And the Award Goes to...

Last Friday night, I headed to my parent’s house for my weekly visit. After a delicious meal of taco goodness, the rents and I sat down to watch the news. We tuned in to watch a story on the Governor General handing out numerous medals of bravery to honor ordinary Canadians who had put themselves at risk of injury or death in an attempt to help someone in need. This (as the news often does) fueled a debate in the living room.

“Dad” I asked, “would you accept an award for helping someone in need?”

“I don’t think I would” he responded. “I don’t think I should be given recognition for something I’m supposed to do, to help someone.”

Of course, this response raises another intellectual query. Are we supposed to help someone? Is it our responsibility? (For those of you who know me and/or have read this blog, I think you know my obvious answer to those questions).

Then my mom said, “of course I would hope I would help someone in a situation where they were in danger and in need of support. But, let’s say someone was in trouble in deep water; of which I have a great fear. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do. Would I be paralyzed by fear?”

“Well, I hope you wouldn’t be judged for not helping in a situation like that, where your capabilities couldn’t warrant helping the person” my dad responded. “But for someone who could help, who did have the ability to assist that person, why should they receive a medal? Why should they receive recognition when they thought they could/should help?” he added.

 “Well, I can’t imagine these people are acting in such a way to receive a medal or recognition” my mom responded. “People often just react in the moment. So, if someone thought a person deserved recognition for their bravery, why shouldn’t they accept the award? Especially if they acted when no one else did? I think I would accept it” she stated.

After listening to the debate, my first thought was this:

 “Well, I think that by awarding people for acts of compassion or kindness, we are telling society that these actions are ‘extraordinary.’ That helping someone in need is not normal. I think that’s the wrong message to send; the idea that it’s only ‘special’ people that do these acts. When frankly, we are all capable and should all be willing to step up to the plate when people are in danger or in need of support.” 

But, then again, perhaps these awards demonstrate to society that we can also change; that if ordinary people are capable of such actions, perhaps I am too. I agree people’s stories need to be told. I get inspired by peoples sacrifices; by their willingness to go beyond places I have gone. But do these awards cause people to act?

An interesting debate to say the least. Do we award acts of compassion, or ‘bravery?’ Or, should society realize that helping people shouldn’t be looked at like a choice? That awarding people for those acts creates a sense that compassion isn’t a part of humanities framework.  What are your thoughts?

Patience: A Virtue to Passion

I was surfing the big news outlets as I do every morning; BBC News, CNN, CBC, Globe & Mail, Huffington Post, etc. Of course it’s all the same; most of it crap I don’t care about. Headlines about Herman Cane and his pizza empire, new iphone released (ok, I care about that one a little bit), and how Michelle Obama likes to shop. I find it can often take a concerted effort to uncover stories of true meaning; stories that demand compassion; especially if these stories are no longer in the “spotlight.” I’m sure this isn’t news to any of you (no pun intended). The media is quick to move from one story to the next. They need to stay competitive with the other news agencies. They need to grab our attention with the next big scoop. Again, we are all well aware of the news cycle. For example, remember the protest in Syria? Some (certainly not all) media outlets report that 3000 people have died in the protests since they began. Oh, how about that famine in East Africa? Well, took some effort but I found an article from yesterday saying that 750,000 people, many of them children, are still facing a death sentence. Earthquake? Haiti? Ring a bell? And, as many of you know, the HIV/AIDS crisis in sub-Saharan Africa is something close to my heart. Thirty-five hundred people died of AIDS related illnesses in Sub-Saharan Africa yesterday; today; tomorrow…


We know these stories. We are all impacted and have some degree of compassion toward them in some way or another; whether it is just simply listening to the story on the radio, donating to a certain cause, or actually participating on the ground to support one of these initiatives. But, for most of us (myself included) we get inspired to act, participate, engage in the story, but like the media, our curiosity and concern quickly fades and is sparked once again by the next “big thing”. Many people may blame the media for inducing this psychological indifference. However, I would argue that the way the media operates is a product of human instability. Perhaps the media has taken advantage of this human shortcoming, but it’s ultimately our choice to continue to fight for a cause or injustice or to move on to the next hot thing. And frankly, I feel we are doing ourselves a major disservice by not giving more time to something that has given us that initial spark of curiosity or fervour. I truly believe our passion lies in those moments but we don’t give ourselves enough time to develop them.

People are always saying in one way or another, “find your passion, and live it out.” I personally believe in this statement, but people don’t allow things to grow and mature within them long enough to discern their true passion. I wonder if we have passed over our true “calling” because of this. Our search will be a never ending road if we believe a continual expanse of excitement will be the secret that opens the door to our life purpose. Of course we need to have emotions of joy and happiness to show us our passion is real, but don’t confuse that initial rush or excitement with those deeper healthy sentiments.

If we really gave ourselves a chance to fight through the urge to move onto the next story, I feel our sense of calling or purpose would reveal itself and be bigger and brighter than the next “big thing” ever could.

