Returning to the Dump

Those images of the people at the dump, fighting the vultures for food, have not left me since I first went to the dump a couple of weeks ago. It is really our job to take action on needs we see. More action than just praying the God blesses these people or hoping that someone else takes them food.

A man that is a janitor at Harding, and is a friend of Matt's and Nicole's, gave them a hundred dollars to help someone in need while they were in Honduras. They chose to buy food for the dump people. As gross as this sounds, refried bean sandwiches are loved by many Hondurans. Yesterday we bought enough beans and bread to make 250 sandwiches. This morning the four of us made the sandwiches. We had a good system and it did not take too long. We started down the hill and stopped to buy four stalks of bananas to go with the sandwiches.

As we headed toward the dump, I was quite nervous and a bit scared. I was afraid when we showed up with food we might get mobbed. I have heard the dump is dangerous. I silently prayed about my fears. We took off our rings and watches and, along with our cell phones and walllets, locked them in the glove box before we got to the dump.

We drove up and got out of the truck and locked it. We had decided to hand out the food out of the bed of the truck. At first, no one paid us much attention. When they realized we had food, they began to quickly make their way to us. There was really nothing of which to be afraid. Marc asked them to form one line and they did. One of the dump men helped keep them in that line and, at times, handed out some of the bananas.

I went to dump a few weeks back, but did not get out of the car. I thought I was prepared to go hand out food. I made a point of looking into the eyes of every person to whom I handed a sandwich and a banana. There were no smiles, no joy in their eyes. They were grateful. Oh yes, they were grateful. Each person said gracias. Some got their food and walked to the back of the line to get another one. We did not care.

These people were filthy and smelly. Some of their hands had so much black filth on them that I cannot imagine them ever being clean again, no matter how much scrubbing was done. There were small boys, about 8 - 11 years old. There alone, with no family. There was one little girl with her mommy. I think she was about our sweet Camille's age. Some of the ladies wanted to hug me and I did hug them.

I saw a few of the dump people making sure that everyone received both a sandwich and a banana. How Christlike is that?

Not knowing if the dump was safe or not, I chose to leave my camera behind. I did not want to have my camera stolen. But an even greater consideration in that choice was being respectful of these people. I would not want someone taking my picture if I was in the same circumstances. Therefore, my only picture is of making the sandwiches.

I maintained by composure while I was at the dump handing out food. But when we got back inside that car and drove away, I was crying my eyes out; so was Marc.

I am so thankful for a janitor at Harding University in Searcy, Arkansas that wanted to help someone. And with that hundred dollars he sent, we can feed the dump people bean sandwiches and bananas one more time.

Terri