The Gift That Keeps on Giving

I haven’t written in a while because the topic of this post is extremely difficult to confront. It’s about something that happened while I was back in the U.S., and from the day it occurred, I’ve been struggling with my conscience. My emotions range from shock to shame to disgust about what I’ve done, and the more I try to rationalize or ignore it, the more the pangs of guilt gnaw at my heart.

But now is the time to set my mind and spirit free, to release the shame and emerge renewed and committed to healing.

Here is the source of my secret agony---I spent $261 on a pair of walking shoes while I was in the States.

Actually, it’s not my fault. I blame my friend Ilaina, a brilliant, witty business reporter from NYC. When I visited her in January, I noticed the pair of extremely chunky-looking, curve-soled sneaks she was lacing up, and asked about them. “They’re called MBT’s, and they’re amazing,” she said. In fact, Ilaina lives on 118th Street in Manhattan, and walks to her office on 44th street every day in her MBT’s. Now, if that doesn’t prove those shoes aren’t the best thing since Nancy Ganz Body Shapers, I don’t know what could.

Believe me, this wasn’t a completely reckless purchase for me. I mean, walking is about the only physical activity I do regularly and often, so investing in a good pair of walking shoes seemed to make sense. Plus, I went online and checked up on MBT ‘s so-called “physiological footwear” before parting with my hard-earned shekels. MBT stands for Masai Barefoot Technology. Some Swiss guy (ain’t it always the case that some European culture vulture comes to Africa, steals an idea and makes out like a fat rat with it???) had spent some time in Kenya and noticed the gait of the Masai, who walked long distances barefoot. He designed a shoe that trains the wearer to mimic that rolling, posture-perfect gait.

It’s probably mostly a bunch of marketing hoo-hah, but I gotta tell you, MBT’s are the most comfortable athletic shoes I’ve ever owned. Spending a couple of days in airports recently convinced me of that. Usually, I’m damned near crippled by the end of a long journey, but my MBT’s kept my corns cozy and my arches amiable.

But $261??? Even for me, a rather free-wheeling shopper, that was obscene. One thing I’ll say for myself, I rarely buy anything that’s not on sale. The MBT purchase was the first time in recent memory that I spent full price on a pair of shoes….and a full EXORBITANT price, at that.
Still, it didn’t really start nagging at me until I got back to Gulu. I mean, in the U.S., if you can afford it, and it doesn’t take food out of your kids’ mouths or land you on the streets homeless, there’s no shame in the occasional splurge. Hell, after 4 months in Gulu, I kinda felt like I was entitled to a shopping treat. But after I’d been back in Gulu about a week, Akiiki told me about two young girls who had shown up at the office earlier that day. They were both 12, and had spent the morning knocking on doors at local NGO’s and community groups, pleading for help with their school fees.

Cissy and Stella were absolutely desperate, because the administrators at their Catholic school had threatened to dismiss them unless they could pay the balance of their school fees for the year. Sissy owed about 16,000 shillings, and Stella about 8,000. That’s about $9.40 for Cissy and $4.70 for Stella. Combined, that’s about what I spend for lunch in Washington.

That’s about 1/16th of what I paid for my MBT’s.

The story shocked me even more because the nuns at Mary Immaculate P-7 School were going to boot Cissy and Stella out during final exams. That meant all of their effort to stay in school this year would be meaningless. Both girls’ parents are dead, and they walk miles to get to Mary Immaculate every day. After struggling to get there, often arriving late, the girls wind up falling asleep in class, usually because they're hungry. But even though Mary Immaculate is a private school their families really can’t afford, Cissy and Stella want to stay. Through all the trauma of their young lives, they know the value of a good education. Cissy wants to be a lawyer, and Stella wants to be a nurse.

So those two 12 year old girls did something I probably would have had too much pride and not enough courage to do at 46, even if I was desperate. They started knocking on doors, taking their chances that someone, somehow, could help them stay in school. In a desperately poor country like Uganda, that kind of chutzpah transcends begging. Those girls weren’t pleading for a handout…they were asking for a hand up.

Clearly, they knocked on the right door at the right time. They reminded me that, as had happened so many times in my own life, timing is everything. The great news is that when you never give up, when your persistence and belief in yourself never flags, the timing is always right. I learned about those girls as I was still questioning my sanity for splurging on those MBT’s. I learned about them when I’m facing the most painful, emotionally empty Christmas holiday season of my entire life, a time when the whole concept of giving means nothing to me, because nobody can give me back my beloved sister Julie. But most importantly, I met Cissy and Stella when I’d been seriously considering the idea of a tribute to Julie, a way to honor her courage and commitment to education and learning.

So, Cissy and Stella will now be attending Mary Immaculate P-7 School in 2008 as boarders. Their fees are all paid, and they’ll get to live on campus, as opposed to walking 5 miles back and forth to school each day. And it only cost me about $50 less than 2 pairs of MBT’s.

That thought is giving me a lot more energy than a pair of walking shoes ever could.