next...

My friend, Steve, tells me that there is no point in spending too much time worrying about what comes next because, in reality, something always does. It’s not a direct quote but I think I captured the essence of it. Likewise, Buddhist philosophy tells us that if we stay in the present moment, essentially if we take very good care of this particular day, then our path will unfold exactly as it should. If we take care of today, tomorrow will take care of itself. All of that notwithstanding, I am spending an inordinate amount of time lately wondering “what’s next?”

The past 3 years working in Africa, and particularly the past 6 months of capacity building and NGO administrative work, has certainly qualified me to work for one of the myriad NGOs across Africa that are doing HIV outreach and development work. But as I pour over the job listings, I am reminded that, for the most part, I detest these organizations. While, admittedly, a modicum of good comes out of their work here, their primary purpose is to survive and expand as organizations. Serving the people who are poor and suffering is a nice and occasionally marketable output; however, it does not seem to be essential. I do keep sending in my resume to the Clinton Foundation because the work they do, which includes efforts such as securing flow cytometers to quantify CD4 counts of people with HIV to determine their readiness for antiretroviral treatment, would allow me to make use of my biomedical background as well. But the Clinton Foundation likes to hire people with advanced degrees in public health from Ivy League Colleges and, even then, it helps to "know someone who knows someone…" We can tell the Clinton folks here in Malawi by the polo logos on their shirts and the tassels on their loafers. It has been suggested that they are a little “out of touch” here.

I also sent a CV out to the International Rescue Committee (who approached me with an interesting job description 3 days after I accepted the Crisis Corps assignment) because my sense is that they do more “front line” kind of work in areas of greater need. Beyond that, it’s anyone’s guess. Right now I am a “probability wave” (see any high school physics text) and could be anywhere, traveling in any direction at any speed. It is only when I make that decision that the wave collapses and my direction can be determined. Perhaps it is time to step away from poverty and suffering for a while and remain in the land of good and plenty. But even before I left the States 3 years ago, I would find myself standing in the cereal aisle of the supermarket, eyes glazed over, immobilized and maybe a little terrified by all the choices. And even now I wonder why, when millions of people are sick and dying, while there are currently 23 MILLION ORPHANS in Africa alone, while people are persecuted and killed for their beliefs (of lack thereof), why in the world we are intensely preoccupied with whether or not a woman gets extra time to take a college exam because she is pumping breast milk for her infant? Why in the world is this a news worthy issue?

As I was riding into town this morning, a woman got on the minibus holding a young child. Judging from his length, I might have said he was about a year and a half, but he was so thin and tiny, he looked younger. The child’s contorted face looked as if it was frozen mid-scream, his mouth stretched into a wide grimace with a few jagged teeth exposed, eyes bulging, eyebrows knitted together as if knotted in pain. Despite the agonized look, no sound escaped other than an occasional soft rasping from his throat. I couldn’t look at him and I couldn’t look away. The woman holding him was old enough to be his grandmother but possibly young enough to have birthed him late in life. She did not nurse the child, which would be unusual for a mother over the course of an hour and a half minibus ride, so I suspect she is a non-maternal caregiver. She had a haunted look about her and I wanted desperately to relieve her burden. I am aware that there are sick children and encumbered caregivers everywhere, but nowhere moreso than Africa. And I was reminded, once again, why I am here and why I may need to continue on this path if it is, indeed, “next”.