Africa for Norway

This video, and the website behind it have prompted a lot of thought.  Go ahead, take some time to check it out.  I’ll wait.

First, what this site gets right:

1.  Africa is so much more than what it is portrayed as.  Kenya is a major hub for culture and commerce, and is almost defined by diversity.  There are more than 40 distinct ethnic groups, not including substantial Asian, European, and North American immigrant and expatriate populations.  Nairobi is one of the fastest growing cities in the world, and generally has a high standard of living.

Yes, there are places like Mathare, and yes, in writing that post I may be guilty of the same thing this site is trying to prevent.  All I can say is that I spent a lot of time thinking about that, and tried hard to balance several different concerns in writing it, and admit that in all likelihood, I missed that balance.  Nairobi also has landmarks of capitalism like Westgate and Junction.  Every city has both, and we need to do a better job of acknowledging that.  When we think of New York City, we need to think about the South Bronx as well as Times Square and Central Park.  When we think of Nairobi, we should think about Upper Hill and Karen as well as Kibera and Eastleigh.

2. “Aid must be based on real needs, not ‘good’ intentions.”  Yes.  The problem is not corruption, as many would claim…or at least, not only corruption.  One problem is that things are sent which are not needed.  Do a Google search for SWEDOW (Stuff We Don’t Want) for more examples.  This type of aid is wonderful for the companies that do it.  They buy themselves good will, allow their customers to feel good about themselves, and get a tax deduction for doing it.  I have no problem for companies finding ways to do any of those things if they actually helped the people they claim they are trying to.  But they don’t.  The problem is not that people lack shoes or shirts, the problem is that they can’t afford to buy them.  Giving them away for free doesn’t help alleviate that problem, it actually compounds it.  The people who make, repair and/or sell shoes and clothing are put out of business and more people are put into poverty.   

Other problems can stem from the restrictions put on aid, especially when aid is used as a foreign policy tool. I met with people at one NGO, which receives funding from USAID.  I asked about how they defined their target area, their metrics of success, their criteria for including people in their programs received the same answer: USAID determines those.  By accepting support from USAID, this NGO had lost all ability to adapt and respond to what they actually saw on the ground.  I know of several other NGOs who refuse to accept funding from USAID because of that.

Food aid, in particular, can be a disaster.  There are many times where food aid is essential, and where food aid saves lives.  But Haiti is not the only place where it is disruptive.  The problem isn’t that people don’t have food.  The problem is that people aren’t able to buy or grow food. Dumping rice grown in the US may help US farmers, and may help to fill in critical gaps, but when not carefully managed, it creates enduring cycles of dependency by eliminating the local market. 

Many NGOs are getting better at this.  CWS Africa is one—a common theme across all of our programs is a goal for community self sufficiency, and substantial energy is dedicated to training community members so that there will come a time where the community will graduate and no longer need any aid.

Now for my doubts.

I am very uncomfortable with the pan-Africanism inherent to both this site and those it satirizes.  Africa is an enormous continent with vast diversity in culture, religion, geography, climate, language, topography, economy and political system.  Even subtracting North Africa, because I suspect that for many this pan-Africanism is focused on Sub-Saharan Africa, this diversity holds. 

Yes, these countries in Africa face many common problems, but those problems are not unique to Africa—they are global problems that exist, in greater or lessor degrees in every country on this planet, including Norway and the US.  By ignoring the distinctions and differences between countries, regions, and ethnic groups within Africa, the differences in their experience is dismissed. By emphasizing distinctions between Africa and the rest of the world, this video sustains the fiction that these are uniquely African problems.  It might have minimized this by choosing something other than ‘cold’ to focus on, but that might have sacrificed some of the message’s power.

And a finally, some caveats—on the whole, I support the idea behind the video and website, but it raises some things with which I am uncomfortable with and still working through.  I also recognize that there are a great many people who are far smarter than me who support Pan-Africanism.  I’m not seeking to attack either, merely to state my concerns, and, hopefully, begin some discussion.  This post is more about my trying to articulate some thoughts that likely represent the current stage of a process.  I don’t know where that process will go, but I invite anyone to help guide me through that process in the comments below.

Further, I want to emphasize that this post, and, in fact, pretty much everything on this blog, is reflective only of my personal thoughts, and does not represent the position of Church World Service, CWS Africa, Union Presbyterian Seminary, PC(USA), the YAV Program, or any other group or organization with which I may be affiliated.

