Back In The Saddle
Yesterday was our Annual General Meeting at the VCT, the first meeting we’ve had since October, even though we’re supposed to have meetings once a month. I still don’t know what happened to my supervisor and his little crew of allies at my organization. Maybe some little green man in a flat spaceship came and took them in the middle of the night, gave them a demo on how to make crop circles, and showed them a PowerPoint presentation about proper management skills.
There’s still traces of shadiness – knee-jerk defensiveness and stuttering excuses are still common – but they seem to have a renewed commitment. They say they’ll do something and the next day they’re doing it. They agreed to stop making decisions and spending money without the input of other members. My supervisor came to the meeting with an itemized list of everything he had bought with the VCT’s money, how much he had paid for it, and how much money was left. He agreed that from now on any donor funds would be deposited directly into the VCT’s bank account and not his. He agreed to prioritize income-generating projects instead of landscaping the front lawn.
And I’m being more patient, exercising restraint, listening more and interrogating less, giving the benefit of the doubt. It’s true that despite being here for almost six months I still don’t really get how Kenya works. Politics and tribalism run deep and can go back for years or decades, and outsiders are never fully trusted, although always fully solicited for money at every opportunity. My own cultural biases make it difficult for me to understand what is really happening sometimes. Kenyans do a lot of saving face. They’ll lie, keep secrets, tell you what you want to hear, all in the name of either protecting their reputation or not offending you. To an American, it all smacks of corruption. Why would you need to keep secrets if you don’t have anything to hide? We believe that if you have a problem, you should ask for help to resolve it. Kenyans believe that if you have a problem you should keep quiet and try to resolve it on your own, otherwise people will think you’re incompetent and untrustworthy. Getting people to be open, to work together, and think of each other as teammates united in a common cause can be hard, especially in this group.
I still have a little hope cupped between my hands that people in my organization can build it into an efficient, productive, well-run VCT providing valuable services to a community that desperately needs it. It will be a slow, non-linear process, and I’m still pursuing projects with other groups so that I don’t spend all my time working with an organization that could collapse at any time (in my cynical opinion).
I have made a teaching aid that I should have made the first month I was here. It’s just a page from a large flip chart on which I’ve scrawled:
What a Peace Corps Volunteer is NOT
Someone who donates or raises money for your organization
Someone who writes proposals for your organization
Someone who is solely responsible for inspiring and mobilizing your members
I also made a companion page that lists what a Peace Corps Volunteer is. I find that as soon as people meet a mzungu their instinct is to sit back and wait because they think she will get busy fundraising and writing proposals for them. And I am always tempted to just take the budget they’ve scribbled for me and bang out a proposal, because it’s much faster than teaching proposal writing to people who can barely identify a grammatically correct sentence. I still have to remind myself that everything I do has to be something that involves all group members and gives them the tools and knowledge to do it by themselves the next time. In development lingo, I’m a facilitator.
These two old men came to see me today asking for money for a water project and a rural electrification project.
“We want to write a proposal to CDF for funding,” one of them said. “And also you can assist us with some money.”
“I don’t have money,” I said, flipping on the anger switch.
“Of course you do,” he said. “You’re a white.”
“I don’t have money and I didn’t come here to pass out money,” I blurted out. I am still working on the patience and tact thing. “But I can help you write a proposal.”
“You can write the proposal for us,” he said. No one in their group has ever written one before, which is something I have in common with them.
“I’ll teach you all to write a proposal,” I said. “When I work with a group, I like to involve all the members so that when you finish the project you’ll say, ‘This is our project,’ instead of, ‘This is the mzungu’s project.’”
Both men laughed. I’m not sure what that meant, but they are expecting me to give a workshop on proposal writing next week, and they didn’t mention anything about coming with a check made out to their group.
