(May 22, 2011)
In the most recent semester leading up to our placement, we had many conversations about the ethics of development work. Specifically, we went through several situations that could arise, and even role played to gauge our understanding and critical thinking skills. Despite how much preparation we had, it was definitely not the same as the actual experience of being confronted with an ethical situation.
There are several kids on our compound who live with their families. I grew fond of this one little girl who was always eager to learn her alphabet and practice her spelling. Plus, she has an amazing sense of responsibility and always seemed honest. These couple days, I’ve noticed that some of the homestead kids had been asking for more and more things. They would come in and ask for snacks, becoming bolder and taking more each day. Today, the aforementioned girl, C, came up to me and explained, “I am starting school again tomorrow, and I don’t have a book or a pencil”. First thing that went through my head was the fact that books and pencils are essential things for a child to have, how can I refuse it?
Our team of three has been really in sync during our placement so far, and we usually are on the same page as things. What makes us work well together is the fact that we can talk to each other about almost everything, and we always have each other’s backs. When I was confronted by C for some school supplies, I gave her a temporary answer, ‘I don’t have any for you, but you can go to the library and ask Ivan the librarian’. It’s true, I didn’t have a book specifically for her. We didn’t bring anything specifically for anyone—we are here to help the community at a higher level than just simple, ineffective aid. I hoped that directing her to a local community center (library) would be the best bet for now. Plus, we worked at the library, and would be able to see how things progressed. Still unsure about what I answered her, I talked to Hannali behind closed doors when she came into the house, and we agreed that it was the proper thing to say to her. We also agreed to not think too much into it, that maybe C was just bringing it up sort of curiously, as if asking casually, ‘do you happen to have a book or pencil for me?’. So we left it at that.
We three girls joined in the living room to recollect our thoughts of the day, as we usually do, and so Hannali and I brought up the small incident. We started to go through our collective memories and came up with several instances where she would do extra chores for us, or be extra sweet, then ask for a treat like chocolate or candy. Then, Hannali brought up another issue regarding another of the older girls in our homestead, who had been expecting Hannali to pay for her transport all of last week. We were all really uncomfortable with these situations, because they were similar to our experiences in Mbale and Kampala, where people expected us to spend our money and share it simply because we’re muzungu and thus have money to waste. This was supposed to be home, where we could retreat from that treatment. Plus, these were kids that were asking us for things—kids with whom we’ve developed good relationships. We came to realize that we had to lock all the treats and goodies away in our rooms, and to keep our living space area as bare as possible so the children don’t expect special treatment from us. It’s tough having to take these small measures… we don’t want to think of them as manipulators, or children who are out to take advantage of us. They aren’t. But, the reality is that we do have more accessibility to the things that they need, and so they would naturally ask us for them. It’s unfair for them not to have the essentials, but it’s unfair for us to be put in these situations.
As we were discussing this, we heard calls outside in the dark, followed by shuffling. Then, the small opening in our door was opened (it can be opened from the outside). Naturally, we ask, ‘what is it?’, though we were less inviting than we usually were given our suspicions. The girl who led the children over was C, and she replied, ‘food’. Hannali went over to the opening to confirm, ‘you want chocolate? You want treats?’, to which they eagerly reply, ‘yes!’. Normally it’d be adorable, and we’d let them in within a heartbeat. But Hannali pressed on, ‘but it’s so late, you cannot have so many treats in a day!’, which prompted C to ask for what she was here for, ‘but mama (mama is a form of endearment, used especially when people want something from you), I start school tomorrow, no notebook or pen’. It was at that moment when we all breathed out a sign of relief that we were right, and that we didn’t suspect them for nothing. At the same time, we thought to ourselves, ‘now what?’.
It’s quite a sight to see the kids all crowded around the little peep hole of our padlocked door, telling us that they would like some candy and a pen and a notebook for their first day of school tomorrow. We should have drawn boundaries earlier, and could have been more wary of their intentions. Being in a new community, getting to know the children around the house, we wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. We trusted that people wouldn’t take advantage of us, especially not children. It takes a lot of boldness, hunger, or desperation to ask more than three times. Even so, we had to tell them, ‘no, you cannot have these things from us’. We drew the boundaries right then and there. Treats are for rare occasions, not for them from us simply because we come from a ‘wealthier’ world.
Thoughts?