And, perhaps the media will shine the spotlight a little longer on stories that require compassion and will slowly shift the headlines from a story on what Tom Cruise had for breakfast, to a story that 15,000 children died today because they likely didn’t get breakfast.

Riots and the Hunger for Community & Compassion

As a Calgary Flames fan I thoroughly enjoyed watching the Vancouver Canucks get shut out in game 7 of the NHL Stanley Cup Finals on Wednesday night to the Boston Bruins. I was not looking forward to hearing “Vancouver Fan” gloat about their victory all summer long. After the game however, I was shocked to see riots erupting in Vancouver’s downtown streets. I was sure that the city would have learned its lesson after going through the same process in 1994 after the Canucks were defeated in a game 7 Stanley cup finals; this time to the New York Rangers. It didn’t even cross my mind as I watched Zdeno Chara, The Boston Bruins captain hoist the Stanley Cup over his head that outside the arena, destruction ensued. Why was this happening I thought? Frustration? Mounting pressure finally released? Was it a select few who were actually leading the charge when it came to looting, destruction and violence? Yes, I believe it was. However, what I couldn’t understand was the hundreds, if not thousands of people encouraging this behaviour; standing by and chanting for the destruction; rallying for the damage of property. What causes this many people to participate in something that seems so out of character in their everyday lives? I do understand that a large number of studies have been done to identify the cause of such behaviour and the psyche surrounding it. Perhaps what I am about to discuss has been researched, however I still think it’s important to examine.

Over the past few months, I have been looking into the idea of compassion (or lack thereof) in our society. As someone who works in non-profit work, I am surrounded by people working and volunteering daily for our community. But how do we get society as a whole involved in community on a grander scale? How do we engage the masses to lend support to causes they are passionate about? The more I thought about this, the more it came clear to me that I was thinking too much on a macro level. The following thought was brought to my attention at a conference I attended in March. “How do we expect people to engage in community activism if people aren’t willing to stop stepping over people they see sitting on the street as they walk to work every day?” This thought struck me. I live in a city, Calgary, which prides it’s self on being a “volunteer” city. I think there is a huge difference however between being a volunteer city and a compassionate city. In my opinion, Calgary, along with the rest of society lacks compassion. Of course many of us volunteer and support our community in a variety of ways which are extremely important endeavours; but for our society to truly progress, a culture of compassion and real community needs to emerge. The pressure to live for ourselves has compromised the idea of compassion. This pressure, to live for ourselves and to show others our importance and worth, has left compassion in the dust. As a 28 year old, I feel that weight on my shoulders. When I was 21/22 years old, society said it was acceptable to live for the cause and live for others. However, now that I am reaching the age of 30, society expects other things from me. It expects me to worry about my retirement, get a job, get the house, get the car, get, get, get. The rat race has run its course and, it has failed. It’s time for a new ideology to emerge.

I truly believe that my generation is hungry to be compassionate; hungry to live in community; hungry to be who our humanity intended us to be.

As I watched the riots in Vancouver, I watched a group of people’s hungry for that sense of community. It was great to see people coming together Wednesday night, however I think society is to blame for the actions of that community. What I saw was our societal thought process; that living for ourselves is what’s important and other peoples property and self-worth are of no significance. People may argue that this isn’t our culture or think that since volunteers came together and cleaned the streets and “took back the city,” this isn’t who we are. I see this act of volunteering just as I see someone volunteering at the homeless shelter once a year on Thanksgiving. I will not criticize these actions (I was extremely proud to see people come together in this way) what I will say however, is that it is not enough. It is only through the way we think that will change the way we act. It is the little everyday compassionate actions that I believe will start to change our mindset. There needs to be a shift in our ideology. We often burry that compassionate voice within us that so desperately wants to be heard. We don’t want be the one to go at it alone; to be the first one kneel down and have a conversation with that homeless person on my way to work. That’s not... “normal;” not what I’m expected to do.

After watching the riots in Vancouver, a colleague of mine noted the mob would encourage or on occasion, chant for destruction; perhaps the objective would be to see some window’s smashed. Eventually, one, two, or even a handful of people would then build up enough courage to leave the mob and attempt to break a window before once again blending into the crowd.

It’s time our community came together to rally around and chant for compassion; to inspire people to have the courage to leave the mob and step out and have that conversation with someone on the street asking for change. To help that elderly woman cross the street who is too afraid to ask for support. To intervene when a young person is being bullied. To stop and help that single mother whose grocery bags have split open. As we encourage this, I believe we will see more than a handful of people leaving the mob to support; and eventually, the mob will include everyone. For if we continue to believe compassion is something we do not something we are, the crowd of people chanting on the sideline for destruction and encouraging violence will continue to grow.

Compassion is a human trait; ignoring it is a societal one.

