"It's a bit ridiculous that people assume just because we come from countries that have managed the issue of HIV relatively well, that we know how to manage the issue."

"Exactly, it is because our countries have managed the issues well, that I don't know anything about it!"

This was a conversation I had with an intern from the United Kingdom working for another non-governmental organization. He has been semi-coerced into giving a workshop on HIV/AIDS, but he has not received training on the issue, and felt extremely uncomfortable with the situation.

When I left Montreal to pursue my internship in Kenya, I did not expect much. I only knew that I wanted to make a positive impact on the community; and that after volunteering with HIV-positive children in Montreal, I wanted to work with the issue of HIV/AIDS through awareness and thus prevention.

However, after I attended community outreaches with my work, and ran a few sessions myself, I started to see a different picture.

While the sessions for primary schools appear to be somewhat worthwhile for the students, it is another situation for the youth. For instance, in a group session I attended, there was no need to explain what HIV/AIDS stood for, how the virus attacks the immune system, the incubation period, the window for testing, or the routes of HIV transmission. The participants knew all the answers. So how can the sessions be run in a manner that is not a waste of time for them?

There are many public and private institutions that strive to inform the public about HIV/AIDS, and by this point, Kenyans are very knowledgeable about the virus, and how to protect themselves. Instead of lecturing about the hard facts of the virus, now it is perhaps more effective to focus discussion on the stigma of AIDS, and why contraceptives are still not used, even when people understand the risks. Faced with such a knowledgeable crowd, the trainer becomes a facilitator and a question-and-answer format appears to be much more effective and enjoyable for the participants than a plain lecture style on information that has already been disseminated.

What I said to my friend at the beginning of the post was actually a paraphrase from a book called The White Man's Burden by William Easterly, which examines the ineffectiveness of foreign aid. He raises the concern of Western donors wanting to create one-size-fits-all, comprehensive, umbrella solutions without being sensitive to different cultures and realities in the field, which leads to poor implementation and aid that does not reach those who need it.

I find that my internship has been a humbling experience that makes me strongly aware of how difficult the process of "helping" can be. Without an understanding of the reality on the ground, it is almost impossible to propose any solutions that can be successfully implemented. One can have the best intentions and the greatest ideas, but if there is no need for the great idea, or if it is not feasible in the local reality due to cultural, religious, or financial limitations, then it is not useful.

For those who would like to work abroad in development work, I strongly urge you to spend time with the locals from the area, immerse and understand the culture, and then discover how you can make your own unique contribution in that community to maximize your impact.  

What do you think of a man who robs you? Or a prostitute?

Have you ever thought of why people break the law?

I'm not trying to justify such acts. That is not what I am trying to communicate. It is merely thought-provoking to see the other side of the story.

It is easy to think of "thugs" and robbers as cold-hearted bastards who just want to hurt you and take your belongings. It is easy to look down on them, and classify them as "bad people".

But are they really?

A few weeks ago there was an attempted robbery in an upscale neighbourhood in Nairobi. The robbers were shot by the police. I discovered there are only two degrees of separation between me and those men: some young people at my centre went to school with those robbers.

And they tell me this is a common story. A few years ago, some youths tried to rob a matatu (a kind of shared taxi) and were shot by a police officer who happened to be in the vehicle.

They tell me that in high school, sometimes their classmates would disappear for a few days, presumably to make a living this way.

They tell me that if you have no money ... really have no money ... then the easiest thing to do is to take a gun and rob someone.

Same story goes for young girls in the slums whose parents cannot afford their education, and they have no means of financial independence. The easiest and fastest sell for them is sex.

But at this point I am reminded of a video clip by the Canadian comedian Stewart Knight, called No excuses: "Whatever excuse you give me, I can give you 50 people that could've given me the same excuse, but didn't."

Poverty is a great motivation for crime and prostitution, but for every person who was driven by poverty to crime, there are many more who chose to escape another way.

Many of my friends at the youth centre come from similar circumstances. However, they chose to volunteer their time and acquire as many miscellaneous skills as possible - from driving, to computer design, to visual art, to peer youth education. Eventually, those skills got them paying jobs.

I also hear of robbers who, upon taking the phone and wallet of the person they are robbing, decide that the person should have fare to go home, and give back some of the money.

There are also robbers who return the bag and SIM card of the women they rob, and only take the valuables.

It is interesting to hear these stories that challenge traditional views of robbery. Maybe it's just important to remember to never dehumanize anyone or to dismiss their motivations. They are only human, and so are we.

It is a complex world we live in, but I am starting to believe more and more that our lives are shaped by our choices and our decisions, rather than our circumstances.

After two months in Kenya, I experienced an unexpected culture shock.

It was not the living conditions in the slums, or the policemen who take leisurely strolls around town holding their giant rifles, or the riots, or the tear gas from the riots, that gave me this unsettling sentiment; but the lavish lifestyle of the wealthy.

Recently, my work - the Youth Centre-Nairobi - ran a VCT and clinic outreach program in a small slum called Mitumba to provide testing and curative services to the local population.

The informal settlement houses around 4,000 residents, and there exists a jarring contrast between the settlement itself, and the fancy, Western-style housing - equipped with satellite dishes - directly adjacent. They are separated merely by a wall with barbed wires.

It is a well-known fact that almost every upper- and middle-class residential area in Nairobi has a slum nearby, but this is the first time I witnessed such proximity. An irony lies in the fact that many slums exist due to the beautiful residential area next door - these are the workers, and their families, who were hired to construct those houses; and it is more economical for them to build their own shacks next to work rather than commute on a daily basis.

Much aid has been poured into the larger, famous slums such as Kibera and Mathare, but the smaller slums such as Mitumba are still neglected. There are no water pipes or electrical wiring running through the area, nor is there proper waste or sewage treatment. The lack of access to clean drinking water has led to a cholera outbreak. It is one thing to read about cholera in "Love in the Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and it is another to be told explicitly to avoid food from the area due to the possibility of contracting the disease.

On the open field where we set up our tents, one could see a giant water tank. It was a project initiated by the local MP to give the community a means of storing water. Unfortunately, the project was never completed, due allegedly to corruption, and now the walls are cracked in ruins. I am still not sure how to reconcile this image with the beautiful houses on the other side of the wall.

The next day, I attended a meeting at a place called Village Market elsewhere in town. I was not prepared for what I saw - a large-scale mall with architecture reminiscent of that found in sunny California: an open-concept verandah with food courts selling dishes at double or triple what I spend weekly on food; fashionably dressed "wazungus" walking around with sunglasses and high heels; high-end retail stores such as Mango that are found in North America; and fountains. Fountains for aesthetic purposes with free-flowing water. And two koi ponds. The entire city of Nairobi suffers from water shortage problems with water frequently and regularly cut to many parts, but this mall, catering to wealthy locals and foreigners, has water for fish.

In Mitumba, I could not eat, because of the looks the children would give me as I ate. We gave a banana to a small boy (at left is a photo of him eating the banana).

I know the world is not just, but reading about injustice and inequality on paper, and witnessing it within 24 hours, are completely different stories. I have not shaken the haunting emotional impact of experiencing Village Market right after Mitumba, and I hope I do not forget it.

I never before grasped the great fortune of having the ability to drink the water that comes out of my tap. I cannot say I really do now, either. I have only caught a glimpse of the other side, and only begun to grasp how lucky I am, how lucky we all are.