Shea: In Ethiopia, clarity on what's important, necessary and neither

There are just three things in this world. Things that are important (whether necessary or not). Things that aren't important but are necessary. And everything else — things that are neither important nor necessary. Pretty straightforward. Given that our time, energy, and resources are limited, we must make choices. Whether deliberate or thoughtless, these choices — and our priorities (or lack thereof) — impact our own well-being and that of everyone else on the planet. Though it's not for me to judge what "important" or "necessary" might mean to you, I do believe it's clear that we — as a nation — are drowning ourselves in crap that is neither. And it's bad for all of us.

Living in the Horn of Africa for several months has only made this clearer. The United Nation's Human Development Index (HDI) is one of the better measures of well-being of people around the world — factoring in life expectancy, education, per capita income, etc. Ethiopia scores 171st of 191 nations on the list. Here in Addis Ababa, I’m regularly reminded what I take for granted — reliable electricity, clean water, good health care, basic infrastructure, political stability, etc. I’ve seen some of the worst poverty in my home country — both urban and rural — but even the state ranking 50th on HDI in the United States (Mississippi) is way ahead of any country in East Africa. Remembering what's important and what's necessary is simpler here.

I’m living a short walk from the school I’m helping to establish, just down the busy road between Goro and Summit — wonderfully chaotic with people, cars, horses, dogs, Bajaj tuk-tuks, cows, buses, donkeys, trucks, and goats. My apartment is strikingly empty — a sofa, a table and chairs, a bed — with a simple kitchen, no heat nor air conditioning, no dishwasher nor clothes dryer, no television. I love it. As I do the 10 flights of stairs — down and back up once or twice a day.

Electricity, internet, and running water are unreliable — and we roll with it. There is no mail, nor street names or addresses.

Ethiopian food is delicious, inexpensive, eaten by hand using the injera with which it's served, and always shared. Dinner sometimes includes Tej, a homemade wine fermented from honey, water and gesho. The grocery stores I walk to are much smaller than the typical American convenience store — one choice of peanut butter, three types of cereals, lentils in unmarked bags, a toiletries section less than a meter wide, no diet sodas of any kind. Transactions are on a simple cash (birr) basis. Fruits, vegetables, and eggs are bought from street vendors; nothing has come from more than 50 miles away. Waste is minimal.

There are no big box stores anywhere. Amazon does not deliver in Ethiopia. No one does. If it weren't for the heartbreaking poverty, it might be pretty close to perfect.

The clarity is striking — in your head and your heart — when you rise above what is neither important nor necessary. We don't fully understand the burden or distraction of it all – until we eliminate it. Which is hard to do in the United States. Consumption, consumerism and materialism are central to our economy (though the problem isn't capitalism, it's our values). We’re 5% of the world's population, but we consume close to 20% of the world's goods and services. And energy. Our calendars are cluttered with trivialities. We thoughtlessly waste 30% of the food we produce. We know none of this is good for our planet, our children, or our species. But we’re hooked and we’re insatiable. We want exactly what we want and we want it now. Without thought or effort. Lazy, picky, selfish — we are turning our brains and bodies to mush. And we’re taking the world down with us.

Eliminating what is neither important nor necessary gives us more space to focus on what matters — thoughtfully and deliberately. My matters of importance are mostly people, values, priorities. The fundamental necessities of life. And some material things — but not too many. The measure of a fulfilling life isn't how much we can acquire, but how little we need — and maximizing the time, energy, resources (and love) devoted to what matters most. And when we strip away all the unnecessary garbage, we realize we have more capacity — to not only care for ourselves, families, and friends, but for our brothers and sisters around the world and down the street.

As for the "unimportant but necessary" stuff, minimizing is the key. Keep the list short and be stingy with your time, energy, resources. Clothes, toiletries, cars, yard work, bills, technology, apps, chores around the house, etc. The minutia of everyday life will overwhelm you if you let it. The ordinary things we shouldn't mind become a hassle. The simple becomes complicated. Counting pairs of socks and shoes as one item each, and including three ties, one belt, and a rain jacket, I have precisely 19 articles of clothing here with me in Addis Ababa. I do not mind doing the laundry. And no one enjoys cleaning a kitchen that's a disastrous mess of gadgets and waste — but several plates, some glasses, and a few serving dishes after a thoughtfully prepared meal with friends is altogether different. Before enlightenment, chopping wood, carrying water … after enlightenment, chopping wood, carrying water.

We won't all agree on what's important, necessary, or neither — but I hope we agree we can do better. Each of us on our own terms — thoughtfully, with a clear head, and an open heart. And keeping in mind there are 20 countries ahead of the United States on the HDI list — and we’re dropping. We also have one of the widest divides between rich and poor. We’ve got a growing mental health crisis, increasing suicide rates, and a relentless opioid epidemic. Gun violence is spiraling out of control, our democracy is under attack, and we’ve now failed to take serious action on climate change 34 years in a row. Seems like a pretty good time to think harder about our priorities and how we live. Individually and collectively.

John Shea, a Kittery, Maine, resident and occasional contributor to these pages, is currently serving as the interim head of school of Cambridge Academy Ethiopia in Addis Ababa. This is the fourth in a series of five commentaries.