The Band Aid Dilemma

I know so little and I feel so foolish most days. I become frustrated as I fail to understand the whys and wherefores behind the circumstances I encounter. I feel stupid as I think about what little I have to offer. Too often I allow fear to keep me from speaking kindly, being excited, or even being willing to try new things. I wonder if my ideas and theories have any value, or if they are merely the thoughts of an ignorant girl who dwells in the idealized recesses of her own imaginary world. I hold onto hurts and take offence quickly. I doubt the trustworthiness of almost all I encounter. I allow my perfectionist nature to take control as I refuse to speak unless I KNOW the right word to use. I become angry quickly when I feel harassed, threatened, or unsure. I get tired of using small words and improper English to make myself understood, when people then doubt my intelligence because I don’t sound professional. I want to quit and just say “enough is enough” when people let me down or fail to live up to the standards I expect from them. I feel sad when I think about only being seen as “mzungu” a faceless, nameless, fairy godmother who is expected to have loads of cash to give freely.

I don’t have the answers I need. Each day I feel challenged by inadequacy and overwhelmed by the needs I see before me. My heart aches to ease the pain I see in the eyes of the children I pass. My head aches as I realize my own selfishness and I chastise myself for thinking that a hug can make the day bearable for some of those children.

I struggle with the “band aid” dilemma, let me share this with you, and perhaps an answer may be found.

-A “project child” comes to me after school one day and asks me to take a message to one of the project workers in Mbarara. He doesn’t have notebooks for school. Usually they are provided to the “project children” before school starts, but due to lack of funding, they weren’t available this term. He wants me to ask the worker if she can maybe send two, just to help him out. I talk with her in Mbarara, there is no money for books. I want to buy notebooks for him. I want to buy notebooks for all the project kids who are working hard in school but need books for writing notes in. (by the way, at the school there are no text books for the students, each class is a lecture, they write notes, revise, do homework, then take exams). Bekah is concerned that by giving them books we are reinforcing the idea that all mzungus have endless money and that we won’t be seen as teachers / aunts, but rather as rich outsiders who can provide all their needs. Maybe she is right. Maybe the book is just a band aid for the larger need. I don’t know.

-There are so many street kids here in Mbarara and Kabale. Many have run away from abusive living situations. Most of them could technically go back home. These young boys, aged 6-20, live in a gang of sorts, with captains and underlings…. Many smoke marijuana, sniff glue, pick pocket, and steal food. Our brother Patrick started a community based organization called Shepherds Center, devoted to reaching out to the street kids here in Kabale. Bekah, and now I, have gotten to know most of them. I don’t know their stories, I don’t know their pasts, and I don’t know why they chose to leave and chose a life on the street. I do know they are young. They are hungry, they are trying to survive. Last night it was storming, rainy and cold. I wanted to buy bananas and buns for the boys. Bekah said that sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better, that maybe the younger ones will figure out life on the street isn’t grand and they will go home. How can they figure that out if you are always buying them bananas and buns? Are bananas and buns mere band aids? I realize it doesn’t solve anything by feeding them on cold nights, but my heart aches to do so. I want to tell them, “I see you, you are valuable, you are a person, and I believe you have a future” I want to learn their names, encourage them to go to school, challenge them when I see them smoking or making poor choices. What is the proper course of action? I live in a village far away. I don’t see these kids on a regular basis, I don’t have the opportunity to sit down one on one with them. Is it my place to even care? Is it my place to want to help them? Does occasionally buying bananas or buns for hungry boys reinforce the “mzungu stereotype” or do they see the love of Jesus in me?

I struggle with knowing the proper course of action on a daily basis. A mom and her three young children live thirty feet from the secondary school. They have absolutely nothing. The oldest girl is about 8 and loves school, but mom has no money for food, let alone school fees. They are assured one meal a day- lunch – as one of my students fills her lunch plate, and then passes it off to the daughter. It took me a week of observation to figure it out. My student does this quietly and as of now, I am keeping her secret. Her teacher mentioned to me though that while she is a good student, after lunch she has trouble staying alert in class. I know it is because she hasn’t eaten in 8 hours. If the administration knew what my student was doing, she would be reprimanded. I want to respect her decision to skip a meal and help this family, so I am keeping my eye on her to make sure she doesn’t get sick from not getting nourished. But what do I do? At least twice a week I go sit with the family, and talk with the 8 year old, working on her English (her favorite subject), counting, and spelling. But does that really change anything? I just don’t know.

-The kids I work with come from painful pasts. I hear their stories, I listen to their memories, I see the scars, I see the long term effects of malnutrition in their stunted growth and poor teeth. Is being here for one year merely a band aid? Is offering them a hug merely a band aid for the gaping wounds they hold inside? I want to shield them from current abuse and hardships, give them time to heal, give them time to become strong before sending them back out into this harsh life they are faced with. But is that the best thing for them? I want to teach them coping mechanisms, but I wish there wasn’t a need for them. I want to lash out at the people who tell them they are worthless and just trash because they don’t have parents. But I fear that being “momma bear” doesn’t really solve anything. They need to be strong. How do I show these children, on an individual basis, that they are worthy of love, they are valuable, and they can choose to forgive those who abuse them? Is it possible to counter years of abuse, neglect, and hardships with a few months of being around to give them the occasional hug and “atta kid!”? Is this merely a band aid?