August newsletter

In Argentina horses are just far more a part of daily life, even in a city. The poor find it cheaper to buy a horse and let it slowly decay from malnutrition eating from dumpsters, than to buy a car. Dona Cesi is a pie graph of almost every social problem that a society can produce wrapped up in one sick body. She is diabetic, to poor to buy nutritious food. She lives in the outskirts of town in a scrap wood and metal shack which she was brought to after either a flood or genetically engineered soy beans swept her away from her farmland. She is an uneducated, 40 year old woman in a society that infrequently offers work as underpaid cleaners to woman in her situation. And with a perpetually sick child Danny she is caught in and out of an inadequate hospital system. It was during her time of going to the hospital every day at 5 in the morning trying to get a place in line that someone stole her horse and only source of income. She would use the horse to pull a cart around a city at night collecting plastic bottles and cardboard to turn in for about 7 cents a pound. She came to us weeping, angry and restless. Not only did she have to worry about her sick child but now also about feeding her family without the job which prior provided enough to buy a carbohydrate loaded diet.
I immediately jumped straight to guilt after thinking of how cheap that 400 peso price tag sounded to my middle class, North American ears, $130 dollars. But before I could feel guilty for long an idea was thrown out that would teach me the true meaning of community. We were going to collect bottles for Doña Cesi and help her buy a new horse. And that night we started. We went around the slum with the kids from our community center and asked door to door for bottles. I am shameless and started the process “¿ Usted tiene algunas botellas, estamos juntando para poder comprar un caballo, alguien le robó el caballo a una señora de la iglesia?”. (Sir, do you have any bottles? We are trying to collect them for a woman that got her horse stolen). By the end of the night even the most shy of the boys was yelling out the question, running door to door. We repeated this process many nights, every time the children growing with enthusiasm. Six year old Elias started a bottle pile in his home to gather his collection, which he showed us with pride while visiting his home to drink mate. Many of us began to always carry bags with us and get off the bus a couple of stops early to collect bottles that many carelessly throw out as trash.
Mark in II Corinthians 12:10 says that “For when I am weak, then I am strong” and I think he was speaking of what lens you are looking through in your search for strength. I could have bought Doña Cesi that horse and it would have been over, my conscience cleared. I would have come back and been a martyr and role model of giving in many church’s eyes. But by participating in the struggle I was forced to only be as strong as the community was. I could only influence the outcome, I could not provide it, and I became powerless in my eyes. And in these moments the true strength of action was shown to me. This community was learning to work together to accomplish something, to help someone, something that would not have happened if I had been strong and powerful in the worlds’ eyes. Now the story of the horse and Dona Cesi was not only mine and my generosity, but rather of the entire community and the love and generosity of all that took action. Sometimes the only action that is I can provide is filling my bags with sticky bottles and dragging them to our collection, mine undistinguished from the others. I am continually learning to be a humble part of the community, in a world that has taught me to want credit for it all. A pat on the back feels good but a proud hug from someone joined with you in a struggle seems to pierce deeper.
Curiosity abounds,
-james