is this real life?

I often say the phrase, “Is this real life?”
Someone does something ridiculous and I glance to those around me and sarcastically ask, “Is this real life?”
A friend of a patient's mom at work talks to me at the desk for 10 minutes, mind you she has no teeth, about the most insane things and as colleagues are laughing while she walks away, “is this real life? Am I being punk’d?”
Sadly, all those situations are legitimately real.
But I asked myself that question today on numerous occasions.

I am not the most adventurous person, per say. I love to see new things and meet new people but I am not usually the first to jump on a ledge and say, “oh me! Pick me! I want to try that new thing first!” I like what I like. I don’t like things that make me feel uncomfortable. In fact, I typically buckle down and flat out refuse to do them. I knew coming to Africa and spending 9 weeks in Benin would be out of comfort zone…kind of. Being with the children. Helping with anything for the organization. Laughing with Ashley. Being hot and sweaty. Doing anything medically to help. Providing a helping hand and listening ear wherever it's needed. None of these things are out of my comfort zone. In fact, I feel very comfortable doing these things. But the moto that I am needing to learn to drive? That is out of my comfort zone. I’m not one for thrill and danger, but there is no other option, is there? So today, not only did I ride on the back of a moto for the first time in Sakete, a city with no street signs or traffic signs and basically no driving laws but I DROVE a moto in Sakete!!!!! I will be the first to admit, it was a rough go at first. I had grown quite comfortable with the idea of riding the moto by the time we got to the pavement where Katinka and I were going to learn to drive them. There’s a large power plant for the countries of Togo and Benin by Ashley and Jon’s apartment, there is a paved road leading from a busy main street down to the plant. So off katinka and I went back and forth on this street for a good hour or so. A sweet high school boy from the centre, Seraphine, got roped into being my teacher and he was so so so patient. The first few times were rough. The going part became easy but the turning part kept getting me! I would try to turn that bad boy and it just would not work out the way it was intended to work. (I am fully aware that this is all due to operator error!) The first time I successfully turned without basically having to stop and turn the moto with my feet down, Seraphine got so excited and I’m pretty sure I was screaming “YEAH BOYIEEEEEE!!!” the whole way down the road. ☺ this will all definitely be a work in progress because paved roads are minimal here. There is one main road that leads from cotonou (where I flew in), through porto novo, and then to sakete, but everything off this main road is dirt. Not smooth dirt. Rough, rocky, bumpy, dirt. So it was decided by our moto instructors that we would first learn to master the moto on the pavement before attempting the janky roads that lead everywhere. Good call, right? I tried my best to channel my inner braveness but I’m pretty sure I got a tension headache from gripping the handlebars too tight. But, I did it. Is this real life?

We got back to the centre after our moto lesson and the children were slowing coming back from school. Jon and Mathias (a native Beninese man who works for arbre de vie) were on their way to the next town over to check in on 2 young boys who are sponsored by arbre de vie. These boys are being raised by their grandmother because their father died and their mother is ill. Thank God Jon and Ashley just bought that 4x4 suv earlier this week because we worked that thing over today! We meandered our way through the bush of Africa, and I am still not quite certain how in the world Mathias remembered and knew which fork in the road we were supposed to take, but he did. We arrived at the grandmother’s house and it was absolutely unreal. Many men, women and children quickly got wind that there were 2 white girls and 1 tall white man in their village and found their way over to this house. They were so gracious, running to a house down the road to get a bench for us all to sit on. (the grandmother’s only bench is broken.) There was the absolute cutest baby boy and it took everything I had to not snatch him up and bring him home with me! (teasing. Kind of.) he kept crawling all over the dirt, playing with a metal circle. I would guess he was probably 7 or 8 months old. Katinka and I started talking while jon and mathias were conversing with the grandmother about the boys’ condition and status of how things have been going since they began being sponsored this past summer. She said something that really struck me and I want to leave you with that thought tonight.

Obviously you all did not see what I saw.

The mud hut, with nothing in it.
The children’s faces.
The idea that no one knows how old these boys are.
The thought that their birthdays will be never be celebrated.
The children's bodies with nothing but ragged underwear on.
Their barefeet.
The teenager nursing her infant.
The strong hands of a noble grandmother, doing everything she can to provide for her grandsons.

But the question Katinka asked will haunt my soul forever.
And even though you didn't see what I saw, I want to ask you the same question...
How can these people be living on the same planet that I’m living on?
How is it even justifiable for these people to literally have nothing and for myself, and the people I know, to literally have everything they could EVER need and want plus much, much more?
Is this real life?

These are the ugly questions I have to ask myself friends.
These are the questions that really matter.
As you go to sleep tonight, it is my prayer that you will ask yourself this very same question.
You can pretend like it’s not happening.
Go about your life.
But the absolute fact is, it is happening.
I am here to tell you that it is.
I have seen it with my own eyes.
And felt the disgust of it deep in my soul.