Archive | August, 2013


28 Aug

“I do believe that most men live lives of quiet desperation. For despair, optimism is the only practical solution. Hope is practical. Because eliminate that and it’s pretty scary. Hope at least gives you the option of living.” ~ Harry Nilson

If you had asked me to describe Hope one week ago, I might have described a Little House on the Prairie –style scene; a young girl struggling to find her way through a snowstorm, who suddenly spots the golden glow of a candle in the distance. Hope would be that last bit of energy that keeps the girl going until she makes it to the warmth and welcome of her family home. Once spotted, the metaphorical candle in the storm would grow ever brighter, sharing spiritual warmth even before the source of the physical warmth was reached.

After a week of encounters with corruption, bribery, disrespect, patronising lies and indecipherable political webs, I feel better acquainted with the realities of both the storm and the candle. The storm is more overwhelming than I ever imagined. The candle is smaller and harder to find than expected. In fact, half the time I was quite certain that the candle was a hallucination and that the storm was inescapable.

The AVC team had a few moments in the past week where there was literally nothing left to do but hope. In those moments I became aware of how desperate and deluded Hope feels when there is nothing else to depend on. Hope is the last thing that holds us back from giving up completely and sinking into despair, even when our rational minds know that failure is the most likely outcome. Hope alone is not pleasant and warm and glowing.

Ok, now I’m gonna drop this tired snowstorm-candle-thingy and get to the point: Maybe this week I got a glimpse of what extreme poverty feels like. For a few days I was forced to feel what it’s like when the systems you are meant to trust and rely upon are actually working to exploit you, and you are left with no good choices. Every option costs more than you can afford, and so each decision becomes a pricey gamble. All that’s left is to pick the least-bad option and Hope that it won’t ruin you. But Hope still barely restrains the lingering, inescapable fear that things might never get better and you might be stuck in this place forever.

To rely upon this desperate form of Hope is exhausting and demoralising. It’s not fair that this might be the only kind of hope that some people have ever known.


The ‘Real’ Junior Fellow

22 Aug

I am a Junior Fellow. After a rigorous application and interview process, I was selected for my outstanding leadership qualities, my extreme intellect, and my exceptional ability to connect and empathize with people. After months of carefully directed personal growth, I arrived in a developing African country and immediately dove into the complexities of creating systemic change. Within a week, I had settled in with a host family in an impoverished, isolated village that remains untouched by Western influence. I was deeply moved by the kindness, nobility, and strength of these people who remain cheerful in the face of extreme poverty and institutionalized injustice. I was consumed by a deep, insatiable curiosity about my new community, so I immersed myself in the culture by becoming fluent in the local language, acquiring a wardrobe of traditional clothing, and helping everyone with their daily chores (like washing clothes by hand, cooking over an open fire, carrying water for miles from the nearest well, building mud huts, etc.)

Of course, all of these things challenged me, but I adapted quickly and soon it was like I had lived in this place my whole life. I found that my dedication to family life paid off for my work; the depth of my integration in the community allowed me to create social change in ways that no other foreigner had been able to in the past. I was never lonely because each day was filled with deep, life-changing conversations with Dorothy figures. I rarely had interactions with other expatriate aid workers because I was more content spending time with locals. However, in the few conversations I shared with other mzungus I was able to completely alter people’s perspectives on foreign aid, global systems, and the role of NGOs in development.

Rather than taking any vacation days, I took three days off work to simultaneously battle malaria, bedbugs, a rampant hippopotamus, and an existential crisis. I came out of the experience a stronger, more soulful person, and dove right back into my work to make up for lost time. Throughout all of this, I was able to stay in close contact with my university chapter, family and friends back home, and was able to challenge Canadians’ stereotypes about Africa and poverty. To wrap up my placement, I gave a stunning presentation and written report to EWB and our partner organization. Then my coach and I worked together to completely revise our Venture’s long-term strategy (based on insights from my powerful on-the-ground experience). I will return home to become president of my university chapter, recruit a new Junior Fellow with even more potential than myself, and act as a perspective-altering coach for countless Chapter members. I know, from both my overseas experience and from my passionate commitment to EWB, that I will never be content unless I dedicate my life to social change. When I graduate next year, I will apply to work for a few years with an African Venture, while also publishing a groundbreaking collection of memoirs, stories, and critical essays based on my JF experiences. 

I am a Junior Fellow. But this is not me. This is a single story of what the JF experience could be. I think that elements of this story are probably true for every JF, but I also feel that this story excludes the nuances, hardships and failures that make each JF placement unique. Yet this story is what people, including myself, have come to expect of all Junior Fellows.

