Dubai has an approximate population of 20 million people, 16 million of which are not from the United Arab Emirates (or Emirate as the populace is called). It has the World’s largest shopping mall, the World’s tallest building (the Burj Khalifa), and with a summer average temperature of 108 degrees – it is also the most climate controlled city in the World. The diversity of the city necessitates a variety of lodging, food, and entertainment. One night can be spent on the 70th floor of a hotel – watching the electric skyline and enjoying classic cocktails. The next, sitting along a man-made lake watching the World’s largest water show, eating Thai food, and seeing the buildings illuminate in red, white and blue in honor of the Philippine independence. Still another in an authentic Mexican restaurant complete with full mariachi band, imported seafood, and a dinner party fluent in Spanish. It is absolutely amazing that in a conservative desert country just about every culture or food can be experienced. I was in Dubai for one week, and I am sorry to say that I did not actually experience the United Arab Emirates in any real way. The staff in all the hotels were lovely, but the bellhop was Indian and the valet from Kenya. Breakfast and lunch buffets catered to the guests – with Asian noodles, Texan steak, and European charcuterie boards. On the last day we ventured out to the Suks (local markets) and thought we would have the chance to experience the spices and textiles from UAE; but still the salesmen were Afghani, Indian, and Iraqi; and they were peddling textiles from Mumbai or spices from Pakistan. The market was the closest I got the the Arab world and the most authentic hour of my entire trip (picture the scene in Aladdin where Jasmine steals the apple), but still I do not think I met an Emirate the entire time I was there. Which is sad to say, but also extremely interesting. Everywhere I have gone I enjoy experiencing and reflecting the nuances of the local culture, but in Dubai the local culture is pushed to edges by the upper class intricacies and hard for the average visitor to see within the city. If there is one thing that Dubai is synonymous with, that is wealth. Today, there are rumblings what the wealth is not what it once was… but still you can’t help but be overcome by the sheer size of the money moving around the city. Every building is unique, unlike most cities where whole blocks get lost into the monotony of towering replica buildings. You cannot get lost in Dubai (maybe stuck going on a one-way street in the wrong direction as most streets appear to be going only one-way), because you can use the Museum of the Future (shaped like a hollowed out egg and covered in Sanskrit), the one that looks like the fictional Tony Stark building (complete with helipad), or the Frame (amply named as it looks like a giant golden frame) to get your bearings and figure out where you need to go. In Dubai there is no restraint on how much money should be spent to construct the new tallest hotel in the world (we stayed in the second tallest which was recently surpassed by another hotel just down the block) and elaborate steel work or curved window edging which would be considered frivolous in other places – appears to be encouraged in Dubai. In addition to the thrill of viewing the city’s splendor – Dubai is also meant to be experienced. First, if you hope to travel to Dubai, do not go in the summer. The heat and humidity make the city impossible to fully experience outside of the winter months (of which I am told it still doesn’t dip much lower than 60-70 degrees). In the summer the city looks abandoned since people cannot be outside for more than a few minutes, and the tourism activities shut-down as only the most ill-informed person would choose to visit in 115 degree heat (and 65% humidity). So, in the summer everything moves in-doors and to the evening hours. Most people choose to meet after the sun starts setting (still the lows at night hovered around 90 degrees) or in one of the countless in-door restaurants/bars/clubs. So, at first I thought that the city did not have many people in it, but once I moved indoors it was apparent that the city was still very much alive and eager to explore. At the Dubai Mall you can purchase just about any high end gift you would like (Valentino, Cartier, Rolex, Hermes ...), visit the aquarium, an underwater petting zoo (separate from the aquarium and complete with otters and penguins), eat from any american fast food place you can imagine (Dunkin Donuts, Wendy's, Panda Express, Baskin Robbins...), or go ice skating in their full size rink. The hotel we were staying in is apparently one of the hot spots for nightlife. The 2 am lobby menagerie of people moving in and out of the hotel; such as the juxtaposition of a young Asian women in a mini skirt stumbling up to the hotel bar next to a woman in a full burka heading out of the hotel for a late night flight (most flights appear to be at night due to the heat on the tarmac during the day) is just the beginning of what can be seen in the after hours of Dubai. In all I would say that Dubai is certainly a place to be seen (just not in July) and a place where the world can be experienced. Of course you are getting the most cliche versions of all the cultures, and most likely seeing how the lavish live rather than the average Joe. Still, it takes a step outside of the everyday and goes into a cinematic world of grandiose proportions.
