Did you know that every 20 seconds a child dies from a vaccine preventable death?
Photo credited to UN Foundation.
That is about the time it takes to read the first paragraph of this post. A life has gone that could have been saved by a mere $20. The cost of buying two tickets to a movie, a bottle of wine or a birthday present for a child. That is it. But to many people around the world, that is everything.
Over the last two days I had the honor of attending the UN Foundation’s Summit as a Shot@Life Champion who in the coming months will be one of 45 citizens across the nation championing this great cause in saving lives around the world. Through raising awareness and funds for four life-saving vaccines, it is our hope that we can galvanize the nation so that no child around the world will not have a Shot@Life. A shot to reach these important milestones that many of us Americans take for granted.
So why does it matter? I can tell you exactly why.
Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You’re on your own.
And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.
OH! THE PLACES YOU’LL GO!
-Dr. Seus
For some reason these inspirational words form one of my favorite childhood books continues to inspires me. Especially on day’s like today as I get ready to launch off and head out to our nation’s capital to start a new beginning as an advocate for the UN Foundation’s program called at “Shot@Life”.
I will be one of 40 or so attendees of the training program that starts tomorrow and I can hardly wait.
Photo above credit to Wiki Commons. Children in Kindergarten in Afghanistan.
Here is a brief overview of Shot@Life’s program and why it is so important to spread awareness and help out . (Note: All this content is taken directly from their website at: http://shotatlife.org/learn/
The Problem:
This year, 1.7 million children will die from diseases that have all but disappeared in the U.S. Why? Because one in five children around the world do not have access to the life-saving immunizations needed to survive.
A child dies every 20 seconds
Millions of children are disabled or killed every decade by preventable diseases like pneumonia, diarrhea, measles and polio. Pneumonia and diarrhea are the two biggest killers of children under five, and account for more than one-third of childhood deaths worldwide.
Global health disparities:
Seventy-five percent of unvaccinated children live in just 10 countries. For children in India, Nigeria, Pakistan, Indonesia, Democratic Republic of Congo, Ethiopia, China, Uganda, Chad and Kenya, access to vaccines mean the difference between life and death, a healthy life or a lifetime of struggle.
Immunity at risk:
Germs don’t need a passport. With so many children around the world unvaccinated, diseases that have been eliminated in developed countries — such as measles — can return. Expanding access to vaccines strengthens our ability to fight disease globally and keep our families healthy here at home.
The Solution:
It’s simple; vaccines save lives. Millions of children could be spared from measles, pneumonia, diarrhea, polio and other preventable diseases if we could simply get them the vaccines they need.
The good news is access to vaccines has grown significantly in the last decade. Currently, vaccines are able to save the lives of 2.5 million children from preventable diseases every year. With your help, we can reach even more. With your support, global vaccination programs can save the life of a child every 20 seconds, and stop the nearly 2 million unnecessary deaths that happen every year.
Progress:
Vaccines have won several battles against preventable diseases in the last few decades. Thanks to a coordinated global vaccination effort, the number of new cases of polio – a disease that once paralyzed more than 1,000 children a day – has dropped 99 percent in the last 20 years. The world is now nearly polio-free.
The Measles Initiative is on the path to similar success. The vaccination of one billion children in 60 developing countries since 2001 has decreased measles deaths by 78 percent, changing measles from a disease that used to be the leading killer of children to one that we are close to eliminating altogether. Groundbreaking new vaccines that prevent pneumonia and diarrhea, if distributed widely, also have the potential to save the lives of millions more children.
Why Vaccines?:
Immunizations give children around the world a shot at more “firsts.” Keeping kids healthy is the best way to ensure they reach the milestones Americans routinely celebrate. When a child begins life with the protection of vaccines, the door is opened to more developmental firsts—first steps, first words, a first day of school. Immunized children are more likely to celebrate their fifth birthday, do well in school and go on to be productive, healthy adults.
