January 19th
Two years into this now and it’s hard for me to assess whether what I’ve done, what I’ve tried to do, counterbalances the problems caused by the work I’m doing.
A group of women that originally numbered 55, but swelled to 100 in my initial absence. Each with extraordinary needs that can never be met. Each with emotional baggage that can never be dismissed. Each living within the larger community that equally needs my help (any help, really). And each who thinks I can solve all of their problems and financial woes.
Children whispering to me that their caregiver (mother, father, aunt, grandfather …) wants to see me - just more requests for help I cannot give. Thrusted into my hands, sealed envelopes with letters:
Dear Karen,
Through this letter am kindly requesting you to assist me. Sponsor the daughter of my late brother who died in the northern insurgency. So did both parents …
More requests for assistance I can’t possibly give. Women ushering me into their homes, pleading with me for the opportunity to join the already impossibly large group of “members” I’m trying to support. Some women simply opening large bags filled with paper beads, begging me to take them with me and bring the money back on my next visit.
So many people, everyday, pulling at me, pleading for my assistance. Some outright angered by my inability to help, my standard line, “There are so many people, too many people, who need help. I am just one person, I can’t help everyone.” Angerly they reply, “But why can’t you help ME? Why can’t you just allow one more member in your group?” One more, two more, 100 more. Do they not hear the pleas that are murmured into my ear even in my sleep.
They see my white skin. They see the money I’ve brought into the community. They do not see the work that goes into raising that money. They are blind to the rising requests of their neighbors. Or perhaps, not blind to it, just pleading their own case, thinking for a multitude of reasons that I should be able to help them, if no one else.
Others are less demanding. They just want the opportunity to talk to me, to tell me their problems. One elderly man, crippled and caring for his orphaned granddaughter explains how he is now the sole provider for her and can’t pay her school fees. He implores me to help. I have no money left. I’m unable to do anything. I tell him so. Then I finish with, “I’m sorry.” How many times a day do I say ‘I’m sorry’ to the pleading faces and soundless voices of the Quarter? The elderly man doesn’t seem to mind. “At least I’ve told you my problems. Now I feel better. I know you will remember and maybe next year you can help.”
I leave his home to be ushered into another home with a similar request. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.”
And in all this, in trying to help, I face the magnitude of difficulties which come from both trying to lead a large, sprawling group and being a mzungu, a foreigner who will never be capable of administering all the polite social intricacies which are vital to them. A mass of people, entrenched in poverty, limited futures and wretched pasts, offer each other, and all outsiders, curtsies with warm, inviting handshakes. Gestures of gentility and politeness that don’t exist in my world. No matter how hard I try, I will never be able to duplicate their polite ways. I will always be the foreigner, the mzungu, that bemuses them, dispensing the lackluster, useless, notion of hope.
February 9th, 2008 at 4:37 pm
wow, karen. tough stuff. you have already helped so many and yes, you can’t save everyone, but at least 100 women are now better off thanks to all of your efforts. they’ve had opportunities that they may never have had thanks to you.
it’s really interesting to hear about some of the down sides. with the long standing dependency on the west, it makes me wonder about a viable and sustainable solution.
March 21st, 2008 at 1:16 pm
Karen, I can’t possibly imagine the struggles that you go through while trying to provide help and hope to an entire village in Uganda. As Karen wrote above, you have already helped so many. Reading about your struggles, I think this is why others don’t also reach out and visit such beautiful yet impoverished communities themselves–because it just seems too hard, too much, too impossible for just one person. And this is true. One person cannot do it all.
Luckily, your efforts do not simply provide help and hope, they also provide motivation. You have motivated myself and countless others, I’m sure, to be more involved in their communities (whether local or abroad) by giving of themselves. Though you cannot see or hear the voices of those you affect by doing your work, I hope this reminder will supersede at least some of the requests that awaken you from sleep.
June 17th, 2008 at 3:28 pm
Every new day is another chance to show yourself how strong you truly are. You are but a humble servant who’s strength knows no bounds. Keep your head up!