Why I Don't Want to Be an Aid Worker

I'll stick to this kind of aid, methinks.

I was walking home today from Woodlands, the neighborhood convenient store, thinking about a lot on my mind. The big thing that has been so incredible to realize on this trip, for me, has been the fact that I think I don't actually want to do the thing that I thought I wanted to do in life, anymore.

I don't want to be an aid worker.

I don't know...maybe that will change in time someday. Maybe one day further into life I'll wake up and realize that is actually what would serve my highest good. But for now (and I am pretty sure for a good amount of future) aid work is not on my list of things to do anymore. It's funny, how it was kind of this pie in the sky dream for me for a long time, and I had fantasies of living the life of an aid worker overseas, saving children from burning bushes and wiping the brows of survivors of conflicts, and getting gold-dipped pictures of me in the bush smiling with a sage-like sense of peace and compassion on my face. With adoring locals surrounding me like I'm Jesus giving the Sermon on the Mount. You know the pictures - we've all seen the do-gooder images plastered all over the place.



Anyways, my older friends warned me that it wasn't really the case, but I didn't listen. I now look back at their words of wisdom realizing, yeah, it really is nothing like that. I mean, sure, there are days when I feel like I can stand back and see my good deeds flourishing. Though I'm technically not an aid worker right now, I'm a teacher (teaching math no less....and teaching I do love), I still am in the same line of work as aid workers.

But anyways, here are some of my realizations why it's not my thing, though some of it is more like a re-cap of previous blog entries. I know that a lot of these are my own opinion, and they're not golden truths. But based on what I've observed in the last few years, these have been my general conclusions about it all. Give or take a few opinions. And I'm sure you're likely to disagree with some of them, but that's fine.

• I am a person who likes to observe, and be able to have quiet times of reflection, walking around by myself, more or less left alone by others unless I want attention. I like to think while I walk (and I love to walk), and I feel that a lot of my best thoughts when I'm able to feel safe and unnoticed, outside. However, as an expat doing aid work (or whatever), that's never going to happen. I will never be able to be fully alone, especially outside. I'm always going to be a novelty; people stare and gawk at me like I am some porcelain doll come to life, shiny gloss and all. Even tonight, while I walked alone to the store, I ended up getting followed and approached by men and women who wanted jobs or money or English lessons from me. I just wanted to think, but I wasn't given that opportunity because, as I've said, I glow in the dark.
  
• Aid workers live in often one of two extremes: you either live like absolute royalty (crown included) with servants and luxury housing, or you live in a mud hut with a hot in the ground and eat boiled rice all day. I've lived some kind of general similar extremes here in Kigali, and I frankly don't enjoy either option. The poorer option makes me feel like I never get clean (which I believe can actually spur insanity) and it's sad and you are less safe. The richer option makes me feel like I'm more important that I really am, and not in a positive inspirational way. It's a faux riche thing that drives me nuts. I like living in something in the middle - a decent place that is clean with a fridge.
  
• The expat community is not my kind of community. I mean, sure, we can talk in depth about the violations of human rights in the Eastern Province and compare it to the tutoring issues over in China. Or maybe even discuss innovative methods to improve nutrition and how to replicate it throughout Sub-Saharan Africa. But to be honest, expat communities drink a lot. The things to do around town are in bars, and people love to drink. Maybe it's to wash away the tragedies and sadness encountered while in the field, but it seems like there are few other things expats enjoy doing. And I have never been of the Greek Life persuasion, ever, at all. And so it's difficult for me to meet people or make friends partially, because I'm considered perhaps dull or purist - I am scorned at a bit, with the wrinkled faces and everything. I do have a few friends here who are similar to me, and they stay home too.
  
