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The "Hate where I live" thread made me think about this. My mood has always been "brought down" by ugliness and squalor.
Yet I know some people genuinely "don't see it" and aren't affected by it. In the Midwest, it was cars on blocks, major appliances outside or on the porch, unkempt surroundings. Peeling siding, roofs with tarps on them. I find it sad, but the people seem just fine. But what do I know? They might be miserable.
Since we have no real freeways here, to get to the big city we have to drive through numerous tiny shanty towns and I feel bad for the people living in shacks on stilts, no running water or indoor plumbing, living hand-to-mouth on what? A tiny scrap of garden with roadside stands selling watermelons and coconuts. In many places, they don't pick up their trash so the streets are littered.
When I see videos of desolated inner Detroit, I feel badly. Or the ugly Russian gray blocks of apartments that look so bleak.
For example, I once knew a successful, well-dressed IT guy who traveled all over the country, staying in nice hotels. When I saw his home, I was appalled. It was a literal tar-paper shack with different colors of tar-paper for siding, a falling-down roof, a dark area with no sun....his comment was: "I'm not very observant", lol.
I took a month-long trip to Madagascar with friends who'd been there multiple times. We spent most of our time traveling back roads through small villages all over the country.
Was there extreme poverty? Yes. Would I call it squalor? My definition of squalor, even poverty changed a lot because of that trip. Sure, the standard of living was incredibly different than what I was used to and it was a shock. Dirt floored huts with thatch roofing that may or may not exclude the weather or the local wildlife, no running water, primitive or non-existent plumbing, little to no furnishings, cooking over fires, no refrigeration, no social services, real subsistence from hand to mouth via crop field or barnyard or going hungry. It depressed me at first, and I felt embarrassed by how well off I would appear to the folks we met, but I had a major epiphany fairly quickly. Many of the people we met were content, even happy. It was what they were used to, and they knew how to function with what they had. They had nothing to compare their lifestyle to anyway. Life was what it was, and they got on with it. Or not. Took reality in stride and didn't really have time or inclination to moan about it. I admired and respected the people we met immensely and felt like a spoiled child by comparison. So, in that way it wasn't depressing. It was uplifting.
Did bad things happen to good people? Yes. Untreated illnesses, unaccommodated disabilities, yes. I was impressed how, in spite of having little ability to "improve", how carefully kept most places were. Lack of what I might call cleanliness was due more to ignorance, not willful neglect. Little to no trash or garbage around because everything remotely useful was used. Clothing may have been threadbare, handed down for years or imported bulk junk from China, but it was cared for. Belongings, machinery and other goods were valued and used up completely, repaired, cobbled together into something else and used again.
There's a difference between squalor that's a product of downtrodden neglect, anger and apathy, and making-do-with-what's-available practicality and perseverance. People were welcoming, friendly, curious, and unfailingly polite. Most were literate despite having little to read. Seem to recall that Madagascar had one of the highest literacy rates of any country. Consequently, much of this "squalor" wasn't ugly because the people weren't ugly in mind. There was a patient, competent dignity to it. I am not suggesting that the conditions these folks lived in shouldn't or couldn't be improved. It can, but something precious can get lost along the way.
Sorry if I am not describing this well. It's a hard thing to put into words without sounding patronizing.
Last edited by Parnassia; 08-23-2022 at 04:07 PM..
It doesn't bother me, as I realize that people and their expectations are different. I try very hard not to judge others making a comparison between my reality versus their reality.
We had a social worker once that was talking about adoption/foster care, and she had said that they (social workers) had to learn that families wanting to foster or adopt didn't always have the home, etc. that they had, but that they would/were great parents that could meet the needs of the children despite that.
I sometimes envy those that have a simpler life, despite their lack of possessions.
The "Hate where I live" thread made me think about this. My mood has always been "brought down" by ugliness and squalor.
Yet I know some people genuinely "don't see it" and aren't affected by it.
Except ugliness/poverty/neglect is everywhere, whether you (choose to) see it on any given day, or not. There is no perfect City in which it does not exist; and some are affected by it enough to actually (try to) do something about it vs. moving elsewhere to hide from reality.
In other words, all of us find our own happiness/beauty in life regardless.
I took a month-long trip to Madagascar with friends who'd been there multiple times. We spent most of our time traveling back roads through small villages all over the country.
Was there extreme poverty? Yes. Would I call it squalor? My definition of squalor, even poverty changed a lot because of that trip. Sure, the standard of living was incredibly different than what I was used to and it was a shock. Dirt floored huts with thatch roofing that may or may not exclude the weather or the local wildlife, no running water, primitive or non-existent plumbing, little to no furnishings, cooking over fires, no refrigeration, no social services, real subsistence from hand to mouth via crop field or barnyard or going hungry. It depressed me at first, and I felt embarrassed by how well off I would appear to the folks we met, but I had a major epiphany fairly quickly. Many of the people we met were content, even happy. It was what they were used to, and they knew how to function with what they had. They had nothing to compare their lifestyle to anyway. Life was what it was, and they got on with it. Or not. Took reality in stride and didn't really have time or inclination to moan about it. I admired and respected the people we met immensely and felt like a spoiled child by comparison. So, in that way it wasn't depressing. It was uplifting.
