As low as the ground

My head was spinning, the air was quite warm yet the bus drive was a good one. I was sitting next to my good friend  and we were having our daily bus conversation. We usually talk about anything that comes to mind...classes, homework, boys, friends, the community etc.

I saw from the window to my left 2 men sitting on the dirt floor and a women on her dirty foldable chair. They were wearing work clothes, boots, bandanas, and hats. I automatically felt a rage cover me like a blanket.

One of the men was kneeling while he munched on his food after a hard day of labor, the other man sat on the dirt floor, and the women on her foldable chair. They all ate their food and talked on the dirt floor, outside, while the dirt wind was hitting their faces and their food. There were no faucets with clean water around, no chairs, no benches, no sanitation, no rights...

The dirt was their support. They seemed so low on the floor as I looked down at them. They were tired. They cannot complain. They speak and deported they will be. Stripped from their human rights in broad daylight what joy it is...To see your own people eating on the dirt fields, to see the injustice and the oppression....to see them as low as the ground goes.