5.3.08 Gonder, Ethiopia ("Africa's Camelot")
"Mister! Mister! Remember, this is Africa!"
The young man, who had just entered into my periphery, had said something that struck me, and I stopped walking, abandoned my predetermined destination, for something less concrete. The young man's words struck me as idiosyncratic, coming from a soul who has probably never left this small town, and almost certainly never left this large country and this larger continent. What point of comparison could this point of view possibly developed from? Or did it not develop at all? Was it simply a catchphrase, something said without thought or consequence? Were the words an excuse, a cop out, an invalid attempt at explaining why I was being accosted by marauding children, screaming for money, for pens, for whatever might be hanging around in my pockets?
I looked down into the eyes of the child pleading with me for one Birr, two Birr; I sternly said no, accompanied by the universal language of the scowl. I wondered to myself where this mentality stems from; the mentality of handouts, the unrealistic expectations of treasure from complete strangers, simply because it appears that they come from a different land, wear different clothing, have a different shading of skin. These expectations, this singular action in the broader perspective, is devastating on the fabric of society; it breeds complacency and stagnation; it kills growth and real development before it has a chance to begin.
Is the mentality derived from the modern-day colonialists, Westerners driving around (or, rather, being driven around) in their ubiquitous white Landcruisers, prowling the streets in most towns, saviors of the destitute, multipliers of misfortune, parasitic organisms implanted into the heart of the country, feeding on the juiciest bits, growing fatter by the day? Most of the aid impact and footprint is seen, to the unassuming eye, in shiny white trucks and sleek new offices, packed in nicely next to hobbled slums, erupting like pimples in the land of need.
It devastates me to see this end result of foreign handouts, whether from organized groups or from individual tourists, handing out pens to children. There is nothing more detrimental than handing out that first pen to the first child and walking away with an altruistic smile. This act echoes and resounds and magnifies. Self reliance is essential; self reliance from the top down; a capable government setting a reasonable, responsible, precedent; something so very rare on this continent.
These people have been living, surviving in an often harsh and brutal landscape since the dawn of man; what can they learn from our experts in white chariots that has not already been passed down from their elders? The issue is the abandonment of the consistent learning of the past for the dependency of the present and the unknown of the variable future. The will and ability to survive in these environments in absolutely humbling; for what its worth, I know for sure I could not do it. I would weep and cower if our shoes were switched. The abandonment of these survival traditions in favor of the newest trend coming out of the West, or the newest batch of free supplies being dropped off by truck, is what hurts.
"This is Africa!"
What should be a positive statement, a symbol of pride, detailing perseverance and continuation, the will to move forward, progress; instead being used to explain, as an excuse for, a macabre and humiliating, situation.
I do not have any answers. Only a humbled observation.
