28.10.04
The road men moved out because they hadn't had water in 20 days. I think it partly has to do with the fact that they're at the top of the slope, and we're at the bottom, so their water pressure runs out before ours. It had been 4 for us, though longer for hot water. Because we hadn't had a shower on the last day before it went away, I probably went 6 days without one. I finally stopped waiting and washed my hair over the sink with a pitcher of water. When the water came back, and then hot water a few days after that, it was like a spa, even though taking a shower here is like taking a shower back home in faucet drips after you turn the shower off.
There are three of the road guys in particular that we usually see at mealtime in the restaurant. One is getting white hair. He's this funny, goofy guy who grew up in a village in north-western Ethiopia, probably a lot like the kids we see everyday. He makes us laugh and complains about the food. "Meat, meat, meat, everything is meat. You think I'm a hyena or something?"
Their project is a new road between here and Addis, and the big new sign about it on the corner says it's supposed to be 93 km long, and take until 2007. These guys are the Ethiopian engineers who have been hired by the international contractor based in India, who was hired by the government in Addis to be in charge of the project. The people who will do the actual road
building are a Korean firm who won the bid. The actual labourers, the people who get sunburned and sweaty, will be south-east Asians, not Ethiopians, even though labor is so cheap here. The engineers say the Koreans don't like to work with Ethiopians because they don't put up with abuse and intimidation the way, say, Bangladeshis do. It's horrible.
This is where the whole "voting with your feet" thing gets complicated for me. It's easy enough to say, "I don't support something or other about such and such a company, so I'm not going to shop there or invest in it, etc. etc." And my first instinct when I hear about labour and abuse and intimidation is to say, "I'll never use that road." But honestly, (not, "Does it really matter?" No, of course it matters. It would still matter if only three of us in the world decided something like that and acted on it) is that kind of rule for myself anything less than a superficial act? Can I
really feel like I'm standing for my principles when I refuse to use that road, but use the old one every day without knowing what kind of labour and abuse and intimidation made it?
What I realize is that it requires that I either change my standard of morality in this kind of thing, or that I at least acknowledge the limitations of this standard. How can I live in the world and not of the world in this sense? I can't. My life is too inextricably woven through things that I don't stand for, both ideologically, and hopefully, practically. Who made the computer I'm writing on, and under what conditions? Do I support everything Dell does or supports? Is that a
requirement for me supporting them with my purchase? (Besides the point is the fact that Andy bought this computer almost seven years ago, before I even knew he existed.) Who made the plastic bottle I'm drinking bottled water out of? As I look around me, I realize there are very few items in our room that would qualify for me to have them in good concience, under this
rule.
Its like the Atonement: it's not enough to just have your virtuous acts outweigh your vile ones, and its not enough to just want to be or believe you are virtuous. The most you can do, and this will have to be acceptable to you and hopefully the rest of the world, is the most you can do. You can't stop trying, even if you know you'll never completely achieve the synchronicity between how you would like to be and how you are. With the Atonement, the beautiful thing is that with that kind of effort, it is enough. Or, what is not enough, becomes enough because the Saviour makes up for what you lack.
(I think the Atonement parallel is apt, because these kinds of decisions--to use this road or not, to shop here or not, whether they be for human-rights reasons or environmental reasons--in the end they're all about moral choices and moral attitudes. This is what (well, among other things) the Atonement deals with as well.)
Even Wendell Berry, who writes with a pencil and farms with horses, still uses airplanes and telephones and recognizes he can't be completely independent from what it is he has dedicated his life to change.
There are three of the road guys in particular that we usually see at mealtime in the restaurant. One is getting white hair. He's this funny, goofy guy who grew up in a village in north-western Ethiopia, probably a lot like the kids we see everyday. He makes us laugh and complains about the food. "Meat, meat, meat, everything is meat. You think I'm a hyena or something?"
Their project is a new road between here and Addis, and the big new sign about it on the corner says it's supposed to be 93 km long, and take until 2007. These guys are the Ethiopian engineers who have been hired by the international contractor based in India, who was hired by the government in Addis to be in charge of the project. The people who will do the actual road
building are a Korean firm who won the bid. The actual labourers, the people who get sunburned and sweaty, will be south-east Asians, not Ethiopians, even though labor is so cheap here. The engineers say the Koreans don't like to work with Ethiopians because they don't put up with abuse and intimidation the way, say, Bangladeshis do. It's horrible.
This is where the whole "voting with your feet" thing gets complicated for me. It's easy enough to say, "I don't support something or other about such and such a company, so I'm not going to shop there or invest in it, etc. etc." And my first instinct when I hear about labour and abuse and intimidation is to say, "I'll never use that road." But honestly, (not, "Does it really matter?" No, of course it matters. It would still matter if only three of us in the world decided something like that and acted on it) is that kind of rule for myself anything less than a superficial act? Can I
really feel like I'm standing for my principles when I refuse to use that road, but use the old one every day without knowing what kind of labour and abuse and intimidation made it?
What I realize is that it requires that I either change my standard of morality in this kind of thing, or that I at least acknowledge the limitations of this standard. How can I live in the world and not of the world in this sense? I can't. My life is too inextricably woven through things that I don't stand for, both ideologically, and hopefully, practically. Who made the computer I'm writing on, and under what conditions? Do I support everything Dell does or supports? Is that a
requirement for me supporting them with my purchase? (Besides the point is the fact that Andy bought this computer almost seven years ago, before I even knew he existed.) Who made the plastic bottle I'm drinking bottled water out of? As I look around me, I realize there are very few items in our room that would qualify for me to have them in good concience, under this
rule.
Its like the Atonement: it's not enough to just have your virtuous acts outweigh your vile ones, and its not enough to just want to be or believe you are virtuous. The most you can do, and this will have to be acceptable to you and hopefully the rest of the world, is the most you can do. You can't stop trying, even if you know you'll never completely achieve the synchronicity between how you would like to be and how you are. With the Atonement, the beautiful thing is that with that kind of effort, it is enough. Or, what is not enough, becomes enough because the Saviour makes up for what you lack.
(I think the Atonement parallel is apt, because these kinds of decisions--to use this road or not, to shop here or not, whether they be for human-rights reasons or environmental reasons--in the end they're all about moral choices and moral attitudes. This is what (well, among other things) the Atonement deals with as well.)
Even Wendell Berry, who writes with a pencil and farms with horses, still uses airplanes and telephones and recognizes he can't be completely independent from what it is he has dedicated his life to change.
posted by Johanna Buchert Smith at 2:31 PM
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