People Watching and Learning

Sometimes there are people who you have never met and who probably don’t even know who you are but still find a way of impacting your life. I personally enjoy people watching, especially in a different country because that helps me to learn about my surroundings and the people in it. There are a few people I have been watching since I have been here in Madagascar: a shop owner, a man in a wheelchair and two garbage pickers.

Right across the street and up the road there is a little wooden shack that sells basic necessities. This store isn’t really any different than the hundred others littered by the roadside. They all sell the same products: soap, matches, fried, unhygienic delicacies, laundry detergent, cell phone credit, and other common items. I think the only way they make money is due to loyal customers or random people passing through town who don’t have a favorite merchant. I have become a regular at the shop up the road. The lady who owns it is quite young, probably not much older than myself. She always has a baby in her arms or strapped to her back. Last time I was there it was early in the morning and I noticed that behind the counter were a few mattresses, which looked like they were recently vacated in order to start the days business. I paused for a moment imagining living inside an 8X4 foot space day and night. In a brief moment I switched from imagining my life as her own when the shop owner readily greeted me with a smile and we conducted business with a mixture of English, Malagasy, and French.

In the evenings, when I retreat to my apartment, it is interesting to watch people outside my balcony. On several occasions I have seen this handicapped gentleman in a wheelchair. To the right of my balcony there is a hill that he is frequently pushing himself up. I am not sure where he is going, but he isn’t alone. Each time I see him in the evenings he is transporting a baby. The baby sits on his lap and is strapped in with a seat belt like mechanism. The baby seems quite content going for a ride and unaware of the danger involved in such activity. There are no sidewalks in Madagascar. Everyone and everything: cows, 18-wheelers, push-push (man pulled carts), vehicles, motorbikes, pedestrians, ox-carts, and handicapped men in wheelchairs with babies use the same space - the road. So last night when I was watching this duo ride past my window clouded by exhaust from a tractor-trailer, I was touched by this man’s perseverance and pure delight with his mini passenger.

When I play basketball in the mornings, if I am not lucky enough to get a ride to the court, it is about a 15min walk. Upon entering the other side of town, there is a overflowing dumpster littering the surrounding area. I often witness the same scene at this place, two women picking through garbage. They look like they could be mother and daughter, but it is hard to tell. They are shoeless and wear the same dirty clothes every day, skin covered in dust and who knows what else. They start at the west end of town and pick their way to this side. Seeing them is a blatant reminder how unfair this world is and the unequal distribution of wealth. Every time I see them I question why I born an American with opportunities, education, and means to be successful. Why wasn’t I born a citizen of this world who survives on less than a dollar a day? How frequently do I waste food, spend money on something I don’t need, or have this poisonous mentality something is ‘mine?’ I do not know any of these people: I do not know their names, their age, where they come from, what their dreams are. But I do know me. And I know that I am blessed and with that comes a responsibility to not accept the injustice I am faced with every time I look out my window but to be an active participant in merging my life and access to resources with the shop owner, the handicapped man, and the garbage pickers.