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).

"My daughter and I took a taxi two Saturdays ago and it only cost 10 Leones** per person, now they want 30?" I was frustrated but mostly confused as I told my friend this as we were trying to get across town this morning. I thought I knew the system, and then it changed. But if it changed for me, it changed for everyone. Not only that, but that means prices go up for locals. 

We can say "it's not that much money to us", but it's a different story when taxi drivers ignore locals when they see white people — white people have money, so white people get priority. 

** A Leone ("lee-own") is Sierra Leone's currency, and it is roughly 23 Leones to a US dollar.

I heard "No, it is not 80 Leones but only 50 Leones" as we were buying fabric in the market. Here was a woman running a fabric store and she could have charged us more. But she didn't. I don't know why she didn't. I came back a week later with a friend and she charged him the same price (50 Leones). Then my friend bought more and paid the bill. He needed change, but instead of giving him 10 Leones back, she gave him one of his twenties. They effectively gave him a discount which hurt them, but wouldn't have mattered to my friend. Perhaps she's the wisest of all and knew great customer service and trust will yield many more sales. 

This was my most encouraging money-related encounter. Not because of the discount, but because of the trust that was being created.

Money drives behavior, both for good and for ill. In the first story, as "the finance guy" I was faced not with a money issue, but a heart issue. I was faced with the question, "I care. We should care. But do you care?" It was well-intentioned but short-term focused. 

In the second example, as Westerners, we can upset the local market and drive up prices in the short term, greatly hurting the very people we intend to help! We drive up prices for everyone and harm the poor.

With my third experience, I felt relaxed in her shop. She has a kind heart and a gentle smile. She's in it for the long game. She recognizes she'll make more money by being fair because we bring our friends and family back to her. She's already made hundreds (thousands?) of Leones because. Or maybe she has a gracious, loving, and charitable heart. I'm not sure which — or both.

In these experiences, I have the opportunity to look at the person's heart, to empathize, to care for them. To look them in the eye and hear their story recognizing that there's a heart. A person. A soul. I can ask the very personal question, “What is your name?”

But that doesn't mean handing over a blank check. Nor does it mean paying triple the rate. That's incredibly hard. It is tempting to give more because we have more, and you see desperation. Am I callous? If I barter with the person, am I a jerk, and should we just pay whatever they ask? (The short answer is: no. Pay them what the rate should be — and even that is hotly debated)

Then take it a step further: what do you communicate to the many hundreds of volunteers who come through each year with their pocketbooks, appetite to explore, and desire to heal? This is a surgery ship, after all. What happens if one person gives money to everyone they meet and the next person does not? What if one volunteer pays triple the rate for a taxi ride and the next tries to pay the normal rate? Taxi drivers talk — they hear stories of what that one Westerner paid.

It is in learning to do finance by first peering into the hearts of those you serve, not so you can give into this natural guilt we have, but to truly care for the person by thinking first of the economics of dignity before the economics of money. Someday, we will leave Sierra Leone. When we do that, the money source will depart the port. But will dignity leave, too? Or can that stay?