Disclaimer: These daily blogs are based on journal entries during my two and a half week trip broken into seven installments. Over the next week, you will learn more and more. The idea behind doing it this way is so you can go through the process of experiencing a portion of my experiences in the same progression of events that I did. The goal is that by the end of the seventh blog, you will have the context to understand why and how I intend to continue serving these people.
Cabbage Patch Kid Unity: Day 6 -- August 9, 2013
I died and came back to life today, so it seemed. After four straight days of 120 degree weather, not to mention the extreme humidity, I about lost it. After returning home to America to do some calculations to determine how hot 47 and 49 degrees Celsius was: it is 116 and 120 degrees Fahrenheit respectively, and at the time of checking (3am Ukrainian time) there was 77% humidity, just to give you a little glimpse.
The mother is skeptical about going somewhere to work, even though she enjoys working, and is excited about the farm because it is in their backyards and she cannot be scammed. Many years ago, the mother went away for a whole year to the Russian border of Ukraine above Kyiv to bake and cool in a factory at the promise of $2,000/month, which is a big deal. Sadly, though, at the end of the year, they only have her $100 for the entire year and harassed her to leave at risk of being killed all because she was a Gypsy. Moreover, Gypsies are falsely prosecuted against and are victims of the corrupt Ukrainian police’s refusal to protect.
There are children in this world denied entrance into school because of the color of their skin. There are people in the world who are given work with promise of a certain pay, and shooed away with a mere fraction of that promise all because of the color of their skin, and because they know the Gypsies cannot go to police either because the police refuse to protect them: that is discrimination. Stop complaining when you do not get your way, because like the principle of The Boy that Cried Wolf, it lessens the credibility of the legitimate cases of discrimination in this country and world when you abuse that battle cry. Sorry for the rant, but this is one of those things I think everybody is thinking but too afraid to say--and I admit, it is easier to say behind the safety of my computer screen. However, whenever somebody cries discrimination, I have a standard of discrimination in mind: this, and the many other, Gypsy just trying to feed their children and family. I have looked discrimination in the face, and it overwhelms me with grief.
Tomorrow's blog post is entitled "A Place the Government Prohibits the Gospel." Come back tomorrow to read about the orphanage we visited that day and our nerve-racking experience with the orphans.