The Tropics
There are no high tech hospitals or medicines out here.
There are no high tech hospitals or medicines out here. There’s no police and there’s no ambulance. Everything like that is far away. Here things are always being eaten away at, man still hasn’t managed to conquer the tropics.
And I’m constantly reminded of my own insignificance. The early morning sun heats everything up and by ten o’clock you can barely breathe. Nobody gets anything done because it’s impossible to move. Everybody naps and waits for the sun to go away.
The rich use everything they can to keep the deterioration at bay. Pretend it doesn’t exist, and that the decay of heat and humidity don’t apply to them.
You’ll see them driving their cars with the air conditioner fogging the windows. Listening to hip hop so loud half the island hears it too. It’s their way of pretending they’re not like everyone else stuck on this island. That they can leave whenever they want, just start the engine and go for a drive in circles.
I wonder how guilty I am of doing the same. Of surrounding myself in comfort and entertainment, pretending I’m not subject to the same rules as everyone else. That somehow, because I’ve been born in a richer place, I’m above deterioration and dirtiness. But here, I feel vulnerable.
I came to get orphans safe drinking water, but the work I do deteriorates before it’s even finished. Who was I kidding, thinking I could do something lasting? The tropics destroy everything man does. So instead of fixing things forever, we focus on fixing things for the next month.
I teach the kids how to do back flips and we race on the beach. I give one of them my camera and he takes amazing photos. We go to church together and I sing for the first time. Then one of the kids asks me if I’ll adopt him.
I think of the life I could give him, with my limited resources. Working a low wage job full time might pay to support a kid. But then I wonder if it’s really better back in the states, with our instant access to everything.
I tell the kid “maybe”, but it doesn’t feel right. What do I have going on that’s more important than helping this child?
That night I can’t sleep because I’m a selfish asshole. I make up a million excuses for why I can’t adopt a kid. The mosquitoes buzz through my netting. I can’t get past all the obstacles.
