If I Could Change The World

Written March 7, 08

I’m in the Peace Corps; questions of poverty, of development, of change, and of well, saving the world are part and parcel of my existence. And, when I came, I thought I had a handle on them. If a liberal arts degree is good for anything, it must be saving the world, right?

Maybe it’s the time, the place, or perhaps even me, but the longer I’m here the less I feel like I know. Poverty for me has largely been defined as Africa. Dire poverty—defined as a person living on less than a dollar a day—is readily apparent in the sweeping slums of Kibera and in the subsistence farms with its maize and mchicha. There is a decided lack of things—health care, electricity, water, food, and education.

The poverty that I am discovering here is no less dire, in the sense that people are still living on less than a dollar a day, but it’s masked in some ways. The government provides free natural gas, electricity, salt, and flour. Gasoline is heavily subsidized as well. The health care and education systems may not be perfect, but they are here. On Thursday, a child came into my clinic after drinking gasoline. The children’s specialist at the clinic was able to flush his system, and he’s doing fine. I’m not sure that would happen in Africa.

These things, though good (I wouldn’t have wanted to spend this past winter in the absence of free heat), mask a lot of problems. In Turkmenistan, a person living on less than a dollar a day, will live in a house, probably of pretty strong construction; they will likely have a television and satellite dish; and they may even have a car. What they probably don’t have is a job because they don’t have the connections to get one or they don’t live where the moneys going. It’s frustrating and a bit sad.

In terms of development, the ideas are stuck in concepts of toys and trappings than in meaningful sustained growth. My director, for example, has told me repeatedly that the only thing the clinic needs is a computer (no one in my clinic knows how to use one and the power surges frequently). I had almost discounted him, thinking I’d have to work around him rather than with him. Then, on my programming site visit, my program manager gently and gracefully steered him away from the computer. She asked him what was needed, and he laid out a very thoughtful proposal for a water system that would bring running water to the maternity ward. My director is smart, observant, and knows what’s needed, so why did he prioritize the computer first?!?!

Of change: A fellow volunteer is fond of this joke. ‘How many Peace Corps volunteers does it take to change a light bulb?’ ‘None, Peace Corps Volunteers never change anything.’ I hope that’s not true, but at the ground, where I am, so much seems impossible. I know I’m not supposed to change things, I am supposed to empower others to change (sustain), but that seems much harder.

In rereading, I find myself coming off as discouraged, marginally depressed even. I’m not; I’m mostly taking stock of where I find myself almost 6 of my 27 months in this country. The rose colored glasses may be fading, and that’s probably even a good thing. They make things pretty, but they make it hard to see clearly.