Honoured and Remebered

In 2007, I went and spent a year in Africa serving for a non-profit organization fighting the widow and orphan crisis caused by HIV/AIDS. Below is a collection of blog entries describing one of many experiences.

One day in July, I went to go visit my good friends Divine and Emily. As many of you know, Divine is a 9 year old boy who I have been friends with since my first trip here two years ago. Emily is his Aunt who is a home based care nurse in the community I am working in.

As I walked in the door, I noticed that Divine had a visitor. He was a young boy who looked about 7 years old. Emily explained to me that he was a patient of hers. His parents have both passed away and he is living in a very small wooden shack of a house with his Aunt, Uncle, and cousins. He is HIV positive and has severe Tuberculosis. Emily decided to have the boy come to her house for a visit over the weekend to give him a break from his situation. As I introduced myself to him, I noticed how thin he was. I went to put my hand on his back and could feel only bone.

He also had a severe cough. I played with him and Divine for a few minutes and as I left I asked Emily how old he was. Emily told me he was thirteen. I couldn't believe it. Divine is 9 and is larger than him. Emily says that AIDS delay’s children’s development.

A couple weeks later, Emily and I were driving and she asked me if I remembered the boy that had stayed with her. I said of course and she explained to me that his condition was not good and that tests had revealed that his form of TB (tuberculosis) was drug resistant. She explained that he needed to be admitted to a special TB hospital, however he couldn't stay at the one near the community because he had previously stayed there for 7 months and couldn't be readmitted. He was needing to go to a hospital in Middleburg; two and a half hours from here. However, the grandmother and his family did not want this to happen because they didn't have transport money to visit him. Emily was hoping that at least the doctor could provide some things for him including oxygen to keep him comfortable if he had to stay home. It took a few times for Emily to say "keep him comfortable" before I knew what she meant. That's all that could be done was to keep him comfortable.

A week later, Emily told me that he had been placed in the TB hospital in our community. The Middleburg hospital needs there own results before he can be admitted. We are still hoping that he will be able to go there because they can try different treatments to see if any match his certain strain of TB. The results from the test take six weeks. So, he will be in the community TB hospital for the next six weeks where all they can do is keep him comfortable; he is the only child in the hospital. I asked Emily if he will make it six weeks. She responded by saying, "with his condition, only the Lord knows."

I went to go visit him with Emily and his Aunt. He was so happy to see us. We only stayed a little while but you could tell it made his day. You can also tell that his Aunt loves him very much. Before we left, his Aunt prayed for him. She sang her heart out and prayed with such desperation. She put everything into her prayer. You go the sense she knew she could do nothing else but pray. So, she was going to put her full effort into it.

After another visit, Emily wanted to pray for him. Again, that is all we have left. I went to put my hand on his upper arm and there was nothing there. I could put my thumb and my finger around his arm. I couldn't help but weep. I would be going to see him as much as possible.

After many visits, Nkosinathi passed away at approx. 3:45 am Sunday December 16^th, 2007. I was with him during that last 12 and a half hours of his life and was with him as he left us. I was in a very strange place and am still in denial that he is gone. Over the past five months I have been visiting every week or two and have helped transfer him to get his HIV/AIDS treatment at the local clinic. I keep thinking I will go visit him next week.

Through all of this, I am trying to find the justice in this. I came here to provide that. Where is the justice in a 13 year old boy dying an unbelievably painful death caused by a thing called AIDS and a thing called TB? Two things that were given to him; two things he did not find or ask for.

I have come to one conclusion. There is no justice in that. The funeral is on Saturday. After the funeral I was in rough shape. I didn't know if I could continue to live or work in Africa. At the funeral, his family was amazing. The family let me and Emily be a part of activities that are usually only done with family members. It was very special. At the end, after we had finished a meal, the boy’s grandmother and I had an amazing conversation. By the end, she had told me she considered me one of her son's because of the way that I had treated her grandson. I told her that I had a grandmother at home in Canada but I now considered her my grandmother in Africa. We both wept and gave each other an enormous hug. It was truly amazing how God was able to bring us together and find hope in one another. This young amazing, strong, resilant boy’s name was Nkosinathi. In English this translates to “God with us.” Today being world AIDS day, that’s where our hope comes from. God with us.

This story has obviously stuck with me to this day. I think about Nkosinathi often. Although I shared this story on my blog when it happened, since coming home from Africa I have shared this experience with only a few people. It was very difficult for me to do so. I also didn’t want Nkosinathi to become just another story or a tool to use to explain the devastation that AIDS is having in Africa. He deserved to be honoured to be remembered for the incredible young man that he was. There is obviously much more to this story which I haven’t shared in this post and would be more than willing to share it with anyone that is interested because what I have realized is that by introducing him to you, I am honouring him. The organization I have worked with says they want to reach 100,00 orphans, but we need to do it one by one. So today as we recognize world AIDS day, please remember that these are not stories, these are children and each one of them needs to honoured and remembered.