*Just a warning that this blog isn’t funny. I’m not falling apart, just struggling with some life issues and keen to share with you, our readers. I’ll follow up with a lighter-hearted one soon :)
Every few weeks I go through a time of noticing my personal wealth and privilege, especially when living in this part of the world. I feeling disturbed by what I deem to be the injustice of me being raised and educated where and how I was, while the girl next door was raised in poverty, fled violence, had no chance to learn about anything other than what she could see, is the mother of 3 kids at 24, illiterate and unemployed, and sees no opportunity for change. Something triggers my thoughts again, I ponder it for a while, maybe discuss it with a friend or two, talk with and read the big man’s words, and then carry on with life, sometimes with a small change in my behaviour. Until the next time my heart lurches and begins grieving again.
Recently, I’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed by it and I reach out here, seeking your support, advice, admonishment, wisdom and whatever comes. We live in a country that is suffering deeply from poverty, oppression, extreme weather, isolation and violence. Living in a major city (without permission to leave the city), I’m mostly protected from seeing the violence and oppression, but like anyone, I see the news, read books, listen to those who travel to other areas and speak with local friends about it.
I’m always challenged by beggars on the streets. Mothers with young babies, or dirty, half-dressed children who look hungry, seem to suck my heart strings right through the window of the car. The man with no legs who crawls onto the 50 degree road to tap on the car door while I’m waiting at an intersection in my air-conditioned car, with my husband and well-fed puppy. I made a decision a long time ago to not give money to beggars, primarily because I don’t believe it offers any lasting aid or improvement, often because I doubt the money would be used for food, and also because many of the beggars (here) are professional and 'managed' by others. I struggle with my decision when I see people who are obviously limited in their capacity, or even incapable of earning an income, especially in a country where there is no form of welfare and so many widows. I try to remember to carry food with me, muesli bars and the like to give, but I only remember some of the time. The rest of the time I smile and say sorry, pretend to not see them, quickly pray for them, tell the kids they should be in bed or at school (you’d be amazed at the 8yo kids who wander intersections at 10am during school days or 10pm at night), knot up inside and feel upset.
This week, I was caught by surprise by Him with a new issue. We have been preparing to go away for a long weekend in Dubai for our wedding anniversary. We decided to offer a small financial gift to some of His staff to stay at our home and care for Rhodes while we are away. After they kindly agreed, He came to me to ask how we could expect them to feed the dog fresh meat three times a day when the couple can likely only afford to eat meat at home, at most, occasionally. I’ve rarely, if ever, cried with grief over poverty or such issues, but this one knocked me off the ground. This couple is employed by us, earning one of the lowest, but still a reasonable salary for locals (horrifyingly low by our standards), but like many people here, struggling to survive, let alone thrive. It's a reasonable diet for dogs where we come from, but how on earth can we justify it here? I don't believe that having a pet is harmful to the millions in poverty….but, what to do, or say?
This dog food drama came on the same day that I had the following comment from a local friend who is a new medical graduate; "I work at a Cardiopulmonary hospital. If someone has a cardiac arrest, we don't try to resuscitate them, they just die. Someone might possibly try a very ineffective, poor technique CPR. The Defibs are usually broken. The likelihood of a cardiac arrest victim surviving is so minimal, of surviving with a quality of life even less, and the family being able to afford ongoing care requirements, next to nothing.” What a place we live. What a world we live in that accepts such inequality, albeit with many attempting to fight and change it. I want to run into that hospital and teach them CPR, pay for the Defibs to be fixed, teach them about rehabilitation, share the love the big man has shown for us and why we should value life etc., but none of that would help the situation, improve or change the fatalistic view of their deity’s will, cause the authorities to provide more money for healthcare. That doesn’t mean I should do nothing. Sure, a little part of me wants to save the world! What if I can save one person? I could perform CPR on someone that consequently leads to his family’s worsening poverty as they are unable to ever pay the medical bills (of course, I could also perform CPR on someone who goes on to do wonderful things with his/her life, but the probability of this happening here is a lot smaller…..but should that affect the decision at all?). I could speak out about the lack of healthcare funding and get ‘asked' to leave the country, drawing Him from his job and the help He is providing for so many. The only thing I’m sure of is that I will keep talking to my friend about bioethical issues as she ‘finds her feet’ as a Dr, with both of us raising points from our own worldview.
I haven’t decided what to do about the dog food (we can buy regular dry dog food here but it’s actually more expensive than the meat we feed him, which to give you an idea, costs about AUD1-1.50 a meal). I know the family caring for Rhodes would never say anything to us about it, but I actually feel sick about it. I have no conclusion to draw. I still have a big knot in my stomach but I don’t want to feel peace about it. I want to do something, I just don’t know what. Whenever I’ve been in that situation in the past, I’ve stopped and spent time with the big man, and that’s what I should do….but I’m even struggling to do that at the moment.
Every few weeks I go through a time of noticing my personal wealth and privilege, especially when living in this part of the world. I feeling disturbed by what I deem to be the injustice of me being raised and educated where and how I was, while the girl next door was raised in poverty, fled violence, had no chance to learn about anything other than what she could see, is the mother of 3 kids at 24, illiterate and unemployed, and sees no opportunity for change. Something triggers my thoughts again, I ponder it for a while, maybe discuss it with a friend or two, talk with and read the big man’s words, and then carry on with life, sometimes with a small change in my behaviour. Until the next time my heart lurches and begins grieving again.
