development

Teach a man to fish…

March 2, 2011 By Jillian

Sitting comfortably at home after traveling in the developing world for so long has certainly had benefits. The first few weeks I marveled at the softness of the toilet paper, the variety of products available in the stores and the ability to open the fridge to find it fully stocked. After being gone for so long these were things I really appreciated and unlike what so many people expected, I slipped back into this comfortable life without a problem. Reading emails from a friend who’s traveling in Asia as she describes the trough toilets and pit latrines I laugh with the knowledge of having been there and done that, having survived the worst bathrooms in the world.
Reflecting a bit about our trip, beyond the bathrooms and funny signs, I’ve begun to seriously ponder the impact of all that travel. Not our environmental impact, which we consciously tried to lessen, but our social impact. I’ve spent what seems like hours pondering and theorizing on what more we could and should do as a travel community. Is just traveling enough?

Speaking with other travelers, it’s clear I’m not the only one considering the larger impact of the travel community. Many of us travel because we love the people, the cultural interactions and the awareness of something new. We love teaching, learning and sharing. We love the places, we love the things and most of all we love the experience. Some people volunteer on their trip, others move through wanting to do something, but not knowing what to do. Others know what to do, but can’t find a way to make their efforts part of something larger. It is as though we need to take a page out of the outdoor community book and create our own “leave no trace” philosophy. Maybe we should call it “leave a trace.”

While traveling throughout the developing world, we were shocked to see the negative impact of aid organizations. We were disgusted hear about volunteers paying several thousand USD to volunteer for ineffective—and sometimes morally unethical—organizations. We were horrified to discover how much money had done so little and in response we wrote a series of posts, called Hunger Porn to call attention and raise awareness to what we saw. We were that third category of travelers above, we knew what to do, did it in our own way, but didn’t know how to make it a part of something greater.

Travelers are probably some of the most well positioned people in this world to increase awareness, raise interest and tell the everyday stories, triumphs and failures of these people and organizations. Beyond writing a single blog post how else can we connect not just ourselves but our network to these people in support of tackling some of the world’s biggest problems?

I’m not saying each and every blogger needs to take on an issue and save the world. I’m saying that perhaps we need to think beyond ourselves and use our travels to support, connect and engage. Let’s use our skills and our experiences on a larger scale, to support organizations we respect.

My proposal is simple. As you plan your next itinerary, make a plan for action. Find an organization you respect that operates in the places you are going. Offer your skills, think of a way you can be of assistance and contact them. Sure a day of volunteering can be rewarding, but what about teaching them to make a video for their next fundraising effort? What about taking pictures for them and developing them into a slide show? What about capturing and recording their member’s stories and instructing them on developing a blog. Do something that will help them not just for a day, but for a lifetime.

Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime.

Stop Hunger Porn #2: Engage and Help

May 27, 2010 By Danny

Yesterday I vented my frustration at the state of the aid business. It is easy for me to point fingers and note that many of the places in Africa that have been receiving aid dollars have been doing so for over 40 years; with little to nothing to show for it in the form of positive change. Western nations (and now Eastern, China is quite active in the undeveloped and developing worlds) have their own agenda’s to support…and who can blame them…democratic governments stay in power by keeping their voting citizens rich and happy.

So how do we fix the problem? There are a few ways that I really believe a person can make a difference from far away.

The most obvious, with Haiti in the nightly news is disaster assistance. When things go terribly wrong it IS important to offer aid, with an end in sight, so as to help a country or a people through a tough time. I don’t know what the situation is like in Haiti but the fact is that it is far more helpful to Haiti to have Haitians do the helping, where and when they can, than to have the US Army doing it all. This is one realm that the US will not be accused of lacking an ‘exit strategy.’

The second is education. Many of these poor countries suffer from a combination of poor education systems and brain drain, where those who are smart and well off enough to get an education leave the country for better jobs abroad. Supporting ‘in-country’ education is the only way to stop these problems and help a people grow internally, with their own—native—lawyers and lawmakers to lead the country to prosperity, making things right for business instead of right for corruption. This can only come from education and if the first teachers are Western, this should only be temporary until local teachers can take up the charge.

The third is business. If you have $100 you want to throw at Africa to help, do it as a business rather than a donor. People don’t work for donations but they do work for $$ and we’ve seen the pride people have when they work for themselves to lift themselves up and out of poverty…nothing beats it. Tourism is great, I’m clearly biased naturally, but it pumps money directly into a community and allows people to work for that income. The man with whom we booked our Tanzanian safari, Peter, started as a porter on Mt. Kilimanjaro, working his way up through cooking and assisting to eventually guiding and running his own business. He was proud, he was working hard, and it was a pleasure to do business with him. His is the kind of story that changes these poor countries for the better, not the presence of UNICEF camps and USAID food.

So if you don’t have your own business to run, we have a solution for you….help a local get themselves started in business. We’ve recently set up the ISHOULDLOGOFF.com group on Kiva.org. If you don’t know what Kiva is, you’re welcome to read up on it but it basically connects people in the West with a few dollars to spare with people in the undeveloped world who need those dollars, and you make a loan directly to them…. Yes, I said a loan. This is called micro-finance and, in my opinion will do more to help the undeveloped world than any amount of hunger porn on CNN will ever do…..

