It's a crazy world we live in, don't you think? That 80% of the world's population lives on less than $10 a day (1), when we could easily spend that much daily at Starbucks back home. This past week in Huahine, we spent the majority of our time in a community that by western monetary standards might be considered "poor"; talking in class today about the people we met and the experiences we shared, however, made me think that perhaps we are the ones who live in poverty... Simply a poverty of a different kind.

The community of Haapu lives in large part off the land and lagoons around them. They rely on their family and community to work together to keep the ocean healthy, steward their resources wisely, and educated their youth to do the same. They care for each other in a way that to us, coming from cold, independently-minded Seattle, seems completely foreign.

I remember feeling, after one of the mamas took the bead necklace off her neck and hung it over mine instead, that we had come so empty handed. Not just as far as gifts to give, but in knowledge or traditions to share. They taught us to weave headbands, bake coconut bread, find and prepare shellfish, and sing and dance songs from Huahine. They prepared our meals, drove us around the island, and walked with us to visit sacred Maraes. They spent hours practicing dances, games, and songs to share with us, and laughed WITH and AT us as we played along. They entrusted us, a group of students and outsiders, with knowledge and stories that are sacred to them, investing hours into sharing their culture with us.

In the end, it seemed like all we could share with them was our time, our listening ears, and our willingness to learn, but the scale, I feel, was far from balanced. "Pay them back by taking what they shared with you and learning from it," one of our professors encouraged us this morning during our group debrief. "Honor them by sharing the wisdom and values that they showed you with people back home."

Just Imagine it for a minute: neighborhoods in Seattle sharing from their gardens, watching each other kids, and sitting around the BBQ in the backyard every night, talking for hours at a time... It sounds more like something out of Utopia than real life. Sure it happens, in some neighborhoods, maybe once a year. But so often we live our own lives in our own little worlds, happy to be independent and self-sufficient, not thinking about what we lose when we give up community, not stopping to think about how our decisions impact the world around us. We saw first hand that it really is possible to live off the land, sustainably, in community, without a retirement fund or PHD or tennis club. Sure, Americans are proud of their big bank accounts and fancy cars. But no one goes hungry in Haapu. No one is homeless or unknown. Whatever they might be missing financially or monetarily, Haapu is one of the riches places, relationally and culturally, I have ever been. There are a number of ways to be wealthy, I'm learning, and they're not all created equal. Where will I store up my treasure? Where will I invest my time? Where will my loyalties lie? What will my priorities be? This are not just questions, but also choices.

"Let's not kid ourselves, we're probably not going to change the world," our professor said toward the end of our debrief, "But each of us can make a difference for the better in the lives of those around us." I know we can never repay their kindness, but I hope we can honor the people of Haapu by taking the values they shared with us on this journey, working to make a difference, if even just a small one, in the lives of those we meet along the way.

Keep the earth below my feet,

From my sweat my blood runs weak,

Let me learn from where I have been,

Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn.

- "Below My Feet" by Mumford & Son

1. Poverty Facts and Stats, globalissues.org, http://www.globalissues.org/article/26/poverty-facts-and-stats