The teachers and Didis laugh at me through their dark teeth,
as I give the children hand sanitizer.
They look at me like its just a game I am playing with the children,
a little puddle of play water in their hands.
The children look to them, putting dirty sticks in their mouths like untrained dogs,
diving their unwashed hands into their unbalanced meals of rice and bread.
How are the children supposed to learn and grow by such incorrect examples?
How is such sickness and poverty supposed to be resolved
when corrections are not being made, therefore advancement is minimal?
How are the undereducated supposed to teach the uneducated?
This is the strife of the 3rd world.
The imbalance is astounding.
Lack of education, of infrastructure, of leadership.
No way up, no way out
but us and our hand wash,
our play water.
(note from author: none of this poem is supposed to be offensive, and if it is I apologize greatly. Was written out of frustration, but not anger, out of care.)
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