Dating Salone

Salone and I have well passed the honeymoon stage, and I am already beginning to combat the natural cynicism that seems to seep into many development relationships. I entered into this monogamous (on my part at least J ) partnership wrestling through the incredible barriers surrounding cycles of poverty and the overwhelming idea of really assisting in the journey of transformation for a small people group. God opened my eyes to the condition of women with disabilities here, and I had to begin asking Him questions.

One of the first questions I asked was, “why them and not me?” Why have I been awarded such opportunity and comfort while these women are left to maybe an elementary level education (if that), confined by stereotypes and stigma that perpetuate discrimination and feelings of low self-worth. The next question I had to ask is, “so how does one really love someone well anyway?” Those questions became a driving force in my participation with the birthing of WOHInt. The only real answer I had is that only God could possibly know.

Why had I been exposed to the plight of these women? What had God taken me through personally that might be of value to their lives, and what is my responsibility now that I have seen what I have seen? These questions haunted me. As I continued on the journey to finding the answers (this journey that I’m still on) God began to give terse responses to myself and the original founders of WOHInt. Those “responses” formed the strategies that we felt best matched Jesus’ development strategies.

I really believed these founding principles to be true, but this trip is making me put my money where my mouth is as far as what I really believe about the life transformation that Christ is working on here. While my relationship with Salone has not been one of pretenses I think, my eyes have been opened more to the deeply rooted oppression in governmental corruption and an unbiblical worldview that appears to bind many third-world countries, hindering their progression. Again, similar questions continue to plague me, and I am forced to ask myself if the answers He keeps providing me with are enough.

I wrestle often with the question of how one really loves well. As I look at the poverty that surrounds me and as I listen to the stories of my friends, so many of them are woven with sorrow. I vacillate between responding to my knee-jerk reaction of giving (although I have no money myself J) and maintaining a tough-love mentality, giving the promise to walk alongside each woman in her personal journey to find “dignity, purpose and life transformation.”

I have been working with one of our women named Fatmata for an hour every morning to strengthen my Krio. Fatmata contracted Polio as a child and now uses a caliper to help her walk. Last week she showed up for my lesson without her leg brace. She told me that her mobility aid had finally broken on her way home from our lesson the day before. She had been walking home and the metal that holds her leg straight completely broke. She fell in the street, and had to limp the rest of the way home, stopping every so often to rest her weak leg. It took her four hours to reach her house. She teared up when she explained the story and how she didn’t know how she was going to get her caliper fixed.

My initial reaction was to say, “don’t worry, I can help you with the fifty dollars you need to get your caliper fixed.” As someone who used to be dependent on my prosthetic, I was really able to relate to the feelings of anxiousness when your independence is ripped from you, and you aren’t able to do the same things you could once do on your own when your adaptive device is damaged. Fatmata has a five-month child and she is a single mother. As I stared Fatmata in the face, I realized that maybe my convictions weren’t as strong as I thought they were. I knew I needed to wrestle some more with what I believed to be true outside of the WOHInt strategic plan that looked quite good to me on paper. I needed to wrestle some more with what I believe to be true.

I started to think about the potential long-term implications of giving Fatmata this money. I could be playing into the common African belief that white people are their saviors, further speaking into the idea that the country will only succeed with continual help from the Western world. I could be communicating the message that I don’t think she is capable of managing on her own. On a bigger scale, I am assuming the responsibility of addressing the large-scale problem of a shortage of mobility-aid devices instead of working with the disability community to address the problem as a whole. Personally I could be stroking my own savior complex, elevating myself as a giver. Lastly, I would be hypocritical in my giving, undermining WOHInt and our commitment not to give, but to equip and empower women with disabilities.

The wrestling match led me to the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2:15). God made us for His own glory and our good, to work this Earth that He blessed us with and take care of it. He equipped us to carry out this task. He created Fatmata and designed plans for her life. He spoke into being skills and abilities, calling her His masterpiece. The best way I know how to love someone is to affirm just what God has created within him or her, supporting and equipping her for her own betterment and the ability to go bring “Garden living” somewhere else.

But what about all the brokenness? What about sin? What about the reality of the situation presently? We aren’t living in the Garden of Eden anymore. Romans 8:22 “We know that the whole of creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to this present time.” Paul recognizes that something is off here. There is extreme suffering, evil and pain. The answers I came up with aren’t really easy to digest.

I believe the only thing that doesn’t serve as a band-aid on the gunshot wound is the working toward this Garden of Eden restoration, the restoring of right relationship with God, each other, ourselves and the earth. The Jews used the word Shalom with the Hebrew translation being “peace.” The word can also encompass ideas of wellness, completeness, and wholeness. If this is true, then the best thing I have to offer Fatmata isn’t a caliper or some money, but instead the promise to work together in seeking shalom and bringing it ourselves. If I want to love Fatmata well, first I need to affirm the gifts she has been given and make the commitment to work with her and community to bring restoration physically, emotionally, socially and spiritually.

I talked over the situation with Kim, and we agreed that we could give Fatmata an advance on the money she was to earn for next week in order to pay for caliper repairs. This money would not be the total amount for a new caliper, however. We contacted a member of the WOHInt Advisory Board who is the Director of the Prosthetics Outreach Foundation and attempted to connect with Handicap International in Freetown to help Fatmata identify the best resources available for her. After a long weekend Fatmata returned from Freetown with a patched caliper. She was able to address her problem and meet her own need. She didn’t get a new caliper, and we haven’t solved the problem of sustainable mobility aid devices for the women just yet. I believe Fatmata is on a journey of discovering her dignity that has been worn down and oftentimes stolen by society because of her disability, her sex, and her economic status. I am privileged to journey alongside her.