Second Visit to Parque Espana

Today I returned with Martha to Espana Square the meeting area for the poor and homeless of Bogota. The day was very similar to last week but there seemed many more homeless than my last visit, where we again broke off into groups of 18 for the morning parable and then the passing out of food.
I was pleased to see George there and that he recognised me alas the week had not been kind to him, although last week he had appeared reasonably dressed and appeared to be reasonably tidy this week he showed the truth of what living on the streets can do to a man, He was unkempt, his semi decent clothing of last week had been replaced this week with torn and poor quality substitutes and he appeared as a much more broken man than last week. This week there was little talk of what he could do or what he wanted to do, rather his speech was slurred, and his attention span seemed as though it was hidden behind a deep fog, possibly the effect of whatever he had taken to numb the life he now leads.
I felt for George, I had hoped to see a positive improvement from last week instead what I saw was deprivation and surrender and it is difficult to deal with.
This week we had 2 more English speakers in the group not as articulate as George but still with a good standard of English.
It is still strange to me that when I go into banks, and shops where no one can speak English (seen as the language of commerce, and where every Kindergarden and Preschool has signs outside saying Intensive English) to finding the poor and destitute of Bogota with a level of English that many a UK City dweller would be proud of.
One man who did not speak English had taken time to speak to me in Spanish I had explained in somewhat embarrassed tones that I only spoke a very little Spanish that I was from Scotland and had only been here for 8 weeks he smiled seeming to understand my broken attempt at speaking his native language and took time at the end to attract Martha's attention to translate for him where he thanked me for coming to his country for taking the time to visit those who were less fortunate and for the help I gave which although many would not say thank you he claimed all were grateful for. I felt quite humbled and was lost for words thanking him for his kind words, but in truth I am doing very little. It is Martha and the Catholic Community of helpers that work with her that turn out every week to provide the barest of essentials that should be getting the praise and not the "Gringo" who cannot speak their language or truly understand their suffering.
Sundays are an interesting day showing such a contrast in life that when I get home I cannot disregard the happenings of the morning and it takes time to come to terms with the feelings and sights of Parque Espana in downtown Bogota.