Dirty Toes

After filling my belly with a delicious frijole, tortilla & plantain abundant dinner in the Petén of Guatemala, I met a young girl called Sonia. There was a connection made between her and I that no age or language barrier could break. I spoke very little Spanish and she spoke absolutely no English and yet we were instant best friends.
We sat together during the church service that evening holding hands & leaning against each other. The Guatemalan people are very friendly & physically affectionate, not afraid to step into your personal space, which makes some people very uncomfortable. I found it slightly invigorating to be affectionate with some one of the same sex without being aware of what people around me are thinking. Love is a language that needs no words.
The next day Sonia’s sister, Dorcas, was playing near the church and invited me and a couple friends to her home. “Vamonos,” Dorcas yelled and playfully ran ahead.

Dorcas was well ahead of us when her home came into view. Words became hard as it settled in my brain that Sonia, Dorcas and at least 4 other people lived in this mud hut with thatched leaf roof. The “yard” approaching the home was nearly all mud.
Upon crossing the threshold of the home without a door, we suddenly became very aware of our muddy shoes and attempted to wipe them off, but there was no mat. I felt a sinking in my soul. These people that had dirt floors in their home didn’t care in the least bit that we had muddy shoes. They warmly welcomed us with big hugs.
We saw mother in the kitchen, busy at work, shucking corn. Dorcas brought us to meet her mother and before we knew it, we were all shucking corn.
After leaving this humble home full of love and hard work, I began a long journey back to my Guatemalan home for the week. It wasn’t far in distance, but I’m not sure I’ll ever make it back to where I once was as person after this introduction to a new culture & perspective on life.