In order to learn about the more on meaning of poverty, we had the privilege to visit Jinteoga’s city dump. Upon our arrival at the dump, our noses were flooded with the potent smell of trash, rubble, and feces. Myriad flies swarmed us. Dogs’ ribs were shown. Many eyes watched the strange Americans. People, actual families, lived along side the heaping piles of trash. ¬†All these families couldn’t find jobs back in Jinotega, so they moved out here to scrap any plastic, or items they could sell. Their living conditions were appalling. The rain water today became their drinking water. Shacks were patched up and assembled with cardboard and metal sheets. People still smiled, and laughed. It humbled me to the knees that regardless of what material possessions they possessed, or didn’t possess in this case, they still managed to find a simple form of happiness. At first, I couldn’t understand how they could still laugh wholeheartedly despite their conditions. I get it now; they’re not like me. They don’t need to saturate themselves with a superficial form of happiness in which material possessions result in a smile. It humbled me. I’m ashamed to say that I needed to see these families living alongside the trash piles to make me feel grateful for what I have. I am ashamed to be born into privilege and to have every single thing handed to me on a silver platter, because I have done nothing to deserve it. I am blessed because of all the simple things, all the divine food I get to indulge myself in, for my comfortable living conditions, and for all the nights that have turned into days. I am blessed, nonetheless.