I had a lovely morning at the village. Lots of kids, chatting, de-stringing pumpkin leaves, chatting, de-kernalling maize, eating together, chatting :)
I had driven to the village cos my bike had 2 flat tyres that I couldn't be bothered fixing given the heat. I left to come home a bit after 12 and one of my friends caught a lift to take some of the food we had just prepared into the District hospital where her friend had been with her sick baby all week.
A kilometer down the road we came across a strange sight. 3 men pushing a bicycle with a cane chair strapped to the small rack on the back with 2 women following behind loaded with provisions. It took me a moment to see the woman slumped in the chair and realise this was an ambulance. I pulled over. Was she alive or dead? I tend to stop functioning around dead bodies and the RAV isn't exactly a great hearce substitute. At least the canopied ute's and Troop carrier (utilised here for friends funerals) have a bit of space between the body and the driver... I was already out of the car, greeting the ladies, opening all the doors and moving stuff out the way. The woman was alive- but very out of it. Malaria? I asked. yes. They all squished in. I closed all the doors, cranked the airconditioner and drove swiftly, breathing a quite prayer of thanks. She had a chance at survival now. They were 11 km from the hospital. It was 30degrees in the shade. If the woman hadn't died of cerebral malaria on the way there she probably would have died from dehydration.
10 min later we pulled up at the hospital. The front entrance was a puddle with bricks for stepping stones thanks to the heavy rains the last few days. We walked in and helped ourselves to a wheel chair into which the woman was unceremoniously manouvered, her feet still in the car. They pulled the chair back and I lunged to catch her legs. Too late. Thud onto the ground. She grimmaced with pain. No 'deluxe model' foot rests here. My last sight of her was slumped in the wheel chair being pushed through the puddle with one of the ladies walking awkwardly in front carrying her legs. It was de-humanising. I felt insulted at the system.
I parked the car and my friend and I continued on our original mission- visiting a sick baby. We quickly found the room, waded through the ladies and found a patch of floor to sit on. We then greeted everyone in the room and the chatter resumed while I held the sick baby who seemed to be on the mend. The crowdedness shocked me. There were about 2o women in the room and 10 babies - (mostly prems) that I could spot. The facilities were 3 steel cots, 2 bedside tables and 2 plastic covered matressess on the floor. The room was the size of a bedroom. I quietly asked my friend whether all these women slept here? 'no' she responded- just the ones with babies- the rest sleep in the kitchen. Again I felt insulted at the system.
In some ways, living here has really desensetised me to some aspects of poverty. It's a coping mechanism. But some days I just get incensed. A little kid that lives near the farm died this week from malnutrition - lack of protein. Her little body swelled up horribly.
I T 'S N O T R I G H T !!!!!
There is something terribly wrong when one third of the world live in almost obscene wealth, thinking it's our right?! Demanding not just the necessities of life, but comfort and entertainment and a new car or another tv
Meanwhile ....meanwhile the rest fight for survival. And fight they do.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
African Money Issues
Recently some of us whities have been having chats about money. You see- being the hungry season and all, the number of people we don't know knocking on the gate hoping for some assistance and the frequency of people we do know asking for 'loans' has significantly increased...and it's frustrating feeling like an ATM.
So the questions of how do I respond? and who am I obligated to? and for how much? are all pretty pertinent at the moment.
I decided one day to bring up the topic with my friend Mama J and the farm manager on the way to work. They both have incomes and are also on the giving end of the social security system here. How do they respond? Well, they give to their families, relatives and if someone is really in need. I asked how they ascertained 'real need' and they answered that you look to see whether they are able to work, or find out if they have parents who can help them and if not- then you help.
Mama J said that even though she doesn't give materially to everyone- she always recieves people and at least listens to their story even if she can't help. She reminded us of the part in the Bible where at the final judgement Jesus welcomes the righteous and says:
'Come, you who have the blessing of my Father, into the kingdom made ready for you before the world was:
For I was in need of food, and you gave it to me:
I was in need of drink, and you gave it to me:
was wandering, and you took me in;
I had no clothing, and you gave it to me:
when I was ill, or in prison, you came to me.
and the righteous respond and say 'Lord, when did we see you in need of food, and give it to you? or in need of drink, and give it to you? And when did we see you wandering, and take you in? or without clothing, and give it to you? And when did we see you ill, or in prison, and come to you?'
And Jesus answers them ' Truly I say to you, Because you did it to the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'
Well, feeling very encouraged, with all the answers worked out, we pulled up at the farm, got out of the car and were greeted by a lady mumbling insitantly about my chitenje (cloth wrap). I only had the one I was wearing with me and I wasn't about to give it to her. She had burn scars all down one side of her face and was wearing a 'national disibilities day' chitenje herself. Then she started saying something about money. We all recoiled. The others told her in no uncertain terms to go away and I left them to it...well, actually I only got about 3 steps before my hipocrisy slapped me in the face and made me turn around. I said to the others- 'stop! this is our test- are we really going to send her away with nothing AND treat her with disrespect?!'
Someone said something about her always asking for things and never being satisfied. Meanwhile she was getting quite agitated and talking loudly and incomprehensibly. The workers were jeering at her. The other two stood silently. I prayed.
