Trudging Through Mud

9/3/2008

I’ve been in a funk of late. Most of that funkiness originating from an unrealized soccer tournament, but as with most things, there are underlying strings of tension pulled out by more overt disappointments. I find myself wondering and wrestling with my purpose here. The latest trend in international development work as seen through the limited lens of Peace Corps Togo, is not to help people but to show people how to help themselves, which echoes the famous proverb of the horse and water. But suppose for a minute that the general mentality of the community is that you will help them and even fewer people around you interpret “help” as something other than monetary donations.
Just yesterday a middle school student came to my house and recounted the tale of how his father had too many children and could no longer afford to send him to school. Two and a half weeks before the Rentree or start of school, this student is facing the all too common situation of abandoning school. So what does he do? He comes to my house, of course, to ask me to pay for his school fees. I told him that I didn’t have the money (which is actually true) and that even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to him. I instruct him that he needs to find a way to earn, raise or work for the money. After all, there are hundreds of children here in my small mound of earth that not only abandon school all the time due to lack of funds but never set foot in a classroom on account of financial strain. I want this boy to go to school and I fight the urge to just give him the money because that would be the easiest thing to do. I informed him that there are lots of things he could do to make money and I asked him to come back so we could discuss it and make a plan. He agreed and told me he would come back tomorrow (today).
He didn’t show.
I can only speculate as to why he didn’t come—there are all kinds of reasons. But I can’t help but think that he didn’t want to do the extra work even though he admitted to me he understood the importance of continuing his education.

::Pause for dinner::

Perhaps, I spoke too soon. I ate dinner with my host family tonight. The menu was fufu and pork. Yum! Yum! Quite literally after I finished eating, who strolls up, but my student-in-need. I remind him of the hour (after eight o’clock), far too late for a single woman in the bush to be receiving male visitors in the eyes of the community. People talk here. If I am to be taken seriously or given any kind of respect, there are certain things I cannot do. Plus, I don’t “work” after seven o’clock. So, he says he’s coming back tomorrow morning.
Maybe there’s hope after all; I certainly hope so.