What is One Worth?

I learned when telling a family their loved one had died.

One dollar
One vote
One kiss
One minute
One decision
One ________

I’ve written before that I love the phrase “99 is not 100.” This week someone forwarded me a blog that was completed devoted to making fun of Americans who go to Africa as ‘voluntourists.’ She ridiculed photos of African children with white travelers, and abrasively criticized notions of any good work being done. I gave no credence to her opinion but it made me reflect on a couple stories.

As the director of several medical missions to West Africa, I’ve seen hundreds of surgical patients receive our services. Some are routine surgeries; others are so life altering the emotion of it is overwhelming. Occasionally there are very tense moments in the OR when every team member is in the room, hyper-focused. And twice, we have lost patients due to circumstances out of our control.

One was last year. She was a young mother, and the heroic efforts of our whole team were a vision I’ll never forget. Life-saving measures were performed well past the point of hope while we could hear her family singing prayers outside the windows of the makeshift hospital. Her surgeon walked out of the room, shaken in a way I’d never seen him. The rest of us silently went about cleaning the room while the nurses prepared the patient. The grief was palpable, and sharp as we left late that night past the mournful eyes of her family.

The next day, I traveled about an hour away with my translator, and our host physician. I was told I needed to meet with the elders of the patient’s village. While I’ve worked in a medical setting for many years, I’m not a clinician and had never done something like this. On the bumpy, hot drive I rested my head in my hand, tried to calm my nerves and get a grasp on what I would say.

We arrived and the villagers swarmed around us. We walked to a dark hut and went inside to sit with the Chief, some elders, and the patient’s husband and father. As I sat on the dirt floor, I realized I had never felt more inadequate. I was a white woman who wasn’t a doctor going to explain to these people why their loved one had died in our care, through a translator. My mind, and my heart, was racing. But then the entire experience shifted.

We started with a prayer, which included praying for me and our team. As I spoke, I conveyed our most heartfelt sadness. The Chief, and then her husband, consoled me. They said this is an understandable part of life, and that they have also witnessed the miracles of surgery. They said she was called that day by God. And then they thanked me, profusely, for our work. Humility. Humility. Humility.

Her husband took me to meet their young children, and I nearly bit through my cheek as I did all I could to hold myself together. There was no anger, no dirty looks. We simply shared our mourning, tender looks while we tapped our hearts. I waited until I was alone that night to cry.

This “One” had worth. Who could disagree? Because the most valuable “one” is a human interaction of caring, concern and love. Letting someone know they matter to you, whether for a fleeting moment, or a lifetime, is the most powerful measure of “one.”

At Red Dirt, your “one” matters, too. Every product gives someone clean water access for one year through our partnership with Water.org. Every five products gives clean water for one lifetime. Sometimes these words slip too easily off the tongue, or rather, off the keyboard. So this is why Red Dirt intends for each of its products to be a conversation starter. When someone asks you about yours, please tell them the story of the water crisis, and how you helped One.

~ Christina Eldridge, CEO