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The population of India is roughly 1,300,000,000. Think about that number for a minute… India is 1/5th the size of the US but has approximately 340 million more people. How can so many people be in one space and what exactly does such a large number physically look like? I arrived in India before I even boarded the plane, instantly I could see something was different when I reached the gate bound for Mumbai. The plane was not boarding for another 40 minutes yet everyone was in line. Then, the moment we were called to board a stamped ensued. They have spent a lifetime competing with millions for jobs, education, relationships… even when a seat is assigned and booked in their name- the fear remained that someone else would occupy their space. Before I touched down in India I saw that 1.3 billion people generates competition in order for individuals to assure their place among the millions. Space has a whole new meaning in India. Even on an uncrowded street, of which there are few, people will bump into you. Not because there is an absence of space to go around, but because there is no reason to give the standard arm-length passing distance, which we are accustomed to in the US. They have spent a lifetime in close proximity to everyone around them, elbow room is a foreign concept. While standing in a security line for a domestic flight, if I allowed the comfortable 1-person space to remain in front of me – inevitably some woman would move around me without saying a word and into my buffer zone. From her perspective, I allowed that space to go unfilled so I must not care about moving forward- it is rightfully hers to take. Quickly I learned to expand like a blowfish while standing in lines, using my backpack to assure space behind me and extended arms to allow for breathing room in the front. Still they would find a way to skip the queue, moving around to the side of me and slipping in at the moment there is movement in-front; but stern looks and a raised voice crosses cultures in saying, ‘don’t even think about it sister’(even if they had no idea what I was saying). The rule of no space also holds true on the roads. Cars, bikes, cows… they all move with an invisible 6-inch bubble around them and no more, yet the bubbles never seem to burst. In the chaos there is an agreed upon order. First, a car horn means “I am coming… move” and somehow magically just enough room is given for them to pass. Second, the cows have every right to stand in the middle of the road, cars should go around them even if it means creating a bottleneck that backs up the whole roadway. Next, lines are merely a suggestion- wherever there is space (whether it is the other lane, the ditch, or where a person is currently standing) it is free game. The larger you are the more right you have to the space, yet there is no need to scurry out of the way because they see me and my invisible bubble will not be popped (I still don’t get how Indians could stare down our SUV plowing toward them and not budge an inch). Lastly, when in doubt just go ahead and ask questions later. I found my ground transportation to be like playing a game of frogger, move into the first space you see then look for your next available opening. 1.3 billion people necessitates organized chaos and the mutually agreed upon concept of ‘I won’t hit you if you don’t hit me’. Next, when there are so many people there must also be many languages, gods, traditions, political groups, etc… to create at least a representation to uniqueness. When traveling by road we would inevitably be confronted with a mass of people taking a stance for something. In a place where one voice can get lost in the crowd, there must be a gathering of voices in order to be heard. People were marching for religion, politics, holidays, weddings… While passing through one town there was a whole wedding procession, complete with caged DJ and strobe lights, happening in the middle of the main road. At no point do these large gathering seem to question how they are impacting those around them; they march, dance and parade to demonstrate that there are sub-groups within the larger crowd– the traffic will be there regardless so who cares. The worst part about these gatherings was that most of the roads go right through the center of towns. So, our 3 journeys would turn into 6 hour backups waiting for the mobs to move… just like the cow they have every right to be in the middle of the road. Subgroups are also formed by state. I always thought of India as one defined country – they speak Hindi and eat naan bread with tika massal… but in actuality each state is like its own individual country. In total I went to three states (which have populations larger than whole countries – one state had 110 million people) and each one was significantly different in language, dress, even appearance. The closer you get to the north-east the more people’s features blend with China, the further South the darker in complexion, and people in the West blend more with Arab traditions. The level of spice differs by state, which meant I had to adjust what I ordered in order to be able to palate the food. India is a massive and diverse country, allowing the 1.3 billion people to at least stand out in the individuality of their birth town, culture differences, political stance, and religion. Most significantly, religion is everything in India. In the US I feel most people place religion as an intermission, prayer and church happen but at scheduled points in the week. In India every moment is because of religion. There is no hunting, because animals are related to gods and thus are protected. There are close to 50 holidays in the work calendar, and any time people take off from work or school to march in the streets for their holy days, travel to the Ganges to worship on the full moon, attend a weeklong wedding celebration, or simply visit the nearest prayer site. In the name of religion all things are done – marriage, food consumed (or not consumed), vaccines taken (or not taken), forests preserved, animals given free-range, etc…; and without it nothing is accomplished. In fact, the health workers tie public health interventions to religion in order to assure they will be taken up. In one district the regional health officer wrote a ‘vaccine prayer’ teaching the importance of having your child vaccinated in relation to a local prayer cadence. As I am not a religious person myself, this both baffles and astounds me. 1.3 billion people in India believe that there is something outside of themselves. Whether they believe in the Hindu gods, the Buddhist enlightenment, or the guidelines of the Quran; they believe it so much that their whole lives revolve around it. It’s actually quite amazing when you think about it… only because of tradition and blind faith does their way of life exist – and in that there is an order created. 1.3 billion people can be in one place because there are enough gods to go around and a mutually agreed upon acceptance that anyone can believe what they want.
