The fisherman's wife

Before the sun has a chance to advance, the fisherman's wife attacks with the daily bustle. Gathering together her daily supplies, she stealthily picks her way around her darkened home. Her sleeping baby rests into the back of her spine, swaddled by vibrant colors, breath matched with breath.

She marches to the market, basket on head, baby on back: a delicate balance requiring expertise and strength. She makes her way along the well-trodden path, arriving to the field of ordered chaos just as dawn begins to break. Without waking her child, she spreads out her artillery: fish, okra, garden eggs and a handful of ripe green peppers. The winning combination for a nutritious meal sit at her station, awaiting combat.

The bargaining begins and she tirelessly surges ahead, advancing on the lethal rays of sun. By the end of the day, she gathers her cast off shells with her resting child, preparing to retreat for the night.

Upon reaching her home, she greets her husband with the profits from the day and a small meal. Making just barley enough to satisfy his fee, she and her child go to sleep.

Hungry.

Without earning more than her husband requires, the fisherman's wife is unable to purchase the food necessary to feed her or her child. Despite the abundance of nutrients existing before the day's work, she and her child must go hungry to survive in the future. If they go hungry today, perhaps they will eat tomorrow. Perhaps her husband will be less hungry.

This is the life of too many in the fishing villages of Cape Coast and Elmina. Despite the abundance of fresh fish and other goods, malnutrition is on the rise. In order to compete with the market economy, social hierarchy dominates: man, woman, then child. When a woman is unable to sell her goods at a high enough price, she lacks the money necessary to purchase additional food. She must feed her husband, the worker of the family, before herself or her child.

In a village in the north that has an abundance of wild chickens, it is said, "Not eating the chicken will kill the child. Eating the chicken will kill the family."

What is the price of a life?

Another.

The price tag on life means everything for this fisherman's wife. Her husband's life is worth the most, followed by hers, followed by her child's. In a country where the children are raised by the village, children are the first to starve.

Where are the ethics? What is the sense? When the food is available, why not feed oneself before attempting to bite into the market?

Because in a market economy, involvement in the market is equivalent (if not greater than) eating to survive. Without a place in the market, one can never advance in life. One's children will never be able to catch up. Rent will never be paid and human capital alone is not enough to survive. Without a presence in the market, one is doomed into a downward cycle. At least in the market, there is hope.

With the market in its current state, what is the sense? The fisherman's wife is competeing in an economy that is faltering, an economy that the entire world is scrutinizing, wondering what will happen next. Why are we trying to develop countries by integrating them into a failing system?

Why can a community not function by sustaining itself? If a community banded together to live off of its own goods, utilized the government's responsibility to educate its children, and worked in cooperation with, but not necessarily soley on, the market system, would advancement be possible? Is human capital enough?

While the trend is leaning towards development via microcredit, I can't help but wonder if our values are in order. Is it right to allow a child to starve in order to earn hope for the future? What is the sense in allowing the very generation we are trying to provide hope to wither away in starvation?

Will the battle with the market ever be won? Is there a chance, or are children around the world dying in vain?