a perfect picture

There is an old round theatre in the middle of town. I walk past it every morning. It has five round pillars on the front steps. This morning there were five homeless people sleeping in the shadow of each pillar, bracing themselves from the hot morning sun. One had a raggedy old t-shirt hanging on a clothes hanger above him.

Mozambique is a very impoverished country. If there was a face to poverty, you can see it here. If you open your eyes to the poverty, you can easily become depressed. It can eat inside of you until there’s little hope for change. You can start to feel empty. It will make you feel sick. However, you can also keep your eyes closed to the faces of the poor. To those who are hungry, sick, in need of employment and a roof over their heads. They are kids that play soccer in the street. They are elderly women who sift through the garbage bins at night. They are mentally ill who walk around with one shoe, no shirt and a glaze in their eyes. You can avert your eyes and not see them. You can walk past the outstretched hand without breaking a stride. You can go on living your life as if they don’t. It is harsh. But it’s the truth. Sometimes it is easy to close your eyes; and other times there is nothing more you can do. You feel paralyzed by the reality you are surrounded in.

A friend once said, this is “the perfect picture of poverty”. To make it ideal, to highlight and paint a pretty picture – it is here in Quelimane. In Mozambique. The picture of poverty comes drawn with bright sunshine, beautiful sunsets and coconut trees high up in the sky. There are days you can only see the beauty in the picture. And there are days when all you can see is poverty.