In defense of Uganda:
Let’s talk about the good.
I recently read a Facebook post enumerating the shortcomings of African men and women from an individual who had been in Uganda for less than a month. The post shared the big takeaway from her brief visit: Thank God I don’t live here.
The post focused on gender-inequality specifically:
“Africa has not developed into the country that it could be as egos and pissing contests are not working… Men run the country and completely ignore the minds and voices of women.”
“Men are right, women are wrong. Men are in charge, yet they do a disastrous job… I want to bring [the women] to America and save them from this.”
“I’d be killed within a weeks’ time I’m certain. On the other hand, I think I’d inspire these women to demand more.”
It goes on.
Now, frankly, in a conversation with a recently arrived volunteer, this kind of reaction would not be all that surprising. Snap, broad-strokes judgments through an ethnocentric lens are all part of the growing process (and the “white-savior complex” is its own animal that I’ll leave for a later post). File it under "culture shock"; many will tend to see a blanket bad before being able to appreciate the interwoven good, myself included. It's normal. In fact, "one scientific study looked at college students from the UK who did short-term volunteer programs in the developing world, and found that rather than lessen their racist instincts, it actually reinforced and made them stronger. The idea is that two weeks or a month is just enough time to go, have your stereotypes confirmed (poor sanitary habits, illiterate, superstitious, whatever) and to come back before learning otherwise. But those short-term people believe those things even more fully because now THEY’VE SEEN IT ALL WITH YOUR OWN EYES AND IT’S TRUE." - Source
In fact, it is this kind of predictable reaction that has led to Peace Corps being a 27-month commitment instead of a 1-month vacation. The very design of Peace Corps and the length of our stay is deliberately structured such that volunteers have time to "go [to a country], have [their stereotypes confirmed], then... stick around long enough to realize there’s infinite more complexity at work." Of volunteers who have been in country for over a year (like myself), this RPCV writes: "The 2nd year folks are the ones that no longer hold the stereotypes because they are there long enough to know what is normal, what is not normal, and for the people to open up and share their rich inner lives with the volunteer and for the volunteer to realize that there is just as much variation in/between/of/for America as there is in/between/of/for the local community." - Source
So, what troubled me was not necessarily the harsh first-impression judgments themselves, but rather their untempered publicity, their complete lack of balance or humility, and, most disturbing, their reception. The views. The likes. The shares.
Americans who never have and never will set foot in an African country praised the condemnations for their “insight” and lauded the humble pro-tips to be grateful for “how much better” we have it in America.
“Thank you for reminding me” the comments collectively hummed “how lucky I am not to live there.”
^ A collective sigh of relief has ‘liked’ your evisceration.
Many PCVs were not so generous in their reactions. Not only were the characters of our host-friends and families indiscriminately smeared by the disparaging remarks, but more, an important, arguably the most important, responsibility of a Peace Corps volunteer is to "promote world peace and friendship by promoting a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.” Articulated by one PCV whom I respect immensely:
“When you share a post like to those who have not had the opportunity to travel and learn, you only reinforce the already stigmatized views perpetuated in the western world about the continent of Africa.”
In sharing our experiences, we are strongly encouraged to think about the impact our posts will have on our friends and family back at home, and to consider our unique roles as dual-goodwill ambassadors for both America and Uganda.
Now, let's be candid: as I've gone through my journey of learning about myself and my community over the past year and a half, many of my own posts have not always been glowing reviews of my time here. I’ve written frankly about the struggles I’ve faced as a volunteer, as a foreigner, as an untrained teacher, even – yes—as a woman.
I have tried to write honestly about my growing experience here, not sugar coating my stay, but also trying to acknowledge my own shortcomings as a volunteer and foreigner. And, too, to acknowledge America’s shortcomings: our own ugliness with racism, sexism, and intolerance. (We did just elect a president who boasts of grabbing a woman’s pussy – that is not the mark of a country who has cornered the market on gender equality.)
I have acknowledged America’s shortcomings and my own because it is all too easy to place yourself on a pedestal and condemn an already condemned place. A place of which you have incredibly limited firsthand knowledge. It is too easy to arrive from on high, and never really come down to earth. Perhaps all individuals feel a special loyalty to their homeland, but Americans in Africa can cling to it to such a degree that it blinds them from seeing anything other than what they have already seen a hundred times on National Geographic: beautiful scenery, desolate people.
So, as a not-so-humble-second-year PCV, let me respond to such images with my own, hard-earned perspective. Let me talk about something long overdue: the good.
Finally.
My school and community are filled with extraordinary, strong, inspiring men and women who have taken me in and made my two years possible.
Jamie Doe is a teacher at my government-run school. She is a strong, independent woman raising her two children alone because she did not put up with less than she deserved in a husband.
