(no subject)
This semester, I'm taking a Health Science Selective called 'Advanced Leadership in Community Service,' in which we are reading Mountains Beyond Mountains, a book that is mostly about Paul Farmer's work in Haiti. One of our class members posted an article on the discussion board that really floored me. Mentally add this picture to the ones seen on yesterday's link from VIctor Kubik's page: Haitians so poor, they are literally eating dirt. The entire country subsides on $2.25/day per capita.
I'm suddenly furious. How could we have let things get to the point where people are eating dirt to survive?! I know, I know that people are starving in sub-Saharan Africa and all over the world, as a matter of fact. But somehow, today, this just hit home. I'm provoked to think about who I am as an American, as a person. This is something I've struggled with a since coming back from Honduras. God says that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom. I am filthy rich compared to more than three-quarters of the world. Should I sell my furniture and donate the money? Should I start donating some of my loan money to charities? Should I just start living more frugally? Should I just be thankful to be American? Somehow, the last option doesn't seem like what I'm supposed to be doing, as an ambassador.
I'm left with a pervading uneasy feeling that I am forgetting what it is like in the third world, or worse yet, that I have no clue what it is really like. One month in Honduras does not make me an expert on world conditions. But every day, I flush toilet paper, use water from a faucet, take hot showers, eat balanced meals, sleep on clean sheets in carpeted rooms in temperature controlled dwellings. And every time I do one of these things, I forget a little more of what I know is the status quo in the rest of the world.
I'm suddenly furious. How could we have let things get to the point where people are eating dirt to survive?! I know, I know that people are starving in sub-Saharan Africa and all over the world, as a matter of fact. But somehow, today, this just hit home. I'm provoked to think about who I am as an American, as a person. This is something I've struggled with a since coming back from Honduras. God says that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom. I am filthy rich compared to more than three-quarters of the world. Should I sell my furniture and donate the money? Should I start donating some of my loan money to charities? Should I just start living more frugally? Should I just be thankful to be American? Somehow, the last option doesn't seem like what I'm supposed to be doing, as an ambassador.
I'm left with a pervading uneasy feeling that I am forgetting what it is like in the third world, or worse yet, that I have no clue what it is really like. One month in Honduras does not make me an expert on world conditions. But every day, I flush toilet paper, use water from a faucet, take hot showers, eat balanced meals, sleep on clean sheets in carpeted rooms in temperature controlled dwellings. And every time I do one of these things, I forget a little more of what I know is the status quo in the rest of the world.