"There is nothing to do there."
The quote above is one I have heard frequently about remote, isolated communities. My experience, especially during the first decade of my life, compels me to debate this. In the end, I realize why.
Of course, there are places where people have lost their way. Without food sovereignty and self-sufficiency, finding something fun or meaningful to do may seem daunting.
I grew up on a remote island. At the time, none of our neighbours had cars, or televisions, or refrigerators, or even indoor toilets. We had no choice but to walk, lift, squat, push, pull and climb in our day to day duties. Without modern conveniences, we had to work hard to live.
The clothes we wore were designed and sewn at home. Laundry was hand-washed and hung out to dry. Making the bed required hand fluffing the straw or corn husk filled mattress before arranging the covers. Child and elder care was an extended family duty.
We ate what we grew and what nature provided. We harvested, preserved and shared. Our bread was naturally leavened and baked at home.
There was always some religious festival to look forward to celebrating. It was a community effort that required a lot of planning and preparation.
In the evenings, when the workday was over, neighbours gathered on occasion. My father often played harmonica while my mother sang like an angel. Grandma told stories.
We did experience natural disasters like floods and earthquakes. Such events inevitably would lead to our temporarily becoming better Christians, working and praying even harder. We believed natural disasters occurred because we had sinned or we were not living harmoniously in our environment.
I learned to knit, crochet, embroider, sew, cook and clean. If I wanted a doll, I sewed one using mom’s fabric remnants. I attached dried corn cob silk for hair. I made doll clothes and bedding. I even built furniture out of matchboxes. I was creative in my play as I apprenticed for the future. There was so much to do.
When you have to produce and prepare all the food you eat, clothe and shelter your family, care for loved ones and community, there is no time for boredom. Boredom is a luxury.
Am I idealizing the past? Not at all. Today, I love my easy access to information and the comforts of a modern home. I am grateful for accessible health care in case of an emergency. I feel safe and secure.
It is a privilege to have the time to sit and read. When my curiosity compels me to research, I can easily do so without leaving home. What a luxury! Especially during a lockdown, I often find something that needs sewing or decorating, chores to do and food to prepare.
Nothing will work unless you do.
~ Maya Angelou
There is always something meaningful to do. It was not optional when our purpose was mere survival. But today, overcoming boredom may require some effort if we have no hobbies or if we have become accustomed to outsourcing household duties and being entertained.
Where we live, learn, work, and play in our formative years impacts our health and well-being
Sadly, there are those living in food deserts where residents only have access to processed foods, alcohol or other numbing substances and grow up entertained by watching television. Indeed, it may seem that there is nothing to do there. Boredom, in this environment, is far from luxurious. It’s depressing.
To improve well-being in such an environment, we need to facilitate access to higher quality food production (food sovereignty), create safety and security, increase natural movement, and provide culturally appropriate education to instil self-respect in the early years.
…introversion is my greatest strength. I have such a strong inner life that I’m never bored and only occasionally lonely. No matter what mayhem is happening around me, I know I can always turn inward.
~ Susan Cain
I recognize that my offerings may not resonate with all. I am aware that extroverts, who feel energized by crowds and interaction with others in the external world, may continue to struggle in remote, isolated communities. What works for me may not work for them. Like Susan Cain, as an introvert, I have such a full inner life that I’m never bored. For me, some solitude is a blessing.
Having nothing to do can inspire greater creativity and self-sufficiency. Indeed, for some, it can be a luxury. I am thankful that my upbringing equipped me well to avoid relying on external sources of entertainment. I aspire to help future generations learn to be creative when there seems to be nothing to do.
Okay, I will admit I am rambling. As I read and re-read this blog, I finally realize why I am triggered when I hear someone say there is nothing to do there. I project that domestic work and the arts are valued less in a cultural setting where people have always had the privilege to outsource these tasks.
The photo I shared was one of few from my childhood. I cropped out the headlights of a car. The picture was taken by a wealthy American visitor.
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