The 30 Hour Famine has come and gone yet again. And all us campers have trotted off home with a sigh of a relief and a resounding "I survived!"
I've loved the idea of the Famine since I first heard of it in 07. It seemed a more relevant way of collecting funds than the usual jogathons or walkathons we did in school, plus it had the added benefit of creating not just factual awareness, but the actual experience of the plight of the people we were to help.
Every year, the organizers prepare a package of educational materials, including games, videos and presentations by their advocates and ambassadors in an attempt to expose the campers to what children today experience, living in war- or poverty-stricken areas. As a whole, these are superb as they highlight not just the stark reality of their plight, but they also take on a positive spin, showing us what can and is being done to fight it.
This year, though, my education came not directly from the content of the Famine, but how people were reacting to it, myself included. It's possible that not being on the committee this year (and thus, freed from the distraction of worrying about what needed to be done etc.), and being a volunteer instead of a camper, allowed me a little more time to observe and reflect on what went on. All these reflections are in retrospect, though, because actually being in the experience makes it tough to think beyond what you, personally, are experiencing (hence a HUGE kudos to World Vision for the experiential games -- probably the best learning tools of the whole camp!).
Sympathy, Not Empathy
One of the first things I realized once my brain kicked back into gear was how, although the camp was designed to help us feel what these people go through, my primary feelings were those of sympathy, not empathy. That is, while I appreciate and am horrified by the conditions so many people live in, I still couldn't put myself wholly in their situations. Why is this so?
I believe the purpose of having the Famine in the first place was to transport donors/campers INTO the world of these children, to make us live a day in their shoes. The problem for me was rather simple -- it was extremely difficult to imagine living a life that's a daily struggle for survival, simply because sitting in an air-conditioned hall, with clean water readily available, knowing the St. John's Ambulance
I also feel that the activities, while superb, actually created a situation where people were so distracted they forget about being hungry. I know that as a volunteer/committee member, the only times I ever felt hungry or tired or cranky was when I didn't have anything to do. How reminiscent is being busy all the time of what happens on the streets? Do people have the luxury of being distracted from their empty stomachs? I understand wholly from a marketing POV, and in the interest of safety and whatnots, why the campers are kept as comfortable as possible, with as little time to be bored as possible. 400 bored, hungry people would be rather difficult to deal with. However, again, these things could be brought into focus, helping people see that even though we're fasting for a "long" period of time, what we're going through barely even begins to scratch the surface of what people really living in poverty have to face.
Focus - What Are We REALLY Doing?
Another thing I was doing was grumble -- too cold, too tired, too loud... In retrospect, these are exactly the kind of feelings that should have been examined and brought to the fore. Instead of thinking about how to improve conditions for subsequent camps, these should be the sort of things that actually make us go, hey! We're given a chance to know what sleeping on a street with no warmth or bed is like, what people who have to work long hours with minimal sleep have to go through, how being homeless or poor means we have no control over the noises that invade our personal spaces -- night clubs,
At the concert - the final stretch - I know food kept crossing my mind, where to go, what to eat. How much to eat. But in retrospect, I think pushing away thoughts of food in those moments, and not indulging in them to the point of planning where to go, should be the ideal thing to do. Why? Because it immediately draws a huge line between us, privileged campers, and the poor. Because the poor don't have that option. They don't have the luxury of thinking, "Okay, so I've fasted for 20 odd hours now, what shall I have as a reward?" So in keeping with the spirit of the camp, I think we should avoid talk of post-Famine food binges and the thoughts on it pushed aside as far as we're able. Otherwise, we lose the plot in the last few hours, and that really is a shame!
Interestingly, this year the countdown started 10-15 minutes AFTER 4 p.m. And of course, I started doing this.. "4.01 p.m. -- eh? Still singing?? .. 4.03 p.m. -- aiyo, faster la!!! .. 4.07 p.m. -- whhaaaat?! Another song??! .." And so on. People were waving their bottles and bread in the air, most wondering why the concert was dragging on...But once again -- another lesson learned: why should we expect ANYTHING, when our purpose for doing the Famine is to live in the shoes of people who live day by day on faith, who cannot afford to have expectations, especially when it comes to their next meal. We grumble because we had 15 minutes added to our fasting time. What if we suddenly had to wait for days?
And so. Another lesson learned from my own sense of entitlement -- this is MORE of what sets us apart from the poor, and what should really makes us realize that we are beyond privileged just to be able to CHOOSE to do a Famine. Why grumble about what happens IN the Famine if we've voluntarily chosen to try to live like a poor person on the street? (And another thing: poor people don't get to see their favorite stars in concert at all, let alone for 4 hours running!!!)
Not Proud, Humbled
Lastly, I know that having completed the Famine leaves most people (myself included) with a sense of accomplishment, with the idea that "I survived!" But when I actually thought about it, I find that I could no longer feel proud of myself. Instead, I feel relieved and HUMBLED. Why? Because I struggled to do in 30 hours, what CHILDREN do for days and days. THEY are the survivors, not me. I am merely a spectator, let into their world for a flash of time, and so for me to feel like I accomplished something - while very normal and human - is missing the point a little. We came for the Famine, not to think about ourselves or focus on ourselves, but to understand and empathize with the people we are trying to help, to educate ourselves so we can offer the right kinds of assistance, and not waste effort and resources on what we "think" people need, but rather getting down to the ground and learning what they would really benefit from.
The only way we can actually do any of the above is to keep our thoughts focused on THEM. Any situation we encounter within the duration of the camp should be experienced and interpreted within the context of WHY we chose to do the Famine in the first place. If the point was to learn, then our comfort, our needs and expectations must be secondary to this incredibly humbling, worthwhile experience.
I'm grateful for this year's camp. It's taught me so much about myself, things that I'm not proud of, things that I'm now aware I take for granted. And also the home truth that if we want to actually start to help others, we need to wrench our focus away from ourselves and really take a look at our surroundings. The trick now is to continue to keep that focus once we're back in our bubbles.
