Am I part of the cure or am I part of the disease?

My PC friend, Kate, just returned from a state-side visit and admitted she was excited to get back to Africa. “America’s weird” she confessed. We half joked about a few cultural adaptations we’ve adopted, accepted, and adhered to here in Uganda that may get us on the Miss Manners hit list, if not several traffic/civil responsibility violations in the states
- Public nose picking: perfectly acceptable
- Cellphone ettiquitte: definitely acceptable to answer your phone during a sermon…. That YOU'RE giving
- Power outages: power is a gift that the gods can take away at any moment, no need to worry, just continue your dinner by light of your cellphone
- Littering- no fines, just toss it out the window of the moving bus
- Bargaining over 10 cents: it’s the “principle” of the matter, really
- A compact car seats 11 comfortably: Laws of Quantum Physics are constantly tested as we attempt to defy the theory that no 2 things can exist in the same place at the same time
- A simple nod to indicate yes- too much work, just raise the eyebrows

And while much of PC is about adapting and “cultural integration”, it leaves me wondering how “used” we are getting to life here. Am I accepting even the complacency, the apathy that this is just how life is here? Have I become ok with littering just because there are no trash receptables? Why do I just shrug when the power goes out because Uganda first sells its power to neighboring countries for a profit prior to meeting its own countries needs and demands?

Sarah and I recently traveled from the local large town, Mbarara, where we watched with annoyance as our 4 door manual Toyota filled from 6, to 8, to 10- 4 of us in front with the driver sharing the seat and reaching over a passenger to shift, and 6 people in back. As we bargained the driver down since he was overcrowding the car, a woman in back offered “You see how we suffer here? Now when you go back to your country, you will ask for more funding, more aid to help us”

If Sarah and I had room to reel around and face the woman we would have. Exhausted, squished, our heads bouncing against the roof and windows, we yelled over the blown out stereo blasting, “We’re suffering with you. Why don’t YOU demand more from your government, we do provide aid, but it lands in the pockets at the top.” The car ride was silent then, except for the blaring of the radio.

But our outburst left me thinking , if 75% of Uganda’s budget is foreign aid, people here are used to receiving handouts, aid, grants with little community participation. But what is the answer as Americans? To borrow from a cheesy Coldplay song, are we part of the cure, or are we part of the disease?

As a “development worker” I may continue eyebrow raising for passive agreement, and enjoy the freedom of public nose picking, but the real disease- the apathy, complacency and helplessness that exists with extreme poverty, is something I think we’re all here to eradicate. And just maybe our enthusiasm, awareness and support can be part of the cure.