Step Outside
We all know that life is not about money or status, and yet I have to keep reminding myself of that each day I’m here. I am even selfish when staring poverty right in the face, as I do every day on my way to work in the city or when visiting a rural project. How can I continue to be selfish when surrounded by such poverty? Have I become callous? Perhaps it’s because I really have no idea how my contribution is making a difference in the context of such a big problem. It would seem unlikely, even if I were to devote my entire life to doing so, and I might as well go home and get on with things. Or maybe there’s something hidden deep down inside that tells me I’m different. Different from them. I’m different because I come from a rich country. I’ve known only peace, I’ve got a university degree, I regularly bathe, I eat healthy food, I know about science and politics and iPods and blogs. As such, these problems exist outside of my responsibility. I have indemnity: I can choose to help, but I am under no obligation to do so. If ever I get tired of being here I can hop on a plane and be home in 48 hours. Furthermore, I say, Regardless of what actions I take as an individual, the government of my rich country and others like it are giving billions in aid. And yet for whatever reason Africa just can’t get things together. However, when I dig deeper I realize that despite all the media hype of cancelled debts and massive international relief budgets, my rich country and others like it still take far more from Africa today than they claim to be putting in. The raping and pillaging continues unabated, albeit less conspicuously than during the last several centuries. I think it quite possible that my happiness comes at the expense of others’ misery, and I don’t like that thought.
Being honest, I confess that I am a citizen of a rich country who enjoys all the privileges and benefits thereof, who is not ready to give them up, and who will return one day and thoroughly enjoy them. Does it make me more reprehensible than someone who only sees poverty on a World Vision commercial and neglects to act, because I see it with my own eyes and touch it with my own hands and I still remain selfish?
The other day I was visiting a project site in a remote little village in the south of Burundi. As I arrived and the crowds started gathering, I was moved by the emotional pleas of the women, Please help us have clean water; our children are sick. We walked together to where they are currently fetching water: bubbling up out of the mud in the middle of a marshy valley-bottom where they also have their pitiful garden plots to grow their food. It’s no wonder their children are dying from intestinal diseases, or why 45% of children in Burundi are underweight. Or why the average life expectancy is 44 years. Or why Burundians now have 25% less to eat than they did 25 years ago.
Sometimes there are simple projects, but there are rarely simple solutions, especially to the bigger problems the world faces. Let me be daring and suggest a simple project- I propose we become less selfish. I’ll begin at that and leave it entirely open-ended; the specific details are your own and my own. Simple? Yes. Easy? Not in the least. Is it a solution? Perhaps not; however, I guarantee that the results will be astounding for everyone involved. And we’re all involved, either as part of the solution or as part of the problem. If I live in excess, even if I’ve toiled for it with my own hands, I come by it by Grace alone: I was not born a Twa who will never be granted the luxury of owning footwear or attending school. Rather, I was born into a culture whose clever exploitation of others affords me my happiness. It doesn’t leave me too happy though, to remember that when I have, someone else doesn’t. Or worse yet, that maybe it is precisely because I have that someone else doesn’t.
I know I am not going to change Africa, or Burundi for that matter. Yet I also know that it is possible to bring significant change to an entire community with a simple project. And that I can do. The songs and dances and prayers of people who receive assistance remind me that it’s all worth it. It’s so necessary, and it is my responsibility. I must share the happiness and resources that I have. Because I am Christian, and Christ would be with the poor in their squalor. Because I am human, and refuse to forget that others live in misery while I enjoy affluence. Because I am selfish, and long to step outside of myself.
Perhaps there is Salvation for me yet.
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Post-script: An incredibly encouraging group of friends in Ontario led by Mr. Joseph Ferretti just put on a party and raised $1400 to construct a simple clean water source for this community. Their efforts will benefit hundreds of people for decades. Now that’s something to party about!
