A Hard Day's Night

Tired of staring at my unopened bag of Malawian coffee, I made a coffee filter last night by sewing a chopped up piece of clothing to a metal sieve. OK, it was underwear, but they were brand-new, never worn I swear!

Today I made a Mozambican child cry with my white skin and dug a live ant out of my ear canal. All in a days work.

Working in the NGO sphere and seeing that aid, however well-intended, can create dependency among the most impoverished families it is intended to support, you can’t help but sometimes wonder, what would happen if all the organizations just left? I’m beginning to feel that the greatest loss would not be the halt of projects that, admittedly, aren’t always as sustainable as they intend to be, but the loss of jobs for the many Africans who are employed by World Vision, Save the Children, The World Food Program, and similar institutions. Every day that I spend here, it is brought more clearly to my attention that volunteer work is, ironically perhaps, a luxury. Having the time, energy, resources, and support to spend your days traveling around and initiating relief projects, as opposed to feeding your children, is not something most Africans can afford to do, and thus why NGO’s have wisely recruited Africans as salaried employees, however modestly compensated, as opposed to volunteers. Although, according to some wise old philosopher, “comparisons are odious”, when I think of the time I will spend here, my goals for the future, and even potential career paths in development work, it’s hard to imagine anything I could do as being anything but luxurious.

A rough night of sleep (mosquitoes in my net and ducks outside the window) left me ill-prepared to face the blazing sun of the campo today as we set out for yet another garden-prep and compost demonstration. Even after applying sunscreen and borrowing a hat (gotta get one of those), my face broke out in angry red dots and I had to hang back from the group a little to find shade. One of 2 women in the training group (the mother’s weren’t really participating) and one of one white people, I had no hope of integrating anyway, so might as well protect my skin…