Stop Hunger Porn #1: Stop Donating

May 26, 2010 By Danny

Recently, somewhere in America, a politician was forced to backtrack from comments he made comparing people on welfare to wild animals. The problem, he said, was that if you feed them, they would breed. Although his comments were crass, there was an underlying message that he failed to pass on when uttered that awful metaphor…handouts create dependence, dependence is bad.

We have been to some of the poorest countries in the entire world on this trip: Guatemala, Bolivia, and of course the ‘South Park’ favorite of Ethiopia. Throughout these countries we’ve seen, in living color, the people who sometimes grace your televisions in “hunger porn” commercials where some international aid agency is trying to get you to send money to support a child or a community.

When food and money enter a community from a foreign source, it can take away the people’s need to work and support themselves and places that ability in the hands of The West. We have seen people so dependent (not everyone, but many nonetheless) on this aid that they no longer work, find food themselves, or otherwise put ‘effort’ into life.

There are countless stories of how “sponsor a child” programs have destroyed communities because one child is chosen for new books and not another. We’ve seen many children kept out of school so that they can beg, as this is more profitable in the short term. Giving out sweets is a problem because if it is done by many people, eventually the child recipient might have no teeth since we’re not giving out toothpaste as well. School supplies are probably the best option, so long as they are given to a school or community to be distributed equitably to all rather than used to stock an individual’s hoard. In one town we visited the known scam for children was to ask foreigners to buy them a book directly from the shop, once the tourist left the child simply returns the book for cash.

If I sound like I’m standing on a soapbox, it’s because I feel a need to vent. Throughout Africa we’ve been witness to UNICEF camps, OXFAM caravans, and USAID food vats. We’ve watched as aid workers come to Africa, drive around in 4×4’s, and leave the place no better than they found it…staying only at the fanciest hotels in town or in a specialized camp with more security than Baghdad’s Green Zone. And if you think at least USAID food aid serves to help feed people, you’d be surprised that the people it helps most is the American farmer. The US Government buys this food, from our farmers to support them, pays to ship it over seas, gives it away for free, all for it to be bought and sold on the local market at market prices. Generally we see USAID food in shops and stores available for sale.

The next time you see hunger porn on the television remember that the business of aid is just that, a business. The goal is certainly altruistic, don’t get me wrong, but the practice can be anything but. There is a right way to help and a wrong way to help. One friend of ours shared a story of how she was told by one of these officials that, with luck, this organization would have enough funding to be involved in Africa indefinitely. This official was then surprised at the response of shock and dismay she received when the group she was addressing pointed out that if the goal is to supply handouts indefinitely then clearly the organization wasn’t helping anyone but themselves….

This is part one of a two part post. I don’t believe that these problems are without solutions and that we, as “rich” people cannot help in someway; but I do believe there is a right way and a wrong way. Give a man a fish and he eats for a day, teach a man to fish and he eats for life.

Victoria Falls…sort of

March 9, 2010 By Jillian

It was hot and humid as we stepped off the bus in Victoria Falls, but that didn’t stop the hawkers from approaching us. Waving thousands, millions, billions and trillions of dollars in our faces, these guys would stop at nothing to make us rich. Finally we relented and for 4 USD we became trillionaires…in a currency that isn’t legal anymore.

While the effects of hyper inflation will be felt in Zimbabwe for years to come, entrepreneurs around the country are cashing in on their worthless paper currency. Printed by the reserve bank in denominations up to 100 trillion Zimbabwe dollars, we as well as many other tourists, were happy to snap up a few bills as souvenirsBecoming a trillionaire was easier than playing the lotto, and every time we stepped out of our hostel we were besought by hawkers trying to make us rich. We were followed, tracked and stalked through town by men trying to make an actual USD or two.. Asking about coins, Danny arranged to meet a young man the next morning at 6am. Sure enough the teen “organized” some old Zimbabwe coins for Danny and stood outside waiting for us at 6 a.m.

Having secured our fortune, we made our way to the falls, which unfortunately were completely covered in their own mist. From what we could see they were beautiful, but unable to whitewater kayak the Zambezi we saw the falls and decided to move on. Waiting at the combi rank for the mini-bus to fill up for the return trip to Bulawayo, the driver yelled at us to get in quickly. As he sped away into the woods, away from the main road, alarms went off in my head. We’re getting away from the police he said, which didn’t exactly quell my fears. Crashing through the bush along what can only be described as a dirt bicycle path the combi popped out into a clearing in front of some small huts. “The police are bad, they just want money,” the driver said. “They want my license, my registration, my passenger list, my defense card,” he continued listing four or five other government forms before turning onto a real street. Breathing a sigh of relief, we made our way back to the combi rank and quickly filled with passengers. Everyone it seemed was interested in the foreigners on the combi, especially when they found out we were American. “Obama!” people said to us, a phrase which we hear almost every time we tell people where we are from. “American, you buy me an 18 wheel truck,” one overweight guy wearing a Durban Sharks jersey told us. “I will pay for two weeks in Victoria Falls if you give me a truck,” he offered with a hopeful smile and a belly full of laughter. “Sure,” we said. “When we win the lottery.” He laughed shook our hand and walked towards a crowd of women yelling “Bulwayo, Wange, Bulwayo.”

