Twiga

I ran into Twiga on the street a few weeks ago. She is Tanzanian and runs a high-end African antique store in Presidio Heights. Behind the exotic looks, there is always a thread of arrogance feel to her, but I would go to her store once in a while anyway as I really enjoyed the nice collections in her store.

As we walked towards her store, I told her about the volunteer experience I had recently in Tanzania. She mentioned that she just had a fund-raising party and asked me what I did in Africa. As I was giving her the background of my project, she interrupted me several time,

“What did you teach the farmers?” She asked repeatedly and wanted to get to the bottom of it before I finished giving her the background of the project and challenges of the villagers.

“Well, the first thing we taught them was composting to improve the soil and increase yield.” I finally told her.

“You know…. I am very angry with my government for letting just anyone go to Tanzania.” She said.

I sensed what she was getting at.

“People shouldn’t be going to Tanzania like going to the toilets.” She said.

I was aware that Arusha is swamped with NGOs and young and old volunteers through volunteer vacations.

“Tanzanians are nice, and they open their houses to these people who take advantage of them. Most people don’t even understand the culture or what’s going on in the village.” She continued.

I was a bit confused and was debating if I should point out the many frauds by the locals against volunteers that I have experienced or witnessed personally.

“People shouldn’t be going to Tanzania like going to the toilets.” She repeated.

“Strong choice of words” I thought.

I was curious about her experience with the foreign-aid agencies and volunteers but our conversation was cut short as several customers came in.

I walked out of her store thinking how ironic it was that she feels as strongly about the NGOs and volunteers as I feel about the locals who have taken advantage of the foreigners who went there to provide assistance to Tanzanians. This is just another example of the complexity of the charity work in Africa.

I didn’t have a chance to tell her that I am working on a book about my experience in Tanzania in order to raise additional fund for the project. After a big chunk of the donation money was embezzled by a local, I decided to fund the project on my own. It’s already disheartening to have the money stolen that I couldn’t bear the guilt of letting the donors down again. In spite of several disappointments, I intend to keep my promise to the farmers to help them achieve food sufficiency.

So I am dedicating my book to those who have opened my eyes through their dedication, kindness, greed and their suffering.