Thoughts on Poverty

I was inspired to write this morning when I learned from a friend that people have been asked to blog today about poverty. What a great idea. With the current economic situation, many of us are looking at our finances with some concern, but most of us are probably not in danger of living in poverty. We most likely will have to make some changes, some sacrifices, some choices. Postponing or canceling vacations, putting off big purchases, eating out less. But in some countries, poverty means the people don't take vacations, buy a new washing machine or eat out at all. On the news last night, I saw a shocking picture of a store in Africa with empty shelves; there was no food to be bought.

On our walk yesterday, John and I were talking about one of the sweetest moments of our lives. It happened when we were visiting our daughter in the Peace Corps in Namibia (formerly Southwest Africa). She was a teacher and lived in a cement block home on a family compound located in an area called Ovamboland, just south of Angola. In fact, she and her friends went to an outdoor cafe on the border. She didn't tell me before we got there how close she was to Angola, where a civil war was going on and Unita rebels often crossed the border. There was also the threat of leftover land mines and diseases like elephantiasis, but we slept under mosquito netting and felt safe with her African family.

One night, after eating the goat prepared in our honor (the goat was slaughtered and butchered hanging from a tree outside Kara's house; I couldn't look) we sat around the fire that had been built under the incredible starry sky. This was a custom and took the place of watching television. During the daytime, the family sat under the spreading marula tree to try to catch a breeze. On this particular night, we chatted and often sat in silence, overwhelmed by the size and depth of the night sky, stars burning more brightly in the absence of electricity. We were all looking up when I noticed a star that seemed to be blinking and then I could see it was moving slowly across the vastness. The father said in a solemn voice, "The plane to Luanda." That was our moment. The one we took home from Africa. Such a simple statement and one we would never hear anywhere else.

That family might be considered to be living in poverty. But they had a well on their property which they shared with the neighborhood (a far-reaching neighborhood) and they had family around the fire on dark nights. They had the marula tree for their living room and the children played joyfully with old tires, sticks and toys made from coke cans. Being welcomed by them, because my daughter was their daughter, taught me a valuable lesson about money that I will never forget. Being rich is having children, grandchildren, good friends. Making a difference. Happiness is the plane to Luanda.