The Legacy

No matter how ridiculous it seems in light of how much we have learned and grown over this past year, all of us at one point or another have at least briefly pondered the question, “What will be our legacy, or how will we be remembered at our sites?” This question was especially potent when we first came, as we were continually plagued with nostalgic reminiscences of the previous volunteers. Oh, he was a master Malayalam speaker. Or, she learned Indian dance. Do you want to see a picture? He was just head and shoulders above other volunteers, he was made for this place. She started a library for the local children…what will you do? Naturally, these stories were slightly intimidating those first few months. It is something all YAVs go through, and I am sure all of us, whether we admit it or not, feel a little competitiveness. We want to do it better.

Then we have the expectations of those back home. Most people probably think we are spending a year doing some great service for the poor people of the world. Some think we are bringing our education and training to improve physical and societal infrastructure. Others assume we are filling positions that require exactly our background and expertise. There may even be some with an archaic and horrifying understanding of us as missionaries out to save and civilize the ‘heathens’. Hopefully all realize that we gain some from the experience as well. By and large, though, the accepted formula is that we the privileged are filling some need that the people themselves could not handle. Let’s face it, westerners have a bit of a savior complex. We think other people need our help, indeed that they cannot survive without us. And the volunteers are not exempt from this mindset. When we started, I am sure each one of us deep down felt that we were off to do our part to save the world. We wanted to be effective ‘doers’. We wanted to leave our mark wherever it was that we were going.

But then we lived here for a year. In previous posts, I have reflected on all of the humbling lessons we have learned. Our communication skills are not nearly as good as we thought they were. We struggle to make community life work. We are not very skilled English teachers. We are not immune to loneliness and homesickness. Our patience wears thin all too easily. Heck, we can’t even always hold our own when it comes to eating. I never thought I would have a problem with that! This education in humility has indeed been transformative. The far more important lesson, though, is that the people we thought we were coming to help are resilient, creative, and dedicated. They are people with the skills, knowledge, and devotion needed for positive self determination. In other words, they are not some backwards, needy population as portrayed and idealized by western media.

We have come upon some major issues during our time here. We have seen and experienced giant problems against which we are truly helpless. Helpless in the sense that we have nothing to offer; we cannot help. We are not, however, hopeless. For we have also seen and experienced the power of the people. Here are just a few examples:

-One cannot go anywhere in Kerala without noticing the oppression of women. In general, women are expected to serve. They are to bear children, raise children, cook food, clean houses, and often find ways to provide the familial income drained by husbands’ alcoholism. They usually don’t have the freedom to choose the husband who turns out to be a louse; their fathers and uncles and brothers choose for them. Even their dress code is a product of male attempts at control. And the church is not innocent—women and men don’t sit together, and women have to cover their heads for prayer and communion. In short, it is patriarchy at its ugliest. But one also cannot go anywhere in Kerala without encountering strong women who will eventually buck the system. My hope lies in my dear friend Anitha, who must respect the intricacies of her culture in having an arranged marriage but will use her education, strength of will, and compassion to improve the lives and freedom of other women around her.

-India is notorious for hunger problems. I believe the country has more malnourished children than any other region in the world. But Kerala has shown that effectively run public distribution systems can feed the people. Leftist governments in the state have recognized that food distribution rather than shortage is the problem. So the people provide for each other.

-Even more than hunger, India is known for its street children and orphans. Oftentimes the global economic system forces families into such poverty that they can no longer be functioning families. So the children end up having to live on their own—homeless, begging, stealing, fighting to survive. This tragedy affects me deeply. But then I see our girls’ home Balika Mandiram and the boys’ home down the street Kerala Balagram. I see organizations who realize the need to help the young who are abandoned, orphaned, uncared for, or delinquent. More importantly, though, I see the children themselves who band together as sisters and brothers, giving each other back their childhood and the love and support they need to make it.

-Likewise, elderly are often abandoned or tossed out by their families. And likewise this Mandiram Society functions to provide food, housing, and healthcare. And likewise the elderly themselves make community and support each other.

-As I have said before, this Mandiram also serves the larger population through affordable, community-based healthcare. Basically, the many people who cannot pay for expensive treatment are cared for anyways. There aren’t many specialists or state of the art machines, but there is a committed staff that serves with dedication and does it well.

-On a smaller scale, there are definite problems within the church here. Patriarchy reigns supreme, and there are the usual problems associated with episcopacy—simony, nepotism, and general corruption. Also, the church often forgets its identity and purpose, ignoring the poor and dalit communities. Yet, I have gotten to know many young people like my friends Nibu and Alex who hope to be leaders in the church someday. I know that they have the ability address these problems.

-There are countless other examples, including communal (religious) violence, environmental crises, water shortage, disappearance of tribal cultures, caste and class discrimination, and sex trade. For every major issue, though, there is a strong and creative response from strong and creative people.


I do not mean to make light of these problems, because they are enormous and multifaceted. I mean only to say that there is nothing I or any other westerner can do that the people here can’t do better. It will be a slow process, and they will do it differently than we would, but they will do it. It is high time that we stopped treating people of less ‘developed’ regions with condescension and pity. Surely these places would be flourishing today if not for the colonial legacy of Europe and the neoliberal global capitalism of the U.S. We forget that we are directly responsible for the majority of their problems. Rather, we see ourselves as the only solution. We ignore the local movements that decry devastation caused by multinational corporations. We fight against community based ideologies because, heaven forbid, that might mean socialism, or even communism. We overlook the fact that the people who are here, who belong to this land, climate, culture, and tradition, know each other, know the ground realities, and know what can actually be effective. And with this fallacy of perspective we deny these vibrant people their right to positive self determination. Perhaps that is the biggest problem of all. So, what can we do? We can recognize the issues and our role in perpetuating them. We can fight against a global economic system dominated by the west that thrives on exploitation of these regions. We can join these people in solidarity, as friends, as equals, as fellow people trying to make it in this world.

So, I am not saying that I should have stayed home. This place has transformed my life and perspective in absolutely necessary ways. That’s just it, though. I needed to come. They did not need me to come. Returning to this idea of legacy, I hope they say, “Oh that was the sayip who did nothing. We are doing it ourselves. But he is our friend, our brother, our son in the process.”