The Heart of the Matter is the Matter of the Heart

Over the weekend, I found myself reading through my old blog posts. I started from the beginning; reliving the rollercoaster of emotions that took place during my time in Africa. Remembering the fear, hope, anxiety, joy, and anger that consumer my life for 12 amazing months. The emotions consumed me and brought me back to the dusty roads of Masoyi, South Africa. I don’t fully understand why my current path has kept me from the continent I love so much over the past three and a half years. Though I still have hope and have never wavered in the knowledge that the relationships that were shaped during that time continue to live on.

As I was reading through my many posts, I had forgotten the sheer number of experiences that had taken place during my journey. I caught myself off guard reading through all of the stories, trials, and events took place in those 12 months; experiences that shook me to the core and experiences most people will never understand. With world AIDS day coming up on December 1^st, I thought I would share a few of my old blog’s from my time in Africa; beginning with an eventful week in May 2008.

Hello friends,

Last week had been a week that flew by and yet a week that was full of events you can't imagine. There are times when I will find myself thinking, “Well, there aren't too many more off the wall experiences for me to go through in this little part of rural South Africa.” Then, a week like last week comes along and shows me how naive I really am.

After receiving some sobering news on Monday morning, I headed off to K2, a care center, to see some of my students. After heading back to the car, I noticed a girl from a program I work with walking up with a friend. She was in obvious pain and was walking very slowly. I put my arm around her as she started to weep. I tried to rush through my mind what should be done. I drove her to the clinic and had a female friend meet me there to help with the situation. After some initial testing, the clinic said we should take her to the hospital. Now, I have been to clinics in different parts of South Africa and they are nothing to write home about. However, when we entered the emergency room at the government hospital in Nelspruit, the conditions were just crazy; people everywhere siting in chairs and lying on gurneys. Some of the people sitting in chairs had IV's in their arms with the bag of fluids balanced on their heads. After some time, a large number of people involved in a traffic accident arrived. I saw an ambulance chasing lawyer coming to see the people just as often as the doctors.

After some initial testing on the young girl, we waited for four hours with no results. As we waited I received a text message from a friend who said his wife saw me in the hospital. He was upstairs in ward ten and had been there all night. He had very serious kidney stones and was lying in a small bed with paint peeling off the walls and small bugs running along his face at night. After we visited him, I went down and waited for news on the girl in emergency. We had been told she had been admitted, however there was no bed available for her. She was told she would have to spend the night in the E.R. on a bed with no blanket or food. I had to drive to a friend’s house to get a blanket for her. After some time talking with the doctor’s with some other friends, they released her. After two days, she was still very sick and we took her back to the clinic. Diagnosis; Pregnant; grade 11, 18 years old, needs HIV test.

Later in the week I was driving with a couple of my female students. They were talking is SiSwati which I know bits and pieces of. Throughout their conversation I heard the name of another girl that I work with and the word "pregnant." Grade 10, 16 years old, needs HIV test.

Another one of our youth, who is HIV positive, was also found to be pregnant this week; 16 years old.

Three girls in one week found to be pregnant; all three I know. Two of the girls I know fairly well and work very closely with the other. It was a very tough few days.

On Friday, at a weekly meeting, I asked for prayers for the young girls in Masoyi and broke down. I would ask that you continue to pray for the young girls in Masoyi and the women on this continent.

As we drove back from the meeting, I noticed an old women and man walking down the road. The man could barely stand and the woman with him was struggling to keep him up. It was pension day in the community and it is required that this man be physically present to pick up his check. He lives a very long distance from the pension office. We stopped and drove them home. As we were driving, a woman I work with asked them some questions about their situation. The women explained that they were brother and sister and that she was helping her brother (who has some mental disabilities) get his check. The women explained that she was in her 50's and HIV positive. She was extremely disciplined with her treatment and looked healthy. She explained she was taking care of four of her grandchildren (all orphans); two of which were young mothers, and one was noticeably pregnant. After the week I had, I would usually have become so much more worn down and angry at the situation. However, something came over me and I felt a sense of hope. I felt our paths were supposed to cross that day.

The family can now be registered with Masoyi Home Based Care. Volunteers can start to care for these orphans and the young mother’s coordinator has said she will do an assessment of the young mom. It was the Good Samaritan right in front of me. We had the choice to pass or to stop. I realized if we are willing to take time, to show compassion, opportunity can begin to grow.

That night I spent the night in the community with one of my Students (you can see pic's from this stay on the right). We had great talks about his life; when his mother passed away, when his uncle was beaten and robbed, and how he had just met his 16 year old half-sister a month ago. I met his amazing grandmother, full sister, Aunt, and cousins who he lives with. They were so gracious and so welcoming. You could get a sense of their loneliness as they were so grateful to have a guest enter their home. We broke boundaries that night as his grandmother said (through translation) "thank you for not showing racism. I can see that you really love people."

