Day Forty

NEW to ONE LOONEY IDEA, read below. Otherwise start at the picture. 

In 2006, we began a relationship with Ethiopia that we cannot turn our backs on.  

We don’t really want to turn away, but life became undeniably more DIFFICULT after our first, and consecutive trips. Members of our family were in Ethiopia in ‘06, ’07, ’08, ’09, and ’13. In Ethiopia, the majority of people build a life with less than a dollar a day. A dollar a day does not provide basic necessities. Roughly 39% of Ethiopians live below poverty (<$1.25 USD)—that is over 28 million people. The population of Canada is just over 35 million. 

The world is not equitable. 

***

We all have challenges. At this point in my life I am living with abundance. It doesn’t feel good to continue to accrue treasures when so many live with scarcity. I want to choose something different.

From January 15^th, 2015 – January 14^th, 2016, I am going to spend ONLY a dollar a day (average) for discretionary items.

I will put one loonie into my purse each day. Every time that I want to make a purchase, I will stop and think. I am becoming a thoughtful and responsible consumer, one day at a time—for a lifetime.

You can support me by pledging a dollar a day for any part of my 365 day challenge. The money will go to Canadian Humanitarian, who we have worked with extensively over the past nine years. —Just check out my Pledge Page on the left side bar. 

Betam amisegnalo. 

***

46 WEEKS left to Support Wendy in her One Looney Idea! 

The View From Here

We arrived at a community “clinic” in Sheshemene, Ethiopia. The day was still and warm. We heaved supplies and bags over our shoulders, and walked through the ditch and into the compound. The open gates welcomed us. In the large grassy yard, an old and gnarled Warka tree provided the only shade. Our large group dropped supplies and gathered on the large veranda at the main building. We scouted the area to figure out where and how we would set up. Scattered across the property, smaller buildings served as extra examining rooms for the clinic that would start later in the day. Five doctors, five interpreters, two nurses, and a pharmacist made up the medical team; the rest of us filled the roles of intake, photographer, runners, and doctors assistants. I worked with Ward during this clinic. Our exam room, a small office with a desk, a chair, and a sewing machine table, had one window, which provided our only source of light. We pulled the desk and the sewing table together and covered them with a flowered vinyl table cloth to make a “bed”. I set up our supplies on the chair: tongue depressors, gloves, Ward’s otoscope, alcohol wipes, disinfectant cloths, and hand sanitizer. I put a chair outside for waiting patients. 

The patients arrived, escorted by one of the runners: Yohannes or Laurèn. Faven helped with intake, taking photos of the children in the program. Each patient held a sheet of paper with name, age, height, heart rate, blood pressure, and a list of complaints: tired, headaches, short of breath, stomach ache, itchy, and GI problems. Ward, along with the interpreter, discovered the main concern, and then performed a physical exam, and determined treatment. Some patients required further tests—not always available; others needed medicines, some of which we had in our pharmacy; and for others, we had nothing to offer outside of kindness and empathy. Yohannes or Laurèn appeared periodically at the window, asking if we needed anything. Ward would hand them the prescription and they would run across the grounds to the pharmacy, the prescription would be filled, and they would deliver it back to us. If the patient needed further tests, I would escort them out to the Director of the program, and he would arrange it, if it were possible.

Part way through the afternoon, someone dropped off a large plastic bag filled with eyeglasses. Individuals identified with vision problems soon arrived and lined up for an eye assessment. Suddenly, I transformed into an eye glasses expert. My lack of qualifications did not deter me in the least. None of the glasses were marked or labeled. I briefly looked through each pair to determine which one’s were for reading or distance, and which one’s I couldn’t see a darn thing through—I separated them into three piles. And then, without the aid of an interpreter, or vision charts, I determined whether the patient had difficulty seeing close up or far away. We did this outside, so that it wouldn’t interfere with the clinics. It looked like a game of charades, and attracted a lot of attention. Soon the “runners” came to assist me, and a group of bored citizens came to guffaw. Here is how it went. After a round of charades, I determined their need: near or far-sighted. Yohannes or Laurèn would pass him or her a pair of glasses from the appropriate pile. For far-sighted subjects, I held Ward’s pocket book on infectious disease for them to look at through the glasses. We kept changing glasses until the person let out a WHOOP of excitement. And believe me, they WHOOPED, and laughed, and carried on once we got it right. Because our station looked to be so much fun, almost everyone came over pointing to the glasses and to their eyes. We had the unhappy job of turning most of them away. 

