Our Return to Puca-Chikta: Part 2

[Read Part 1 of Our Return to Puca-Chikta here: http://soallmayknow.org/our-return-to-puca-chikta-part-1/]
We sit on a bench in front of her home — a hut, really — and catch up while I paint faces.

“You were so young when you first visited our village,” Evelin says. “You’ve changed a lot.”
I have changed. Our family had just moved to Ecuador when we visited Puca-Chikta for the first time. [I actually wrote about the experience here: http://soallmayknow.org/voy-un-paso-mas-im-going-one-step-further/]
“You’ve changed too,” I remind her. “Viejita, you’re old now.” She’s thirteen… in a few years, she’ll be old enough to get married here.

Our little conversation continues, and I debate inwardly on whether I should ask about school.
“So, Evelin, how’s school?” I probe.
Her eyes shift away from me.
“School?” I ask again.
She won’t look at me. She won’t answer.

There she goes, breaking my heart into a million pieces.
I assure her that it’s fine, and I change the subject as fast as possible.
But inside? I’m screaming.
Children receive such little education in remote villages like this one. Government funding is minimal, and the teachers aren’t equipped to do their jobs. Many of them haven’t been well educated either.
And now it appears that Evelin’s not getting any of it. None of the classroom learning at all.

It’s not fair.
And it’s not just the school thing — it’s everything.
It’s not fair that Evelin’s family of seven is living in a tiny, three-walled, dirt floor shanty.
It’s not fair that her little brothers’ teeth are rotting away, because the can’t see a dentist to figure out what’s the matter.
It’s not fair that her little sisters have worms eating away at the insides of their eyes, and they can’t see a real doctor.

Evelin wakes up to either unbearable heat and stench, or rain soaking her through the roof. She goes to sleep at night with an empty stomach and an unsaved soul.

Evelin lives a simple life. It’s filled with many horrible things, and it’s missing the most important thing. That’s a harsh reality I have to face. And I can try to imagine… but I will never understand.

I don’t claim to understand just because it’s simple.
I’m aware of her great needs, small hopes, and no idea of the world outside her village. But I don’t dare claim to understand her life until I’ve endured the same impoverishment and affliction.

She has nothing. Pray that she accepts Christ.
Because then she will have everything.

So All May Know,
Madeline Studebaker

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