Having just enjoyed a brownie sundae, some star gazing, and stroll past the ruins, I can say that I am feeling satisfied. Now, I have a kitten in my lap, swatting at the hair that's falling out of my cap -- I wonder if he'll ever learn that it's not a toy.
I'm still happy here in Ollanta, but I'd say the honeymoon is over. I've settled into a routine, I'm protective of my quiet weekends, and I'm not reaching out quite as much to new volunteers (sorry, new volunteers), even though we have our strongest group yet (sorry, old volunteers). The challenges of a new job have also mostly leveled out, and it is only in taking on even more posts (I now coordinate volunteers, programs, and tours - not to mention I'm captain of the ship for five weeks while the program director takes an envied vacation in the States) that I find myself occupied enough.
Right now, I'm reading Half the Sky by Nick Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn, which is one of a handful of books out there right now that give heart=wrenching yet inspiring accounts of current human rights issues across the globe. In particular, this book argues - very convincingly - that empowering women needs to be at the forefront of all social, political, health, educational, economic and beyond campaigns, and that the disparaging treatment of women compared to men across the globe - and the lack of attention paid to their oppression - is an inexcusable tragedy.
Half the Sky tells one unbelievable story of rape and sex trafficking and maternal mortality after another. The authors' goal is to empower readers to empower women in oppressed cultures, and they strongly advocate for Americans to get out, volunteer, see the world, and come back changed. They believe it's worth it for readers to spend a couple thousand dollars and a couple months volunteering in the slums of India rather than cut a check and be done with it. If it's within the budget and you have a flexible schedule, I tend to agree. The authors also do a great job of showing readers that even the victims with the grimmest stories can overcome the obstacles and violence that have restrained them their entire lives.
I wish I could say I feel inspired, truly moved by the stories, but I'm one of the millions who feel paralyzed by guilt and the size of the issue. I want to help. I want to move to the Congo and start schools for girls. But I know I can't. Not only does that sound very expensive and far away, but I am one of those people that empathize to the point of uselessness. I would burn out in a week. I would cry everyday. I can't imagine being one of those strong, inspiring foreigners who sees the very physical and emotional pain of a gang-raped 13-year old girl - ostracized by her community and shunned by her family - and has the strength to do something about her situation and the situation of hundreds more like her in her one community, not to mention the rest of her continent.
Who are these incredible people that have that strength? Who fundraise and build schools? Who start health clinics and distribute contraceptives? Who see these crises and commit their lives to fighting injustice at the front lines, rather than behind desks in happy, clean, well-resourced offices in American cities? For goodness sake, I've relocated to Peru, and even though I'm part of an organization that provides economic well-being and sustainability to impoverished women, my life feels more comfortable than ever. Somehow, I feel like I've taken the easy way out, and now the same guilt that I felt living in Chicago, comfortably quilting and knitting, eating out, and watching Glee (with DVR!), is creeping in as I enjoy my brownie sundae and snuggle with my precious kitty.
Yesterday, when I Skyped with my parents, my mom chimed that she expects I'll be in the Sacred Valley for at least a few years, and that I seem to have found my passion. I've thought that at times, too, but lately I'm beginning to wonder if this is enough. And so I feel a bit trapped again. I love Awamaki. I love the work we do. But I am not personally improving anyone's life, and so I somehow feel like I'm not doing enough. But on the other hand, when I think about the emotional fortitude required of being a social worker or and aid worker or even a Chicago Public Schools teacher, I am paralyzed. I don't have what it takes, but I don't feel satisfied with what I’ve got.
Mom wanted to know if I think I need to suffer in order to feel like I'm really doing "good" in the world. I don't think I think that, but maybe I do? I've always felt uneasy about the passage in the Bible where Jesus says to sell all your possessions and follow Him. When I face that scripture head on, there is a deep and true part of me which believes that's really what it will take for me to....to what? I don't even know. To be satisfied? To feel at peace? To know I'm doing the "right thing"? To live a life of obedience? To stop feeling guilty all the time? I'm not convinced that selling all my possessions and serving the poor will solve all my problems, but maybe I believe it will ease my conscience....and, well, I'd like to think I'm living a life that amounts to more than trying to alleviate my guilt. I'd like to live a life where I am part of something that I'm proud of, invested in, and committed to for its intrinsic importance, not the self-serving motivation of a guilty conscience.
Is there anyway to be satisfied in this tug of war? Knowing that I'm a very emotional, at times unstable person, yet wanting to contribute positively and in a long-term way to issues of deep, violent injustice, what can I do? Where is the book that helps the person with above-average interest in human rights, but below-average emotional fortitude? Maybe I'll be able to write it in thirty years. I'll get back to you on that one.
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