Since it’s about to be the season of giving and counting our blessings, I thought I’d write about my amazing trip to Morocco (in Northern Africa) and the perspective I gained from it. Everyone (myself included and no less at fault) takes what we have for granted. But after this trip, my eyes have been opened, and I’m trying to appreciate everything I have a little more and remind myself each day that my everyday troubles aren’t the end of the world—there are others worse-off than I am. Here are three lessons I learned and that I’m going to try and keep in mind this season (and from now own):
Put things in perspective. We traveled to the breathtaking landscape of the Sahara desert. Talk about a humbling experience: in that vast expanse of sand, it’s easy to realize that you aren’t much more than a speck of life in the world. Especially after talking to the people of the native tribe there—called the Berbers—I realized that life in the desert had gone on more or less the same for hundreds of years, and would probably (despite a few modern conveniences like Toyota 4x4s and cell phones with Justin Bieber ringtones) continue on more or less the same for hundreds more. The Berber people taught me a lot. They live in a harmonious, respectful relationship with nature. They live simply—they don’t lead a materialistic life like many of the more developed countries in the world. It’s the difference between using things to live and living to use things. It made me think: which do I do? If I’m honest with myself, the second one. But the people in the desert don’t have that consumer attitude, and they are content. In fact, it was amazing to me that they seemed happier with their quality of life than many people I have met who seem to have so much more. Maybe we can all learn a little something from that.
Be grateful for what you have. When riding by bus through the African countryside, we stopped at the side of the road in a random spot in the wilderness. At first I was confused—what were we doing there? The land wasn’t very pretty or hospitable; in fact, the ground was steep and rocky and the mountains rose into jagged, hostile peaks above us. But then I saw them, sitting precariously on the slope of the hills by the road: houses. “Houses” is a poor exaggeration, as they were really shanties or tents, patched together with moth-eaten blankets full of holes and trash bags, held up by little more than sticks and mud, looking like one good wind would knock them over. Of course we’ve all seen things like this on TV, but sadly, I’ve become kind of desensitized and removed from the images they show on television—they seem like a movie or a video game, not real life. So to see it in person was something entirely different. It was like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over me and I was shocked into awareness. Walking up the hill from the houses came a few families. One little girl of around three years old came up clutching her mother’s skirts, with eyes so wide and big that it broke your heart. She was wearing an outfit that had been haphazardly thrown together from whatever articles of clothes her family could find and afford, and all of the clothes were stained and worn. I wanted to cry. These people were worried about the basic things that I had never had to stop and think about: food, shelter, water, and clothing. It almost made me ashamed for what I had, which was so much. I never want to take it for granted again.
Take advantage of what you have. Beyond even just appreciating what I have, I want to use the resources at my disposal to help others who are less fortunate. When we stopped by the side of the road, our program directors unloaded boxes of old clothes and supplies that students in programs before us had donated at the end of their stay in Spain. The people were so grateful. I decided to give my pretty red silk scarf I was wearing to the little girl, and her mother must have thanked me a thousand times and looked dangerously close to tears. If a simple gesture such as that could make such a huge difference, I had to ask myself why I wasn’t doing more. If I have so much, why don’t I use it? I decided that upon my return to the states that I am going to go through my closet—which is overflowing with old clothes and things that I consider “junk” but which would probably mean the world to someone else—and give things away that I don’t need. It’s not just the people in Africa that need help, either—the more shocking and surprising thing is that there are people in our own neighborhoods and towns that have just as much need. More than donating items, I also want to donate my time and volunteer more. It’s easier than we think to find ways to make a difference; there are lots of programs we can take advantage of just here in Columbus:
http://salvationarmycolumbus.org/: If you click on the “Give Help” tab on the Salvation Army’s web page, you can find out how to donate used items or volunteer your time.
http://www.donationtown.org/ohio-donation-pickup/: Donation Town is a great website that provides a directory of charities that pick up used items. Select your local charity and schedule a pick up or visit their drop-off location to donate.
http://www.volunteermatch.org/: Volunteer Match allows you to search for Volunteer opportunities in your area.
There are tons of other ways to get involved—through your student organization, your fraternity or sorority, your church, or just by taking a group of friends to a local shelter or soup kitchen to help out! I am making a pact with myself to become more involved this year and make a difference. My trip to Morocco gave me perspective; now it’s time for me to use it. I can’t think of a more perfect time of year to remind ourselves of what we have and how we can use it to help others. Here’s to a holiday season full of appreciation and giving, and newly inspired and aware collegiettes™!
Pictures:
1. Me with a child in Merzuja, a town in the Sahara desert.
2. My friend and I with new friends Rashid and Mohammed, Berber men, in the Sahara desert.