True Treasure

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.