Africa Doesn’t Need Superstars, Just Us
Dead or asleep. That’s where Americans must have been last month if they avoided the increased attention on Africa. Leading up to the G-8 Summit, we saw Live8 concerts, Bono, Bob Geldof, Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, Diane Sawyer and a host of other big celebrities undertaking worldwide consciousness-raising around Africa’s plight.
For good reason. The enormous debt owed by Africa to the industrialized world promises to keep many African countries chained to a cycle of debt service and poverty. The amount of U.S. direct foreign investment on the continent (outside of investment in mining natural resources) makes the African mosquitoes look monstrous. (Actually, the African mosquitoes are monstrous because of malaria, a perfectly treatable and preventable disease that continues to kill 3,000 Africans each day -- mostly children.)
And yet, somehow debt, trade, and malaria seem manageable, particularly when cast in the shadow of the AIDS pandemic in sub-Saharan Africa.
With only 10% of the world’s population, Africa has nearly 65% of the world’s cases of HIV/AIDS. According to the best estimate from UNAIDS, at the end of 2004, nearly 25.4 million Africans were infected with the disease, and each day, more than 6,300 Africans die while 8,500 more Africans become infected. As a result, the continent now has more than 12 million children who have lost at least one parent to AIDS, a number that is growing at an estimated rate of one new orphan every 14 seconds (or five new orphans as you’ve been reading) to 18 million by 2010.
So, like most Americans, I looked at a super-sized set of problems facing the African continent and thought only in terms of super-sized solutions; solutions that only superstars could provide, but not me; not my family. I’m not a callous guy, but even deeply compassionate people, in the face of enormous suffering, will undertake avoidance as a sane option, right? After all, what could I do?
That last question changed my family forever. It started with a simple challenge from my pastor who asked, “what would you do to help the world if I gave you $100?” and exploded into nearly four tons of pennies in our driveway. That’s right, four tons of pennies!
As with many things, my wife and I often encourage our daughters by telling them, “Just start where you are, use what you have, do what you can, and it will be enough.” Somehow, pennies seemed like the place to start. First, we had a lot of pennies. Second, it occurred to us that if we had so many pennies, others might as well. So, we set out in pursuit of the truly insane goal of collecting 25.4 million pennies -- one penny for each person estimated to have died of AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa as of the end of 2004 – and displaying them on World AIDS Day.
From the very beginning, the undertaking seemed impossible. Then others started doing what they could with what they had. A family held a penny bake sale. Several schools held penny wars. A pre-school collected 1,400 pennies -- one penny for each African child born each day with HIV/AIDS. A group of Stanford University students put penny jars across the quad during the last week of school and raised hundreds of dollars in pennies, coins and bills. A stranger designed a website and suddenly complete strangers were giving us their pennies. Our garage floor began cracking under the weight, literally.
Last week, my wife and I and our two teenage daughters returned form Ethiopia where we worked at a school for orphans and destitute children. As I worked, I saw a tiny piece of Africa’s immense suffering, and it broke my heart. Avoidance would have been easier and less painful, but, oh, what I would have missed: like the smile appearing on the lifeless face of a woman dying of AIDS as someone rubbed her back or my teenage daughter picking up Wendmagegn -- a seven-year-old orphaned by AIDS at age two -- and wrapping him around our hearts. What an incredible joy watching my family giving and growing and doing what they could. Somehow, even in the face of enormity, it seemed like “enough.”
Pennies and backrubs can’t possibly change Africa. Not by themselves and not from one family. Yet, I’ve begun looking at Africa’s plight and asking a different set of questions, like “what if each of us gathered our pennies from our drawers and closets?” (that would be $2 billion) or “what if each of us took the time to learn the name of a child orphaned to AIDS?” and “what if each of us took the risk of letting our hearts be broken by the people of Africa?”
In a world where I don’t have to do it all, only what I can, maybe I don’t have to be a superstar to help Africa. Maybe it only takes each of us starting where we are, using what we have, doing what we can, and it will be “enough.”
For good reason. The enormous debt owed by Africa to the industrialized world promises to keep many African countries chained to a cycle of debt service and poverty. The amount of U.S. direct foreign investment on the continent (outside of investment in mining natural resources) makes the African mosquitoes look monstrous. (Actually, the African mosquitoes are monstrous because of malaria, a perfectly treatable and preventable disease that continues to kill 3,000 Africans each day -- mostly children.)
And yet, somehow debt, trade, and malaria seem manageable, particularly when cast in the shadow of the AIDS pandemic in sub-Saharan Africa.
With only 10% of the world’s population, Africa has nearly 65% of the world’s cases of HIV/AIDS. According to the best estimate from UNAIDS, at the end of 2004, nearly 25.4 million Africans were infected with the disease, and each day, more than 6,300 Africans die while 8,500 more Africans become infected. As a result, the continent now has more than 12 million children who have lost at least one parent to AIDS, a number that is growing at an estimated rate of one new orphan every 14 seconds (or five new orphans as you’ve been reading) to 18 million by 2010.
So, like most Americans, I looked at a super-sized set of problems facing the African continent and thought only in terms of super-sized solutions; solutions that only superstars could provide, but not me; not my family. I’m not a callous guy, but even deeply compassionate people, in the face of enormous suffering, will undertake avoidance as a sane option, right? After all, what could I do?
That last question changed my family forever. It started with a simple challenge from my pastor who asked, “what would you do to help the world if I gave you $100?” and exploded into nearly four tons of pennies in our driveway. That’s right, four tons of pennies!
As with many things, my wife and I often encourage our daughters by telling them, “Just start where you are, use what you have, do what you can, and it will be enough.” Somehow, pennies seemed like the place to start. First, we had a lot of pennies. Second, it occurred to us that if we had so many pennies, others might as well. So, we set out in pursuit of the truly insane goal of collecting 25.4 million pennies -- one penny for each person estimated to have died of AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa as of the end of 2004 – and displaying them on World AIDS Day.
From the very beginning, the undertaking seemed impossible. Then others started doing what they could with what they had. A family held a penny bake sale. Several schools held penny wars. A pre-school collected 1,400 pennies -- one penny for each African child born each day with HIV/AIDS. A group of Stanford University students put penny jars across the quad during the last week of school and raised hundreds of dollars in pennies, coins and bills. A stranger designed a website and suddenly complete strangers were giving us their pennies. Our garage floor began cracking under the weight, literally.
Last week, my wife and I and our two teenage daughters returned form Ethiopia where we worked at a school for orphans and destitute children. As I worked, I saw a tiny piece of Africa’s immense suffering, and it broke my heart. Avoidance would have been easier and less painful, but, oh, what I would have missed: like the smile appearing on the lifeless face of a woman dying of AIDS as someone rubbed her back or my teenage daughter picking up Wendmagegn -- a seven-year-old orphaned by AIDS at age two -- and wrapping him around our hearts. What an incredible joy watching my family giving and growing and doing what they could. Somehow, even in the face of enormity, it seemed like “enough.”
Pennies and backrubs can’t possibly change Africa. Not by themselves and not from one family. Yet, I’ve begun looking at Africa’s plight and asking a different set of questions, like “what if each of us gathered our pennies from our drawers and closets?” (that would be $2 billion) or “what if each of us took the time to learn the name of a child orphaned to AIDS?” and “what if each of us took the risk of letting our hearts be broken by the people of Africa?”
In a world where I don’t have to do it all, only what I can, maybe I don’t have to be a superstar to help Africa. Maybe it only takes each of us starting where we are, using what we have, doing what we can, and it will be “enough.”
posted by Todd at
9:51 PM
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