Growing up, going to the grocery store with my mom was one of the thing I looked forward to the most. I loved helping her push the cart, helping her find items on the shelves, and trying to convince her to buy nutty-buddies or the candy by the check-out line. I especially loved going to the Fresh Market with her on Saturdays, after an early-morning trip to the Farmer's market. The smell, the music, the little cups of coffee to sample and the fact that the man at the bakery always gave me a free cookie... just a few of the reasons that I would magically find myself at the Fresh Market last year when I was too stressed to do anything but work and peruse the aisles of over-priced delicacies only found at the Fresh Market.
Going to the supermarket in Bungoma is a much different experience.
To give some background, Aurelien is doing part-time consulting work for a research NGO based
in the US is now working full-time for another NGO in Bungoma. I work for a
US-based research NGO. We are by no means making six figures, but are still
doing well by Kenyan standards, probably because the average Kenyan makes about
6000 KSH (60-70$) a month. We pay more than that for rent every month (paying
75 dollar a month for rent and 5 dollars a month for utilities is something I
could get used to) and about that much for food each week. {Side note: It still
causes a bit of a shock to have bill from lunch that’s 50ksh (50 cents). Then I
look around and realized that a lot of people in Bungoma couldn’t afford to spend
50 cents on lunch every day. This type of paradox happens all the time here}.
When we go to the grocery store, and walk through the aisles
filling up our cart with what we would consider relatively basic food, we look
around and see that everyone around us is buying mainly flour, salt and cooking
oil. We purchase the expensive items (imports) or non-necessities like yogurt
and nuts and whatever else we think we’ll eat for the week. When we spent 6000
KSH, we’re spending what a lot of people in Kenya make in a month. Can you
imagine if you were in the US and someone spent YOUR monthly salary on food in
the check-out line of a grocery store? The huge disparity in wealth is
something that’s really difficult to live in/reconcile with. At the same time,
I don’t stop going to the store and buying peanut butter and regular butter and
whatever else I want to eat for the week because I feel guilty about the price
on the receipt. I don’t lower my spending because I’m surrounded by people who
live so modestly. This makes me feel guilty or spoiled.
The problem with this, or the truth that makes me feel even guiltier,
is that I don’t let this guilt affect my habits. I really miss things like thai
food, lattes, and TJ Maxx. I’ve already thought of where I want to go shopping,
what I want to buy, and what meals I want to have when I get back to the US in a
month and a half for Christmas. I feel guilty that I want “things” and $15
meals, and yet I don’t change and just stop wanting them because I feel guilty
and know that they’re unnecessary and that others around me have so much less
than me. When I went to the field for my job and saw a girl who’d been bitten
by a black mamba, a baby that was 9 months old and the size of a 4-month old,
and a woman with a breathing problem that looked like she wouldn’t make it to
the clinic in time to survive, all in one day, I vowed that I should try to
change and not want those expensive things, that I should live simply and give
generously, but the short answer is that I can’t do it. I’ve prayed about it,
I’ve hoped about it, I’ve had conversations with people I look up to about it,
and I can’t change.
Why are we so materialistic? How can someone who is bothered and
saddened by the disparities in income still want over-priced coffee? My friend
from work who wrote another blog post about this type of thing said that her
take-away is that we need to be grateful for what we have and live as
generously as possible. I really agree with that. I don’t think I squealed as
loudly when I saw that baby elephant as I did a few weeks ago when Aurelien and
I discovered the next-best thing to a Frappuccino in Kisumu. I feel much more
grateful for what I have since coming here but know I have a long way to go.
Aurelien and I spend hours cooking to get a decent meal and when we take the
first bite, we feel so thankful for it. But gosh do I have a long way to go.
And can we be grateful while still wanting more or am I justifying myself by
thinking that I’m being more grateful when in fact I just need to stop wanting?
Generosity is something I think is more difficult. But even if I can become
more generous, does that justify me still wanting more? Can you be generous and
still give to yourself or are we just lying to ourselves by thinking that we’re
generous when in fact if we’re generous, we will give everything we have? Similar
to the biblical story of the woman who had nothing and gave her only penny, as
compared to the rich men who gave the equivalent of a few dollars but kept so
much.
I’ve always thought that the richness/poverty in the world was a
big balancing act, and that in order for the poor to get richer, the rich have
to get poorer. If this is the case, my wanting more is in direct conflict with
my sympathy for/desire to help those who have less.
Will I still be excited to go to the Fresh Market when I get back to the US and spend 50 cents on almond pillow cookies? Probably!
Thoughts? I certainly don’t have all the answers and would
appreciate some perspective.
No grand conclusion here, just wanted to put some thoughts out
there for whoever (our parents) will read this post.
Love,
Hannah
