Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Redefining What it Means to Help


Giving in Uganda has been a rather tricky matter. I learned very quickly that it requires a very strategic approach, for several reasons of which I'm only beginning to scratch the surface of understanding. Two things caught my attention and provoked further questioning: the reaction from the people directed towards those who can potentially provide and knowledge of large-scale corruption and mismanagement throughout Uganda.


Ugandans in the southwest were relentless about giving attention to those whom they identified as a foreigner or muzungu, commonly someone with light skin. Their expectations were so high for us to give them something, anything. I could clearly see that a muzungu's presence very quickly induced this idea of an opportunity for money or other donations. What had happened here in Uganda that so many of the locals were behaving in this way? And how deeply rooted were these associations?

My response was hesitation. In fact, I refrained altogether from offering anything. Even if I gave something small, something of little monetary value such as leftover food, it could easily provoke others to come expecting the same. I didn't want to further inflate this skewed association with foreigners and money.

Or from the locals' perspective, was it really so skewed for so many to be thinking in this way?

Help, as I was learning, is not only about giving something tangible; it involves so much more. Notably, patience and a willingness to listen well and engage with communities. It wasn't that these people weren't starving for help of some kind, but it clearly required a catered, well thought out approach.




Hearing it from the Ugandans: What approach they prefer for international aid organizations

It seemed so simple, yet I get the impression many are either unwilling to do it or they are unaware: go to the communities. How can you possibly have a clue as to what's best without first hearing it from the people?

This approach is commonly termed community-based. At times, I think I take it for granted that I've always firmly believed this is generally the best approach. The bulk of my public health knowledge stems from experiences abroad and meaningful interactions with Child Family Health International (CFHI), a nongovernmental organization sincerely and unconditionally committed to working at the grassroots level with international communities. Fortunately, this is all I've ever known. KIHEFO, whom CFHI has recently partnered with in Uganda, shares the same ideals and works deep within rural communities in the Kigezi region.

Robert, KIHEFO's Community Organizer, stressed that, "You need to work directly with the communities and you will see change. Many organizations in Uganda are seeking accountability for being here; wanting to give the impression that they're doing something, but they never reach the communities." He reminded us that the current government allows organizations to come into the country freely with very little oversight. This means projects can easily be implemented and target groups can be reached.


Family in the village of Nyakiju
Corruption: a national disease

If you ask Ugandans what one of their primary challenges are as a nation wanting to make improvements, there's a good chance they'll say corruption. Mismanagement, a form of corruption, is a term widely used and is an almost immediate response to identify why things are not getting better or efforts are prolonged. For example, funds allocated for a certain purpose, whether for health, education, or other means of development, never seem to reach the lower tiers of the implementation system-the rural elite, who typically live in urban centers outside their home villages, and the people dwelling in rural communities. If funds enter through the top, placed initially in government hands, there is a strong possibility that they will not trickle down and will silently be put in deep pockets.

The system is laden with greed and mistrust.

Dr. Geoffrey decided long ago to leave the government to its own devices and move forward on his own. He certainly chose the harder path, but knowing very well that the right decisions are often the more difficult ones and require great patience, discipline, and consistent hard work. KIHEFO is functioning well as a private development organization, operating in complete contrast to the government's usual tactics and even serving as a means to expose their weaknesses to Ugandans. Meeting the needs of the community is undoubtedly no easy task, but KIHEFO is better off not being hels prisoner to the government's corrupt system.

I began to hear the word corruption mentioned frequently and was beginning to feel the weight of frustration and disappointment shared with so many Ugandans, as they endured hardships that should not have lasted for as long as they have been. It was very disheartening.

Corruption is arguably very common, but it's important to differentiate between those doing good-acting ethically-from those doing wrong. Although feelings of mistrust may linger, it must not be forgotten that there are many inspiring things taking place within the country and many people with the best of intentions to contribute well and make improvements.

High demands from the Batwa Community

A member of the Batwa community who came for HIV testing and family planning counseling.
I traveled with KIHEFO's HIV Outreach team to the Kisoro District to perform testing and provide counseling to an indigenous community known as the Batwa. The story goes that the Batwa, one of Uganda's last remaining indigenous groups who are also known as pygmies, were authorized to leave their homes and life as they knew it inside the Echuya Forest by the Ugandan government in 1990. Ugandan officials, as well as international and national conservation organizations, felt the Batwa were a threat to wild animals living within the forest, most notably the mountain gorillas. The last two decades have been a treacherous road for the Batwa, forced to integrate with the local Bakiga population and develop new means of livelihood, significantly different than how they survived as so called forest people.

Nature Uganda, a national conservation organization, contracted KIHEFO to provide health development services in conjunction with their work aiding the Batwa in the process of resettlement. High rates of HIV/AIDS were detected needed to be addressed. "In addressing environmental preservation and relocating people you have to assist them in surviving. The Batwa are the poorest of the poor," explained Zeneb from Nature Uganda.

KIHEFO set up their mobile HIV clinic inside a local resource center. I was quickly learning that any space can be used to do work; sometimes a community member's home or a church. The people trickled in as usual and once word had begun to spread of the purpose of KIHEFO's visit, others followed suit.

Sister Beatrice inside the resource center ready to counsel on HIV and family planning.
The day posed many challenges. Zeneb briefed us that in the ten years Nature Uganda has been working with the Batwa they have been a very stubborn group who have shown no shame in begging for money and are also likely to spend the majority, if not all, of household income on alcohol. This description just about fit the bill.

I smelt alcohol on the breath of a good number of the men, and sadly even the women. Some publicly demanded why KIHEFO needed their blood, others simply refused to be tested. They also felt that they were doing a favor for KIHEFO and Nature Uganda by participating and wanted a sizeable stipend in return. It couldn't be that KIHEFO had driven nearly three hours to give time towards improving the health of the community and were providing them a valuable service free of charge. What happened to gratitude?

Trina reminded me that, "It's not always assumed everyone wants to be helped."

KIHEFO was unwilling to offer a stipend, knowing very well that this is not sustainable practice and only encourages bad habits that are counterproductive to teaching people how to help themselves, but Nature Uganda felt otherwise and offered 1000 USh to each person that complied. Although Nature Uganda had offered suggestions as to how the money could be well spent, it was very clear that this money was being put to good use in the local bar down the street. Groups of men who were already noticeably drunk by mid afternoon began stumbling into the resource center looking primarily for a pay off.

The day was fraught with demands for money and the Batwa were just the final straw. Whether it was children running after our vehicle shouting muzungu or others walking along the roads constantly reacting as we drove past, market dwellers swarming the vehicle as we stopped for local produce, and finally some members of the Batwa expecting money for an outreach event that was meant to benefit them. I arrived home feeling exhausted and confused. In a way, it seemed the Batwa felt that they were helping us achieve our agendas and because we needed them to do that they should be fairly compensated.

There was so much to think about. I came to Uganda with good intentions to learn and to place emphasis on the knowledge of the local community. Helping has become a bit of a blurred term for me and it began to take shape in new and unexpected ways during my time here. For the moment, I'll settle on the idea that the best kind of help is teaching others how to help themselves and this, in itself, takes so much time and commitment. The learning process for everybody involved is so great.

CFHI has taught me over the last several years to let go of the idea of saving the world. It's misleading to think that we, as Westerners, will always be the ones giving and have the most to contribute. It's more of an exchange and both parties need to take great care with one another's perspectives.

Be open to helping in ways you didn't expect.

Lilian, a social worker from KIHEFO, on our visit to a Batwa home.

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