Manuel Antonio Salas and Others

It begins with a ring of our buzzer. We greet them as we look out our window near the front gate. They start out asking, in español of course, if we speak any Spanish. We smile and say, "A little." That's the only encouragment they need to launch into a story at lightning speed. Our brains are left in the dust trying to play catch-up, and usually lag behind by at least 3 or 4 sentences if not a paragraph! : )

I would like to introduce you to all of the many visitors we've had at our gate since arriving here in August. Hunger and poverty have individual names and faces, and heartbreaking stories, and unlike in the US, they come up and ring your doorbell. Since I can't introduce each one, I would like for you to meet several in particular.

Manuel Antonio Salas came by one evening a couple of weeks ago. Tully and I went out and talked with him for a few minutes as the children were getting together some food for him. He said he had been a taxista, a taxi driver (which is a good job here), for many years and for the last few months had not been able to work. I asked him his name and he proudly gave us his whole name. "Manuel Antonio Salas." It was a little unusual as most only offer their first names, or first and last. Not Manuel. He gave us his whole name time and again. Like, please don't forget me. I'm important. Tully asked him if he knows Jesus, and he immediately grinned and said, "Sí, yo amo a Jesús." ("Yes, I love Jesus.") He asked if we knew Jesus and when we told him we do, and we love Him also, he stated that he thought so. Forgetting him is an impossibility. His name keeps going through my mind at odd times of the day. I wonder what he's doing right now. Was he warm and dry when it was pouring for several hours yesterday? Where does he sleep? Where did he eat last night? Did Manuel Antonio Salas eat?



Secondly, I'd like to introduce Eduardo. He's a regular. He has some stomach pain and is extremely thin. We give him food and he thanks us profusely. Last week he came by and had a trinket he was selling for the church up the road. He said it was a fundraiser for them, the money was not for him. It is the general consensus here that giving money is a bad idea for obvious reasons--just like at home, money can be used for drugs and/or alcohol. We said we couldn't give him any money, but we could give him some food. He protested a little, but took the food and went on his way.



This man came by yesterday and asked if he could cut our grass. Regretfully, I did not get his name. He said that he did not have any work and his baby needed milk. We agreed on a price and he went to work with his machete. A couple of minutes later, the bottom dropped out of the sky--it was the hardest rain we've had in several days. Gabriel and I were sitting in our living room reading a book together as we listened to the pouring rain. Over the sound of the rain we could hear his machete chopping rhythmically, never pausing, never hurrying. He was wearing glasses, had no umbrella, and he stayed on the job until it was carefully and neatly completed.



Confronted daily with poverty and hunger, we are constantly reminded of the verse, ". . .whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." May we do in all things as if we are doing for Jesus.