I just had an interesting, I guess depressing, talk with Flor (Angel's daughter). I was venting a bit about some of my current frustrations with how things are going here and feeling like I just hadn't figured out how one would ever make a difference in the world for the better, given that there seem to be so many barriers. She usually just listens when I vent and reassures me that there is some good coming from the work I'm doing. But this time she shared her experience with "Los Proyectos". Los proyectos refers to various organizations that independently offer some form of support to the people here. One of the big ones is a program like Christian Children's Fund, advertised on TV (but it's a different organization). It is a $30/mo sponsorship of children between 5 and 15. It provides some school supplies, some medications if needed, shoes, school clothes, a present at Christmas and birthday. It is run by a very "by the book", strict Father here. After seeing how several organizations here seem to work, I was starting to feel that might be the best one to support.
Anyway, Flor told me that she and her siblings were always "apadrinado", or supported through this organization. Their families got $12/mo and that did help them considerably with school fees and other basic needs. But, when it came time to take the yearly picture that gets sent to their sponsor, they were told not to wear nice clothes (if they arrived with earrings, they had to take them out). They were then asked to stand in front of a decrepit house that wasn't theirs and were asked to hold things they hadn't been given, like baskets of fruit or a toy. She also said that her sponsor changed quite a lot growing up (I guess because people tire of sponsoring a child after a year or so) and she would often suddenly go unsponsored. When that happened, she did continue to receive some basic support but not at the level she had previously had (no more Christmas and birthday presents, etc). Perhaps that's understandable as the funding source stopped but I think the organization should have a reserve to keep that from happening. I imagine it's hard on a kid in a town where almost all kids are sponsored, to be one who doesn't get the Chrismas or birthday present. She said it was also embarrassing because they would print and post a public list of unsponsored kids and she didn't like seeing her name there for everyone to see as if sponsors didn't like her.
The kids were asked to write notes to their sponsor parents. She recalls an incident when her cousin, a translator of the notes, got mad at her for lying in her note that she had no shoes and had to sleep on the floor. She says she never wrote this and wonders if someone else inserted it in her note. She also recalls that just before her sponsorship ended, she got a card from her sponsor mom asking about her studies. She went to the organization to respond (sponsored kids aren't given sponsor contact info to write directly) but was told she'd been terminated because of her age so they didn't let her write a final letter to her mom.
I used to sponsor a child in Bangladesh, Neil, through CCF. I think back on his notes and photos and wonder about them now.
My first response was to this talk with Flor was to write off sponsorship programs like this as a way of supporting impoverished people. But then Flor wrapped up by saying, but I did always love exchanging letters with my sponsor mom and that emotional and financial support was really important to us especially while our dad was drinking.
Still looking for where someone can make an impact.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Being Home
I am back in Guatemala and it feels, in a way, like I never left. I fell asleep on the plane and woke up here and it seemede like the visit home was just a dream, a very good one. I am thankful that it turned out that I feel happy to be back. Who knew? I left at an emotionally challenging time and I also left with so many lessons learned, it was hard to be sure that another 6 months was going to be as fruitful as it would be difficult. But, yes, I’m glad I’m back and am feeling optimistic, energetic, and grateful once again for this opportunity.
I thought I would blog at least a few times while home but, wow, the fast pace of home hit right away and sitting at a computer alone seemed like the least good way to use my time. Lots of people have asked me what it was like to be home. It’s almost as hard to explain the mixed emotions of being there as to explain the mixed emotions of being here…one essay doesn’t do it justice.
I’m not sure why but the re-entry was easier for me than I expected and much easier, actually, than when I came back after my first visit in April and my second stint in July. Those times, I felt kind-of sick to my stomach staying in the Marriott (and also a little crazy happy about the showers, bed, and TV) on my way out and then seeing all the abundance and luxury of Palo Alto and hearing even the people I like most talk about spending and indulgence without recognition of the injustice (just like I know I often did…and surely will do again, too many times).
This time, I was so ready for a break that I savored every moment, every experience like a piece of sashimi (am I the only one who wonders, after swallowing delicious raw fish, if I really tasted it and the hint of wasabi as much as I could have before sending it on it’s way?). Lying in bed without worrying if spiders were there with me, showering without turning off the water or worrying about the cost of the hot water, using conditioner, driving a car, going through 5 emails in less than an hour, wearing jeans that shrunk back to the right size in the dryer, watching nature programs on TV, walking barefoot, carpet, milk -- I don’t think any of these experiences were lost on me. Nor were things like sitting in traffic BUT getting to listen to good news on NPR or being charged too much for coffee BUT realizing it wouldn’t affect my budget or having too many patients to see in urgent care BUT getting to feel I could evaluate them well. I remembered, I think, to be thankful even for all the hassles because they were only there because of the luxuries I have in life. That sounds cliché or frosted but it is 100% true.
The other really cool thing about being home was the conversations I had with so many people trying to make sense of questions that have come up for me here and that have come up for them in their minds as they try to find their own way to making the world a better place. It’s not straightforward for anyone to figure out the best way to make a difference and just talking it out: talking about solidarity, charity, goodwill, justice, service, priorities was so stimulating. I felt inspired by how many people it seemed had been doing new things to try to change the world or had been soul-searching for the “right” way, in a global rather than a personal sense.
