Outskirts Press, INC.

One humanitarian's inspirational journey from Latin America to Central Asia, and the majestic purple he encountered along the way.

We see prominent leaders and even majestic kings represented throughout history by the color purple. Finding Purple: A Walk Down The Path Of Sustainable Development is about finding the majestic purple within each of us and within our neighbors. The more of this purple we see, the more good we will be able to accomplish.

Ben Grostic brings us uniquely authentic images using an assortment of stories and reflections that he wrote while working in Third-World countries. He explains the fundamentals of sustainable development through firsthand experiences allowing for new understanding of this growing professional field. Throughout, whether he is pushing a broken down truck out of a rapidly rising river in a thunderstorm or being chased down a mountain by a buffalo, his words are real and open. There is no fiction here.

Finding Purple is about much more than adventures while working overseas. It is about life and the transitions, experiences, and difficulties of the journey. Here, we can travel part of that journey with Ben and at the same time, receive the opportunity to stretch our own worldviews.

July 29, 2007 Typical Day In Pakistan

I exited my tent into the cool morning air. Kaloo, the old chokidar (guard/caretaker), greeted me as usual as he is always awake before I am. The engineers were still asleep which was also normal. I enjoy getting up early in the Siran Valley because for a few moments, there are no issues, and no one needs me to make any decisions. The air always feels fresher during the early hour as if it is the same air that has been there in the valley for millennia.

My morning routine was finished. Essentially, I was waiting for everyone else to get ready to go. I thought about studying my Urdu language flashcards for a few minutes. But then, I just took a seat on our porch and looked across the river valley to the rising mountainside. I just enjoyed being where I was. The air was still cool. I was still refreshed. The sun was still rising, its rays beginning to light up the valley land that had been slowly immerging from the night’s darkness.

I noticed a Pakistani woman on the steep mountainside across the river. She was cutting long, green blades of grass with a sickle and placing the grass in a large fabric carrying pack on her back. The bag was strapped around her forehead and was bulging under the bulk of fresh grass as she continued to cut more and shove it quickly behind her into the ingenious cargo bag. She was undoubtedly cutting it for a domestic buffalo, which are quite common possessions of people in the valley.

I just watched. She was rhythmic in her work and clearly new exactly what she was doing. It was a peaceful scene. As the revealing rays of sunshine blanketed the mountainside, the woman began to climb higher and farther away, I started to hear the movement and voices of the rest of my team as they woke up. I was being pulled away from the calm of issueless existence back into the world where I deal with cheating construction foreman, never ending issues, and frustrations. I just wanted to watch the woman cut the grass.

I was struck by the extreme separation between the woman and myself, and I am not talking about the general social separation between men and women in Pakistan. The woman and I lead lives that are about as different as they could be. I am educated and come from a developed nation. I have a good job with an international NGO and manage an entire school reconstruction project involving more than eight villages. The woman likely cuts grass for her family’s animals each morning, then spends the day cooking, cleaning, and raising children. She is probably not educated and likely considers herself to be quite poor. Yet, as I watched her finish her early morning work, and as I began to think about all I would have to deal with that day, I couldn’t help but wonder which one of us was really better off.

We were only separated by a river, yet we were a world apart.