Tough Love

Nothing worth a damn in this life comes easy. Development work is no exception. I really care for my community, Kenya as a whole, and generally my fellow man. That is why I force myself to be tough on them. I struggle on a daily basis not to give anyone anything. I don’t give sweets to the kids on the street, I don’t give sodas to my coworkers, I don’t write proposals to bring money to the office, and I certainly don’t give “chai” to any cops or taxi drivers. This may seem like a very backwards view of what a peace corps volunteer should be doing, but I really want Kenya to succeed in the future, and that means being tough on it now.

People who don’t know me in my community see me the same way they see any white guy in Kenya: a “White in shining armor” here to save the day (also as money bags with legs). As much as I’d love to be a hero, it’s somehow selfish to sensationalize a quick fix so I can feel like “I did something and it fixed Kenya.” First, there is no one single problem that would fix the world if it was solved. And secondly, I am not here to make my self feel good about helping others. If you don’t hurt as much as you smile, you’re not doing development work properly.

Development work is hard.  I mean, real development work, the sustainable kind that Peace Corps strives for.  That is why our contract is for 2 years.  Behavior change takes a long time, and it starts with respect and familiarity (coming from both sides), both of which also take a long time. I continuously read stories like “3 cups of tea” or any number of articles in the papers about volunteers that brought in so much money for important things like schools, or chicken farms, or tree planting initiatives.  And certainly these people are doing good work.  What kills me is the lack of laud and pomp for the volunteers that are developing those around them with education, empowerment, and encouragement.  Nothing seems to get published unless it’s about the monetary generosity of organizations or individuals back home who are able to send money to the volunteer, who is presumably directly at the source, and can truly utilize the money in the best way for the greatest good.  I’m not saying this is a bad thing.  But it’s hard to see how this country will be on it’s own in the next 30 years if it becomes dependent.

So many times during my stay here, I can’t help but think of the similarities between Kenya in the present, and America at the turn of the century.  I re-read “The Grapes of Wrath” while here, and so much of the story was being played out around me.  People are living in poverty, eating fried dough, not understanding how a flush toilet works, giving up their homes to head west to the land of opportunity where they hope to get a job (and where life would be perfect and fruitful).  Honestly, the similarities go on.  And I also can’t help but think about how many families in America 100 years ago struggled and had no help, yet managed to pull themselves up by their own boot straps.  You can see the values and strengths this fostered in Americans.  Certainly, it’s not that we didn’t have help, but I believe there is such thing as an irresponsible amount of help.  Like parents, we want to help our children with their homework, but not do it for them.  We want to assist them but also let them learn from mistakes,  which means maybe letting them make some mistakes even when we see them coming.

This part about development work is not fun.  It’s easy to slip into cynicism, about Kenya or about Development work in general.  But fortunately for me, I have seen the good sides of both Kenya and Development work.  I have seen Kenyans approach a problem and stumble, adapt, and try again.  I have seen volunteers refuse to write proposals for their communities (because they love their communities, remember), and it is a wonderful thing.  There are many parts about the Kenyan system that are designed to work for the people.  The local government has a fund called the “Constituency Development Fund (CDF).”  This is supposed to be a fund accessible to each locality, it’s size based on the population, and voted on by members that the community has chosen.  It can go to help anything from repairing a school classroom, to digging an “earth dam” to collect rain runoff.  Granted, often this money is siphoned off by corrupt officials, but some of it goes to a good cause.

A few months ago, one of the groups I had been educating about water sanitation and HIV/AIDS had come to me with an idea.  They thanked me for the education sessions (even though they already knew most of the info I presented), and said that what they really wanted was a center for AIDS orphans to stay, be cared for, and maybe go to school.  What a great idea, I said, and I told them to start thinking about all the details; how many children; if they are sleeping there, who will guard the compound; if they are going to school there, who will pay for the teachers?  I told them to make a very detailed plan.  They asked me where I could find the money for this, and I told them “you tell me.”

A week ago, they told me that they had applied for part of the CDF, and had already arranged for a plot of land to be given by the government for the construction.  I’m not holding my breath, but I can’t tell you how proud I was of this group for sticking to what they wanted, and finding a way to make it happen on their own.  They have the brains to do it, they have the means, and because they did it on their own they will have ownership of the whole thing.  I hope they are as proud of it as I am.

Now, I admit I am not completely selfless.  I do, from time to time, wish that I could be the subject of stories like “3 cups of tea” and be a hero and point to a physical object and say “that is saving people’s lives and it’s because of me,” but that’s selfish.  I do want to bring my community water, and agreed to write proposals to install another tank and gutters on two more schools before I leave, so I admit to acting a little hypocritically.  But to make it sustainable, I’m essentially blackmailing the community to help itself first.  I told the groups that I wouldn’t write the proposal until they raised enough money to buy mosquito nets and chlorine to treat water (which they will be able to sell for a small profit, and bring money into the group for future projects).  So I’m essentially bribing them to put effort into it.  If it sounds like I’m calloused and cold, but it’s because I care.

So here’s a shout out to all the volunteers who have not dumped any more fruitless money into their communities, and refuse to take the easy way out.  You are my heroes.

Friends don’t let friends develop others irresponsibly.