The hardest thing for me was trying not to have the new understandings I developed bring me and others down. One priest told me a couple of months ago, “this experience with ruin your life”. He actually meant it in a good way, sort of. Ruin doesn’t sound good. But his point was that if we are living in this world feeling comfortable with how we are behaving as world citizens, feeling thankful for our “blessings” (but acting entitled to them), then we are blind. We should feel sick to our stomachs on a daily basis, angry routinely at the suffering in the world, indignant, desirous of minimizing our indulgence, willing to truly sacrifice (truly sacrifice) to share wealth that we only have because of “luck” (and often injustice), not wealth that we have because God thought it would be best if we were rich and others poor and that we kept it to ourselves because He so loved us (and not so much them). Anyway, that anger and indignation, and sacrifice can keep you from sailing smoothly through life; it can ruin your plans for a nice house on a scenic plot of land, a Landcruiser, a fashionable wardrobe. Or at least ruin your oblivious comfort with having those things. (And, I have to comment here that while I can write all this, I’m scared to death I can’t act on it like I should…I’m afraid I will still indulge myself through life as I always have). So the hard thing was having all this in my head, so fresh, so real, any not letting it leak out over other people. So many times I caught myself in the midst of what had been a fun, light conversation over beer and good music, interjecting this heavy material. If I keep doing that I 1) won’t have any friends 2) I will end up a hypocrite … talking the talk but not walking the walk and more people will end up rejecting this dogma than embracing it: the gag reflex. I always learned most from those who acted their beliefs and avoided talking about them. I think that walking the walk and not talking the talk will need to be a July resolution (yes, I do have to indulge myself with the “talk” for now because I’ve got this blog to keep up!).
I thought I would blog at least a few times while home but, wow, the fast pace of home hit right away and sitting at a computer alone seemed like the least good way to use my time. Lots of people have asked me what it was like to be home. It’s almost as hard to explain the mixed emotions of being there as to explain the mixed emotions of being here…one essay doesn’t do it justice.
I’m not sure why but the re-entry was easier for me than I expected and much easier, actually, than when I came back after my first visit in April and my second stint in July. Those times, I felt kind-of sick to my stomach staying in the Marriott (and also a little crazy happy about the showers, bed, and TV) on my way out and then seeing all the abundance and luxury of Palo Alto and hearing even the people I like most talk about spending and indulgence without recognition of the injustice (just like I know I often did…and surely will do again, too many times).
This time, I was so ready for a break that I savored every moment, every experience like a piece of sashimi (am I the only one who wonders, after swallowing delicious raw fish, if I really tasted it and the hint of wasabi as much as I could have before sending it on it’s way?). Lying in bed without worrying if spiders were there with me, showering without turning off the water or worrying about the cost of the hot water, using conditioner, driving a car, going through 5 emails in less than an hour, wearing jeans that shrunk back to the right size in the dryer, watching nature programs on TV, walking barefoot, carpet, milk -- I don’t think any of these experiences were lost on me. Nor were things like sitting in traffic BUT getting to listen to good news on NPR or being charged too much for coffee BUT realizing it wouldn’t affect my budget or having too many patients to see in urgent care BUT getting to feel I could evaluate them well. I remembered, I think, to be thankful even for all the hassles because they were only there because of the luxuries I have in life. That sounds cliché or frosted but it is 100% true.
The other really cool thing about being home was the conversations I had with so many people trying to make sense of questions that have come up for me here and that have come up for them in their minds as they try to find their own way to making the world a better place. It’s not straightforward for anyone to figure out the best way to make a difference and just talking it out: talking about solidarity, charity, goodwill, justice, service, priorities was so stimulating. I felt inspired by how many people it seemed had been doing new things to try to change the world or had been soul-searching for the “right” way, in a global rather than a personal sense.
The hardest thing for me was trying not to have the new understandings I developed bring me and others down. One priest told me a couple of months ago, “this experience with ruin your life”. He actually meant it in a good way, sort of. Ruin doesn’t sound good. But his point was that if we are living in this world feeling comfortable with how we are behaving as world citizens, feeling thankful for our “blessings” (but acting entitled to them), then we are blind. We should feel sick to our stomachs on a daily basis, angry routinely at the suffering in the world, indignant, desirous of minimizing our indulgence, willing to truly sacrifice (truly sacrifice) to share wealth that we only have because of “luck” (and often injustice), not wealth that we have because God thought it would be best if we were rich and others poor and that we kept it to ourselves because He so loved us (and not so much them). Anyway, that anger and indignation, and sacrifice can keep you from sailing smoothly through life; it can ruin your plans for a nice house on a scenic plot of land, a Landcruiser, a fashionable wardrobe. Or at least ruin your oblivious comfort with having those things. (And, I have to comment here that while I can write all this, I’m scared to death I can’t act on it like I should…I’m afraid I will still indulge myself through life as I always have). So the hard thing was having all this in my head, so fresh, so real, any not letting it leak out over other people. So many times I caught myself in the midst of what had been a fun, light conversation over beer and good music, interjecting this heavy material. If I keep doing that I 1) won’t have any friends 2) I will end up a hypocrite … talking the talk but not walking the walk and more people will end up rejecting this dogma than embracing it: the gag reflex. I always learned most from those who acted their beliefs and avoided talking about them. I think that walking the walk and not talking the talk will need to be a July resolution (yes, I do have to indulge myself with the “talk” for now because I’ve got this blog to keep up!).
Now, some pictures of my new neice, Harper Claire. Born December 27, 2007.
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