The bond of kindness

The commitment to help and heal continues; acts of kindness have a life of their own

Between 1845 and 1849, the Irish potato famine killed nearly a million people. Another million were forced to flee the country – often to distant shores in poorly made, overcrowded boats on treacherous seas.

The starvation and disease in towns and villages in Ireland was driven in large part by British policies of neglect, hostility and greed. In those early days of the global media, the news reached far corners of the world relatively quickly.

The Ottoman Sultan, Abdul Majid I, offered to send 10,000 pounds. His offer was not accepted by the British consulate in Turkey, since Queen Victoria was only sending a meager 2,000 pounds and it would have been a breach of protocol to send in more money than the monarch. Some Irish later called her the ‘Famine Queen’ – a name that has stuck in many quarters. While Queen Victoria offered little from what she could afford, another group, across the Atlantic, did everything they could.

The Choctaw Nation, who had recently been forced out of their homes and made to travel the ‘Trail of Tears’ as a result of evil and racist policies of the US, felt a bond with others who were suffering, and were forced to flee their land. The Choctaw Nation was among the first to be forcibly displaced in 1831 and knew firsthand the pain of starvation, disease, racism and apathy of those in power. They offered to help, and despite their poverty raised and sent money to the Irish. The exact amount of their support is debated by the historians, but what is well established is that their money reached Ireland and made a substantial difference in the lives of those who were starving to death.

The Irish never forgot this selfless act of kindness from those who shared no bonds of ethnicity, proximity or religion. It was the strongest bond of all, humanity, that connected the Choctaw and the Irish. In 1995, to commemorate the 150th year of the famine, Ireland President Mary Robinson visited the Choctaws and thanked them personally for their generosity.

In 2017, a beautiful sculpture called the ‘Kindred Spirits’ was unveiled and dedicated in Midleton Ireland, as a testament to the generosity of the Choctaw. In 2018, Ireland PM Leo Varadkar visited the Choctaw Nation to thank them and announced a yearly scholarship for Choctaw students to study in Ireland. It was not just the Irish government and its representatives who recognise the selfless act from nearly two centuries ago.

In 2020, at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, the Native American tribes were among the worst affected communities. Their incidence and the mortality rate were among the highest in the US. This time, it was the Irish who mobilised. A single fundraising campaign raised nearly $8 million. Many others in Ireland contributed through various other global campaigns.

The commitment to help and heal continues. In Dublin bookstores, one can find books about the Choctaw-Irish bond, and many Irish who I spoke to, who were neither historians nor politicians, knew of the generosity of the Choctaw in particular and the Native Americans in general.

The acts of kindness – whether by the Choctaws, the Irish, or anyone else – have a life of their own. The acts survive, multiply and thrive in myriad ways. But only those that are done with the sincerity of purpose, and driven by a passionate pursuit of humanity, not those that are propelled by a cold calculation of pragmatism and realpolitik. I did not know much about the Choctaw generosity until I met a bookseller in Dublin. She got really emotional and excited talking about what the Choctaws did for the Irish in the 1840s. I

t reminded me of a very different conversation I had with a Yemeni taxi driver in New York, who upon learning that I was from Pakistan, and knowing full well where Pakistan’s loyalty and support was when it came to destruction of his country, had politely suggested: May God guide us all!