Yep, it really is. Plain concrete. Tin. And a bright light in my eyes as I tell you about it!
A man who works for us, (we'll call him Fenel) approached me recently asking for a gift of 2000 goudes. $31. With it, he would pay for a concrete floor so his family could move out of their rental and into their own house, saving 6 months of rent.
Of course we said yes. My one request? Was that he bring me a photo of it when it was done. A) to ensure that said money was spent on said project. B) because I wanted to see what this place actually looked like.
Well, he brought me the photo a few days ago. And I loved it. And it made me want to cry.
You see, this photo shows maybe a 10x10, one-room house. Concrete floor, tin walls, a bucket cemented into the floor that goes into a septic pit underneath the foundation. Way outside of town. A two hour commute on public transportation from his house to mine. This is where Fenel, his wife, and his four children will call home, sweet home.
It broke my heart that this was a good choice for them. That they are excited about this. That I whine about things like noise and heat when I live in a mansion, nay, a palace, compared to him. Hello, reality check.
But the joy? He has pride of ownership now. His family will live in a place that is theirs. And in a few hours he will bring me a quote for building block walls... because I can't stomach the idea that when the next tropical storm hits, I'll be waiting it out in my palace, enjoying the sound of the thunder, while his children huddle in their shanty, hoping their walls don't fly away.
It's a little thing, in the midst of the sea of poverty we float in. But I LOVE this little thing.