People ask what is the hardest part of being a missionary here. Yeah, you know the obvious...miss family, food, home, etc. But I gotta tell you...the filth over here is something that I just boil and get sick over. Yet, there is nothing I can do. Ok, I try to understand that they have no trash disposal here. No trash truck comes and picks up your trash. We paid this one guy to come pick ours up and I had no idea what he didwith it. Well, sometimes when we would drive Id see bits and pieces of our trash scattered down the road. We found out that he just bikes it a few yards and dumps it over the ditch. ( as pictured below) So, Ferd got someone else. These new guys take it off and go through each piece of trash one by one and separate it for re-sale. Ok, ladies...imagine that. Trash can be personal and so that freaks me out ALOT knowing these young boys are going through it like that. That is just part of being here...I got over it.
We are in a ghetto village. It is the slums. I mean, filthy and packed side by side with people. You look over our balcony and all you see is trash . It's hard to feel sorry when people bring the filth on themselves. We have a cement block wall around our house and by george..every square inch of it is clean. I have to have some place of solitude. It just is so hard to live in a place like this where they seem to like it like this as they add to it every single day...
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