Today, while I was trying to get a visa at the Ethiopian embassy for an upcoming trip, I met an older, soft-spoken South African man. When I casually asked where he was coming from, he answered "Nepal". "So you flew?" "No, actually my friend and I drove." I couldn't believe it, but it turns out that wasn't even half the story. As we chatted, I learned that they were on their way home--both men had driven all the way to Nepal (they had aimed for China, but couldn't get in) from South Africa and were now on their way home. They left in the summer of 2008 and are slated to return to South Africa this June, just in time for the World Cup and to promote some sort of peace initiative with Nelson Mandela. "So what would possess a person to drive from South Africa to Nepal and back again? Were you just bored and looking for something to do?" He laughed and smiled. "Something like that...and people said it couldn't be done." "So you set out to prove them wrong?" "Exactly." At first, I thought this might be some crazy person just pulling my leg, but then when he got out his three passports (because one was not enough to hold all the entry and exit stamps) and explained to the official, "Well look, here you see the stamps for Tanzania, Malawi, Kenya, Sudan, Egypt, etc. And here is Jordan, Syria, Iran, Pakistan, India, etc" I knew that perhaps these two guys were for real. After my meeting with the visa official, I went back to the waiting room to wish them well on the rest of their journey. One of the men gave me his name and told me that if I looked on google, perhaps I might see something about their trip. Here is a link I found:
http://www.thenational.ae/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20091128/MOTORING/711279940/1196/rss
What a wild ride they seem to have had...amazing the people you meet at embassies and airports.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
On Beggars
One of the constant questions on my mind is "How do I interact with the beggars here?" Everytime I leave the house and walk down the street, beggars follow me and ask for food, money or whatever I have. They come in many shapes and sizes, from old men with canes, people in wheelchairs or with other handicaps, women with babies, and children from about two to twelve years old. Many people have told me not to give out money, especially to children, because they often give it to an adult who functions as their "pimp" and takes most of the money the child collects. I've also heard that some younger boys will use money they get from begging to buy khat (a legal drug that is widely used by men here) because they want to be like the older men. Begging is such a part of the culture. Even children who clearly are well-dressed and well-fed will leave their parents when they see me coming, run up to my side and hold out their hand asking for money. It's hard to resist a white lady, I guess!
At times, I've seen adults berate little children because they know they should not be begging. The other day, a little boy and girl merely said "Bonjour" as I passed, so I smiled and greeted them back. Then out of nowhere this old man flew into a rage, started yelling and swinging a huge stick around. At first, I thought he was coming for me (and had some of his blows been an inch or two closer, he probably would have broken my nose), but he soon ran past me to chase the kids and rain down blows on them. I still can't figure out why--perhaps it was his begging territory and the children were encroaching or maybe he thought they shouldn't be asking me for anything. Still, I couldn't imagine that that would warrant beating them with a stick. Another time, a little boy approached me to ask for food, but when he opened his mouth and said "Baksheesh", crumbs and chunks of food fell out! I laughed and told him "Look at you, little one. You've got so much baksheesh, it's coming out of your mouth!" I then pointed at the food he had in his hand and he sheepishly tried to hide it from me, but it was too late. He knew the jig was up.
It's hard to give to every single person who asks (if I did, I would come out of the grocery store with sacks full of food and be empty-handed by the time I got home). It's also hard to give to people who just expect something, try to manipulate me or who are ungrateful when I do give. It seems easier to me to give to someone who is clearly in need but doesn't ask than to someone else who puts on a fake sad face and then gives me this look like "Yeah, that's right. I deserve this and you don't because you're rich and I'm poor." This reaction can certainly test whether or not you are truly a 'cheerful giver'!
At times, when I refuse a child they will walk with me and then their friends or whoever else will join in too until I have a little chorus of voices calling me Mama and Auntie and asking for 10 franc or putting their hands to their mouths to ask for food. Some of them laugh and smile and enjoy themselves as they beg while others look like the most pathetic little street urchins you've ever seen. Sometimes I feel like the Pied Piper of Little Beggar Children and I'm not sure if it's better to laugh or cry about it.
So what to do about all these people when I have so much and they have so little? Whether begging is their job or their only means of survival, I still have much to lose before I am ever going to have to go without food. There are many people in genuine need and I want to help, but in a way that is actually meaningful and not just massaging my conscience. So I started carrying around a water bottle to give people a drink out of and little bits of food here and there. The test for me if someone really needs help is if they will take a drink of water first. If so then they probably need some food too. If not, then they just want money for something that isn't food or drink.
I finally felt I was getting to a place where I had a little system going and I knew how to react when the masses of women and children come looking for something, but today I saw a sight that almost undid me. It was during the afternoon rest break, so the streets were mostly empty. I saw a little boy up ahead, but his expression was different. He didn't put on his sad little beggar face like most children do. He looked panicked and truly desperate for someone, anyone to help. He was standing over another little boy the same age who was lying on the sidewalk. As I approached, I could see the boy on the sidewalk twitching and shaking uncontrollably and foaming at the mouth. He looked like he had a severe disease or had been badly tramuatized or injured. I had never seen anyone, much less a child of 7 or 8 years old, in such a state. My first thought was "Oh my gosh! What do I do? Call 911! No wait! This is Djibouti! There is no 911!!!" This little boy looked like he was at death's door and his friend was hysterical. I looked around and saw one of my students passing by. I called him over and asked him to talk to the boys and see what was wrong. After a few seconds he said, "The boy is just hungry. He needs something to eat." I was shocked. I knew you could die from hunger eventually, but had never seen hunger like that with my own eyes before, not as a statistic but in the face of a young boy just a few years older than my nephew. There was no parent or guardian or anyone older than eight that I could see.
