You can almost see the
heartbeats pushing themselves through the canyons of her ribs. She’s probably
exhausted from hauling the cart around from sun up to sun down. Perched atop her
chariot of splintered wood and shabby rubber tires are two dirt faced covered
boys who seem just as famished as the horse. The most grotesque thing of all is
that when people see this they typically feel bad for the horse and overlook
the people atop. It’s not her fault she was born into this life of hell,
pulling carts around on cracked pavement and cobblestone. She’s not where she’s
supposed to be. I’ve seen teams of wild horses grazing in the West Desert of
Utah. Also heard there were some in Georgia. They may not be native but they
are wild and much more vivacious than the horses of Montevideo.
Most importantly I want to make a point that I
don’t think poverty is the fault of the people guiding the horses and their
chariots of sorrow. Poverty is a systematic disease. It truly is. My heart goes
out to the people who have no other choice but to work these horses to death
for hey is much cheaper than oil. It’s not uncommon to see children and adults
digging through the dumpsters for plastic, metal and glass. They don’t even have
the luxury of finding freshly wrapped food that is a couple days expired much
like the dumpsters of the United States. Some have no compassion for them at
all. It’s the same as it is in the “land of plenty.” Get a job you lazy dirt
bag.
En la tierra de los Guachos I’ve heard a term that is used quite often. It
is a word I have come to abhor. Las Planchas. It’s used for the people who beg
on the streets. It’s used for people who help you park your car and afterwards
ask for money. For the window washers on the corner. For the ones who float
outside bars waiting to score an empty beer bottle. For the poor old man who is
lying on the street next to a spilled carton of wine. For the dirty kids along
La Rambla wearing the newest Nike shoes made in China. Be careful they might
steal yours if you don’t watch out. I can’t say I don’t understand why they
would do this for “las planchas” souls have been stolen before they even had
the chance to steal your soles. I shouldn’t speak so much of souls because I
don’t necessarily believe in them so perhaps I should say dignity. Perhaps I
should say their lives have been stolen from the day they were born into the slum.
Into poverty that is unimaginable. It’s their fault right? They’re lazy. That’s
why they are begging to wash your window. That is why the poor lazy boy is
heaving himself in and out of dumpsters to find bits of plastic and glass
bottles. It seems ironic because I would wager to say less than a third of the
people in the United States can do a pull up let alone jump into countless
dumpsters. Maybe if there were some McDonalds in there. Consume. Consume.
Consume. It saddens me.
Poverty in the United States
is generally understood as being brought about by the unwillingness to
contribute to society. I would love to see how a person from the United States
would cope if they were forced to live in a slum. I often hear people say
absurd things to lessen their guilt after seeing the shanty shacks. They would
say at least god blessed them with the fortune of life because people can be
happy in the ghetto for happiness is just a state of mind. Sadly there is
probably some truth to this, that happiness can be found even in the ghetto but
it does not make me happy seeing my American brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers
begging to make ends meet. I say Americans because I want to play the chord
that we are all Americans. Even the ones in the Central and Southern parts.
Todos somos Americanos. This is hard for people to see who believe in imaginary
lines and adhere to their xenophobic tendencies.
We are all the same yet the
expensive soles are worn while the poor souls in the factory are torn. We
should all have nice shoes.
