Mukha na mahirap

Mukha na mahirap, the face of poverty and hardship, has been staring at me for days. Slowly I am recognizing what I see.

The face of poverty is patient. When there are few choices, and poverty is defined by no choices, poverty waits for a slim chance. The old man who needs a nebulizer treatment waits for two hours while a missing part is purchased in town. The young moms with tiny children wait patiently in lines till their number is called. A visit to the medical clinic probably will take their whole day but they have no resources to go where they could be seen more quickly.

The face of poverty is accepting. At lunch time Kuya Steve makes an announcement that there will be a one hour break for the doctors and other staff to get lunch. Anyone with a number over 145 needs to come back at one o’clock. There is quiet acceptance and no complaining. Some wander home to get some food themselves, but others simply sit and wait till the doctors return. Babies are nursed, children play back and forth to the beach, men sit and talk in the shade, teens banter.

The face of poverty is resilient. One young mom brings her little son who a week ago was covered with boils. He still is not healed, but last week the team was able to start him on some mild antibiotic. Today the doctor starts him on a much more intense antibiotic. Meanwhile the little guy is happy and cheerful.

The face of poverty trusts. Moms, dads, teens, and children listen patiently time after time to the instructions given by the nurses in the pharmacy. Scabies, for example, is rampant. The treatment is lengthy, and must be done carefully. Face after face watches the nurse carefully as he or she walks them through the treatment plan, how to store the “pretty” purple poison jar high above little hands, how to wash bedding and air it out in the hot sun. There are few questions. A nurse in a uniform, a doctor with a stethoscope, a public health specialist, surely they know what they are talking about more than mukha na mahirap. And because the people sponsoring the clinic have lived and worked here for years, they have earned trust.

The face of poverty is wary. Medicine is needed, medical help is welcome, but there’s a wariness in some eyes that says, “Do you have any idea how hard my life is?” No, we inherently don’t, but standing in the middle of your community, we get a good dose of reality.

The face of poverty is gracious, at least in these desperately poor communities. Every package of medicine is received with a warm smile and a deep thank you.

The face of poverty is beautiful. It is not what we have that makes beauty, or ugliness. It is God who creates beautiful people and puts them in this paradise, even if they are mukha na mahirap.