"There's a definition of a word and it states that, um, a word is composed of two parts: and that's reflection and action. So that means if one part is sacrificed then the other suffers as well. So I'm sure to tell the students in my writing classes, that, um, we must be mindful of the words that flow from our mouths. And we should also be concerned about how they come out. You know, we talk about things like compassion...."
Compassion.
I think I've talked about compassion until I was blue in the face, but I didn't even understand what the word meant. Naturally, humans see themselves as compassionate because, honestly, who wants to say they're not (?) but often times what we're really talking about is kindness. Compassion and kindness are not the same thing. I didn't understand. Kindness is to pull those who are down up to where you are. Compassion is the shifting of one's inner bowels to tremble with the mourning of others. Compassion is being down and staying down to bring all up. Ugh. That is different.
Tons of people in Kigali are built just like me, facial structure similar. Wasn't the problem invisibility on your practicum? Didn't you want to be seen? Didn't you want to remember that you were somebody? Yeah, it definitely was hard for this little girl from nowhere, California, studying in nowhere, Indiana, with a skin color setting her back from birth, trying become to my family's dream. A somebody seen. But moreover, my problem was that I was trying to live my life for myself. Practicum was debilitating because no one was clapping for me.
It's simply amazing how insiduous pride is.
I wanted development and poverty to become names for myself, to validate my existence, and be known for what I did to alleviate it. It would be sweet if I was the next black Shane Claiborne female. (laughs) But I didn't know that trying to make my life as exciting and interesting as possible was killing my compassion in a field where this should be non-negotiable. I was wearing skills of research and education about social problems that I didn't even have on my shoulders. I couldn't feel for anyone else because I was spending too much of my time trying to be special.
This is what practicum taught me: I don't know anything. I thought I did but I don't. I don't have very much capability. I thought I did but I don't. Development and poverty are very very very hard. Joy for ones work and helping to alleviate poverty does not come from seeing results. People work their whole lives for the smallest difference, long after relatives have stopped liking what they do or praise their efforts. Often times, people stay just as sad, poor, sick, and miserable even after all our attempts. So is it worth it? Is development worth it? It is if you're not trying to be acclaimed. It is if something more than youthful idealism drives you. Youth is fleeting. It is if you believe something bigger will complete it. Gratitude pushes much more than title.
I no longer want to do this because I think I'll be someone or that I'll move mountains (uh. that's stupid) but because I want to thank God for the compassion she's shown to me by asking for some of hers. She can move far more mountains. I want to make sure I keep moving from comfort and the tempting ordinariness of "proper life", not to surround myself with misery or being creepily masochistic, but because I believe God is there waiting to show me what He means by all this existence business and pushing me to feel this way. Nowhere is somewhere. Voluntary displacement helps me remember that I don't have it all together and that in community of poverty, I experience our true condition. Messed up. And that's giving up that job, that title, that applause, that rat race for something better. Right, hidden and compassionate. Not interesting.
"As long as our primary concern in life is to be interesting and thus worthy of special attention, compassion cannot manifest itself. Therefore, the movement of compassion always starts by gaining distance from the world that wants to make us objects of interest." -Henri Nouwen.
If I become small, I can feel a pain of a population that I couldn't before. I'm beginning to know who I am. I have a face that matters: broke backs of field workers and silent victims of past, present and future.
I love being in Rwanda. I look like everyone else.
Tie your children to your backs.
