I’ve spent nearly a month traveling around the West African nation of Senegal under the wing of a Peace Corps volunteer and the groundbreaking organization Tostan. And when I say I’ve been traveling, I mean it!

Whether on foot, by bus, bush taxi or bike, I’ve been moving. Getting out to the most remote parts of Senegal takes time and skill…and a lot of languages. And that’s just getting around! Once you’re settled, the real work begins. Village life demands constant effort

The most remote places of Senegal are home to hundreds of villages.

It’s a life completely different than what I’m used to, but these are a lot of the places where schools, healthcare and other basic needs aren’t being met. These are also places where cultural practices like early marriage and Female Genital Cutting put women’s health at risk.

How can we help in a context we don’t fully understand, and in places so inaccessible?

For starters, we can learn like Tatiana is trying to do during her two years as a Peace Corps volunteer. We can also support the work of organizations like Tostan that work with communities through local facilitators to promote women and children’s rights. Complex issues like those out in remote villages aren’t out of reach—they just require a little more leg work to understand.

10 Kilometers That Way

How many days, public transport vehicles and languages does it take to get around the West African country of Senegal? Read on to find out…

Click here to read this travel guide…

Bassari Life in Motion – Part I

I’m learning that although village life moves slower, it moves constantly. Watch and learn what it takes to be Bassari—from hut building to rice pounding!

Click here to read this culture guide…

Photo Gallery: Bassari Life in Motion – Part II

There’s more! Learn more about village life in Senegal from the residents of Ethiolo…

Click here to see this photo gallery…

Someone Else’s Village

What would it take for you to move to a remote African village for two years? Learn why Tatiana is happy to be doing just that…

Click here to read this article…

Says Who? – Part I

Female Genital Cutting is wrong…right? Read why we need to look deeper into this one before moving forward…

Click here to read this article…

Says Who? – Part II

Learn how Tostan works with villages to promote human rights rather than against them.

Click here to read this article…

This is Part II of a two-part article. To read Part I, click here.

Amidst the overwhelming challenge of addressing sensitive issues like Female Genital Cutting, the organization Tostan works with villages instead of against them.

To learn more, Tatiana and I headed back to Dakar to join up with Tostan employees. Before long, we hopped in the Tostan vehicle with Kalidou, the Tostan National Director of Senegal, and another employee to journey across the country to experience the work of Tostan firsthand.

Well…to experience a fete firsthand. Translation: party.

Yes, I was a little skeptical to hear that Tostan, promoter of human rights in nearly 10 African nations for 30 years, is busy throwing parties. But these are no ordinary parties—they are declarations.

How It Goes

To be a part of Tostan, a village participates in the three-year Community Empowerment Program—facilitated lessons on everything from accounting to health and hygiene to basic human rights. The facilitator comes from the same ethnic group as the majority of the village where he or she is teaching and is therefore familiar with local customs. Tostan hires a facilitator and provides training and support, and the hosting village provides housing, food and a place for the CEP classes to be held with a co-ed group of villagers.

Tostan meeting with local and national leaders, including Kalidou Sy (in green), Tostan Senegal National Director.

In addition to setting up a CEP class, the village forms a Community Management Committee comprised of nine women and eight men. The committee works in conjunction with the members of the CEP class to lead development projects in the village—they’re the link that helps turn ideas and discussions into action.

At the end of three years, some villages decide to hold a public declaration. They usually compose a written statement of how they will uphold basic human rights in their village—how they will move away from forcing girls to marry at an early age and drop out of school, how they will abandon practices like FGC that put a woman’s health at risk.

Once these declarations are composed, well…there is obviously reason to celebrate!

A Big Deal

I walked into the central plaza of the town of Bakel unsure of what to expect from such a grand Tostan “declaration.” People from the surrounding villages began pouring into the city the night before the event—69 villages in total.

These girls are learning about the basic tenets of human rights, including their right to an education and control over their own bodies.

That’s right. In this one area alone, Tostan programs run in 69 villages. At this event, 20 villages were to “declare,” or make their promise to uphold women and children’s rights in their villages as discussed during their three years as Community Empowerment Program participants. The other 49 villages in attendance were all somewhere in their three years of lessons.

