Money, Day Crew, and a Port Worker Named Max

A brief update:

I'm diving into the finance role and really enjoying it. It's emotionally tough. We hire day crew for roles such as drivers, housekeeping, galley, translators (there are 16 people groups in Sierra Leone, all with their own languages(!!)), etc. Some roles must be locals (translators or those who help us understand the culture), and many to fill the gaps in volunteer numbers.  In all of this, we pay them very well comparatively, but it's still low compared to Western standards. If we pay them too much, we completely upend the economic environment because of what we've created. And then we'll leave in 10 months, leaving the country worse than when we came. So we work to mitigate that by: 

1. Paying them above average, 
2. Giving them experience (think internship), 
3. Helping them get a certificate (such as culinary) to get a good job in town, and
4. Helping them with a savings account to have money for when the ship leaves

So I love it, but I also deal with a lot of western guilt ("why aren't we paying them more? Why don't we do more?"). However, sometimes, the questions go beyond the day crew.

Two weeks ago, a port worker who likely earns $1 a day (maybe $2 if he's amazing) moving concrete powder by hand asked me for food and money. He was pretty thin and he gave me his story of being Liberian with no family. His name is Max. I had the food in bag and money in my pocket. But once we start doing that, the ship becomes a target, leading other people to come to the ship for aid as there are hundreds of port workers. It's really hard to say no to someone when you have the means and can make a short-term difference but create long-term negative consequences.

I'm not saying the way I'm doing it is right, but it's what I did. Life is full of second guesses and second chances. 

If you want to join along in this adventure of figuring out what aid and development look like and should look like, a very helpful book that I read last spring is "When Helping Hurts" about all the nonprofits and governments who provide foreign aid or relief, but end up creating disastrous outcomes because of creating dependency instead of dignity and independence. It's not just sad examples, though. It also has encouraging stories and good principles for how we can truly help a person, not just in the short-term but in the long-term, too. I've found many of my emotions are driven by pity for a person, and that can debase a person and efface their dignity if I simply give a handout. I'm not appreciating them as a person, I don't appreciate their talents. I just give money because of a sad story. That's a no-win situation. However, a joy-filled alternative has been seeing day crew work hard, get paid, and retain or gain their own personal dignity and value as a human. People are worth more than $1 or $2 a day — they have ontological value by being made in the image of God. If we can see that, if they can see that in themselves, how much more value is a person's dignity than another person's pity and dollar?

Finance, Sierra Leone, and Hearts

"How can they survive on that? We should do something about that" were the words she used at the breakfast table after I told her some of our day crew* spend up to two hours in a taxi or motorbike and spend nearly half their day's wage to get to the ship and back. 

So, what do you do with a question like that? Do you argue back? Agree? Blame "the system"? Start helping people from your own wallet?

*Day crew are hired as translators, deck crew, galley, engineering, drivers, and other roles. They are phenomenal people — funny, courageous, always smiling, and love coffee (just like you and I).

A life in two worlds

Warning: If you were hoping for cute, pretty pictures, stay tuned for another day (or ask Jackie).

Lauren, my oldest daughter, and I went into town yesterday to explore the fabric market and try a bakery we’ve heard of called Crown Bakery. We walked out of the industrial port (you can imagine what an industrial port looks like), up to the central street that connects the town to grab a keke (a three-wheeled taxi…it is between a small car and a motorcycle) into town (3 kilometers). As we drove, we were both quiet. She observed and I wondered why our driver was taking us the long way around (I almost showed him Google Maps to say “do you even know where you are going?!” After hearing stories from other Mercy Shippers who had drivers take an hour when it should have been 20 minutes). We arrived at Crown Bakery, paid our pre-negotiated fee (bartering is necessary here!), and went into the bakery. Lo and behold, the driver knew the fastest route there, though not the most direct, which happened to be highly congested.

Outside, it was hot, humid, and smelly, and the term “overstimulating” would be an understatement, with all the sellers hawking their wares and people talking or yelling at each other. The mosque was around the corner, which made that area “less” loud. 

As we stepped into the bakery, it was hushed. It was disorienting to go from diesel fumes and constant honking to…. silence. Jarring. We bought a chocolate croissant and a custard-filled donut for the equivalent of $4 USD), said tenki (“thank you” in Krio), and walked out to the bustling road, paying full attention to the cars, motorbikes, and kekes. Avoiding to not get hit all the while.

I’ll tell stories of the fabric market later (including when the guy stepped off the side of the alley and peed toward the bay in full view of the market).