A healthier world truly benefits us all. Expanding access to vaccines strengthens our ability to fight disease globally and keep our families healthy here at home, while improving economic stability around the world.
Sometimes in life, there is no better way to understand a complicated issue such as civil rights, than through the tender eyes of a child. I had the opportunity to volunteer in my son Max’s first grade class last week, and they were learning about Martin Luther King Jr. Through art and creativity, here are their dreams of the future….
I’ve been here for two full exhilarating days now and am beyond tired. I have more things to write about after 48 hours than I can believe. It is a fascinating place!
Unfortunately, I’ve figured out after the first day that the strong arm of the Republic of China has blocked access to my beloved WordPress site as well as Facebook and Twitter. Unless you have a proxy, it is extremely difficult to get on these banned sites. Thus, to my disappointment I am unable to blog while I’m in China. I also cannot access any other features of the site including the comments. I can read them via email yet cannot reply so please hang tight. I will respond to your comments and continue blogging when I return home on November 6th (that is, of course, after I get over the jet lag…it is 13 hours ahead for me here!).
I am so excited to write about what I’ve seen and experienced here in China. In just two days, I’ve taken over 100 pictures and have written meticulous notes. I will have lots of great, interesting stories to share! I have constantly had to remind myself to use the “third-eye” approach. It has been an extreme culture shock here yet after two days now I’m feeling more myself.
So, please hold on tight. There will not be any posts for at least a week unless for some reason I’m able to get onto WordPress or can bother my husband again to post them for me (I am emailing him my posts and he is entering them on my site yet we are not including any photos since it is too much of a hassle).
In the meantime, if you are interested in hearing more of my stories, I have over 100 posts accumulated so far thus there is plenty to read. Check out my journeys to Morocco, Chile, Argentina, South Africa, Iceland, Nepal, India or more.
September 11, 2001. A day we will always remember. A day that we will never forget. A day that changed our world as we know it. A day that made our lives never the same.
“First Pass, Defenders Over Washington” by Rick Herter. The painting depicts Capt. Dean Eckmann in his F-16, as he was the first to arrive at the Pentagon.
A copy of this print is hanging in my sister’s Virginia home in honor of her husband who was one of the three pilots.
Every American remembers where they were and what they were doing on that tragically fateful day. It was a brilliant blue September day in Minnesota without a cloud in the sky. Postcard perfect with a light breeze and a high in the love 70s.
A beautiful blue sky, September day that changed our lives forever.
It was past eight here in Minneapolis and I driving to work. I had the radio on and was singing along to my favorite songs when a strange interruption broke me out of my reverie. The DJ broke off the song, and life as I knew it changed forever.
Like everyone, I had no idea what on earth he was talking about. There was so much confusion and chaos as the terrifying events of September 11th began to unfold. All I heard was that some kind of “small plane” hit the World Trade Center. There was no more news at the time. I dialed my husband who was already at work to ask him if he heard. He didn’t know much more than me. It wasn’t until I arrived at my office in Eagan, located directly across the Minneapolis-St. Paul International airport, that I would see for myself live on TV, the horror that was unfolding this nightmarish day.
I walked across the parking lot with a pit in my stomach and shortness of breath, took the elevator up to the cafeteria and there right before my eyes live on CNN I saw the plane smash like a giant fireball into the World Trade Center. Without further thought, I turned on my heals, in absolute shock, and returned to my car where I called my husband and proceeded directly home in fear, completely unable to cry.
For the next two days, work was canceled (my husband’s downtown office was evacuated) while my husband and I sat terrified, motionless, and utterly glued to CNN as the events of 9/11 unraveled and the further confusion, chaos and attempted analysis went on. The normally busy sky above the lake and our house was eerily quiet: There were no planes for days as the entire nation’s airports system came to a startling halt.