The man in the middle, is the handsome doctor that I assisted, at these clinics! 

Here I am with a woman of many ailments. I took her to get set up for further testing. 

***

This week, the kids and I had our eyes checked. Three of us need glasses—two new prescriptions, and one alteration. We have known for years of Faven’s vision problems. But after going to the trouble of seeing an Opthalmologist at the Children’s Hospital, and ordering state-of-the-art, fashionable glasses, Faven refused to wear them. She has compensated for her vision problems her whole life, and didn’t see the point of marring her good looks with glasses, thank you very much. Eventually, I stopped taking her for eye check ups, even when she complained to me about headaches or problems seeing. I don’t know why I included her this week with our regular Optometrist. But, I did. 

As Faven performed the vision test, I sat in a chair beside her, looking at the progressively shrinking lines of letters, and saying them in my head. Faven moaned, she said “Umm” repeatedly, but she did not say a single letter. Dr. N asked me to come to the front and look at Faven, “See how hard she is trying to see,” he said. I watched. She screwed up her whole face, tilted her head, and squinted to try and see what was shining on the wall ten feet in front of her. “Holy cow,” I said, “she is really working.” A sudden realization donned on me: she can’t see. I had a flash of worst-mom-ever thoughts. After the testing, Dr. N created a pair of glasses for Faven by inserting multiple lenses into special multi-slot frames. He asked her to put them on, and stay still. She put the heavy round glasses on. She WHOOPED. She started pointing out things in the room to me that she could now see. It was as if she thought we both saw the world through the same lens, and I saw the objects for the first time too. Worst-mom-ever. Dr. N, who is usually very serious and composed, smiled loud. 

We live in a place where eye testing is a regular part of our lives. Not only do we have access to diagnoses, we can afford the treatment for most, if not all of our ailments. What a blessing. I am so thankful. Faven got her new glasses two days later, and her view drastically changed. She is phenomenally excited, and now we have trouble convincing her to take them off for sports. I don’t know why it is different than it was years ago. Perhaps her eyes have deteriorated. Worst-mom-ever.

One difficult aspect to parenting Faven is her resistance to being helped. Anywhere, anytime, by anybody. She not only refuses help, she sabotages good relationships that might be helpful. Including me. Of course, this happens subconsciously, for reasons that will never be fully understood. “Help” is a trigger word. 

I feel pleased that Faven has made a choice to wear these new glasses, and see. I suspect that it will make school easier. However, life is so much more than our vision, or hearing. Perspective can’t be measured in a lab, but it is a key to human happiness. 

No prescriptive lens can change what the eye will see when the brain remains blind, and the heart is covered in darkness.  

***

All three kids had "drops" put into their eyes, so we left the eye doctor with these cool shades. "Their future's so bright...they gotta wear shades!"

My GOAL through the year is to have FIFTY people pledge $1.00/day (365 days) to Canadian Humanitarian, while following me as I spend $1.00/day for discretionary items. 
So far, TEN people have committed their support. 

One Month

 Welcome to ONE LOONEY IDEA, If you are new read below, otherwise scroll down past the first picture.

In 2006, we began a relationship with Ethiopia that we cannot turn our backs on. 

We don’t really want to turn away, but life became undeniably more DIFFICULT after our first, and consecutive trips. Members of our family were in Ethiopia in ‘06, ’07, ’08, ’09, and ’13. In Ethiopia, the majority of people build a life with less than a dollar a day. A dollar a day does not provide basic necessities. Roughly 39% of Ethiopians live below poverty (<$1.25 USD)—that is over 28 million people. The population of Canada is just over 35 million. 

The world is not equitable. 

We all have challenges. At this point in my life I am living with abundance. It doesn’t feel good to continue to accrue treasures when so many live with scarcity. I want to create something different.
From January 15^th, 2015 – January 14^th, 2016, I am going to spend ONLY a dollar a day (average) for discretionary items.

