We have heard about poverty. We have read about poverty. We have even seen pictures of it. But, today, we actually saw it, smelled it, felt it and heard it – first hand. This happened as we saw how the students of Hope live and sleep, everyday of their lives. When we first saw the students, they looked very similar to the children we know. They laughed, ran and wore school uniforms. But, we soon learned that these children are not like the children we know back home because they represent the poorest of the poor. As you have read before, 40% of the students at Hope are without both parents, 40% are without one parent and all are financially destitute.

As school ended today, several of us went to visit the home of Wondmegn, one of the students here at Hope. While all of the children at the school are special, Wondmegn is especially endearing because of the special relationship that was developed between him and a team member last year. Wondmegn is six years old and in first grade. He is smaller than most of his peers, quiet and has a beautiful smile. Today, we went to visit his home.

As we left the school compound, we soon saw that the environment of the school is completely different than what we saw in its neighborhood. While the school has lots of land and the premises are well kept, the neighborhood is full of small plots of land with mud houses. The road is dirt and full of many rocks, some very large. We can only imagine what a mess and danger it must be when it rains. As we left, the sun was shining which made the environment seem cleaner and safer. There were numerous children from the school outside the compound who immediately ran to us to hold our hands and walk with us. As we would pass by their homes, some would leave us. Others would stay with us even after we passed their homes.

We came to the end of the road, which then dropped off sharply to a flat field below. As we looked over the horizon, we could see new cinder block homes being built by the government. Then as we looked down, we saw what was “temporary housing,” though we struggled with the term “house” because it was a village of tarps held up by branches. Over the next six months, the people in these temporary homes will move into the cinder block homes. We smelled urine. We walked down the steep and narrow path toward the homes as the children we were with continued to hold our hands while other children from the makeshift village ran towards us. We saw smiles from the new children who had dirty faces and ragged clothes. Many had no shoes. We saw what we can only guess was a mentally retarded boy raise his arms clearly thrilled to see us as saliva poured out of his mouth. He yelled for us.

We proceeded past several of the tarp homes and then turned and went into one of them. This home, like the rest, was connected to the others. For most of us, it was the size of one of our bathrooms. It was put together with branches and the walls and ceiling consisted of tarps. The home had a bent corrugated door. There were eight of us plus the three family members, which made it very cramped in the living space. The oldest person who lived in the house was Selam, age 16. She assumed the responsibility of raising her younger sister, Helen, age 13 and Wondmegn, her younger brother, when she was 11. Both of her parents had died of AIDS. We had to wonder. Do these children have AIDS too? Probably, but they cannot afford the test to know. Selam was very quiet and conducted herself as one who was much older, clearly the result of a child that had lost her childhood. Helen and Wondmegn, in contrast, still had the smiles of youth. There was one bed in the room for the three of them. The floor was dirt. The tarp walls had several Christian pictures pinned to them. Selam, with pride, showed us the top of an ingera basket that she had woven and hoped to sell. Some of the people in our group had adopted this family the previous year and had brought socks and shirts to them. Then, as were visiting, we noticed that Selam and Helen were the same age as four of the girls that were with us. It made us sad as we thought about what different lives these girls had. We talked some more, took pictures and then we hugged. As we were doing this, many of the children from this tarp village tried to peak under and through the door to see what we were doing.

As we left Wondmegn’s home and walked back to Hope school, we began to ask ourselves: Why are we so fortunate to live with abundance? What are we doing to help the oppressed? Are we sitting comfortably behind the anesthetizing security of our stained glass windows in Menlo Park? Are we trying to love our neighbors and transform this world?

Our experience at Wondmegn’s house reminded us of Matthew 25:40, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”

We can no longer be complacent when it comes to poverty. We have seen poverty first hand and now know the names of children who are suffering. This morning it is raining and our thoughts quickly turn to Wondmegn. We can only imagine the mud and water flowing on the floor of his home. For us it is sad but for him, it is just another day in poverty.