Poverty, the Key to Freedom

By Sam R. Missionary in Senegal

Every other Wednesday, we visit the local landfill called Mbeubeuss. Here, thousands of people scavenge through trash daily looking for things to repurpose or sell. We have many good friends who work there every day, and others even who live inside of the dump. They have taken tin, wood, old signs, and rugs to construct their homes. There are people who have opened restaurants inside and others who sell goods and services. There is a society living among Dakar’s rejected items. I think many of her citizens see those who live and work there as rejects as well, and I used to fear that our friends inside believed themselves the same. 

A few weeks ago, Tanguy, Ira, and I caught a ride with a garbage truck and headed into the dump. After a few hours talking with people there, we decided to search for one of our old friends, Lai, whom I hadn’t seen since Christmas. Tanguy and I had unsuccessfully searched for him a few times before, navigating our way through massive piles of old sandals and broken toys. This time, however, we found our friend. He was elated to see us! He took us around to visit his neighbors, and later we encountered Bull, another one of our friends. Bull and Lai are surely two of the least judgmental people I have met in my entire life. They don’t seem to have any kind of expectation from anyone. Spending time with them is great, as there is no pressure to say or do anything; one can just sit… for hours and hours.

Ira, Tanguy, and I were ready to head out and go into a town next door to visit some other friends when Lai and Bull asked if we wanted to go to the beach. They said it wasn’t long. 

When we made it to the beach, we all began to play around like children, running and making games out of pieces of washed-up debris. Lai started to play some music with an old bucket, worried about nothing else in the world, totally free to be himself. Neither of the men has a personality that forces itself on you. In fact, I think they are incredibly poor, in that real poverty is being able to receive whatever is given. We spent the afternoon there, resting like kids in the extreme simplicity. Thanks be to God.