Thursday, March 23, 2006
To see Africa, cast aside stereotype lens
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Jonny Finity
Finity, of Blacksburg, is currently a Peace Corps volunteer serving in Kenya.
Surrounded by hundreds of beaming smiles, shining up at me as little hands flutter like butterflies, clutching and stroking and grabbing at my clothes or the hair on my arms, I can't help but smile back. Cacophonies of "How ah yooo?" and "Hallo!" pierce the air and fill my ears. My gaze sweeps over their big round, bright-moon faces, and they look away shyly, giggling.
Many schoolchildren cower silently in the back of the crowd with wide anxious eyes that don't know whether to laugh or cry. Sometimes they do cry, loud wails of desperation and confusion, especially the babies, at the very sight of this strange white man on their own dark continent.
I am a Peace Corps volunteer. When someone learns that you're moving to Kenya for two years, their reaction will probably be very similar to that of my friends.
They will click their tongues at you in an imitation of what they think African tribal languages sound like. They will point out all of the things you won't have: Electricity. Water. Toilets. Hamburgers. They will give you gifts of sunscreen. They will laugh at the thought of you with a 7-foot Nubian wife. They will tell you to watch out for elephants.
Africa is still an undiscovered land to most, in spite (or perhaps because) of Live8, Sallie Struthers and Nelson Mandela. People send billions in aid every year to feed naked, black, barefoot children with distended bellies who live under constant threat of death by malaria or AIDS.
"Hunger porn," as Paul Theroux described it, largely defines the Western view of Africa. I have to admit, my own reaction didn't differ entirely from that of my friends. Trying to describe life here to someone without the experience is an impossibly daunting task.
Barbara Kingsolver states the dilemma simply in "Poisonwood Bible":
"You wouldn't even get as far as breakfast before running out of paper. You'd have to explain the words, and then the words for words."
It's almost as difficult trying to clarify the distorted perceptions of American culture commonly held by Kenyans. The biggest shock for most people here comes upon learning that poor people exist in the U.S. "Why don't the rich people help them," inevitably follows. I don't have an answer that satisfies them.
The stereotype of Americans, especially white people, as rich Westerners complicates the situation for the Peace Corps, which does not provide project funding.
The first of the organization's three goals is to "meet the need of developing countries for trained men and women," an appropriately vague description given the variety of duties assumed by volunteers and, understandably, confusing host country nationals who tend to equate us with money.
The labor- rather than money-intensive approach of the Peace Corps is, ironically, its saving grace. Often well-intentioned foreign aid bankrupts Africa's entrepreneurial soul and replaces it with an insidious beggar spirit.
"Labor aid," on the other hand, encourages self-reliance and confidence in a people who are too often told that they can't do anything on their own.
Just this morning I attended a meeting of several dozen HIV/AIDS counselors who promote awareness through dramas and other theatrical performances.
Danson, the 23-year-old chairman, described his group to me using a biblical analogy. He told me of a woman who asked Elishah how God could use her. She had a small bottle of oil, so Elishah told her to collect pans from the neighbors. The small bottle filled all of the pans, with some left over. Then Elishah went away and did some other things too.
Danson told me that his group had the oil. They were just looking for pots to fill.
Incidentally, my house does have electricity; I speak Kiswahili (not a click language), and I haven't seen an elephant. Yet.