Laundry

Laundry has involved many things during my life.  When I was little, dirty laundry went into the hamper at the bottom of the hall closet, and periodically, Mom-omagically, the hamper would move out of the closet with clean, dry, ironed, folded clothes which I would (grudgingly) put away. As I grew older, various steps of the process became de-mystified.  I came to be asked to carry the laundry down-stairs, and then, a while later, I would be asked to carry the Mom-omagically clean, ironed and folded laundry back upstairs, where I would (sometimes) put it away (grudgingly).At some point, I began “do” my laundry myself.  Of course, doing laundry really just meant adjusting settings on the washing machine (Cold-Cold, Normal Agitation), waiting a while, then moving things over to the dryer, setting the timer, and again, waiting. Then I would (sometimes) fold it, carry it upstairs, and (maybe), put it away (grudgingly).

After I moved across town for college, the steps were basically the same, except there were more or fewer stairs (generally more), and the machines often cost money—either from my Cavalier Advantage Card (kept topped up by my parents), or, later, stacks upon stacks of quarters (one of the advantages of working as a waiter was constant access to change).  Sometimes (often) I wouldn’t feel like paying the fee for the machine, so I would drive across town (a MAJOR advantage of going to college in the same town one grew up in is access to free laundry…another is access to free food, often in the same trip) and go back to the same machine, where, mindful of the Mom-omagic presence, I might actually sort the laundry into whites, lights and darks, and put them into the machine with appropriate temperature settings. Then I’d help myself to food/diet coke/TV while waiting.  I think I might have used the time to study once.

Living in Northern Ireland was the first time when I was at all confronted with the privilege I’d enjoyed.  While my flat in Northern Ireland had no steps (convenient), and I didn’t have to pay for the machine (wonderful), there was no dryer, which I considered a major inconvenience.  As much as we complain about energy costs in the US, they are fantastically low compared with many other places—in Northern Ireland, this makes a dryer a luxury that most chose to forego.  Fortunately, we were able to string up a drying line inside—strung across our living room (it rained so often there was just no point to putting things outside), and left to dry.  Sometimes, in order to speed the drying process, my flat-mate and I would make creative use of space-heaters, seal off the living room, and turn it into a sauna in order to dry things faster.  We were also exceedingly fortunate in that my flat-mate knew a very accommodating person who WAS in possession of a dryer, and, being a mother, was kind enough to periodically collect our sheets, wash them, dry them, and, Mom-omagically return them to us the same day.

In Kenya, I do laundry myself, by hand.  In buckets.  In the bathtub.  It’s a time and labor intensive process which begins with a one hour soak recommended by the directions on the packet of Sunshine (yes, really).  Then I begin the process of actually washing the clothes—a combination of just reaching in there and working everything around, and then pulling things out and going over them with a scrub brush to get some of the more persistent stains out.  Once this is done, I dump the buckets, try to squeeze out as much of the soapy water as I can, and fill the buckets again to rinse.  I usually have to repeat this at least twice, and even then I’m pretty sure there is still a lot of soap left.

Now, I have to get the clothes to dry.  I squeeze as much of the water out as I can, and take most things out to the lines behind the building (I can fit a few things on a line on my porch, and a few things in the closet with the water heater).  My experience in drying clothes washed by hand so far is pretty much the same as line-drying anything, but I have been AMAZED at how much water the spin cycle on a washing machine gets out.  As it is, even after squeezing out as much as I can, I still usually have to leave clothes out overnight, and often into the afternoon of the next day.  That is, of course, assuming that it doesn’t rain—we are currently in the middle of the ‘short rains’ where it rains somewhat unpredictably for short bursts (a few minutes to a few hours).  I try not to be too upset about the rain—after all, it’s probably getting more of the soap out (I am convinced I will NEVER get it all).  Once the clothes are dry, or at least mostly so, I bring them in, and proceed to iron everything to kill of anything that may have taken residence in the clothes while they were drying.  I think Nairobi is not a particularly high risk area for the insect I’m concerned about, but I’m not taking chances.

In all honesty though, doing laundry is still not that difficult for me. I am vastly more involved in the process than I’ve ever been before, true, but it’s much less involved for me than for many others.  I am not going to pretend that this means I understand poverty, or have even experienced hardship.  I’m not competing for space by a river. I’m not walking miles for water. I don’t have to go to the bottom of a deep well.  I’m not worrying that using this water for laundry means I won’t have enough to drink or cook with.  I have clear, running water in my flat—water that, with a very little bit of extra effort I can even drink.  Doing laundry takes time, yes, but I’m able to use that time for prayer and reflection, to listen to music or an NPR podcast (Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, With Good Reason or Backstory). And, in the end, I know, that even as miniscule a hardship this is, it’s temporary.  Next fall I’ll be back in the U.S., back to using a washing machine and yes, almost certainly even dryer.  And, in all likelihood, when I remember my time here, laundry won’t be something I’ll often think about. 

Hopefully though, I will remember that no matter how difficult something seems to me, I have it easy.