"The poor are our masters"

My mind is often contemplating poverty--what causes it, how can it be ended, and even, how is poverty defined? Fr. Thierry, our founder, has written a lot on poverty, and I wish I could just copy and paste what he wrote! But there is something else stirring in my heart on this topic. In Heart’s Home, we say that the poor are our masters. Christ loved the poor. He was poor. There is something in the life of the poor that is beautiful--something that humanity needs. It is tragic and unjust that so many millions of people live without clean water to drink, or have barely one bowl of rice a day to eat, as the small population of the rich have an abundance.  I live in both worlds here--we have friends living in abundance as ex-patriates, receiving Western salaries and enjoying the economic freedom of living in Asia, where one dollar brings you thirty baht! Then I live with friends who spend 60 baht a day on food--and earn less than the minimum wage of 210 baht a day. They are lucky if they make 100 baht profit.

I was in a hot springs in Colorado in the summer of 2009. My girlfriends and I were visiting my brother and we took a day away from our campsite to enjoy some nature. We overheard a few people talking about suffering in the world. This man said, if we permit only one child per couple, the population will diminish and the entire crisis of suffering and hunger in the world will be solved.

My friends and I, all from Benedictine College, looked at each other and later discussed this. Number one, what is suffering? Is suffering only in the lives of the poor? Only by being hungry do we suffer? The rich and well-off don’t suffer? Number two, is there value in suffering? I suffer in my life, but I can also learn from others who suffer:

Being poor means a lot of things... It is patience. It is humility. It is being abandoned. It is being forgotten. It is isolation. It is a suffering... There is an honesty in the poor, a directness that is lost when I step out of the slum. There is also a lot of disease, drug addiction, young mothers, AIDS, abuse, and violence... Children’s innocence is stripped away and they have no freedom to choose a better life. Their education is perhaps minimal in the schools, as they learn from what they see on the streets and TV.

When asked about poverty, I don’t know what to say. It is tragic for so many to remain poor and no class mobility--we need a solution! If humanity is about having freedom, shouldn’t we have the freedom to enjoy beauty, education, shelter, and food? Shouldn’t we all be given that freedom? But if the solution means creating a universal standard of equalization of income,,,? Then humanity is lost as freedom is lost. Taking away the rights to move higher, or removing natural consequences of failure is to limit freedom. The causes and the solutions for poverty are multiple. There is no one answer. I believe however that the biggest poverty is not economic. It is the poverty of a presence. A gratuitous presence. And that poverty exists in high rises, hospitals, and suburbs as much as the slums and ghettos of the cities.

Cay jen jen

I make a concerted effort to wake up not only on time, but EARLY, to get to mass this morning. Going to daily mass in the city of Bangkok is a bit of a trek. This morning I wanted to get here to use the computer to get some work done, and which means attending mass in French at the Paris Foreign Mission. Mass (MEP)is at 7:30 am here. MEP is about 3 miles away from house by the market, but as the city is designed and being poor, we usually plan one hour to get there. 

 Missioneres Etrangers de Paris. (Paris Foreign Mission)

On my way over the bridge. 

This morning I left early, at 6:20-- I walked through the slum, waking up to the smell of dog shit in the street, overstepping the puddles of liquid (never know what it could be...) and trying not to trip over the speed bumps on the sidewalk that keep the motos from speeding through the narrow sidewalks. I walked on the train tracks, crossed the expressway (dodging moving vehicles),  walked across the creaking bridge (stepping in the right places to not twist an ankle or lose a shoe to the dirty canal water below, full of sewage and trash), and greeted the grandmother on the other side... 

Grandmother and grandson on the other side of the bridge.

I made a quick stop at 7/11 for a hot ham and cheese croissant sandwich and a fruit/veggie drink in place of my typical coffee. I walked past all of the daily food stands selling breakfast and lunch at the same time, as many Thais buy lunch on their way to work. 

The blue sign in the window designates "free" buses!

Waiting for the bus is always a moment for me to look like a local--proving I live here and am NOT a tourist, despite my obvious Western look (it's not easy to hide being almost 6 feet tall and having long blonde hair) by casually hailing the bright pink bus #115 to stop for me, and having my 8 baht already in my hand to pay the fare. (I always hate dressing up here or wearing any shorts or leaving my hair down--the Thais are shameless in staring and shouting farang-- as if they've never seen a Westerner before in a city of more than 12 million people...)

Waiting at the stoplight for the police to say GO!

Now, you may have heard about traffic in Bangkok--this city is notorious for horrendous traffic. I have decided that it has nothing to do with the amount of cars, buses, motorcycles, tuktuks, rot song teos, and bicycles--it has EVERYTHING to do with the traffic police. Instead of using the timed stoplights, the police decide that by dispersing into traffic in their skin tight dark brown uniforms, they and their walkie talkies can direct the traffic better. I actually have a couple theories--maybe it's a conspiracy between the police and the taxi drivers, who, by sitting in the traffic with passengers, reap in the satangs by the minute as the fare rises. Or, it's a way to keep stimulating the economy as passengers on the buses, already having paid their fare, get off and take a moto, subway, or another bus. Sometimes, we've left the bus, walked a bit until traffic opens up, only to find the same bus we just left and we get back on. 

Entrepeneur taking advantage of the piles of cars every day by selling 'papes. 

This morning, I got on the bus at 6:40--at 7:20, we still had not moved more than one mile--only passing one traffic light. I kept thinking, "I am poor. I can't just go pay more money because I'm in a hurry..." Living here for 8 months, I was able to stay cay jen jen (cool, calm, patient) for the first 35 minutes as I stood on the crowded bus that didn't move more than 300 meters in 20 minutes. The last 5 minutes, I was hopeful as we moved past one light--only to stop again. Fed up, I got off and walked to the subway, taking it two stops ahead to Silom, where I would again catch another bus. 

And you know how Bangkok traffic police and bus drivers tell me once again to just be patient and wait? 

...As I came up the escalator and looked down Silom Road, I saw the back end of the bright pink bus number 115 barreling on down the street.