Everyone was home and glued to TV. It was the most horrifying, frightening time of my life and to this day, I can never rid myself of the infamous image of the plane slamming into the World Trade Center. As much as I try to want to forget. I’ll always remember. The fruitless, tragic loss of innocent lives can not be forgotten or forsaken. The two wars that our country entered as a result of 9/11 and the war against terror can not be erased. Our world as we know it will never be the same. We will never feel safe.
Everyone has a story to tell that day.
My Mother was waiting in the Tucson, Arizona airport heading out to Virginia to visit my sister when she saw the first plane replayed across the TV. The entire airport went into shock as the events unfolded right before their eyes. Of course, knowing my mom was flying that day, I went into panic wondering if she was in the air. With all the chaos, confusion and uncertainty, no one knew how many planes were going to go down. By the time I finally reached her, she was hysterical but safe, waiting amidst the confusion at the airport. Finally her flight was canceled and she went home, like me, in horror and confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening. Life many others, she ended up packing her car and making the four-day journey across the country to reach my sister in Virginia, who was also in the heart of the situation.
My sister’s husband, Captain Craig Borgstrom, was one of the few men that actually saw 9/11 from the air. However, not in a commercial airline but in a fighter jet. As a Captain with the Happy Hooligans, the Fargo North Dakota National Guard Unit that was based at Langley Air Force base in Virginia, he was one of three pilots that was called into a scramble into the air in a race to save the doomed jet headed to the Pentagon. He arrived just after the jet crashed into the Pentagon looking down to see the terrifying, hellish fire burning at one of our nation’s most important buildings. Had he been a few moments earlier, he would have been faced with the orders to possibly have to shot down a passenger jet, an act that surely would have remained within his soul for the rest of his life.
Needless to say, my sister was panicking not knowing where her husband was and whether or not he was safe. Little did she know he would be one of the many 9/11 heroes (see article below from AIRMAN).
My husband and my father were preparing to depart on a week-long trip to Scotland. Their flight was scheduled to depart a couple of days later and unfortunately the trip never happened. Yet if it had, they probably would have been stuck there for days waiting out the reopening of the world’s airports.
I was scheduled to fly to Chicago on 9/13 where my office was based and I had a series of client meetings set up for the week. Unable to fly, I packed up my car and made the seven hour drive from Minneapolis to Chicago, listening to NPR the entire way and watching the incredible display of patriotism across the roads as cars and buses drove by with flags and sayings printed across their windows. Since no one could fly, the roads were packed and instead of the normal honking, rude driving and insanity, for once it seemed as if everyone had pulled together. An accepted, unspoken calm and cooperation was felt wherever you went.
After those fateful days of confusion, chaos, horror and anger, we were finally faced with the long road to acceptance, recovery and redemption. Slowly the planes began to fly and life kind of moved towards normalcy. Yet every time I entered the airport to board a plane, it was obvious how much had changed. How much we lost. How the world would never ever be the same again.
Ten years later the memories remain as painful as ever. Everyone seems to know someone who was lost in 9/11 or its aftermath. Will the world ever forget? Or do we even want to? No.
My thoughts and prayers are with the many people who lost the ones they love in and as a result of 9/11. May we always remember! And let freedom ring.
Pilots saw unique view of Pentagon burning – from 1,000 feet above
Story by Randy Roughton
Photo above of Captain Dean Eckmann
Fifty to 60 miles from Washington, the sky was so clear that 9/11 morning the F-16 Fighting Falcon pilots could see almost everything.
“It was almost like a North Dakota day,” Col. Brad Derrig said.
That morning, Derrig, then a major, and Capt. Craig Borgstrom were flying behind Capt. Dean Eckmann and were scrambled over Washington in response to the 9/11 attacks. All three fly with the “Happy Hooligans” in the North Dakota Air National Guard’s 178th Fighter Squadron, which stationed pilots at an alert detachment at Langley Air Force Base, Va. At that time, the detachment was one of North American Aerospace Defense Command’s seven alert sites designed to protect the nation against an attack.
