Guilt

Imagine with me, if you will, a certain woman. She moves from one of the richest countries in the world to THE poorest country in the world and makes friends. One of the friends she visits has a husband with a job. This is fortunate, as not everyone in this country can find work. He gets paid about $2 a day (almost double the average income)...that is, when he actually receives his pay. (He is supposed to get paid every 3 months and it was over a month late last payday and is late again this time.) What he receives in a YEAR, if he were to actually receive it, is what the woman used to get paid in a DAY. She no longer makes as much money, but compared to this family, she is wealthy beyond their imagination. She goes to visit her friend one day and the friend's two-year-old daughter starts to cry extremely large, heart-wrenching tears as lunch is being dished out. When asked what was going on, the woman is told that the child would like more than the single, coin-sized piece of meat that she received in her dish. When asked further, the friend shares that they only eat meat once every 3 months or so (at church for special occasions). The only reason they had meat that day was because the woman had called ahead to say that she would buy some bread when she came to visit. So the friend had bought some meat (which she likely could not afford) to put in the sauce that day because the woman had brought some bread.

If you have not yet guessed, this woman is me. The family is Zeinabou's (my language partner). Being a mother, my heart broke and I cried with this little girl as she wanted more meat. I knew that Zeinabou was embarrassed as I gave Aissa my portion of meat, but there was no way I could have swallowed my piece.

The story does not end there.

As I left their hut that day, I had errands to run and things to do. One of the things I had to do was run to the store. I ran in and noticed that they had some of our favourite chocolate bars (they do not always have them) and they were available by the carton. I picked up 2 boxes and got back in the car before it hit me. I did not even blink when I forked out that money to buy those bars. It cost me 2/3 of Husseini's MONTHLY salary. For chocolate bars.

Here's the thing. I was not even sure if I should share this story. Partly because there is no happy ending. No resolution. I also questioned my motives for sharing it. Would it be beneficial? Do people even care?! In the end, what I want to convey are some of the everyday struggles of living here. We are surrounded by such utter poverty and poor living conditions, it is really unfathomable. And then you get here and you live here and it becomes normal. Normal to see kids picking through fields of garbage (I assume for anything salvageable to sell or eat), normal to see threadbare clothes and huts that are falling apart. But it isn't normal! How do you reconcile living in such luxury when your friends wonder where they will get their next meal?!

It is hard.

I know that I can't solve the world's poverty issues. I know that splurging on chocolate is not a ticket straight to hell. But how do I acknowledge the poverty around me without despairing of guilt at my own wealth? I want to do something to help those around us and I want my own thinking to be changed as I wrestle with how to best help.

I got home and hugged my kids. I want them to appreciate all that we have.  To recognize that they are extremely wealthy, but wealthy not for the sake of wealth itself but for the sake of sharing and giving.  I also need to NOT feel guilty about buying the chocolate for our family, but acknowledge that it IS a part of all that we have. We have so much. I also need to remember what spurred on my passion for the poor. Something Rog and I heard at a missions conference:

live simply...so that others may simply live

So like I said. There is no resolution to this problem. Our team here believes in sustainable development. Trying to help the poor to help themselves. Trying to show them that they do indeed have resources and skills that they can use to bring themselves out of poverty.

But, it is hard.

Husseini hard at work. It has been about 44C these last few days. He works in the sun. It is manual labour and it is hard.

Still, I am a doer. I need to act and see tangible results. I decided to bring food every week when I go to visit Zeinabou. I know that this will not solve anything for them (ie. her husband will likely not get paid for another month), but I know that they will have a meal that includes some protein. We will talk while we cook.  I pray that she will know that God loves her and her family. That I love her and am so privileged to know her. Do I do this out of guilt? I believe that is what spurred me on initially, but I know that I also do this because I care and because I am able to. Friends, please look around you. Don't take for granted all that we have, all that we have been given. And consider the possibility that we have been given much so that we can give much.

An example of their living conditions - they live in this one hut, and Z's 9 month old crawls around on this mattress on the floor, which she has just finished peeing on. Yes, those are pillows, which are a luxury. I was offered one once, though I graciously declined. I do sit on this mattress every week though. 

Aissa is NOT happy with her portion of food at first...

...she can't even wait to sit down and eat!!

This week, I bought them sheep/lamb (?!!)...had to take a picture of the butcher. No such thing as wiping down the counter tops here! Not even running water to wash your hands before you put the meat in the plastic bag! I bought some veggies and stuff for sauce in the shack behind the butcher. In total, I spent $3 for meat and sauce ingredients to feed the whole family. Could I buy a Starbucks for $3 these days? 

Aissa was SO happy! She was about to reach in to eat it raw but I was able to stop her.

Like all children...she wanted more. She was done all of the meat in her sauce and looks longingly at the other bowls. I do not want to encourage her to be spoiled, but it is SO HARD not to give her my portion of meat. 

Thank you for joining us in our journey. Thank you for your support. Thank you for your prayers.