In 1996 my Dad and I were walking the streets of Lautoka, the second largest city in Fiji.
The boat was anchored in Saweni bay, and we had gone into town to find some supplies.
We’re walking along the street, and all of a sudden, we find we’ve become a trio. A man had swooped in to walk next to us at our pace. He had a dark coloured stick in one hand and a carving knife in the other.
He starts asking questions, rapid fire: “Hello sir” (to my Dad).
“How are you today sir?”
“What is your son’s name?”
He starts hacking at the stick.
“What is your son’s name, I’ll have a gift for you…”
At the same time, we both clicked, he was a sword carver.
The sword carvers were known on the streets here. He was going to carve out a sword from his piece of wood and carve my name into it.
At this point, he would have leverage over us, for his efforts, and could demand a price for the “gift.”
It’s a trap that catches many tourists unaware.
We picked it up just in time, repeatedly declining the “gift,” until he finally left us alone.
Generosity is an interesting one.
When we come from generosity, we build trust with the people we want to work with.
But paradoxically, we also need trust to be able to be generous. And rightfully so, even if the “gift” is free (online, offline), it may very well not be worth out time.
Of course, it also might turn out to not be a true gift, and before we know it we’re supposed to pull out our wallet.
Generosity builds trust, and trust opens the door for generosity.
