A Bug’s Life

Yesterday, Max and I were riding the bus back to La Ceiba, when I noticed a bug stuck between the two panes of glass of our school bus window. It was a beautiful bug, about an inch long, with hues of green, blue and yellow. Since I was sitting on the window side, it was really close to my shoulder and I could see how it desperately struggled to free itself. Max and I stared at it for a while, admiring its beauty; none of us had ever seen anything like it. We wondered how it got there and commented how difficult it’ll be to climb up the glass to be free; perhaps even impossible.

After a while of staring and ignoring the bug, I started feeling guilty for not doing anything to help it. Its desperation to get out was making me anxious. I would ignore it, but it was so close to me I could see it on my peripheral vision; ignoring was not an option. I wondered what could I do for about 3 seconds and concluded that if I put the window up there wouldn’t be a double pane anymore and the bug could fly free. But these are really old buses and the windows are usually so difficult to close. I just didn’t feel like standing up and making the effort, so I asked Max if he would do it. He looked at it, but it was too difficult to do with me on the way, we would both have to stand up, exchange seats and close the window. Too much work to help a bug and, without a word, we both agreed it was best to ignore it.

But the bug kept desperately trying, its quick movements in my plain view. I couldn’t take it any longer, something needed to be done or it would drive me insane. I started pulling the window up (without standing up, of course, I didn’t feel like it). When Max noticed what I was doing he added his hands to help, and between the two of us we gathered enough strength to pull the window up, the bug, now holding on to the glass with all its mighty strength, was being pulled up with it… up … up … up … until the edges of the two glasses met and the bug got crushed with the rubber strips that kept water from getting into the bus.

Max and I looked at each other, perplexed. If only we’d realized that the rubber wouldn’t allow the bug to fly out that way. Perhaps it would have been better to let the bug find its own way out; perhaps he would have given up trying to get out, eaten the dead spider next to him and lived the rest of his life (perhaps another day?) happy with his current circumstances. At least the bug wasn’t bugging me anymore.

Thinking about this bug latter reminded us of development/foreign aid. Those of us that grow up in wealthy countries are attracted to the developing world the same way Max and I were attracted to that bug. We enjoy the beautiful hues of green, blue and yellow of their mountains and their sky, we like to raft their rivers, and photograph their people. When we see the struggle in these places we try to ignore it, it seems too difficult to change anything, or we just don’t feel like it. But when the problems get so annoying to us that action is imperative, we send our foreign aid organizations. With perhaps the best intentions hundreds, if not thousands, of organizations flood the country, look at their problems for the equivalent of three seconds and come up with what they think it’s the best solution. The results… we see them here in Honduras everyday. The bug was crushed after all. But at least our consciences feel better.