Living in a third world country has thrust poverty and disparity into my immediate line of vision on a daily basis. Malnutrition is rampant and Tanzanians emaciated bodies are evidence of it. Meanwhile, in stark contrast we mzungus, white men, fly by them in our $30,000 Land Cruisers on our way to the yacht club for sailing lessons or to Osaka Japanese restaurant for sushi. We go to Shoppers Plaza grocery store and hand the cashier more money for our weekend goodies than she makes in a month. Our house help cook succulent meals of abundance for the family (with decadent desserts, of course) while thinking of their own children who are at home digging through the mud in hopes that the recent rains have brought the underground moths closer to the surface for easy harvesting; it is after all, a great source of protein.
Living in this kind of chronic desperation and necessity whilst coming into contact with the comparatively opulent wealth and waste of the mzungu undoubtedly leaves many Tanzanians resentful and bitter towards us. I don’t blame them either; I can’t image needing so many things and seeing it around me knowing that ‘I can look, but I can’t touch.’
Some keep their feelings hidden, smiling and doing a wonderful job for their bosses. They know they are getting paid better than many of their counterparts who are not so lucky as to score employment with an mzungu.
Others deal with feelings of anger and envy, bred of desperation, by actions of outright hostility towards the mzungu. This kind of encounter most often occurs within the context of some sort of money exchange like refusing to give a short taxi ride for a reasonable rate or charging astronomical prices for local vegetables.
My classroom assistant, Mariam, is a wonderful Tanzanian woman with whom I have become quite close since my arrival. She and I are comfortable enough to be able to talk honestly and openly about our cultures and the misunderstandings between them.
She and I were talking about this topic one day and she said that many locals who work for or with expats (foreigners) are stuck in a precarious position because they truly do admire and enjoy their mzungu friends but face these feelings of envy and anger towards them because of the inequalities.
The mzungu version of the sentiment that Mariam expressed is occasionally voiced during conversations with my friends. I admit with shame and embarrassment that it’s surprisingly easy to slip into a mode of annoyance by those Tanzanians who resort to behavior that is rude, intrusive, forceful, or hostile.
The argument for and against foreign aid is another topic for a later post, but it does affect this situation. Without getting into the details, Tanzania has been the recipient of an astronomical amount of foreign aid over the years. However well-intended this aid is, its givers have mismanaged its structure and have inadvertently helped create a society who have become accustomed to a hand out not a hand up.
I have to consistently remind myself of the fact that desperation and an immediate survival instinct for themselves and their family are causes for many actions that are deemed ‘unpleasant’ and ‘inappropriate’ in my Western mind. When I instead picture the hungry son, sick spouse, or uneducated sister at home my heart breaks and I thank God for his unending blessings to me. My continued hope and prayer is that my heart always breaks with the things that break His.