Lastly, the 1.3 billion people means a lot of waste and consumption. One thing I could not get over was the trash and smog. Everywhere you look there is trash and a constant thick haze surrounding you. At some points I would need to cover my face to keep from coughing in the smog (don’t in-hale). Even in the remote villages children play over piles of plastic bags and animals graze in areas that appear more like landfills than pastureland. Imagine Pigpen, from the Charlie Brown series, the constant grey scribbles that follow him wherever he goes – that is what I felt like in India. People talk about the smog, a news article mentioned local Bollywood stars canceling performances in Delhi because of high-toxin levels… but it all seems to be accepted. The rich will still drive their cars, the brick makers will stoke their kilns, and the people will toss their trash. They have become accustomed, because what is the alternative? How can 1.3 billion people exist and there not be mountains of trash and haze in the cities? So, what does 1.3 billion look like – congested roads, no personal space, and trash everywhere. Still, there is a tranquility, a kind of beauty in the fact that they can all share the space without confrontation. So many places are torn apart because of their differences, here it seems to keep them together. I remember Kenya at the center of my African history courses. A rebellion in the mid-twentieth century freed it from colonial rule and its first president, Jomo Kenyatta, became one of the fore fathers for African Independence. Because of strong early leadership and their position between the Arab and Africa worlds - it is now the richest country in Central Africa. A green revolution also preserved its lush landscape – allowing parks and protected forests to remain while other countries struggle to maintain even a semblance of green space. You’ve seen their exports in coffee and tea shops, and their athletes on sports channels leading the pack in marathons. For a while it was a peaceful, quite nation; but recent questionable elections and a refugee influx have created instability and insecurity. Peace Corps officially left the country in 2014 and now whole districts are off limits to American visitors. It is hard to tell what will happen to Kenya in the coming years, but I must say my first impression is that it currently stands leaps and bounds above the development levels of other African countries I have seen. It is a country with potential and hope, but also with some challenging years to come. Its borders were formed by colonialism, but the clans which live along its Eastern edge do not recognize political boundaries. I came to Kenya because polio and other vaccine preventable diseases (VPDs) are coming into Kenya from Somalia. I helped facilitate a focus group training for Kenyans to interview Somali migrants who cross into Kenya, with the goal being to understand where we should target immunization campaigns. We printed large maps for focus group participants to show migration routes, where nomadic people cross the border and where they access healthcare, etc... One of our questions was, ‘where are the Somali communities settling in Kenya?’ This question, however, confused our trainees because “we are all Somali”. They explained that Somali are a people, not a country. People move freely across eastern Kenya and southern Somalia, as they follow the seasons with their cattle – searching for greener pasture and water, and in more recent years they are also escaping the effects of global warming and terrorist attacks. Lesson one, the people we needed to focus on do not define themselves based on a nationality, but rather a way of life- so our question would have to change from ‘Somali’ to ‘nomadic’. We asked our trainees to submit their photographs, maps and reports through the internet. They all have smart phones and email addresses which suggested that it would be a possible option. To make sure it would be feasible, we enquired if there were ever network problems and if they could they submit electronically. “The tower was bombed three months ago”. A fact stated so casually that I had to double check to make sure I heard them correctly. The more I listened the more I became lost in the complexities of their reality. “Do not send them in nice vehicles, that’s what ‘they’ target”; “We should not invite security people to our meetings- the community is afraid of them”. Al-Shahaab, the regional terrorist group, are mostly focused in southern Somalia, but the porous borders allow them to also focus some attacks on the Kenyan side. They, like the other terrorist groups of our era, attack anything which does not fall within their idea of ‘correct’ and use bombings as a visible way to create fear. Lesson two, they could collect all the data in the world, but I will never truly understand their lives because my reality is nothing like theirs. We sent our data collectors to the field two days after the training, and hope that within the next two weeks we can receive a glimpse of what is happening on the ground. Also we will get to see if we conducted the training well enough to get back strong data – data we can use to support the region. In my short tenure at the CDC I have learned that I am in the minority. My colleagues are Scientists, with a capital “S”. If the sample is not large enough, the correlations are not sufficiently proven, or the study under enough control; then the results are invalid. This perspective makes it very challenging when studying people, because each person has the ability to make a choice. Unlike mice, our choices are intertwined with our realities, which are the direct result of our social, economic, and cultural backgrounds. This is where those trained in the hard sciences stumble. We cannot implement a program in a community and say with exact certainty what will or will not work. This is where I come in, the only anthropologist in my entire division. We need to train our data collectors to not think like epidemiologists – people live in village A. We need to train them to think like anthropologists – people live in village A because… The method of study needs to be qualitative, because ordinal values do not exist in the gray areas of human society; causing those trained in the hard sciences to struggle with training others to think outside of Excel boxes. They do not know how to collect it, analyze it, use it…. That is why I was brought onto this project, to create a training which would bring back qualitative data sufficient enough to inform programmatic direction. I look forward to seeing the data and getting another glimpse into their lives.
Something I love about my new job is the cacophony of cultures I am exposed to on a daily basis. Whether I am in the Atlanta office or traveling abroad - I am surrounded by a menagerie of different paths, identities, histories… On a recent trip to Uganda, for a training on Polio eradication, I had the opportunity to explore the country, reflect on diversity of its training participants, and get to know my coworkers’ backgrounds more (because that’s what anthropologists do for fun). Uganda sits in the middle of the continent, along the largest lake in Africa (Victoria). I thought it would be comparable to Malawi, they are both agricultural communities situated around large tropical lakes, and there were only a few of similarities – free-range dogs who looked like to Lilo (our Malawian dog we brought home last year), signs advertising for hair braiding and imported Chinese goods, and the spicy smell of campfires and earth. As it turns out, however, Uganda is what I imagined Malawi to be when I returned last year (after 5 years had passed since Peace Corps) but had not become. In Malawi the fishermen work in dugout canoes made from hollowed logs, while in Uganda the fisherman all have wooden boats made from processed wood hammered together into actual seafaring vessels. Malawi is turning into a desert landscape as trees and wildlife disappear due to deforestation and over hunting, but Uganda is lush allowing the wildlife to flourish and the landscape to remain tropical. The main highway in Malawi is two-lane, potholed and runs through the middle of small towns (leading to high traffic accidents and horrific pedestrian fatality rates), Uganda just completed a four-lane toll road lined with fences to keep bikes, children, and goats at a safe distance. Lake Malawi is so overfished that people are deduced to eating mostly ‘usipa’ (small sardine like fish), while Lake Victoria produces a plethora of Nile Parch and Tilapia the size of a grown man’s arm. Uganda is not perfect (the president just did away with age and term limits so he could maintain his 32 year reign), but the people are enjoying more of what I wish I could have seen in Malawi (Half of the population in Malawi live in poverty, while Uganda sits around 17%). Back to the training, the differences across the participants was an anthropological gold mine. First, those colonized by France – spoke French, and those colonized by England – spoke English. There were a few impressive individuals who could speak both languages, but for the most part hard lines were drawn by their colonial history. In fact, two men were raised in neighboring villages along the Nigeria/Benin border - they have surnames which come from the same tribe but one spoke French and the other English. These lines were so defined that it even determined whether they took tea or coffee during break time (the French took coffee while the English had tea). Moreover, their level of engagement was dictated by their culture. Those from West Africa spoke a lot – they had an answer to every question and a question for every answer. Those from the Horn of Africa only spoke when pushed to do so, they were partially shy (as one Ethiopian man explained to me) but also didn’t see the need to talk for ‘talking’ sake. Our Liberian colleagues spoke with pride and slight American undertones (they are part of the ‘back to Africa’ movement created by African-Americans seeking to escape slavery). Those from countries boarding the Arab world would leave for prayers, while our Southern African guests made an effort to find local churches for Sunday worship. Those from richer nations could be seen taking outings on evenings or weekends, while those who’ve lived a lifetime in frugality stayed in and ate from local markets. To those who say Africa is a country – their tribal histories and colonial past have made very sure they remain distinctly different. (Above is a zoo turned nature reserve that we visited over the weekend. Note that Jane Goodall was also seen at one of her Chimpanzee Reserves).
