It's Not You, It's Me...

Sausages!

"If we are devoted to the cause of humanity, we shall soon be crushed and broken-hearted, for we shall often meet with more ingratitude from men than we would from a dog; but if our motive is love to God, no ingratitude can hinder us from serving our fellow men." --Oswald Chambers

I spent all morning making high-protein granola bars for the special-needs group.  Since the kids probably don't get much more than nshima (corn porridge), veggies, and the occasional caterpillar; I figured the kids would enjoy the snacks and juice boxes.  


...But no kids showed up...even though the group told me specifically to come yesterday.  Instead, the group's board members met me in the dirt courtyard.


We stared at each other.   I was just dropping by to say hi.  They thought I had an an elaborate agenda.  It. Was. Awkward.  


I gave the group my food items.  They thanked me, but it was like a Christmas gift you hoped was an X-Box, but turned out to be tube socks.  Finally the secretary said what everyone was thinking, "I thought you were going to connect us to some funders."  Translation:  We thought you were going to give us a big fat check.


I asked for some clarification on their plans.  They want to buy a plot of land, build a center for special-needs children, hire qualified teachers and physical therapists, pay for medical care for everyone, purchase a vehicle, and on and on.  I applauded them for their vision, but when I asked them how they planned to fund this, they said, "We want to make and sell sausage.  We need $3,500 for a sausage machine from South Africa."


I love micro-enterprise projects, because enabling commerce is more sustainable than charity.  Teach a man to fish.  Then teach him how to sell his fish, so he can buy bricks for a house. 


But sausage?  Seriously?  There is no refrigeration or a sanitary place for this endeavor.  They'd be selling tubes of E.coli to their neighbors.  That's hardly a get-rich-quick scheme.  


I asked to see some of the proposals they'd written.  A polite "no."  I asked how they'd spend the sausage profits.  "We'll decide as a group."  I asked them for a budget.  A plan.  Anything.  


They just wanted my money.  


This stung.  I said, "Goodbye", and "We'll be in touch," gathered my three children, and walked back to my car.  


The irony is that I've been in their shoes.  I've written countless proposals to foundations.   I've thought many times, "You are rich.  Just give us your money, and don't ask so many questions.  We know what we are doing."    I realize now that a) being rich is relative, and b) funders want to be connected to their projects...much like a marriage.  


So after some thought, I've decided that I need to break up with this group*, which is probably easier said than done.  Thank goodness for Caller ID!


I'm not discouraged, however.  There are many more fish in the sea... including four organizations within 1/2 mile of my home.


*I am working with an American doctor to get treatment for Baby Joseph with the blisters.