Winds of Peace Foundation

Steve Sheppard | November 27, 2011

What if the lives we are living were not at all about how much we could earn, or what we could accumulate for ourselves, but rather about how much we could give away, sort of a “reverse competition” of life as we know it?  Would there be an intensity to our turmoil as we no sooner had given resources away but somebody else had unloaded their resources upon us?  The world might become a new “everyone for himself/herself” kind of place as we sought to outdo each other with our giving, and in the meantime each of us would have more than we wanted rather than less than we needed.

What if the idea of being in power pertained not to the ability to force one’s will on others- whether individuals, organizations, nations- but rather to be the one first in line to offer help, solace, sustenance, education.  Would the now-upside down nature of governments and corporations alike compete for recognition as the best among their peers in creating sustainability, sufficiency, and being the best stewards of the abundance that the world has to offer? The world might create a new definition of fame and fortune wherein leaders would be extolled for their servanthood instead of their domination.

What if the notion of having enough to eat referenced the minimal amount which we needed for sustenance rather than how many additional calories we were able to consume as a show of our success and abundance?  Would we not only not want a second helping of Thanksgiving dinner, but also feel insulted at the idea of eating more than was needed?  And what would that mean to our health?  The world might soon discover that food is not a symbol but a right of every living thing, and that as such, there is plenty of it on earth.

What if we were somehow able to view ourselves as all part of a magnificent quilt, whose beauty was comprised of different colors and textures which made for the exquisite whole, rather than exhausting ourselves in the pursuit of identifying differences which do not exist?  Would harnessing the strength of collaboration create a new source of atomic power  in the process?  Understanding how my own well-being is directly tied to the well-being of everyone else might cause a new form of fusion.  The world might suddenly find that its energy crisis had been quite different than it imagined beforehand.

What if we were born with the bias toward inclusion and regarded exclusion as some sort of abomination?  What if this was our only bias? Would we be able to see ourselves more clearly as a result, and thus know our place in the world, the universe, differently?  Would that make a difference? The world might discover a meaning and a purpose for itself which reaches far beyond the atmosphere of this very tiny place in the cosmos.

What if the questions here represented reality instead of sounding like fantasy?  How would my life be different?  What might have been my experiences in such a world?  What might I have known, learned, lived?

I find myself musing over such ” what if” questions from time to time, especially during the holidays when the blessings that I have received in my life are so particularly clear.  But it’s the perfect time of year to revisit such questions, as each of us seeks gifts to give, perfect and meaningful symbols of friendship and love, and preferably ones which have never been received before.  There are perfect gifts to be given.  They will not be found at midnight in a department store, but rather, deep within our psyches and waiting to be discovered and freely given, as they have been since the dawn of humankind.  It’s a new type of “shopping” that we must do if we truly seek the greatest bargain of all….

 

 

 

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Tags: economic crisis, Living with the Consequences

Steve Sheppard | November 23, 2011

After my most recent entry here (“Not A Nicaraguan,” posted 11-17-11), I got to thinking further about the reflection and wondered what is my objective in sharing my thoughts every week?  I suppose it finally dawned on me that a series of seemingly random, disconnected essays ought to have a goal to be achieved or an end in mind.  Being a writer at heart, I never really questioned myself about my purposes in opining here each week or so; a person who loves to write simply does it because he/she must.  And while I’m not obsessive about my written expressions, I do confess to a certain compulsion to write about the people and perspectives of Nicaragua.  So upon consideration of the question about my aims in writing here, I was able to figure out, at least in part, why I take the time to do this.

First, like all too many residents of the United States, I grew up and was educated in a cocoon of sorts.  While I understood that there was this thing called poverty in the world, I never had to come face-to-face with it.  Reading about it and perhaps participating in some safe, classroom discussions about it were as far as I was required to go in confronting the topic and that was just fine with me.  Once out of college, I married, set about the task of finding work, creating a career, having a family and pursuing my own part of the “American dream.”   Drawing upon those earlier, brief exposures to the reality of poverty in the world, I never lost sight of what I perceived to be my (limited) role in addressing it: charitable giving became an early and important part of our household budgeting, done comfortably at arm’s-length with a check through the mail.  But I never allowed myself to inch much closer to the truth of poverty.  In fact, I was never able to embrace the issue of poverty as my own responsibility  until I traveled to Central America and came face-to-face with live human beings immersed in need.  Then it became real.

