A Flavor for Life

2 years + some odd months and 5500 miles ago, I was sitting around a wooden kitchen table, sharing a bowl of stew not too unlike this with Theresa, Victoria, and company.

It was loud, an Argentine futbol game was playing in the background, and Victoria was nearly sitting on my lap, playing with my hair and asking me questions in between nearly every bite. Theresa’s cousin was hitting on me in Spanish as the table roared with laughter and I feigned “no comprendo espanol.”  And Theresa was sitting back, observing the scene with that amused twinkle in her eye that infused everything about her with such whimsy.

We had just finished another day with Grameen La Plata, and Theresa, one of the borrowers/operators had invited us to a family dinner. Craving a home-cooked meal in the midst of countless meals of Argentine beef (as heavenly delicious as it was), V and I had gladly accepted. And so we found ourselves sitting around that wooden kitchen table that night. And though we were 5500 miles away from home, enjoying a winter night on what would normally have been a summer night back in the States, I felt so at home.

Maybe it is because it is with the lens of nostalgia through which I am reviewing this scene, but there was something about that night, or rather that entire winter, that seemed so magical. We were on the ground, working directly with the people whom we wanted to help, and we were making an impact. We were setting up a new center in Arana, and broadening the reach of the bank. I was meeting with the borrowers, reviewing their businesses, teaching them fundamental business and accounting principles, and helping them generate profit from businesses that had been unprofitable before. And though the knowledge and experience that I could bring to the table at that time was limited to a mere 20 years of life and 2 years of college education, I feel as if I was making more of an impact than I am now.

Sure, there are arguments for both the top-down and bottom-up approaches to providing aid. And you can argue that the slightest impact I am making where I am right now is greater than any impact I had in the small town of La Plata, given that my work now feeds into a larger recommendation that affects thousands. But at the end of the day, I still feel like I have added zero value … that all my effort and work are of no use, or worse yet, that the work I am doing is hurting the very populations I want to help.

So I find myself wrestling with the desire to generate value and to target the delivery of it to the people who need it, with the deep need for stability and security. And though I tell myself that more important than my daily output right now is my level of investment in my arsenal of skill, experience, and knowledge so that my level of future output is magnified, there are far too many days when I just feel like a small girl with big, idealistic dreams, and no potential to deliver on them. Or maybe I am fooling myself, and I have lulled myself into complacency as a cog in this corporate machine and have become dependent on my lifestyle. But, no. There are people who I love who need me right now. And though there are so many out there who need help, I need to support these people first. And that means I need the stability right now. But then why do I still feel so useless at the end of the day?

This is all just a bunch of jibberish, really, and I don’t really know what I am trying to say, besides the fact that I miss Theresa and Victoria terribly. And I miss the Kat who I was when I was there with them, too.