Patience of Poverty

I wait for familiar faces to show up.
Materials ready. Everything ready.
There was excitement. Reassurance.
Yes, we will come.
I wait.
We want to learn how.
Make a better life. For our kids.
I still wait.
Do I know how it feels to be poor?
Really poor.Not college poor, but poor when I am not sure if there is food for my family tomorrow or money to get into the city today or hoping I get a decent price for my pig so that I can provide what I need to for those I care for.
I prioritize education, growth, learning - that is how you can get ahead.
But, if I lived in an adobe house with cracks where the rain comes in and I spend all morning cooking lunch or selling vegetables on the street or wake up at 5am to milk cows and wonder why my guinea pigs died - would I go to class in the afternoon?
Maybe. Maybe I would go a little late. Because I had to pick the kids up from school, go to the 3 pharmacies because no one had the medicine I needed and take the crowded combi that doesn't pass close to class...
I am just trying to understand why I am still waiting.
An hour later I see two faces I know.
We start.
Frustration. Anger. Disappointment. Can I let it go so that we can start?
It is not as I imagined, but there is a start.
This is the patience of poverty.