Even with all of the difficult experiences, there are still amazing things being done here; we just have to be willing to open our eyes and be a part of it. 

And the Award Goes to...

Last Friday night, I headed to my parent’s house for my weekly visit. After a delicious meal of taco goodness, the rents and I sat down to watch the news. We tuned in to watch a story on the Governor General handing out numerous medals of bravery to honor ordinary Canadians who had put themselves at risk of injury or death in an attempt to help someone in need. This (as the news often does) fueled a debate in the living room.

“Dad” I asked, “would you accept an award for helping someone in need?”

“I don’t think I would” he responded. “I don’t think I should be given recognition for something I’m supposed to do, to help someone.”

Of course, this response raises another intellectual query. Are we supposed to help someone? Is it our responsibility? (For those of you who know me and/or have read this blog, I think you know my obvious answer to those questions).

Then my mom said, “of course I would hope I would help someone in a situation where they were in danger and in need of support. But, let’s say someone was in trouble in deep water; of which I have a great fear. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do. Would I be paralyzed by fear?”

“Well, I hope you wouldn’t be judged for not helping in a situation like that, where your capabilities couldn’t warrant helping the person” my dad responded. “But for someone who could help, who did have the ability to assist that person, why should they receive a medal? Why should they receive recognition when they thought they could/should help?” he added.

 “Well, I can’t imagine these people are acting in such a way to receive a medal or recognition” my mom responded. “People often just react in the moment. So, if someone thought a person deserved recognition for their bravery, why shouldn’t they accept the award? Especially if they acted when no one else did? I think I would accept it” she stated.

After listening to the debate, my first thought was this:

 “Well, I think that by awarding people for acts of compassion or kindness, we are telling society that these actions are ‘extraordinary.’ That helping someone in need is not normal. I think that’s the wrong message to send; the idea that it’s only ‘special’ people that do these acts. When frankly, we are all capable and should all be willing to step up to the plate when people are in danger or in need of support.” 

But, then again, perhaps these awards demonstrate to society that we can also change; that if ordinary people are capable of such actions, perhaps I am too. I agree people’s stories need to be told. I get inspired by peoples sacrifices; by their willingness to go beyond places I have gone. But do these awards cause people to act?

An interesting debate to say the least. Do we award acts of compassion, or ‘bravery?’ Or, should society realize that helping people shouldn’t be looked at like a choice? That awarding people for those acts creates a sense that compassion isn’t a part of humanities framework.  What are your thoughts?

Patience: A Virtue to Passion

I was surfing the big news outlets as I do every morning; BBC News, CNN, CBC, Globe & Mail, Huffington Post, etc. Of course it’s all the same; most of it crap I don’t care about. Headlines about Herman Cane and his pizza empire, new iphone released (ok, I care about that one a little bit), and how Michelle Obama likes to shop. I find it can often take a concerted effort to uncover stories of true meaning; stories that demand compassion; especially if these stories are no longer in the “spotlight.” I’m sure this isn’t news to any of you (no pun intended). The media is quick to move from one story to the next. They need to stay competitive with the other news agencies. They need to grab our attention with the next big scoop. Again, we are all well aware of the news cycle. For example, remember the protest in Syria? Some (certainly not all) media outlets report that 3000 people have died in the protests since they began. Oh, how about that famine in East Africa? Well, took some effort but I found an article from yesterday saying that 750,000 people, many of them children, are still facing a death sentence. Earthquake? Haiti? Ring a bell? And, as many of you know, the HIV/AIDS crisis in sub-Saharan Africa is something close to my heart. Thirty-five hundred people died of AIDS related illnesses in Sub-Saharan Africa yesterday; today; tomorrow…


We know these stories. We are all impacted and have some degree of compassion toward them in some way or another; whether it is just simply listening to the story on the radio, donating to a certain cause, or actually participating on the ground to support one of these initiatives. But, for most of us (myself included) we get inspired to act, participate, engage in the story, but like the media, our curiosity and concern quickly fades and is sparked once again by the next “big thing”. Many people may blame the media for inducing this psychological indifference. However, I would argue that the way the media operates is a product of human instability. Perhaps the media has taken advantage of this human shortcoming, but it’s ultimately our choice to continue to fight for a cause or injustice or to move on to the next hot thing. And frankly, I feel we are doing ourselves a major disservice by not giving more time to something that has given us that initial spark of curiosity or fervour. I truly believe our passion lies in those moments but we don’t give ourselves enough time to develop them.

People are always saying in one way or another, “find your passion, and live it out.” I personally believe in this statement, but people don’t allow things to grow and mature within them long enough to discern their true passion. I wonder if we have passed over our true “calling” because of this. Our search will be a never ending road if we believe a continual expanse of excitement will be the secret that opens the door to our life purpose. Of course we need to have emotions of joy and happiness to show us our passion is real, but don’t confuse that initial rush or excitement with those deeper healthy sentiments.

