Not long ago I was sitting next to a friend at a dinner party and talk turned to the television program we been watching a few nights earlier. The show, 'Millionaire's Mission', followed the experience of eight self-made British millionaires in Uganda, as they sought to use their entrepreneurial skills to create innovative, sustainable solutions to poverty.
Our discussion centered around the very different definitions of 'success' that seemed to be at the heart of a number of the cross-cultural misunderstandings that took place at the outset.
One of the millionaires was incredibly frustrated that members of the village had failed to turn up to a meeting arranged by the entrepreneurs to discuss their needs, assuming that because the discussion centered around much needed finance -- it would be prioritized. The representative from World Vision overseeing the millionaires, was at pains to point out that they had called a meeting with very little regard for existing responsibilities of community members.
As I considered this, it highlighted the divergent ways in which different cultures or communities understand the value of 'success' and how we define it. In our quest for financial success it's easy to underestimate the value of 'success' in other aspects of our lives -- relationships with our partners, our parents, our children, and our community.
A number of years ago, I spent time living in rural Tanzania. I had come out of a highly pressurized environment that was incredibly results driven -- and suddenly found myself thrown into a small rural community that at its very core, highly prized the value of relationships.
I clearly remember asking what my schedule would look like before I left the UK. I was so used to having every aspect of my life planned out, that I couldn't imagine how I would function without some kind of timetable.
Soon I settled into a new way of being -- my afternoons were spent with neighbors -- laughing and talking, sitting together, learning how to weave raffia to make matting, or grind 'mahindi' (corn) to make maize flour.
These wonderful families welcomed me into their home. They gave generously of the very little they had. They were lavish in their welcome, in their investment and willingness to get to know me and to share their life with me.
One morning, as I lay in bed -- in that 'twilight' state between asleep and awake, I heard a noise from across the road. It was like nothing I had ever heard before; it was a raw wailing, filled with pain.
My neighbor's son had died. He was just six months old.
What followed was a time of deep despair and grief -- that a life should be taken away so prematurely, and so unnecessarily. But in the midst of such bitter sadness, there was solidarity, community. Love.
Neighbors and friends came and sat with Stella, who had lost her young son; singing songs, comforting her -- sharing in her grief. Other friends took it upon themselves to stay at the home, cooking for the endless stream of guests and family members who journeyed to the village for the funeral. Nothing was too much.
As I work to enable clients to help alleviate the economic poverty of others, I often think how much we need the assistance of those very 'poor' men and women to remind us of own poverty. We may be cash rich, but there's a danger that we become emotionally and spiritually bankrupt.
What these millionaires were trying to do, and succeeding at doing - was without a doubt, incredibly valuable. As we give, we need to be prepared to learn from the success of others -- to retain our humility and acknowledge that we gain much from the lives and wisdom of those with whom we share our relative wealth.
The value of success lies beyond the dollars in our bank account.