La Vida Idealist

Children of borrowers

I am talking with a friend about the prevalence of domestic violence in Ayacucho, and frankly, how it seems certain communities are socially accepting of men who beat their wives.  Domestic violence is seen as a solution to keep a woman in line, force them into change or acceptance of change, and most often, it’s a man’s way of releasing pent up anger inside by blaming his wife for all of his problems.  The violence is linked to alcoholism, rampant among men in the community, which then breeds other family-destroying problems such as unemployment and infidelity.  Working in this kind of environment can easily make one disgusted by men (and if it wasn’t for my great husband, I might be there too).  Discussing the stories makes us want to beat the men ourselves – which we know is as ridiculous and senseless as what the men are guilty of.  It’s hard to escape that feeling of wanting to defend a helpless woman and her children, even knowing that violence-begets-violence and that – as cliché as I’m sure it sounds – ‘an eye for an eye just makes the world blind.’

I feel really angry, sad, heartbroken – but mostly just really angry.  I am emotional.  Okay, I am pissed off.  The last charity I worked for, before Kiva, worked with one of the most devastating communities a person can find work with – terminally ill children.  For obvious reasons, we were encouraged to learn the art of not welling up with tears after hearing harrowing stories about the innocent children’s pain.  I found it impossible.  After a year and a half there I could easily still cry at one of the stories I heard on day one.  While I understand the unhealthiness of crying in front of the children, I still would find it hard not to.

I’m grateful for those feelings though, the angry ones, the sad ones, the uneasy feelings and anxiousness.  If it wasn’t for those exact emotions, you better believe these organizations wouldn’t exist in the first place.  Not until you are really stirred by something can you attack it with every battle weapon you’ve got.  It’s about mastering the art of channeling the anger into a relentless ‘I’ve-absolutely-got-to-do-something-about-this’ attitude.  The ‘who’s-with-me’ attitude.  Or the ‘I’m-annoying-people-by-trying-to-get-them-on-board-with-me-but-I-don’t-care-about-that’ attitude (which is basically me… all the time).

That’s why I hope the sad stories keep making me cry and the happy ones keep making me jump for joy.  I wouldn’t be a Kiva Fellow without having had that unrefined emotion, because I wouldn’t want to be.  I’d be somewhere pushing papers, crunching numbers, clocking out, and hitting happy hour.  This life I’m living with a foam mattress on the hard floor, no TV, no microwave, no internet – it isn’t easy but it’s the one that helps me sleep at night.  I love what I’m doing.  And I know I can say that even if today I became a vegetable, I’d be happy with how I’d lived the life I’ve lived.  I may not be the best at hitting the gym everyday or avoiding sweets and curse words – but so far I have lived with purpose, and for that I feel content.

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