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Check out this blog post written by Holly Collins, the Global Missions Director at The Well and what she's been learning while living in Guinea-Bissau, Africa.
As I prepped my afternoon coffee, ready to sit down and get something done, I heard a “pound, pound, pound” coming from the back steps under the kitchen window and little boys giggling. "What are they up to now?" I thought. From my window I could only make out the tops of a few heads hunched over some precious afternoon work of their own. I decided to investigate. Here is what I found:
A little boy who said he was ten and looked like he wasn’t any more than five using a rock to strike a sharp chunk of metal to split open in jagged edges a rusty old tin can. Hardly looked safe. And not sure I could condone someone getting split open on my back step I decided to intervene.
First step, ask questions.
I used my newly learned creole and asked, “What are you doing?” All I understood from the response was “carro," along with pointing to an already made makeshift toy car from a plastic bottle I got that they were making toy cars, and from the looks of it – from my old trash.
I admired their creativity. But still I thought there must be a better solution.
I know. I can help.
I went back inside, surveying the surplus of extra materials in my pantry, thinking this would be any little toy maker's dream, and grabbed an empty plastic bottle from the abundance. Smiling at the thought of my generosity and picturing their happy little cheering faces because I could provide them with the resources they needed I held up my offering to the window and said “carro?”
What ensued I should have predicted.
What had been glee and brotherly love just a few minutes ago working on their group project now turned into a mass riot of kicking, shoving, yelling, and crying as they jostled for position for the precious plastic bottle. I have been part of community development in rural settings for years. I should have seen it coming. This story has played out for years in Africa with well meaning charity organizations seeing the lack, seeing the need, thinking, “I know. I can help.” And with the resources in hand, arrive smiling, only to get trampled and run dry, with nothing improved, and worse perhaps all creativity and local inginuity squashed as they wait for the next handout from the next well-meaning white face to walk by.
I know this. All I can do is blame my actions on temporary amnesia either due to the extreme heat, daze coming out of my afternoon siesta, or the extreme cuteness of these kids.
I negotiated for a few minutes, almost convinced by one that it should go to the oldest, which was him of course. In the meantime the chaos was increasing. My mind started to clear, “Am I helping? Or am I hurting?” I slowly backed away saying, “No, No, Sorry. No.” And disappeared out of sight with my plastic bottle. I sat down at my computer to “work,” listening for the next 20 minutes the echo of my mistake as they called out my name, pounding on the door, asking for the bottle, for treats, for the moon (why not throw that in too).
Development work in Africa is not child’s play. For professionals only.
It makes me grateful for the persistence and endurance of organizations like the one my husband works for, West African Vocational Schools. Their aim is to provide not just resources, but training and education. Skills that can enhance the natural innovation and “make it work” spirit of the people instead of handouts that deflate their sense of worth and dignity and only increase our own god-complexes (Check out When Helping Hurts ). Actually, don’t tell them what I did. I’m supposed to be a professional. I’m here to consult on how to do this in culturally appropriate ways. I’ve read the book. In fact, I paid extra to take the course on this material. I know better.
But professionals fail too. Something in our heart sees a need and thinks, “I know. I can help.” And reaches down to do something.
God knows we want to see change. All I can hope for is that He will do it, and that hope keeps me playing the game, even when the score is against us.