Tatiana and I waded through the sea of women dressed in their best, most colorful dresses to the hundreds of chairs and accompanying shade tents surrounding the dirt plaza where drums were already starting. We situated ourselves in a spot barely inside the shade next to a girl with soft features wearing a sparkling white dress.

Meet Mariama

She introduced herself as Mariama from Gouniang. Mariama carries herself with the solemnity of someone much older than her 18 years. Perhaps her critical, attentive disposition is what made her a good candidate for participation in her village’s Tostan class.

Mariama, standing on her chair to watch the dancing.

She may have only attended three years of formal schooling, but Mariama is learning skills now through her Community Empowerment Program that will give her responsibility in the well-being of her entire community in the future. Hopefully, Mariama’s village will be reading their own declaration at an event like this one a year from now.

As the event began, Mariama leaned forward in her chair, soaking up the words of the local leaders as they shared congratulations with the community. She and her classmates listened to the speakers and nodded along, at one point shaking their heads and reiterating, “forced marriage is bad,” to one another in their local language of Pulaar.

What Went Down

Mariama watched over Tatiana and me out of the corner of her eye throughout the event. She even clicked her tongue assertively at me during the prayer to attract my attention and show me the proper way to hold my hands. I flipped my palms up and overlapped my fingers before I caused her any more embarrassment.

Some of the local girls performing a dance for the event. They came in wearing t-shirts and holding signs about ending forced marriage and excision.

As the event went on (and on and on…as is tradition with Senegalese fetes), we watched lively dances from one of the local ethnic groups and listened to poems and speeches, honoring the “positive” local traditions.

Everything about the event built up the local citizens—they came of their own free will to declare a better future for their children and daughters. They publicly declared to respect their girls’ right to go to school, to choose to enter into marriage, and to be free from the dangerous practice of FGC.

The Right Direction

We asked Mariama about her Tostan lessons so far. She told us about her new knowledge of money keeping, hygiene, counting and how now, at the age of 18, she can write her own name. She hopes the lessons will end forced and early marriage in her village.

Although the road may be a long one, Mariama is a part of discussions now that will hopefully create new standards for human rights in her village. It takes a moment to tell someone what is illegal, but it may take a movement, an entire community of heightened consciousness, to respect it.

Diairi, calling her peers and community to action!

We looked around at the event, girls holding signs declaring, “End Excision!” (FGC) in French, and decided we could ask the question.

“Mariama, what do you think of excision?” I asked through Tatiana.

“Not good. It’s illegal,” she asserted (what did I expect?)

But looking around at the entire community—men, women, local and regional leaders—all walking proudly into a collaboration to protect the well-being of their people, I believed Mariama was telling me the truth.

Disclaimer: This article contains some graphic content. It is intended for mature audiences only.

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I looked at Tatiana across our dinner bowl, scanned the face of her host mom next to us, then turned back to Kali, the ancient, sickly man asleep on the ground.

Kali no longer works and is without family or means to care for himself, so he wanders the village. He frequents the compound of Tatiana’s host family, curls up on a mat of reeds next to an equally lethargic dog and waits for a meal. Kali once held the title of village “excisioner,” the man who earned a living by performing Female Genital Cutting on the local girls.

Government laws and programs don’t necessarily make it all the way out to these guys in the village.

Broaching the topic is a struggle, even for Tatiana who is well incorporated into the village and her host family. She’s asked about it before, but she feels like people are still uncomfortable talking openly about it to her, a white person. She offered to ask her host mom again, for my sake, over dinner.

But when Tatiana casually inquired about whether or not someone had replaced Kali as village excisioner, her mom gave the expected, appropriate response:

“Of course not. That’s illegal.”

Some of the Facts

Girls grow up very fast in village life, but should FGC be part of “becoming a woman”?

True. The practice became illegal in Senegal in 1999, but just like public transportation and government schools, the law does not always reach remote villages.  And whether it’s happening or not, few people want to discuss it with an outsider. Female Genital Cutting, also referred to as Female Genital Mutilation or Female Circumcision, has traditionally been practiced in most African nations (as well as a few other countries).

FGC looks different in different cultures, but in general, the procedure involves removing some or all of a young girl’s external genitalia. This rarely occurs with any sort of pain killer, and conditions are usually less than sterile. A girl undergoes the procedure as a part of cultural initiation or to deter her from being sexually promiscuous (the idea being if sex is no longer enjoyable, then she won’t want to sleep around).

