Eyes that tell a story...

...I walk to the farther end of the slums, deep among the 'tents', or whatever... So few we really need... Food, pure water, some place to sleep and friends/community. I had everything over there in Europe: fancy car, nice house, job; still I felt some kind of emptiness. And what these people have? Practically nothing but the very basics. I imagine how most of us in Europe would react to such conditions... With intense envy, hatred, depression, hopelessness. And These people smile-not with the American 'keep-smiling', but from the bottom of their heart. Of course we were conditioned in vastly different ways-still...

They let me in their home, offer a chai and when I try to argue (thinking of my stomach and the millions of bacteria which might be in that water...) they say that they are the very poorest, so I should respect they invitation. And I do. We barely can talk but there is some deep contact nevertheless. Two world have met here, now...

Could I live here? With my European background probably not, unless I am forced to. But it is human, too. I had prejudices but now I feel we are equal; we all share the very same ups-and-downs of human existence. These prejudices... Just alienate us to fet our egos. Among different conditions, though... They are smiling, the children are happily playing in the dust, still, in many eyes I can see something when they forget about themselves; some wondering, some toughness, some resignation, some mixture of unconscious blame and envy. Blame not me, but destiny. Envy not my goods, but asking fate without words: why, why me?

Then the answer comes: karma. And they smile at me again full-heartedly. All right, it is karma-it had been written before they were born here and I was born there. That's it? So, should we continue to fight for a second car, for a bigger house, for a Hugo Boss shirt over there, and should they continue fighting for tomorrow food over here? Is that all right..?