Unfortunately, that’s the way it is with most of us.  Awareness is only afforded to those realities which are directly in front of us and which can therefore demand our attention.  But most of us will never travel to the poorest regions of the world.  And the only means by which I can address that reality is through sharing my own experiences from visits that I have had the good fortune to make.  The great sorrow and shame that is poverty in our world is too easy to overlook, too comfortable to forget, without some kinds of reminders to penetrate our consciousness.  I have family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances who have curiosity about Winds of Peace and who thus follow what I write here, so my entries provide one tiny pinprick of reminder about the contrast between our lives and the ones about which I write.  And that awareness is a necessity, whether it’s comprised of fifty readers or just one.

Second, I feel the need to put a face on all of this.  One of my difficulties in seeing poverty as belonging to me was the impersonality of it.  By remaining at safe distance, by relegating it to statistics and percentages and far-off lands, the issue could never become a personal one.  Throughout my entire high school years I did not personally know any poor person .  Churches were not yet creating opportunities for such encounters.  Holiday service opportunities, if they did exist, were unknown to me.  But when a young Nicaraguan boy, after seeing the photos of my own Korean-born children, asked me whether I might adopt him as well, the hook had been set in my heart.  My clear belief is that we all need such a hook, not because we are “bad” people ignoring the poor, but because we have not been given the chance to feel the heartbreak of impoverishment in the lives of others.  We’re all capable of feeling that connection and these essays are sometimes aimed at exactly that target.

Third, perhaps I am “selling” something, as well.  Wrapped up within the emotions and experiences described above is the hope that somehow I might reach someone else who is just like me at that earlier time.  That individual has remained insulated from the discomfort of an impoverished world, is someone who could be open to genuinely caring about the fate and future of people unknown to him/her, who simply needs a small push to be jostled from the comfort of a privileged life.  Maybe these reflections of mine could motivate even one person to step out from the shadows of insensibility to seize some greater responsibility for a humanity that is in tremendous need, not for solving all of the world’s problems, but for lightening the load for just one other life.

Fourth and finally, these entries are as much for me as they are for you, the readers.  Having had the chance to get close to the Nicaraguan reality, I have experienced what many travelers experience when confronting another space in the world.  My emotions run the gamut each time I’m in Nicaragua: I see despair, I hear great hope, I observe inspirational perseverance, I am frustrated by our human proclivities and shortsightedness.  I am disoriented every time I return to the United States.  I need days to step back into the perspective of an affluent North American when I know that I cannot entirely do so, not in light of the circumstances I have just left behind.  I order something from an Internet site with little more than a thought, and then find myself  weeping at the inequity of being able to do so. I am amazed at what my Nicaraguan connections have taught me, about a different society, alternative ways of looking at our world, our spirituality, our selves.  Writing about these juxtapositions is a healthy thing for me, an outlet to expunge some of the conflicting and unresolved emotions that inevitably come with getting close to people who are not just like me.  I have experienced more personal questing and growth in the past six years than in the previous twenty, thanks to the wisdom and lives of people whose language I do not even speak.  I know the need to express my gratitude and amazement at such an unanticipated transformation.

So there is my motivation for what you read here from time to time.  I doubt that it represents great writing, tight strategy, effective philanthropy or even observational sociology.  But if it provides even one insight about what is undeniably an injustice to the human condition- and therefore to ourselves- then the writing has been an appropriate use of time.  We are capable of being only as well as those who are around us.  That wellness is global in its scope and the strengthening begins one at a time….