Another gem from my trip was the chance to get to know my coworkers more. We often shared meals or evening walks around the grounds, and in that time I learned that there is diversity just a cubicle away. One very engaging dinner conversation had us discussing the highly complex workings of kinship, weddings, and inheritance … One gentleman from India told us a story about how he was called home from university to marry someone he had never met. Within a month (having not seen her before the day of his wedding) he was married to a woman who he would spend the next twenty years with (they are still together today). According to their traditions, love will grow with time as long as the match is well made. In this case it was an astrological chart made by the bride’s parents that proved to the groom’s parents that their future was ‘written in the stars’. In another story, a co-worker from west Africa had to return to his fiancé’s village to pay a bride price in order to assure her unruly relatives would not cause chaos in their home region. Neither of them live there anymore, nor did they particularly feel that a ‘blessing’ was needed – but in a world where law and order remain rooted in tradition – it would assure peace. During these evening after work discussions, one person from the Caribbean brought up how America is one of the few places in the world where nursing homes exist at such a large scale – and how you would never see someone from her home country put their parents a nursing home. Seeing the opportunity to explain a bit of my culture – I pointed out that in some instances it may be neglect from the children, but in my family’s case my great-grandmother was too fiercely independent. The idea of relying on her children to take care of her was out of the question. Being in her ‘assisted living facility’ she could go to BINGO if she wanted and make new relationships with people her age without the need for someone to drive her. In our culture independence pushes children out of their family homes after graduation and encourages the elderly to stay in their own homes for as long as possible. But in other worlds the children stay home until they are married and the moment a child can support their parents – the parent moves back in with the child. Through traveling, asking questions, and being open to interpreting the world through someone else’s eyes we can begin to better understand our own… and how to exist in a world full of plurality. I wish I could take some of my fellow Americans, those with their minds closed to the outside world, to these places and show they why there are refugees, immigrants, religious diversity, those to drink tea rather than coffee…. Because we are the subject of our histories – and if we want our children to know a different reality then we need to work today to change their past. Have you ever returned to something after many years of being away- an alma mater or your hometown… As we go back to the people and places from our past we forget that time has moved forward without us being there to see it happen. We see the world through our own eyes, but many people fail to realize that there are billions of other eyes also watching the passing of time. We return and expect to see it as it once was, and often fail to reconnect with the new identity it has taken on. I returned to Elon once, walked around the campus and failed to recognize anyone around me- the familiar faces of classmates were gone. There were new people playing rugby on my pitch and unfamiliar students listening to my professors in class. I instantly felt as if they stole something from me- they took my position in that space and there is nothing I could do to get it back. In places such as this time passes quickly, the old campus only remains in the past and in my memories while the new one takes one the personality of its new student and political times. Where I once protested ‘stop Sudan’, a new group had signs against anti-immigration policy. This week I have the chance to return to Ghana – the first place I ever went outside of the US, my first African Adventure. The difference in returning to places like this is that time does not appear to have passed in my absence. The same taxi drivers stand outside the arrival gate hoping for you to be their passenger, the same buildings fill the skyline and symbolize the times of boom- a time much further in the past than my last visit. The driver on the way to the hotel points out the ‘new’ parliament building with great pride, but it is only new because there has been no other structure built to replace it since the 60s. Time does pass in these places, it is the signs of development and change are absent. This is how I feel every time I return to Africa. There was a time when ‘new’ was built every day, back when the first presidents –Kwame Nkruma, Kamuzu Banda, Jomo Kenyatta- came with an appetite for development. They built those ‘new’ parliament buildings, paved road, and spoke about the progress their people would see. Those people who stood at their speeches are now grandparents, hoping that maybe their grandchildren will see what the speeches preached about in their youth. Now the paint is peeling from the buildings, the homes continue to be made with thatch and mud, and the town centers look like they have gone back in time rather than forward. This leaves me wondering – why? Why do places like Accra stop moving forward while development happens elsewhere? In short, I do not know… but I do have a few theories One, there is complacency in stagnation. Movement takes effort while standing in place is easy. There are people who do not have a drive to help development. They are fine getting by but do not see their personal roles in helping the cause. That drive to help your community is not common in the world, but in underdeveloped countries, there must be a greater push from the mases. In the US it is okay to be the status quo because there are people pushing forward who have the resources needed to pull everyone up with them. Elon has new buildings because singular families have money to fund them. America is not full of change leaders, and Africa is not devoid of them. This bring me to my second point - the resources are not available in most of Africa to create development. It takes money to build and the average African does not have it at their disposal. When you are poor – life is a lot harder when trying to meet basic needs. I learned this in college while studying poverty in America. We had to navigate the daily life of a person of poverty – run the necessary daily errands without a car, without computers, without privilege. My group spent our entire day navigating bus systems, standing in social services lines, and being ignored. This is the fate of people in America without money, and in Africa this is the daily practice of the majority. There are no loans to buy your first car or to go to college and there are few jobs available that pay above the living wage. The social service and resources are harder to reach for those in Africa who want to be catalysts for change. Thus, it requires a lot more from an individual to pull not only themselves but the whole country out of poverty. Lastly, there is a need to look for the diamonds in the rough. We need to highlight the fighters, the changers, the successes. Look at the little progresses that have occurred and see what catalyzed it. The question I pose to Africa