Beaumonts On Board: 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:

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.
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?
What does a conversation with my kid look like to say, “You have a lot. Just look around!” Without beating them with guilt?
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.
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)
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.
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.