As he approached the city, Eckmann saw black smoke rising above the Potomac River. But because the smoke was blowing his direction, he couldn’t see exactly where the fire was. He didn’t know it was at the Pentagon, where American Airlines Flight 77 crashed at 9:40 a.m., killing about 180 people, not including the hijackers. Before long, Eckmann would be looking back at his F-16’s missiles and wondering if he would be firing them sometime that day.
“Normally, in cities when you see smoke, it’s going to be gray or white – industrial-type smoke,” said Eckmann, who is now a lieutenant colonel with the Fargo-based squadron.
“From my years of experience in the military, black smoke is bad because it usually means fuel or explosives are burning.”
The detachment squadron was scheduled to fly a sortie against a couple of other Langley F-15 Eagles on 9/11. It was a typical alert, with the pilots mainly trying to be airborne with a less than five-minute notice. Derrig wasn’t scheduled to fly at all, although he was trying to work his way into the training sortie.
A klaxon horn sounded to let the pilots know they were on battle stations, so Eckmann and Derrig headed to their planes. The lights in the hangar changed from yellow to green to let them know of the scramble order at 9:24 a.m.
Borgstrom, the squadron’s director of operations at the time, ran to Eckmann’s plane as he was awaiting the scramble order and said he was supposed to fly as the third pilot. This surprised the other two pilots because in a scramble order for the detachment’s two F-16s, Borgstrom would serve as the supervisor of flying and would be responsible for keeping the pilots informed on the mission. With him in the air, there would be no operations officer left at the detachment. Eckmann directed Borgstrom to the detachment’s third F-16, which was unarmed because it wasn’t on alert status with the other two planes.
“Normally, the East Coast is filled with airplanes, big and small, on a daily basis. Flying that afternoon, the only airplanes that were up were basically military fighters and tankers. It was almost eerie, how quiet it was.”
The tower controller gave the order from the Northeast Air Defense Sector for the pilots to fly east for 60 miles, and the three F-16s took off 15 seconds apart by 9:30. As they flew, one of Eckmann’s wingmen learned their new coordinates, which meant they were headed to Baltimore.
“What it meant was we pretty much have priority over everyone, and civilian air controllers need to move people out of our way,” Eckmann said. “That was my first indication something serious was happening.”
Soon they were given new coordinates – to set up a combat air patrol over Reagan National. They set up the patrol over Washington by 9:45, and air traffic controllers notified Eckmann about a “couple of unknowns heading north on the Potomac River toward the White House.” From 25,000 feet, Eckmann headed straight to the aircraft, but quickly learned they were just a military and police helicopter headed to the Pentagon to assist.
Before long, Borgstrom relayed a NEADS message to Eckmann that the formation was directed to provide a battle damage assessment of the Pentagon. Earlier, Eckmann was suspecting a cruise missile attack from Russia, which had a long-range aviation exercise scheduled that week. Now he began thinking it was a truck bomb, similar to the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City that killed 168 people in 1995. Because of all of the smoke, it wasn’t until he was 1,000 feet directly above the Pentagon that Eckmann could see the building sustained a direct hit.
“We saw something that day that very few saw from the air,” Eckmann said. “That’s because once that happened, [the Federal Aviation Administration] shut down the airspace, and we were the only ones airborne.”
After flying over the Pentagon, Eckmann reported to NEADS that the building’s two outer rings were damaged in the attack. When asked his opinion of what happened, his best guess at the time was a large tanker truck because of the amount of flames and smoke. The pilots wouldn’t learn it was an airliner until after they landed back at Langley that afternoon.
They spent the next five hours intercepting unidentified aircraft above Washington. To intercept, the F-16 pilot approaches the suspect plane on the left wing since the captain on an airliner normally sits on that side. He makes visual contact with the pilot and gives him signals, then flies by and rocks the wing to signify for him to follow.
At one point, when Eckmann was on the radio with civilian air controllers at the Federal Aviation Administration’s Washington Center, Secret Service agents asked to speak to him. He received a short message: “We need you to protect the House.”
