basic human decency
i am out of breath. and i am irate.
i have run to the nearest internet cafe here in Mwanza.
i am not just irate, i am also sad.
i'm not clever or patient enough, nor do i have a good enough memory, to maintain a database of quotes, either on paper or in my head.
but i'm sure that there's is a really good quote out there, somewhere, about how all of lifes problems stem from one basic thing: money.
or maybe two basic things, lest i forget about love, though sometimes i feel the two [money and love] go way more hand in hand than they should...
examples of this, i see them every day. people starving without money, people killing over money, relationships ruined, etc etc.
now, granted, Tanzania is a far poorer country than the USA, so in some ways this is amplified here (i.e. money for survival). At the same time, the profound sense of community and deeply-entrenched attitudes and effects of socialism on Tanzanian society also sometimes make me think that money is not nearly as big a deal as it is in the states.
back to my story. i had a meeting in mwanza today, it went well, nothing unusual.
i left the office, and started walking towards my favorite restaurant, a pizzeria, though i rarely get the pizza, i like the fresh fruit and bread rolls.
as always, the streets were bustling with people selling newspapers, handkerchiefs, etc [i.e. all those people who were rioting last week were back at business].
and then it happened.
one young man, walking directly in front of me, dropped what can only be described as a large roll of cash. or perhaps another way to describe it would be 'wad.' on top was a 2,000 shilling bill, inside i can only guess.
i would say, in approximation, he dropped about 200,000 to 300,000 shillings. could've been as little as 100k, or as much as 500k.
by the way, the average Tanzanian's income is less than 1 dollar a day, so that's less than 300,000 a year. granted in the city it's a bit higher, but not necessarily much.
thus, this young man dropped a year's salary on the street, and i stopped in my tracks.
then another young man, in much rattier clothes, picked it up and looked at me. i looked at him. his eyes seemed to say it already, but he quietly told me 'chill'.
i looked back, and i think my eyes spoke too: 'that money is not yours.'
he grabbed my hand, and we stopped in place. he asked me to stay quiet. in the meantime, the other young man started feeling in his pockets (he was muslim, wearing a full-length robe that i'm not sure of the name), and turned back to look for his cash.
he was panicking.
i would have too.
so he passed by us, and without talking, still hand-in-hand, i walked with the second guy to follow after him, and began calling out 'brother, brother'. he who found it was obviously more reluctant, but i did not have to drag him, and he eventually was the one who got the other man's attention.
so the loser turned around and we approached him, and i said simply 'you dropped this.'
i was prepared to make a comment on the generosity of the finder, when the loser said, without provocation, forcefully,
"i'm not giving up even 100 shillings" [equivalent: less than a dime]
he stormed away.
the finder looked at me, and again his eyes had words for me: "happy now?!"
he began walking away.
i was torn. half of me wanted to follow the loser and CHEW HIM OUT for being such an asshole.
[i have been advised to reduce my use of profanity in this blog to better represent PC, but i am sorry, for me the use of 'asshole' is a mild version of how i could express my feelings for this guy]
the other half, which won out, followed the finder, called out to him, and while reaching in my pocket beggingly pleaded to him "let's not steal from each other, right? at the end of the day, everyone will be broke". i gave him 1,000 shillings, he tersely thanked me, and walked away.
that was the end of it.
i'm trying to remember how this sort of thing might play out in the states. i guess it depends on where and who and when. at home, in wisconsin, wallets are turned into information desks of department stores when found in parking lots, at least sometimes.
in chicago - probably not so much.
but back to here and now. i am still shaking writing about this, i didn't think i could feel this strongly. this guy, the finder, though reluctant, knew that the decent thing to do would be to return this money that was not his to it's rightful owner. i encouraged this, and while it is likely he would not have given it back had i not been there, i in no way forced him to do so.
the loser? a young man, probably sent by his boss to make a bank deposit or something of the like, how does he show his appreciation? by telling us to piss off.
i am sure, guaranteed, that the finder will never again take the good-samaritan route.
and that makes me sad.
and mad.
and so i think i'll go home and talk to some TZ friends about this.
and then try to forget about how i turned one man's lucky day into the fish that got away, and saved the ass of another who turned out to be an ungrateful prick, who didn't even say thanks.
my faith in humanity, reaffirmed and rechallenged in the span of 1 minute.
**a short postscript to this entry. i feel the need to assure clarity of message to readers of this blog. in this post, i in no way have lost faith in Tanzanians, or Africans, or etc. To the contrary, i am still more than convinced that the Tanzanians I have met and know, and even some strangers I don't, are far more kind and friendly and decent than, say, New Yorkers. Sorry New Yorkers, but it's true, you're worse than Chicagoans, and that's why i've singled you out. But even Chicagoans, i'm not sure they can compare to many of the Tanzanians i meet.
So this story could've taken place in Chicago, or Stevens Point, or anywhere else. but it happened here, so i wrote about it. please don't read into it any cultural assumptions, or make collective assessments of the people here. it wouldn't be fair.
