Something different

I was 5 years old when I was introduced to “the envelope”. It was made of paper, folded in such a way that it became a sort of ersatz collecting tin. The purpose wasn’t to save money, but to donate it. On the long side was a photograph of an African boy. Even as a five-year old, I understood that the child in the photograph was clearly suffering. I remember seeing his ribs, his small face, and his big, round eyes, and it made a deep impression. My mother told me that in Africa, lots of children were starving. There was war there, and many people had been forced to flee their homes, which is why they needed food. I don’t know if I entirely grasped how something like this could happen, but I understood that the child in the photograph was suffering. When I asked what we could do, I was told that we could put money in the envelope. If we did that, the boy with the big eyes would get food. As a small child, my funds were limited, obviously. My entire fortune amounted to 5 kroner. If I gave it all away I would be left penniless, but the alternative would leave that boy hungry. It wasn’t an easy decision. When my mother realised my dilemma, she told me something I’ve never forgotten.

Those who give generously to someone in need will be richly repaid. This was a universal truth, and if you didn’t believe it, you could simply test it. I closed my eyes, and deposited my 5-kroner coin in the envelope. Here goes nothing, I thought.

My birthday was a few weeks later, and something happened that I’ll never forget. I got more presents than I’d ever received before. From that day on I was completely convinced that giving will, in one way or another, always bring its own rewards.

Fast-forward 39 years. I took my own three children to Uganda, with the hope of broadening our horizons a bit. My first stop in Uganda was the Equator School (run by Child Africa). Here, I was asked if I could give a lecture on the importance of teamwork to the teaching staff. My answer, of course, was YES! It turned out to be a fascinating task. Teaching these fine people about teamwork and collaboration was more educational for me than it was for them. When they told me how they worked together, how much they loved their work, and how proud they were of their jobs, I was struck dumb by their enthusiasm. They literally all talked at once about how great their workplace was. Their level of commitment was incredibly high, and when we spoke about our visions and shared aims it became very clear that for this group, an important goal was to take care of their workplace. The reason this was so vital to them was that in a large family, there was often only one person with a job. If he/she lost that job, the whole family was in serious trouble. This motivated the teachers to work hard to be the best school in the area. If they managed that they would be assured a steady flow of students forever, and everyone would get to keep their jobs. Another benefit of working in a good school was pride. They were proud to work there, they all pulled together, and were extremely good at encouraging one another. They had a fantastic way of showing gratitude – they were so pleased with my lecture that they booked me in for a second day, to continue it. Personally, I think it was me who learned from them, but they were so hungry to learn new things that they never turned down an opportunity to do so.

What did I learn?

I don’t need lots of possessions to be happy, helpful, committed, or grateful. It’s not necessarily pay rises that can give life greater meaning. What I need is to do something that engages me, and have people around me who care about me. Last, but not least, I’ve learnt to remind myself of all the things I have in my life, rather than constantly dwelling on what I don’t have. I’ll leave you with one of my favourite sayings: whatever you focus on, expands!

All the best,
Martin