There’s still traces of shadiness – knee-jerk defensiveness and stuttering excuses are still common – but they seem to have a renewed commitment. They say they’ll do something and the next day they’re doing it. They agreed to stop making decisions and spending money without the input of other members. My supervisor came to the meeting with an itemized list of everything he had bought with the VCT’s money, how much he had paid for it, and how much money was left. He agreed that from now on any donor funds would be deposited directly into the VCT’s bank account and not his. He agreed to prioritize income-generating projects instead of landscaping the front lawn.
And I’m being more patient, exercising restraint, listening more and interrogating less, giving the benefit of the doubt. It’s true that despite being here for almost six months I still don’t really get how Kenya works. Politics and tribalism run deep and can go back for years or decades, and outsiders are never fully trusted, although always fully solicited for money at every opportunity. My own cultural biases make it difficult for me to understand what is really happening sometimes. Kenyans do a lot of saving face. They’ll lie, keep secrets, tell you what you want to hear, all in the name of either protecting their reputation or not offending you. To an American, it all smacks of corruption. Why would you need to keep secrets if you don’t have anything to hide? We believe that if you have a problem, you should ask for help to resolve it. Kenyans believe that if you have a problem you should keep quiet and try to resolve it on your own, otherwise people will think you’re incompetent and untrustworthy. Getting people to be open, to work together, and think of each other as teammates united in a common cause can be hard, especially in this group.
I still have a little hope cupped between my hands that people in my organization can build it into an efficient, productive, well-run VCT providing valuable services to a community that desperately needs it. It will be a slow, non-linear process, and I’m still pursuing projects with other groups so that I don’t spend all my time working with an organization that could collapse at any time (in my cynical opinion).
I have made a teaching aid that I should have made the first month I was here. It’s just a page from a large flip chart on which I’ve scrawled:
What a Peace Corps Volunteer is NOT
Someone who donates or raises money for your organization
Someone who writes proposals for your organization
Someone who is solely responsible for inspiring and mobilizing your members
I also made a companion page that lists what a Peace Corps Volunteer is. I find that as soon as people meet a mzungu their instinct is to sit back and wait because they think she will get busy fundraising and writing proposals for them. And I am always tempted to just take the budget they’ve scribbled for me and bang out a proposal, because it’s much faster than teaching proposal writing to people who can barely identify a grammatically correct sentence. I still have to remind myself that everything I do has to be something that involves all group members and gives them the tools and knowledge to do it by themselves the next time. In development lingo, I’m a facilitator.
These two old men came to see me today asking for money for a water project and a rural electrification project.
“We want to write a proposal to CDF for funding,” one of them said. “And also you can assist us with some money.”
“I don’t have money,” I said, flipping on the anger switch.
“Of course you do,” he said. “You’re a white.”
“I don’t have money and I didn’t come here to pass out money,” I blurted out. I am still working on the patience and tact thing. “But I can help you write a proposal.”
“You can write the proposal for us,” he said. No one in their group has ever written one before, which is something I have in common with them.
“I’ll teach you all to write a proposal,” I said. “When I work with a group, I like to involve all the members so that when you finish the project you’ll say, ‘This is our project,’ instead of, ‘This is the mzungu’s project.’”
Both men laughed. I’m not sure what that meant, but they are expecting me to give a workshop on proposal writing next week, and they didn’t mention anything about coming with a check made out to their group.
posted by Justina at 5:59 AM
5 Comments:
Ish, well, happened on this blog today. I have only read this entry so far and so will reserve much comment. But just a comment, you sound mad, even condescending towards the people you are working even. And you are certainly given to generalisations. But atleast you mention the cultural divide. I will keep reading, and commenting too. If you do not mind.
http://potash.blogsome.com/
Hello potash.
As a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer living in Kenya, I enjoy reading Justina's blog because it offers me insight into my own frustration, and in fact does exactly the opposite of generalizing. She analyzes and compares frustrations faced here with life back home, and often gives two or more viewpoints of a situation.