I will put one loonie into my purse each day. Every time that I want to make a purchase, I will stop and think. I am becoming a thoughtful and responsible consumer, one day at a time—for a lifetime.
You can support me by pledging a dollar a day for any part of my 365-day challenge. The money will go to Canadian Humanitarian, who we have worked with extensively over the past nine years. —Just check out my Pledge Page on the left side bar. 
Betam amisegnalo. 

***

Here I am, age four, with my sister Tobi.

The Purchasing of Convenience 

A month has passed since I started my “ One Looney Idea”. You must be curious to know how it is truly going. 

A “cold turkey” change to any habit is not the easiest path to choose. But, for some things, it is the best approach. 

I have had two transgressions this past month. The first, a glass of wine while I was writing. Wine and writing go together sometimes like sunshine and walking. One feels better…easier, with the other. 

The second, stayed within the loonie budget, but occurred unexpectedly. Yohannes had a soccer game. We arrived at the soccer centre, and he went to change. Prior to our departure, Yohannes, preoccupied by a friend that was over, ignored my prompt to get ready for soccer. I went to the car, to load the balls and equipment bag—I am the coach—and he gathered a handful of items and scrambled into the van barefoot, his arms laden with socks, shin pads, shoes, and a water bottle. I looked at the disordered mess, and said, “Where is your soccer bag?” He looked down at his stuff, “Don’t need it,” he answered, confident. 

A minute after entering the change room, Yohannes came out. 

“Mom, I only have one sock,” he said. 

“Maybe you dropped it in the van,” I said, “Go and check.” He went. 

“No, it’s not in the van.”

“Well, you’re not going to be able to play with only one sock. You have to have your shin pads covered.”

“Mu-um! What am I going to do?”

We checked with all of the other kids—no extra sock. I felt conflicted. As a mother, I recognized this was one of those rare “natural consequences” moments. No sock. No play. Next time, get ready when mom asks. But, as the coach, I wanted Yohannes on the field, not only because he is a strong player, but because he thrives on the pitch. I counted my loonies. There were eight—during my week at the cottage I did not spend any. Yohannes watched me count. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m going over to the soccer store in the main building to get you some socks,” I said. 

“No, Mom, you can’t use your loonies!”

I laid my hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay buddy, this is my choice.”

“I’ll pay you back mom.”

***

When my kids were small, I carried everything that we needed with us. Every time. Every day. However, when Faven joined our family in the fall of 2009, I found myself quickly overwhelmed, and the balls I so proficiently juggled in my pre-Faven stage of parenting, thumped to the floor and rolled away. We would find ourselves out of the house for hours at a time without any snacks. I beat myself up over my incompetency, and compensated by purchasing snacks on the go. It filled the kids stomachs, and at the same time soothed the sores created by my internal critic. The daily spending grew right alongside my kids. We became entrenched in this new habit, and “convenience” became an invisible budgetary item that I felt horrible about.

 When the illusion of resources is a fingertip away, it becomes easy to tap into it, especially when life is busy, one is tired, or one hasn’t planned very well.  My husband Ward used to say (to his older kids),  “Lack of planning on your part, does not constitute an emergency on my part”.  

The loonie-a-day philosophy provides the kids and I with a new modus operandi. It feels fresh, and the challenge is exciting. There is no longer an “ask” after every sporting event, after school, or when we are running errands. No gum. No juice. No muffin or cookie. No Starbucks. In fact, we avoid stores altogether. It feels good. 

***

I am not alone; Canadians have some peculiar spending habits. According to Stats Canada, the household debt load has been steadily increasing over the last two decades. One might think that this is because the cost of living has gone up. True, but it is not the main factor.  Having children is directly correlated with debt; no surprises there. But, here are two facts that are counter-intuitive: 1) higher income levels directly correlate with higher debt loads; and 2) individuals that claim they are “very knowledgeable” about financial matters have more debt than those who say they are “not very knowledgeable.” The myth goes like this:  IF ONLY I made more money, I wouldn’t owe so much. 

If a child makes a snowball, and sets it in motion at the top of a snow-covered hill, it will be gargantuan when it reaches the bottom. There will be no way to carry it. Moreover, if you run in front of the growing snow boulder, eventually it will overtake you. You could be crushed—or trapped—under it’s weight. Why don’t we stop the snowball at a manageable size? 