***and finally, though this incident has taken up an entire entry, it only reflects the last 10 minutes of my life here. other than that, things are good - i had a fun trip into a village, a description of which you can find in Andrews blog, link to the right. work at the teachers training college is going well, life in Misungwi is pleasantly normal, rain is more frequent and electricity is - dare i jinx it by saying - back on, on a regular basis. and that is the REST of my life, in a nutshell.
i have run to the nearest internet cafe here in Mwanza.
i am not just irate, i am also sad.
i'm not clever or patient enough, nor do i have a good enough memory, to maintain a database of quotes, either on paper or in my head.
but i'm sure that there's is a really good quote out there, somewhere, about how all of lifes problems stem from one basic thing: money.
or maybe two basic things, lest i forget about love, though sometimes i feel the two [money and love] go way more hand in hand than they should...
examples of this, i see them every day. people starving without money, people killing over money, relationships ruined, etc etc.
now, granted, Tanzania is a far poorer country than the USA, so in some ways this is amplified here (i.e. money for survival). At the same time, the profound sense of community and deeply-entrenched attitudes and effects of socialism on Tanzanian society also sometimes make me think that money is not nearly as big a deal as it is in the states.
back to my story. i had a meeting in mwanza today, it went well, nothing unusual.
i left the office, and started walking towards my favorite restaurant, a pizzeria, though i rarely get the pizza, i like the fresh fruit and bread rolls.
as always, the streets were bustling with people selling newspapers, handkerchiefs, etc [i.e. all those people who were rioting last week were back at business].
and then it happened.
one young man, walking directly in front of me, dropped what can only be described as a large roll of cash. or perhaps another way to describe it would be 'wad.' on top was a 2,000 shilling bill, inside i can only guess.
i would say, in approximation, he dropped about 200,000 to 300,000 shillings. could've been as little as 100k, or as much as 500k.
by the way, the average Tanzanian's income is less than 1 dollar a day, so that's less than 300,000 a year. granted in the city it's a bit higher, but not necessarily much.
thus, this young man dropped a year's salary on the street, and i stopped in my tracks.
then another young man, in much rattier clothes, picked it up and looked at me. i looked at him. his eyes seemed to say it already, but he quietly told me 'chill'.
i looked back, and i think my eyes spoke too: 'that money is not yours.'
he grabbed my hand, and we stopped in place. he asked me to stay quiet. in the meantime, the other young man started feeling in his pockets (he was muslim, wearing a full-length robe that i'm not sure of the name), and turned back to look for his cash.
he was panicking.
i would have too.
so he passed by us, and without talking, still hand-in-hand, i walked with the second guy to follow after him, and began calling out 'brother, brother'. he who found it was obviously more reluctant, but i did not have to drag him, and he eventually was the one who got the other man's attention.
so the loser turned around and we approached him, and i said simply 'you dropped this.'
i was prepared to make a comment on the generosity of the finder, when the loser said, without provocation, forcefully,
"i'm not giving up even 100 shillings" [equivalent: less than a dime]
he stormed away.
the finder looked at me, and again his eyes had words for me: "happy now?!"
he began walking away.
i was torn. half of me wanted to follow the loser and CHEW HIM OUT for being such an asshole.
[i have been advised to reduce my use of profanity in this blog to better represent PC, but i am sorry, for me the use of 'asshole' is a mild version of how i could express my feelings for this guy]
the other half, which won out, followed the finder, called out to him, and while reaching in my pocket beggingly pleaded to him "let's not steal from each other, right? at the end of the day, everyone will be broke". i gave him 1,000 shillings, he tersely thanked me, and walked away.
that was the end of it.
i'm trying to remember how this sort of thing might play out in the states. i guess it depends on where and who and when. at home, in wisconsin, wallets are turned into information desks of department stores when found in parking lots, at least sometimes.
in chicago - probably not so much.
but back to here and now. i am still shaking writing about this, i didn't think i could feel this strongly. this guy, the finder, though reluctant, knew that the decent thing to do would be to return this money that was not his to it's rightful owner. i encouraged this, and while it is likely he would not have given it back had i not been there, i in no way forced him to do so.
the loser? a young man, probably sent by his boss to make a bank deposit or something of the like, how does he show his appreciation? by telling us to piss off.
i am sure, guaranteed, that the finder will never again take the good-samaritan route.
and that makes me sad.
and mad.
and so i think i'll go home and talk to some TZ friends about this.
and then try to forget about how i turned one man's lucky day into the fish that got away, and saved the ass of another who turned out to be an ungrateful prick, who didn't even say thanks.
my faith in humanity, reaffirmed and rechallenged in the span of 1 minute.
**a short postscript to this entry. i feel the need to assure clarity of message to readers of this blog. in this post, i in no way have lost faith in Tanzanians, or Africans, or etc. To the contrary, i am still more than convinced that the Tanzanians I have met and know, and even some strangers I don't, are far more kind and friendly and decent than, say, New Yorkers. Sorry New Yorkers, but it's true, you're worse than Chicagoans, and that's why i've singled you out. But even Chicagoans, i'm not sure they can compare to many of the Tanzanians i meet.
So this story could've taken place in Chicago, or Stevens Point, or anywhere else. but it happened here, so i wrote about it. please don't read into it any cultural assumptions, or make collective assessments of the people here. it wouldn't be fair.
***and finally, though this incident has taken up an entire entry, it only reflects the last 10 minutes of my life here. other than that, things are good - i had a fun trip into a village, a description of which you can find in Andrews blog, link to the right. work at the teachers training college is going well, life in Misungwi is pleasantly normal, rain is more frequent and electricity is - dare i jinx it by saying - back on, on a regular basis. and that is the REST of my life, in a nutshell.
posted by Brian at
1:21 PM
1 Comments:
Brian, may I add another element to your list? It's "respect"...just like money and love, it can be offered or stolen or hoarded, and what a difference each decision/position makes. Yes, in the span of a minute! I'm very proud of your efforts and of you. You inspire me to be a better person more often than you know! I'll think of you during the Peace March in Stevens Point tomorrow, with love and respect (the money, well, I'm saving it for our trip to visit you:)
Love,
Mom
By
Anonymous, at 3/18/2006 6:02 AM
Post a Comment
<< Home