idealistic realism.

Good afternoon all,
I guess before I start my ranting about my thoughts and opinions I should preface with what exactly I’ve been doing, how I’ve been filling my time. Though initially I was planning on working in the capital, Freetown, there simply wasn’t any work to do and I was sent with the other international volunteer, the cynical yet endearing Tom, to a more rural town called Kenema. The third largest city in all of Sierra Leone, it is quite small, with only one main road. I like the comparatively quiet atmosphere, I like knowing the names of the few guys who cook me meat on the side of the road for dinner, I like recognizing faces around town, and being called “Jenae! Jenae!”, my new Sierra Leonean name. Heidi was sent here as well, and we all live in our humble abode, with sporadic electricity, cockroaches, rumors of rats who only leave their feces as evidence of their presence, and refreshing ‘showers’ of dumping buckets of well water over our head. With our office in the same compound as our house, our living room often becomes our workspace. We are currently starting two large projects, consisting of implementing workshops on participation in local politics and critical literacy. I was made Project Coordinator of the literacy project, meant to educate and empower local youth in better understanding and engaging in their world. Our first workshop is next week, tackling issues around culture. We also spend time in schools, where we talk to kids about their rights and responsibilities and global issues. Another important project is an amputee agricultural project, where a group of amputees were given land and materials for growing crops for food and income generation.
BUT, aside from all of this excitement and development experience, I look forward to when the chaotic week ends, and I will get spend time with the street boys. Fifteen street boys come to a nearby school compound every Saturday and Sunday where we provide informal education, food, football, and counseling. I was quickly put in charge of counseling, which is in a group setting meant to educate and get them thinking about helping one another, being social supports and protection for each other.
We’ve discussed issues of confidentiality, trust, respect, equality, and empathy. I usually just wing it, and they are always engaged and willing to contribute to the conversation. Last week I requested to talk to them one on one, but because of my apparently obnoxious and glaringly American accent, a local volunteer Musa helped translate. I don’t know why we refer to them as street boys, because they are obviously men, ranging in age from 13-18, they’ve all been living on the street for 5-10 years, fending for themselves for a multitude of reasons, facing a mass of problems. Individually they talked about parents lost in the war, families who deserted them, pregnant and ill girlfriends, fights, empty stomachs, lack of assistance and guidance. They spoke of hopes for a proper education, skills training, foster care, reunification with relatives. They talked about becoming doctors and professional footballers. How could I not love these boys? Not just because of their eagerness to greet me, their gorgeous, sincere smiles, or the fact that they bring my delicious pineapple. I love them because I see the good in them, I hear of their hope for something better. Must we always be so cynical, anticipating the worst, blaming them for actions that have not yet occurred, predicating their delinquent behavior of the future? Tom has already labeled me as naïve (never heard that before), and took the liberty to lecture me on the need to expect the worst so as not to be disappointed in the future. He sees these boys as “money grubbing bastards”, pardon my French (is ‘bastard’ French? Doubtful.) I’ll admit to my naivety, or optimism as I’d like to call it. But I’m willing to risk the hurt this may cause me in disappointment. I’m willing to put my heart on the line for a hope in humanity, a recognition and acknowledgement of people’s goodness, of their desire to seek communion with their fellow (wo)man, to do good, to seek joy, strive towards self actualization, to learn, to grow, to contribute, to be. And why does this ‘idealism’ have to conflict with realism? Isn’t it realistic to believe that we are all made in the image of God, that we are all purely good? It’s one thing to link idealism and naivety, but I’m sick of my optimistic, idealistic view being equated with blatant futility and sheer stupidity. “It’s rubbish” as they often say here. I’d like to believe I think critically, I use wisdom and discernment. I don’t ask strangers to hold my purse, I don’t place my full confidence and trust in everyone I meet, I recognize the horror people inflict, the harm and pain we cause each other. But if we give up on humanity, what do we have? Well that’s enough indignant rambling for one day. Thanks for listening, and I send you all of my love.

“If you are sincere and rational and trust in goodness enough, everything sorts itself out”
-Anne Lammott