Growing up with Habitat
By Faith Fuller

Back to the future; Faith Fuller, 32 , with a 1966 photo of her father, Habitat for Humanity Founder Millard Fuller (then 31), projected onscreen in the background.

I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if my parents hadn't given away all that money before I was born. It was 1965, and they had achieved the "American Dream." They were millionaires, with an almost certain future of more of the same.

But there was discontent. With my father working constantly, my mother was lonely and emotionally isolated. They were on the verge of divorce when -- to the shock of their friends and family -- they decided to give away their fortune and start over. They believed the only way to save their marriage was to give away their money and dedicate themselves to Christian service.

Imagine the dismay of my mother's mother -- who had lived through the Great Depression in abject poverty -- when she learned of these radical plans. "Our family hasn't progressed in three generations!" she cried out in desperation.

So here I am, one of four Fuller siblings living out my life as part of an intense and bizarre human drama, yet I can't imagine a life more rich and powerful.

It was my father, Millard, who along with my mother, Linda, started Habitat for Humanity. Ever since I can remember, our family's purpose was to help the poor. I grew up around a construction site, taking part in hundreds of house builds. I have seen thousands of volunteers come and go; met world leaders and celebrities; and I have been witness to the sparkling tears of families whose lives were changed forever with their new Habitat house.

As a young girl, I grew up in a small Christian community in southwest Georgia called Koinonia Farm, the birthplace of Habitat for Humanity. Koinonia was, in part, a demonstration plot for interracial living. But I can tell you, it was not a popular place in the 1950s and '60s. Koinonia was often the target of bombings, beatings, boycotts and Ku Klux Klan attacks.

By the time we moved to Koinonia in 1968, the violence had ended, but the ostracism and racism were still very much alive. When I was a year old, my parents and I were taken to jail for visiting a black family. Can you believe that only 30 years ago, there was a city ordinance prohibiting whites and blacks from socializing? So claimed the police chief in a small neighboring town.

My parents' mission to build houses with the poor took us to Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo), in the heart of Africa. I was just 6 years old when we moved there in 1973. My best friend was a little Zairian girl named Jozet. We braided our hair in tall pointed spikes. Our two-story green missionary house faced the Congo River. We went on safaris, suffered through malaria, and ate bellies-full of fish and kwanga (the local staple food). Sometimes I went with my father to visit prisoners, even taking cookies to a lady accused of murder.

In 1976, back in our hometown of Americus, we were considered outcasts by the local white establishment because we helped blacks and because of our Koinonia association. We were not poor, but my parents were frugal, nearly to the extreme. We lived in an unairconditioned house; and I can tell you, in the sweltering summer humidity of southern Georgia, that is no happy picnic. But my parents didn't believe that we should have that luxury if the people living in Habitat homes didn't have air conditioning either.

I did not choose my upbringing. I did not choose parents who are on a mission to change the world. I had no input (unfortunately!) when they decided to give away their money and start over. But when I envision myself as a rich kid driving around in a shiny new red Porsche, I see a life that seems sterile and empty. I cannot imagine my life without Africa, or Koinonia, or all the incredible people who helped magnify my perceptions of life.

By living overseas, I learned cultural understanding. By being an outcast, I learned to hate ignorance and fight it within myself. By making friends outside my social and cultural circle, I learned to appreciate and respect human beings of all shapes and colors. By growing up in an atmosphere of service to others, I learned to recognize need in the world and to be grateful for what I have.

And I have learned to follow my heart, no matter the rejection or ridicule... because just maybe, amazing and unexpected things will happen.


Faith Fuller:Sharing her skills as a video producer at Habitat for Humanity International since 1997, 32-year-old Faith Fuller has traveled to 30 countries in her quest to tell Habitat's story. Previously, she spent seven years as a Columbia, S.C., television station reporter and news anchor. Her greatest challenge currently? "As much as I love, appreciate and respect who my parents are, it's very important for me to establish myself as a film- maker away from my father. I don't want people to let me get by easy because I'm Millard Fuller's daughter."




Reprinted from Habitat World Magazine, April/May 2000.
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©2000 Habitat for Humanity International