Step 1: Realize; Step 2: React; Step 3: Encourage change

Confession: today, I spent a small chunk of my life flipping through photos of the recent wedding of Vivek Oberoi. I blame both boredom and curiosity, an undeniable love of Bollywood, the draw of Indian culture, and the distracting yet engrossing powers of the internet.

While flipping through the abundance of Khans, Kumars, and Kapoors, I gave nods of admiration to the artistry of various saris (recalling having once worn one myself, truth be told - please ignore that awkwardness that is my shirt; we were testing it out pre-occasion) and half-jokingly decided that I wanted to be a wealthy Indian, if only for the sake of indulging in such things and, of course, an abundance of samosas, naan, and aloo parathas. The thought was a fleeting one, not simply because I lack the utter materialism such a desire would require, but more upon consideration of one of the worst moments in my time spent in Ghana last summer.


Being that the capital of Accra overlooks the Equator from its seat on the coast, Ghana lacks seasons beyond "wet" and "noticeably less wet"... well, ok, "rainy" and "dry." Further, being that it is also a developing country with correspondingly limited infrastructure, handling such seasons is difficult, limited, and wholly inadequate. West African flooding is notoriously destructive - something I, unfortunately, got a small taste of during my stay. That is, I got a taste of it in the increased difficulties of attempting to navigate the roads (totally ruling out any unnecessary travel more than once), and I got a taste of it as Mr. Agyare, his son Kofi, and I slowly drove towards the Accra Mall for an evening at the movies, upon Mr. Agyare's suggestion.


As we made our way down the highway, many walked along the side of the road, some stood awaiting tro-tros (taxi-like transportation in the form of large, over-occupied vans), and others set off across the sodden fields in a shortcut of necessity. It didn't take much to note that a dirt road running parallel to the highway had been totally flooded, the former site of a bridge now yielding to a raging river, with crowds of people on either side. The flooding would ultimately hit national, region, and global news, as thousands of homes across West Africa were ravished by the rains and torrents. 


I don't think I'll ever be able to forget the sinking feeling in my stomach as I looked on helplessly, the overwhelming sense of guilt as we drove by them in one of the most advanced vehicles I've ever found myself in. My thoughts cried for us to pull over and help them, or just commiserate with them - because what could I do to help them just then? ...I have no idea, but it didn't prevent me from feeling sick to my stomach.


Lately, it seems that many things have tied back to a passage from Grossman's Writing in the Dark, which I referenced earlier. Again, he's put into words an unfortunate but thought-provoking point:
"It seems that most of us manage to lead a life of almost total indifference to the suffering of entire nations, near and far, and to the distress of hundreds of millions of human beings who are poor and hungry and weak and sick, whether in our own countries or in other parts of the world. We are capable of developing apathy and alienation toward the suffering of the foreigners who come to work for us, and toward the misery of people under occupation - ours, and others' - and toward the anguish of billions of people living under any kind of dictatorship or enslavement. With wonderful ease we create the necessary mechanisms to separate ourselves from the suffering of others."


For this reason, if for no other, I'm painfully well aware that, frankly, being wealthy in India is something I wouldn't wish on myself - does that sound odd? Of course, one could do a great lot of good towards development organizations and charity work, etc etc (though this certainly can and has been done without riches, as well, to some extent)... but I know myself enough to know that I'd be stricken with guilt in the very knowledge that I was so well off in the midst of abject poverty and homelessness. My trouble isn't with capitalism, though, nor is it with the unavoidable forces of nature that may wreak such havoc upon those ill-equipped. My trouble's with just how large that gap is in the distribution of wealth and, perhaps more so, the concern and genuine fear that there are so many troubles in the world beyond my ability to fix. 


I was struck with the same stomach-sickening feeling as I realized all the more that even my coworkers still saw me first and foremost as a white person - even if that was to remark in surprise how humbled they were by the fact that a white woman could be so rooted and kind, understanding, etc. Where they meant to compliment, they upset. As I spoke with my friend Kofi about it later that evening, he asked, rather rhetorically, what I could do about it - "it" being the racism still so horrendously prevalent, the self-abasement that so sickened me. He, understandably, advised me not to upset myself over something it seems I can do so frustratingly little to change, no matter how hard I might try or protest it. My answer, however, remains the same - if everyone thought that way, so easily allowing for the status quo under the assumption that they are incapable of improving it, nothing would ever change, would it? Change for the better, that is.




Potential ways to help, beyond raising awareness, giving time, food, blood, etc:
Variety of Ways to Donate to Pakistan Flood Relief
American Red Cross
local organizations, food pantries, churches, etc.
Keeping on top of things and getting suggestions from the likes of CharityWatch.org
Country-specific organizations like the Association for India's Development (of which I'm proud to call myself a voting volunteer - had to get that plug in there somewhere)


...and the list goes on.  Other ideas? Please do share. :)