is - What is moving you forward and what is holding you back? Successes have been made in Immunization – why? A new house for the president was completed – who built it? Students are graduating from college – What next? We need only to ask the questions, provide the resources where needed, and empower the people to change. So, as we return to people and places – do not assume you know them. As I return to Ghana I have been asking questions on progress and politics to understand the current state of the country. Because I do not see change on the surface it does not mean that great leaps and bounds have not happened in my absence. We must learn the identities of the ‘new’ , understand what happened there while away, and find your new identity within the space. I am not longer a student studying the past- My new identity in Ghana is a evaluator trying to understand what is happening and how I can provide guidance for it to better. How do we help a community develop? This is the question which every NGO manager, aid worker, and humanitarian asks themselves. There have been countless books written on the subject, each with its own hypothesis hoping to rock the development world into action. Sachs, Collier, and Farmer- with each turn of the page we learn of new and improved ways to save the world. Through these theories, while all counter to one another and convoluted in their presentation, we are given hope that there is a solution. However, if anthropology has taught me anything - it is that there is no panacea. I believe that it must start with an evident first step, the same first step which alcoholics pass through – the affected communities must first admit and understand that there is a problem. While seemingly obvious to an outsider, this is what people on the inside of the developing world have yet to ascertain. Yes, they can see that they do not have the luxuries which other people have, but the actual problem is never really pin pointed. People know that they are hungry, but they do not see the broken market chains or social history which have led them to that moment – the moment when they have to choose to skip a meal so that there will be a fuller plate later in the day. The trick is, these problems are never the same; it is like a virus taking on new hosts – within each community it changes forms, adds new layers from an individual’s history, and recreates itself to feed off the culture which will unknowingly nourish its spread. The original problem then hides itself within layers of other issues and makes itself like the bucket list which has gone unchecked for years and is now too daunting to even begin. So, how can the layers be peeled back to expose the core problem? Can the education of one child or the survival of a pregnant mother create a ripple effect through all the other problems? Can we name one problem – fix it and then go on the next? Yes... but more on this in a moment... Second, we must also define exactly what development is and what it is not. It is not a satellite dish or luxury SUV – yet these are the things which people envy and count in their successes. When we take outsiders to Usisya all they see are metal roofs, which leads them to comment on the development which must be happening. However, when you look inside the houses you still find an unfurnished living room and hungry people. In West Virginia people will drive the newest and largest model truck but still live in a trailer. These things provide status – and nothing else. Metal roofs and cell phones …. this is not development. I believe development is like the evolving problem: it is different for each community and household. While teaching in Portland I quickly realized that all my students would not get straight A’s; but that some would draw amazing portraits in art class, others would work hard and turn failing grades into C’s, and some would excel in sports. To assume all countries will one day be developed to the standards of the Western world is to have the same ignorance which thinks all children can achieve straight A’s. Development is the hard working student who brings up her grades. Consequently, if development is upward momentum following hard work, then what is the catalyst to starting change? I would first suggest there is a barrier in that outsiders are the ones who want to do all the hard work. This would be like the teacher filling in answers on the math quiz – it will get the kid through that class, but the child will fail the next year when that teacher is gone. Thus, I would suggest that the individual community members are the ones who need empowered and inspired to change themselves. They should be given the tools to pull themselves up, not the handouts which only last long enough to check boxes on grant spreadsheets. Malawi has taken on the culture of accepting and expecting handouts, in fact the largest complaints we get after trainings in that they were not compensated enough in food and per diems to make it worth their time. While the benefits should be marked in the knowledge gain, they are diverted to travel allowances and breakfast per diems. In summation, development is a community’s upward momentum which overcomes the barriers of adversity, bypasses the need for handouts, and provides technical assistance so that ‘this is what my grandparents did’ is no longer the standard of practice. Now, circling back to the problem which is layered into all of the folds working to stop progress; I would suggest it will never be named as its original form. The problem is no longer colonialism, culture, access... it is all of these things and everything else. It is ingrained is every aspect of life within the developing world. There is hope though, in that the solution is in the community itself. If the problem is a virus, then the solution lives within the host. It is an individual looking at the list and deciding that today I am going to check this one box – I am going to send my child to school, I am going to get tested and know my HIV status, I am going to plant my maize using compost as fertilizer... We, the people who want to be the catalysts for change, can talk until we are blue in the face – it has to be the local people who decide they want to change and understand the problems. This should be our role, the role of the outsider is to shed light on their situation, provide them the tools which they need, and step back. This is why I went into anthropology, I want to help people understand themselves so that they can develop into a world which has all they need to thrive. I truly believe this is how we save the world – we show the world who it is and let it decide the next move. Christmas in Malawi has never felt like Christmas at all. Maybe it is the 100 degree heat or the lack Mariah Carey blaring on the radio; or maybe it is being far from the Heart of the Season- friends and family. Regardless of the reason, I have decided to not put too much weight on this time of year, because it could only end in nostalgia and disappointment. George and I have the week off from work as staff finally get a bit of respite from their long weeks spent doing field work and typing reports. For Malawians it is a time to do nothing- they sit around their house and chat, make nsima, or work in their maize gardens. Christmas in Malawi is not covered with tinsel and gifts because it has the unfortunate timing of happening at the height of the planting and hungry seasons.
