Dr. Reik Machar, Vice-President of Southern Sudan
It’s usually hot: real hot…so hot every pore in your body screams for a mercy killing. But maybe that is just Monte. Some people may find working in a sauna appealing.
Unless you are in Cape Town or some resort in Nairobi or Kampala, things don’t work all that well. Light switches only mean there was once electricity. The menu you are ordering from is only a list of items that sometimes can be prepared…but not for you…not today. The auto you rented will probably break down. (I lucked out last year when it did so as I was driving off of the rental lot.)
If you are a fan of the UN or World Bank or International Monetary Fund…get ready to be disillusioned.
Prepare to wait…and wait. Bring your iPod and plenty of books to read. The pace here is slow. People may wear watches but it’s just for show. “9 o’clock Monday morning” means “sometime today.” Maybe.
Planning and strategizing is something else you can do when you are waiting…as long as you realize that such activity should be seen as, primarily, a mental exercise that has little or no bearing on reality. You must always keep The Goal in view, being prepared at any moment to change your plans, revise your strategy, rethink your tactics. Nothing ever goes as planned here.
Many of the people you meet will see you as a mark. They have a product to sell you: their poverty. They all have stories, all are suffering, and only you can help them…with cash…and the dollars need to have been printed after 2000. Given so many Westerners will instantly respond with a fist full of dollars, you can’t blame them for trying. But the problem is that such misguided generosity often exacerbates their problems, it does not alleviate them. And after a while your battle is not only to be more discerning in your charity, it is also a battle against your own sense of creeping cynicism.
Try as you might—and you should never give up—you will never understand the African culture. Be humble. Keep apologies at the ready. Listen to your African friends. If they say something is a social faux pas, it is usually a good idea to avoid it. If they say to not give money to someone you were about to give to, you probably shouldn’t. If they say, “Don’t go there, it isn’t safe, or right, or acceptable,” then don’t go there. One of my best friends is Derek Hammond. He has lived in Africa all his life. If Derek says Don’t Do That, Monte doesn’t Do That. If, going into Sudan, Derek says, This is How It Works, Monte does not improvise. (I know, this is totally out of character for me, but, hey, I like breathing, and I hate getting sick, so Derek’s words carry a lot of weight.) If you want to be successful in Africa—or any other foreign culture—find yourself a Derek. It saves a lot of heartache, a lot of wasted energy, and a lot of unnecessary trips to the toilet (literally and figuratively).
Prepare to meet some aspects of your personality you hadn’t met before. Being thousands of miles away from home and under some peculiarly stressful situations usually brings out the best and the worst of us. When the “worst” shows up, don’t hide behind excuses such as, “That isn’t me, “ or “I am just tired.” It was you. You did it, you said it: own it, deal with it, and move on.
Don’t sit around waiting for an opportunity to do something great, grand and glorious. Find something good to do and get at it. All you can do is what you can do: God decides the ultimate outcome. (Am I deep or what!) And remember, if you are going to accomplish any good at all you are going to get dirty and you are going to make mistakes. If you aren’t getting dirty and you aren’t making mistakes you aren’t doing any good.
None of this is to suggest you should forget about going to Africa and take your free time and discretionary income and go sip wine in Napa Valley. It is only to remind you that doing good work anywhere—especially in Africa—is rarely fun. It is messy, difficult, hard work that comes with a price.
You either hate Africa or fall in love with it. My first trip to Africa was in the late 80’s where I almost instantly developed a love-hate relationship with it. I love the people, love its exotic beauty, love the infinite possibilities for doing good. I hate the heat, hate the emotional toll that disease, poverty and war takes on me, and I hate what five-decades of the no-strings-attached charity from Donor Nations has done to the African. I also hate that I do not go there more often, and hate that I don’t even do more work there.
copyright Monte E Wilson, 2007
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