• But a lot of people, from my understanding, who do not partake in the drinking festivities are missionaries. And where I am (as well as a whole lot of Africa) is heavily, deeply Christian. I'm not Christian. I tell people here I'm Buddhist, because that's the safest word I can use for the practices I maintain and the beliefs I hold (and even that is taken with a raise eyebrow and a step back...and sometimes a talk about the Church), but I'm not really Buddhist. In fact, I'm so fringe in my spiritual beliefs that I don't feel comfortable talking about them with almost anyone here, at all. And I've realized here that the spiritual part of my life is actually a very important part of me. It's been difficult for me to feel fully comfortable because I don't feel like it's alright to practice and do my thing, or find others like me. In India, it was more accepted, and I feel spiritually it's more diverse and accepting, but even so I would get a few snickers about what I was talking about. I wouldn't go ask anyone in most developing countries if they wanted Reiki.
  
• The money is not here. I have heard other people gripe about how development work is geared towards rich families and trust fund babies. I didn't want to believe them, and I wanted to prove them wrong, but at the moment I'm found wanting. The money is just so sour in this field that it's virtually impossible to thrive without some kind of substantial buffer or parental assistance. My salary is paltry in comparison to the money I need to live decently here, as an expat. And NGOs don't value young people at all, or really anyone who's not at the very top, and don't value our work in general, and it shows in our salaries. And whoever said Africa is cheap, clearly never went to Africa before.
  
• Being an aid worker doesn't usually mean you get to do actual work on the ground. I mean, I'm on the ground right now, yes, but there's a lot of paper pushing even on my end. But most aid workers have a little bit of fieldwork, but most often end up in an office, far removed from the actual work needed to be done in the field. I feel like that makes a lot of gaps between the needs of the people and what is given to them through aid or development work. There are cultural differences so great and subtle that even though you may live in the village with the people for a while, you'll never fully understand what's going on. And honestly? It's a huge turnoff. I've seen a lot of development NGOs and whatnot in countries trying to do good work, but the founders and decision makers are so far from the beneficiaries, that they end up taking on useless projects that are not helping anyone by create bloated programs and confused ideals within the local community. Am I rambling?
  
• A lot of aid work seems to be more about patting each other on the backs, too. I always think of the South Park episode where everyone buys a hybrid and everyone else responds with, "Good for YOU!" There's a lot of lip service and a lot of talking head syndrome, and yet I feel like everyone is so proud of themselves for going out to countries to do good, while everyone at home stays there watching TV, that they just sit in smug satisfaction that they're getting things done as they boast about being in on Facebook while they hire locals for CHEAP to do the work about which they're boasting!
  
• The stuff is just so damn sad sometimes. It's like doing aid work are for the self-declared martyrs who feed off of the devastation and tragedies in the world. Like they feel better when things are sad and tragic and there's little going on that's good. Do humans get off by proving their strength during strife?
  
• I feel like, no matter how hard I could try, or how valiant my efforts have been, I can never really truly change things or make social waves anywhere in the deeply-in-need developing world because I will always be an outsider. I'm a white chick. What do I know about being a person from here? What do I know about what struggles they've been through? I feel the distance between even me and my students; even though they adore me and tell me I've changed their lives, I know that a lot of what I have tried to do is lost with my foreign ways. And it will always be that way, because I'm not one of them. I'm an outsider. And it's the foreigner versus them, the locals in need. They love me being there, paying attention to me, but when I leave, will they make real change from what I said?

What does this all mean, then? What now? Well, I want to help people, yes. I'm thinking that there are people in the US who need help. I can help them. And you might be aware of my business ideas for starting up a mobile self defense program...well, I want to figure out if/how I can franchise it out to local communities throughout the world in need. I mean, why not? 

Meanwhile, I think I want to make more money. I have a list of dreams and goals I want to accomplish, and almost all of it requires some kind of financial responsibility. I want to be able to do work that I enjoy and am good at, and pack some of the money away at the same time. That way I can return to Africa, but on my own time and dime, and in my own way. Probably as a guest visiting for a few weeks. Or working internationally and doing some consulting/training/oversight here and there. That's the thought for now.