 

 

 

 

 

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Steve Sheppard | November 17, 2011

I passed another of those milestones not long ago, euphemistically called employment anniversaries when they are little more than giant ticks of the clock.  For six years now I have had the privilege to represent Winds of Peace Foundation and talk with whoever might listen about the circumstances and causes-and-effects contributing to Nicaragua’s standing as the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  It’s fantastic work, made especially so by the people I have encountered there, but also due to the continued presence of Founder/Patron Harold Nielsen, my colleague in Nicaragua Mark Lester, and the unwavering support of office administrator Bobbie Jones.  They have all made me feel as though I belong in this role, and from that posture I have become ever-more confident in representing the work that the Foundation has undertaken.

Part of that representation has taken the form of essays, or blogs, which I have placed here.  These musings have been a valuable asset for me to help sort out a multitude of mixed feelings that have occurred to me over these years.  Working between two very distinct cultures and world views, I have often encountered contradictory feelings on a wide range of issues, both political and social in nature.  Writing about such issues has helped me to process those feelings, as well as provide a forum for sharing them with people who have an interest in what Winds of Peace is doing.  I have logged over 100 of these meanderings here; for that I beg your pardon and indulgence.

So it was not unusual this week that I completed writing a piece in follow-up to the November general election in Nicaragua, one in which President Daniel Ortega was re-elected for another five years, to no one’s surprise.  A number of elements surrounding the election felt eerily similar to what I am experiencing here in the U.S. as our own election season gathers steam.  Consequently, I wrote about those similarities as I saw them and drew parallels between the two processes.  It was tough writing for me, and I never got into the flow of the essay in the way that I often do when composing.  When a chance conversation with Mark touched on the aftermath of the Nicaraguan election, I asked him whether he might review my essay and give me his thoughts, which he did.  (It’s not something I ask of Mark; the words are meant to be mine and, besides, Mark doesn’t need the extra work.)  His comments were excellent and presented from the perspective of a Nicaraguan, which he is.  As a result, I chose not to post the article, not because Mark “didn’t like it” or thought it was somehow inappropriate, but because reading it as a Nicaraguan was different than writing it as a North American.  For anyone intent on truly contributing to positive change in Nicaragua, that’s an Achilles heel.

I’ve spent a good deal of time and energy getting to know something about our neighbors to the south.  I’ve traveled there three or four times every year, I read periodicals written by Nicaraguan leaders and academics, I’ve come to know many of the issues facing our three primary partner groups: women, Indigenous people and the rural poor.  We have funded nearly two-hundred projects during my six years.  I even study Spanish (with some futility) so that I might understand more directly the difficulties being expressed by these tenacious and persevering people in their struggle for simply sustainable living.  Mark performs a yeoman’s duty to keep me informed of issues affecting Nicaraguan life.  I read books about the history and legacy of past years.  I do this because I am interested, because Winds of Peace does desire to make a positive impact in the lives of Nicaraguans.  But no matter the number of years nor the length of trips, I will never be Nicaraguan.

I cannot quickly absorb the lingering pains of a war which tore the country apart for so long.  I cannot re-live the seemingly endless natural disasters which have claimed so many lives and livelihoods.  I have not been trapped within a geography which has lent itself to invasion, occupation, exploitation and marginalization.  I have not known, truly lived, in poverty.  Likewise, I cannot feel the sense of familial antiquity, the honor of native generations spent in stewardship of ancestral lands or the pride of being Nicaraguan.  I can know these things, but I cannot live them.

As a result, I come dangerously close to presumption when trying to write with intimacy about political cause and effect, or religious motivation or social condition.  And I cross over the borderline if being prescriptive about how to create change.   My making judgments about the Nicaraguan election is an arrogance, because what I see and what I feel is filtered through my own life experiences, not that of a Nicaraguan.  In the end, comparisons I might feel inclined to make are valid only for me and my very personal perspective.  I have not earned the honor and the right to speak for Nicaraguans;  I can only offer my narrow opinion.  Nicaraguans are owed that respect.  And that’s why there is no election blog here this week, or ever.

