This is Africa, a bit Like Marx

23 May 2010

Kigali, Rwanda

I could do this in America- the lazy summer shenanigans. I’ve gotten lost in the lethargy of summer and the terminal mindset of having 5 weeks to go. And now I realize that 5 weeks is actually a really significant portion of the time that I’ve spent here; it’s enough time to do something new. I still have time to learn something, and I think I gave up on that for a little while.

As an expat, or at least someone who’s a part of that community, I think it’s easy to become discouraged- getting to know people only to see them leave at the end of their contract. There’s a sense of pomposity, or self-righteousness maybe, when you stay abroad for long enough. At least in my experience, it’s easy to begin thinking that I’ve seen everything, done everything, and that I have some idea what this country is like. In reality, I haven’t seen or done much, and I am only beginning to understand the broader outlines of the Rwandan experience. Sure, I’ve been to the genocide memorials, the Millennium Village (twice actually), some extremely rural areas, and the tourist hangouts on Lake Kivu among other places. And after all of that, I felt as if I’d accomplished something. Maybe I have. Recently though, I’ve caught myself falling into the numbness that often accompanies the warmer of the two solstices. The days are always the same length here, being so close to the equator, so I don’t even know if solstices are applicable. But you get what I’m trying to say.

My internship isn’t particularly challenging, as most internships aren’t. I spend my days reading the news, becoming completely consumed with the plethora of international crises, and intermittently completing the small amounts of work that I manage to get my hands on. Interning at the largest government institution in Rwanda, one might think there would be more work involved. But, as I’ve been reminded over and over again- “this is Africa.” And that’s supposed to serve as some sort of excuse.

My last entry was about “Embracing the Chaos.” For some people, that’s the culturally sensitive thing to do. Cultural sensitivity, however, just ends up being boring, and sometimes even this sort of arbitrary obedience to the way things are. When I really think about it, I’m a fairly insensitive person when it comes to the restrictions of cultural failings, at least in the States. So, really, why would I succumb to what I perceive as cultural limitations in another society? Of course, there’s always a level of decency that needs to be maintained in order to be successful and respectable. I’m not arguing against being polite or refraining from bringing up painful histories. I suppose I’m arguing against passively accepting inefficiency, or as some might say, “embracing the chaos.” Saying “T.I.A” (this is Africa) holds no significance for me anymore. Yes, this is Africa. Thank you for the reminder. Now, do something.

Now, linking this with my first paragraph, there’s this thing about social integration. Coming into a foreign society, I had this desire to assimilate, to become a part of that society, and, by doing that, to feel like I’ve done something meaningful. But maybe I’ve gone too far. Perhaps this is a stretch, an intellectualization of the simple fact that, for one reason or another, I’ve gotten lazy and homesick. Or maybe I’m just following the logic. Continuing with the latter assumption, my endeavors to assimilate, to “embrace the chaos,” and to accept that “this is Africa” have been successful. My naïveté with regard to interning at the RDB was that my work there could be meaningful. Thus, my assimilation into this culture has simply meant that I accept its failings. But now, reflecting on this, I realize that overcoming that apathy might be another step in experiential learning- accepting cultural shortcomings, and not being consumed by them. Making comparisons to other countries might be inaccurate, but I don’t support the conservative and often times bigoted culture of the Bible belt, and I don’t accept the culture under-aged sex trafficking in Thailand.

I’m not attempting to equate institutional inefficiency with bigotry or child sex slaves, but I think the analogy is valid. On the so-called “Dark Continent,” the acceptance of these cultural shackles in the face of development is unacceptable. Acknowledging those failings and attempting to embrace them is even more backwards. And it’s all the more challenging to know that I can’t fix it. That’s probably my American desire for perfection and instant gratification. It’s true though. As an outsider, I’m not in the position; I don’t really have the right to make such a critical analysis of Rwandan culture. Perhaps my argument is a bit like Marx and the proletariat. There will be no violent revolution of people that aren’t consistently late, that work efficiently and have effective time management skills- people that realize the importance of order in development. Perhaps only the tide of history will bring with it an upheaval of chaos, and the phrase “this is Africa” will be only an obsolete memory.

The truth is, I couldn’t do this in America. I’ve been knocked off of my horse called determination and landed in a puddle of apathy. Realizing that now, I need to get back on the horse.