Posts tagged with canada.

Mission Unfinished: Reflections on an internship in Bangladesh

Raksha Vasudevan, September 22, 2009 at 4:44 PM

 

 

The strangest part about being back in Canada is that it doesn't feel bizarre at all. In fact, sometimes I wonder if I ever even left, if the four months that I spent abroad were actually nothing more than an incredibly vivid dream.

All the "hard core" travellers I know had warned me about the severe culture shock that I'd experience once I arrived back to a home that, they said, wouldn't even feel like a home anymore. But that's not how things played out - once I got back, I didn't feel out of place in the clean, incredibly well-organized streets and malls, and I didn't feel like something was missing because a thousand smells and noises weren't bombarding me from all directions.

Nothing had struck me as unusual about walking down the street and being stared at, yelled at, asked for money ("Apu [meaning 'sister'], one taka!"), or asked where I'm from ("Madam, which country?").

I didn't find myself aching for the simple pleasure of taking a rickshaw ride around the neighbourhood, I didn't miss haggling over prices at the markets, and I didn't crave the sugary sweet tea that was sold by the vendors at virtually every street corner. 

And that's what shocked me. Why wasn't I feeling more out of place? Why didn't I miss the things, the ways of life, that I had learned to love? Instead of viewing this rapid adjustment as a gift, I saw it as an affront to my entire experience: Sure, I have some amazing memories and friendships that I know I'll maintain, and I really did feel like I'd made a contribution to the NGO that I'd been working for. But it wasn't enough - how could I spend four months of my life in such an enormously different part of the world and come back relatively unchanged? I felt like I'd not only let down myself, but also all of the people who had encouraged me to embark on "a life-changing journey."

But, gradually, smaller ideas that I hadn't noticed while I had been waiting for the anxiety and disorientation of reverse culture shock to hit, began to catch my attention: like what a beautiful thing it was to be able to drink water straight from the tap. And suddenly, my bed was the most toe-curlingly comfortable bed in the world. I was now dazzled by the size and almost nonsensical range of selection in supermarkets (have you ever noticed how many bathroom cleaning supplies there are? How many different products do you need to clean a bathtub anyway?). And I couldn't wait to go back to my pre-trip habit of buying a coffee in the morning, knowing that those few dollars could have fed an entire family, no matter how many times I reminded myself that that sort of thinking was irrational and hypocritical.

And bigger changes in my patterns of thought also started to make themselves known: travelling to countries where religion shades almost every aspect of daily life has made me examine my own religious beliefs and question the assumptions about life, death, people, and purpose that underlie them. I make much more of an effort to keep up-to-date about events that are unfolding in other parts of the world, rather than just gobbling down the most easily accessible news stories about North America. These acts alone have both drastically improved my understanding of "global affairs" while at the same time making me realize just how much I don't know (enough to fill a black hole).

And perhaps most importantly, rather than only feeling guilt over the poverty and lack of opportunity that face the people of developing countries, I now feel ownership.  I may not be able to solve those problems in their entirety, but that doesn't excuse me from trying to alleviate them.

I'm now working full-time for a management consulting firm here in Calgary, but I spend much of my free time volunteering for local organizations that focus on international development. I'm also considering graduate programs in development studies to prepare for entering a career in the development sector, although exactly what I'll be doing - which specific part within the sector I'll be working in - I have yet to decide.

I've seen for myself the inefficiency, excessive bureaucracy, corruption, and more, that exists within that sector, but its tremendous potential for affecting change and progress (or, in other words, "development") also inspires me in a way that nothing else ever has.

And I realize now that, more than anything, that sort of inspiration is exactly what I'd been looking for, and what everyone who'd supported me on this trip had been hoping I'd find. And the fact that I don't feel like this "mission," my mission, is complete only means that it was successful.


