Géillim milséan
on Colm in Kenya (Kenya), 15/Dec/2010 16:04, 34 days ago
Eric works in the local gym in Kilifi. He’s a 5ft 8, lumbering giant with arms the size of small children. By small children I mean, ten year old boys with big appetites. These arms deserve a chapter in some medical journal. They’re enormous, ridiculous, titanic.Last week I suggested to Eric that he take advantage of his extraordinary girth (easy) and enter into Mr Tembo 2010, an annual body building event in Mombasa.“Ah no, I cant, I don’t have The Cuts” he says to me with a shrug and wry grin. You see, while Erics arms are Russian and Qatari Brown Envelope in size, they do not have rosette merit worthy definition i.e. The Cuts.Eric goes to leave when suddenly, a light bulb flashes over his head and he stops, squares me up and says to me -“Colm, do you know how I can get The Cuts?”A knife? Mail order? A russian website? I know what he is getting at but I decide to play dumb.“No idea Eric, how would I know, sure I’m only little” arms like a 10 year old girl arms me. But I’m not getting a way that easily. I get a prompt...“But some protein supplements or something? (Wink, nudge) Do you (now) know how I can get The Cuts?” He gives me a ‘do you see what I’m getting at’ look.I'm supposed to be hearing: Oh like can I buy these for you because I’m white?But I aint picking up what Eric is putting down, playing dumb as served me so well up to now (cough).“Give me a marker Eric and I can draw them on for you buddy. Otherwise, I’m the wrong guy to ask?”“Ha ha, you’re a funny guy Colm”Translation: tight arse muzungo wont give me money.……………………………………………………………………………………………………………....................................Every morning that I walk to work through the village I am greeted by kids screaming Jambo at me. It makes my day everytime. A dirty, nappy clad infant with a huge smile, tiny hands and first words to strange white guy‘Ambooo’. Come here till I eat you.Last week, two boys about ten (may well of been eric’s arms released for the day) pass me and instead of saying Jambo, they say “Give me sweet”. (‘Sweet’ said in two syllables “Swe-Eet”, cute. “No-oh” not so cute.)I say“No,yougive me a sweet”One of the boy’s panic, the other is just confused by this response, repeats the question like as if he was misunderstood.“Give me Swe-Eet”“No, you give me a sweet” I insist, hand out.One boy looks at the other and shrugs. Looks at me and think‘this one must be one of them Irish mzungu’s, their broke ass bitches. Perhaps he does need a sweet more than me’. Finally one of them says“Kesho (tomorrow)” and they quickly walk away, looking over their shoulder to make sure weird muzungo is not following them.This“Give me Swe-Eet” or just “Caramela” if they think I’m Italian (sallow skin and smoldering Latin looks, it’s not difficult to see this mistake being made) is not new. But it does become more popular closer to high tourist season and in bigger resort towns – Diani, Watamu and Malindi.White people trying to do nice by giving cute, poor african children sweets. Name me any other continent where visiting a school is as big a tourist activity then it is in Africa.“Hey! Yeah, off to Dublin for the week next week. Visit a few museums, sit in the pub where Ulysses was written and visit a school in Finglas and hand out sweets.”“Oh yeah, I did that in Washington when I visited last year”Puck me Fink.The biggest thing that annoys me about Kenya is people stereotyping me as having money. Therefore, I’m willing to dole it out to anyone who asks – like Eric.We’ve created this stereotype. Us, stupid dumb-ass white people, not anyone else. A creation borne out of guilt and a self-serving need to help the poor Africans and a romantic, sexy, utopian ideal. We believe the desire to do good equals doing good and that makes us feel good.Youth Groups and NGO’s don’t ask me to help them write business plans, they ask me to help them write grant proposals. When we organise events and provide t-shirts, people who have nothing to do with event voice huge disapproval when they don’t get a t-shirt – a hand out, merited or not, is expected. We did this, do this.Big NGO’s give huge million pound grants to spent over 1 year (impossible) not because it will have an impact, but because it needs to be distributed. Our Quantity not Quality approach is breeding ground for the hand-out generation.I hate stereotypes. I hate mine here. But I cant blame anyone here for it. It’s not their fault.I’m going for Christmas on Sunday (yipee!), I’ll bring sweets and some notes to share on how to write proposals to donor agencies. Ireland is really poor these days – living standards at 2003 levels they say. Imagine!