Day Twenty-Four

Tobi (4), Grama Great, Troy (1), and me (3)

My sister Tobi and me.

The Pursuit of Joy

When I was in Ethiopia in 2008 with Canadian Humanitarian, we visited a rock quarry in what was once a picturesque valley. The quarry, situated on the outskirts of Addis Ababa, was grey, and dusty. Just beyond the edges of the cavernous gully, sprung evergreen trees flanking a lazy brown creek. Across the creek a donkey grazed on lanky grasses in a large pasture. 

Years earlier, residents in an inner city Addis Ababa slum awoke to the sound of raised voices, and the whirr of bulldozers coming to life. The area where they lived, would be demolished to make way for commercial construction. Buses waited in the periphery to relocate hundreds of men, women and children to their new homes, thirty minutes south. No warning. No voice.  

Once settled, many women began work in the rock quarry. Most had children; some parented alone, because their husbands refused to get on the bus, and were left behind. Women laboured ten hours a day, six or seven days a week. Men carved basalt out of the hillside with chisels and picks; the women carried the rocks down a worn foot path, over their heads, to the breaking station; they passed the heavy rocks overhead to one another, creating a human conveyor-belt; and they loaded wheelbarrows with smaller rocks or gravel, and pushed them over to the waiting trucks. 

The procession was ceaseless.

They dressed in layers of clothing and wore large straw hats to protect them from the sun. Most had a cloth tied around their mouth and nose to limit the exposure to fine dust and dark smoke. Their honey-brown skin turned muddy grey. 

They earned a dollar a day; barely enough to support their families. 

Canadian Humanitarian came to Kality in 2006 to support a local group providing kindergarten education to the young children. 

***

 Joy is fundamental to healthy living. I’m not sure where those women find joy in their lives. It is hard to imagine. 

A few years ago, I participated in a book study with fellow moms, led by an astute psychologist. The book, The Gifts of Imperfection, was a life-changer for me. According to author/researcher Brené Brown, “In our developed world, we have forgotten the basics of Joy”. 

Hope, faith and love are byproducts of joy. But according to Brown, joy is intricately linked to gratitude. You cannot simply cultivate joy, and find that it blooms on its own. Further, Brown says, gratitude is not an attitude: “An attitude is an orientation or way of thinking and […] doesn’t always translate to a behaviour.” 

The difficulty I have, is looking at gratitude, joy and happiness in environments of abundance versus scarcity. During each trip to Ethiopia I came into contact with more grateful individuals than not. Hope was a bubble that managed to stay afloat, despite the circumstances. And yet, compared to me, they had so little. 

There is something about living in an abundant community that leads one down the mis-aligned path of wanting more. Gretchen Rubin examined gratitude, in “The Happiness Project”. She found that, “Gratitude brings freedom from envy, because when you’re grateful for what you have, you’re not consumed with wanting something different or something more.” That sounds like joy to me.

I have much to be grateful for, but there are times when I find the abundant nature of my living to be a burden. Just like the procession of women in the quarry, I feel like I am on a conveyor belt and have little choice. But, that’s not true. Is it? Women all over the world carry sizeable rocks. However, some of the stones are of our own choosing, and we are free to set them down. Not everyone experiences this freedom; it is a gift, and I want to be thankful for it. 

“One Looney Idea” has limited my access to joy in some areas of my life. For example: there is no home decorating going on; I have (mostly) chosen to say no to dining out; I choose not to purchase and consume wine, and I decided not to play drop-in soccer—for the moment. However, because of my one-loonie-a-day spending, I can step out of the privileged life I lead, press pause, think of others, and be intentional. The question I keep asking myself and my kids is: 

Is this something we need or want? 

It reminds me that when you have less, you approach your daily living in a different way. The eye stops wandering toward things that are not accessible. 

The women that I observed in the rock quarry likely felt tired, and occasionally sad. But I know they did not feel sorry for themselves. 

The hopeful attitudes I witnessed in Ethiopia inspire me. I’ve learned that happiness and joy are not the same thing. In Gifts, Brown says, “Happiness is attached to external situations and events and seems to ebb and flow as those circumstances come and go. Joy seems to be constantly tethered to our hearts by spirit and gratitude.” This is why people in impoverished countries appear happy, they are grateful, and therefore have a joyful heart. That is what we see, in them.