Young entrepreneur

One of the largest frustrations throughout my service was dealing with people constantly asking for free things. When I first moved into my house, every night the neighbors would send their children over to ask for cooking oil, matches, kerosene, packets of coffee, anything and everything. I knew that being a friendly neighbor and lending a cup of sugar now and then wouldn't work. To give one thing one time establishes the expectation of giving every time, every day. And while at first it was hard to say no to the kids, I knew they'd survived without my help and would continue to do so.

I came up with a few solutions to counter the barrage of requests for food or supplies. I always offered to buy produce from the families- bananas, otoe, wild peach palm, limes, whatever. I would be happy to act as a loyal paying customer, but would always refuse to hand out free money.

Few adults latched onto this, but the kids were captivated. I would pay them for the plantains they had in their house? Ten cents each! Their eyes lit up at the mere idea. Abdiel, my ten-year-old neighbor was my best supplier. If he needed a few cents for a pencil for posterboard for school, he would come over and peddle whatever he had in exchange for a quarter. Or he'd ask me if I wanted anything in particular when he knew his family was headed to the farm. Sometimes the kids would still ask for money for no reason, and I always responded that they had to find a way to earn it. Little Rosibel would busy herself washing dishes, or collecting trash. Milexi might find me some firewood or put some elbow grease into the pots and pans Rosibel just couldn't scrub clean. Asael would cut my lawn, and Nelson would stand there swinging a stick like a machete trying to convince me he was big enough for the job too.

As my departure from site approached, the kids started asking what would become of all the books, puzzles, and games I'd collected over the last two years. These requests were immediately followed by a demand of "give it to me!" which was always met by my explanation of a yard sale so that everyone would have a fair chance. I promised to sell all the "kid things" cheaply, between ten cents and fifty, but if they wanted something, they'd have to think and save their money for that day. This is hard. In a place where every nickel counts, and sometimes there are none at all, adults have trouble managing what little they have and planning for a rainly day. I was asking a lot.

Abdiel came by a couple of days before and asked about a game of Trouble I had. He'd had his eye on it since I bought it and had played it countless times while visiting. I told him it cost fifty cents, and he'd better start thinking about how he was going to get that money or else someone else would buy it.

I saw a mixture of excitement and defeat in his eyes. Fifty cents is a lot to these kids and I could tell he thought I was being unnecessarily miserly. Then he smiled and told me he'd figure something out and I better not tell anyone else the game is available.

Ten minutes later he came back with five pieces of wild palm and asked if I wanted to buy them. I handed him his quarter and he smiled and said, "Only one more quarter to go."

I heated up some refried beans to dip the palm in, and he came back over and sat down at the table with me. We talked for a few minutes before he said, "Give me an egg for my dad to eat with dinner? We don't have any meat to eat with the bananas." In my crotchityness, I reminded him that I just paid him a quarter, and the only person whose dinner I am responsible for is my own. If he needs an egg that badly, he should use his own money to buy it at the store across the street.

"If I do that I won't have the fifty cents to buy the game," he said.

I told him that's not my problem and reminded him he still had a few more days to earn more money. At that point, most other kids would have sensed their defeat and called me selfish or mean, but Abdiel just sat there quietly for a few minutes. I thought the conversation was over and was about to send him home when he said, "Well, what if I buy an egg for my dad, and then I could sell you ten more peach palms for five cents each and then I would have 50 cents?"

I wanted to hug him. And you know this early purchase was technically breaking the rules of the yard sale, but I was so proud of his problem-solving and resourcefulness that I said "It's a deal!" He grinned and ran off to collect my produce.

Somehow, that moment felt like one of the most successful in my entire service. In two years a boy went from only asking and expecting free things, to figuring out some simple solutions to earn what he needs or wants. It's a kind of empowerment even a lot of adults here don't feel. These quiet moments of tiny success are what made my service more rewarding. You never know how much you affect one person, and results are sometimes impossible to see. Peace Corps humbles its volunteers because it shows us how hard it is to do the smallest things, and how little change we can really spark in two years. I don't know if I really taught him anything or if he would have eventually figured it out on his own. Maybe I was just a supportive customer.

I hope he always stays as motivated and pro-active as he is at ten.