Mazungu = Money

Everywhere we go it seems we are asked for money. If I told you it was somewhat exhausting, it would be an extreme understatement. It is also indescribably gut-wrenching and disheartening to have to say no to people who so obviously need money for their next meal. Other times, it is so incredibly easy: the already large woman in the market asking us to buy her some meat; the old woman we pass while walking, who at first to appears to be friendly saying “Merembe” and coming to shake our hands, only to grip tightly and ask for “Kumi” (10) bob; the school children we pass who shout with laughter saying, “How are you? Can you give me 5 bob?”; the man in the shop down the street who brings his child over to shake our hands only to later ask for me to pay for his flight to Canada and fees for Med school. Please, remember I am a nice person. Just a bit pessimistic today.

This past weekend we learned to live like a Kenyan. We were matched with a mentor in the community who taught us to cook Ugali (wow, the muscles it takes!), Sakuma and Chai, showed us how to carry water on our heads (again... wow, the muscles it takes!), and took us to church the next morning. Sleeping in a traditional home was a bit scary, especially when it was discovered that our door did not lock and we were told that there is a ‘Night Runner’ in the area... who apparently goes around at night throwing stones on roofs and knocking on windows and door. We were assured, though, that he/she was scared of people so if you were to open the door you would not find anybody there. Oddly enough, this did not settle my imagination and much of the night was filled with me sitting up straight in bed convinced that I heard breathing, or knocking. I did survive. My time with the family was truly was an eye-opening and cherished experience that I will remember forever.

At church (Yes, a bit boring as it was in Kiswahili... sorry Yesu) we sat through a long ceremony, only to hear ‘microfinance’ being dropped every tenth word. Coincidentally (?) I was with a fellow team member who just happens to be working on a microfinance project for the summer. Partway through the service, we were asked to stand and introduce ourselves, and speak about our projects. Afterwards, we were asked for money for a microfinance loan, money to start another feeding program at another school, and money to help improve the church. If we said no to the feeding children, do you really think we are going to give funds to make the church pretty? Sorry for the cliché, but seriously... barking up the wrong tree.

On a more compassionate note, I do truly wish that I had enough money to help fix everybody’s problems. But just the fact that we are continually asked for money proves the difficulty of development work. Is it really a solution? Instead of people learning to pull themselves out of poverty, they look for handouts from the wazungus. Can we blame them? Isn’t this what development has taught them over the years? Mazungu = Money. We need to teach them the skills and the tools required to achieve success at their own hand. Yey Education Projects! To all those wazungus reading: still accepting donations.

On a cynical note, I am 30,000 dollars in debt. If you see a mazungu giving out money, let me know.