notes on development

I believe that approaches to development are changing constantly. As an agent of healthcare development in Africa, if I don’t consistently assess and alter my personal approach at the extreme rural level, how can I expect to effectively participate in that development as a whole? I tend to yo-yo between the belief that all foreign aid should pull out of Africa as soon as possible, and the belief that there is hope in a system of foreign aid that actually helps those who need it most. But hope can only come from consistent dialogue amongst outside agents of development as well as host country nationals.

Among the PC volunteer community, there is a constant running dialogue surrounding whether or not any of us should really be here, and if we are actually doing more harm than good. We share our idealistic solutions to anyone that will listen, as well as our growing list of frustrations regarding living in the middle of the African bush without money or resources for the work we are expected to do; but we would be kidding ourselves if we thought we were the only foreign aid workers in the country who have these conversations.

I attended a development panel last week that opened up such a dialogue between the Peace Corps, NGOs, and the US Embassy in Zambia. It was held at the one of the higher-up Embassy officer’s home in Lusaka. (Light snacks and wine were served…they haven’t learned yet to keep Peace Corps volunteers away from free-flowing drinks…). Although we took time to appreciate good old-fashioned chips and salsa (even salsa con queso!), our main focus was kept on the questions put forth to us by American aid workers outside of Peace Corps (identified by their slick-backed hair, suits, and lack of flip-flops). We talked for a couple hours, although it felt like mere minutes, about issues such as handing out large sums of money to rural villagers, the entrepreneurial spirit (or lack-there-of, according to the US embassy) of Zambians, Zambian politics and its role in aid, and how we can keep hope in what all too often seems to be a hopeless situation regarding development in this country. There was a panel made up of 2 American employees of NGOs in Lusaka, 1 employee of the US Embassy, and 3 Peace Corps Volunteers (representing the education, health, and agriculture projects). Although at times the discussion turned to debate and became a bit heated, what was most significant about the panel discussion was its ability to help us realize the tremendous importance of what we have to teach each other. Although sometimes we hate to admit it, as rurally-placed volunteers we have a lot to learn from those focused on the big picture of development in Zambia. And even those dressed in suit and tie, living in fancy gated homes made to separate Africa from their small American haven, have something to learn from the liberal, tanned and dirty Peace Corps volunteers who spend two years trying to blend into a rural community in the bush, whose job it is to focus on the small picture, the ‘roots’ of grassroots development. If we can learn to listen to one another and open up our discussions and conversations to another point of view, development in this country can only stand to gain. However, there is one party missing from this equation, a group of the utmost importance, without which there would be no equation in the first place. This group consists of Zambians themselves.

One comment made by an NGO worker at the panel rang especially true; that we cannot afford to forget that we are guests in this country. We are welcomed with open arms, complete with a plethora of greetings and handshakes, into Zambia. Zambians desire to show us their culture, the way they live, their beliefs and values, their lives in such a way that allows us to call this land-locked country in sub-saharan Africa that so easily gets lost in the shuffle our home for as long as we choose to stay. Ultimately, no matter what projects we work on, how strong the relationships we form with host country nationals, or how long we talk around the point of development in Zambia, none of us need to be here; from the volunteer carrying water to her hut everyday to the US Embassy worker in charge of dispensing small-scale grants to community schools to the Director of World Vision. Ultimately we should all be constantly working ourselves out of our jobs here. Zambia is developing from the hard work of Zambians, not foreigners. We have to recognize that we are here to aid with that development, not to do it ourselves. I feel like a broken record when I say that development in this country can only come from Zambians themselves; but surely this seemingly simple concept has defined my service and life here for the past two years.

Maybe it’s the tiny hippie hidden somewhere inside me, but I tend to get a bad taste in my mouth when seeing foreign aid workers driving around fancy land cruisers with USAID (United Stated Agency for International Development) emblazoned on the side. I know part of this bitterness comes from seeing them pass by me as I’m stuck hitch-hiking on the side of the road (dude, my tax dollars help pay for that vehicle!), but mostly I tend to think they are missing what’s right in front of them; the projects they fund and work they do doesn’t trickle down to those at the very rural level who need it most. I’m angry at them for not seeing what slaps me in the face every morning that I wake up in my village. But when I get caught up in this anger and bitterness I only forget that they may have the same frustrations with me. I am only focused on development at the smallest of scales, and I don’t see all that goes into efforts to dispense developmental initiatives across an entire country. I don’t see successes and failures on a national level. I don’t have a degree in foreign affairs or international development. I only have my experiences of the past two years, experiences that have never failed to spark my curiosity in the big picture. After discussing/debating development efforts with those with the fancy suits, many pc volunteers feel even more put off by those at the top. As for me, I find myself more intrigued. There is so much more to learn, and unless you are willing to keep your mouth shut long enough to hear another point of view you’ll find yourself stuck in a self-satisfied world in which it’s easy to feel a bit too comfortable. It doesn’t help to criticize a system over and over again. We need to learn to understand that system, its failures and successes, and work within it ourselves in order to change it. I could see myself possibly working internationally in the future, at what capacity I’m not sure. But my interest has definitely been sparked.

The group I came to Zambia with almost 2 years ago had our COS (close of service) Conference in Lusaka last week. There were 52 of us at the beginning, and now we are 45. 15 people in my group have chosen to extend their service for a third year, most continuing their work with different NGOs in Lusaka. In order to celebrate the near-end to our time in Zambia, Peace Corps put us up in a fancy lodge for 2 nights about an hour outside of Lusaka. During the day we had sessions on the logistics of finishing up our service as well as moving on with life after Peace Corps. But the best part of the conference was hanging out with 44 other people who all seem to be in about the same place mentally and emotionally as I do right now, 44 other people who have been living here for the same amount of time as I have. At this point, in the thick of rainy season, most all of us have finished with our projects and are ready to move on to what is next. Of course there is that bittersweet feeling that always accompanies ending an incredible yet, at times, extremely frustrating experience that can’t help but change you. I booked my flight home, and should be arriving in Minneapolis (I pray it’s not too cold) on April 24th. Although I feel more confused now more than when I came regarding exactly what it is I want to do next, I feel at peace with the fact that I’ll figure it out. I know what makes me happy, and I’ve learned to find comfort in the little things. It’s time to leave Zambia behind me, knowing that what I learned here I will carry with me for the rest of my life. And that’s all I know for sure. As so succinctly put by Tom Petty:

It’s time to move on. It’s time to get going.
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing.
Under my feet the grass is growing.
It’s time to move on. It’s time to get going.

katie