Shades of “corruption”

I learned two new Kiswahili* words yesterday. Translated to English, they both mean corruption.

Takrima and Rushwa. Google translate tells me they mean handouts and corruption respectively. In reality, they both have connotations of corruption, but with one crucial difference.

Takrima can only be given and never asked for. Rushwa can be asked for. Takrima is like a gift you give to someone with the intention of asking them for a favour. Rushwa can go both ways – you can ask for a rushwa before doing a favour for someone.

Apparently, it was a former prominent politician who made popular the differences in these two words. He claimed that he was only taking takrima and not rushwa. (I’m unsure about this story, since I only briefly heard it from a colleague.)

During one development studies course, we had a few lectures on what is corruption. Interestingly, corruption is very hard to define. According to different customs and norms, what is corruption in one place can be expected politeness/respect in another. For example, in some places, if you get into power and do not provide benefits for your relatives, you are seen as disrespectful at best and a ‘traitor’ at worst. From one perspective, this makes sense. You only got into power because of those around you who helped you; shouldn’t you pay them back?

I think the existence of the two words of takrima and rushwa explains a bit about the cultural expectations surrounding family and friendship ties in Swahili-speaking regions.

Also apparently (because I heard this from a friend), by some definitions of corruption, Norway is one of the most corrupted countries in the world.

P.S. if I got the meanings of these words wrong, please let me know!

* Some may be confused – in English the national language of Tanzania is Swahili. However, in Swahili, the language is called Kiswahili. Just like English is Kingereza or Chinese is Kichina. I think ‘ki’ means ‘of.’


Lesson: if you’re serious about staying and working in a foreign country, you have two choices: 1) start you job search earlier and/or 2) stay behind for a while to focus on job searching and networking.

Do not have vague hopes about funding for your organization to hire you to come in on time (and thus postpone starting your job search). Do not book your ticket out of the place too early and risk having to spend extra to change your ticket. *Sigh*


International Development Week at UBC

This morning, I woke up at 3:50 am to skype into a conference in Vancouver at UBC. I was one of the presenters at the panel for International Development Week called “A Day in the Life of the International Humanitarian.

The theme was a ‘typical day’ of my work (and the 5 other presenters). Just the thought of a ‘typical day’ is quite interesting because the things I do almost always differ from day to day. But I did my best to represent the different aspects that I work with and also some of the challenges.

It’s really hard presenting without seeing your audience, only speaking to the computer. They also didn’t have enough computers for me to keep listening to the whole panel. I did my part and then had to stop skyping. Bummer. I was looking forward to hearing what the other panellists were doing!

Anyways, the questions I got were:

  1. “Do you think your work makes an impact?”
  2. “Did you have any culture shock moving to a new country?”
  3. “How is it like as a woman travelling and working in Africa?”

I thought they were all really good questions. Too bad I didn’t have enough time to answer them properly. So here’s some fuller answers.

“Do you think your work makes an impact?”

In short, yes I do. We’re not saving the world or the country, but we’re definitely making some people’s life better. I think very carefully about all the activities that my organization asks me to do, if I had a feeling that it would do more harm than good, I would refuse to take part. Fortunately, I have a really good supervisor who explains to me how the world of development and NGOs work (from his point of view, of course) and it helps me navigate my own way. In many cases, we’re providing the ‘missing link’ in making processes work – we’re bringing government departments together so that an urban agriculture strategic plan can be submitted to the Master Plan; we’re bringing urban agriculture groups together so they can form a network. We’re not telling anyone what is the best way to improve their or their country’s situation; we’re simply being the catalyst because there’s often a lack of ‘push’ behind what people think should happen.

I like that we work at different levels to push for change, because not only do I get to have a feel about how different sectors work, but also because change often doesn’t happen because people don’t work on bridging the divides between the government, the civic groups, and the grassroots. I find that my organization works in a niche that is often neglected and, as such, cause development projects to fail. Of course, after all this self-congratulating, at the end of the day, nobody would know if our approach to development would actually work or if it would have any impact until many years later. Even with the passing of time, it is hard to measure exactly how much impact what you did had on such a large process. Sometimes, you can only work in faith and with intuition.

