ONE LOONEY IDEA
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.
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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 15th, 2015 – January 14th, 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.
***
“Mind the Gap” first appeared in 1969 on the London Underground as a warning to passengers to be careful while crossing the gap between the train door and the station platform. It has since been used in popular media: books, movies, advertising, and video games, to refer to the gap in generations, classes, social science and politics to name a few. Recently, while reading “Daring Greatly”, a book I am studying with a group of women and a psychologist, I came upon this phrase. According to author Brené Brown, “Minding the Gap” is a way to remind ourselves to “pay attention to the space between where we’re standing and where we want to be.”
We are people of values, surrounded by cultural values and other people’s values. Each of us has membership in several cultures: family, work, church, clubs, sports, and so on. Tuning into our own values while respecting the values of others is tricky business. It is a bit like a minefield. When the values we practice are no longer in line with the values we aspire to, there is a gap, and disengagement results. According to Brené Brown, “disengagement is the issue underlying the majority of problems in families, schools, communities, and organizations.”
The economic class where I live has cultural tenets that I have embraced without thought. With my loonie challenge, I am making changes to the practices I have accepted. It is virtually impossible, because the gap between where I stand—privileged—and where I want to be—intentional—is too big to leap over. But, I am still going to train.
Spending a loonie a day goes against values that my community aspires (or ascribes) to. There are those who are uncomfortable with my idea to spend less, and so the gap between us has widened. My personal values no longer mesh with community values. Disengagement becomes a viable option.
The old adage, “Beat ‘em or join ‘em” doesn’t work here because the personal cost of living with misaligned values is too high.
I am not directly asking anyone to change their lives. This is my journey, and I have my reasons. I have even stopped expecting my immediate family members to embrace this loonie idea. They are all back to doing and getting what they want.
Am I disappointed? Maybe a little bit.
But, I can only look at my own value gap, and shorten the distance between the values I am practicing, and the values I am striving toward. And in so doing this thing, one loonie at a time, a bridge will be built, forever connecting me with my inner compass, if I should get lost again.
Ethiopia, 2006
We pulled away from the guesthouse, rounded the first corner and stopped at Bole Street. Three, or four lanes of traffic chaotically assembled on each side of an imaginary divide, not exhibiting any sense of order. Locals walked haltingly through the maze, avoiding predator-like vehicles. The sound of horns blared for the right-of-way, and the smell of gasoline poisoned the air.
Our driver paused, and I glanced out the window. A small boy with brown, honey-tinged curls ran toward the van. “Ferenge, ferenge,” he cried out. I did not yet know this word, but I knew he referred to us. He cupped his hands into the shape of a bowl, and held them out. He wore only a t-shirt; scrawny legs stuck out like popsicle sticks. Behind him, propped against a concrete wall, sat a woman wrapped in lengths of fabric. A baby slept across her lap; its head hung over her leg as if on a broken hinge; its rib cage rose and fell with a stilted rhythm. The mother caught my eye, and she reached her hand toward me.
I looked away.
We pulled into traffic. Our driver moved through the milieu like a practiced chess player. Each time the van stopped, hands, leathered and dusty-grey, reached through the window to touch and implore me to help. One sold tissues, another gum, but most were reaching in hoping to fill their hands with aluminum or copper coins, bread to sustain them for another day. I saw young children, mothers carrying babies in slings, and others that had physical disabilities: blind, missing a limb, or unable to walk at all, scuttling across the asphalt like insects. “Please missus”.
I closed my window.
The greatest gift of experience is knowledge.
What one does with the knowing is the pivotal moment.
Not knowing is no longer an option.
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