Week of October 11, 2009: The Survival of Mankind

I read a book several years ago called, "The Mountain People" by archeologist Colin M. "Ik"  It was required reading for a course I was taking but it turned out to be one of the most interesting books I would ever read, and one that altered my perspective.

The Ik were relocated by the Kenyan government, who seized their land, decades ago to an area that was subject to extreme conditions of drought.  This relocation permanently altered the culture of this tribe in an extreme way. 

Over time, due to the deprivation of life's necessities, their culture suffered the loss of life's luxuries - including those that Western civilization would consider essential to human existence.  The Ik people had a very short life span and by the age of 30, you were considered an elder.  Children were cast out at the age of 2 to fend for themselves and formed groups to increase their odds of survival. 

What Mr. Turnbull discovered in the Ik was that perhaps love is a luxury that we can afford, even in the poorest of areas.  But when one's very survival is at stake, love becomes a luxury that people cannot afford.  The Ik had no room for compassion, kindness, affection, companionship.  They lived a harsh life where their time was devoted to their basic needs - water, food, shelter.  That's it.

He gave examples of how this played out in Ik society.  Many stick out vividly in my mind although its been about 15 years since I read the book.  But the one story that really made its imprint is a story about a group of young boys who were throwing rocks at an "elder" who had fallen and hurt herself.  As she lay there, unable to get up, they taunted her, they harmed her, they ridiculed her. 

Mr. Turnbull understood that his role was as an observer and that he should not interfere with their society, but felt compelled to assist this woman.  He could not stand idly by while she lay there helpless and coming to further harm by this band of young boys.  So he shooed them away and helped her up.

The woman turned to him and said she wished he had not done so.  With tears in her eyes, she said his assistance reminded her of the "old days" when her people were not like this and that its caused her great pain. 

I heard on the Writer's Almanac last Thursday the following quote from Phillip Booth:

"I think survival is at stake for all of us all the time. … Every poem, every work of art, everything that is well done, well made, well said, generously given, adds to our chances of survival."

In the Ik society, it seems, their art is the art of finding water in a drought stricken land; their poetry is the poetry of the hunt; and the only thing well done is to live another day.  That which is done in generosity is contrary to their survival because it illustrates the lack of community in their lives.

For a woman who is intent on spreading a contagion of compassion, this makes me think. Perhaps there are those better off without the compassion of others.  Perhaps compassion is not kindness when extended to those who do not wish it.  Perhaps compassion is a luxury I can afford since my I live in a society that values such attributes. 

Who am I to ask that others reach out to extend themselves to strangers that might not appreciate their gestures? 

Last winter, the renters in the apartment downstairs from us were such people.  During a snowstorm, we had just had the driveway plowed and were situating the cars when they pulled in behind me.  He got out screaming obscenities and demanding that I move my car right that second.  Confused, we tried to figure out why they were responding with such anger.  Turns out, during such a terrible snow storm, they had gotten a flat and struggled to get the car home.  We offered our assistance repeatedly but they did not want it.  They simply expected to pull into the driveway and change out the flat - aggravated at the fact that it had happened.  We were in their way literally, and figuratively.  They wanted none of what we offered.

They moved out a few months later and the thick air was finally lifted.  They were angry people and no amount of compassion could soothe them. 

That's bound to happen from time to time but when someone is in need of compassion and experiences the full measure of gratitude that you reached out to say, "what can I do?" it gives you a sense of completeness.  You know that you have done good work and that your life has meaning.  And that happens far more often.