“Did you have any culture shock moving to a new country?”

I doubt there is a person alive that haven’t experience culture shock moving to a different country or even the next town over. We often grow up thinking the world is like how it is from our eyes. Gradually, we discover that there are many perspectives of how the world is and should be. That to me is the most fascinating part of living abroad. And also one of the important reasons why I like working in development.

I did have very strong culture shock the first time I went to East Africa – Uganda, to be specific. More details can be found on this post I wrote a while ago. This time when I came back, I almost had none. I had to adjust to a different working environment, that’s for sure. I had never worked at the government level before and this placement has been much longer than what I had last time. However, in terms of feeling comfortable with my living situation, I haven’t had any problems. This could be partly because I grew up back and forth between two different countries and was constantly moving houses. I’ve never felt that there is anywhere that is specifically ‘home’ and I tend to settle down in any place I go pretty quickly.

“How is it like as a woman travelling and working in Africa?”

It’s not easy travelling as a woman. It’s also not easy travelling as a man, or really as someone who looks and acts foreign in any place. You will stand out. You will get attention, way more than what you’re used to at home because you don’t look like you’re local.

From my experience travelling and working in East Africa, it is not unsafe. It’s probably as unsafe as in Vancouver. (I know crime rates are higher etc etc, but most tourists or foreigners don’t actually go to the places with high crime rates, e.g. in the unplanned settlements.) There are places you shouldn’t go at night and there are places where you have to dress appropriately. Always ask locals and foreigners who have been around for a while about where it is safe or unsafe. As a woman, there are definitely more restrictions on what you can or cannot wear. When in doubt, always dress covering your shoulders and lower legs. I find that you often have to dress even more conservative than the young local women because you do stand out more. For example, here in Dar es Salaam, women can wear tank tops, but when I do, people look at me more. That’s not necessarily something you want when you’re coming home later in the night. During the day or at the beach, it’s probably fine.

As a woman, also, you almost always get different treatment depending on if you’re with a male companion (friend or partner) or not. Just the sight of having a male person next to you makes people treat you differently. For me, this is one of the more uncomfortable realities. You’re having a good chat with someone and then if suddenly a male friend joins the conversation, the whole dynamic changes. I still don’t really know why this is. Men also often only speak to your male friend and not you if you’re together. I’ve had experiences where men will ask questions through my male friend about me, as if I don’t have the ability to answer myself. Whether this is out of respect (as in they assume my friend is my husband) or some notion of me having inferior mental capacity, I don’t really know. Although, on the flip side, there are advantages. If you’re going out at night, it’s always safer to have at least one male with you, especially if you’re dancing. Just the fact that your group of girls came in with a guy makes all the difference in how close some (probably drunker) people try to get.

You’ll also get lots of marriage proposals and “I love yous”. People might ask you what is your name, how you are doing, and then, by the third question, as you to marry them or take them back to Canada. Laugh it off. Sometimes it makes me annoyed unnecessarily. It’s probably one of those little annoyances that are better left as a little annoyance than to be dwelled on.

In terms of work, gender is an issue. I find the grassroots level groups that I work with often have unequal gender dynamics. Men almost always dominate. Even the most outspoken women don’t really make opinionated statements, compared to the men. There are also groups that I work with where, probably because of the gender imbalance, it is usually the men who get more advantages from the project. I’m not sure if the culture is slowly changing, but younger women I meet seem to be more and more assertive, which is good progress. At the governmental level, however, gender dynamics are very balanced. There are high level female directors. There are highly respected elder ‘mamas’ (calling someone mama here is respectful). Whenever I’m in a meeting with government officers, it is seniority and rank that determines how much someone speaks, not usually their gender. In general, I find Tanzanian women very strong; or at least stronger than I had anticipated.

So I hope that answers the questions a little bit better. What are your experiences? Questions and comments are always welcome!


Random

Went running with my room mate this morning before it got too hot. It was actually quite nice except I’m not a good runner. I can swim 60 half laps (which I did last night – so good to go swimming again), but running…pff….

