The Cost of Living

I have just returned from an evening with a friend sorting and counting packets of nappies, baby wipes, baby food pouches and sanitary towels. L runs an organisation from her home which sends urgently needed supplies to refugees in the various camps all over the Mediterranean. The particular project we were working on was packaging urgent supplies to be sent to the Yazidi girls in Turkey, the Lebanon and surrounding area.

Last week 6 new babies had been born in the camps to 11 and 12 year old mothers. One mother was just 9 years old. Most of the girls had been sold and enslaved. Their attempts to escape are met with such severe physical disfigurement, that they require plastic surgery – not that they will have access to that of course.

In order to ship these supplies out to Turkey, everything has to be counted and itemised. The authorities try to make it as complicated as possible to discourage this type of help. The Yazidi, many of whom are Christians, are considered to be the lowest level of human life. The fact they are girls, makes them lower still.

Photo by Serhii Demchenko on Pexels.com

As I drive home after helping L with the cataloguing, I consider my efforts as just a mere drop in the ocean. I reflect on how an 11 year old could survive in such an environment, let alone without access to sanitary towels or milk for her baby. I feel physically sick and completely useless.

In the same moment in time, there exists a paradox. In the same minute that I drive home unharmed, past advertising hoardings, with my designer handbag containing my credit cards and iPhone on the seat beside me, the superficial nature of 21st century life in England is starkly contrasted against what I know is happening a short plane ride away.

I feel ashamed of my lifestyle, my material belongings and priorities. I can see it all from a different perspective and consider all the things that I call important. I have never had to worry about having a sanitary towel when I need one. When did we become so selfish that we would consider the unavailability of our favourite beverage a disaster? When did we lose touch with reality? Do I need the latest digital devices, clothes, gadgets?

I feel helpless to do anything constructive or of value that could actually change the situation. As I drive home, I resolve the lead a more minimal lifestyle and spend less on superficial pursuits and belongings. I vow to redirect my efforts towards something more worthwhile.

But I know the truth.

My responsibilities won’t allow me to honour this vow – not at the moment at least. Tomorrow I will wake up and I won’t feel as passionately about it as I do in this moment and my life will continue as it did before. I will appease my conscience by packing boxes for L now and again because my reality doesn’t enable me to do anything more.

I admire L’s philosophy. She doesn’t focus on the negative aspects or the vastness of the task or the countless obstacles and risks that come flying at her. She considers the ability to help even just one young Yazidi mother and save the life of her baby to be a success. Within a few weeks this shipment will reach those who need it and they will know that they have not been forgotten, rejected or ignored.

For me, although the help I can offer on a large scale is limited at the moment, I can find ways to make a difference to even just one life through promoting the cause, sharing the real facts, collecting the supplies and of course packing boxes.