Shifting from Fifth Gear to First

I've always had a sick desire to downshift to reverse or first gear while cruising down the highway. Thankfully, part common sense, part weeny has kept me from attempting it. Would you hear a crunch and feel a bump as the transmission dropped out the bottom and you slowed to a stop? Would it be like slamming on the front brakes of your bike, sending you a** over tea kettle, lurching over the handlebars - in other words, would your car do a forwards flip, emitting billows of black smoke at the same time (for the coolness factor, of course).

Well, if this week is any experience, it feels like a really, really bad hangover. No, I didn't downshift from fifth to first, not even in the rental car I had in California. But after back to back red eye flights, ten time zones, and an entire weekend on an airplane, I feel its the most apt description of my current situation.

The analogy works on so many levels.

I was just driving on palm tree lined, six lane wide, smoothly paved highways with intermittent views of the Pacific. Now, I'm riding in old, busted cars on old, busted streets, where 50 mph feels like warp speed - if you have the magical combination of car and road that can achieve it. Even more fitting, riding 10 mph on my 50 pound, single speed, creeky bike because I don't even own an old, busted car.

How about going from the land of time management, efficiency, and a go-go-go pace to, well ... the opposite. From fast food to not much of anything that can be called fast. Do you remember what dial-up internet feels like - yea, that one fits here too. Its not dial-up, but it feels like it a little too often.

This guy is no weeny...

I was curious enough to google what would happen if you did shift from fifth gear to first or reverse. 'A lot of pressure and noise.' Lame. That's not nearly as exciting as a car doing a forward front flip with smoke effects, or dropping the tranmission like a bad habit. Ah well, as it is, a few days of napping and sucking it up - and I feel like a normal person again. Still adjusting to the small things, but at home in Africa once again. I don't think any major body parts fell off in the process, and I have never been talented enough for acrobatics.

Next time though, it may be wise to apply the brakes first.

Bank Mzungu

I met with a pastor for coffee a month back in Lusaka. The topic: business. I helped him flesh out a few ideas to provide skills trainings and services for his church community. After helping him brainstorm, the real reason for our meeting slowly dawned on me. 'How are you going to seek funding?' I asked. 'Well, with your help. You know people, have friends and family back home, right? Can't you mail them asking for money?'

I thought of all the emails I have ever received in the States asking for a bank account number for some get rich quick scam.

'No, I don't really feel comfortable doing that.'


I'm sure liar wasn't too far from his vocabulary at that point.

I tried to explain that charity, especially the handouts he was seeking, aren't sustainable. Even if I was to collect money on his behalf, it would eventually run out. He and his church would be back to square one. A more sustainable, entrepreneurial spirit was needed - micro-finance to secure upfront capital, skills workshops to collect small funds or donations, selling the crafts made at the workshops, taking a small commission on the products sold by those trained to fund the center. As I was talking, I realized how much harder one method sounded than the other. Handout versus hard work. Ease versus the risk of failure. As much as I tried to relay the I was happy to help in any number of ways, I'm afraid I was only able to convince him that I was not going to be a funding source, that I wasn't his Bank Mzungu.

This isn't the first time this has happened to me. Its easy to feel like a walking dollar sign rather than a person in Africa.

These encounters may be microcosms of the larger aid industry. If you are at all interested in the theme, I would highly recommend 'Dead Aid' by Dambisa Moyo. She talks about aid to Africa over the last 50 years, and how it can be viewed as one of the chief mechanisms that has actually held Africa back from development. She is a Zambian, and her point of view is refreshing and insightful, providing a needed counter-argument to the typical Western arguments about the success or failure of foreign aid.

"Since the 1940s, approximately US$1 trillion of aid has been transferred from rich countries to Africa. This is nearly US$1,000 for every man, woman and child on the planet today."

That is A LOT of money. And where has this money gone? Has it reached the people who need it most, to help develop African societies, provide healthcare and education? Not necessarily, and definitely not efficiently.
"Foreign aid props up corrupt governments – providing them with freely usable cash. These corrupt governments interfere with the rule of law, the establishment of transparent civil institutions and the protection of civil liberties, making both domestic and foreign investment in poor countries unattractive. Greater opacity and fewer investments reduce economic growth, which leads to fewer job opportunities and increasing poverty levels. In response to growing poverty, donors give more aid, which continues the downward spiral of poverty."

"In most functioning and healthy economies, the middle class pays taxes in return for government accountability. Foreign aid short-circuits this link. Because the government’s financial dependence on its citizens has been reduced, it owes its people nothing."

Like charity, these handouts are for short term survival with little thought of the long-term. Aid is typically given with some conditions, but rarely ended or taken back if those conditions aren't met. The money continues to flow. Many want to alleviate poverty in the developing world by increasing the flow of aid. Maybe this is the wrong approach.

Winston Churchill is quoted in the book saying, "We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give." I don't want to discourage giving on an individual level. Americans give much more than the majority of Westerners, and much of that money does go to good causes. But is it the best way to help the developing world develop?

"Deep in every liberal sensibility is a profound sense that in a world of moral uncertainty one idea is sacred, one belief cannot be compromised: the rich should help the poor, and the form of this help should be aid."

But...

"There is no incentive for long-term financial planning, no reason to seek alternatives to fund development, when all you have to do is sit back and bank the cheques."

But how to change? For the government, it is almost easier to leave the status quo of a dysfunctional system of aid rather than shake things up. This is a controversial subject, and I don't have the answers. I do know, however, that I don't like being treated as a Bank Mzungu.