***

As I was walking to the office today, two guys said hi to each other. And then “where’s the Chinese person going?” My daily activities have officially turned into a greeting now. Great.


Finger-crossing for a new job here in Dar es Salaam. Please, just tell me the answer already!


A girl from Malawi

It was a friend’s farewell dinner the other night. We agreed to go to a certain nearby restaurant.

The restaurant was dark. A young girl sat at the entrance, which was blocked by two tables. So I sat down and asked if it was closed. She said yes, they rest on Tuesdays. Deciding that I should just wait for my friends to come, I tried to chat with her. I say ‘try’ because usually it just ends up with me saying the same Swahili phrases and not understanding anything substantial from the conversation.

It turns out that Hebi (I think that’s how her name is spelt) is from Malawi. She’s working in Dar for six months to earn enough money for one semester of her university tuition back in Malawi. She’s a social work studies student. Her aunt agreed to support part of her education, but she had to find the rest of the money. Probably a freshman, she has three to four years of university to finish before graduating.

“Wow, you travelled all the way here to find work? How long have you been in Dar es Salaam?” Intrigued, I couldn’t help being nosy.

Hebi has only been in Dar for a month. She speaks no Swahili and can’t find a job other than cleaning. Currently, she’s working at one of my favourite pizza restaurants down the street. I said I don’t think I’ve seen her before. Oh, that’s because she’s always in the kitchen, cleaning. She needs to work hard to save up money.

How much does she have to save up for tuition for a semester (which I think is 6 months)? “My aunt will contribute 20,000 Tanzanian Shillings. I will need to come up with 30,000,” came the answer. That’s $20 USD. She came all the way to Tanzania to earn $20. It would take her 6 months.

Speechless. My friends’ arrival at that moment allowed to me to slip away with a polite good bye, allowed me to not respond.

To be honest, I didn’t know how to. I had spent that amount on dining out the past two days.

*****I’m writing this not as a rich little brat who hasn’t ever tried to understand how the vast majority of the country lives. I know a lot of the hardships. I’ve talked to many people, albeit through a translator, both in the village and in Dar. I’m also very aware of the power dynamic between foreigners and locals. I usually like to think of myself as having a good grasp on the challenges of human dynamics in development work. I’ve had similar moments before, like when I found out that the secondary school in Nyandira (the village I stayed at last year) had 200 students and 4 biology books and no science teacher. One book costs 10,000 Tanzanian Shillings ($7 USD). School fees are 20,000 Tsh ($13.5 USD) for 6 months, yet paying them is the top problem every parent and child would tell me. I know this. But this recent exchange particularly surprised me. Maybe because she was the first Malawian I’ve talked to. Maybe because I could communicate directly. Maybe because it was at that pizza restaurant.******


best Christmas present ever

**I wrote this post a long time ago and totally forgot to post it!**

On Christmas day, I received the most heart-warming present. Not only was it tear-jerking, it was also delivered at the exact time I needed a little boost. My friends are too amazing for words.

I’ve been a little bit homesick for a while. Not the full-blown ‘I-don’t-care-(insert whiny voice)-just-get-me-on-a-plane’ kind of homesick. Just missing family and friends. Missing those conversations that make me the happiest person in the world. Missing communication that doesn’t require words, because you know each other’s emotions and gestures inside out. I wasn’t surprised when this hit; it always comes and always quietly sneaks away.

And, I guess, to compensate, as one of wiser friends pointed out, I socialize, socialize, and socialize. I mean, I love my friends here – they’re interesting, intelligent, and fun. It’s not, though, the same kind of friendship that I have with people I’ve known for years. Maybe it’s endearment, maybe it’s the ‘test of time,’ maybe it’s just habitual comfort, but my friends over the years mean a lot to me. In some ways, they are part of me. Yet, socializing is draining. For an introvert (or maybe an ambivert), socializing doesn’t charge my batteries as for extroverts. As much as I love meeting new people and ‘going out’ I need equal, if not more, time alone. I haven’t had quality alone time for a while.

