Behemoth of Progress

Spending twenty minutes doing nothing seem like an easy assignment, but not after what I went through. My sister and I decided to performed this exercise together and compare experiences afterward. Rather than seating in a room doing absolutely nothing, we decided do something a bit more interesting. On Saturday, we visited La Ermita de la Caridad. Luckily the trip usually takes exactly a twenty minute drive from my house. I had my mother drive us to the church. In order to facilitate our experience we had the radio turned off.  Also, we decided to take a different route. Little did we know how frightening and unexpected experience was going to become.




At first, I thought I would write about the beautiful sunset or the quiet streets. However, after the car drove pass the Metro Rail, we found ourselves in uncharted territory. The quietude of our little neighborhood suddenly vanished. Instead, I saw a barren and broken-down neighborhood.  Beneath the unfinished Metro Rail bridge lives a small African American community. It was our first time in this neighborhood. Suddenly, the traffic sign turns yellow.  Mother puts the pedal to the metal, but to no avail. The light turned red.

A group of scary looking people walked toward our car. I wanted to scream, but was too afraid to do so. Here where two or three strangers coming toward us, and we had no idea where we were. Suddenly, one of those scary, frightening men knocked against the window with a cup. “What do you want,” my mother mumbled. The man banged his cup against the windows. “Can you spare 25cents please,” uttered the man.

I than noticed he was a beggar. We gave a sigh of relief and offered him what little spare change we had. As we stumbled past the uncharted streets, I noticed the burned garbage cans, and the broken trailers. People living under the unfinished bridge, seating around burned garbage cans. These kinds of stuff you see in movies, but cannot imagine seeing in real life. I found myself faced with a reality worst than my own. It was bewildering, and terrifying. I saw families cooking around a campfire and a sign of an Episcopalian church with a Martin Luther king like priest screaming at the entrance. I saw an unfamiliar gas station on Martin Luther King and Malcolm X Avenue.

The car drove aimlessly through the streets. I saw unfinished metro rail pillars thru the town. I imagined I would hear a story in the news about families who lost their houses due to the construction of a metro rail. People who would have to be relocated to allow the passage of this iron behemoth of progress. Then again, maybe I won’t hear anything.