Sunday, February 15, 2015

On excess and old underwear

Of all the changes that moving to a developing country brings, one of the hardest for me personally has been dealing with suddenly joining the ranks of the most wealthy in a society.  When first moving to West Africa, I had all kinds of questions, and luckily met some sympathetic and experienced expats to guide me through some of the basics.  How do you respectfully handle children begging?  How do you have someone over for dinner, or give a birthday gift and not feel like you are showing off?

And then, there are some unexpected questions that aren't as easy to ask.  Such as, how do you throw away your old underwear in a country where everyone goes through your trash?

After six years here, I thought I finally had this last one figured out. Our first day in the States on our most recent vacation, the German and I were unpacking at my grandma's house when I removed a grocery bag from my suitcase and successfully threw it away. "What was that?", the German asked.  I matter of factly replied that it was my old underwear, feeling a little bit caught.

"What do you mean, your old underwear?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, my old underwear."

"But...what's wrong with them?" (he sounded a little horrified and grossed out at this point)

"Well...the elastic is shot in those, and those I have had since high school, and then there are the huge ones from right after I had Bean which had better never fit me again, and the leopard print ones my mom gave me that are just...wrong."

"And you didn't throw these away at home because...?"

"Because I know someone is going to check it out to see if it is still useful.  I can't explain it.  It just makes me uncomfortable."

"Wait a minute.  You just spent a month in Germany.  Why didn't you throw it away there?  You seriously carried your old underwear across three continents just to throw it away?"

"Because you guys have 20 different recycling divisions and I didn't want to ask your dad which bag was for old underwear and have this exact awkward conversation we are having right now, with him."

So how do you deal with the feelings that come with having so much excess when surrounded by people who have so little?  Because really, no matter how much I downsize and purge, I still have so much.  And just the act of purging becomes uncomfortable.  Gone is the ease of anonymously dropping off boxes at Salvation Army.  Most people just give the things they want to give away to their house helper or guard, but even then, what do you say?  "I have so much stuff that it is messing up the flow of my house, so here is the stuff I like the least?"

My first time in West Africa was a bit easier.  I moved there single, with two suitcases.  But still, my first day I was hit with how much I have, and how much value there is in what I throw away.  I walked down to the local boutique, a shack the size of a small closet, and bought a potato and a can of peas and carrots for dinner.  After my meal, I brought my potato peels and empty can out to the shared trash can, and not two minutes later watched out my window as a neighbor ran out to grab my empty vegetable can.

This time, we are here with two kids and a house full of stuff.  And man, do we have a lot of stuff.  From talking with my friends, it seems like a lot of us have these feelings of, well, I'm not sure how to label it.  Guilt?  Privilege?  One mentioned that when she asks her house helper to cook with her, she makes sure to pull the meat out of the freezer before her house helper gets there, because she feels bad about how full her freezer is.  Another turned down the consumable shipment they are allowed through her husband's job, because having two years worth of dry goods laying around just didn't feel right when surrounded by people living day to day.

It's like it multiplies while we sleep.

I'm not sure what the answer to it all is.  For now, when I give things away, I have settled on "We no longer need these things.  If you know someone who does, could you please pass them along".  Life in West Africa has definitely made me appreciate our good fortune.  Even our old socks and kids clothes covered in stains that I wouldn't dream of donating back home are needed and wanted by someone here. And living here has definitely opened up my imagination to the dozens of second uses for things I used to thoughtlessly throw away.  I'm not quite up to German recycling standards yet, but I'm working on it.