So when this pink eye and fever hit, it might have been a blessing in disguise. I was forced to stay home. It took me a few days to get into ‘alone mode.’


Response to Tiger Mom

You know, there was this huge debate online when the Tiger Mom article came out. “She’s right!” screamed one side. “She’s insane” rallied the other. I followed the debates like a little kid following the Magic School Bus – eyes glued and fascinated.

I, quite obviously, lean to the side where parents shouldn’t be so stereotypically Asian. I would have given up ‘being a good kid’ a long time ago if I had been forced through Amy Chua’s regime. I have to say, my parents did a great job balancing the sugar with the vinegar – in fact, I don’t really remember them saying anything when I didn’t practice my piano or finish my homework. And probably because of that, I almost always enjoyed my homework (hah! geek from birth), but almost never practiced my piano. And of course, there were no amount of threats that could keep me away from the horse stable.

Then, I read this article that supported Tiger Mom (or in this case, Dad).

She talks about how her dad forced her to practise tennis until everything was perfect. In the process, she developed such a hate for tennis that “When I step onto a court, I go through PTSD.” But who cares? She can do perfectly precise backhands.

I thought about writing a huge reply according to my guttural distaste for this kind of parenting. But it really boils down to this point:

I’d rather be crappy at playing the piano than hate playing at all.

I came to this realisation recently. I was listening to the amazing piano solo The Hours by Philip Glass, and my fingers were just itching to try out this piece. I jokingly told my friend that if I could play The Hours, I would die a happy person. I hadn’t had a feeling for wanting to play the piano for maybe a year.

I have to admit, I really do suck at playing the piano. Music rhythms and notes don’t come naturally to me. I can never remember any piece by heart. Plus I hate practicing. It’s not a good combination. I took lessons for maybe 6 years (?) and am still at a very low level. Part of the reason, I suspect, was because my piano teachers in Hong Kong only ever wanted me to take more piano exams. They pushed me to practice and I rebelled. During the years when I took classes, every time I sat in front of a piano, I felt a resistance. I couldn’t fully enjoy myself. Yet, it was only after I stopped taking classes that I started enjoying the piano once more. I would play the songs I already knew, over and over and over again. (Rather like my preference of listening to the same song for hours on end.) Sitting by myself, just listening to the notes coming from the movement of my hand. I didn’t care if the songs were simple. I didn’t care that I couldn’t do fancy techniques. I just enjoyed my time with my crappy music.

I wouldn’t trade perfect playing with this kind of joy.

I think it’s ridiculous to say that your enjoyment of certain activities only comes after you become good at said activity. I’d say that my enjoyment of music would be lower than the Dead Sea if I were forced to practice until perfection.


Of money and projects

One group of farmers that I’ve been working with abused the funds we gave them for their project. Blatant stealing by the only two male group members out of 7.

I won’t go into details. But there’s been a lot of complications and the big showdown is on Monday. I wonder how it’ll turn out.

If you ask me, there were a lot of things wrong with how the project developed in the first place. But it still doesn’t make me feel less sad at the fact that it has to turn out this way.

As much as I hate to generalize, I really think there is a culture of ‘corruption’ or abusing of power here. It goes from the very bottom to the very top. There is a sense of entitlement, that it’s ‘natural’ to abuse your power once you have it. No one should hold any grudges because, hey, if you were in my position, you would have done the same thing.

Sometimes, well most of the time, it’s a little bit more than mind boggling.

I’ll write more updates once the showdown on Monday happens and the verdict is out.


Why here? Why anywhere?

What is it that I like about Dar es Salaam?

I don’t really have an answer, except that I feel as content as anywhere else I’ve lived. Isn’t that enough?

There are ups. There are downs. There are happy moments. And sad moments. Good people. Annoying people. And everything in between. What is there not to like?

** well I’ve actually been a bit negative lately, mostly from stress of maybe being jobless soon and a bit homesick (or let me rephrase that – missing my parents and close friends). But other than that, I’m quite content to live here. Actually, probably anywhere in the world.


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