a breakdown

Do you ever just get frustrated with the way the world is?! I hate that Africans look at me and tell me that I’m supposed to help them. And it’s our own fault – my ancestors have come time and time again to say – white is superior and “here to help.” I hate that I don’t openly trust Africans as easily as I would a Muzungu. I hate what Americans think about Africans and I equally hate what Africans think about Americans. I feel like there is no winning. I’m just at wits end about how people treat one another and the social statuses and the competition – and all you can bring yourself to say is “I can’t take this.” We are so rotten, filled with this sin and that’s what we are. At the end of everyday we’re fallen people.
I have ever been shocked at mud huts and 3rd world countries. I have never gone into someone’s home – made out of palm branches and sticks – and thought, “wow they have nothing.” Is that wrong of me? - That I’ve never been moved by their situation that they have so little. We look at people see everything they don’t have. And somehow we think it’s our place to say that they should live to our standard. I’ve never left somewhere and said gosh – wow – that’s terrible. That sucks.
However, when I walk into the middle class home I think – wow – this sucks. I have been emotionally moved numerous times at these homes – thinking “wow they have so much they don’t need.” They are buying a new TV when they don’t need one – their dishwasher isn’t perfect because it leaves residue – and they have electric toothbrushes instead of the regular plastic ones. I look at that and feel bad. I judge the middle and upper classes just as harshly as they themselves judge the lower class. The oddity is that I’m not lower class. I was raised middle class and I fight it every single day of my life. It’s not easy to consciously decide everyday that I’m not going to pursue material possessions. It’s funny because this house I live in here in Jinja is a better house than the one I live in back home – minus the heating and air.
I can’t stand us - people being perfectionists about coffee, and clothing, and everything else under the sun. We are spoiled people. And I mean spoiled in the literal meaning of – this is rotten and sour. And I’m not saying I’m not the same way. Gosh – I love my avocados to be perfect and I’m a stickler about my paintbrushes. I’m exactly the same as everyone I’m talking about. But so often I stop to look around and realize that I’m the only one fighting it.
And at the end of the day we’re all people. We are all fighting sicknesses, and we never have enough money, and we deal with husbands leaving and babies dying and alcohol addictions and we’re the same! We are all humans everywhere we go and we struggle with the exact same things every single day. The question is not whether or not the human struggle is real. I think there is more question to whether or not the battle goes to the extent we perceive it to be.
How do I give back everything my ancestors have taken from these Africans for the past 600 years? Even just physically existing in this continent I’m reinforcing everything.
I can’t handle it. I really can’t. I feel so helpless and am so angry, frustrated, and disheartened by it all. I want it all to dissolve and Jesus to come back. He’s my only answer and my only peace. And at the end of the day – that’s all I have. That’s my only resolve. I will weep everyday until he comes back to restore us in full completeness.