Dead Reckonings: Epiphanies: Part I
Africa will never get up off its butt if we continue to think of it as a special-needs child. This might be one of the most poignant epiphanies of my time spent in Africa: that donor agencies, foreign aid, missionaries and yes, even some volunteers, are crippling an otherwise healthy and robust land and people. How else can one explain the rapid advances that Asian countries are experiencing (with little more “help” than free trade agreements) as compared to the backwards slide into corruption, warfare, violence, and nanny-state entitlements of Sub-Saharan Africa? Recently the BBC reported that UNICEF is seeing a drop-off in donations to its various causes in Africa. UNICEF blames the “negative portrayal of Africa” in the media, initially used as a way to guilt folks into giving money, now burning people out. As one man said, “We keep throwing money at Africa and it keeps getting worse. There’s no progress we can witness. Things have to change.” UNICEF says its solution is to start portraying Africa as a vibrant, resilient network of happy-smiley, well-fed people. Except then it would go against its entire marketing campaign to solicit funds from donors. Show a starving child and you tug at the pocketbook. Show a happy African child and you tug at a sigh of relief (“Oh thank God that aid money’s finally getting results. I think I’ll spend my donation on food for my hungry family here in Kentucky.”) Thus, it probably won’t go this route.
But you see what I mean? We treat Africa like it’s got bigger problems than its own people can handle and we put Africa in a hole so we can piss money on it. Money corrupts, generally. But money corrupts massively in Africa, where governments rarely have to answer to its citizens about where it spends its funds (since there are no taxes, how can you complain that a public official is embezzling money, when it’s not your money to begin with?) and where governments rarely have to answer even to donor countries (since it’s a gift from the American people, and they can spend it however they wish, or else they’ll roll out the welcome mats to Al-Queda and you wouldn’t want that, now would you?).
By focusing on building capacity and sharing cultures, Peace Corps has traditionally had the smallest impact than any other aid organization in Africa. This was a good thing! But, times have changed, and Peace Corps now stands to have a harmful impact as well. First, Peace Corps is strengthening partnerships with global initiatives funded by World Bank, IMF, USAID, and other wealthy donors. Having access to these funds is great when a PCV wants to complete a project on a much smaller scale than any of these agencies could implement. But having access to these funds means it is all too easy to meet a community need, and stroke the ego at the same time, by building something grand or giving out freebies, rather than building capacity of the locals to enrich their own communities. This reinforces the “only foreigners can save us” mentality. I’ve seen this at work in Bonga, and it’s damn ugly.
Another challenge for the Peace Corps is that “capacity-building” has now been effectively monetized in African countries. This means that in order to build someone’s capacity, that person will require per diem, hotel reimbursements, and transportation costs covered to/from the training site. All of a sudden it costs a lot of money to “build capacity” and, in turn, the donor agencies have earmarked a percentage of all funds to go towards capacity-building. The theory goes that spending funds on trainings and workshops is more effective than just sending material goods or building empty, dysfunctional hospitals. In turn, African countries have found a way to still make money from donor agencies. The result is a training and workshop cash bonanza.
Now, I’m not saying that all trainings and workshops are worthless. In fact, quite a few of them are indeed necessary for sharing experiences and to touch base with the latest information and knowledge out there. The problem is that nobody pays attention to the quality of the trainings. For example, are they actually transmitting skills and knowledge? Or are they just slideshows of text (i.e. why send someone 1,200 km to a training to read slides off a screen they could have just as easily be sent via a printed manual in the post). My experience with trainings and workshops and conferences in Ethiopia is that nobody is paying attention to the pedagogy of skills transference at these events. Nobody, in fact, cares about this. The point is the workshop. The point is that progress appears to be forthcoming. The point is that Mr. T can sleep at his sister’s cousin’s house, forge transportation receipts, and pocket a cool 2,000-5,000 birr (if NGO funded) per workshop. That’s a month’s salary in one weekend. And he gets a week off work! Score.
The third challenge for PCVs is that their local counterparts (at least the better ones) are increasingly “global.” Just like PCVs, they, too, want to do good in their community, but will also soon leave their community for a better job offer, an opportunity to emigrate, or some other reason. Often local counterparts hardly outlast the volunteer in occupying a house in a community. Sustainability is threatened by this pattern, with the blame partly on the NGOs, universities, and central governments (who snatch up all the great minds, overpay them, and make them live in the capital city). This is, of course, assuming they even stay in country.
Of all the counterparts I work with in Bonga, the one I focus on the most is Gezahegn, the primary school teacher. He likes his work even though it pays in peanuts (a rarity), he still lives with his parents (typical, but he doesn’t mind), and he wants to improve the quality of life for his community. He’s never asked me how to get a visa to emigrate to the U.S. He’s never told me about the NGOs he’s applying to in Addis Ababa. He’s never asked me for anything other than how he can be a better, more-informed citizen, and a more able teacher for his students. He is, to me, why Peace Corps is important and should continue to exist. Large multinational donor agencies will never affect him the way a PCV can, the priceless person-to-person transmission of goodwill and great ideas.
Am I saying that the PCV who does the least is the best kind of PCV? Absolutely not. I picture a PCV spending his days watching TV shows on his laptop while picturing another PCV spending his days in his community, asking how he can help out, or demonstrate a skill, or have a chat with some locals at a coffeehouse. Obviously there are differences between these two volunteers: the one who withdraws and gives up and the one who maintains positive energy while not promising to heap riches and materials and per diem upon his contemporaries. Sometimes this may even be the same volunteer caught on two different days; being a PCV is tough work, requiring heaps of emotional strength and physical health (you can’t be the latter PCV if you are mired in a mental breakdown or just caught Typhoid fever). The key is to pace yourself, to be mindful, to be open and available and let the work come to you. Not many Americans, bred to be multi-tasking beasts of instant gratification, are cut out for Peace Corps at first, but eventually most are humbled and figure it out. Some never figure it out, to the ultimate detriment of their communities.
