It never hurts to ask

If Mozambican culture had a motto, based on my limited experience here, it’d be “It never hurts to ask”. It seems that no matter where we go, what we are doing, someone will invariably ask us for something. Children on the street ask for “milis” (1 meticais); old people suddenly stop, stoop over, put out their hands and say “Ajuda” (help); when we arrive in a community after not being there for a while, someone asks, “What’d you bring me?” No request however small or large is too much to ask of someone of a higher socio-economic status. The extension workers in Mandie experience it in the communities, so it’s not limited to just asking foreigners, though I suspect we get targeted more quickly because we stand out more. Joél commented once that growing up Mennonite in North America, we are taught to give, give, give; so when we enter MCC and come to a culture that says “Gimme, gimme, gimme” it creates numerous quandaries as to how to give generously and in ways that alleviate oppression.

Two weeks ago, I was talking with my neighbor about commissioning a clay vase. She has a regular business of making clay pots for cooking and planters. We have bought a number of planters from her for our veranda. We finished our negotiations and decided to walk together, she to the market and me to my house. As we left her yard and climbed the steps of hardened dirt to the road, she complemented my earrings and then asked if I had any others at home (for her). She then noticed my sandals and proceeded to tell me that she did not have enough money to buy flip flops. I just listened.

Two days later, I returned to her house to check on the progress of our vase. Once again, she bemoaned that she did not have enough money, this time for renting a truck to get clay for her business. At times like these I think of the children’s Sunday School song about Peter and James going to the temple to pray and encountering a beggar. The longer I live here in Mozambique, the more I realize that sometimes giving immediately does not alleviate the poverty or even help fix anything temporarily. And that certainly is the case with Dona Cecilia.

So, I in my own way of saying, “silver and gold have I none, but such do I have give I thee”, I told her about savings groups. She would be an excellent candidate for being a part of a savings group. She regularly has to rent a truck to carry clay from wherever she’s dug. She regularly sets out fired pots and planters beside the road and within a few days they are gone. She has a business going. With a savings group, she could borrow money to rent the truck and pay it back after she’s sold her pots. It would be a way that she could access money to help her business grow. As I told her about savings groups, her husband and neighbor were listening and I could see them thinking that it would be a good idea. At the end of my explanation, she told me that she couldn’t do that because she’s not going to teach anyone else how to make things out of clay. I responded that not everyone in the group would have the same business, but all would have access to loans for their individual businesses. Her next defense was that she doesn’t trust anyone. I told her that she would form the group with people she trusts—sisters, cousins (usually people trust their own relatives, but not others). She still was determined that me giving her money for renting a truck would be better than joining a group. Her husband then started to explain the concept to her, seeing that it would be beneficial for her, but she didn’t listen.

At times like this, I wonder if it is just our human nature to want something without working for it. One of the sand dam communities started out strong. Before we returned to talk with them about being approved as a site, they had collected two huge piles of rocks. When we returned this week to visit them, the extension workers told us that unless they, the extension workers, told community members to come, no one came to work on the dam. They wanted the water immediately instead of working to build a dam that over time could give them enough water for domestic use and crops and animals.

I do not always know how to respond when people demand that I give them something. In their eyes, I as a foreigner have more money than I need and so should give it to them for whatever they want to do with it. One day, two guys about 20 years old asked me for a mili. I agreed to it, provided that they give me two 50 centavos. They didn’t like that idea because we’d break even and just be exchanging 1 meticais. They then asked me for a cigarette, to which I replied that it was bad for their health and continued walking wherever I was going. They seemed satisfied by my conversation.

I think about Dona Cecilia. She does not trust her fellow Mozambicans enough to think about forming a savings group that will benefit her for years. Yet she expects me to trust her to either give her a grant or a loan to rent a car to pick up clay. How do we navigate these waters of such different cultural expectations and maintain a sense of dignity for all involved? How do I keep talking with people without succumbing to their guilt trips and how do I know when I really should give something because it will truly help someone?