If we really gave ourselves a chance to fight through the urge to move onto the next story, I feel our sense of calling or purpose would reveal itself and be bigger and brighter than the next “big thing” ever could.

And, perhaps the media will shine the spotlight a little longer on stories that require compassion and will slowly shift the headlines from a story on what Tom Cruise had for breakfast, to a story that 15,000 children died today because they likely didn’t get breakfast.

Riots and the Hunger for Community & Compassion

As a Calgary Flames fan I thoroughly enjoyed watching the Vancouver Canucks get shut out in game 7 of the NHL Stanley Cup Finals on Wednesday night to the Boston Bruins. I was not looking forward to hearing “Vancouver Fan” gloat about their victory all summer long. After the game however, I was shocked to see riots erupting in Vancouver’s downtown streets. I was sure that the city would have learned its lesson after going through the same process in 1994 after the Canucks were defeated in a game 7 Stanley cup finals; this time to the New York Rangers. It didn’t even cross my mind as I watched Zdeno Chara, The Boston Bruins captain hoist the Stanley Cup over his head that outside the arena, destruction ensued. Why was this happening I thought? Frustration? Mounting pressure finally released? Was it a select few who were actually leading the charge when it came to looting, destruction and violence? Yes, I believe it was. However, what I couldn’t understand was the hundreds, if not thousands of people encouraging this behaviour; standing by and chanting for the destruction; rallying for the damage of property. What causes this many people to participate in something that seems so out of character in their everyday lives? I do understand that a large number of studies have been done to identify the cause of such behaviour and the psyche surrounding it. Perhaps what I am about to discuss has been researched, however I still think it’s important to examine.

Over the past few months, I have been looking into the idea of compassion (or lack thereof) in our society. As someone who works in non-profit work, I am surrounded by people working and volunteering daily for our community. But how do we get society as a whole involved in community on a grander scale? How do we engage the masses to lend support to causes they are passionate about? The more I thought about this, the more it came clear to me that I was thinking too much on a macro level. The following thought was brought to my attention at a conference I attended in March. “How do we expect people to engage in community activism if people aren’t willing to stop stepping over people they see sitting on the street as they walk to work every day?” This thought struck me. I live in a city, Calgary, which prides it’s self on being a “volunteer” city. I think there is a huge difference however between being a volunteer city and a compassionate city. In my opinion, Calgary, along with the rest of society lacks compassion. Of course many of us volunteer and support our community in a variety of ways which are extremely important endeavours; but for our society to truly progress, a culture of compassion and real community needs to emerge. The pressure to live for ourselves has compromised the idea of compassion. This pressure, to live for ourselves and to show others our importance and worth, has left compassion in the dust. As a 28 year old, I feel that weight on my shoulders. When I was 21/22 years old, society said it was acceptable to live for the cause and live for others. However, now that I am reaching the age of 30, society expects other things from me. It expects me to worry about my retirement, get a job, get the house, get the car, get, get, get. The rat race has run its course and, it has failed. It’s time for a new ideology to emerge.

I truly believe that my generation is hungry to be compassionate; hungry to live in community; hungry to be who our humanity intended us to be.

As I watched the riots in Vancouver, I watched a group of people’s hungry for that sense of community. It was great to see people coming together Wednesday night, however I think society is to blame for the actions of that community. What I saw was our societal thought process; that living for ourselves is what’s important and other peoples property and self-worth are of no significance. People may argue that this isn’t our culture or think that since volunteers came together and cleaned the streets and “took back the city,” this isn’t who we are. I see this act of volunteering just as I see someone volunteering at the homeless shelter once a year on Thanksgiving. I will not criticize these actions (I was extremely proud to see people come together in this way) what I will say however, is that it is not enough. It is only through the way we think that will change the way we act. It is the little everyday compassionate actions that I believe will start to change our mindset. There needs to be a shift in our ideology. We often burry that compassionate voice within us that so desperately wants to be heard. We don’t want be the one to go at it alone; to be the first one kneel down and have a conversation with that homeless person on my way to work. That’s not... “normal;” not what I’m expected to do.

After watching the riots in Vancouver, a colleague of mine noted the mob would encourage or on occasion, chant for destruction; perhaps the objective would be to see some window’s smashed. Eventually, one, two, or even a handful of people would then build up enough courage to leave the mob and attempt to break a window before once again blending into the crowd.

It’s time our community came together to rally around and chant for compassion; to inspire people to have the courage to leave the mob and step out and have that conversation with someone on the street asking for change. To help that elderly woman cross the street who is too afraid to ask for support. To intervene when a young person is being bullied. To stop and help that single mother whose grocery bags have split open. As we encourage this, I believe we will see more than a handful of people leaving the mob to support; and eventually, the mob will include everyone. For if we continue to believe compassion is something we do not something we are, the crowd of people chanting on the sideline for destruction and encouraging violence will continue to grow.

Compassion is a human trait; ignoring it is a societal one.