~Final~

I see little black hands

Reaching through the window of our mud-splattered jeep,

Hands whose owners sleep on the street, who hide from armed men,

Every night,

Screaming,

Begging,

These are sights that show poverty.

I see old women

Hunched backed, walking painfully down the dirt road,

Young girls,

Torn,

Tattered,

Wishing for a better life, an education.

These are sights that show despair.

I see new wells installed,

New schools built,

New businesses formed,

Healthy people,

Happy people,

Who are no longer beasts of burden.

These are sights that show hope.

I hear hopeless crying

Rapid bursts of gunfire,

Sickening screams,

Crackling fires,

Burning houses,

I hear helpless victims.

These are sounds that show violence.

I hear crazed commotion

People running through the streets,

Crying children abandoned or lost in the crowd,

Drunken shouts,

Pounding footsteps,

I hear clanking body armor.

These are sounds that show distress.

I hear water flowing,

Pencils writing,

Children laughing,

Cows mooing,

Chickens clucking,

I hear people stopping to talk on the street.

These are sounds that show happiness.

I smell burning wood

Bodies rotting,

Garbage and sewage flowing down the street,

Rank animals wallowing in their own filth to stay cool,

Dirty water,

I smell nothing but the blood from my own dry cracked skin.

These are smells that show loss.

I smell gasoline and smoke

Garbage in rivers that once flowed clean,

Sweat from hundreds of workers in fields,

Burning garbage,

Oil and chemicals on every street corner,

I smell forests being burned to the ground.

These are smells that show pollution.

I smell clean animals

Healthy people,

Sweet bread from the new bakery,

Fresh air,

Clean water,

I smell entire forests of living trees.

These are smells that show healing.

I taste blood in my mouth

Blood from people beating other people,

Dirt blowing into my face

Sulfur,

Manure,

Every sip of water is like poisonous mud.

These are tastes that show sickness.

I taste my own tears as they trickle down my face

Tears from too much loss and sadness,

Mold in my food,

It is better than starving,

Dirty water,

I can’t stand it.

These are tastes that show hoplessness.

I taste food that is clean and rich with nutrients

Fresh, clean water from a new well,

Flowing down my throat,

Quenching my thirst,

Fruit and bread,

I taste food that I bought with my own money.

These are tastes that show satisfaction.

I feel a sharp pain in my head

A knife pressed against my throat,

A bullet wound in my shoulder,

A bullet shot by my friend who was turned against me,

A bomb shaking the ground,

Then I feel nothing.

These are feelings that show sadism.

I feel rocks piercing my feet

As I walk across an endless desert,

Burning sand leaving blisters all over my skin,

Thorny bushes on the ground,

Shoulders aching from carrying a water filled jury can,

But I have to keep going.

These are the feelings that show pain.

I feel the cool wind blowing across my face

As I ride my new bike down a hill,

I grasp my new tools in my hands,

Water splashing on me,

Money in my hand,

That was loaned to me.

These are feelings that show refreshment.

These are senses that could make you cry.

These are senses that could make you scream with joy.

These are senses that show that there is hope among poverty and despair.

These are senses that show there is healing among loss and pollution.

These are senses that show satisfaction among sickness and hopelessness.

These are senses that show refreshment among pain and sadism.

These are senses that change lives.

I have traveled the world with this class.

Everywhere I go,

I meet someone new,

Someone different,

Someone with a story to tell.

Someone who knows something that I don’t.

I met a disabled Ghanaian

Who rode his bike across his country with one leg,

Followed by hundreds of people,

Who almost single handedly changed,

The horrible way that disabled people were treated in Ghana,

In a peaceful, inspiring way.

Thank you Emmanuel.

I met two men from Rwanda

They had been scarred for life,

Both mentally and physically,

They taught me many things,

Do not hate anyone, even your worst enemies,

Love everyone and put the past behind you.

Thank you Fredrick and Zachary.

