Wealth comes with responsibility

A visit to a place well beneath their usual standards opens their eyes to a new world

We are each given gifts, with these gifts comes the responsibility to use them and use them well.


As I walked down the long ago abandoned and rusted train tracks, the tall grass faded away. In front of me was my goal. The abandoned station. A large structure built of wood and brick, the roof was missing, but for the people living here this did not matter. It was home.

I looked down to my feet, finally noticing a layer of paper under my feet. As I looked around, the ground was covered in garbage, litter stretched as far as the eye could see. I could feel my eyes water as the stench reached my nose.

Bravely my friend and I ventured forth. Approaching the run down buildings, we passed a group of children. They were dressed in rags, or not at all. But, as they played in the garbage smiles were planted firmly on their faces. On noticing us, their eyes lit up and they sprinted off into the buildings.

We walked on, towards the doorway of the first building. It was our destination. The school. It was set up and run mostly by students, who themsleves were little better off than those they taught. School supplies were donated by the local church, the students eager to learn anything and everything.

Finally we were within reach of the door. Pausing we noticed many sets of eyes upon us, suddenly we felt very vulnerable. Heads were popping out of windows and archways alike. We quickly entered as to avoid further discomfort.

Inside was very much like the outside, run down and broken. It was however dry, the roof recently patched up. an asortment of pens and pencils randomly filled a jar to the side of the room and serveral water stained charts lined the walls.

    "Ah, there you are!" an excited voice sounded from the back of the room, Reynaldo was in charge of the school. He was in his early twenties and was here for missionary work through a canadian organisation, even though he was Philippino. His smile captivating us as he moved forward to greet us with a hug.

    "Reynaldo! good to see you again mate! Are we going out again tonight? the pubs here are awesome!" I replied, trying to ease my friend's obvious unease.
    "Sure, the other night was a hit with the owner! But, first I must give you the tour around this humble abode." His voice slowly lowered to almost a whisper.

Both of us were well aware of where we were and the seriousness involved, the school was of vital importance to the locals, it was the only avenue their children had of ever moving up and away from this hell hole. So I followed Reynaldo out the door basically pulling Clara with me.

Immediately we were confronted with the stench of burning plastic, cardboard and several other waste materials. The locals were trying to get rid of some of the tip that surrounded their homes. We moved on and entered the next door. Blankets covered areas of ground, where assumedly their beds were situated. The walls and doors did not prevent the garbage and litter endering into the living quarters, the smell was, if anything less bareable.

As I looked around inside Reynaldo noticed a me looking at few large bags of empty bottles.
    "it is their source of income" he said quietly. "roughly 50 cents per kilogram of bottles or cans."
Now I realise why he had asked me to collect and bring all the empty bottles we had.

A child in the room next to ours could be heard crying, for the ten minutes we were in the room he hadn't stopped. the pangs of hunger too much for him to bear. As we were leaving Reynaldo informed me that these people were lucky if they go to live on 1 USD a week. Most lived on one a fortnight or every three weeks.

Every fact I learnt felt like another blow to my already sick stomach. How could so many people be living like this while I sit back with my coffee and computer? How could the world be so ignorant? my train of thought was interrupted as we entered a narrow alleyway lined with leantwos on either side. They were homes to mothers and children, the fathers had either died in the wars or went out looking for work and never returned.

We slowly made our way down the pathway greeting the parents and playing with the energetic children. We were invited into home after home, Reynaldo translating what the mothers had to say about their dayly lives. As we exited some of the homes, we were offered gifts and other times offered to look at something they were selling. We bought many items of food, paying money well above what the items were worth. Gathering the children in we offered out the bananas and various other foods that we weren't brave enough to eat. It sounds harsh, but they ate it every day. The gleeming smiles on the children and the laughter radiated around the homes. For the first time that day, I smiled.

We said our goodbyes and our thanks, heading back out along the tracks and through the long grass. It didn't take long for us to arrive back at the church where we were staying. It wasn't much, a room to sleep it, a bed raised above the floor and water if not drinkable at least clean enough to wash in. Their were no hot showers, but that no longer mattered to us.

I entered our room and immediately headed for my bed, sitting there, head in hands I let the events of the day wash over me. For the first time in a long while I was overcome. My eyes glisended with unshed tears. Clara entered after a talk to the local nun regarding tonight's church service.

Without any form of recognition she collapse onto her bed shaking, tears rolling down her face. Pushing her head deeper into the pillow she tried desperately to hide her sobs. As the first tear fell down my cheek I moved towards Clara's bed. I sat down and she crawled into my lap. The warmth of her life enough to comfort me.

We still have our friends, I thought, our family and a life full of endless opportunities. Yet everyday we had been praying for more. While these people were praying for heaven, for the next dollar or just that they wouldn't go hungry the next night.

Author's Note

Reviews and constructive criticism more than welcome, I would love to be able to tell this story better.