Three Oranges

by Christopher Harvey (United States of America)

Making a local connection Mexico

This morning I set three oranges on a table outside of our campground. Now there are only two. They were given to me by a woman we stopped to help just a few days ago. We were driving north to Loreto along one of Baja’s many long, isolated roads. Such roads are notorious for their narrow width and the fact they typically don’t have a shoulder. A small once-white pickup truck was leaning off toward the side of the road in it’s best attempt to remain clear of approaching traffic. These roads are also notorious for motorists driving without heed to a speed limit so the scene was ripe for catastrophe. In driving over 40,000 miles these past two years, we have developed a policy of stopping to help anyone in need on the side of the road. It’s dangerous in Mexico, so we’ve been told. But people always need help on the side of the road - even in Mexico. Stopping was thus more reflex than impulse. Realizing I had nowhere to safely park, I turned my emergency flashers on and resolved to work as quickly as possible to help the woman. Fortunately, all she needed was gasoline. And though our truck ran on diesel and I could not siphon from our tank, I did have a few liters of gasoline for my generator in a jerry can. As the last of the fuel drained into her tank, the woman thanked me, gripping my arm with both hands and asking me how much for the gasoline. It would cost an exorbitant $1.25 per liter 40 miles down the road. Nada, I told her with a smile. I could sense she was processing my response. Then she let go of my arm, climbed into the bed of her truck and returned with two head of cabbage, a bundle of green onions and three oranges. \ I told her no thanks, the gas was free. But she insisted that I take this gift from her and she followed me back to our truck with the fruits and vegetables in hand. We have decided to live full-time on the road with the purpose to bless others wherever we can. But in doing so, we have learned that giving, in itself, is relational. We form bonds, albeit momentarily, with other human beings in the giving and receiving. Thus we have learned to accept the generosity of others, even when they have so little to give... especially when they have so little to give. We have since used the green onions. And I gave the cabbage to the kind woman who manages the RV Park where we are staying. But I had forgotten about the three oranges which I had left in our truck. Recognizing that many poor people have stopped to dine at this table outside of our campground, I thought I would leave these oranges for someone who might need them more than I. This morning a man walked by, poorly dressed and holding a plastic bag of miscellaneous things. I had seen him before, sorting through the trash bin in the alley behind us. He stopped at the table and looked at the oranges. Without debate or scanning to see if they belonged to someone, the man took one, looked up and mumbled a few words and then carried on down the road to the next trash bin. I sat for a moment thinking about what I saw. He could have passed them by entirely, assuming they belonged to somebody. But he stopped. Or he could have taken all three oranges. Yet he just took one. As I look at these two remaining oranges I can’t help but wonder about the profound moment of which I have been a part. Kindness, no doubt, plays a role. But beyond basic kindness, I sense that if we are to change the world by who we are and what we do to love our neighbors as ourselves then I must first learn to look at life as this man looked at those three oranges: without expectation or greed, expressing gratitude and leaving a little for the bounty of another passing by.