Transition Whatcom

I have a ring that I wear pretty constantly-- a simple silver, or more likely nickel, ring. Because of when and how and by whom I came to have the ring, it is a constant reminder for me to own little and give generously.

When I was 16, I had the opportunity to go to El Salvador in a solidarity mission to visit Bellingham's "sister city" down there. It was, of course, an incredible experience for me (in fact, I have not said the Pledge of Allegance ever since I learned what our "foreign aid" does to the people of abused nations). We stayed in this small village for a few weeks, helping build their first school for their children, talking and listening with the people there, and being fed wonderful home-cooked meals of fried plantain with cream, salty cheese, and hand-pounded tortillas.

The people of this village were materially poor in a way I could not have understood without experiencing it. I think each child owned one t-shirt and a skirt or pair of pants, which would be passed on to another child when outgrown. Some of the kids wore a pair of dirty flip-flops, and some ran around barefoot in the muds of the rainy season. I don't think there were any toilets, so it was hard to keep human waste from contaminating the stream that all their water came from. They had one little church shelter which was also the community center and the sewing cooperative and probably also the morgue. There was one truck that could be used to drive to the city for supplies, and only the pastor knew how to drive it.

And they were rich in ways I had never witnessed. Rich in family, in spirituality, in resourcefulness, in identity, in wholeness, in community. Everyone had everyone's back. No one was lonely. No one was worried about who would take care of them when they get old. No children were left behind, forgotten, or abandoned. The people there were SO welcoming and SO generous to us that I felt guilty about it. I had never been treated with such warmth and giving in my life, and we were strangers. Americans even.

As we were getting ready to leave, a little girl about 8 years old came up to me, her black eyes shining through her deeply tanned skin and long black hair. (The children had come up to me a lot while I was there, mostly to stroke my long blonde hair, a color they had never seen.) She handed me a silver ring. I told her it was "muy bonita" and gave it back to her. She handed it to me again. Again I praised the ring and tried to return it to her, but she would not take it. A man from our group said, "Chris, she wants you to have it. You need to accept the gift." It was painfully hard for me, an American who may as well have been a millionaire compared to the lifestyle of these people, to accept the ring from this skinny, muddy-footed, smiling little girl. But I did. I had to.

I have no idea where she would have gotten a piece of jewelry. Had she found it? Stolen it? Was it the only possession left from her great grandmother? Maybe some American visitor had given it to her on a previous trip. I will never know. But I do know that a person can have next to nothing and still give all that they have to someone else, in an expression of gratitude, with a smile on their face and in their heart.

Views: 61

Comment

You need to be a member of Transition Whatcom to add comments!

Join Transition Whatcom

Comment by Heather K on January 30, 2010 at 1:14pm
Chris - I love this real story of your life and the vision of deep community not based on possessions, but on generousity & family love expressed to all beings.

© 2024   Created by David MacLeod.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service