Reflection

I spent today in two different cafes, doing homework. Tonight, I wrote this post about one of the ways poverty is visible here and a little bit about what I think. Most of the reason that I wrote it was to help me think about and process an interaction I had with one woman today. It's different from what I've been posting. I debated publishing it. It is important to share all sides of my time here. However, it gets a little bit preachy. I'm not sure that I like how centered it is on "I." If you choose to keep reading please just know these views are only my thoughts based on today. This is an extremely complex issue and I, in no way, think that I have all of the answers (or even anywhere close to one of the answers). The following is a simplification of what was true for me today. As I reread it, I'm asking myself questions that challenge myself. Disclaimer = over; read on, if you wish.     

One of my absolute favorite things to do here is to sit outside of a cafe either with work or with friends. It's relaxing. Plus, there is so much to see. In the mornings many cafes fill with old men meeting for coffee. I really know nothing about this particular population. In my mind, they are all retired and every morning instead of getting up and going to work, they rise, get ready, and head to their cafes. Their desks and meetings have been replaced by coffee, the morning paper, and each other's conversation. One day, on two benches side-by-side, across from the cafe where I was sitting, there were three old men and three old women. They were sitting there each group wrapped up in its own conversation. It was picturesque in a way that I can't quite put my finger on. Perhaps it was that both groups just seemed so content to be outside, sitting on park benches, talking to their friends.

There are many other defining features to these cafes. One of them, however, is quite sad. Children pass between the tables selling small trinkets. Women pass by holding babies asking for money. Men stop and play music and sing. And then pass trough asking for donations. Sometimes I'll look down and see a small candy or card on the table that a small hand has placed there for sale. After a few moments, the same child's hand will have taken it away. There was once a boy selling greeting cards. As he passed between the tables, I watched him pick up someone's left over Coke from an empty table and finish it. Every time any of these people pass by my table, my heart breaks a little. There is nothing I can do. Not on a big enough scale to really help, anyway. The problem is massive and based in society. Today, an elderly woman walked between the tables. She did not ask for money, only for something to eat. I told her I didn't have anything, and she walked on. I lied. I have a lot, much more than so many people. And certainly enough to give. This woman's age hit me hard. It's easy to say the problem is huge and that we need to reshape society, so that people do not have to ask for food or money to survive. However, for that woman the problem was that she didn't have food. For her, in that moment, society didn't need to be changed. Right then she needed food. Or money to buy food. Yes, the bigger picture problem needs to be fixed. However, for me, that didn't seem like a suitable excuse to watch her go hungry in the interim. 

As I watched more and more people turn her away I thought of often told (borderline cliche) story  about the little boy who is walking along a beach covered in starfish. The sun is hot and the starfish are beginning to dry out. The boy picks up a star fish and throws it into the ocean and then another and another. A man passes and asks what he is doing, the boy responds that he is saving the starfish. The man tells him that he can't possibly make a difference. The boy looks at him bends down, picks up another starfish and throws it, "I made a difference to that one."

Tomorrow, I'll go back to pretty pictures and less heavy topics. In the next few days there will be a post about a wine tasting and the rest of the Bariloche posts.