One of our first assignments for Foundation Learning was to watch and respond to Chimamanda Adichie’s TED talk about “The Danger of a Single Story”. This is a great talk, which highlights how damaging it can be if we never question our own assumptions or seek out varying, genuine perspectives. I believed that the point of the assignment was to challenge our preconceptions of African people. However, I wish that I could have seen then how this talk could be used as a mirror to look more deeply into the single story that was surrounding my own life.

Before I delve into the dangers of this particular single-story, I should explain the realities of my JF experience. By every measure that should matter to me, I have had a successful placement. My work has led to better results than I ever expected. I’ve achieved nearly all of the learning goals I set at the beginning of the placement. I feel that Ugandan culture has changed my understanding of the world. I’ve had good relationships with my host-family, coach, work-partner, fellow JFs, and other AVC staff. I’ve stayed mentally and physically healthy, and still challenged myself to engage with uncomfortable situations. Most of all, I’m eager to keep contributing to EWB as a Returned Junior Fellow.

Now here’s the problem: throughout this challenging, educational, perspective-changing, love-filled experience I have been plagued with overwhelming feelings of guilt and inadequacy. Let’s call these feelings ‘The Ghost of Junior Fellows Past’… actually, I can’t be bothered to type that out again. What’s a really short name? Let’s go with Jane.

Jane represents the “ideal” Junior Fellow from the beginning of the post. Jane is a legend who inspires countless students across Canada. But when you get to know Jane a bit better, you realize that she’s completely over-the-top and generally unhealthy. Jane has been haunting me all summer, and her specter-ly mission has been to evaluate my every action and decision. When my actions line up with her ideal, she tells me that I’m being a fantastic person. When I do something that strays from the ideal, she is there nagging me, whispering, “You’re not a real Junior Fellow. You obviously don’t care enough about people living in poverty. You will make no difference in the world. All of your EWB friends will lose respect for you. You’re just another naive volun-tourist looking to pad your resume. You are a fraud. Just go home now.”

Where do these warped thoughts come from? Some of the feelings of inadequacy come from unrealistic standards that I’ve set for myself, but others come from outside expectations. We have been repeatedly told by our Program Manager, “The only expectation is that you will become your best, but not for yourself. Become your best to best serve humanity.” However, I have never felt that this is actually the only expectation, and other JFs have said the same.

When “your best” and “to best serve humanity” are implicitly being held in comparison with mythic characters like Jane and their legendary actions, it’s almost impossible for any human being to feel like they are enough. This is the danger of having a single Junior Fellowship story. The problem is not that there aren’t enough JF stories out there; I think the problem is that only one specific kind of JF story is perceived as “real” or “right” or “good enough” or whatever…

For years I have loved hearing RJFs’ stories about their most interesting, exciting and life-changing experiences. They definitely influenced my decision to apply to the program, and I am happy that I did. I will probably tell a lot of similar stories, and might end up perpetuating this single-story. But I will also remember how hard it has been to overcome my feelings of inadequacy, so I will try to also share the stories of my own imperfections and shortcomings. I’d like to ensure that future JFs know that it’s okay to be human.

When I come home, I expect that I will be bombarded with that ever-dreaded question: How was Africa?

If you ask me that, I will share a fun tidbit about my summer and move on. But if you really want to talk, try asking me about something unexpected. Ask me why I didn’t live in a village, didn’t learn the local language, and didn’t buy a wardrobe of “cultural” clothing. Ask me about how I did not get sick. Ask me what I think of the shopping malls in Kampala, or the hilltop café in Masaka, or my host-mother’s favourite TV show. Ask me about my most boring day, or how useless I felt after being stood up for meetings for three days in a row.

I have had a fantastic experience as a Junior Fellow this summer but I think that it’s only fair to let you know that I’m still human. And I’m just as open to talking about the lacklustre parts of the experience as am to talking about the exciting parts.



P.S. I’m looking forward to seeing y’all in Alberta soooooon!

Farmer Group Finance

21 Aug


So, you’re a farmer in Rakai District, and you’d like a bit of money to buy a spraying backpack and some pesticides because you’ve got a nasty ant infestation in your coffee trees. You’ve only got 3 acres of land and farming doesn’t provide a very steady income, so the bank won’t give you a loan. How do you get the money without having to go around asking relatives for loans? Join a Farmer Group, of course!


Check out the infographic-y thing I drew to explain Farmer Group finance to some friends… and, as always, feel free to get in touch if you have questions!

Jjongoza Farmer Field School

Right Brain Ramblings

12 Aug

I really never planned on sharing this, but it’s been a while since I posted anything, and I’m too low on energy to write anything more for a few days.
A message from the right side of my brain

This is the result of an exercise one of my architecture profs encourages us to use, for helping to find clarity when you can’t seem to sort out your thoughts: Write to Draw, Draw to Write