Where in the World is Colleen?

A couple weeks ago, I posted a note called “The Burden of Charity.” It was a strong piece, reactionary and controversial in nature. People reacted accordingly. To those who read, commented, questioned and shared it around, thank you! Your interest and comments encouraged me to look further.

There were a lot of good tough questions that came out of that discussion. I’ve held off answering mostly because I didn’t really know how to answer. I don’t have an appropriate or solid answer to things like “So what would be appropriate out there you think, if anything at all?” (Bodhi). At this point, I feel I am only able to tell you a bit about what I’m seeing and ask a lot of questions. So I went searching for some answers.

In that search I came across a few interesting articles and websites. Like my note, they are opinions, but I find them to be very valuable; they added to my initial reaction with thoughts and insight of their own.

What I have realized is that this is not a discussion about charity (although charity and development in general is part of it); it’s actually a discussion about INTENSIONS. The debate goes: Are good intensions enough to justify our actions? Or do we need to look further into the reasons behind and consequences of these actions? I fall on the side that good intensions are NOT enough and that the impact of actions will speak louder than the goodwill of their beginnings.

Good Intensions Are Not Enough

Beyond Good Intensions (If anyone can download/streamline this, I’d love to know what it is about)

To Hell with Good Intensions, an essay by Ivan Illich

This last article struck me pretty hard. Hard enough that I have spent the last couple of weeks struggling to reply to the good questions that were asked by friends and strangers alike on my first post. I’ve been crippled by the loss of motivation and self-criticism. I began to wonder what am I doing here?

What I have come to is this: I am a volunteer, but I long ago stopped referring to myself as one. Instead, I say I’m working. It’s a technicality. My pay cheque would mock any attempt to deny that technicality. The difference is perhaps in how I approach my work. This is my life and this is my job (for me the two are often one and the same… I come from a long line of work-a-holics). I treat it as such. I don’t expect to solve Malawi’s problems in one year. I certainly don’t expect to do so by handing out stuff or building anything. (“Azungu! Give me money!”) I have a possibility of influencing people I work with, or sharing the knowledge and skills I have gained through a couple of degrees at great universities. I can bring a new perspective, some expertise, a lot of questions, but very few solutions. Bringing solutions is neither my role nor my intension; it is not what an intensive month and a half of training from EWB, a year long Masters degree taught me to do.

I would be lying if I said that this was all about Malawi and Africa, about “serving the poor” and “helping those in need.” Yes, I really do think that’s important. I am constantly angered by the inequality of opportunity I see. But this is also a brilliant opportunity and investment in me to develop the knowledge and intuition needed to make better decisions in the future, to help my community and Canada make better decisions on aid in the future. It is an opportunity to connect two places that may at first seem two worlds apart, to teach Malawians something about Canada and more importantly I think to teach Canadians (or any other nationality following this) about Malawi.

Yes, this is an adventure. It’s new, exciting, a way to see new places, meet new people and learn a whole hell-of-a-lot. But this is not a vacation. It is not a gap-year where I came down under the pretence of building an orphanage, but spend most of my weekends and often some weekdays at an Azungu Paradise (fancy hotel), drinking and partying and trading cute stories about locals. This is my life and my work (did I mention I’m a work-a-holic*?) but it is also the life and work of many people around me. And maybe more than ever, those impacts are obvious. I travel, yes, but I travel to stay with farmers, or to see the manufacturing plant for our end product (chips). Is this self-less? Hardly. It’s essential for me to do my job, and the fact that I enjoy it and find inspiration in that is to me an added bonus.

I’m talking about the intension of investing. Of investing in good people to do good things that can really make a difference (Jeff Skoll) rather than good people who want to do good things but never stopped to examine their starting assumptions.

As we boarded our plane bound for Africa, Levi told us to be ready to unlearn all that we think we know in order to learn it all over again. It could not be more true. I traded theory for ground reality and will likely find my niche somewhere in the middle.

Am I self-less? No. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m a recovering narcissist. Am I any different than the people I’m criticizing? Well I hope that I ask a lot more questions and through that avoid the obvious blunders and band-aid solutions. I hope that my questions inform debates and discussions, that they do more than confirm a stagnated view. I hope to instead push people to re-evaluate, like I have had to do, my views on development, aid and charity. I hope that people will think a bit longer about their role in this complex and inter-connected web, about what part they have to play. (Stephanie Nolen)
And so I hope that I’m different, but likely only time will tell.

To me, good intensions are not enough. It’s what I do and what that means for my colleagues, friends, family and near strangers I meet that really matters.

*In a recent phone conversation back to Canada, someone asked me what I do in my spare time. It took a while for me to think of. Lately, when I’m not working or eating dinner with my family, I’ve been writing blog-posts, studying Chichewa and watching TED talks if my mind is too full to read, write or study anymore. It struck me that this was maybe not the answer he was looking for.

A brilliant article to compliment the article I wrote yesterday, from the president of Rwanda:

Africa has to find its own road to prosperity

We all know giving is good. Most people are inspired to help others, driven by a sense of fairness and duty. But what happens when that sense of duty and desire to help gets in the way of doing good work? What happens when you get in your own way?