Families in Malawi are not deciding which Amazon gift to order but rather whether they should slaughter a goat for one large Christmas meal or to save their money and eat two full meals a day for a few more weeks. There are no gifts pilling on Santa’s sleigh- one Malawian told us he does not tell his children about Santa because that would only lead to disappointment on Christmas morning. Having a ‘White Christmas’ is representative of the fact that Jesus was white and not the dream of glistening snow – in fact Christmas is a time to remember the Christian roots of the holiday not the consumerism which we have grown to know it for. So, people will go to church and pray for baby Jesus, for salvation, and for food. To have a good Christmas in Malawi is to have a full stomach and for the rains to start watering crops- these are the things Malawians wish for at Christmas (they don't even have a word for snow). There is a part of me which wishes that children in America would feel more blessed, that tantrums would not ensue because the latest game system is missing under the tree. Then, I switch my perspective and wish that the children of Malawi could know that worry – that the latest toys are missing from their homes is the biggest challenge they face - that they would not feel the absence of food or school books. I do not judge people in America for buying presents, I have been the recipient of many gifts and am equally guilty of gluttony from cookies and feasts. We cannot carry the ‘White Man’s Burden’ and send all of our wealth across the ocean nor will hunger be solved by skipping out on the traditions which we love so much at home. This whole internal debate makes me think of the aid song which says ‘Do they know it’s Christmas?’ Malawi does not need Santa or a Christmas tree (deforestation is another issue altogether) – they know it is Christmas because they have years of colonialism which has engrained it in their annual calendars. I believe that it is not a question of knowing about the holiday season; it is merely acknowledging that people exist here – and in Syria and Iraq and Haiti and Israel- that there are people outside of our little worlds. After all, that is what I believe the holidays should be about – the woman ringing a bell for the Salvation Army and the boxes sent abroad from Operation Christmas Child. It is about doing little things for other people when and where you can. We do not need to sacrifice any part of our lives; we merely need to include compassion in those lives. So, as you put away your Christmas decorations and make plans for the New Year... Don’t change living your life, just do what you can to help other live there’s along the way. My mother always use to say 'live and let live' and I believe in that more than ever. This year we are helping people through a water filter project and giving food to people during this year's hungry season. We thank all of our amazing friends and family for sharing Christmas through donations to the cause. I can't wait to start sharing your warmth with the village. If anyone else would like to give.. you have one week before we start the projects and close our giving accounts. Giving Site and/or Pay Pal (paypal is better as we don't lose a percent of the donation) And, if your finances are tight this year then we understand. Just remember to give something to someone else in 2017 - a compliment, a warm coffee, a hug... it has been a difficult year for the world... let's make 2017 the best year we can. “Pure water is the World’s first and foremost medicine.” - Proverb
An estimated 2.5 billion people lack access to basic sanitation, 4 billion people will contract a diarrheal disease annually, and 1.8 million people will die every year from drinking contaminated water. The International Declaration for Human Rights cites clean water as a basic right which all people need and deserve – yet many do not have access. Looking particularly at Malawi, a 2012 survey showed that 18 % of children under 5 have had a diarrhoea monthly, and 74 % of those cases require oral re hydration solution (ORS) for their recovery. Still further, even with a clean water source – there are many points of contact (collection, transport, and storage) which can contaminate water before it is consumed. So, providing water is only half the battle – there must also be the mechanisms in place for that water to make it from the tap to the mouth whilst staying bacteria free. As I walk through the villages today it is clear that Nkhata Bay North continues to have poor water and sanitation- inevitably causing long lines at their rural health centre which happens to have no doctor. When I ask people in the village, “why do you drink water that is untreated”, the response is always simply put– “we are just used”. In the Usisya delta there is tapped water to most of the houses through a very complex and old gravity scheme. Most of the taps leak or do not work, but the water is often treated with chlorine at the source – allowing for fairly consistent clean water. However, in a recent visit to the village we found the source dried up leaving everyone reliant on lake water. This would not be a massive problem; most people live quite close to the lake, except for the fact that treating water is not a large part of the local culture. In fact, if you visit the lakeshore in the morning you will find children brushing their teeth in the lake while a herd of cows take their morning drink nearby. Still further, even when the taps are working the source is not always treated yet people continue to drink straight from the tap without acknowledgement to its contamination (this is partially the fault of local water authorities who fail to inform the community that they have run out of chlorine). Having learned about the dried river and that there are now 14,000 people without a clean water source, we quickly brainstormed solutions. First, we spoke with the CCAP SMART Center (who put in some boreholes a few years ago – which are now be non-functional) and asked if they could immediately their fix three broken wells. As usual they were accommodating and ready to head to the village with a team to fix the wells... by result we facilitated an immediate fix of three clean water sources available in the village. Second, we decided to assess the local community’s plan to fix their water situation. Some local water committee members informed us that they want to lay pipes from a river on the other side of the valley. Our initial response to this plan was that it will take a lot of time and money. Also, if they pull from another river then who is to say it will not dry up as well? Serendipitously, we had contacts with a seasoned pro on the matter and called him in for a consult. Once again proving the giving nature of African expats, our irrigation consultant agreed to go to the village and report back with his professional suggestions... this has allowed us to begin making long-term plans for how to make the village more water secure. Apart