Foreigners (in my village)

A bit of time back, I was completely enamored and engaged in one of my favorite things… watching football at the cafe. (Note to my precious readers that I am certainly talking of soccer.)

It was the second leg of the Inter Milan -Barcelona Champion’s League semi-final. This may not mean a gosh freaking darn thing to you, but it was HUUUUUGE! Let me give you some background info, so bear with me.

In Morocco, you are quite close to Spain. Morocco does not have great soccer, and most people side with Spanish La Liga teams. Barcalona and Real Madrid being the two big teams. Yes… I consider them champion chasers here. But it leads to a huge rivalry in towns, and during Barcalona matches especially, you feel like you are in the corner of some Barcelona city bar. It is that intense.

The first leg of the Semi-finals went like this…(yes they play two games, and whoever has most goals advances. Certain tie-breaks apply sometimes.) Inter Milan upset the favorites, Barcelona, 3-1 in Milan. It set up a HUUUGE second-leg. Barca needed to win by at least two goals to advance. Barca is the best club team in the world, arguably, with such ball-studs (that sounds dirty) as Messi, Ibrahimovic up front, and stingy defensive juggernauts of Puyol and Pique in the back.

By the way this post is NOT ALL ABOUT SOCCER! I was just giving a background on my being enamored in this game at the cafe!

So it was half-time, and I went to go grab some Mkota sandwiches (fried potato cakes and other spices) for my fellow PCV. I came out of the shop trying to rush back to the game, when a group of kids stopped me and started telling me to come over. I was like “what do you want?” They replied “Look, there are foreigners there in the car!” They pointed at the car, and I chuckled to myself. It certainly wasn’t the first time for this happening to me. But this time, the boys added “They are like you!”

The usual occurrence brings a separation between myself and fellow outsiders. You see, when I get told “Look, a foreigner!”, I usually reply by saying “Do you remember that I am a foreigner too?” This usually elicits the response of “Yes, but you live here and are a Moroccan now.” When I hear this I feel good, but I still this the separation is funny. I really need to figure this out if and how often it happens back home!

I went to talk to the foreigners, because it is not a regular occurrence. I quickly find out they are Spanish, and barely speak English, or Arabic, or Tam. We try English, but it quickly fails. I then just use their translator to talk in my most comfortable language in the situation, Tamazight.

I find out that they are with an NGO out of Spain, Madrid in fact, and are here (for the 2nd year in a row) doing some medical health supplies distribution, as well as some workshops for people from all over the area (think outer villages.) We chat a little, then I agree to meet them in the morning to see their workshop. It made me happy to see people doing this sort of work, but I was curious about it.

By the way, INTER MILAN lost the second leg 1-0, but advanced to the finals on aggregate goals. YES! I despise Barca by the way.

My curiosity has peaked the next morning. I go to the youth center, and begin talking to some of the local people, people I know and work with all the time, trying to find out what exactly they think is going on here. They give me the following answers:

- They are giving out medicine.
- There is a training taking place.
- I don’t know what is going on.

Word of mouth spreads easily here. Tales of new things and people (certainly my tales of travel and where i go) get told almost instantly to the town. I come back from vacations and get asked “How was XXXX place?” I certainly rarely tell people where I go… oh living in a fishbowl!

After talking to people, I get invited inside, and just become nosy to see what is going on. I see a group of Spaniards getting some medical supplies (gauze, band-aids, pain-pills) into various plastic bins. They are talking to the doctor about what is needed most. It is in French, so I follow along and understand 50 % or so.

I look at the boxes they are taking supplies from. On them, they read “Aydos Humanitarios,” or something like that. I quickly use my sleuth-like skills and figure out it means “Humanitarian Aid.” I kind of laugh, and the notion of this phrase makes me feel like I am in Somalia or some other excessively poor country in a humanitarian crisis. But here??? In my village???

I do understand the why to it all. Bringing in supplies via Spain, you need to have everything marked, and ready for customs. So I get it. But as I said, the phrase just makes me laugh when I see it live in my village… which, by the way, is not in a humanitarian crisis.

