I found my recent trip to some leper colonies made me feel oddly bouyant. The problem is, I am going to have trouble explaining why. Especially as that statement makes me sound like an insensitive idiot.
Let set the story for you first:
We (the company) were asked to perform a Baseline Assessment for a charity that provides services and help to people that suffer from Leprosy. They are about to extend their services to South Sudan. They have not worked in the area for several years and have no idea what things are like anymore. A Baseline Assessment is NGO project speak for assessing the situation on the ground. We go to the communities and gather information by observing and questioning the inhabitants and the people who live nearby. This gives the charity a snapshot of the conditions they are about to deal with, and allows them to identify possible issues that the charity can assist with.
The fact that you are conducting a Baseline Assessment means that you are likely to be going in blind. We were visiting three communities. We didn't know how large the communities are, how they are organised, or how many individuals with leprosy live there. That is what we were meant to find out. I had no idea what I was going to see. I was expecting to encounter post-apocalyptic conditions.
It is a surprise to many that 'leper communities' still exist. We have all heard of them. In most countries they were set up by missionaries, priests and nuns, to administer to the sufferers. They were set up because those who had the disease became lepers. They were thrown out of their communities and had nowhere else to go. But, in most countries, they do not exist anymore. The disease was eradicated. Not here. The numbers are growing. Slowly, but growing nevertheless. The total population diagnosed with leprosy may only number one or two thousand. The problem is that we cannot be sure. Accurate numbers are hard to find in South Sudan. One of the biggest reasons for this is illustrated by one of our subject communities.
Two of our communities had, over the last 100 years, had access to treatment. When drugs were discovered that could destroy the disease, the nearby hospitals were able to dispense the treatment to the patients. For some the damage to the body had been done, but the progress of the disease was halted. For many it was halted before it had done much damage at all. The communities grew, built and developed. They are still poor, but the people around them grew less afraid as the leprosy was controlled. The communities intermingled. People remained healthy. No post apocalyptic scenario here.
However, this did not happen in one place. This very small community, of around 20 adults and 30 children, has remained isolated. They occupy an area that saw a great deal of conflict, and they are far away from many of the larger cities The world either forgot them, or was unable to get to them because of war. They had not seen a doctor for almost three decades. The disease continued to ravage those that had it, because it is a slow disease. It does not transfer easily, so many of the children of those with leprosy managed to marry and move away without contracting the disease themselves, leaving their parents behind. This community shrank as people died, and stagnated as the individuals grew more incapable over time. The outlook is not that good. South Sudan has no money, little infrastructure, and scant will to help such a small population of people. This is not surprising. The country has bigger problems to worry about. Still, with any luck, the report that I write might encourage and enable this charity to begin programmes that improve things for these communities.
But why, I hear you say, would such a hopeless situation improve your mood? Is the Guerilla Researcher a heartless idiot who finds this amusing?
No. I am not. Or so my friends say. Let me see if I can dig myself out of this hole.
I met people who cannot pick up their own food. Some lost their sight to leprosy. Others are afraid of cooking or going near fire because the disease makes them insensitive to pain and they can become seriously injured without realising it. Many cannot walk without an aid of some kind. Some have to crawl in the dust, mostly naked and dirt poor. These are the physical impediments that we observed. Our research barely even touched on the social exclusion, fear, revulsion and discrimination that leprosy sufferers have faced for years.
Life is hard, and cruel to these human beings. It is easy, and essential, to compare my life to theirs and observe how simple mine really is. I have it made. All of the expats here make this comparison. I have not yet met someone who does not. I hope I don't because that person probably IS an arsehole. This kind of work should be one of those things that helps you be a little more thankful for what you have, if only because it shows you are able to empathise to some extent with those who have less.
The inspiration I took from this project was more specific: It points out to me that humans can suffer a lot more than I have suffered, and still keep going. That one outcast community is suffering badly, but it is not without hope. Those whom I met have not let their illness beat them down. Children do come back and aid their parents. People do organise and support one another mutually. They have all encountered barriers that cannot be overcome, but they still show spirit. Spirit in the sense of not being broken, and spirit in the sense of the human spirit. They work as hard as they can. They still hope for an improvement in their life. They still plan for the future of their children. They still look ahead. Importantly, some people will be humane enough to help.
I tried to imagine myself in their position, and wondered if I would still have the ability to get up and face the world every morning. I do not want to flatter myself without reason, but I felt that I might be able to do it. I realised there are trials, greater than the ones I am facing now, that I could conquer. I have seen others do it. I just need to have faith. Possibly a little help too.
In summary, I believe I am talking about two sources of solace and inspiration here. You can say 'I see what others do without, and I am more grateful for what I have'. You can also say this: 'I see what others can deal with, and it gives me hope that I could deal with it too'.
