I refuse to pay the price for ignorance – to trade my integrity and my capacity for compassion for an ignorant existence.
I can’t afford ignorance. The price is too high. And this is one of those things I can’t be quiet about. Hunger. Famine. Starvation. And if I can’t be quiet about it, how in the world can I DO NOTHING about it? I talk. A lot. But the real deal is sealed by what I do.
And so the doing is ON. Our 4th PlumpyNut Triathlon Fundraiser for Doctors Without Borders is ON.
This is real. Drought destroys families. This season the drought is devastating regions in the Horn of Africa again. They say the conditions are the worst they have been for 60 years. Children are dying. Families are losing their beloveds and facing choices no one should ever have to face. My cupboards are full, and my once malnourished son is crying for Neuman’s chocolate cream cookies – he’d like more than 5 on his lunch plate. Not. right. and. no. time. for. ignorance.
Last night my Ethiopian friend shared with me that I’m doing a good job raising my son with a strong sense of his Ethiopianness. I wondered how she could say this in the company of a 3 year old pretty much occupied with cars, raccoons, and chocolate. Really? She said it doesn’t matter if he speaks Amharic or identifies with the Lion of Judah or loves injera and berbere. What matters, she said, is that he is raised to be a good and caring person – because THAT is what it means to raise an Ethiopian. That is what it means to BE an Ethiopian. Let’s ALL bring our inner Ethiopians to the table and make a difference. Donate now. Please.