I feel slightly defensive about your comment because it is really, really hard, coming from American culture, to live in communities where we are assigned to offer knowledge and empowerment, and then be asked for money on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. To find out that people don't value your education and your desire to be a representative for your country. To find out that they just want hand-outs. To have your ideas for income generation laughed at (yes, that has happened to me) even when they are supported by experts at the ministries of agriculture and health, because they require an investment of time and work. To be told by the very same people who could be earning money if they took the advice of these ministries that the idea is not feasible, and that really what they "need" is a sponsor. ("Why don't you ask your friends at home?") How many times have I explained that not all Americans are rich, that in fact all of my friends live in debt because they are students, and yet have people scoff at me like I'm lying in order to avoid giving them money?
Another really difficult thing is corruption. I'm lucky to work with an organization that keeps perfect records of their expenditures, but I'm a rare case. Many, many volunteers deal with organizations and schools where the chairperson or head teacher directly pockets the funds and everyone knows and yet no one does anything about it. And when we try to step in, the answer we get is always some variation of, "you wouldn't understand. it's our culture." Can you put yourself in our shoes? Imagine how that makes us feel. Even just writing about it now is upsetting me, because on the one hand people keep turning to us, the foreigners, and saying, "come on, you're rich, therefore you not only CAN but SHOULD solve our problems." Then on the other hand, something happens like CDF just swallows 4 million shillings and none of the community members knows what happens to it. And they don't challenge it. Someone once told me, "yes, but this is what poverty does to people. Once they get their hands on money they can't stop." My answer to that is, no, it's not poverty. It's selfishness. It's corruption. And it's not an affliction unique to Kenya, because we have it in America, too. In Kenya, however, the rub is that it's so visible, and everyone knows it happens, and no one tries to fight it. They just want you, the mzungu, to fill the gaping hole of funds left behind by their own neighbors.
This is only one aspect of our experience in Kenya. In fact, I really enjoy it here. The people are kind and generous. And I've made friends with some people who do really great work improving my community. I draw inspiration and wisdom from them. But I think Justina here has shown various aspects, and that you happen to have read one post in which she was airing her frustrations. Honestly, I could bitch all day about Kenya, and then you'd see who was the angry one. But at the end of the day, I think that us PCVs are the furthest from being "given to generalisations" of all the foreigners who live in Kenya. Because we live in our communities, day in and day out, for two years. Our entire purpose is centered around two things: 1) knowing our community, and 2) helping it. We eat, travel, bath, and sleep like a villager. And we're paid as our organization believes is necessary to live like a villager. So we understand a lot. Though, like Justina says, we're still ultimately outsiders. The difference is the culture we come from, and that's why we become angry. We weren't brought up to believe that corruption is acceptable.
I believe that I still have a lot of growing to do, to become a more patient person. But to say that Justina was being "condescending" when she angrily said the truth - that she's not here for handouts - is like saying that someone in my community is a "thief" for charging me 80 shillings for something that everyone else pays 40sh for. Maybe it's fair to assign those labels, but maybe it's just a cultural misunderstanding. Because of my pale skin, a shopkeeper thinks there's no harm in overcharging me because I can spare it. And because of her honesty, what Americans might perceive as "tough love" (telling you the truth even if you don't like to hear it because the truth is more beneficial to you), you think Justina is being harsh. Well, Americans value honesty. And Kenyans value maximizing their profit margin, and it seems perfectly fine to them because it's a bargaining economy after all. So why shouldn't I be charged twice as much?
I could really keep going, but I guess I'll stop here. This comment is already about 10 times the length I meant for it to be.
- Jennifer
Dear Jenny and Justina,
Let me start with Justina. I agree with Potash - you sound so mad and condescending towards the people you work with. True, many Kenyans will ask you for money, I cannot excuse this behaviour and know that it is maddening. However, once you tell a Kenyan what you can/cannot do, they will leave you in peace. You also accuse the men of laziness and the women of passivity, and somehow, you think that your presence or work will change this. It won't. Nothing you are doing there is of any value or will leave a legacy. Nothing will change because of you.