Let set the story for you first:
We (the company) were asked to perform a Baseline Assessment for a charity that provides services and help to people that suffer from Leprosy. They are about to extend their services to South Sudan. They have not worked in the area for several years and have no idea what things are like anymore. A Baseline Assessment is NGO project speak for assessing the situation on the ground. We go to the communities and gather information by observing and questioning the inhabitants and the people who live nearby. This gives the charity a snapshot of the conditions they are about to deal with, and allows them to identify possible issues that the charity can assist with.
The fact that you are conducting a Baseline Assessment means that you are likely to be going in blind. We were visiting three communities. We didn't know how large the communities are, how they are organised, or how many individuals with leprosy live there. That is what we were meant to find out. I had no idea what I was going to see. I was expecting to encounter post-apocalyptic conditions.
It is a surprise to many that 'leper communities' still exist. We have all heard of them. In most countries they were set up by missionaries, priests and nuns, to administer to the sufferers. They were set up because those who had the disease became lepers. They were thrown out of their communities and had nowhere else to go. But, in most countries, they do not exist anymore. The disease was eradicated. Not here. The numbers are growing. Slowly, but growing nevertheless. The total population diagnosed with leprosy may only number one or two thousand. The problem is that we cannot be sure. Accurate numbers are hard to find in South Sudan. One of the biggest reasons for this is illustrated by one of our subject communities.
Two of our communities had, over the last 100 years, had access to treatment. When drugs were discovered that could destroy the disease, the nearby hospitals were able to dispense the treatment to the patients. For some the damage to the body had been done, but the progress of the disease was halted. For many it was halted before it had done much damage at all. The communities grew, built and developed. They are still poor, but the people around them grew less afraid as the leprosy was controlled. The communities intermingled. People remained healthy. No post apocalyptic scenario here.
However, this did not happen in one place. This very small community, of around 20 adults and 30 children, has remained isolated. They occupy an area that saw a great deal of conflict, and they are far away from many of the larger cities The world either forgot them, or was unable to get to them because of war. They had not seen a doctor for almost three decades. The disease continued to ravage those that had it, because it is a slow disease. It does not transfer easily, so many of the children of those with leprosy managed to marry and move away without contracting the disease themselves, leaving their parents behind. This community shrank as people died, and stagnated as the individuals grew more incapable over time. The outlook is not that good. South Sudan has no money, little infrastructure, and scant will to help such a small population of people. This is not surprising. The country has bigger problems to worry about. Still, with any luck, the report that I write might encourage and enable this charity to begin programmes that improve things for these communities.
But why, I hear you say, would such a hopeless situation improve your mood? Is the Guerilla Researcher a heartless idiot who finds this amusing?
No. I am not. Or so my friends say. Let me see if I can dig myself out of this hole.
I met people who cannot pick up their own food. Some lost their sight to leprosy. Others are afraid of cooking or going near fire because the disease makes them insensitive to pain and they can become seriously injured without realising it. Many cannot walk without an aid of some kind. Some have to crawl in the dust, mostly naked and dirt poor. These are the physical impediments that we observed. Our research barely even touched on the social exclusion, fear, revulsion and discrimination that leprosy sufferers have faced for years.
Life is hard, and cruel to these human beings. It is easy, and essential, to compare my life to theirs and observe how simple mine really is. I have it made. All of the expats here make this comparison. I have not yet met someone who does not. I hope I don't because that person probably IS an arsehole. This kind of work should be one of those things that helps you be a little more thankful for what you have, if only because it shows you are able to empathise to some extent with those who have less.
The inspiration I took from this project was more specific: It points out to me that humans can suffer a lot more than I have suffered, and still keep going. That one outcast community is suffering badly, but it is not without hope. Those whom I met have not let their illness beat them down. Children do come back and aid their parents. People do organise and support one another mutually. They have all encountered barriers that cannot be overcome, but they still show spirit. Spirit in the sense of not being broken, and spirit in the sense of the human spirit. They work as hard as they can. They still hope for an improvement in their life. They still plan for the future of their children. They still look ahead. Importantly, some people will be humane enough to help.
I tried to imagine myself in their position, and wondered if I would still have the ability to get up and face the world every morning. I do not want to flatter myself without reason, but I felt that I might be able to do it. I realised there are trials, greater than the ones I am facing now, that I could conquer. I have seen others do it. I just need to have faith. Possibly a little help too.
In summary, I believe I am talking about two sources of solace and inspiration here. You can say 'I see what others do without, and I am more grateful for what I have'. You can also say this: 'I see what others can deal with, and it gives me hope that I could deal with it too'.