Some girls suffer from infection or hemorrhaging from the procedure itself or contract HIV through unsterilized knives and razor blades. Even if they make it through the procedure healthy, they are at greater risk of difficulty in childbirth later on, putting mother and baby in danger.

From the Outside

To be frank, just thinking about the subject induces a pretty strong gag reaction in me, a woman who has never lived in a culture where FGC (or anything close) is permissible. And I’m not alone; even the United Nations has launched strong action against the practice, looking out for the welfare of girls around the world.

FGC is perpetuated through the generations by men and women.

I couldn’t be happier about condemning FGC. I mean, it’s cruel, derogatory towards women on principle and obviously wrong…right?

Well, maybe obviously wrong isn’t so culturally sensitive. In fact, mine is the zealous stance that serves as a pitfall for many do-gooders who try to broach the subject from the outside. We jump into a village or country carrying laws and threats without acknowledging the deep-rooted significance of what we’re attacking.

For example, what happens when one village decides to abandon the practice, but the women of the village are supposed to marry men of the neighboring village where FGC is still practiced? They may be left without husbands and therefore without children—the social security system of bush life.

Moreover, how would you respond if the primary message you received from the outside was, “Stop! Your culture is barbaric,” when you were only trying to look out for the well-being of your children?

Where to Start

There’s an organization out there to promote a healthy future for girls in Senegal.

It’s a sticky situation. The risks to physical and emotional health from FGC are real, even if the people who still practice it are unaware of them, but many villages are leery about discussing such topics with those outside of their communities.

Where to start? How can anyone possibly begin to navigate the intricate fabric of culture, stigma and inaccessibility that surrounds the practice of Female Genital Cutting in remote villages in dozens of countries around the world?

Well, there’s one organization on the ground doing just that…

“Are there crocodiles in Senegal?” I inquired at the edge of the stream, blocking our way across the path.

“Yes,” Tatiana asserted as she ploughed through the moonlit water. I hardly had time to turn my flashlight on before she’d reached the other side.

Right. Why check? I splashed behind, shining my light around the water…just in case.

This is a termite mound growing inside of Tatiana’s hut. Just one of the many special touches of nature in her home!

I’ve never considered myself a worrier, but following Tatiana around Senegal has definitely pushed the limits a little. After living in village for over a year as a Peace Corps volunteer, some adjustments to perspective are expected. She doesn’t worry much about what she eats, and she doesn’t flinch when a neighbor gives her a live chicken as a gift to carry home over 7 km.

It’s all just part of life.

Uncomfortable

But other things are a little harder to stomach. For example, Tatiana has found no less than three Black Mambas (a deadly snake) in her hut. Her hair is thinning from malnutrition. She’s suffered multiple skin infections. And last year, she came down with a case of Shigella (a form of dysentery) during the hot season when temperatures reach 120 degrees Fahrenheit.

Tatiana gathering her beans from the fields.

“You know, as miserable as Shigella was, it was great to feel a chill. I had to cover with a blanket! I sort of hope I get a fever this hot season…” she told me, optimistically.

Well, at least she gets adequate compensation for her suffering, right? Not exactly. Upon arriving in Senegal, Tatiana received three months of training, a mosquito net, a water filter, a bike and one ride out to her village. Now, she receives a modest living stipend and will leave her service with a few thousand dollars to pay for things before finding a job.

Basically, there are a number of things a college graduate with a dual degree in economics and Spanish could do that would bring in more cash and involve far fewer mosquitoes. But despite all of this, there is no place Tatiana would rather be for these two years than in the village of Ethiolo.

Becoming Local

Tatiana was sent to Ethiolo as a Small Enterprise Development volunteer. Since arriving in village, she’s been learning about the women’s groups, community gardens, marketable local products, Bassari cultural tourism and more in an effort to figure out sustainable ways for the people to generate more income to send children to school, feed their families during the starving season and pay for important things like medicine.

Tatiana and a local teacher, Antoinette, preparing curriculum for the girls’ program.

But above all, her responsibility is to learn. She has been thrown into the humbling situation of living amongst an entirely new culture with people who survive by the work of their hands and reliance on one another.