from fixing wells and helping with long term plans, there is little else we can do immediately. The next step is to try and convince people that they must treat the lake water before consuming it. However, how do we create behavior change? How do we convince thousands of people that drinking from the lake is harmful when they have been doing it for generations? The fact of the matter is that people know drinking untreated water is bad, but they also believe that if they have survived this long then their bodies must be strong against the bacteria. In truth, one of our field officers filled an empty bottle of coke with lake water and handed it to an HIV positive youth. When I chastised our staff for doing this, he said “his body is used to it”. So, if we have not even convinced the people who we pay to put out the right messages, then how do we reach the masses? Therein lies the issue, I believe the barrier which is keeping people from making decisions counter to the whole is that they are all just used! They wait for hours on the minibus (the same one which drives me to the angriest version of myself), they accept low salaries for long work days, they eat bland food with tasteless nsima (and actually miss it when far from home), and they do all of this because they have always done it. Yes, of course you hear the complaints, but there is never action. A recent news article said that if a minibus has more than capacity then everyone should rise against the driver and demand to not pick more people. However, I have only seen people begrudgingly make more space and hold their new travel companion’s child while more people pile into the sardine can. Change, across the world, is difficult to create because we are creatures of habit and culture. We do as our ancestors because it is what we have always done. Studying this point of behavior change, our third effort to help bring clean water to Usisya is through putting together a pilot project proposal which will put 200 water filters in a portion of Usisya’s households. Then, following a training on water and sanitation, we will try and track if people are shifting to treat their water and practice clean water practices. The reality is that we cannot put water back in the dried river nor can we force people to treat their water before drinking it. We can only hope that by giving people the education and tools needed – they will change their mantra. The hope is that with concentrated trainings, strong data collection, and community driven campaigns we will change the local culture around water usage. Then again, maybe it will just be another failed project in Africa, as that is always the risk associated with community development – that it will fail. At the very least we will begin to have some insight into creating behavior change and cultural shifts with the rural villages which we serve. Also, maybe a few people will shift, maybe one less child will miss school due to sickness or one more mother will give her baby safe water to drink. You do not change communities through floods of action, but rather small drops of change "Our Lives Begin to End the Day We Become Silent About Things That Matter."
- Martin Luther King Jr. When one looks back through history, extraordinary people can be seen who spent lifetimes fighting for those who could not fight for themselves. Standing up against the all-encompassing gloom of corruption, tyranny, racism, hatred ... is exhausting and can sometimes blind us against the tiny light (goodness, giving, hope) that still exists silently in the darkness. I am not a political person, but today I cannot help but question the morals of people in America who support racism, and the rampant corruption keeping Africa from developing. As I face both of these attacks on ethics and morality on a daily basis, I weigh them against one another- which is worse and which causes more devastation? On one side, America is currently having its morality challenged with blatant racism amongst those who swear to protect, following a blind belief that a ethically questionable individual could lead with a steady hand, and that money is more valuable than Centuries- old sacred lands. I am a proud American, travelling has made me see just how great our country can be; but in times such as these I find myself less likely to wave my nationality in public. For months people have been debating on social media and families have been torn across the electoral divide. Being an anthropologist, I always try and put myself in the shoes of other people- I want to understand why people would possibly vote for Trump, why does a pipeline need to pass through sacred lands, and what would make a young African America fear her local police force? I won’t go into the intricacies of these tests against our ethics – we have all heard the arguments and watched social media- through all of this I have tried to stay objective. However, I cannot stay quite... Because the decisions made this week and in the coming months will impact everything that I love and value- it will make that tiny light of hope, which I am desperately trying to cling to, go out and I fear never return. If you live in a city with a corrupt police force or close to the pipeline protests- take a stand. If you allow ignorance to continue then you are no better than the racist white-man pulling the trigger. Look at history – look at the regret people have felt for standing by while their communities are torn apart. Don’t ignore race, we are a world of multiple cultures and skin tones, there is no question that I see the world differently than someone who follows Islam, than the African-American who grew up in the ghettos of Chicago, or the West Virginian Methodist that believes prayer will heal. It is our diversity that makes us great, it allows the world of have millions of realities and endless potential. If we do not realize this, and continue to use the old motto of “Us versus Them” then change will never come and we will continue to have the same challenges as our ancestors. Just look at the photos from the pipeline protests and try to deny that it is not reminiscent of the photos taken in 1965 at Selma's Edmund Pettus Bridge. If we do not learn from our past – then we are doomed to repeat it. On the issue of Trump, I once again have tried to understand. He has run a large business (somewhat successfully), he is not a politician, and he understands the struggles of the working man.... However, when you put these arguments against facts, I still do not get it. Malawians have asked me, “why do Americans want Trump, he will destroy everything?” and I have no response. How can Malawians understand what Americans cannot? Maybe it is that they have been living under corruption for so long that they are in a rare position to notice it, or because they have experienced first hand what poor American presidencies can do to the African Continent (Bush did a lot of damage here). From my perspective – it is clear that when a white cop shoots an