Speaking with a friend, he explains to me that these supplies are not needed, as much as money for clinics and ambulances etc. Everyone wants money, and he is being extreme, but I know he has a point.

I go and sit down, where tea is being served as well as some snack/bread with jam and butter. It is being served by the Spaniards. I don’t really know how I feel at this point. I quickly drink my tea, say goodbyes to a few people, and leave, kind of upset.

Why am I upset? Because this is a really good example in my opinion of how some development work is not good, and how hand-outs can lead to dependency.

(PLEASE NOTE: I AM FINISHING THIS POST AFTER A 10 DAY VACATION… SO I WILL TRY TO BE COHERENT)

I mean, I was being served tea and all, and yeah that is culturally sensitive and polite to do so for guests. BUT, I was being served by a Spanish lady wearing a tank top shirt and spandex pants and nothing else… well over those clothes. This was completely insensitive, and yeah sure, it was hot, but no one sees me walk around in SHORTS. Needless to say,  I was a bit uncomfortable with being associated with this group and their work.

Sure, medical supplies ended up going to various people and groups. I did not stick around (or want to) to see who exactly received these supplies. But… I wonder if they got into the right hands, and how would these Spanish folks really know who the right people to give the supplies to are in the first place.

I say this because I have been here for a year now, and even I am still confused sometimes about who the right people are to pursue a working relationship. Generally, I view myself as pretty good about reading people and their intentions, so I feel fairly confident by this comparison.

Sadly, this “aid” trip was probably deemed a success. I have no idea if there is any follow through, but the group sure did document the trip well, taking video with a super-awesome camera. I assume that this is for the report. I will even give them the benefit of the doubt here, and say they will follow-up next year when they return.

When this group left, I was asked by ten or so people if I was with this association from Spain. They then asked why I haven’t given out supplies like this group has done. This frustrates me, because I am here to build relationships (see below) and not just give hand-outs from Obama. It makes my work more difficult, and more of an uphill climb to actually accomplish things with a focus on process over results.

That’s the issue with development work. So many groups look for what I term “Band-Aid” solutions to problems that root themselves in crevasses much deeper than that. Take the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo) for a great example, or the Genocide between the Hutu and Tutsi folks in the same region. These groups raise money, food, clothes for people or victims, not knowing in the end where these supplies go, and whose hands in which they fall.It can instead actually exacerbate the issue, with potential side effects such as corruption, or leverage in some way.

Don’t get me wrong, I do know that some of these “aid” missions are quite successful. But that is the catch 22 here… check out this quote

“Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”
- Lao Tze

This quote embodies true development work in my opinion, and I think really drives the point home about “Band-Aid” solutions. The Spanish group, while certainly having great intentions, and giving good things, only created a sort of dependency on this type of service.

In actuality in Morocco, we lack enough doctors in the rural regions, and thus count on educating local community leaders in health areas such as STI preventions, general hygiene and sanitation practices, and for women, pre and post-natal child care. This is so they can go to their communities and teach others.

The hope is that by the time we leave our post in Morocco, these health-leaders can help out, and will not leave a community feeling helpless and in need of another “Band-Aid.”

But, this sort of training takes time, trust, funding, and patience. Seeing results quickly does not usually occur, and can lead to frustrations. But, sometimes, I believe more often times than not, over the long haul, it is actually cheaper in terms of dollars spent, and really creates a sense of empowerment within whatever local community work is being done.

So… I know that someone, at some place in Spain is feeling really good about their contribution. THEY SHOULD. Bottom line. I just cannot help wondering if they know exactly where their money went and how wisely it was spent.

I suppose my end point is this to my readers: Please do your homework when you give to organizations and charities. Some organizations are much better organized and have a better “$$ donated/$$ actually going to the cause” ratio.

I hope that I don’t come across as over-critical on my view here…

Much love, and I will soon recap my vacation… as a contrast to Morocco!