Let me begin by saying I can literally preface this conversation until
the day I die. Discussions surrounding development are quite complex. They
often employ an infinitely wide vocabulary, use an outlandish and disconnected
system of metrics, possess and present a specific worldview which almost always
leads us to believe there is an obvious and finite goal/answer to the problem
that has been posed as development. And,
of course, the conversation surrounding development cannot even be broached
without beginning to delve into, or at least recognize, the world’s turbulent
social historical context. This is to say the history of the last 500 years and
the havoc it has reeked on every facet of human life—social, political,
economic, environmental. Macro level decisions making—through a lens that has
been clouded for over 500 years but still is able to so articulately carry it’s
baggage—effecting the very most micro details of daily interactions. It’s
loaded, it’s stuffy, it’s interesting, it’s engaging, it’s difficult, it’s
passionate, it’s academic’s livelihood’s, it’ people’s extravagantness and
decadence and it’s people’s grim
realities, it’s life and it may be death.
The question was posed; “What will you eat tonight?”
The answer, bound to be forever haunting, was meekly and embarrassingly
muttered as 9 year old Marbel was holding both a broken umbrella and her
younger sister’s hand, “I don’t know.”
The sisters were from the hospital where they visited with their sick
mother. They had taken some brief shelter from the pouring rain in Rose’s mattress
store before they endured the rest of the nearly two mile walk, uphill
(literally) to their neighboring village of Ngwainkuma. That is the village
where Rose and Simon live—so they were a bit more aware of the children’s
desperate situation. Just as they stepped into the rain is when Simon asked
them that. He later informed me that the girls’ father would not take their
mother to the hospital—reasons unknown. He had only supported the mother with
100CFA ($0.20 USDs) worth of bread after she had already stay the night at the
hospital.
This instance happened at the end
of my long day.
What do USAID pledges, Millennium Development Goals or bilateral grant
agreements mean when you hear those words? I am literally not sure.
Hearing Marbel say those words came after an exhausting launch of our
Child Sponsor Project—which, coincidently, Marbel’s name is on our list of
potential candidates. The entire day was spent moving through small villages
trying to interview a few children that
were identified as marginalized (both socially and/or economically) and were
hence having trouble staying enrolled in school.
In order for us to better understand their situation we created what
were meant to be short interview questions—which we discovered when dealing
with children with terribly depressed aspirations our questionnaire was
anything but short. Time and time again we were met with children who were so
incredibly timid and gruesomely shy. I had never seen this side of Cameroon.
Sure, I have been inside many houses made of merely clay bricks, kitchen fire
pit in the middle of the dirt floor, the walls lined by exposed foam mattresses
and corn hanging to dry. I’ve seen this
side of Cameroon before. But I have never experienced such shy and timid
children. Maybe it was the clipboard, maybe it was two unknown white people,
maybe it was my sandals— I literally do not know. But every next child became
more shy, recluse and unsure of themselves than the last. The only answers the
children would not wallow over was,
‘How many school uniforms do you have?’
Every
single child immediately answered, with confidence,
‘One.’ The next question was
‘Does the child have alternative dresses other than the uniform? Approximately
how many?’ Without a blink of an eye each child would name the number—none of
the children needed more than six fingers to show us the number. It was, for me
at least, tiring trying to press through these surveys.
How many articles of clothing do you
have? Do you know immediately off the top of your head? Or better yet, can you
count them on one hand?
These were, no. These are
aggressive realities. I had believed I have been bearing witness to people
living in poverty during my time here in Cameroon. I honestly believed I had been.
Maybe I had been bearing witness from a far—maybe. I am actually not even sure, quite honestly.
I say this because after today I feel like everything I’ve been ‘bearing
witness’ to has actually been barely bared.
Have you ever met a child who told you his favorite food is white rice?
And to think that it is actually the price of rice that may make it his
favorite—seeing it’s least accessible for his family. I suppose I never
fathomed actually meeting somebody where the price of rice actually played an
impactful part of their life. I’ve spent years talking about these populations
of the world inside university classrooms. I’ve spent 9 months living amongst
people who are very much members of these populations. Today I sat next to
these children and families and discussed with them. Timid, raw and vibrant
power those conversations had.
After being obviously a bit shaken up I tried to reassure myself that
my efforts are thoroughly thought out, thoughtfully targeted, accurately aimed
and efficiently executed. In the end, did I convince myself? Bullishly and
dogmatically, yes—absolutely. But as I further investigate it I begin to fall
into dissecting my every thought about development work. I believe taking this
jaunt is most certainly a good exercise—but a dangerous doomsday end all type
of jaunt.
Of all the mixed emotions and uncertainty I faced throughout the
day—there is one resounding fact that remains: the reality of these families
and children is a direct product of structural violence/aggression. Macro level
decisions and policies deciding even the minutest facets of a person’s life.
Whenever I am faced with mass uncertainty about a specific instance
regarding social progress, development, revolution, etc, what have you. I am
always falling back on an academic’s words. Immanuel Wallenstein talks much
about socio-political movements. He, seemingly, concludes that it is of
paramount importance to remember there should be three types of goals working
simultaneously: short, medium and long term goals. As I get flustered and
cluttered with my own thoughts, compliments of my massive student loan debt, I
fall back on that idea. There are many things moving all at once, macro and
micro. There are many things changing all the time, from the institutional to
the individual. Keeping a sort of focus, even if unclear, on the direct we’re
working towards with the different tiers of set goals in mind is as important
as air. More on this later.
But for now. Found yourself thinking or saying ‘holy shit’ while
reading any of this? Want to take an action—either big or small? Allow me
propose a few ideas…Think micro level solution for macro level problem—a small
action to begin moving towards a short term goal (and maybe a medium term goal
in some cases).
Consider making a donation to help sponsor a child to go to school. You can even sponsor Marbel. Or
if you’re able to wait a few weeks, you can read profiles of all the
interviewed children and even choose to sponsor one directly. For as little as
$6USDs per month you can provide books, tuition and uniforms for one primary
school student. Whether you’d like a direct connection or would rather just
give and know it’s going somewhere—check it out on the website of the NGO I am
working with.
Leave a comment on this blog and begin because while giving jump start
finances to a child’s education is important—being able to understand and
articulate how these circumstances are a direct product of structural
violence/aggression may be even more important.
Share these ideas/realities with a friend.
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