Where's the Line?

Today I feel the need to write a little bit about the internal battle that has been raging since even before I came to Malawi. Malawi has only intensified it. To not write about this would be to conceal something that I deal with everyday.

The battle is about wealth, poverty, and entitlement. For years in Canada, I felt a restlessness attached to my elite status as a North American. I wanted to sponsor an African child since I was 6 years old. I yearned for simpler living. I longed to share what I had with others.

It took a while for me to feel, however, that I was financially stable enough to start sharing the wealth I have. After all, most of the past years I have just hovered above the poverty line, being a student, living on a third of the salary of a typical, established Canadian a couple years into their career.

Then fast-forward to last Saturday afternoon. I was sitting outside in the shade with Mr. and Mrs. Sumani. Mr. Sumani is a security guard that guards the property I am currently living on. Each Saturday, Mrs. Sumani walks an hour to bring him lunch. Last Saturday it was nsima (corn porridge) with no relish (usually a sauce with cabbage, or if they're lucky, some kind of meat). Nsima is plain horrible, to my opinion, without relish. It's dry, and doesn't taste like anything. It's like tofu - just takes on the flavour of whatever you eat it with. That's what makes it good.

Anyways, a batique seller came to the gate. Batiques are like paintings, but made of a special material that they dip in different dyes to produce a nice picture or landscape. They are a bit more expensive than an average painting. He was selling the batiques at a good price - 1,000 kwacha each. That's about $7.50. I bought two for gifts, put them inside the house, and then continued my nice chat with the Sumanis. A few minutes later, Mrs. Sumani asked me how much I paid. It was an honest, non-malicious question. I didn't feel I could escape answering it directly, so I told her. If I had blinked, I might have missed it - a shadow crossed her face. As fast as it came, it was gone, but it is etched in my memory. I can imagine the thought that might have accompanied it - "2,000 kwacha for decorations? That is half of a minimum-wage monthly salary." I felt like a traitor or an impostor.

This short story is only one example of how this inner battle has intensified since I got here. So many thoughts run through my mind. First is that even on my meager salary of $340/month, I live like a queen. $340/month is roughly twice the GDP of Malawi, meaning the per capita earnings of Malawians in a year. But food is not cheap here. I went to Blantyre on Wednesday with my boss and his boss who were going on EI business. Food is cheaper in Blantyre. The food prices were pretty similar to what we pay in Canada. I really have to watch my money to be pay Canadian prices with $340/month. So that begs the question: How on earth do people survive on 4,000 kwacha a month?

Then there is the running water and the electricity. Sure, one might think it's been quite an adjustment. I have to boil and filter all my drinking water. I spent 3 1/2 hours with only candlelight last night because the power was out. I can't take a shower in my house because there isn't enough hot water, so I bathe some nights in under an inch of water. There is no heat in the house. It sounds like a nightmare, but already I have acclimatised. It isn't so bad. In fact, I am so fortunate. My neighbours cannot afford to buy candles. When the sun goes down, they are confined to the darkness inside their house, with no windows to keep their body heat inside. Violet walks back and forth from the borehole with a bucket of water on her head. She has probably never even had a hot bath in her entire life - mother of 8.

For us, having running water and electricity is just...normal. But as I have adjusted to life here, I am realizing that for two thirds of the world's population, it's not. That's the majority.

I once heard a sermon about giving. The Bible tells us that when we give, we should give generously. The pastor had two glasses of water with him on stage. One was enormous, like a stein of beer. The other one was a shot glass. He poured out twice the volume of the shot glass of water from the large glass. Then he poured 80% from the shot glass. Even though the volume from the shot glass was so small, he explained, it was the latter, rather than the former, which was a display of generosity. That image has stay in my mind for many years. I have tried to live by it ever since. We should not simply give out of our excess. True generosity means foregoing something yourself. It means sacrifice. And not to the point of ill-health - we aren't meant to waste away ourselves. But it's about equality - not eating meat twice a day when your brother has none at all. It demands a change in lifestyle.

I thought I had understood that before coming to Malawi, but what living here has done is challenge my view of excess. Yes, I give so that I cannot afford to buy music CDs and movies at my whim. I must plan for those purchases. But is that simply the excess to my excess? What is excess? What is need? What am I "entitled to" - anything that my African neighbours are not? The Bible says that the poor will always be with us, yet we need to open our hands freely. Freely - to what extent is that?