“I’m assuming that means the White House,” Eckmann said.
About 45 minutes after they set up the combat air patrol, Derrig saw a second view of the Pentagon on fire when he escorted a Lear jet carrying Attorney General John Ashcroft into Reagan National after the FAA had shut down all civilian air traffic nationwide.
“I had to fly over the Pentagon at a relatively low altitude, and I could see people on the ground working,” Derrig said. “Once I got back into the [combat air patrol], it was a sense of ‘All right. Now, we’ve got to protect these people.’ Our focus was on future attacks if future attacks were planned.”
Eventually, the pilots worked with F-16s from Andrews Air Force Base, Md., which set up a low combat air patrol over the city while the Langley formation maintained the high patrol. The normally crowded East Coast skies were uncharacteristically quiet, Derrig remembers.
“Normally, the East Coast is filled with airplanes, big and small, on a daily basis,” he said. “Flying that afternoon, the only airplanes that were up were basically military fighters and tankers. It was almost eerie, how quiet it was.
“When Andrews [Air Traffic Control] put out the statement that any aircraft into Andrews Class B air space will be shot down, I was thinking we’ve got the missiles. It wasn’t like we were out on a combat air patrol over Iraq or somewhere in Europe – it was within the United States. So that was kind of a gut-puller for me.”
The combat air patrol operation Eckmann and his wingmen started on 9/11 continued until the following April, when they went to more of a scramble and peak type of patrol, he said. When the morning began, seven sites were on alert with 14 airplanes, as there had been since NORAD reduced the number of alert sites in 1994. By nightfall, there were 40 to 50 sites with 200 planes, Eckmann said.
In a day filled with sights and sounds they thought they would never experience in their own country, one more remained when the pilots returned to their squadron.
“I remember I landed at Langley and taxied by the three squadrons of Eagles, and they were arming every flying F-15 on that base,” Eckmann said. “I’ve never seen so many missiles in one spot being put on airplanes. They were putting eight missiles on each F-15 at Langley. That’s another sight you just don’t forget.”
As Eckmann reflects on the 10-year anniversary of 9/11, the memories of the images he saw from his F-16 in a day that began with such a clear sky remain fresh and painful.
“Has it been 10 years already? For me, it will always seem like it wasn’t that long ago. I’ll have those pictures burned in my mind until the day I die – seeing the Pentagon burning from the air when I flew over it, and you knew people were dead inside, and people were suffering,” he said.
“Ten years later, we are still fighting the global war on terrorism. For me, it’s very personal that not only 3,000 people died in New York, but also approximately 180 people died right beneath me. I think about that often.”
Rural village in the Annapurna range taken from my recent trip to Nepal in October-November 2010. (For more photos and stories on my trip to Nepal, please refer to older posts located under “Nepal”).
Hello Readers!
As some of you are aware, I’ve been actively fundraising over the last two months to try to raise money to help a fabulous grass-roots NGO called HANDS IN NEPAL (www.handsinnepal.org) build a new school in rural Nepal. A recent trip to the Annapurnas back in late October/early November struck a cord in my heart and made me realize how impoverished these wonderfully, peaceful and loving villagers are. Over 80% of Nepalis live in rural areas that have little or no access to education. I believe strongly that education is the key to a better future and a better life. Thus, I have worked hard over the last year or so finding NGOs that work in education and help to improve the accessibility of education and learning to the masses, especially in poor, third-world countries.
I’m pleased to say that over the last two months I’ve been able to raise over $1,000 for HANDS IN NEPAL mainly through the sales of hand-made pashmina scarves, yak-hair blankets (made in Tibet) and other local Nepali products. To me, it feels like a win-win situation as I’m able to offer beautiful products to my friends and family that are made directly in Nepal (and Tibet for the blankets) and donate all the funds directly to Hands in Nepal. After two weeks hiking from village to village through the Annapurnas, I saw firsthand how hard these women work to sell their beautiful, handicrafted products. They would be sitting there all day long, some of them not much older than twenty selling their handwoven scarfes, blankets, hats and gloves all for the mere price of two US dollars a piece! For us, it is less than a cup of Starbucks coffee but for them, it is a day’s living (as the average salary in rural Nepal is less than $2/day).