Jenny, the knowledge and empowerment you feel you are bringing are but an illusion.
The only people who will change Kenya are Kenyans.
And Justina, you take exception to being called Chinese, which is what you look like to Kenyans, and not to being called Mzungu - white. It might be a good idea to ask yourself why.
Lastly, you should know that the easiest route to frustration when living/working abroad is to compare the two places because they will no doubt be totally different.
And, again, you are wasting your time and deluding yourselves in believing that your work as Peace Corps is important to Kenyans. It is not.
Wow it took me three months to find this comment from Chepkemboi, buried as it is in my archives. The ignorance and hatred contained in your comment saddens me. I won't dignify most of your comments with a response, but I'd like to point out one thing that perhaps is not as obvious to some readers as I thought it was: one reason, certainly not the main reason, I don't appreciate being called Chinese is because...get this: I AM NOT CHINESE. The other reasons are far more complicated and have to do with cultural attitudes towards diversity in Kenya vs in the U.S. That's what makes it so frustrating, because when I confront someone who has just screamed "Ching Chong" at me, they don't understand why I've just gotten so upset. This topic is far too complicated to address in a comment; maybe I'll do a whole post on it. But maybe I won't.
Wow, lady! You sound like a serious bitch!
But I will give you the benefit of the doubt and interpret your hate-filled vitriol as stupid things that people say when beside themselves with anger. I've definitely been guilty of verbal diarrhea, so I won't pretend to be above it. I'll just hope you were reaching out for intelligent discussion.
So, first of all, let me say how happy I am that we agree on this fundamental statement:
"The only people who will change Kenya are Kenyans."
Y'know, that's almost my entire training: To evaluate the resources of groups and people I work with so we can map out a way forward without seeking outside resources. Kenyans taking charge of changing Kenya. Using a little of my training as a nudge forward. (And, mind you, if I didn't do it a Kenyan would probably come along and guide them. Justina and I aren't NEEDED here but the idea that we don't help is preposterous.) Kenyans do great work in development every day! The more Justina and I complain, the more apparent it should be to any reader that we believe that Kenyans are the real hope for Kenya, and that our frustrations arise from being told that WE ARE or WESTERN MONEY IS the answer.
So yeah... it's not as if I'm the only person who's ever gonna teach 500 kids the truths about how HIV is transmitted and how to use a condom but the idea that my doing so changes nothing is inconceivable.
Besides the educational aspect, I know that my friends in Kenya and my friends back home all benefit from the cultural exchange that happens in my life on a daily basis. I know I benefit the most on a personal learning level. Cultural exchange, plain and simple, increases understanding between cultures in the world. So me plus my friends here and abroad are maybe 0.001% of the world, but we're cancelling out your ignorant hate by educating ourselves to love, understand, and appreciate each other.
I don't believe in making changes in the world in large sweeps. If I were that deluded I would've left Kenya a long time ago, and if you're deluded enough to believe that progress is either made in large leaps or not at all, then you're the last person to contribute to any discussion on development.
Progress is not found in the misunderstandings that happen between clashing cultures. Progress is not found in the infatuations that happen between tourists and the hosts they know for 10 minutes. Progress happens when we live amongst each other regardless of our clashes and learn all the ways we are very much alike and ultimately grow to love each other.
"Lastly, you should know that the easiest route to frustration when living/working abroad is to compare the two places because they will no doubt be totally different." Bullshit, plain and simple. I think fondly of the differences between Kenya and the US every day, and know that both will hold special places in my heart for as long as I live, and that while I'm in one place, I'll always be homesick for the other.
Chepkemboi, if you don't have anything nice to say, please go to Hell and stop spreading your misery and hate in a world that has too much of it already.
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