It’s always good rtravel karma to share food with people on the bus or combi, especially with the driver or his helper. Passing around a loaf of cinnamon bread, we chatted with the driver about his family, the hyper inflation and “life on the road.” Swearing under his breath, the driver pulled the combi over just as we sputtered to a stop. Watching the driver and the helper tinker with the engine, it was clear neither had much car repair experience. Although I didn’t understand what they said in their native language, the body language said it all. “Hmm…yea looks like the engine is stopped,” said one. “Yup, yup, definitely stopped,” said the other. “Maybe if I pull out this wire….” well you see how it went. From the back of the combi climbed a man in dress pants and a button down shirt who claimed to have mechanical experience. Offering up our swiss army knife, which is used more to open bottles than to repair anything, Danny supervised the car repairs from the drivers seat and before we knew it we were back on our way. At least for the moment.

A few kilometers outside Bulwayo we were stopped for probably our 5th or 6th police checkpoint. Immediately we knew we were in for problems. “No front plate,” he said. “Show me your wipers, show me your lights, show me your blinkers,” he barked at the driver. “How many passengers?” his interrogation continued. “No front plate. No front plate.” A lady in the back of the combi leaned out and yelled at him. What she said I don’t know, but she had that angry “you are messing with the wrong woman” sassiness about her. Head moving side to side and finger pointing, she continued to argue with the officer. “What did you say? You are obstructing police work. Out of the vehicle,” the cop said. Climbing out of the car in an angry rage, the woman continued to argue with the officer. “What is she saying?” I asked the person behind me. “She’s accusing him of looking for a bribe,” said someone from the back. Across Africa we’ve been warned of police officers looking for bribes at these “checkpoints”, so his answer didn’t surprise me in the least. Settling in to wait for the confrontation to be resolved I cracked open a peanut and passed the bag to Danny. Offering peanuts to the rest of the combi, Danny turned around with the bag. “I never say no to US-Aid,” shouted one guy, laughing as he reached for the nuts. The entire combi broke out in laughter, everyone chuckling as they cracked open their nuts. US-AID handed out, and justice handed down to the woman (in an unfortunate sentence of 20USD and 3 hours in a holding cell) we continued on to Bulawayo.

In the span of 24 hours we became trillionaires, viewed Victoria Falls, evaded the police, got some decent use out of our swiss army knife, and handed out U.S. Food aid. Thats what I call a successful 24 hours on the road.

Foodie Friday: Dining in Lesotho

February 5, 2010 By Jillian

While staying at Malealea Lodge in Lesotho we were rather well equipped to provide for ourselves, or ‘self-cater’ as its referred to here, each night. We had just enough food between the four of us (ourselves and two others we managed to squeeze into our little car) to last us our entire stay with the exception of dinner one night. Dinner at the lodge didn’t look too bad actually, but something else appealed to us a bit more. A traditional Basotho meal served at the home of one of the villagers.

On account of the rains our host Teboho arrived to pick us up at the lodge early. We wrapped up what we were doing and scurried with him out of the lodge and to his father’s home. The house was a one room, 10′ x 20′ block consisting of a few chairs, a cabinet/closet that looked like something from Ikea, some other shelves, and a double bed. We each took a seat as Teboho ran out of the house to the kitchen to bring us our meals.

While he was gone, his 74 year old father joined us and began to tell us about his life. He was proud of his only son (who was lucky enough to have 4 sisters) who started this business and that they often hosted people 2-3 times a week. His people didn’t use cow skin as blankets any more because the first white men who came (French missionaries) brought blankets that were so warm and so soft and so fuzzy that his people decided to use those instead. He taught me that when the beer or wine (we’d brought a bottle of red) was running low it was tradition in Lesotho to pour the elderly first and congratulated me on learning the tradition so quickly.

The meal itself was simple; a small piece of chicken, an unknown green vegetable, and mealy pap. Pap is basically a brick of corn meal that, well, tastes like a brick of corn meal. Although pap figures on the favorite food list of no one I’ve ever met, the vegetable and chicken were both seasoned rather nicely and left us all quite pleased. When our friend asked what the vegetable was, and we had a hard time understanding the word ‘spinach’ through the thick accents, we understood the word ‘popeye’ once Nicopane put his arm up and flexed his bicep for us.

Signing the guest book by weak lamp-light we knew we’d been apart of something special. Sure, this was a business venture by the young Basotho but it was unique. It was a venture that started with the help of a a Peace Corps volunteer over a year ago whose time in the Corps ended the day after Teboho hosted his first dinner guest. It is little bits of gold like this that make us most proud to be Americans.

Teach a man to fish…

Stop Hunger Porn #2: Engage and Help

Stop Hunger Porn #1: Stop Donating

Victoria Falls…sort of

Foodie Friday: Dining in Lesotho

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