I have often railed against charity, more since I have seen it here. People don’t need charity. They don’t need your pity and self-righteous help. No one, be they in a foreign context or in your own backyard, needs your quick fix solutions and answers to problems you don’t understand.

Good intensions are NOT enough.

Like the old proverb, “the road to hell is lined with good intensions.” It could not be truer.

I don’t think I will ever really understand what could motivate a couple of Canadians to fly over and think that they can do good work that would help people in a foreign context, with needs different than their own, with different priorities and constraints.

Over breakfast this morning, this is what I witnessed.

A charity (which I will keep unnamed out of courtesy to the individuals) of 4 people fundraised some money from friends and their community back in Canada. They have come out for 2 weeks a year for the past couple of years to help 5 villages in Malawi. They distributed mosquito nets, blankets, WaterGuard to clean the water. This year, they are here for 3 months.

At first glance, maybe this seems like a good idea. Yes, combating Malaria by the simple distribution of mosquito nets makes sense (to us) … less people sick, more people able to work, reduced expenses for healthcare and medicine… possible eradication of the disease. BUT, go deeper!! WHY do they not have mosquito nets? Could they not afford them? Do they not enjoy sleeping under the net? Is it not socially acceptable? Are they not able to access them? Are the distributors too far away? Are they waiting for an NGO or charity to come provide them? What is the government policy on mosquito net distribution?

The underlying assumption of distributing them for free is that people CANNOT access the nets for reasons of “poverty” or financial constraints. Maybe, but it’s much bigger than this. We are talking about an underlying behaviour change, like washing hands with soap, something people KNOW will keep them from getting sick but still don’t do, despite having readily available soap. So WHY did they need YOU to come in provide the nets? And when you are gone, what will happen to them? Will they use them? If they get torn, will they repair them? After all, they didn’t ask for the nets and didn’t buy them… what incentive is there for taking care of them?

It gets better. Someone (not clear who) decided that the children were not getting enough protein in their diets. (Incidentally, the problem is more that they do not get enough vitamins, which are provided for free when parents take their children to feeding and nutrition centers) The thinking went like this: Protein is important – eggs have protein (so do beans which are readily available and enjoyed) – chickens lay eggs – we should provide chickens. Great!

BUT… Who is going to get the chickens? (questions of access and control) Why do they not eat eggs now? Do they like eggs? Would they prefer to sell the eggs for profit and purchase something that they find more useful like maize flour to make nsima or pay school fees? Are they set up to take care of the chickens? (having safe and secure coups to prevent disease and theft… both prevalent issues) Who else in the area is working on nutrition? Are there government and CBO services available to manage these issues? (yes… the recommended yet poorly attended nutrition and feeding centres… better question is why are people no attending?)

There are many more examples… wells, boreholes, treadle and diesel powered pumps…

And if you go beyond this isolated example, you find stories like this littering the files and walls of far too many offices around the world.

To give these people a bit of credit, they are beginning to realize the complexity of what they have blindly stumbled into. They are taking it in stride, admitting failures as they see them, realizing that this model of giving and charity is not working… they are “at a starting over point.” But how far can you get when you a foreign charity with no vision and a limited if non-existent understanding of the culture and context?
(When asked for their vision for their charity: to help villages and to make them sustainable. I just about lost it.)

Yes, quick fixes and technical solutions are sexy. They are easy to see, easy to understand, easy to feel good about. But they are not the solution that is needed, assuming we could/should ever find a good solution to a messy and complex problem.

How do you avoid this? The only way I know is to admit that you and I DO NOT KNOW the answer, to admit your own faults and failures, to recognise success in others, to ask more questions than you ever thought possible. WHY? Because if we don’t do this, we will continue to make the same mistakes that we have made for the past 40+ years, we will continue to waste everyone’s time and money, and we seriously risk undoing all the good work that might have been done over those same past 40+ years.

I have written before about the tendency of people, usually children, to ask the Azungu for money. I have written some posts about how frustrating I find this, about how sometimes it makes me angry. This anger stems from the pervasiveness of the phrase, from the reminder at the colour of my skin, but more accurately, it stems from my perceived inability to do anything about it. The problem is that I have money, certainly I have more money than many Malawians, and the need is apparent and at times striking. But I don’t think that giving 10 Kwatcha (about 10 cents) to a bunch of children will solve the problem. In fact, I think it exacerbates it!

A few weeks ago, I had an idea. I’m not one to let my frustration get the better of me, and never like it when it does. My idea is this: For every child that asks me for money, I will put aside 10 Kwatcha in a little (or big) jar. At the end of the year, I will give the accumulated sum to a local organization that deals with children and that I feel (from my observations, input from my colleagues and friends) does good work and that will make good use of that sum. Rather than just giving a random sum, the money means something to me and will hopefully help feed, shelter or clothes some children for a period of time.

I was out for a walk today to clear my head, and out of the bushes popped a boy who said: “Give me money!” I said no, but in my head, 10 MWK went into my piggy bank, and I carried on my way with a little smile.