Did bad things happen to good people? Yes. Untreated illnesses, unaccommodated disabilities, yes. I was impressed how, in spite of having little ability to "improve", how carefully kept most places were. Lack of what I might call cleanliness was due more to ignorance, not willful neglect. Little to no trash or garbage around because everything remotely useful was used. Clothing may have been threadbare, handed down for years or imported bulk junk from China, but it was cared for. Belongings, machinery and other goods were valued and used up completely, repaired, cobbled together into something else and used again.
There's a difference between squalor that's a product of downtrodden neglect, anger and apathy, and making-do-with-what's-available practicality and perseverance. People were welcoming, friendly, curious, and unfailingly polite. Most were literate despite having little to read. Seem to recall that Madagascar had one of the highest literacy rates of any country. Consequently, much of this "squalor" wasn't ugly because the people weren't ugly in mind. There was a patient, competent dignity to it. I am not suggesting that the conditions these folks lived in shouldn't or couldn't be improved. It can, but something precious can get lost along the way.
Sorry if I am not describing this well. It's a hard thing to put into words without sounding patronizing.
this is how I felt when I went to Panama. Lots of "poor" folks - but so nice.
Funny when I drive through a rougher neighborhood I'm always amazed by the one guy that has a perfect lawn, fenced yard and its neat and tidy despite neighbors that look like junkyards. I always want to congratulate that guy for having the nicest house/yard in the neighborhood and wonder why others don't aspire to be like that!
I took a month-long trip to Madagascar with friends who'd been there multiple times. We spent most of our time traveling back roads through small villages all over the country.
Was there extreme poverty? Yes. Would I call it squalor? My definition of squalor, even poverty changed a lot because of that trip. Sure, the standard of living was incredibly different than what I was used to and it was a shock. Dirt floored huts with thatch roofing that may or may not exclude the weather or the local wildlife, no running water, primitive or non-existent plumbing, little to no furnishings, cooking over fires, no refrigeration, no social services, real subsistence from hand to mouth via crop field or barnyard or going hungry. It depressed me at first, and I felt embarrassed by how well off I would appear to the folks we met, but I had a major epiphany fairly quickly. Many of the people we met were content, even happy. It was what they were used to, and they knew how to function with what they had. They had nothing to compare their lifestyle to anyway. Life was what it was, and they got on with it. Or not. Took reality in stride and didn't really have time or inclination to moan about it. I admired and respected the people we met immensely and felt like a spoiled child by comparison. So, in that way it wasn't depressing. It was uplifting.
Did bad things happen to good people? Yes. Untreated illnesses, unaccommodated disabilities, yes. I was impressed how, in spite of having little ability to "improve", how carefully kept most places were. Lack of what I might call cleanliness was due more to ignorance, not willful neglect. Little to no trash or garbage around because everything remotely useful was used. Clothing may have been threadbare, handed down for years or imported bulk junk from China, but it was cared for. Belongings, machinery and other goods were valued and used up completely, repaired, cobbled together into something else and used again.
There's a difference between squalor that's a product of downtrodden neglect, anger and apathy, and making-do-with-what's-available practicality and perseverance. People were welcoming, friendly, curious, and unfailingly polite. Most were literate despite having little to read. Seem to recall that Madagascar had one of the highest literacy rates of any country. Consequently, much of this "squalor" wasn't ugly because the people weren't ugly in mind. There was a patient, competent dignity to it. I am not suggesting that the conditions these folks lived in shouldn't or couldn't be improved. It can, but something precious can get lost along the way.
Sorry if I am not describing this well. It's a hard thing to put into words without sounding patronizing.
You described it beautifully! What you describe is like here, outside of the big cities. The neat little farms, the roadside stands, skinny feral dogs, the chickens pecking in the yards, donkeys tied to the side of the road eating down the weeds. Some places are neat, but some let trash accumulate. They all try to have some kind of landscaping though, which impresses me. Even the saddest little shack might have colorful bougainvillea cascading over the roof.
You are right in that they do repair stuff too. Someone always snatches up the dead TVs, appliances and other stuff we'd throw away. The cobbled-together cars and little pickups are a sight to see. A dozen workers riding to their job standing in the back of a pickup.
Their strong social ties and family structure seem to keep them content and no one seems bitter.
It IS hard to describe without sounding patronizing, so thanks for your contribution. I am impressed by Madagascar's literacy. Many here are illiterate. You made a good point about "patience" too---I am amazed at how they will stand in lines for hours---at the bank! "Cheerfully resigned" one might say.
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