Number of Days Officially Unemployed: 159
EDD Check: $250 per week
Money Raised for Bhutanese Family: $370
The IRC's First Things First school, where our Bhutanese family's mother goes during the day to learn English and other life and work skills, is holding a fundraiser this evening. The flier doesn't say much more than the open house at the school grounds will include two sessions, music, and food. I assume we're going to eat some great food, listen to some music, and drop $15 or so in a cash jar.
So I'm a little surprised when we sign in that we're handed auction paddles with a number on one side and a picture of a refugee child on the other, along with a list of items on which we can bid. The items aren't things you take home, but things you can buy for the school. The list includes everything from a $10,000 playground at the top all the way down to $9 worth of diapers, which is probably what I'll end up bidding on. The school has to make $25,000 worth of upgrades and improvements to gain certification as a childcare facility, which will then make them self-sufficient and eligible for reimbursements and other forms of funding. (You can read more about the school and donate here if you like.)
When we sit down, the school's coordinator talks about what the goals are, and then a couple former students, African women dressed in long skirts and black Muslim headscarves, tell their stories about getting jobs after "graduating" from the school. Before the auction begins, the coordinator tell us to help ourselves to the food table, where there's Ethiopian rice, tofu spring rolls, and Indian samosas. It's about six o' clock, and I haven't eaten dinner, so I can't take my eyes off the food table, which is on the opposite side of the event. "You always look so desperate around food. Why is that?" Etel says. I have a reputation for sustained attacks on food tables at parties––well past the point of being full. I don't know what it is about appetizers on tables, but I lose all self-control.
(Here I am caught in the act at Etel's birthday party the very next night) 
When the professional auctioneer begins the bidding process with the $10,000 playground, no one is surprised that bidding paddles don't rise. People in the small crowd of about 50 even chuckle. In a reverse move on how normal auctions work, he drops the bidding price to $5,000, then $2,000, then $1,000, then $500, and still no paddles rise. He says, "How about a hundred bucks? Can I get anyone to give me a hundred dollars for that playground?" Etel raises her paddle, being the first bidder. I look at her, surprised.
"What?" she says. "I gave myself a budget of $200." Well, I had no idea. "What did you think, that you were going to come to a fundraiser and not spend any money?" I tell her I thought maybe I'd give ten to fifteen dollars. The bidding moves on, and a young man drops $500 on another item. People begin bidding hundreds here and there, and I'm impressed. I get caught up in the moment, in the spirit of the thing, and want to bid. I peruse the list and think maybe I can bid on an $85 item.
When the time arrives, I hesitate, and someone else bids on the $85 item. The aucioneer asks if anyone else also wants to bid $85, and he'll "move the money around." I decide it's too much, but I see a $50 item (a crib, I think) on the list, and decide that's more reasonable for me. He asks for bids on the $50 cribs, which they need three of, and my paddle raising is met by eight or more other people. I guess fifty was the magic number. Etel leans over and says, "Fifty dollars is pretty impressive for a guy who's unemployed."
Maybe it's not the wisest move for me right now, but in the big picture––where I spend money on much dumber things––I can afford to help the school, which does great work. Plus I feel like I scored some hero points with Etel, who finishes by bidding on bed sheets.
With the auction done, a Burmese man begins playing beautiful music on his saung, a Burmese string harp, and I head straight for the food table. I impatiently wait while some children dish rice and samosas onto their plates. I go light at first––one chicken samosa, one spring roll piece, and a little Ethiopian rice––but when I see a man putting more food out, I return for seconds. I also eat at least two of the small desserts being passed around by Somalian women. Etel looks at me downing my second helping of food and says, "So desperate."
No comments:
Post a Comment