As someone who has been so incredibly fortunate to have traveled to these amazing places, I feel like it is a requirement to give back to the community. Hence, I contacted Hands in Nepal and have worked with them ever since on trying to raise the necessary funds to help build new schools.
Per Hands in Nepal, here are some amazing facts on what our money can help build or buy:
$20 = Cost of Student Annual Supplies
$50 = Chalkboard and Teacher Supplies
$600 = One-year Teacher Salary
$1500 = One year Boarding School Scholarship for one orphan
$6,000 – $8,000 = New construction of a four room schoolhouse
Thus, it is amazing to me what a long way our money can go in such a poor country!
Last night I held my fourth fundraising event, a wine and cheese party at my home where I told the story of HANDS IN NEPAL and offered a select collection of Nepali products for sale, all in the name of charity. It was such a wonderful feeling of accomplishment to hit over the $1,000 mark! It felt so good….like nothing I’d ever experienced in corporate America (I was in sales for many years).
There is something so special and magical about giving back that just makes me feel complete and my hope is that I can eventually reach the $8,000 mark to build a new school in rural Nepal and have a lasting impact on an entire village and generation of people. It will take time of course to raise the money but with the help of my friends, family and children as well I plan to achieve it!
Some exciting news is that Hands in Nepal’s founder Danny Chaffin’s mother Jan is headed to Nepal this weekend to see if she can start up small sewing co’ops for the women. Many rural Nepali women are forced into prostitution as there is no other way out. Human trafficing is a huge deal in Nepal and Jan is hoping to start up another NGO to help these women and give them more options and hopefully a better life!
As I mentioned in earlier posts, leaving the CCS Home Base at night was not recommended unless in a group or with a male companion. There was no going out to get a drink, no going to the club, just staying back at the Home Base eating a huge meal and hanging out with the group or reading. A big part of traveling for me includes the night life. I love to go out and have fun however I had to respect the circumstances of our volunteer commitment. Since there were no tourists in Cartago, we really stood out and going to the bars (if there were any) in a Catholic town would have looked really bad. I was to learn later just how strict the drinking policy was.
When Santi mentioned an evening outing a few of us practically jumped out of our seats with the opportunity to get out at night. Santi heard that the local Cartago Cultural and Music center was having a free performance in honor of Holy Week for whoever wanted to attend. I could hardly wait to check things out and have an escape.
We left after dinner and it was a perfect evening out. Fresh, light breeze and wonderful. The walk to the Cultural Center took about fifteen minutes heading down windy streets and passing through the center of town. There was not a whole lot going on. People were out and about, doing their business, yet I couldn’t see much in the way of nightlife.
The Cultural Center is a beautiful, traditional Costa Rican building set in the center of town with a gorgeous indoor courtyard full of fragrant flowers, plants and best of all, an opening up to the sky. The Cultural Center offers art and music courses to the people of Cartago at no charge thus you can see artists in residence painting and showing their art and music performances. That evening, we were attending a free musical performance by some of the students in honor of Holy Week. To my surprise, the lights were turned off and the entire piece of music was played by candlelight. It was a quartet of strings and absolutely magical. All the music played was catholic and had to do with Holy Week. There were slides played against the wall that complemented the music. It was very peaceful and put one in the spirit of the importance of the week, even for those who are not that religious.
Here is a picture of the lovely traditional courtyard of the Cultural Center:
After the performance, we walked back to the CCS Home Base and entered a nearby church that was just cleaning up after an evening service. Here are some photos of the outside and inside of the church:
Then, of course, we hit the grand-daddy of all churches, the Basilica light up at night and it was spectacular. Here are some photos:
It was a fantastic evening out and my eyes closed immediately once I hit my bottom bunk. I couldn’t wait for Day 3 at the nursing home. I knew that my friends would be lined up early, on the terrace, anxiously awaiting our arrival with delight.