Tatiana is not their savior; she is an honored guest in their home.

“It is good that she’s here,” her host mom told me (through Tatiana translating, of course) over our shared dinner bowl, “we can teach her many things she doesn’t know.”

And teach her they have. She helps farm, participates in food preparation and she’s learning more of the two local languages daily. Her mom even gave Tatiana her own plot of land to farm this year. Tatiana blends in seamlessly with her family as she sits around the compound and sorts peanuts or jokes with her host sisters about the local men.

Her Place

The adaptation is not without hiccups. Tatiana grows frustrated with little things like the practice of the entire village visiting the hut of sick person (it really cuts in on rest time). We also couldn’t help but shake our heads when her host brother intentionally cut his foot with a razor one morning at breakfast to “bleed out” his sprained ankle.

Antoinette and Tatiana meeting with the mothers in the village to discuss the upcoming program for their daughters.

Tatiana speaks up when something is dangerous, but in general, she is not in Ethiolo to change local practices. She waits for opportunities where her knowledge may be of use. She cites teaching her host mom how to document sales on market day as one of the most important contributions she’s made. And lately, one of the local teachers approached her with the idea to address important health and life issues facing young girls through a series of lessons.

When ideas like these come up, Tatiana helps gather resources, whether it’s finding markers, doing internet research or applying for a grant from the local World Vision office. She serves as a link between her village and many well-intentioned programs that sometimes don’t quite make it out to Ethiolo. Her work brings her in contact with the ins and outs of poverty alleviation efforts on the ground level.

Open Up

Tatiana probably won’t solve world hunger during her two year stint in Ethiolo, but the impact of her experience in her own life and the life of the village is unknown. Because of her willingness to let go of the familiar, she’s gaining an understanding unlike any other:

Tatiana and her host mom out in the fields.

What does sponsoring a child look like from the other side? How does corruption play into development work? How do local people feel about practices like female genital cutting, labeled by the international community as a human rights violation? What does poverty actually mean?

Tatiana’s commitment reminds me that to find out—I mean really strive to understand—it takes more than just asking the right questions or being in the right place. We must humble ourselves. We must be open to other paradigms, accepting that ours are merely a few among many.

Maybe we all need a year in someone else’s village.

This is the second part of a two-part culture guide. To read Part I, click here.

The Senegalese village of Ethiolo may only have 500 residents, but the unique lifestyle and customs of the Bassari people here could take years to understand. Continue to learn a little about life in Ethiolo from these images…

Life moves a little slower out in the Senegalese village of Ethiolo. The general pace lulls some visitors into thinking that not a lot goes on in these parts, aside from tea drinking and long conversations. But I’m learning that although life here moves slower, it moves constantly.

All day people work out in their fields, prepare meals, carry water, repair huts, walk to the market, visit sick neighbors and more. ‘Work time’ and ‘personal time’ flow seamlessly together in days full of activity, from sunup to sundown. But these activities aren’t exactly optional—many Bassari families in Ethiolo depend on the food they farm to survive, and their community structure is built on relationships that are nurtured by lingering visits between neighbors.

The village chief and one of his grandsons

I’m not sure if I’d cut it as a Bassari. But luckily, my friend Tatiana and her host family are helping me learn the ropes.

Have a look at some of the day-to-day happenings of village life.

This is the first part of a two-part culture guide. To read Part II, click here.

To be frank, the Middle East gets a lot of bad press in the U.S. The media portrays the region as unstable—the birthplace of modern-day terrorists. But after spending time with some dedicated change makers in Jordan and across the border in Israel, I see the goodness and grace that more accurately describe the people of the region.

Sunset over Salt, Jordan.

In Jordan, I spent time with Global Hope Network learning about their relational approach to rural development and their work with partners throughout Jordan to care for overlooked populations like refugees and the disabled. Beyond Global Hope, I explored an important school for deaf children called the Holy Land Institute, spent a few days with an inspirational Palestinian nonviolence movement in the West Bank and—of course—had my share of cultural mishaps along the way.

But despite my language and cultural ineptitudes, and despite the reputation of the Middle East, I witnessed the goodness of God daily in people fighting for the rights of the marginalized.

That’s a story more people should hear. Read why hope and justice belong in our discussions about the Middle East.