Deja Vu

As I sit in Orange County, driving on familiar streets, eating at familiar restaurants, and surrounded by familiar faces, I wonder if the last year really happened. Did I really see the splendid Victoria Falls, or go camping amidst the larger mammalian species on this planet, the ones that have no problem eating you? Were all those visits to rural clinics, and the impressions they continually made on me a fiction? What about the friends I have made in the past year? The potholes I have become intimately acquainted with? The culture? The people? My home?

Sipping a Chai Latte, hearing airplanes cruise overhead and cars drive by, Africa seems a world away. I work in a familiar office, driven by all too familiar goals. All those experiences of afar seem - well, far away. I know they are there, not too deep below the surface. They have been internalized, and shaped my into a slightly different version of the person I was when I was last here.

I am here in Southern California, halfway through a three week stint as a contractor for Boeing. My old boss gave me a call, and was convincing enough to drag me out of Zambia. Is my time in Africa done? Far from it. I go back in a little over a weeks time. My aim is to work part time for both companies, and see if that lifestyle is sustainable. I can have my cake and eat it too, can't I? That luscious cake of convenience, sushi, cheese and ice cream in America, sprinkled with a bit of adventure, challenge and culture in Zambia. I hope it tastes as delicious as it sounds.

Lambo in Lusaka

I had to take a double take cruising down the road the other day. For a moment, I thought I was back in Orange County. A sleek, white, Lamborghini was pulling out of a gated household onto the streets of Lusaka. Yep, that's right, a Lambo. So many thoughts and feelings overwhelmed me that I nearly fell over.

1) Why would you want to drive a Lamborghini in Lusaka? There are probably only 3 roads in the entire city that are safe to drive - the rest are ridden with enormous potholes, in complete disrepair, or have yet to be paved. There are also ginormous speed bumps on the few roads that are paved. In fact, there is one just outside of the gate the Lambo pulled out of - it COULDN'T have driven the other way down the street! I bet the owner even hires a security guard to take with them and watch the car while they are getting milk at the store.

2) The blatant disregard for the surrounding poverty makes me want to hurl. Import duties on cars in Zambia nearly double the cost paid compared to the actual worth. That's right, double the cost of that Lambo - you are talking big bucks. That is, unless there are other, hidden, deals at work... Can you imagine visiting the big city from a village - with hardly enough to feed yourself and your family, struggling to survive, and seeing this slick car that only exists in the movies and Orange County? Surely, its driven by some 'important' politician or businessman showing their 'importance' with the value of their car. Why are they busy showing their 'importance' rather than using it for some more wholesome, helpful purpose?

Prompted by the Lambo siting, I have paid more attention to the cars on the streets of Luska. I have noticed more and more exotic cars: Mercedes, BMWs, Hummers. Is this actually a sign of a growing middle class exercising their newly found purchasing power? Hmm, I think not. I think its a sign of other, more pernicious methods of obtaining wealth. Bummer.

Zambits

Despite the best laid plans to leave Lusaka at 7am sharp Monday morning for a rural site visit in Luangwa, the laws of Zambian physics prevail. Being 'on time' here is relative. Locals refer to now as within the next hour or two. Now now is within the next 15 minutes. A flurry of emails and phone calls are made to ensure our departure promptly at 7am. We leave the office by 7:08, only to find a large screw implanted in our tire within five minutes of departing. One look at the spare causes us to turn around to get an entirely new tire. We leave Lusaka 90 minutes later. Sounds about right.

We depart the clinic after a long days' work. Our of nowhere, a hysterical squawking shreaks from the back of the vehicle. Is the guy in back joking around? Nope, its the village chicken he bought and put in a cardboard box in back complaining about the bumpiness of the road.

A pickup truck flags down our Land Cruiser. I've been spotted, the lone Mzungu in the car. The driver rolls down the window and invites me to dinner. He and his wife are thrilled to share a meal with a fellow American after a bit of time in the bush. Dinner with the Texan couple is lovely: hamburgers, fried potatoes, and homemade vanilla ice cream.

Stranded. The only gas station in the rural town of Luangwa has run out of petrol. All the local utilities and enterprising individuals in town who store their own fuel for such occasions are tapped dry. The NGO I've come with sends a vehicle with spare fuel from Lusaka, five hours away. That car breaks down 3 hours into its journey. The NGO sends another car to fix the broken down car for the first car to continue on its mission to provide us with fuel.

Time to read the local paper. A sample of today's headlines from the 'Post':

"Mututwa asks govt to tell him what wrong he did" - A 92 year old accused of treason 'thanked the government for releasing him without explaining to him what wrong he committed.'

"Failures shouldn't seek re-election" - A pastoral coordinator complains at the lack of attendance of government officials at a church celebration.

"Rupiah's govt wants Mumba out of ECZ" - The President is trying to remove a justice from the Electoral Commission and replace her with someone more favorable to his government ahead of the upcoming elections.

"Use of live ammunition is unacceptable" - condemnation of the Zambian police force's use of live ammunition on citizens.

"Four to hang for murder" - four of six accused of murder are sentenced to death by hanging. They murdered someone from stealing $10.

"Electoral Code still source of mistrust" - 'the code in its current state is a source of conflict, mistrust and an erosion of public confidence in the electoral process.'

"Copperbelt cops hold man over human trafficking"

"Govt to employ over 200,000 teachers in next 10 years" - to fill the current shortfall. 80,000 teachers are currently employed in all of Zambia.

"Zambians housing deficit in billions of dollars"

"Obama faces budget battle after speech"

"Cholera causing more deaths, experts urge vaccination"