I arrived home in one piece, thankful to be safe and sound and home with my family. After the hugs and kisses from my two young children, my mother and my wonderful husband who allowed me to leave him for 17 long days half way around the world, I unpacked my suitcases and tried to settle back in to life at home. For some reason, I found it hard to readjust. Everything back home seemed so over the top. The house felt too big, my closets of cloths felt too large, the cupboards of food felt too full. The house felt claustrophobically full of too much stuff. Too many things. Guilt and shame spread throughout my body like a chill. How could life here be so incredibly different than in Nepal? How could we have so much, too much, when people in Nepal live happily and peacefully with nothing. It didn’t make sense.
I realized immediately that I was going through a reverse culture shock similar to what I had experienced after returning home after eight months living in France. But this time it was different. This time it motivated me and inspired me to do something about it. I had changed, that is for sure. Now it was time to do something about it.
Over the last few months I’ve been in contact with HANDS IN NEPAL and other non-profit organizations in hope to someday help make a difference. It is hard to say right now exactly what I’ll be able to do and when, but I’ve promised myself that I’ll do something whether it be fundraising for a school in Nepal or even volunteering there in the future.
For now, I try to keep myself abreast of news in Nepal by following the news, keeping in touch with Hari and reading books on Nepal. I recently picked up a book titled “Little Princes” by Conor Grennan, which is a phenomenal, highly inspirational read about a young, American man’s attempt to find the families of trafficked children in Nepal. It is an unbelievable story and beautifully written. Proceeds of the book sales go to the non-profit organization that Conor started called Next Generation Nepal (NGN) (www.nextgenerationnepal.org). I highly recommend reading this book! Here is a link to the review on Amazon.com:
Now that I am finished telling my travel stories of Nepal, I am next moving on to the other part of the globe, Central America, to discuss my recent volunteer trip to Costa Rica, another highly inspirational experience that taught me a lot. I hope you enjoyed my Nepal entries and look forward to writing about Costa Rica! Pura Vida!
As our jet plane took off and climbed five thousand, ten thousand and then eighteen thousand feet, I realized in awe that only a few days ago I had been at almost the same altitude as the plane. It was a wild thought. Almost a little frightening.
As I looked down, out the airplane windows, I finally was able to conceptualize how high 18,000 feet truly is. The buildings became smaller and smaller, the cars like ants lining the roads. The vastness of the green, voluptuous rice fields stacked one on top of the other, bursting in color and life. Then, for the last time, I saw the godlike, mighty Himalayas, strikingly beautiful, like a mirage of flying towers soaring upwards into the heavens of the sky. I had to pinch myself to believe that I was really here and had really been there. It was all like a dream.
Months before I left for Nepal, I made a decision that I no longer wanted to be simply a tourist that visited a country, enriched myself in all its culture and beauty, and left nothing in return, no gift behind. My new way of thinking all began on a recent trip I made which was different from anything else I’d ever done: A volunteer trip to work in Costa Rica. Although I was only there for one week, the impact volunteering made on my life and the people I helped during that short time led me to believe strongly that you must give back. You receive a gift when you travel, and it is important to give one back.
I wracked my brain for different ways I could raise money. I knew that I wanted to donate money to a non-profit organization that focuses on education in Nepal. After reading several inspirational books on education in poverty-stricken lands (Two Cups of Tea, Stones into Schools, Half the Sky), I knew that this was the area to attack. I searched Lonely Planet who has an excellent listing of non-profit organizations as well as volunteer opportunities, and found just the organization I was looking for: READ Nepal.
