As promised (if a bit later than expected, due to sheer laziness)- I am writing one last post from home to wrap up my experience in Uganda.
[Disclaimer: If you're not interested in the 17 pages of me sounding a bit holier-than-thou, then skip down to "Sorry this is becoming a novel..."]
During my last week in Uganda, while saying all my goodbyes and packing all my now-very-dirty clothes, I spent a lot of time thinking about gift-giving. As white people in Uganda, my co-volunteers and I were always assumed to have endless amounts of money - money, presumably, that we wanted to and were able to give away. The stereotype is logical enough; most westerners who come to the country are fairly well off (a flight halfway around the world is no free ticket), and many do in fact come to do some type of work that helps others - whether it's volunteer teaching, working for an NGO, helping out in a clinic, etc. So excited shouts of "hi mzungu!" while we walked by weren't always merely innocent and friendly gestures - often there was a plea for money, sweets, gifts, and so on implied underneath. In other words, people were excited to see us not only because we looked strange - and to many, incredibly beautiful [go to Uganda for an ego boost!]- but also because we potentially had something to give them.
This bothered me. I hated the idea that some of the kids at the school might appreciate my presence there only because I could maybe bring them money, notebooks, or new clothes. I understood it - new flip flops are a real treat if you only have one pair of old black flats that are tearing. And if you're running out of space in your notebooks, surely the white American will make sure you have new ones so your education doesn't suffer. Why not? But as much as I understood the feeling, and understood the stereotype, and felt for all of the students, it hurt me a bit to wonder if some only wanted to get close to me in order to secure some future financial aid.
The racial component irritated me as well. It wasn't that I was American, really, that so fascinated nearly everyone in Uganda. It was that I was white, mzungu. Race is something innate, unchanging (unless you get super miraculously tan), and so mudugovs (black people) can never, by definition, become mzungus. And if all mzungus are understood to be wealthy, successful, and privileged, benefactors and helpers, and if you need to be mzungu to become these things, then it follows that mudugovs, in their minds, must forever be poor, low-level workers, and perpetually "in need" of aid. Of course, this is complete bollocks. (Never used that phrase before, don't know why I feel compelled to use it now.) But not everyone there knows that. It's like the best kept secret over in Uganda that black people can be just as successful as whites, that skin color is actually only a color. Case in point: I was watching an episode of the Wire with one of my students, and pointing out all of the characters and their roles to him. Quite puzzled and somewhat pleasantly surprised, he pointed to the stern black boss and then to the idiot white employee and remarked: "The mudugov is in charge of the muzungu." As if this is something that only happens in a completely alien planet. To many Ugandans, it is.
And so, back to my point. I felt uncomfortable picking certain students and leaving them goodies I could easily leave them for several reasons: 1) I did not want to favor anyone. How do I go about choosing one student over the next? How do I know who could really use new shoes, who really needs pencils, or who might benefit most from me helping them out with school fees? I did get closer to some students than to others, but still, I didn't feel that this justified singling some out for special treatment - even if the gifts were well intended and beneficial. Then when the next volunteer comes, will the students race to see who can build the strongest relationship with her, fast, so that she'll leave that one her dress when she leaves? No - in my ideal world, relationships between volunteers and students should not be based on an implied promise of gifts, but instead on emotional support, exciting classroom activities, a cultural give-and-take, good conversations, lots of fun times. And I also did not feel comfortable giving gifts that way because 2) I did not want to contribute to this irritating, race-based sentiment that white people exist to help black people and black people are there to be helped. (If only one of us privileged American volunteers were black - that would be a really handy fix to all of this, an easy way to say "Look! Black people can also own pretty dresses and ipod's!" But all of us were pale and pasty. Shame.)
After talking with Segawa and Job (headmaster and treasurer of the school) and other volunteers, these are the conclusions I came to:
-Firstly, instead of giving to individual students, it was important for me to give my donations to the school administration. I left it up to them to distribute the funds to the causes they saw fit - whether that be to individual students' notebooks, to a few new chalkboards, or to beans to feed the kids for the next week or so at school. The school staff knew, more than me, which students needed what the most - which kids could really use some help paying their fees, and which kids might instead need some new medication. By letting the administration distribute the donation, I didn't feel like I was singling out certain students for special attention, and hopefully didn't leave others feeling like they were somehow lacking, less loved, or inferior.
-Secondly, I want to give gifts while still empowering those I'm giving to, and without de-empowering them (antonym of empower? anyone?). However well-intentioned I am, I do not want to enforce the idea that only I can give and that these students can only receive. For instance, donating money to buy bricks and then working with the kids to help build necessary additions to their school could be a useful project**: the students would acquire manual labor skills while practicing teamwork, and more than that, they'd be literally building spaces (classrooms) where they could learn and grow into curious, responsible, and self-sufficient young adults. In this way, a mzungu volunteer- or someone else who wants to help - could use their time, energy, and money to enable students to help themselves.
**(The kids already do help build their school, but I bring this example simply to show that donations to expand this type of activity could go a long way.)
It is also, I realized, incredibly empowering to know not only that you are able to help yourself, but also that you are able to help others. If I ever return to this school, then, or volunteer at another one like it, I'd consider maybe helping to establish some type of ongoing community service project with the students. Maybe the high-schoolers could visit the primary school once a week, for instance, and tutor younger students in subjects they feel they know especially well. Ideally, by realizing how much they're able to impact others, the older students would become that much more confident in their own ability to achieve.
Enough preaching though. Was just trying to turn some of my annoyance at all these gift-giving issues into productive, somewhat idealistic thinking. Of course, though, every case is different, and every volunteer is different. Sometimes it just feels right to give someone you've come to love a really special t-shirt - and I don't think anyone will judge you for that. I guess I've just come to learn that before I give, I should stop and think, and that not all gifts are always beneficial in the long run.
Sorry this is becoming a novel - but before I close, I wanted to leave you with some entertaining insight into Ugandan culture. All signs in Uganda are in English, but their English is a bit different than ours. As such, their names for shops, salons, hostels, etc. are sometimes worth remembering. Here are some that stuck in my mind:
-"Jesus Loves You Salon." (Because Jesus obviously appreciates a good haircut. Have you seen his long, luscious 'do lately??)
-"Occasional Cakes." (I wouldn't recommend going here often, but occasionally you might find good food. Great advertising right there. And I knoww this could be the other kind of occasional. But whateva.)
-"Desire Girls Hostel." (This one doesn't leave much to the imagination.)
So that's about all, folks. Life back in Boston is treating me well. Though I've never really noticed before just how mzungu this city is! At least in parts. I gasp in disbelief each time I see a black person. For such a "liberal" city, it's incredibly segregated.
I hope someday to go back to Uganda and teach at Extreme College, though I don't know when that will happen. In the meantime, I'll just have to keep in touch with my students who can occasionally access facebook and know how to operate it, and reminisce about incredibly unsafe boda-boda rides, "toilets" that are really holes in the ground, and people that are always sweeter, more humble, and less obnoxious than Americans.
Mwebele (thank you) for reading this blog, and tulabanedda (see you later)!!