I met a farmer in El Salvador

Who was so poor he lived in a house made of sheet metal,

He needed bulls to plow his fields,

So I helped him by loaning him $25,

H bought his bulls and plowed his fields,

Now he will be able to provide shelter and education for his family.

Thank you Selvin.

I met a boy from Sudan

Who escaped soldiers with guns and planes with bombs,

And walked hundreds of miles across deserts,

Protecting three hundred boys younger than him,

No food or water,

He taught me to never give up.

Thank you John Bul Dau.

I met a fat white guy who played football

While the other players fought because of their different races,

He just had a good time and was friends with everyone,

He was just too funny and goofy to be racist,

He wasn’t the best player on the team, but he was one of the most inspiring.

And he showed me you can’t judge someone by the way they look.

Thank you Louie.

I met a boy who took a school project to another level

Who tried to make the world a better place,

He helped other people,

Even though he was the one who needed help,

He finally died trying to help others,

And spread a message to give help to others.

Thank you Trevor.

These are people who see a problem and fix it.

These are people who go and help others who are in worse shape than them.

These are people who don’t live in big houses or buy fancy things.

These are people who you would be afraid of if you saw them on your street.

These are people who would help you if you were in their place.

These are people who are doers.

 These are people who change lives.

Walking Water

Today I woke up early at 6:30 and went to Rocky Nook Park, which is about a mile from my school. On my back was an empty five gallon paint bucket. 

I reached down to take off my shoes. My classmates around me were doing the same. Then I went to a water spigot and filled my bucket to the top. 

I set my bucket down and saw some of my friends heading over to a nearby creek. I ran over to join them.

We spent a while jumping from rock to rock and hanging out by the creek bed. I suddenly felt sad. Kids in Africa don't have this creek to play in, I thought. 

It was wednesday, May ninth, and the 6th and 7th grade of my school were meeting at a park. We would carry water filled containers to our school, and some of us would be barefoot. We wanted to know what it feels like to be in a poorer country where you have to carry water home from a well to stay alive.

We grouped up to set off for school. I snapped a lid on my bucket and strapped it to my head, and I  started walking towards school. Within the first few steps, my feet were already hurting. The hot asphalt burned my feet and shattered glass and oak leaves were cutting into my toes. A few steps later my head was aching. The strap was cutting into my forehead and my shoulders were screaming. I stumbled and a big splash of water spilled down my back. I thought of how I would have to go back to get more water if I was an African child getting water for his family. I was glad I wasn't in that situation. 

The flat path started to curve upward. Soon we were trudging up to APS, a road on the top of the hill we were at the base of.

I stumbled along, trying not to let my water spill, trying not to stub my toes, trying not to let the pain of my strap make me give up. I stepped on a piece of sharp glass and winced as I pulled it out of my foot. I looked around. The sidewalk was littered with glass. It disgusted me that people could be so careless. 

The only thing that made me go on was the thought that it would be over soon. 

At last, I saw my school's driveway. I was so excited. I burst out in a sprint and ran the rest of the way. I threw my bucket down and put my shoes back on. Then I got an otter pop and sat on a bench enjoying the weight off of my back.

I happily thought that it was over.

But then I realized it wasn't over for everyone.

All around the world, girls my age, older, and even younger were only a quarter of the way done with their walk.

The water they collected was contaminated with germs and mud and life threatening diseases. 

Their path was littered with sharp thorns, wild animals, and threatening people.

Their walk would not end at school. It would end right back at home, and they would go to bed.

Then they would wake up again the next morning. 

And do the whole thing over again.

Every day of their lives, they would be carrying water. 

Dirty water.

On a dangerous road. 

They would be lucky if they didn't die before they got too old to carry water. 

It wasn't fair that us Americans could turn a faucet and get crystal clean water without thinking twice. 

That we dump water out like it is useless.

That we get almost unlimited resources while other countries fight over the simplest of needs. 

