Earn This...

I went to church today with my roommate, Angel. Going to church here is always an experience, especially when you are the only white person there and are accustomed to the one hour, ritual-dependent Catholic services. Angel’s church consists of 3 hours of singing and dancing; the best singing and dancing I’ve ever experienced. Although I often have trouble agreeing with the sermon (i.e. A few weeks ago the pastor preached about how real men are not meant to do “women’s” work, such as cooking and caring for children. Real Men are meant for something better. I have many issues with this message, but won’t get into it now), I am always humbled and inspired by the joy, celebration, and strong sense of community. In addition, I am always very warmly welcomed and have even been told that when we reach the gates of Heaven, people of all nations and all races will be together as they should be, so it is good that I join in their celebrations and that people of different races mix as they should here on earth.

But my reason for talking about church is not to tell you about what happened in church, but rather what happened after church. As Angel and I were waiting for our bus, a Jehovah’s Witness approached us and asked “why do you think the world is so wicked?” I replied that perhaps it is just her perspective that the world is wicked. One could also say that the world is filled with love and the overcoming of obstacles, just as easily as one could say that it is filled with hate and misery. For example, when I visit my home stay family in the township, I never see misery or unhappiness there, but rather always feel surrounded by love and joy, regardless of how little money the families in the community have or how many hardships they have faced in their lives. Well my Jehovah’s Witness friend disagreed, using the example of the problems of rape and disease in SA as evidence of the overwhelming evil. She then told us that Satan has control of the world because we are all sinners, or something along those lines. After giving us this uplifting message and some literature, she walked over to her BMW and drove away, most likely directly past all of the slums filled with “rape and disease,” and to her posh white suburb.

Ok, stick with me on this one because I’m going to tie all of this rambling together at the end but here’s another little story first. A couple of weeks ago my friend Briana who is working with the Peace Corps in Namibia visited me here in Durban with a few of her fellow volunteers. We spent a very fun week together, visiting all of the Durban highlights and spending a couple of days on the Wild Coast (my favorite place in SA, about 2 hours south of Durban). While on the Wild Coast, a couple of us rode horses on the beach, a personal dream of mine. Granted they made us wear helmets and the guides insisted on keeping our horses on leashes, so it wasn’t the picture I had of my hair blowing in the wind as my horse gallops down the beach, but it was still a great experience. But somewhere along our walk, I saw a woman standing in the shallow water collecting something, perhaps some sort of shellfish. I was struck by this clash of cultures and of realities. Whereas for me the beach is a place of relaxation and fun, for others it is a source of livelihood and a place of work. Whereas I had just paid about $12 to ride a horse for 40 minutes, this woman was probably struggling to feed her family and would gladly have put that money to use in the form of school fees or clothing for her kids. But hey, I have a right to use my money however I see fit, right? I have a right to be sitting up on this horse while she digs through the muck for her dinner, right?

Whenever I go out to a bar on the weekends, I walk by beggars on the street, asking for money to feed their children. As a rule, I don’t believe in giving money to beggars because I reason that even if I gave away all of the money I have, it wouldn’t even scratch the surface of the problems of poverty and homelessness. And after all, they’ll probably just use it on alcohol anyway. So instead I walk by the beggars, and into the bar to buy some beer for myself. And as with the horse riding, I rationalize it, telling myself that I deserve the break or I deserve to have fun and take advantage of every opportunity while I’m in South Africa.

As I was writing this blog update, I listened to the song “Dear Mr. President” by Pink. It doesn’t paint a very good picture of the current US administration, but regardless of how you feel about the president, it has a powerful message for all of us. It goes a little like this: “What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street? Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep? What do you feel when you look in the mirror? Are you proud? How do you sleep while the rest of us cry? How do you dream while a mother has no chance to say goodbye? How do you walk with your head held high? Can you even look me in the eye?” While I think these are indeed very good questions to ask anyone in a position of political power, I think often we must also turn these questions on ourselves.

So here’s the point of all of these disjointed anecdotes: rather than seeing injustice and blaming the powers that be, perhaps it is time to turn the finger of blame around on myself. In the last eight months, I have realized just what it means to be an American, and a financially secure, middle-class, educated, white American on top of that. It is easy to blame God or the Devil for the evil and injustice that exist in our world, and then return to my own personal security and comfort. It is easy to ride a horse by a woman digging in the muck, assuring myself that I deserved this little vacation and that I’ve worked hard for the opportunity to be here and the money that got me here. It is easy to blame the president for failed policies that cause havoc both domestically and internationally, to ask him how he can sleep soundly at night, but to not question the impacts of my own actions. But the thing is, the easy answers that comfort us are not always the right answers. As an American, all I have to do is flash my passport or my MasterCard and I can pretty much get whatever I want. As an American with an education, I can travel the world and see and do whatever I dream of. But with this comes a huge burden of responsibility.

I haven’t seen the movie Saving Private Ryan for some years, but I remember a scene at the end where a dying Tom Hanks tells Matt Damon to “earn this.” For those who haven’t seen the movie, I think something like 4 soldiers are killed in a mission to save one soldier, played by Matt Damon. And the soldier is told to earn the lives that were lost on his behalf, to somehow make his life worthy of their sacrifices. There are great injustices in this world, and I’m not saying that I or any other privileged person is directly to blame for the suffering and misfortune of others. But I am saying that perhaps it is time to turn the finger of blame on ourselves and ask not who is responsible, but rather what am I doing to make it better, to create a more just and loving world. In all statistical probability, one is more likely to be born an impoverished African than a privileged American, and for some reason I was born a privileged American who has been blessed with a loving family, a good education, and a wealth of opportunity. I’m sure that many of you who are reading this blog were also born into similar situations, for which we should be grateful. But sometimes gratitude isn’t enough. We must earn this.