The Gift that Keeps on Giving
Tired of giving the same unappreciated gifts every holiday season? This year, why not send a gift of peace and justice (food, shelter, trees, water, medicines or even a coffee bean) around the world?
I’m a pretty reluctant mall shopper as it is, so holiday mall shopping sounds about as fun as a root canal. Sure, I enjoy the puffy painted snowflakes sponged onto festive store windows, and I have no objections to holiday door-busters and two-for-one men’s dress socks for Dad. And I definitely don’t object to general Christmastime merriment—icicle lights, the childhood memories sparked by the smell of Douglas fir wreaths and peppermint hot chocolate, not to mention the rapturous wonder of Christmas music (even as I type this, my toes are tapping merrily to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You”).
So I’m not a grinch. But still, holiday shopping is not something I look forward to—the crowds, the traffic, the choices. In fact, I think it’s the abundance of choices that frustrates me most. Does it really matter that there are 50 colors of silk neckties, ranging from power-suit black to family-man casual blue? Even if my dad wore ties to events other than my mom’s high school reunions, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t need another one. Actually, he doesn’t need much of anything (though the black Sharpie circles scrawled around GPS and external hard drive ads in the Best Buy sales insert would suggest otherwise).
It’s not just my dad that I find hard to shop for. How many Barbies does my 3-year-old cousin need? Do I really want to get my brother another iTunes gift card? And will my mom really use another set of Bath & Body Works cucumber-melon body wash?
But what’s the alternative? If I don’t get them a present, I’ll be branded a Scrooge for life, not just a miser but the enemy of Christmas spirit and all things merry. In years past, I’ve managed to circumvent the mall and a grinchly reputation by offering coupons for time spent with the one and only me—everyone’s favorite daughter, sister and friend. Take Mom out for a coffee date and some good ol’ quality time instead of buying her another Nordstrom sweater or socks.
It’s a start. But it still doesn’t have the impactful zing I would hope for in the perfect Christmas present. Not to be too filled with Bono-type idealism and holiday sap, but aren’t there people in the world who really do need some socks or soap? Maybe a Christmas dinner or a paying job? A home? An education? Medical care? A release from slave wages or deadly civil war?
I was contemplating these questions as I gingerly maneuvered my purple Accord into a sardine-tight space in Point Loma Presbyterian Church’s parking lot a year ago. Just a month earlier I had become involved with a San Diego–based Christian nonprofit environmental organization called Floresta. Eager to learn more about their reforestation and microfinance work in other countries, I found myself recruited to run a Floresta booth at a local church’s alternative gift market.
Alternative gift markets, or AGMs in nonprofit circles, turned out to be the perfect solution to my mall-shopping phobia and growing global consciousness.
As the name suggests, AGMs are markets where alternative gifts are sold. In this case, “alternative” doesn’t mean makeshift, backup or otherwise shoddily thrown together. They’re simply an alternative to your average store-bought presents (which are designed to dazzle but ultimately seem to deflate). These gifts are given in someone’s name and go toward a nonprofit organization to make a life-giving impact on people and communities across the globe.
I wrestled a giant green tub, filled with Floresta brochures and goods, out of my car and into the Family Life Center of the small church. Moms, dads, grandmas and grandpas, dressed in their Sunday best, meandered through rows of round green tables decorated with seasonal poinsettias and Christmas-red table runners. I quickly began to set up shop.
The artsy, creative-writing major in me did her best to decorate the Floresta table with the colorful brochures, bags of coffee, decorative baskets and volunteer sign-up sheets I found in my green bin of wonder. Floresta works to rebuild and replenish deforested and degraded lands, creating jobs and improving the lives of the rural poor. Sounded good to me.
At this AGM I would be promoting Floresta’s mission by creating awareness, passing out brochures and offering a plethora of alternative Christmas presents—such as intricately hand-woven pine-needle baskets crafted by women in Oaxaca, Mexico, or tree cards that show gift receivers that a friend or relative has bought trees to be planted in their name. “Christmas tree” took on a whole new meaning.
Churchgoers filtered through the room between services, and I practiced my still-shaky Floresta spiel on a third-grade Sunday-school class. The aromatic bags of rich Café Istmo coffee sold like Xbox 360s. Floresta intersperses coffee plants between seedlings to prevent erosion, providing short-term income for the farmers while allowing newly planted trees to grow taller and the forest to develop. I bought a bag before they disappeared, excited to know I would be helping poor farmers while simultaneously enjoying the best part of waking up. Floresta also offers mini-loans ranging from $25 to $100 so farmers can start businesses to keep afloat in the meantime. These loans make perfect stocking stuffers. Anyone else sick of socks, lipstick and Dollar Store soap?
Floresta wasn’t the only organization represented at this AGM, but this time the choices didn’t overwhelm me. Should I buy Mom a pine-needle basket or a handwoven scarf that supports an organization working to end the trade of sex slaves in India? Coffee or trees? A milk-providing goat from Heifer International or a sponsorship for a child through World Vision? Finally, a gift dilemma my conscience could handle.
So this year, instead of choosing which scantily clad Barbie doll—the one with the red miniskirt and matching red convertible or the one with the hot-pink bikini and crimpy hair—I’m going to buy for my sweet, ringlet-wearing cousin, I could pay in her name for the training of one family in the use of solar cooking. Or perhaps more appealing to her, I could buy a gaggle of chicks for a family in Malawi. And since she is 3 and loves to grasp her chubby fingers around something tangible, I could buy her some fluffy toy chicks to match the donated ones.
With AGMs all over San Diego this holiday season and the convenience of donating online, I won’t be labeled a scrooge, and I sure won’t miss the hubbub of the malls (well, maybe the snowflaked windows and Ella Fitzgerald Christmas melodies lilting out of Starbucks). Instead, I’ll be buying Christmas gifts from charities and organizations where my money will be used to make a positive difference in the world.
An Internet search for “alternative gift market” will turn up a list of organizations offering AGMs and AGM products.
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