Let's dole, baby!
When I walked out of the compound where the WFP workers were toiling away, sorting the many generous donations sent to them from former volunteers, a teenage boy who was looming around, hoping for his piece of the action tapped my shoulder and said, "Hey, give me a pen." Maybe because I was out of energy for lecturing, or because I'd had enough of the "you owe me stuff" begging routine for one day,or because I was feeling pretty tired of being mistaken for (yet another)white visitor come to feel good about myself by handing out stuff, I just shook my head at him and walked away. It's not as though people don't ask for things, but after six months, I'm still not comfortable with it. It often isn't even the people who are in the greatest need asking, but rather the people who have benefited from this routine in the past. Every walk to the market is punctuated by various children calling, "toubab, give me Minty, pen, five dalasi, bottle, etc." I don't blame the children for one second, because that fire gets fed from many directions, and I won't pretend that even pious Peace Corps with all our talk of sustainability and transfer of skills doesn't play a small roll in this dynamic. I don't blame NGO's for supplying badly needed resources to communities. I don't even blame tourists for hiring bumsters to carry their grocery bags and do God knows what else. (Okay, I do blame them.)Honestly, it just shakes me, this idea that I can't undo a long-established perception of what I'm here for, that as soon as I leave the respectful shelter of my working community, I'm instantly reduced to refusing to give shit out. I'm a teacher here, I want to say, and where I'm working, that means something. Unfortunately, ten feet from there, I'm just a Toubab, and as a very charming bumster reminded me on the beach today, "You people all look the same."
posted by mchughtie at 1:47 PM
6 Comments:
Hi Colleen,
It's 6 weeks that I left Pakalinding, but believe it or not, part of my heart is still there. The two new volunteers, Frank and Melanie (both German by the way, sorry, no Italian entertainer this time) are literally sitting on the plane to Banjul right now. In case you see two desorientated and confused / shocked Toubabs, yes, that's them! How's work at the RED4?
Tanja / Mariama Colley
Colleeeeeen!
I hope that you got my letter. I was hoping that you'd write back and keep that archaic practice alive. Since I haven't gotten a response (or maybe you sent one and I never got it) I am reduced to communicating with you in a much more speedy manner.
I'm living in LA, working near Beverly Hills, enjoying the weather but little else.
I really enjoy reading your stuff and I'll continue to stop by. I may just try to shoot another snail-mail letter your way. There was something really quaint about putting a piece of paper into an envelope and expecting it to make its way across the planet.
- Jay
Colleenius,
Sitting in Mocha Maya's. Just delivered Andre, mine, and Bald Mountain donations for Bottle of Bread Auction that's tomorrow night. They still don't know where they'll be. People are still helping. We want them here for you when you get back. Thank you for giving us these small glimpses of you and over there. So big the world. So small. Love to you, Susan
I really like the website. I have sent it around to several friends who I hope will take advantage of this window provided to your life. I think traveling anywhere with poverty and visitors there is the hand out, sad face, you owe me thing going on. Being a teacher there is such an ambitious and fantastic thing. Just say no. No pen for you. And the next time you see someone getting worked. Let them know, for shame. Do the real work and teach be a part of the real life. If you have the opportunity to be there, be there. It reminds me of "The Gods Must be Crazy" with the coke bottle that the pilot drops out of the plane that destroys an entire villages way of life. Well maybe not exactly the smae but close
First of all, I'm glad this post got some response. Living here has made me see that this is a global community; people are dancing to 50 cent in remote villages on tape decks. We don't have to waste our time arguing about whether to "interfere" with developing countries, but what to do now. I was worried that I'd be contaminating some pure little village. Now I see that people want to share experience, and that I won't reduce myself to pitying people and dumping gifts on them, even if it makes me less popular in the short term. On a positive note, even with the large disconnect between communities and schools here, there is a certain reverence placed on teaching, and there are students who will now help me carry my water at home as a sign of respect.
I think that the "global community" is ripe with foul odors. I think that it is great people have access to information, but are they provided with a way to interpret it? That seems a bit commercial and false. I think it best that people and the copmmunity they live in should have the freedom to play read and use whatever they want. But they should be the filter. Not a media engrossed economy system that wants to sell steal and buy everything as told to do...
I am glad that children still learn to respect elders. Respecting those who offer guidance and opportunity is important for so many reasons. Its a sign that they understand the value of the time and relationship that is there.
Post a Comment
<< Home