The Value of Being Useless

I'd like to share an essay I wrote for a a recent scholarship proposal. The essay prompt was to describe a cross cultural experience and what I learned from it. Naturally, one instance stood out . . .

I bend over, hands on my knees, and watch with winded gasps as an elderly Ayamara woman ambles slowly beside me before bending over and pulling at least thirty pounds of stones into her shawl. I observe with listless fascination as she heaves the rock-laden shawl over her shoulder and turns around to make her way back to the construction site.

The distance between the rock pile and the unfinished schoolhouse is less than a quarter of a mile, but I can only carry four stones per trip. That being said, watching an elderly woman carry twice my load causes me to drop my head and laugh. I’m traveling with the group Choice Humanitarian to a village outside of La Paz, Bolivia called Jichurasi Suriquiña in order help build a new schoolhouse.

After a few days of working non-stop, nearly every experience I’ve had has left me feeling weak and insufficient before my hosts and quite frankly, I couldn’t be happier with myself. Because while transporting a pile of stones from point A to point B may be helpful in building a schoolhouse, my proudest contribution has been juxtaposing myself beside villagers like the elderly Ayamara woman.

My hope is that when they see my ineptitude to even carry a few stones, they gain a sense of confidence about their own abilities to take care of themselves, and realize their own potential to achieve community development without the help of outsiders such as me. In turn, I see my own uselessness as something of revelation, because I previously thought that I could only offer practical abilities in a cross cultural exchange.

This expedition has made me realize that my exchanges need not be of a professional nature; it could be optimism brought to a team effort, a sense of humor in an awkward situation, or the sense of pride instilled in another person when someone needs their help.

The elderly Ayamara woman turns around to look at me, and laughs when she sees the small stones in my arms. I find myself laughing with her; being useless never felt so great.