A Street View With Emotional Challanges

Some times the view is spellbinding, other times it is tragic curse. Looking out my window is always a reminder to wake up. Only 5% of global humanity lives like we do in Canada. What I see out my window here in Mali, West Africa, is life for the majority of the worlds people.

Even though I live and work in the least developed country on earth, I sit here in my modern office, and on my desk is an internet receiver, laptop, android tablet, android smart phone, two small pocket solar chargers for recharging while in the bush. I merely lift my gaze and I see an open market, second hand clothes, oh, and a lame guy dragging himself down the street on his bum.

I asked Lynn if she would spell check something on my computer. So I stood up and gave her my chair at the desk, stretched and just leaned on the edge of the window staring out over the market. My eyes were soon drawn to this one man, a hundred feet to the left of my window. His bobbing head drew my attention in the crowd.

I see this well dressed man with a nice crispy blue shirt and a handsome vest. He has flip-flops on his hands (Yes hands) and denims, and his paralyzed legs and ankles are wrapped up in what looks like heavy leggings too, and they are tied or taped around his legs to prevent road chafing I suppose. He had his left leg folded across the right leg, with his right leg extended straight out in front of him. He was pushing himself forward, on his bum, up the street. I watch him go 100 feet and I needed relief, or I would have really lost it. All I could do was say… “Lynn, look out the window at this.” She looked up, and we both watched him stop in a few more meters. Take the flip flops off his hands to switch his legs by folding the right over the left this time, put the flip-flops back on his hands and continued pushing himself down the street on his bum, now with his left leg dragging on the street in front of him .

We stood there silent. What do you say? I almost began to crying visibly..and was inside. But I held the tear back…big boys don’t cry.

I see people in hand-pedaled wheelchairs…there was a program here in Sikasso for the disabled. However, for some reason he does not have one. What do you do do? We can’t possibly help everyone.

And that just sucks. I mean that really, really is bothersome. When it does not bother us we are bent wrong… If it we let human tragedy consume us every time, which is every day, we would be so emotionally broken all the time, we would be of no help. Because we would need help- therapy.

Some times the view is spellbinding, other times it is tragic curse.
The view out my window is what it is.

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