Christina

I saw her picking through the trash outside the market.  She seemed to be my age with a torn brown shirt and a faded blue jean skirt.  Her head was wrapped in an old rag and she had no shoes on her feet.  The bones on her chest stood out as the skin pulled too tightly against them.  As she reached into the bottom of the can a tall security guard walked by and she jumped back as if the blue can was somehow electric to her touch.  But the guard just continued on as if she was invisible and she resumed her wary stance over the bucket.  Her eyes were like a cat and they darted back and forth between the garbage, her own torn bag and the visitors in the market.  She seemed particularly interested in the plastic and food leftovers. 

I sat in my clean and safe car watching her. I wondered what could possibly drive a woman to that low existence.  I couldn’t help but feel pulled towards her: woman to woman. 

After she had completed her inspection and collection, she turned towards my car without seeing me.  “Hello” I said “How are you”?  This is the normal greeting in Uganda.  Every 2 year old child knows these few words in English.  The woman looked frightened.  Perhaps she thought I was going to cause a problem for her.  I kept a smile on my face so that she wouldn’t feel threatened and added, “What is your name”?  Her eyes stunned me.  She looked up at me and I was frozen with the hollowness of her eyes and cheeks.  She whispered, “Wimineza Christina mam”.  So she has some education then I thought.  Good.  “Christina, that is a beautiful name” I replied. “Christina mam,” she said once again.  Ok… maybe not as much education as most third graders. 

I continued for a few minutes asking her questions in broken sentences.  She seemed very willing to share and even covered her mouth in laughter when I was shocked by the fact that she had 8 children.  Nothing could have prepared me for how much money she made by selling and recycling plastic.  She made $4 a month.  Christina was raising her family on $4 a month and whatever left over food was available.  I am honestly not ok with this.  I can not believe that a woman in the world today has learned to pick and eat garbage along with 8 children to survive.  I am sick to death over the fact that Christina is serving garbage to children and I know she is barely eating anything as evidenced in her emaciated frame.

When I gave her a gift her wide eyes opened in shock.  In one moment I had given her 2 months salary ($8).  She stopped trying to speak English and began to ramble in Lugandan.  I will never know what she said to me but her eyes said it all.  Tonight there are 8 children who will eat a proper meal for the first time in a long time.  Christina, wherever you are… I am praying for you tonight.