Closure
on It began in Africa (Kenya), 05/Apr/2012 07:25, 34 days ago
Last week I finished my VSO placement. It’s a strange feeling, not least because it’s been more of a whimper than a bang: a handful of unfinished tasks linger on, reports await review (indefinitely) and many more projects, ideas, enthusiasms and whims remain firmly parked at the wayside of inertia.As part of my efforts to a) get some resolution and b) (hopefully) get a job in the next few months, I wrote a list of my achievements during my placement. I was pleasantly surprised by its solidity and feel confident it looks good on paper, even if I know that every firmly stated deliverable could, in reality, be caveated a dozen or more times.Such, I fear, is the lot of the development worker. The ubiquitous reports scream: We got children into school! We gave a village clean drinking water! We stopped people killing each other! Never mentioning that the children have only one text book learned by rote, the well is three miles from the village and parents still sleep with a machete under the bed just-in-case.Not that such cynicism means nothing is changing: Ihavedone some useful things through my placement–for example, KAIH now has a stock of case studies and about ten people who know how to write more; it’s just that the successes are tiny increments, babies’ footprints, that could just as easily peter off as they could gather pace, gain strength and become a run.With successes that are, if not meagre, then certainly fragile, my brain has turned to the other side of the coin. What have I learned? Not just about development work, Kenyan colleagues and meetings that make me want to stab forks in my legs to stay awake; what have I learned about life and well, you know… stuff? All that CV malarkey is fine and dandy, but what did I win?1. Elephants and giraffes never cease to be awesome, no matter how many times you see them.See? Awesome2. Looking different from everyone else is hard. I understand much more why particular communities tend to congregate in certain areas– whether NGO expats in Nairobi, Brits on the Costa del Sol or Muslims in Bradford. It is natural and human to want to feel “normal” and inconspicuous, to miss foods from home, to want to speak to someone who will understand your cultural references – the nuances and touchstones of a sharedlanguage.Spot the Mzungu. Not exactly 'Where's Wally?', is it?3. British people are unfriendly. We put up barriers wherever we turn– class labels, i-pod headphones, newspapers, scowls, umbrellas, A-Zs. Kenyans think us mzungus are hilarious with our love of maps –‘ just ask someone the way’ their puzzled faces suggest. Why do we hate speaking to each other so much?4. Canadians drink a lot. More than me. Really. They also like tattoos.5. Having a society that questions authority is a good thing. Lippy teenagers, troublesome journalists and even grumpy old men complaining about their bin collections– all good for a society. The UK education system, believe it or not, is actually great at encouraging young people to interrogate, analyse and consider.6. It is possible to have a handshake so hearty that it crushes bone. More than one Kenyan of my acquaintance has to be greeted with caution.7. Good friends can change everything.Me, Erin and Heather trying to dry our bums halfway up Mount Kenya. It rained solidly all day and could have been horrendous but my enduring memory is this moment, because it made us all laugh.8. Growing up without loads of“stuff” isn’t the worst thing; the sad part is when you see people who can’t reach beyond the present moment because they have been let down so badly by their world that they have no sense of agency. Believing that one day you will be able to take charge, even just a little, is worth a parking lot full of Ferraris.9. Contrarily, I have been reminded that I rather like nice things. Not the pointless nonsense peddled in the glossies (A recent Sunday Times corker:“What we love: luxury tees” For £165. WTF?). But just a little dash ofqualityputs a smile on my face. It matters to me that people have cared about how something is made; that they want it to last. A bottle of Chanel, a bed that doesn’t fall apart, a building someone has really designed: these things are about aspiration – in the best sense of the word - and I like that.10. Hand washing jeans and  towels is really hard.11. I enjoy being around people who are interested in how the world works and want to tinker with the mechanics. Shaking our heads over the news is not enough: complex problems deserve our attention and reward that attention tenfold.12. There is nothing more alluring to a man than a pair of sturdy sandals and a dab of mosquito repellent behind each ear. At least that's the only reason I can come up with to explain why Eddie chose 2011 as the year to propose to me. Maybe I should seek confirmation on this one...Cliché it may be, but I do believe that the experiences of the last 18 months have changed me for the better: made me tougher, more resilient, more sure of my judgment and instincts. I don’t believe they have made me kinder; my innate British cynicism remains much as it ever was and I have met at least as many con artists as I have saviours, as many bastards as I have warm friends, and I am not in the least surprised by that. But I have a lot of hope for the world and I, for one, plan to keep on trying to make things better.