What captivated my attention were the questions that filled my mind. Some of these show my lack of worldwide travel, and I hope to never lose these questions in becoming a more “seasoned” traveler. If you’ve traveled in poor or developing countries, perhaps these can reignite some of your own questions and reflections. If you’ve never traveled outside of developed countries, I encourage you to consider it as an opportunity for learning. With that, here are some of my questions:

1. How can people who make $1-2 a day be this happy and content? I've met content men working 12 hour days, 6 days a week for the equivalent of $65 a month. A month.
2. What do my kids see as they see these families have dirt floors, maybe running water, and wash their shoes in the ditch water coming down the hill? 
3. What does a conversation with my kid look like to say, “You have a lot. Just look around!” Without beating them with guilt?
4. A well-balanced meal or a sugar high: With the money we’re bringing in, we’re making a massive impact on the city of 1 million people (Freetown, Sierra Leone). How can this short-term 10-month docking create long-term, sustainable economic and spiritual growth? NGOs (Non-Governmental Organizations) often “help” in the short term but can leave a people or country far worse off.
5. We hire day workers for the ten months to come on the ship as translators, help keep the ship operating, be hospital chaplains, drivers, and many various roles. How could we look at this as a ten-month mentorship program without creating a “White Savior” dilemma? (Not all Mercy Shippers are white, but there are quite a few)
6. Can I help? Many nonprofit volunteers, missionaries, pastors, and NGO workers burn themselves out. There is no shortage of need. Desperation looks you in the eye every day. Walking down the street a guy stopped Jackie asking for help because of his left eye. Patient selection was completed weeks ago, and there is no more space for eye care patients. What do you do in that environment? You can’t help, you empathize, and you feel helpless in sight of this need.
7. Can you integrate this life? I live in a western ship with a comfortable bed, a window to the bay, access to food, (clean) drinking water, games, coffee(!), internet, Disney+, a gym, and socializing. I am docked in a low-income country, and once I step off the ship, I embrace dusty, cobblestone with open water drains (sewage?), desperation, foreign languages, and road debris. You must be careful where you step to avoid falling, tripping, or sliding. Yet, we also embrace smiles, “Aw yu du?” (How are you?) and “Kushe!” (Hello!), and entrepreneurs who want to sell products because they are taking their responsibility to provide for themselves and their families — they are in it together. 

It is jarring to go between these two worlds. Yet it creates gratitude. Not just for what one has, but for life itself. Not just for healthcare, toothpaste, and good footwear, but a simple heartbeat. I appreciate you joining this journey as you live, too, in your worlds.

Lauren and I walking through town

Looking at the industrial port, with many tin-roof houses badly in need of repair

Photo with our day crew. A very exciting day to welcome them on board!

A morning view looking out over the bay. The lifeboat (orange) is a constant reminder for diligence and that we're at sea

A graceful sunset. A reminder friends back home are approaching mid-day

Opening the Hospital!

Life here on the Global Mercy is getting busy. We have been in Sierra Leone for around 3 weeks now and all the preparation for the hospital to open is completed. The first patients come on board today and the first surgery will be performed tomorrow morning. You may be thinking "What have you been doing for those 3 weeks? Didn't they just do surgery there this past Spring?"

                          Our family representing the USA while sailing into port!

Well, the amount of cleaning, organizing and preparation that needs to be done has surprised us all. We have all been able to volunteer in different ways to help get the hospital open. 

Lauren and other 6-12th graders had fun cleaning floors and walls.

Jaclyn has been helping in the rehab department with cleaning, organizing materials and getting to know her coworkers. 

The hospital also hosted an "open house" last week geared toward kids so they could see what happens downstairs. This was all done in a family friendly way with M&Ms being medicine, gummy bears in patients bellies, etc. 

                    Surgeon Sam scrubbing in for surgery!

                    "What do you think Doctor Sadie?"

        Nurse Lauren learning to take patients blood pressure

Although this is seen as a fun event for kids, it also brought good conversation afterward. Kids saw just how many "stations" patients move through while here (pre-op, surgery, PACU, rehab, etc). Our kids also got excited about how we can visit and play with kids while they are healing. It is easy to move through our days of school, meals, homework, fun with friends and not think about the whole reason we are here-to bring hope and healing! 

Another event I (sadly) did not get photos of was the hospital prayer walk last week. 15 groups of approximately 10 people each went through each room of the hospital and prayed for the people who will work there (doctors, nurses, chaplains, etc) and patients as they serve. It was a special time to show how preparations are not only physical preparations but mental/spiritual as well. 

I'll end this with a few more photos of life here lately-

First day of school!

Lauren while sailing in!

Sadie and new friends

Jeff playing pickle ball on the ship

Sam loves hot chocolate from the cafe

Lauren and new friends

Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, texts of encouragement, etc. We are thankful for all of you partnering with us. 

Love, J^2 L S^2

A reflection of our time in Texas

As we've left Texas and were there for four weeks, relationship building has transformed from theory into practice and necessity. Many of the people at the international headquarters (where we stayed) are those that we will be working with for the next two years — mostly over email, chat, and video calls. I can't just walk over and bring a cup of coffee.

