Recently I saw a man lying in the dirt near
the project where I work. I assumed him drunk as it’s not the first time I’ve
seen this occur. But today was a little different. Today there was a mother. I
watched as his elderly and in pain mother slowly walked up to where he lay. She
bent down close and put her hand on his face to see if he was still alive. I
felt her pain in those first few moments of uncertainty as we held our breaths
hoping that he would show some small movement or sign of life. After a few gentle
taps, he stirred a bit. Assured and relieved, she hobbled off but didn’t stay
away long. She came back with a cup and a pan, both filled with water. She
tried to make him drink, feeding him the water with a plastic spoon. Then she
carefully poured some of the pan water on his head and feet, attempting to
clean off the dust and grime. With the help of another very drunk man, they
moved him underneath a tree a few yards away. Probably feeling that she had
done all that she could do for the moment, she left him there in the shade to
sleep. Later I saw some kids from the barrio trying to pee on him…
This was not my first interaction with an
overly drunk man in this country. I probably haven’t gone a single day without
experiencing the horrible abuses of alcohol that happen all around me here.
Just to get to work each morning I have to walk past a corner where I’m almost
guaranteed at 7:45am to see at least two very drunk men. Once I saw a couple of
women dragging a passed out, drunk relative from the street into their house.
Another time I found a very drunk man outside the project who had fallen and
was bleeding from the head. A different morning we found out that one of the
regular drinkers from the barrio, a brother of one of the bank women, had died overnight
due to cirrhosis of the liver. We also have a man named Balbino who is
experiencing homelessness and who very often comes to our house drunk and
asking for food.
I know that all of these things happen in
the US, but never in my life have I been so surrounded by it all. Seeing it
brings me a mix of emotions: sadness, frustration, anger, disgust, and
nervousness. I often want to shake these men awake and yell, ¨Stop dong this to
yourself and your family!¨ But I know that the cure is not that easy. The
sadness tugs at me as I wonder what all these men have suffered in their lives
to warrant this drastic form of self-depletion. It could be the not-so-distant
wars that were fought here or the prevalent physical and verbal abuse. It could
be the failed relationships or the unmedicated mental illnesses. Or maybe it
could be the lack of quality education or even the fact that they can´t find a
decent paying job. It is possible that it is a combination of many or all of
them as well.
Seeing the human dignity in a very drunken
person in the street can be a difficult task, and despite my own efforts, I
still often have a hard time treating these men with kindness. But at a team
prayer this year, many of my coworkers expressed that these men may be the
prostitutes and lepers of our society today.
Maybe we should start treating them the way Jesus (or the mother in my first story) would—with love and
compassion.
