React or Ignore (long)

For the most part on this blog I have avoided directly writing on the topic of poverty and charity (maybe one exception was here). One reason is that I feel that for 25 years, the perception of Ethiopia as completely destitute has hardly changed, and yet there has been prosperity that deserves recognition. I hesitate to reinforce a negative view of this struggling nation that has come a long way. Maybe that's why I've included a massive amount of pseudo-restaurant reviews, trying to highlight the comfort and development one experiences here. Ethiopians are all-too-aware of the perception of their country, and yet they accept that there is little they can say against it. I often hear the same person lament that conditions here are so dire, and yet they want people to know that they are modern people, living in a beautiful country with cities that are slowly-but-surely rising up to be rather cosmopolitan. As an example of this conflicted feeling, one of the hotel staff at the rather upscale Dreamliner hotel humbly joked that, "In the dictionary, under skinny, it says 'Ethiopian', right?"
Another reason I have avoided the topic is that I myself feel conflicted when discussing the topic. Foreign aid has been in the news quite a bit lately--the earthquake in Haiti or the floods in Pakistan will instantly come to most people's minds. The topic has also been covered on radio shows I listen to, such as This American Life (TAL) "Island Life" and To the Best of Our Knowledge (TTBOOK) "Ethics of Western Aid". My involvement in the water sector here is also part of foreign aid, although it is a technical cooperation project intended to benefit Ethiopians through training and support rather than cash. I am faced with the difficulties of this every day when someone invariably says, "We'd like to do that but we lack the budget." The word budget in developing countries has become synonymous with money from donor organizations. As the episode of This American Life (link above) points out, even when people donate billions, there are a magnitude of problems that prevent dollars from being the solution. Although the TAL episode seems pessimistic in many ways, it tries to get at the reality of the situation, quoting the head of the ARC, Nan Buzard, that "relief agencies have to walk a thin line between helping too little and helping too much". This statement resonates with me because I've witnessed the dependence on charity which aid has fostered (e.g. a request for new equipment since the stuff donated ten years ago is no longer suitable). This dependence can sometimes come off as an expectation that, in my weaker moments, makes me want to drag someone down to the river and teach a man to fish! But I never feel the answer is to turn our backs on people's needs, and hence I can see that "fine line" which Nan Buzard talks about quite clearly: we are destined to help too little or help too much as we try to keep driving forward. It is something I bumble through just walking in town here, as I reckon many "affluent" people here do.
To gain some perspective on the "right thing to do", the other radio program I linked to above, from the show TTBOOK, provides various approaches to foreign aid. It interviews Dambisa Moyo, a Harvard and Oxford graduate born in Zambia, who says in her book "Dead Aid" that free market solutions are the answer and, somewhat shockingly, we should end aid altogether. It also interviews philosopher Peter Singer who has written about our moral obligation to help when it does not cause us to sacrifice anything of "comparable moral importance", stressing that geographical distance does not excuse us from our ability to save a child. Finally, the show brings on Jacqueline Novogratz, author of "The Blue Sweater: Bridging the Gap Between Rich and Poor in an Interconnected World", who says charity must be combined with capitalism to really benefit people.
I tend to agree with Novograz's so-called third way of "patient capitalism". I also get the sense that the hundreds of Chinese doing business in Africa are a positive step toward development where a prospering but developing nation is helping other nations to develop. However, reading all the arguments and trying to intellectualize doesn't seem to matter when you are walking down a busy street in Sub-Saharan Africa. People of affluence, local or foreign, are forced to make a decision: react or ignore. That includes affluent Ethiopians, some of whom I see give money to beggars, others who don't. Americans also deal with beggars at home, of course, but this is not comparable to extreme poverty. My first encounter with extreme poverty was when I was young, about 19 years old, when I went to India to study abroad. For the first time I saw people who had been afflicted with leprosy or had been terribly disfigured doing hard labor. I saw the starving children hold out their hands as I raised my camera to take a picture of a tourist spot. For the first time I saw myself as a person of privilege in this world. At that time, initially I was scared, shocked and horrified. Sometimes I even felt angry, such as when I had to tell dozens of "salesmen" I didn't want to buy any souvenirs. I felt like a target or a mark for dishonest people.
In India, we were advised to do our best to negotiate prices, but expect to pay inflated prices. We were told to avoid giving handouts in the big cities because a) we would attract a crowd of beggars, and possibly pick-pockets, and b) we would not be able to be everyone's saviors. In some way, it excused us from having to make the choice, saying, "My professor said it was okay not to give." Later, when we moved to a smaller town, the director said he often gave a few coins to the women who sat every day outside the gates of our compound, and encouraged us to do our shopping at various shops to "spread the wealth" and not favor any single tailor, restaurant, etc., so one could say he saw value in being part of that community where he could help (not too little, not too much). He had been bringing students to that town in India for over 20 years, and so he was part of that community. And thanks to him, the students every year were also treated as part of the community, where people allowed us to be there to learn from them, not to save them (but, yes, to contribute, as consumers around town and by doing various chores in the compound). Even now, working here as a member of a development aid project, I have to accept that I can contribute in some ways, but not all ways.
The argument of what one can and should do will run you in circles; simply walking to the shops presents the decision to react or ignore again and again: not only the men, women and children that call you "mister" and beg for help, but also the calls from the young shoe-shiners carrying buckets of dirty water, the eager looking guys pedaling telephone cards and maps, or the women selling vegetables on the side of the road. The approaches to charity and poverty are various, but what is a typical day really present you with? Well...

Yesterday I went to the grocery store to buy a newspaper and some milk. Near the entrance is a guy who sells used magazines that he gets somehow from Ethiopian Airlines. They are slightly old issues, maybe ones that are thrown away or given to him by some kind travelers. He is a nice guy, and I decided during one of my first visits that I would buy magazines from him instead of a new one from the bookstore. I always buy his Newsweek magazine (which I feel justified in doing since I put my subscription back home on hold when overseas). He greets me with a friendly manner, I think by now having accepted me as part of the community (at least part of the year). We talk about the weather.
After that, I had my haircut (more on that in another post), and gave my stylist a 30% tip, which I suppose was charitably large, but probably appreciated for someone who makes about $2 a day.
On the way back to my hotel, a couple of kids came up and said hello to me. It turned out that they spoke English fairly well, and from their fairly clean clothes and the fact that one of them wore eyeglasses, I decided to believe them that they were practicing their English. They talked about the World Cup and their favorite players. They were nice kids, even though I didn't know enough about FIFA to really converse on the topic. At one point we were interrupted when I saw someone from the training center I recognized, one of the girls who works in the restaurant. Her face lit up and she greeted me politely by name and then went on her way. One of the kids said, "Wow, do you know everyone around here?" We continued to talk about how they play soccer football every Saturday, and how they live on the north side of town near Mt. Entoto. Eventually, and unsurprisingly, they asked me for a "donation". They told me they were starting school again in a few weeks and needed to buy workbooks. React or ignore.
I gave them each 1 birr, and then--what the heck, why not--gave an old man in rags who immediately held out his hand some change I had in my pocket. The kid with glasses said, "But, sir, this isn't enough for the workbooks," to which I could only reply, "Well, keep practicing your English then." I still thought they were intelligent and pleasant kids; not the most in need, but they got rewarded for talking to me like a human being. I suppose we all have needs.
Then I turned down another street where people were going about their business and didn't seem to pay me much attention. I walked the thin line back to my hotel.