That we just throw glass bottles out the window without worrying about who could step on it.

My Visit With Selvin Heraldo: Day 3

~día tres~

~ Ultimo Día ~

I awoke from my dreams of ice cream men and cows early in the morning. That crazy rooster was walking around outside my tent again.

I got out of my tent. Selvin was already up, plowing his fields with his new bulls. He works so hard to put food on his family’s table. He saw me and motioned for me to join him. I walked over next to him. He was guiding the bulls in a straight line so that they wouldn’t mess up the fields.

“Selvin, how long have you been working in agriculture?” I asked.

“Twenty years, since I was nine,” he said.

He had a job when he was nine years old. Wow. I thought about it. I’m 13 and I don’t even have a job.

~~~~

Today, we went to the Usulután market place. It was amazing. The streets were lined with venders selling barrels of fruits and vegetables I had never seen or heard of before. Slabs of raw meat, along with whole ducks and pigs, hung from meat hooks under awnings. The air was filled with a constant Spanish jibber-jabber that I couldn’t understand. When I breathed I smelled a million smells that I couldn’t recognize. Everything was new and exciting.

Little kids ran around playing tag and selling candy to tourists. Stray dogs hid under tables and chased bones that people threw on the ground. Wonderful colors hung from tables and awnings. Street venders advertised their fresh produce. Tourists snapped pictures of buildings and statues.

Sadly, it was finally time to go. Selvin drove me back to his house to pack my things. I got my bags together and walked out to the bus stop. The whole family said goodbye. I was so sad to go. When the big noisy chicken bus pulled up, Selvin’s daughter handed me a folded piece of paper. “Thank you.” She said with a shy smile.

“Goodbye,” I said as I stepped onto the bus. Then the bus drove off.

I opened the paper and smiled.

My Visit With Selvin Heraldo: Day 2

~día dos~

A rooster screamed just outside of my tent. I groaned and rolled out of my tent. It was just getting light out.

I looked to my left and saw Selvin watering a field with a large watering can. I went over to help him water.

“Today we will go to buy my bulls with the money I was loaned,” Selvin said.

~~~~

We piled into Selvin’s rusty old pickup truck. There were only two seats in the front, so Selvin’s daughter and I sat in the bed of the truck while Selvin and his girlfriend sat in the front.

We pulled up to a large open pasture bordered by a barbed wire fence. I could see about 50 cows and bulls roaming around.

An old man, maybe 60 years old, limped out of a barn by the side of the road. He was holding a chicken in each hand by its legs. When he saw us, he dropped the squawking birds and walked over to us.

“Buenas días!” exclaimed the man. He had thick grey mustache on his weathered face that moved up and down when he spoke. His skin was worn and tan and rough and it looked like old leather. When he smiled I could see that he was missing two or three of his crooked teeth. On his head was a large white cowboy hat.

“Buenas Días,” said Selvin. He explained that we had come to purchase five young bulls to pasture.

“Si, si,” the old man smiled, showing his crooked teeth. He guided our car over to a large gate. He slowly swung the gate open, and then hopped into the back with us.

Selvin drove along a bumpy dirt road full of potholes. We bounced around in the back, flying into the air every time we hit a rock.

We finally stopped near a group of bulls. Selvin and the man got out of the car, and they examined each bull. Selvin picked out five muscular black bulls, and handed the man $1,200.

Selvin and I unloaded a wooden ox cart from the truck. We yoked the bulls, and rode the ox cart home while Selvin’s Girlfriend and daughter drove the truck home.

It took a few hours to get home. The ox cart was nothing more than a wood platform on rickety wooden wheels, so the ride was very bumpy and uncomfortable. Every turn in the road, we had to jump off of the cart and redirect the bulls.

We had been sitting in the cart for more than two hours. We were hot and tired, and we were also almost out of water. I was sitting and listening to the colorful birds chirping in the trees, when they suddenly stopped. I looked around to see what was wrong. Selvin had noticed something too. We were probably 50 miles away from the nearest town, and we had seen no one the entire time we had been on the road. Selvin and I looked at each other.

