ghetto

I realized last night that I live in a ghetto. Having grown up in a middle class life, I guess I never really thought about what it would be like to live in a ghetto. My youth was filled with quite neighborhoods and well-dressed children playing in their grassy backyards waiting for their mothers to call them in for dinner.

Last night I was putting together some dinner with my front windows open to the street. For whatever reason, I was aware of all of the sounds that have become so familiar to me over the past year. I suddenly heard a baby screaming in the adjoining apartment, then heard the kids yelling in the street and heard their barefeet stomp across my front stoop. I listened to men arguing over the latest theory on why the electricity still hasn't returned. I heard some loud noises in the distance that could have been gun shots or fireworks (I like to believe the latter). I watched as the sun set behind the crumbling cement blocks that make up my neighbors home. Life in Praia, as in all of Cape Verde, seems so normal, so middle-class. But what I was reminded of yesterday, was how impoverised my community is. I mean, I know I live in a third world country, but it is so easy to forget when you see it everyday.

Someone recently asked me if I thought the people of Cape Verde were generally happy? I immediately said yes. But after a lengthy conversation on the subject, I'm not sure. Poverty, lack of food, shoes, and a decent home, become "normal" when you live amongst it everyday. The people around me seem satisfied with where they are, but I'm not sure they are actually happy. I am constantly both happy and amazingly saddened by what is around me. It is a difficult realization. I can't imagine two years of my efforts being nearly enough for the wonderful people I live amongst. I wish everyone could see what I see, then maybe we would be more grateful for what we have, no matter how little.