Recently, I’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed by it and I reach out here, seeking your support, advice, admonishment, wisdom and whatever comes. We live in a country that is suffering deeply from poverty, oppression, extreme weather, isolation and violence. Living in a major city (without permission to leave the city), I’m mostly protected from seeing the violence and oppression, but like anyone, I see the news, read books, listen to those who travel to other areas and speak with local friends about it.
I’m always challenged by beggars on the streets. Mothers with young babies, or dirty, half-dressed children who look hungry, seem to suck my heart strings right through the window of the car. The man with no legs who crawls onto the 50 degree road to tap on the car door while I’m waiting at an intersection in my air-conditioned car, with my husband and well-fed puppy. I made a decision a long time ago to not give money to beggars, primarily because I don’t believe it offers any lasting aid or improvement, often because I doubt the money would be used for food, and also because many of the beggars (here) are professional and 'managed' by others. I struggle with my decision when I see people who are obviously limited in their capacity, or even incapable of earning an income, especially in a country where there is no form of welfare and so many widows. I try to remember to carry food with me, muesli bars and the like to give, but I only remember some of the time. The rest of the time I smile and say sorry, pretend to not see them, quickly pray for them, tell the kids they should be in bed or at school (you’d be amazed at the 8yo kids who wander intersections at 10am during school days or 10pm at night), knot up inside and feel upset.
This week, I was caught by surprise by Him with a new issue. We have been preparing to go away for a long weekend in Dubai for our wedding anniversary. We decided to offer a small financial gift to some of His staff to stay at our home and care for Rhodes while we are away. After they kindly agreed, He came to me to ask how we could expect them to feed the dog fresh meat three times a day when the couple can likely only afford to eat meat at home, at most, occasionally. I’ve rarely, if ever, cried with grief over poverty or such issues, but this one knocked me off the ground. This couple is employed by us, earning one of the lowest, but still a reasonable salary for locals (horrifyingly low by our standards), but like many people here, struggling to survive, let alone thrive. It's a reasonable diet for dogs where we come from, but how on earth can we justify it here? I don't believe that having a pet is harmful to the millions in poverty….but, what to do, or say?
This dog food drama came on the same day that I had the following comment from a local friend who is a new medical graduate; "I work at a Cardiopulmonary hospital. If someone has a cardiac arrest, we don't try to resuscitate them, they just die. Someone might possibly try a very ineffective, poor technique CPR. The Defibs are usually broken. The likelihood of a cardiac arrest victim surviving is so minimal, of surviving with a quality of life even less, and the family being able to afford ongoing care requirements, next to nothing.” What a place we live. What a world we live in that accepts such inequality, albeit with many attempting to fight and change it. I want to run into that hospital and teach them CPR, pay for the Defibs to be fixed, teach them about rehabilitation, share the love the big man has shown for us and why we should value life etc., but none of that would help the situation, improve or change the fatalistic view of their deity’s will, cause the authorities to provide more money for healthcare. That doesn’t mean I should do nothing. Sure, a little part of me wants to save the world! What if I can save one person? I could perform CPR on someone that consequently leads to his family’s worsening poverty as they are unable to ever pay the medical bills (of course, I could also perform CPR on someone who goes on to do wonderful things with his/her life, but the probability of this happening here is a lot smaller…..but should that affect the decision at all?). I could speak out about the lack of healthcare funding and get ‘asked' to leave the country, drawing Him from his job and the help He is providing for so many. The only thing I’m sure of is that I will keep talking to my friend about bioethical issues as she ‘finds her feet’ as a Dr, with both of us raising points from our own worldview.
I haven’t decided what to do about the dog food (we can buy regular dry dog food here but it’s actually more expensive than the meat we feed him, which to give you an idea, costs about AUD1-1.50 a meal). I know the family caring for Rhodes would never say anything to us about it, but I actually feel sick about it. I have no conclusion to draw. I still have a big knot in my stomach but I don’t want to feel peace about it. I want to do something, I just don’t know what. Whenever I’ve been in that situation in the past, I’ve stopped and spent time with the big man, and that’s what I should do….but I’m even struggling to do that at the moment.
There are no easy answers to that, are there. It's stark, and hard, and unfair. Will be thinking for you both, and as you would say chatting to the big fella on your behalf. On a practical note, I'd suggest if you do end up asking the family to feed the dog meat, that you also stock the fridge with meat for the family for the time as well.
ReplyDeleteThis is the first time I have seen your blog but I will def be following now.
ReplyDeleteThis is so hard. Hard hard hard. I feel the same heartbreak about beggars. Doing nothing seems so wrong, but is doing something just as harmful?
And the meat issue. I bought extra greens at the market this week (60 Australian cents extra because my greens lady always gives me the up-sell - seriously, she should work at Maccas if it ever comes to our country), gave half of them to our househelp and half to our goat. And then I was like, what must she think?! Not that she was there when I did it, but still.
So no wisdom here, but tons of 'I get this'.