As I reflect on these words, I am struck by another truth by extension.  Ultimately, speaking on behalf of ourselves is the best and most that any of us can do, because we do not truly walk in any other man’s or woman’s shoes, only our own.  We can articulate what we believe and why we believe it, we can model that belief and even proclaim why we might feel that someone else might be strengthened by it, but not why they must believe it.  There’s a big difference between those two approaches.  It’s one that I wish was more widely-recognized throughout our country as we seemingly become less tolerant day by day.

It’s one more belief I’ve learned from Nicaragua, and one which those of us who purport to offer assistance and leadership in any endeavor would do well to remember….

 

 

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Steve Sheppard | November 12, 2011

If you have been reading entries here during the past year, you already know that Winds of Peace Foundation has begun an education initiative in Nicaragua in the memory of Louise Nielsen.  (See the sidebar LVN Initiative on our homepage.)  We affectionately refer to it as the “Louise Initiative,” due to its focus on young women in particular and the fact that Louise had such strong feelings about the importance of education for young women everywhere.  We have funded several projects in this first year of the effort and hope to see some “first fruits” of the seeds that were planted over the coming months.  Having become exposed to the reality of Nicaraguan education, it’s a direction that truly feels “right” as a priority for us.

A good deal of what we have heard and read about the plight of Nicaraguan education has to do with the social implications of an undereducated nation. And it’s true that the limitations on education there have contributed mightily to many of the difficulties experienced.  When a large percentage of a nation’s population exits the education system before the fourth grade, social imbalances are certain to exist in ways that create hardships on the very society that permits the secession.  Matters of health, families, gender equality, sexual violence, substance abuse, and technology all impact national development in far-reaching ways, and require at least a minimum educational base for the people who will be required to step up to such issues.  Few would disagree that an educated populace will be far better equipped to address the issues than one which is not.

But the further I acquaint myself with education challenges of a place like Nicaragua,  the more clearly I understand that as great as the impact of undereducation is on social development, education is, at its core, an economic issue.  Simply put, those who are educated for the future are the only ones who will prosper in it.  And that requires financial investment, perseverance and patience on the part of the societies seeking such prosperity.

The days of making a living by virtue of a strong back and a willingness to get dirty are soon to be of the past, even in Nicaragua.  Rural peasants can still plant crops and harvest by hand, but eventually that harvest will be sold.  Increasingly, this means interface with buyers, understanding markets, knowing free trade and fair trade, developing the skills of collaborative work and institutional strengthening.  The desire for such knowledge may be innate in all humans, but the methodologies of its application must be learned.  In a global marketplace, it’s the essence of economic survival.  In todays’s world, educational advancements are not only a national measure, but also a comparison across the world’s economy.  Rural producers in coffee cooperatives may not need an MBA or an understanding of global marketplaces, but they do require an understanding of how their cooperative should be bringing value to their harvests.  They may not require an understanding of Starbuck’s strategic direction over the next five years, but they do need to know the essence of “the game they are playing,” how the score is kept, how runs are scored and what every member’s contribution to the effort must be.  Reliance upon someone else to tell us what we ought to be doing in our own self-interest creates lots of vulnerabilities.  Winds of Peace will continue to seek ways of building sustainable self-reliance in Nicaragua, not only by providing funding of grants and microloans, but also by accentuating the urgency of enhanced education opportunities.

My involvement in such an initiative seems ludicrous in some ways: my own academic profile is, in my view, much less than it could/should have been.  I never starred in any classes, never completed a post-graduate degree, have never worked within an education system, and years ago could barely help my children with their high school math!  I fully recognize that I’ve had far more opportunities for education than my intellect may show.  But I also know that I love to read, and that I have a curiosity about life and living, and an enthusiasm for new ideas and different ways of looking at the world.  I figure that those traits likely arose from my educational endeavors somewhere along the line, and for that I feel very fortunate.  My education did not point me to a successful career, but I know that it opened my mind and my possibilities.

Educational development may be a good thing in its own right, and as a human right.  But at its core, especially in this time of turmoil and ultra-competition, education is an economic matter.  Come to think of it, it’s not only a critical lesson for the people of Nicaragua, but one which we in North America would do well to remember as our own educational and economic grades continue to fall on the global report card….

 

 

 

 

 

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