We Have No Clue…

Sometimes, I am just amazed at what I hear or see. As I drive to work in the morning, I see people with grocery carts, less than two miles from my home, loaded with their “stuff.” Although they are sleeping or sitting on a bus bench, I don’t think they are waiting for the bus…more like just resting before moving on.

As I get closer to downtown and the location of my office, I see a few homeless camps. One under the interstate is huge…tarps, blankets, plastic garbage bags make the walls, but I can see a rocker, a desk or table of some sort, and piles of “stuff” that probably include clothes, pillows, and other gems these people have scavenged along the way. These people live there, day in and day out. They sleep there and it’s pretty gross, not to mention safety and sanitation.

I know that many are mentally ill. Many are drug addicted. Many are alone, with no one who cares or knows where they are. Many are in this situation because they know nothing else. None of it is good. I’m convinced that no one really chooses this life but the human spirit somehow helps them survive in whatever way they can.

Some of the people we service through my job have multiple families under one roof. Not just an aging parent, but two or three families functioning the best they can with everyone contributing to a house payment of $400-$500 a month. So, when they say they don’t have internet or a checking account or wifi, it is a shock, but believable.

Last week at physical therapy, my therapist was working with two of us. The other person next to me had hurt both wrists at work. He was a twenty-something, handsome young man. My therapist introduced us and the three of us started conversing.

This young man, Mohammed, was from Syria and had been in Kentucky for five years. He was a US citizen and I complimented him on his wonderful English. He told us that he had worked really hard learning English when he arrived, mostly by listening to rap music non-stop and with the guys at work. I’m sure he learned some words he really didn’t need to know, but his accent was barely noticeable…in just five years. The therapist asked him if he missed Syria and he said, “No, Syria was not a good place for me.” In a shortened version, he told us that he had been arrested in Syria with a large group of young people for protesting the government. They were confined, but were able to make a run for it one night and they escaped to Jordan. He was able to find asylum in Jordan and eventually got to go to four years of “university” (his word for college).

After graduating, he and a cousin made their way to Kentucky, where another relative was living. He told us he misses is parents terribly, but his two brothers and a sister arrived here about three years ago. They share a nice apartment on Bardstown Road. He drives a 2019 Mustang and he is working for Ford. Overall, a great guy in my opinion. He is living a responsible life, his siblings are doing the same, and he feels safe in his home. He is vaccinated and grateful for all that he has and those who have helped him along the way.

Our therapist then asked Mohammed how long he was detained in Syria. He said, “long enough to have them torture us.” He then showed us scars on his arms that were where the guards had sliced him with a knife, then poured salt into the wounds until the pain caused him to pass out. This was a daily occurrence while he was there. One night, several of the young men, determined to get away, made a plan and soon, they were on the run. Somehow, they escaped without injury. He said that Syria was such a mess with children shot and killed in the streets in front of his eyes. He knew he had to get out or die and with the help of the US Embassy he made it here.

I was fascinated, shocked, sickened, and dumbfounded. I sat there, speechless (truly!) and almost began to cry. WE HAVE NO CLUE!

Although we didn’t have a fancy life, I have never, NEVER wanted for anything in my life. I know very few people in my life have ever been homeless or hungry. When I think about fortunate, I am, I realize that I really have no clue of what others must be dealing with or what kind of journey they may have taken to get where they are now.

These situations are the things that help me remember, I am fortunate. I have a roof over my head and food on the table. I’m able to help others and I do so frequently. Maybe I need to step it up a bit.

Maybe we all need to watch how we jump to conclusions or make judgements before we really know what may have caused a person to have done something that we don’t understand.

So…sorry if this was too much for some, and I don’t like ending this way, so to lighten the mood, enjoy this memory from Katie’s camp days…I’m not sure what the prompt was, but one of her campers wrote this…Fart Like You Mean It! He was 8 years old at the time!