We went to the most interesting beach today, it was called Kokrobite Beach and we hung out most of the day at a resort called Wild Bill's (or something like that). The entire day was nice, amazing, relaxing but also unsettling. After driving through a small fishing village so poor and rural that the sheep didn't even want to move for us, we arrived at this resort (sort of) full of Rasta and tourism. It was like three cultures colliding next to the large boats on the sand looking out over the rough Atlantic. There were little shops and stands where visitors could buy their African/Rasta attire, and African children running around asking us what our names were (we also saw some older men with the coolest dreads, they were basically ankle length, it was intense). Although I had a great time playing in the waves and laying in the sand, there was something weird about today: I didn't (and still don't) know how to feel about being a rich white person wearing a bikini in a place where many local women (a large part of that particular village is Muslim) walked around with head-coverings. How am I supposed to feel about being a privileged woman going to a beach resort and driving through immense poverty to get there? Should I feel bad? Should I ignore it as a fact of life? I felt sort of like I was spitting in the face of Jesus...So this presents the struggle of every well meaning American who visits the third world... how do my riches meet their poverty? I could not have gotten out of the van and handed out money. What should we do, how should we respond to, the immense riches we have been given? I've begun to think that we are called to enjoy, be thankful for, and use wisely the riches we have been blessed with...but what does that even mean? Where is the line between thankfully enjoying and extravagance? Even if I find this line, I'll still feel guilty...
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