So Omar, my student, gave the friend a couple hundred franc (a little over a dollar) to buy some food. We tried to make sure he knew to use the money for food and not for anything else. To my surprise, when I pulled out my water bottle, the little boy was able to sit (with his friend supporting him) and drink a little. I urged him to take more, but he could only handle one little sip. It broke my heart to walk away, but what else could I do? As much as I wanted to give him a piggyback ride and take him home, I was supposed to teach a class. As I walked to the university I scanned the road, but every cafe and restaurant was closed. Most of the street vendors had gone home and the only ones who were left were just selling candy and pop--not much nutrition for a little boy who needs a bowl of rice much more than a Coke. I tried to find them after class, but their spot on the sidewalk was empty. A dollar and a sip of water hardly seems even close to adequate. I've had other kids turn up their noses at me when I offered a banana or a drink of water, but this kid was literally dying for one.
At times, I've seen adults berate little children because they know they should not be begging. The other day, a little boy and girl merely said "Bonjour" as I passed, so I smiled and greeted them back. Then out of nowhere this old man flew into a rage, started yelling and swinging a huge stick around. At first, I thought he was coming for me (and had some of his blows been an inch or two closer, he probably would have broken my nose), but he soon ran past me to chase the kids and rain down blows on them. I still can't figure out why--perhaps it was his begging territory and the children were encroaching or maybe he thought they shouldn't be asking me for anything. Still, I couldn't imagine that that would warrant beating them with a stick. Another time, a little boy approached me to ask for food, but when he opened his mouth and said "Baksheesh", crumbs and chunks of food fell out! I laughed and told him "Look at you, little one. You've got so much baksheesh, it's coming out of your mouth!" I then pointed at the food he had in his hand and he sheepishly tried to hide it from me, but it was too late. He knew the jig was up.
It's hard to give to every single person who asks (if I did, I would come out of the grocery store with sacks full of food and be empty-handed by the time I got home). It's also hard to give to people who just expect something, try to manipulate me or who are ungrateful when I do give. It seems easier to me to give to someone who is clearly in need but doesn't ask than to someone else who puts on a fake sad face and then gives me this look like "Yeah, that's right. I deserve this and you don't because you're rich and I'm poor." This reaction can certainly test whether or not you are truly a 'cheerful giver'!
At times, when I refuse a child they will walk with me and then their friends or whoever else will join in too until I have a little chorus of voices calling me Mama and Auntie and asking for 10 franc or putting their hands to their mouths to ask for food. Some of them laugh and smile and enjoy themselves as they beg while others look like the most pathetic little street urchins you've ever seen. Sometimes I feel like the Pied Piper of Little Beggar Children and I'm not sure if it's better to laugh or cry about it.
So what to do about all these people when I have so much and they have so little? Whether begging is their job or their only means of survival, I still have much to lose before I am ever going to have to go without food. There are many people in genuine need and I want to help, but in a way that is actually meaningful and not just massaging my conscience. So I started carrying around a water bottle to give people a drink out of and little bits of food here and there. The test for me if someone really needs help is if they will take a drink of water first. If so then they probably need some food too. If not, then they just want money for something that isn't food or drink.
I finally felt I was getting to a place where I had a little system going and I knew how to react when the masses of women and children come looking for something, but today I saw a sight that almost undid me. It was during the afternoon rest break, so the streets were mostly empty. I saw a little boy up ahead, but his expression was different. He didn't put on his sad little beggar face like most children do. He looked panicked and truly desperate for someone, anyone to help. He was standing over another little boy the same age who was lying on the sidewalk. As I approached, I could see the boy on the sidewalk twitching and shaking uncontrollably and foaming at the mouth. He looked like he had a severe disease or had been badly tramuatized or injured. I had never seen anyone, much less a child of 7 or 8 years old, in such a state. My first thought was "Oh my gosh! What do I do? Call 911! No wait! This is Djibouti! There is no 911!!!" This little boy looked like he was at death's door and his friend was hysterical. I looked around and saw one of my students passing by. I called him over and asked him to talk to the boys and see what was wrong. After a few seconds he said, "The boy is just hungry. He needs something to eat." I was shocked. I knew you could die from hunger eventually, but had never seen hunger like that with my own eyes before, not as a statistic but in the face of a young boy just a few years older than my nephew. There was no parent or guardian or anyone older than eight that I could see.
So Omar, my student, gave the friend a couple hundred franc (a little over a dollar) to buy some food. We tried to make sure he knew to use the money for food and not for anything else. To my surprise, when I pulled out my water bottle, the little boy was able to sit (with his friend supporting him) and drink a little. I urged him to take more, but he could only handle one little sip. It broke my heart to walk away, but what else could I do? As much as I wanted to give him a piggyback ride and take him home, I was supposed to teach a class. As I walked to the university I scanned the road, but every cafe and restaurant was closed. Most of the street vendors had gone home and the only ones who were left were just selling candy and pop--not much nutrition for a little boy who needs a bowl of rice much more than a Coke. I tried to find them after class, but their spot on the sidewalk was empty. A dollar and a sip of water hardly seems even close to adequate. I've had other kids turn up their noses at me when I offered a banana or a drink of water, but this kid was literally dying for one.
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