A Letter 13 Years Overdue
How Melinda Gates inspired me to write it
For the last 13 years I have been sponsoring a child in Niger named Fadjimata. I was in the 10th grade and remember sifting through piles of children’s pictures from all over the world. It was a strange feeling, as if I had to choose who lived and who did not. Unable to make a decision, I closed my eyes, grabbed a picture, and signed on the dotted line. Each month, for the last 13 years, my bank account has been debited $26.00 and each time I imagine that Fadjimata is getting some school supplies, or a cow, or whatever else she needs.
I did not imagine that this “relationship” would last this long. Once a year, I receive a low quality photograph of her and a progress report. It includes a drawing and has answers to questions like, “I help my family at home by carrying water and preparing food”, “my favorite color is yellow”, and “my best friend’s name is Oummi.” For someone I have never met, I am incredibly curious about her. I wonder if she still wants to be a teacher, or if she ever wonders about me. Sometimes I even wonder if they would tell me if she died, or would they keep sending me some random picture of a girl to continue receiving my donations?
The organization I donate through gives me the option of writing letters to Fadjimata. Each time I begin to write to her, I stop. What do I possibly tell this 15 year-old girl? “Hey, I will be flying to Arizona to visit my mom, I have two dogs that are like my children, and I’m currently studying for my masters degree.” Possibly, but what I hear in my head is, “I have been able to donate to you for the last 156 months because I got lucky. I was born to a middle-class American family that afforded me a life in which all my needs have been met, and more.” Each time I try to connect with her, the guilt I feel about what I have, and what I think she does not have, prevents me from finishing the letter. What can I tell her about me that she will be able to relate to?
On the flight back from visiting my mom, I read the Alaska Airlines Magazine feature article on Melinda Gates. The Gate’s Foundation created a $44 billion dollar philanthropy on the belief that “all lives have equal value.” My $26.00 per month feels like a grain of sand compared to the Gate’s ocean, but the article adamantly reassures the reader
“it does not require a fortune to change the world” and “let’s not be afraid to fail. In fact, let’s be afraid to not try.”
As I look at the picture of Melinda sitting next to a mother and baby in India, I notice their smiling faces and realize that their similarities outweigh their differences. They are both mothers, who are giving their best shot at leaving the world a better place for their children.
The key to recognizing the equal value in each life starts with focusing on similarities rather than differences between people.
If one of the wealthiest people on the earth can find commonalities with a poor mother in India, I can find something in common with Fadjimata, even if it starts with our favorite color. If I operate from the belief that all lives have equal value, then I should not have such hard time writing to her. First step, get over myself and my fears of not being able to connect with her. Second step, write my first letter to Fadjimata.