unarmed black child it is wrong and racially motivated, and that Trump is unquestionably sexists and racist with no concept of how to be a true global leader; and I cannot (not matter how much I’ve tried) understand the other reality which is shared by so many. I have an amazing (soon to be) sister-in-law who is Muslim – she has spent her lifetime working to become a doctor so that she can heal people and help mothers through the intricate challenges of bringing forth the next generation. The fact that someone could group such a kind soul with terrorism, threaten to deport her, and make her feel unloved and unwelcomed is unacceptable. Trump has fuelled this hatred – he has made the amazing diversity of America appear to be our weakness and something which should be feared. If you vote for Trump then you cannot see what my Malawian coworkers see- maybe you do not see that you are backing racism, maybe you have not felt what it is like to be hated simply for your heritage, or maybe you actually believe that Muslims, Mexicans, Syrians, Somalis... are less of a human than yourself. On the other side of my debate around 'which is worse', today in Usisya there is no water (the local river has dried up), there is no food (people are eating 1 meal a day of only pounded maize flour), and the hospital is seeing 80-100 patients a day who are inflicted with preventable diseases. They are in this position because generations of greedy individuals have stolen and laundered the money/food/ support which was supposed to help them build up out of poverty. I do not know how anyone could steal the food meant to feed a hungry family, anymore than I understand the individual who would support Trump. Who is causing more damage? The local “business man” who builds his riches off of aid meant for the most desperately poor, or the “business man” who fuels his campaign through fanning the flame of fear against the great multi-cultural people who build America... how do I weigh these things and where do I take up the fight? In the end, I have decided to take up my fight with those who support such actions. One man cannot take down a country, one man cannot steal millions – it is the people who stay quiet and the people who openly support these individuals who I blame. Trump was one of 17 Republican Candidates and the American people are the ones who got him to the final voting line. This is my plea... put yourself in the shoes of the African-American youth, the Muslim-America, the poor family is rural Africa. Try and see the world from the perspective of the people your "leaders" are hurting – and then try to say that the stolen money, the poorly placed vote, or the silence/ignorance are okay to continue with. “The World is a Dangerous Place to Live, Not Because of the People Who are Evil, But Because of the People Who Don’t Do Anything About it.” - Albert Einstein Morning rituals exist across all cultures. There is of course variance within the culture, i.e. the teenager who manages to sleep past noon, but for the most part the rituals within a given community are similar. In The States we set alarms, hit the snooze button a few times, and then drag ourselves out of bed for our rite of food, coffee, and a shower. Getting out of bed is done with great reluctance and weekends are always the subject of early morning desire. Americans value our sleep because we work long days and often do not get the required 8 hours of sleep every night (of which technology is partially to blame). There is the rare early bird - but they are aware of how sleep is valued amongst their peers - they try to not wake the rest of the house... they shower, eat their bowl of Cheerios, fill a coffee mug for the road, and drive off to whatever desk job or assembly line they belong to. A few people have the motivation to even wake up early and go to the gym (something I have yet to achieve steadily), others have children which require longer mornings - but for the most part sleeping past 9am is a desire for many. This is the morning as I have always known it - felt with reluctance and quite transitioning into functionality. Malawi has a different sort of concept of mornings, the kind of perspective that could drive an outsider crazy (and if you can't tell... currently is). First off, Malawians do not appear to value sleep in any way, nor do they understand the concept of quiet morning rituals. Here, the people sleep and wake with the sun. Once the first sliver of light comes over the mountains, they wake up naturally and begin cleaning, collecting water, and tending to the animals. But, before anything else the floors must be moped and the front yard swept in illogical concentric circles so no blade of grass dare appear. This is amplified in the village - Women yell across compound walls to greet good morning, children run around doing chores and the vegetables sales-women start yelling for customers - ' Mapuno... Mapuno... Mapuno' (Tomato). Also waking with the sun is every animal in the country - song birds (some which ironically sounds like alarms - only with no snooze button), roosters, dogs, bees, guinea fowl, goats .... Everyone is let out of the nighttime kraal/kennel and set free to wake world. This is, once again, amplified in the village as there are simply more barnyard animals and less compound walls to keep them from gathering into one chorus. Then, once the yard is swept and water collected for the day's rations it's time to get ready for the day. In Usisya this means children going to the lake to splash their faces and brush their teeth, women go to the lake to wash the pots which remain from the previous night's dinner, and cattle gather for a morning drink (the sanitation of this ritual will be the subject of a later post). In town - at 6 the watchmen begin their journeys home, then at 7 gardeners arrive for the day shift, and at 8 the bwana's (bosses) head off to work. There is no coffee or proper breakfast - so I am not sure what happens between the 4:30 am yard sweeping and the 8 am departure - but somewhere in that there work shifts change and people head off to work/school or back home after a late night patrolling compounds. This local concept of - get up and go - has been one of the more challenging cultural practices to adjust to. Maybe it is difficult becuase it happens early in the morning - when my mind can quite the groggy anger or maybe it is because in my culture waking people is considered rude and inconsiderate. Being an anthropologist I often find myself saying 'it's a cultural difference, don't get mad over cultural differences.' However, the anthropologist in me doesn't turn on till after 8am, and when the guard knocks on my window at 6am to tell me something inconsequential - it takes every ounce of me to greet a happy good morning to them 'Nawuka makora iyayi' ( I did not wake well). |
Bonnie HarveyCurrently working in northern Malawi as Programs and Evaluations Coordinator for Temwa Archives
June 2019
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