READ Global pioneered the concept of sustainability as an international development organization dedicated to combining education and private enterprise to make rural communities viable places to learn, build, and prosper. READ partners with rural communities to create, sustain and grow projects in a manner that is politically and culturally appropriate. READ has helped establish forty nine Community Library and Resource Centers paired with for-profit enterprises throughout Nepal and India that serve over a half million people annually and has also recently opened up a center in Bhutan.
Finding the right organization was the easy part. The hard part was figuring out how a “thirdeyemom” could raise the money. A mom, who had voluntarily left the workplace to raise her two young children (aka a mom with no income). Of course we could just write a check out of our own money but that didn’t feel right. I wanted to earn the money. Furthermore, I wanted to involve my children in the process so they could learn the importance of giving back.
That was where my creative thinking came into play. It was summer in Minnesota—-a time to be outdoors, out of our long winter’s hibernation, and back into the world again enjoying our 10,000+ lakes, beautiful parks and nature. There was no school for the children. Thus opportunities lurked. Why not host a “babysitting extravaganza” all in the name of charity, at my house? I sent out the email to my group of trusted friends with small children. Parents who knew what I was doing and who also wanted a break. I set up three Friday morning playgroups with ten children each ages 5 and under (yes I’m crazy), with a suggested donation of $10 per child. A pretty good deal when you consider it usually costs at least $10 per hour for a sitter. It worked great (except for the huge mess I had to clean up afterwards). I was able to raise almost $300, which was only $200 shy of my initial goal of raising $500 for READ Nepal. Hurrah!
After the initial joy of raising the money, I realized that I still had to figure out how I would earn the rest. That was when I came up with the idea of having a “lemonade sale” on the corner of our street. This may sound funny to people who don’t live in the United States but it is one of the trademark events of childhood. Every American child at some time in their life have a lemonade stand in which passing people stop to purchase an ice-cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer day. It is a tradition. So why not do one for charity? I made four pitchers of ice cold lemonade, some handmade signs and we set up shop on the corner of our street with hopes of staying until we sold it all. Unfortunately sales were very slow despite the singing, shouting and jumping up and down of my 4 year-old blond-haired daughter. My six-year-old son quickly became bored. After making a disappointing $25 we closed the stand and drank the remainder of the lemonade. Not such a great idea after all.
Summer was quickly ending and my trip to Nepal was rapidly approaching. I was well short of my goal but didn’t give up. My last ditch effort was the all-American yard sale. Again, for those not familiar with the American “Garage Sale” or “yard sale”, let me explain. Basically you go through all your closets, boxes, and drawers and gather up all the stuff you don’t need or use anymore, and place it in a pile. You meticulously go through each item, one by one and put a ridiculously low price on the item. Then you haul all the items outside either to your garage or your yard, place up a few advertisements (aka homemade signs) around town, and wait. Believe it or not, people go absolutely NUTS about garage sales. They are out at the crack of dawn, sneaking around like cats trying to get the best deal they possibly can. Before I had even set up all my tables of stuff, they were knocking on my door trying to get a deal. It was pathetic in a sense. My large sign said “all proceeds are being donated to charity” yet people still tried to weasel down the price. Go figure! After three hours, the sales piled in and my old “junk” was packed away in other people’s cars, to be used or stored in their house. The garage sale wound up being a huge success and brought my total up to $550, well past my goal!
Exhausted, I cleaned up the remaining items and my husband packed everything up to donate to a local charity. I had met my goal and felt proud. But little did I know there were others (friends, family, neighbors, etc) who noticed my effort and contributed to the cause. The money raised eventually made it to $2,000 which was matched by my husband’s employer, bringing the total donation to READ Nepal up to $4,000! Wow, just like that a small idea ended up being a big help. The funds were donated a week before I boarded the plane to Kathmandu. READ Nepal was delighted with the donation and informed me that the money would be more than enough to open up an entire library and reading center in rural Nepal. The gift was given and I realized that it is the things you do for others in life that make you feel the best.
The beautiful smile of a young child in rural Nepal:
