I’m starting this blog on the flight from Bahrain to
Frankfurt. By the time I post it, I will probably be back in the States. The
last two weeks went by so quickly!
Monday afternoon, we were split into teams (a team consisted
of two Americans + a Nepali staff member to interpret) and sent on a “true
treasure hunt.” Each team was given four hours and a little over 8,000 rupees
($100). Our mission was to use this
money for the most possible good among those who most needed it. The task sounded
daunting from the onset, but I had no idea just how difficult it would prove to
be.
Setting out from the office, we decided to start by walking
towards Monkey Temple. Pretty soon, we stumbled across an elderly couple; their
belongings were spread out across a concrete slab that maybe once functioned as
a bus stop. Through our interpreter, we learned that they had moved to
Kathmandu from a surrounding village to seek work. Their children were working
in Bangladesh, and the husband collected glass bottles to recycle for 100
rupees (a little over $1) a day. The
wife was a beggar.
As we sat with them on the concrete floor, flies swarming, I
felt utterly overwhelmed. Chelsea had been leading the conversation (I couldn’t
think clearly enough to ask questions), and she suggested that we get them
fruit. Seeing how their current food supply consisted of some fried bread in a
bug infested cardboard box, I agreed and we set out. We bought some fruit,
water bottles, and a plastic container with a lid to store food in.
As we rejoined them, the temporary nature of our gift was
apparent. The fruit would last them a couple of days, but they really needed
shelter and a way to pay for their needs. Defining the problem, however, is
much easier than solving it.
We both knew that it was pointless for us to try to rent
them a place to stay. Even if we found someone who was willing to rent to
someone who didn’t have a steady income, this couple wouldn’t be able to pay
the next month’s rent. In a few weeks, they would be back in the same
situation. We thought about leaving them the money, but money is such a
temporary fix. Besides, the street boys nightly raided their belongings, and
money would make them more of a target for violence.
Short on ideas, we headed back to the office to do some
research. We tried to look up homeless
shelters in Kathmandu, but everything that we found seemed to be for
children. At this point, I remember
Chelsea asking me for input. Not only was I lacking ideas, however, I was so
overwhelmed that I couldn’t even communicate what I was feeling. Finally, after
pulling out paper and pen and listing our assets and ideas, we decided to head
to the hospital.
I figured that if the hospital here were anything like an
American hospital, there would be a resource desk where someone might be able
to give us some information on local resources and shelters. Of course, I was
making one hugely erroneous assumption. The Nepalese government-run hospital
that we visited was nothing like an
American hospital. The more we asked around, the more evident it became that we
not going to find the information we sought.
Eventually, we found our way to the emergency room (you
could walk in any room in the hospital; there was no security or sign in) where
we were greeted by a horrible stench. On
a cot, maybe one foot off the floor laid a partially dressed man who was
covered in sores. This man’s condition was one of the most horrible things I
‘ve seen in my life. On the other side of a half-wall lay another man in similar
condition, though this second man seemed more conscious. Unlike the rest of the
patients in the emergency room, these to men had no family by their side.
Chelsea and I approached a couple of the doctors and asked
them about these men’s situations. We
were told that these men were suffering from malnutrition (who knows what else)
and that they were probably going to die. When we asked if they could be
treated, the doctor indicated that they probably could. Until they were
admitted to the hospital, however, they would not be supplied with food. Even
once (if) they were admitted, they wouldn’t have anyone to feed them or
administer medicine. In Nepal, family members, not nurses, do that work. Also, because they did not have a family,
they were low priority for admittance.
A man who the nurses called an “unofficial social worker”
was hanging near their beds. This man seemed to be caring for some of the
patients, but the nurses warned us to give him money because he would use it to
get drunk. Once again, the situation
seemed overwhelming.
We bought the men some mango juice and snacks, but these
were obviously an insufficient solution. We asked the nurses if there was any
way we could leave money for food and medicine (the hospital didn’t charge for
care), but we were told that we would have to form an organization to do
that. If we waited a few hours for the
men to be diagnosed, we could buy them medicine. By this time however, we were
almost out time (we were leaving Nepal the next day). We left the remaining
fruit and mango juice with the “unofficial social worker” (hopefully, he didn’t
resell it), and trekked back to the office.
On the way to the office, Chelsea and the interpreter asked
me if I was okay. I didn’t know how to answer them; I’ve never felt so helpless
in my life. There were two men lying there dying while I had a hundred dollars
in pocket, but I couldn’t figure out how to help them. That walk back to the
office was the most miserable half an hour of my life.
When we returned, I pulled out a notebook and tried to
process everything. Here’s a copy of my
thoughts/ resolution:
What’s Going Through My Head 8/20/12
I feel overwhelmed, and that feeling frustrates me because I
know that you can’t do anything when you feel paralyzed.
I feel like I should be more competent. That man was dying,
and I had $100 in pocket, but I did not know what to do.
I’m afraid that if I do not figure out how to do something
helpful, I will turn a blind eye and ignore the problem.
I feel smothered. I can’t even process aloud.
I feel like the man in the parable who buried his talent
instead of investing it. I feel like I should do something, but I do not know
what to do.
I’m a problem solver. I know how to list my assets, define
my problem, set goals, and achieve success. I’m educated, so while panic may
seize me momentarily, I am not usually overwhelmed. Here, however, I feel like
I do not know enough to help people. I do not know what to do.
All I know is to pray.
This experience is humbling and educational, but that
doesn’t change that their experience is that they are homeless, sick, and
dying.
And Yet
And yet, I do not think our afternoon was wasted. A smile or a bag of m&m’s can change my
week. Maybe, just the fact that we took
the time to talk with them and show them that we cared makes a difference.
Maybe that shows them the love of Jesus.
We did visit the sick, give the thirsty something to drink
and the hungry something to eat. We did show people that they mattered.
I cannot fix every problem or show every person in the world
love, but I am commanded to visit the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the poor,
and speak up for the destitute. I have to be intentional about obeying this
command. I also need to remember, however, that God has given me specific
gifts, experiences, and circumstances, which He expects me to use to love the
people that He brings into my life. This
service is not passive, but it is based on what God has given me and where He
has put me.
I do not want to be ruled by fear.
I do not need to be ashamed of my weakness. I am human, but
God is God.
Money really doesn’t fix everything.
People are broken, systems are broken, and all the money in
the world can’t fix that.
So, what can I do to live a life of love? I can start by
refusing to let this world’s overwhelming brokenness paralyze or desensitize
me.
This picture was taken at children's home that is being built in Pokhara, Nepal. I can't wait to see what it will look like when it's finished! 