'What about we offer her some work? she can come and harvest beans with us, then I'll pay her.' The farm manager offered an emphatic 'No', and that was the end of my ideas, so I suggested we start work (sending off the workers), said a respectful goodbye and followed them. Fail
A few minutes later she showed up again and quietly started harvesting beans with us. We all worked together. She seemed to enjoy the company. After an hour or so the farm manager finally greeted her and asked her name. Then she started talking with Mama J and said she wasn't working for money. She wanted to say thank you to her friend (pointing at me) who had given her the chitenje at the Natioanl Disibilities Day held a few months earlier in the area. A colleague of mine had organised it all and this lady had got us mixed up (apparently all whities look the same). I suddenly felt really bad aboout the whole misunderstanding at the car. I said that I would pass on her thanks to my colleague but that I was a different white person who worked on this farm. She looked really bewildered so I introduced my self.
When the harvesting was finished she said good bye and I paid her a small amount and she left. 'Now your friend will come back looking for you every day' the farm manger said reproachfully. 'That's ok' I thought. I pray that she left not only with a little cash, but also the gift of acceptance.
You know what I realise more and more every day here? My 'true colours' are ugly. Giving freely, sticking up for and identifying with the poor, the disabled, the needy, the dirty, the hungry and desperate- are not my instinctive reactions. Theoreticising it and walking away is my first instinct. Love feels un-natural. Just as the pharisees asked Jesus 'who is my neighbour?' I see that often the reason I ask questions about who to give to isn't so I can be more generous- but rather less generous. These 'African money issues' are actually MY money issues.
So the questions of how do I respond? and who am I obligated to? and for how much? are all pretty pertinent at the moment.
I decided one day to bring up the topic with my friend Mama J and the farm manager on the way to work. They both have incomes and are also on the giving end of the social security system here. How do they respond? Well, they give to their families, relatives and if someone is really in need. I asked how they ascertained 'real need' and they answered that you look to see whether they are able to work, or find out if they have parents who can help them and if not- then you help.
Mama J said that even though she doesn't give materially to everyone- she always recieves people and at least listens to their story even if she can't help. She reminded us of the part in the Bible where at the final judgement Jesus welcomes the righteous and says:
'Come, you who have the blessing of my Father, into the kingdom made ready for you before the world was:
For I was in need of food, and you gave it to me:
I was in need of drink, and you gave it to me:
was wandering, and you took me in;
I had no clothing, and you gave it to me:
when I was ill, or in prison, you came to me.
and the righteous respond and say 'Lord, when did we see you in need of food, and give it to you? or in need of drink, and give it to you? And when did we see you wandering, and take you in? or without clothing, and give it to you? And when did we see you ill, or in prison, and come to you?'
And Jesus answers them ' Truly I say to you, Because you did it to the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'
Well, feeling very encouraged, with all the answers worked out, we pulled up at the farm, got out of the car and were greeted by a lady mumbling insitantly about my chitenje (cloth wrap). I only had the one I was wearing with me and I wasn't about to give it to her. She had burn scars all down one side of her face and was wearing a 'national disibilities day' chitenje herself. Then she started saying something about money. We all recoiled. The others told her in no uncertain terms to go away and I left them to it...well, actually I only got about 3 steps before my hipocrisy slapped me in the face and made me turn around. I said to the others- 'stop! this is our test- are we really going to send her away with nothing AND treat her with disrespect?!'
Someone said something about her always asking for things and never being satisfied. Meanwhile she was getting quite agitated and talking loudly and incomprehensibly. The workers were jeering at her. The other two stood silently. I prayed.
'What about we offer her some work? she can come and harvest beans with us, then I'll pay her.' The farm manager offered an emphatic 'No', and that was the end of my ideas, so I suggested we start work (sending off the workers), said a respectful goodbye and followed them. Fail
A few minutes later she showed up again and quietly started harvesting beans with us. We all worked together. She seemed to enjoy the company. After an hour or so the farm manager finally greeted her and asked her name. Then she started talking with Mama J and said she wasn't working for money. She wanted to say thank you to her friend (pointing at me) who had given her the chitenje at the Natioanl Disibilities Day held a few months earlier in the area. A colleague of mine had organised it all and this lady had got us mixed up (apparently all whities look the same). I suddenly felt really bad aboout the whole misunderstanding at the car. I said that I would pass on her thanks to my colleague but that I was a different white person who worked on this farm. She looked really bewildered so I introduced my self.
When the harvesting was finished she said good bye and I paid her a small amount and she left. 'Now your friend will come back looking for you every day' the farm manger said reproachfully. 'That's ok' I thought. I pray that she left not only with a little cash, but also the gift of acceptance.
You know what I realise more and more every day here? My 'true colours' are ugly. Giving freely, sticking up for and identifying with the poor, the disabled, the needy, the dirty, the hungry and desperate- are not my instinctive reactions. Theoreticising it and walking away is my first instinct. Love feels un-natural. Just as the pharisees asked Jesus 'who is my neighbour?' I see that often the reason I ask questions about who to give to isn't so I can be more generous- but rather less generous. These 'African money issues' are actually MY money issues.
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