Lakshmi

I think if I said the word "Guatemala" even one more time, someone somewhere would roll their eyes at my near-obsession. It is obvious to probably my entire social network that I love the time I have spent getting to know the people in Guatemala City. The area I visit each summer is struggling with some severe poverty, and because of my experiences and friendships there, I have a passion for serving the poor around the world.

Therefore. My plan for this senior project is to have a theme along the lines of global poverty.

The first novel I chose to read is called "Sold" by Patricia McCormick. It is the story of a young teenage girl- Lakshmi- who is growing up in Nepal in desperate conditions with her mother, step-father, and baby brother. She survives first a terrible drought and then the overwhelming monsoons. Her step-father is an irresponsible gambler who consistently loses the little money they have. She is surviving in a male-dominated society with little to appreciate and much to envy, yet she carries herself with humbleness and optimism. Lakshmi is already an admirable character for whom I find myself sympathizing even in the first forty pages. 

The book is written in first person from Lakshmi's point of view in a fairly objective narration of her life. Every page or two begins with a new title, almost as in a diary or a set of poems. The author uses several shortened, "half" sentences to add to the bluntness. It is as if what she describes is thrown in my face rather than "painting a picture in my mind." When talking about all that her family has given up in order to survive she says:

"I watch for Ama on the path below, and wonder what will be lost next.

Later, when I see her climbing the hill to our hut, I know.

It is the joyful noise of her earrings.

And the proud set of her head." (p. 35)

Another time she talks of her ruined rice paddy next to her neighbor's proud rice crops:

"My stomach churns with something bitter. I do not know if it is hunger.

Or envy." (p. 34)

I was surprised at how attached I feel to Lakshmi having just begun the book. Ironically, the objectiveness actually adds to the emotion of Lakshmi's story. The idea of any 13-year-old speaking matter-of-fact-ly of her four younger brothers who did not live past their first year, or of her list of neighbors to whom her family owes money, is heart-wrenching. What she lives through is unimaginable, yet it is disgustingly normal for real girls her age in many parts of the world. 

One of the most striking parts in my mind was when Lakshmi reviewed her mother's advice on becoming a woman:

"Never look a man in the eye.

Never allow yourself to be alone with a man who is not family.

...

Once you are married, she says, you must eat your meal only after your husband has had his fill. Then you may have what remains.

...

If he turns to you in the night, you must give yourself to him, in the hopes that you will bear him a son.

If you have a son, feed him at your breast until he is four.

If you have a daughter, feed her at your breast for just a season, so that your blood will start again and you can try once more to bear a son.

If your husband asks you to wash his feet, you must do as he says, then put a bit of the water in your mouth.

...

'Simply to endure,' she says, 'is to triumph.'" (p. 15-16)

Based on the title and the summary, I know Lakshmi has not experienced the worst yet. Eventually she will be unknowingly sold into sex slavery. Already hurting for her, I can hardly bear to think her story is real for so many. I am a wealthy, unfairly advantaged American teenager, and I know many others like me. I wonder what we can do for the many others like Lakshmi.