Over those four+ weeks, we:

• Packed up all our material possessions into either storage or 8 duffel bags that flew to Africa with us (thank you Andrew and Amber for the storage)
• Handed over our house keys to our renters (thanks Ron for your help!)
• Flew to Texas (left right before the California heatwaves) and into the humidity of East Texas
• Jeff attended two weeks of Basic Training for ship safety, crowd management, and fire safety (imagine scenarios of sinking ships, unruly crowds, and fires). Some of my [Jeff’s] favorites include:
• Learning I could sweat in a fireman’s suit…just by standing still. In the shade.
• Practicing a crowd management scenario of needing to evacuate 30 guests out of a dangerous area and dealing with loads of frantic concerns. It was still role-play, but boy did it make it real
• Striking contrasts of videos of sinking ships where the captain abandoned ship before passengers, and those captains who stayed on till the last minute (I personally prefer the virtuous captains)
• Attended two weeks of “Gateway” which is Mercy Ships’ two week course on their mission, values, organizational practices, how to act cross-culturally with volunteers across 40+ countries 
• Book recommendation: The Culture Map, by Erin Meyers 
• Began developing relationships with fellow volunteers from The Netherlands, Germany, the UK, Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, Canada, and the USA
• It’s been great for the kids to be around many different languages and cultures — I love watching kids adapt, learn about other cultures and languages, yet they all are still kids and want friendship, love, and relationship. It’s beautiful and that does not change for us as adults, either 
• Invited 40+ fellow volunteers (and kids) over for waffles and coffee on a Saturday morning to build relationships and develop community
• It’s no pizza night, but it was a wonderful depiction of hospitality to people who left their home so they could be in a home and, through that, feel a bit more at home

We then went to Tenerife, Canary Islands where the ship docked for maintenance and its annual mandatory inspections. Here is a brief outlook for what the past and future weeks look like:

• July 27: One-way United Air tickets to Tenerife
• July 28: Arrive in Tenerife and board the ship
• July 29-August 2: Field training (on-ship training…continuation of Basic Training)
• August 8: The ship to depart for Freetown, Sierra Leone
• August 12: The kids to start school (at sea!)
• August 13: Arrive in Freetown, Sierra Leone
• Early September: Begin surgeries!

A delightful welcome as we finally walk into our new cabin, exhausted and yet ready for the adventure!

Looking forward to this book as my night time reading. We received it as a gift from a good friend last winter.

Thanks again for your love, compassion, and partnership. We’re glad to be on this journey with you as we’re getting closer to our destination and purpose. 

“This is the last…”

 “Kids, this is the last _______________________.”

This has been a refrain of ours as we walk our kids (and ourselves!) through these final weeks here in California. 

• This is the last time eating In-N-Out
• This is the last day of school here in California for two years
• This is the last time we’re making bread in our house for awhile

There are plenty of other examples. On one hand, this is tough and sad. On the other hand however, it is freeing as we are creating space for new adventures, a new school (onboard the ship), a new job (volunteer work), and a new rhythm to life. 

As we go through life, it is much easier to hold onto what we have and fear the new or the unknown — sometimes we can be adventurous enough to push through and try. That’s what we’re doing right now. That is, these next two years. There are no promises (“life will be better”, “you will become better”, or “everyone will be happy, healthy, and more mature”). But they are an opportunity. An opportunity for growth, newness, exploration. And risk.

Sometimes a “last” is a disguised door to a “first” or “new”. We can look at these “lasts” with utter sadness and rejection. We could view these “lasts” as opportunities for exploration and ignore the pain. Or we can hold these in tension with mourning and sadness, and also joy with a delight to explore. Health is not one or the other; it is holding both. I hope this encourages you to both step out into something new and also not choke your emotions about what you're leaving behind. It is human to do both.

There are other people going through this, too

Have you ever noticed when your heart rate is up, you tend to forget about other people? Not their existence, but to think from their perspective. 

Two years ago, a Ukrainian girl joined my daughter's class whose family fled the war and moved around the USA. She was at our school for only one year before moving to an entirely new US city (again). I can't help but think about [name redacted] and how she and her parents had fled their war-torn homeland for a new country in search of safety, hope, and love. I think of her and wonder if she's found acceptance, love, and peace.

When life is calm, slow, and running smoothly, we have the capacity to consider what others are going through: their thoughts and even time and the ability to ask, "How are you? But really, how are you?" Contrast that to our rushing around — when we feel anxious or under a deadline. We narrow our vision and get it done. That focus is good. It creates advancements such as putting a man on the moon or developing the smartphone or planting a tree. However, it costs remembering other people. They have emotions, too — those emotions include anxiety, fear, excitement, wonder, anticipation, and dread. 

• Will they accept me?
• (For parents) Will my kids find great friends? Will they be ok? Will they be mad at us for taking them on this journey?
• (For spouses) Will my spouse find a great like-minded friend?
• What will ________ be like?
• Will I regret _______?

We're flying to Texas in July for a month of training and, while some may jokingly consider Texas a foreign country, it is a foreign country to many of the fellow Mercy Ships volunteers who are coming from Australia, New Zealand, the UK, the Netherlands, Germany, The Congo, Kenya, etc. Differences in culture, currency, weather, language, and time zones — and those are only the surface-level differences. What about the way we demonstrate respect, love, courtesy, and compassion? As we prepare for a three-hour flight, those down under must prepare for nineteen hours of flying. Do they know everyone has the same fears, excitements, worries, and anticipations as we do? Do they feel part of the community, or do they feel fear and loneliness as they are pulling up their long-established roots for a season of serving in Africa?

What would it look like to extend a hand like my daughter did to her Ukrainian friend?