As the only foreigner working with World Vision in Morrumbala, and a white woman to boot, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that my coworkers will always treat me differently. I don’t think it’s really racism; it’s more complicated than that. Even if one was inclined to dislike white people, they know unabashed prejudice is out of style. They’re kind and respectful to me, if reserved, almost as if they originally expected me to act superior (Because so many foreign whites have acted that way. So many still do) and are now reconciling that with the fact that I’m actually friendly, smiley, and look younger than I am. I try to imagine what it would be like if a dark-skinned foreigner entered an all-white work environment in America (do those exist anymore? I’m sure they do), speaking broken English and attempting to integrate into projects. People would smile and be cordial and helpful, especially for the first couple of weeks, maybe even take him or her out for a drink after work. But would they ever really connect?
Every woman we drive past on the road has a baby strapped to her. Every last one. Health organizations proclaim ‘family planning is key!’, but telling people it’s a good idea to limit the number of children they have and handing out birth control pills won’t have any effect on a Mozambican man’s idea of family. He needs to prove that he is virile, and can be the head of a family. He wants dozens of little workers for his fields, even if he can’t feed them. So, every woman on the road has a baby strapped to her. Every last one.
I’m learning that it’s not just me who needs to spend weekends in the city, who feels that there’s no real potential for a social or personal life in Morrumbala. It’s all the rural NGO workers. We lead transitive lives. I heard a Mozambican coworker saying the other day that no one longs to build a life in Morrumbala; you have to go where the work takes you. She said if you stay too long in the campo, the city is shocking upon your return. I was intrigued to find out that Mozambicans who have lived here their whole lives feel the same way that I do. In some ways, we’re not that different after all.
3 comments:
I think people can connect, but it takes a lot more than pleasantries. To be honest, most of my co-workers are white middle class like me, and I am not connected to any of them. I feel more connected to Jorge than them.
Thanks for your comment Joel. In general, I agree with you; it is possible to make real connections, and wasn't so difficult in the DR. But race relations are quite different here; colonial wounds are fresher I suppose. I feel like an alien most of the time, and it's exhausting. Some days I have the energy for it, and others I don't, and I think that's ok. It would be even worse for you, what with your size, your sex, and your beardedness. You wouldn't have any friends! Except me, I'd be your friend. :) But in all hoensty, most people would suspect that you were a white South African farmer with imperialist leanings and steer clear of you out of fear.
None of this is to say that I don't get along with my neighbors and colleagues. They're not so apprehensive of small, smiley white women. It's just that there's always a certain carefulness immediately under the surface that I never really sensed in the DR. It's difficult to shake, but once you do, real friendships can be made.
I am glad you would be my friend, I imagine race relations are much different, it wouldn't be the first time I would be judged because of the beard, beardism and beardists still have a foothold in our society. It is time bearded brethen stood together to fight for the right not to shave!
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