Tagged with development, canada, culture, shock, return, mission, reflections, inspiration | Comments (5) |

Speechless in Nairobi

Helen Hsu, May 28, 2009 at 12:23 PM

 

"Well, when they see a black person in Canada, do they not run after them and shout out 'African!'?"

 

Speechless. If there is a word that describes my sentiments since I arrived in Nairobi, Kenya, "speechless" would be it. I have experienced more in the past few weeks in Kenya than I ever would in my ordinary university life in Canada.

 

Before I came here, I listened to endless "horror stories" about Africa and Nairobi - be it sanitary conditions, security, or cultural differences. I embarked on my journey expecting nothing, except the unexpected.  However, not being easily surprised definitely does not equate with indifference. It simply means I view the events around me with mild amusement, perhaps even due to over-suppression of my original emotions.

 

I work in the slum of Mathare in Nairobi. It is allegedly the third largest slum in Africa, as more than half a million people live there. It is difficult to describe the slums; one must experience them in person. However, I can start with the overwhelming scent. I think the smell of the slums is a perfume-maker's nightmare - a blend of garbage and human sweat and excrements. There is a small bridge over a stream of black water contaminated with feces, with mountains of garbage, and people brewing alcohol in giant, rusted tin cans. There are no houses, only shelters made of panels of tin. Families of five or more live in small, cramped spaces. How small? Imagine your elementary school classrooms, and quarter that land. Forget toilets and plumbing facilities, people do their  businesses wherever, which is part of the reason the water is so contaminated. I saw a man buy a sliver of toothpaste for two shillings, the equivalent of three cents. The slum is endless in sight, leaving the most idealistic and hopeful individual with a lingering taste of garbage, poverty, and cruel reality.

 

Which leaves one to wonder "what can I do to make a difference?"

 

In contrast to the poverty in the slums, is the bustling town centre of Nairobi. International, high-end hotels such as Hilton and the Stanley - which charges 1,000 shillings for a hour of Internet use, while the cyber café across the street charges 1 shilling per minute. Business professionals in suits hurry down streets cramped with people, cars, and privately-owned vans serving as buses called matatus. The traffic is constantly insane, arguably so are the matatus drivers that swerve between lanes of opposing traffic in an attempt to get ahead. "Hawkers" populate the sides of the streets as they sell goods on their blankets. They also stir up mini-riots periodically as they throw stones as the police who try to chase them away, who in turn throw tear-gas bombs.

 

Regardless of slum or city centre, though, one thing is common. Wherever I go, I encounter shouts of "mzungu!" or "chong chong ching chong," due to my lighter skin and my Asian appearance. I still chuckle in amusement whenever someone shouts out these words to me, because I am not sure how I should respond - should I break into song and dance? I think I am starting to understand how visible minorities feel. People almost always automatically treat me differently, sometimes positively, sometimes negatively. For example, while all Kenyans have to pass through security checks at the Hilton, I go with no questions asked; because of my skin colour. At the same time, the "hawkers" will always try to rip me off, and the children will always stare in shock at me; because of my skin colour. At one point, another Dutch intern and I jokingly remarked, "Clearly, we do not deserve names! We are merely mzungus." The director of the organization we work for then replied with the quote at the beginning of this post.

 

All of this said, I must stress that Nairobi is a beautiful city. It is undergoing a period of rapid development, and like most cities going through the same process, it experiences side effects such as polluted streets, occasional chaos, and disparity between rich and poor. However, in the midst of change, there is always progress and hope. There are people working on ensuring environmental sustainability while maintaining economic growth; educating the public on sexual and reproductive health; and teaching the concept and skills of entrepreneurship to empower youths to step out of the slums. These are only some of the projects I have encountered in my brief stay here.

 

I am happy to say that while I did feel despair and shock, my speechlessness has turned into a shrug with the lovely French phrase, "C'est la vie." This is the reality. Accept it, and make it better.

Tagged with poverty, slums, nairobi, kenya, mzungu, development, canada, rich, contrast, africa | Comments (2) |