If you're reading this, you probably already know that I'm a pasty, white girl from a small town in Virginia who's heading to, or (depending on when you read this) already placed in, Yei, South Sudan as a BVS Volunteer with RECONCILE International. Because I'm pale, prone to skin cancer, squint even when it's overcast, warm-natured and sweaty, I can honestly tell you that I haven't chosen to travel to Africa because of the weather. I'm also not doing it to satisfy my parents' expectations. My mother will probably develop an ulcer, heightened blood pressure, gray hairs and maybe mild schizophrenia over her worry and stress about my choice.
So why am I going to South Sudan? Well, I'm interested in the politics of Sub-Saharan Africa, and I'm also considering working in international development as a career. I can't really see myself having a real day job, cultivating the American Dream with a white picket fence and 2.5 children. Isn't it unfair that my life thus far has been so easy? If anyone watches Modern Family and is up to date on recent episodes, know that I relate somewhat to the character Haley Dunphy when she complains that her parents "coddled" her and made her life too empty of failure and hardship. Although this lament is obviously meant to be ironic and humorous, it also means that she has no material to go on in her college essays when they provide a prompt such as, "Write about an obstacle you've had to overcome." Not that I'm complaining about my easy, middle-class upbringing, but my parents will probably affirm that they constantly hear the phrase, "I'm bored" coming out of my mouth whenever I'm at home. Working in development would be my way of having an adventure, improving the system sustainably (hopefully, in theory) and also taking advantage of what I've been blessed to have. I love traveling and getting away from home, but also, put simply and in cliché manner, I want to help people. However, I need to qualify the connotation of the latter.
I recently had someone shake my hand and congratulate me for wanting to go to Africa and "help them" and "teach them." This comment, and many like it, sort of rubbed me the wrong way. Of course, I want to help RECONCILE in its work in South Sudan, but it will be in my capacity as an "Administrative Associate" and whatever other minor skills I may have to contribute to the man-power and organization of the office. I'm not saving the world, but I really hope to learn and collaborate with the professionals in the office and people in the community and assist them in reaching their goals. But teach them? What did this person mean with this comment, especially since I was not going to literally be working as a school teacher? I'm literate and I can use a computer, but I'm not well-fed because I skillfully cultivated the food. I can drive and get to work, but not because I engineered the vehicle or planned for the construction of the road. Yes, I vote and participate in civil society to a degree, but I wasn't there in any of the really important milestones in the creation of our political system to be able to attribute any of its functioning to my credit. So what exactly am I, a 22 year-old American girl whose parents still do her taxes, going to "teach them?" I wasn't sure what to think about this comment until I came across a TED talk done by Chimamanda Adichie, a Nigerian author.
In her talk, "the danger of a single story," Adichie illustrates several different examples of a "single story," but especially that of Africans in the perception of many Americans. The impression of Africans is often that of an "incomprehensible people, fighting... dying of poverty and AIDS, unable to speak for themselves and waiting to be saved by a kind, white foreigner." Perhaps Adichie would describe this unnerving attitude that I often encounter as "patronizing, well-meaning pity," which comes from the portrayal of a people as one thing, a single story.
The problem with the "single story" is that it creates stereotypes. "And the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete," she says. Yes, Africa is a continent replete with many catastrophes, but Adichie also notes, "there are other stories that aren't about catastrophe." To not tell a balance of both kinds of stories is to "rob people of dignity." To take this perception allows there to be "no possibility of Africans being similar to [us] in any way, no possibility of feelings more complex than pity... of a human connection." In other words, this perception "emphasizes how we are different, not alike."
Here's the link to the TED talk
Also, the link to RECONCILE's website.
I'm not really sure where else to go with this post, except to caution that I've never maintained a blog before. All I plan to achieve with it is to help communicate my thoughts and actions during the time I spend in South Sudan. I've titled it "finding other stories" because I'm attempting to find a way to communicate more than a simplified message or explanation of this region of the world, and I hope to learn and discover many of the complexities that make up the economy, developing political system and culture. This is my "Before" post. We'll see what happens once I finally get to where I'm going.