What Can’t Be Said

I’m in the Kingdom of Jordan, where faith, government and social justice collide—read how people here are rising to the challenge.

Click here to read this travel journal…

Photo Gallery: More Than Goats

Global Hope Network is reaching far out into the villages of Jordan to partner with local leaders for development. Learn more about the simple but promising tool GHNI is using.

Click here to see this photo gallery…

Shwei Shwei

Read why shwei shwei (slowly slowly) is the way Global Hope approaches relationships and development in Jordan…

Click here to read this article…

Culture Guide: 40 Bites

The secret to making friends in Jordan: eat what you are offered, even when it hurts!

Click here to read this culture guide…

Photo Gallery: What a Wheelchair can Do

See the combined efforts of Global Hope and Joni and Friends to overcome the stigma of disability here in Jordan.

Click here to see this photo gallery…

To Cover or Not To Cover?

The hijab is normal attire for women in Jordan. Read about my frustrating experiences as the fashion minority in a foreign land…

Click here to read this travel journal…

Land vs. Peace – Part I

Stepping over the Jordanian border into Israel brought me face to face with some serious pursuers of peace in the Holy Land…

Click here to read this article…

Land vs. Peace – Part II

Seeking peace with peace itself? Read more about the Holy Land Institute’s groundbreaking work towards reconciliation in the Holy Land…

Click here to read this article…

Education in Place of Shame

The Holy Land Institute for the Deaf may look like just a school, but it’s combating harsh perceptions of disability in Jordan…

Click here to read this article…

I hopped in the car beside Rami, Global Hope employee and Julie, the office assistant, to visit one of GHNI’s newest constituent villages. Rami explained the agenda for the afternoon: build relationships. We were heading to a village where Global Hope was in the middle of a year-long process of building trust with the people living there.

After only one hour of driving, we pulled off the road into a cluster of dilapidated buildings and tents, home to a village of Palestinian refugees. The jumbled camp sprawled before me contrasted sharply with the opulence of Amman.

The residents of the camp live in tents such as these.

“When did they move here?” I asked Rami, taking in the haphazard collection of cement, rusted metal and livestock.

“Some time close to occupation,” he answered, matter-of-factly.

: Rami visiting with the village leadership

“In the ‘40s?!” I gasped in reply. I shuddered at the thought. Here sat generations of refugees—children born into this world as displaced people—living in what was supposed to be a temporary settlement. Their refugee status prevents them from attaining Jordanian citizenship, but they can’t return to Israel either.

Just a Visit

Kids emerged from homes and tents as we pulled up and swarmed Rami. He lit up immediately and greeted them all. Next, they ran up to Julie and me, offering sweet, cautious hellos.

“Umm…ezmee Laura. Ma e…ma ezmek?” I sheepishly asked one little girl. They all cocked their heads to one side.

“Shu essmek,” whispered Julie. She then turned to the group and explained my incompetence. They nodded in acceptance and welcomed me with whatever gestures they could. We continued in this way while Rami chatted with the local chambion.

Kids playing in village.

Then we left. We didn’t leave anything in the village. We didn’t come with some solution or aid for the people. We just went for a visit and left. To an outsider, it would have looked insignificant, but our visit added another layer to a slower, grander process of bringing change to the children and adults we met.

It starts with a relationship.

The Process

Relationships rule in Jordanian culture. The initial, “Welcome! Sit here. Drink this. Visit my home,” continues to surprise me as an American who’s used to a slower warm-up, but beyond the rapid welcome comes the slow, gradual build-up of an actual relationship.

Rami with the area chambion.

The same principles transfer to all aspects of life here. An organization like Global Hope might want to answer the call of villages to start community centers or goat projects, but the villages don’t want to sign on with anyone who walks up waving a clipboard.

To partner with rural villages, Global Hope needs more than material resources. They need a good reference, time and above all, trust.

The process starts with the chambion. The chambion is a local leader who looks out for the well-being of the people of his region. Most of the chambions Global Hope partners with are Christian pastors who’ve spent many years in their area of service.

The chambion knows the situation of his area, and he suggests possible partnerships to Global Hope. With his blessings, Global Hope is able to begin visiting the leader of a local village—the man of peace (this is Biblical: check out Luke 10:1-7). From there, the partnership begins.

