When I first arrived in Timor-Leste, I was shocked at how poor the people were. Now, eight months later, I find myself not thinking as much about it. It's frightening what a person can get used to. I see little children bathing in the gutters, old men and women along the streets, begging their wares. They'll probably only get a buck or two today. Yet it doesn't really faze me much. I find myself thinking of what I'm going to do when I get home (departure day is drawing close), thinking of all the luxuries I've missed. It isn't a bad thing.
What is bad is that fact that I forget so quickly how rich I am and how poor they are. It's not just bad, it's frightening. I see these people everyday and forget that my monthly paycheck is about eight times the amount of theirs. But I'm not only financially well off in comparison. My life is also rich in a million other ways. My parents are both still alive and love me. All my brothers and sisters are still alive. Neither of my parents drink or smoke. My father doesn't beat me. My uncle hasn't raped me. I know the Lord and have a hope after this life. I'm not chained by fear of the spirits of dead persons. I have a good education in not only academic things, but hygiene and sanitation. I'm healthy. I have plenty of clothes to wear. I have a warm bed and roof over my head. I have running water inside my house and clean water to drink. That in itself is a huge blessing. There are so many people here in Dili, the country's capital, that don't have running water in their houses.
And despite these ever present reminders I have, I'm so quick to forget that I am rich, so rich.
I complain when the internet isn't working or when I haven't gotten enough sleep. I'm irritated when there's no hot water. When I don't get everything I want to accomplished in school, I become angry. When I miss my friends and family, I throw a big pity party for myself. How quickly I forget that I am so rich.
However, today, I had a visual reminder of how rich I am, how blessed I am. After church, a small group of kids from Adventurers, Paulo, and myself, met at the National Hospital of Timor-Leste. One Adventurer's mom works there as a nurse, educating and trying to raise the nursing standards. The kids had to visit some shut-ins as a requirement for Adventurers. So they had arranged to visit the pediatric ward at the hospital and pass out goodies to the children there.
It was so saddening to see what the hospital was like. It was a night and day difference from the hospitals I'm used to being in back in the States. I wish the pictures below could more accurately portray the way things were. I wish I could transport each of you reading this to Timor-Leste for just a little while, so you could see what I see.
Those who needed oxygen had huge tanks at the end of the bed. The kids have nothing to do all day long. Services are free, however, families have to provide almost all the meals, I'm told. The woman who was guiding us around told me that basically, she has to work without equipment. I can't even tell you everything. I didn't get a run-down of what the hospital is lacking or how inferior the service was. I just saw the difference between Timor-Leste's national hospital and the ones back home. It was shocking.
I'm told the hospital is a lot better than it used to be. A couple of years ago they had many IDP's (Internally Displaced Persons) absolutely flooding the place. There were chickens, pigs, along with all the people staying there. It was a mess. Today it is much better. But still, I am reminded how rich I am.
It really brought joy to my heart though, to walk around the ward, taking pictures, smiling, waving, shaking hands, and seeing them smile back. We were only there for half an hour or so, yet I'm sure those kids loved it.
There was one boy who was so very smiley. His name was Jimmy. He had a blood clotting disease. However, the hospital doesn't have the ability to provide the substances he'll need for the rest of his life. So he's at risk of bleeding to death.
This is Jimmy.
I've been frightened at the way I've so quickly gotten used to the poverty here in Timor. I hope, even more than realizing how rich I am, that God will always keep my eyes wide open to the evil around me, always aware of the sickness in this world and the sickness of sin inside of me. It's so easy to simply get used to it and not give that dirty little boy a second thought. It's so easy to be mediocre and not fight against the evil so blatant and raw in this country. I pray that God can wake me up so that I may always be sensitive to the sin around me. I pray that I won't be so numb to evil that I cease to fight against it.
I hope you can be blessed by these pictures and that you will realize not only how rich you are, but also wake up and be sensitive to the sin in your own world and fight against it.
