Reasons to be Grateful
Philosopher Thomas Hobbes theorized that we are all naturally selfish and concerned with our own self-preservation even if it comes at the cost of others. As Americans we have a sense of security and our basic needs are met. We live in a fortunate country that consumes most of the wealth throughout the world and although our needs are met we still demand more. We fall into a serenity of pleasures regularly and feel the need to always have something better than the person beside us. Whether it is more money, admirable clothes, or a better car, we strive for more than what we need to be content with our lives. We assume the greater amount of possessions we own the more likely is it to be accepted by our peers and the increased chance we have of fitting in with society. Many Americans classify themselves as lower class or poverty stricken because they cannot afford the clothes, car, or house they desire. Unlike many Americans, two summers ago, I was given the chance to view a whole other side of social class and see what it really means to be poverty stricken.
While Hobbes was a brilliant philosopher, the whole population must not have been taken into account when stating all people are naturally selfish and only concerned with their own needs. A small group of 15 high school students, including myself, set track on a life changing mission trip to a small, slum village in Kenya, Africa. Upon arrival to the village we were prepared and told what to expect, but the image we were given was nothing in comparison to what we witnessed. Our small bus dropped us off a short ways from the village where children were playing in a barren field. The young children at play looked as if they had not received a decent meal in months. We noticed that, like the States, soccer was a popular game to play, only there was no soccer ball. Instead kids used crumbled up grocery bags held together by rubber bands. The short walk to the village became harder as we realized most children were not wearing shoes. Before long the stench began to hit us as we grew nearer to the village itself. Though we tried to avoid the stench and act dignified we could not help but all feel a sense of guilt walking into the village. We all had matching North face backpacks and matching t-shirts that stated “Send me Lord, I’ll go.” Our Nike running shoes and gym shorts hovered a cloud of shame over our heads as we realized the village people had tattered clothing and sheet like bags to carry their vegetables for sale.
We were greeted immediately by a young minister from Florida, John Calhoun. Our main question was,