Lee Oniru proudly left a partner with her children and now supports not only them, but also her brother. She does this while teaching full-time, taking on additional responsibilities and mentoring the female pupils, and finding time to take me shopping on the weekends.
Sarah is an example of the many, many happily married families in Uganda. She has a young girl named Gift (who still calls me by my starter’s name, Megan). Sarah and her husband each speak 5 different languages, and he works in Kampala away from home to ensure Blessing is well-taken care of.
Carolyn and Kennedy, another happily married couple, are both so generous that they act as foster parents for Peace Corps volunteers placed near them. In their role as self-appointed guardians, they have safeguarded volunteers’ houses, consoled volunteers when their pets passed away, and thrown a wedding for a volunteer who wanted to tie the knot in Arua. Kennedy, appropriately, even walked his adopted daughter down the aisle at her request.
Bako Jane works full time, and during term breaks she goes back to school to earn additional degrees and to improve her potential for the future. Her English is excellent, her sense of humor on point, and her visual aids a work of art.
I know plenty of men in Uganda who are no less impressive. John is my neighbor. He is raises 3 children, one of whom is often sick. John treats his son, for his sicknesses, while providing for his other children and making time to mentor me whenever I am struggling at home. One night, he and his oldest son rushed to my door to exterminate ants I hadn’t noticed invading my kitchen.
Nixon, our local security guard and primary school teacher, walks the compound every night making sure I, and his children, are safe after dark
Khellil, our games and sports teacher, is involved in a plethora of activities, and takes on more every day. He helps coach the girls as well as the boys, and is just as excited when the girls advance. He shows up to track day each year, predictably, in his favorite pair of shorts, a baseball hat, and a whistle. He brings fun, energy, and, most importantly, a semblance of order to the day.
Dramuke Thompson is one of my counterparts. He leads a YoungTalk club at my school where he specifically encourages initiatives for female empowerment. He prompts pupils to write down and share their dreams, stories, or letters. He encourages debates between male and female pupils about subjects such as pit latrines vs. toilets. He is adamantly opposed to corporal punishment, and supported the school in getting a wash room designated for girls on their period.
Alfred Anguyo led the spelling bee this month at our school. He insisted that every competition be completely fair and not favor the older pupils. When someone misspelled a word, he gently corrected them and offered an anecdote to help them remember for next time. He is so proud that our team is a majority girls.
Amugle Gift is my deputy head teacher in charge of welfare and education. He always makes a point to greet me with a warm smile and a firm handshake. He is perhaps one of the jolliest people I have ever met, and he has a dog that patrols our compound on a daily basis and whose presence has become a comforting sight in my service.
There are the boda boda men who greet me whenever I leave my compound, and inquire how my latest trip has been. If I’m crossing the street at night, they’ll cross the way to escort me as I walk alongside their motorcycle back to my gate.
There is the tailor, Gilbert, who makes my dresses and bags and who lets me sit near him and chat when I’m having a hard market day.
There is the waiter at the American restaurant – Linus – a tall, shy, smiling man who knows my order and brings me an iced latte before I’ve even ordered it.
My list could go on and on. Men in Uganda have been some of my best allies, and are some of the most hardworking, supportive fathers, husbands, and friends.
I am not unique. Every PCV I know has stories of this community member or that, men and women without whom service would not be possible. There are hundreds of us who, together, could tell you stories of thousands of Ugandan men and women who are strongly independent, kind-hearted, funny, sassy, warm, and generous. Men and women who care deeply about each other and their country, and are working hard a day at a time to improve the lives of those around them.
Are there alcoholic, abusive husbands? Yes. Are their disenfranchised women? Yes. But the important note is that there are not only bad men and unhappy women, no more than there are in America (which, incidentally, has its own host of alcoholic, abusive husbands and disenfranchised women). Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian author, dryly cautions the danger of such sweeping stereotypes in the following anecdote:
"I recently spoke at a university where a student told me that it was such a shame that Nigerian men were physical abusers like the father character in my novel. I told him that I had just read a novel called "American Psycho" and that it was such a shame that young Americans were serial murderers." (Read the rest of her speech discussing "The Danger of a Single Story" here)
It’s not acknowledging that abusive, inept individuals exist that’s problematic, what’s offensive (and inaccurate) are thoughtless generalizations that imply that these are all, or even most, Ugandans.
Does Uganda have a long way to go to achieving gender equality? Yes. Does America? You bet.
To reduce “Africa” to a morally inferior “them” is to rob an entire continent of its dignity and potential. It’s more than ignorant, it’s insulting.
In challenging negative stereotypes about Ugandan men and women, I urge every PCV and American who has an ally, friend, or family-member who has shown them the best in humanity a continent away to share their story as publicly as possible. #Let’sTalkAboutTheGood.
Finally.
PCV Emily, her sister, and fellow-hikers/members of their community enjoy a victory photograph atop Mt. Wati (used with permission)