Slowly Slowly

Months from now, after dozens of visits and conversations, Global Hope will partner with this village as it already has with six others in Jordan. They will develop a plan with village and regional leaders to address key needs in health care, education, income generation and nutrition. They will try to help break the cycle of poverty while bringing back dignity to people made in the image of God.

Global Hope is working for a better future for kids like these guys from the village.

The process takes time. It defies the logic I’m accustomed to—my culture says if I work faster or take less time to rest, things will get done. But that’s not the case here. There are no shortcuts in building relationships.

Things must move shwei shwei—slowly slowly—allowing time for connection. In the meantime, Global Hope can learn more about what the people of the village have, what they want and how to move forward as partners.

And shwei shwei, they will walk together.

This is part two of an article about a short-term trip I led to the slums of Nairobi.  To read Part I, click here.

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We Take Requests

The second thing we did differently is a lot more important than it might look at first glance:  Everything our team did to help was based on requests made by our host ministries (for example, the topics we covered at the business seminar were suggested by Pastor Fred).

We didn’t come in with xyz initiative and say, “tell us how we can make this happen.”  We came in with open hands and said, “tell us how we can help you!”

Hearing the stories of small business owners in slum communities allowed our team to see how deep the issues of poverty really go.

The best example of this came from the financial commitment the guys on my team decided to make at the end of the trip.  After seeing the work of Tumaini Church and hearing about the church’s plans for building a new sanctuary/classroom to reach more community members and students, we decided as a team to commit to fully funding the project.

What would a trip to Kenya be without goofing around with kids?

We didn’t offer money with a list of preconditions attached.  We didn’t come in with the answers to all of Kibera’s problems.  We simply heard what a local organization was doing to restore their community, heard their dreams for the future and decided to help bring that future just a little bit closer to the present.

Partnering with the Long-Haulers

Third, we looked for ways to partner with people who will be doing this work long after we have gone home.

As Americans, it is all too easy for us to throw our energy and money into “quick fixes.”  We want to see results now! But our obsession with immediacy can often end up causing great harm over time (e.g. Feeding hungry people by donating tons of free rice, only to watch the local rice industry shrivel due to a lack of business…).

By sponsoring the construction of Tumaini Church’s new sanctuary, we are helping Pastor Fred and his team to do things their way.

Learning about the realities of poverty from inside a small pork butchery.

Will it be a state-of-the-art facility? Nope.  Will it be a perfect multi-purpose building that will solve every problem faced by the church in one fell swoop?  Nope.  But will it be a sustainable project thought up by Tumaini Church itself and constructed using local labor and materials?  Absolutely.

Beyond Emotions

Finally, we worked hard to develop concrete “next steps” so that we can continue our engagement long after the emotions fade.

Short-term trips are the breeding ground for broken promises.  “I will never take clean water for granted again!”  “I will always remember this moment when I go grocery shopping back home.”  “I will stay in touch with my new friends forever.”

The fact is, real life makes it hard to run at the same emotional high we had while standing in the middle of a slum.  And more often than not, it doesn’t take too long before we find ourselves right back where we were before the trip.

Tumaini Church’s current building. The new one will be three times as big and will allow them to add 90 students to their elementary school!

To counter that reality, my team took several steps to keep our level of engagement high.

First of all, as I mentioned above, we committed to fully funding Tumaini’s building project. That money isn’t going to raise itself!  It’s going to require each of us to pull our friends and families into the life-change with us for months after returning home.

Second, we “friended” our Tumaini buddies on Facebook and committed to keep each other accountable about staying in touch and praying for them.  It helps that our Kenyan friends like Vincent are really great about keeping relationships alive.

Finally, we came up with an exercise that will undoubtedly keep our hearts and minds in the right place.  In November, the guys in our group will try to live out the command to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” quite literally.

For 30 days, we will give away $1 for every $1 we spend on ourselves (that includes rent, food, utilities… everything!).  Not only will it help us to be more generous, it will help us to think more carefully about how we spend our money as well.

All of these things will allow our trip to continue changing us even after life has returned to “normal.”

Our team (clockwise from top left): Me, Jeff, Dave, Beau, Coty and Cameron.

Who’s Next?