Then, in the distance I heard a faint sound.

Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding…

It sounded like… bells? No, That is impossible, I thought.

Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding

It was bells. The dings grew louder and louder. Finally, I saw what was making the sound.

A little old man pushing a two-wheeled Ice cream cart rounded the corner. “Hola!” he exclaimed.

Selvin didn’t look too surprised, but I was shocked. What in the world was an ice cream man doing in the middle of nowhere? I replied with a smile “Hola,” and bought Selvin and I popsicles. The man winked and resumed pushing his cart along the dirt road.

Ding… Ding… Ding… Ding… Ding… Ding… Ding… Ding…………..

The ice cream man from heaven vanished into the distance.

~~~~

When we got home, it was getting dark. Selvin’s Girlfriend had made dinner already, so we sat down at the table and ate. Selvin and I were very tired and hungry, so we gorged ourselves on the delicious chicken dinner.

When I finished washing my plate, I said goodnight to the family and went to sleep in my tent.

My Visit With Selvin Heraldo: Day 1

~día uno~

The bus doors swung open, and fresh air spilled in. I was overwhelmed by the many smells that accompanied the air: The smells of fresh hay, soil, cows, and chicken poop.

When the bus pulled to a stop, Selvin and his family rushed to the door and greeted us with hugs and a jumble of spanish words."¡Hola!" "¡bienvenidos!" "¿Como Estas?"

We walked up to the rickety old house. I could see that it was made of nothing but a few scraps of tin and plywood. When we entered, we saw there was only one room, with a table, a wood-burning stove, and one bed. 

"I plan to build myself a better house when my loan helps me make more money," Said Selvin in Spanish.

~~~~

He then took us on a tour of his farm.

Sr. Heraldo's farm

We walked from field to field, looking at Selvin's crops. I lost track of time as Selvin showed me how he planted his crops and cared for his animals. 

I heard a soft mooooooo. I looked over to see a few milk cows roaming an open pasture.

"We have to milk the cows for tonight's dinner," Selvin said. I looked at  my watch, and realized that it was already 5:00! 

I followed Selvin down to his cows. He grabbed two buckets, and sat on one while he used the other to catch the milk. When he was finished, I helped him carry the bucket full of milk back to the house. 

When we got home, we were very thirsty, so we took two cups and drank some milk. It was very fresh, much better than the stuff you buy at the supermarket.

We went out back, where Selvin had a chicken coop. We reached inside and grabbed a few eggs. when we got inside, Selvin's girlfriend scrambled the eggs along with some onions and tomatoes from their garden. Then she pulled some bread out of the wood-burning stove. She put the food onto the small table, and all of us crowded around. 

The dinner was great. It all tasted so good and fresh. When we were finished eating, we cleared the table and went outside to wash the dishes. We scrubbed our dishes with a sponge, and then we rinsed them in a bucket of water that Selvin had filled up before dinner.

I would not be able to sleep inside the house because there was no room, so I set up my tent in a nearby cornfield. I crawled into my sleeping bag and fell fast asleep.

My Visit With Selvin Heraldo: Currency

Since 2001, the US dollar has been the official unit of currency in El Salvador.

My Visit With Selvin Heraldo: Communication

Hello!.........................................................................................................................................¡Hola!


How are you?..............................................................................................................¿Como Estas?


Where is the bathroom?.............................................................................¿Donde Está El Baño?


Great!..................................................................................................................................¡Qué bien! 


Thank you very much..........................................................................................¡Muchas gracias!


You’re welcome!.................................................................................................................¡De nada!


How do you say...?.................................................................................................¿Cómo se dice...?


Please.....................................................................................................................................Por favor. 


¿What time is it?...........................................................................................................¿Qué hora es?


I don't understand.......................................................................................................No comprende.