So there it is.  My first attempt at leading a “new” kind of short-term trip… Was it perfect?  Nope.  Did I avoid every pitfall mentioned in When Helping Hurts?  Probably not.

But did I fulfill the mission of World Next Door by getting suburban Americans involved in social justice without doing more harm than good?  I really think so.

With that in mind, there is one question I need to ask: Who’s next?

Many short-term “missions” trips end up doing more harm than good.

There. I said it.  As American Christians, we spend millions of dollars every year sending people around the world to “help.”  But these well intentioned teams often end up playing right into the systems of injustice that keep people locked in poverty, helplessness and despair.

Well then. That’s a cheery opening to an article, isn’t it?

I apologize.  I am just really fired up right now.  For two reasons.  One, I recently finished an incredible book called When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor… and Yourself.  It is a must read.

Can American “suburbanites” spend time in a place like Kenya without doing more harm than good?

In the book, the authors explain something I’ve been learning firsthand on all my local and international trips for World Next Door.  Our good intentions are not enough.  If we’re not careful, we can end up harming the very people we’re trying to help.

The book puts into words thoughts that have been developing here on World Next Door for years (Don’t believe me? July 2009, September 2010, April 2011…). Reading it was a huge confirmation that we’re on the right track with our philosophy of ministry.

Our primary objective was to learn.

The Second Reason

But I said I’m fired up for two reasons.  The second reason?  I just led a short-term trip team made up of American businessmen. I took them into Kibera Slum in Nairobi, Kenya for a week of intense experiential learning and discovery.

But wait just a minute, Barry.  I thought you said that short-term trips were bad!

Ah, but that’s exactly why I’m fired up.  This was no ordinary “missions trip.”  This trip was a new kind of short-term trip. One of a growing number of trips that don’t fit the usual mold… One that leaves both the trip participants and the ministries we came to visit stronger and better off than before.

I’ve been on several of these “new” kind of short-term trips through my church, Grace Community in Noblesville, IN, but this was my first attempt at designing, organizing and leading one myself.

And let me tell you… From everything I can see, it was a huge success.

——-

Hearing the stories of amazing leaders like Jane Wathome of Beacon of Hope was central to our trip.

“So,” you might be asking. “What made this trip different?  How were you able to bring American businessmen to Kenya without doing more harm than good?”

Good question. Let me try to briefly explain how our trip attempted to break the mold…

Meet the Team

Our team was made up of young businessmen who have been in a discipleship group together for a couple of years. I joined the group about a year ago.  When our leader, Jeff, asked what we wanted to do for our annual team retreat this year, I threw out a crazy suggestion.  “Let’s go to Kenya!”

I honestly didn’t expect anything to come of the idea.  Until this trip, only a couple of them had ever visited the developing world before, and none of them had been anywhere in Africa, much less inside a Kenyan Slum.

Our team visiting the home of Pastor Fred.

Imagine my surprise when the response was a resounding, “Let’s do it!”

Out of nowhere I found myself responsible for taking four 20-something guys and the CEO of a large international company into the slums.

I wanted the trip to be different, so I got to work designing a tailor-made experience that would be life-changing for the guys but also helpful and honoring to our Kenyan hosts.

It was definitely a challenge, and there was no guarantee that it would work, but in the end I feel that we accomplished our goals…

Learning, Not Doing

First of all, our team spent our time learning, not doing.

Many short-term trip teams travel far and wide with the express purpose of digging a ditch or painting a wall or something.  While this is not necessarily a bad thing, having a big to-do list in front of us can keep us closed off from deeper partnerships and learning opportunities (“What do you mean ‘Take a break so we can meet some of your community’s leaders’? We’re on a schedule here!”).

Our business seminar was mostly discussion-based.

Instead, our team came with little on our to-do list besides “Hear Pastor Fred’s story,” “Learn about leadership from the staff of Beacon of Hope,” “Visit homes in Kibera,” “Pray for Tumaini Church.”  Not exactly a lot to accomplish.  But it gave us the flexibility and freedom to stay open to what God would want us to learn.

Now, we did end up teaching a simple business seminar for neighbors of Tumaini Church in Kibera (arguably doing, not learning), but even that was discussion based: our team asking lots of questions instead of coming in with all the answers…

Want to hear what else we did differently?  Click here to read Part II.