On a rainy morning recently on my way to work, I witnessed a Ghanaian police car screech on its breaks and slam into a smaller sedan that was waiting to make a left hand turn onto my street. It was a loud and scary crash. A split second after it happened, the police officer jumped out of his car, and raced towards the other car. At that moment, I thought to myself (more testament to how much I have changed now that I have a child) “Wow, that car in front of him could have been me, and I could have had the baby with me!” Then I chastised myself for being so cynical and thought, “Wow, there are good cops out there! Look at this guy—he really cares about that other driver.” And then, the police officer revealed his true colors. He wasn’t running to check out the driver of the other car, he was running to his front fender to check on the damage. I laughed out loud. Then I drove away.
Later I reflected on how my reaction (and lack of action) is a perfect example of how the international community (myself included) often treats Africa. Situations here can be so absurd that you feel compelled to throw your hands in the air and walk away. Or throw some money at the problem and walk away, hoping for the best. I know it’s a cop-out. It’s much harder to try to do the right thing. It will take longer, be much more painful, but it is the right thing to do.
But “doing something,” also means you have to recognize the enormity of problems here, and be prepared to stay for as long as it takes. Also, and this will come as no surprise to most of you, not all solutions proposed are good ones! They are almost always short-term, defined by political realities. But the problems here are deep and complex, so the solutions will have to be too, and it will take a long time for Africa to reap the benefits. Good intentions are all over Africa. But in spite of billions of dollars spent, poverty remains endemic and successful projects and good leadership are still the exception, not the rule.
Why? My theory is that most of it comes down to politics. On the African side, their leaders are like ours. They care most about staying around for the next election. Few (if any) African leaders are re-elected by doing “the right things”, at least economically, for their countries and economies (like eliminating economy-sinking government subsidies, privatizing inefficient government-run businesses, opening up the business environment for private investment, helping set the conditions so small businesses can flourish). You get ahead politically here by protecting your friends who elected you to power, by keeping the powerful rich and happy, keeping the armed forces from taking you out in a coup, and by helping people vote for you, fraudulently or not.
On the American side, although the rap on Africa is that “no one cares”, my experience in the U.S. government is that this couldn’t be farther from the truth. There is almost too much caring and emotion, and too little objective, long-term strategy when it comes to our government and its relationship to Africa. There is enormous pressure on the U.S. government from inside our own country to be “doing something” for Africa. Groups like the Congressional Black Caucus, the religious community, the Africa centric non-governmental organizations, the international development community, and most recently Hollywood, all put relentless pressure on the U.S. government related to Africa, with good reason. But this forcing of the government’s hand results in money allocated to Africa quickly, often without a lot of thoughtful strategy or well-thought out African input behind it. This pressure, and budgetary pressures from within the U.S. government also means that the money, once allocated, has to be spent quickly. So many projects and activities designed to help ease Africa’s pain are quickly drawn up, quickly implemented, and quickly forgotten, except for the fact that not much changes for Africa. Congress is always quick to remind us of that. Then we stand around and blame each other for not doing enough for Africa. I admit that pressure and more money is definitely part of the solution for Africa’s woes, but they are far from the only solutions.
If you asked me five years ago what one thing could Africa do to turn the tide on their continent’s fortunes and the way that the international community relates to them, I don’t think I would have said that Africa should embrace the World Trade Organization (WTO). But lucky for Africa, most countries are members of this body, and they are seeing that membership has its privileges. They (with their buddies from India and Brazil) are really pushing the U.S. and Europe around in the WTO, having an influence on the rules of global trade, hopefully for their long-term benefit. Among government employees working on African trade issues, I’m glad to say I’m not alone in thinking that one of Africa’s best bets for a better future is to not let up on the developed economies in the WTO. Africa needs to keep forcing the U.S., Europe and Japan to “walk the walk”, instead of just “talk the talk” on our commitment to helping Africa participate in the global trading system.
I went to a conference a few months ago in the U.S. on promoting private investment in Africa that my office supported. I’m breastfeeding so I had to bring my baby with me and was exhausted after the 24-hour trip. I’ve been feeling pretty down on West Africa lately. It’s scary to have a baby here with all the health concerns. We have been in Ghana for two years and many of our friends are leaving this summer. My job is stressful and I feel guilty about not being at home with my kid. And I don’t think I have ever had a job that I’ve worked harder at, and felt like I’ve accomplished so little for poor people. So the last thing I wanted to do was go to the conference’s opening gala celebrating Africa.
But I’m really glad I went. Just the sight of about 1,000 women and men dressed spectacularly in African fabrics in fashionable designs representing their countries, and hearing Spanish, Portuguese, French, English, Bambara, Twi, Wollof, and about a dozen other African languages being spoken simultaneously, along with the awesome African music playing in the background (and a big glass of wine) was enough to lift my spirits. It took those sights and sounds to force me to acknowledge that Latin America and Europe definitely have their advantages, but there are few parts of the world that are as vibrant, colorful, diverse, musical, mysterious, challenging and frustrating as Africa.
The rest of the conference was full of highs and lows. A number of African heads of state, business leaders and high-level politicians spoke and impressed the heck out of me. A few of these men (no women of course) gave me hope for the continent (people from Botswana, Madagascar and South Africa). But the speeches from most African representatives just continued to keep me down, because it was the same, weak and uninspiring, double-message coming out of Africa. Don’t pity us, but give us money. Don’t tell us what to do, but give us technical assistance. Don’t feel sorry for us, but if you don’t help us, we will implode. One President of an African country actually said that once the private sector invests in Africa, they have a responsibility to stay forever.
All this made me think that Africa needs to stand up for itself and get a better message. And better messengers. At the conference I saw first hand why many in the U.S. government are so jazzed about the President of Madagascar. This is a man who speaks confidently about his country and his vision for its future. He uses facts and data and speaks from a position of power. He embodies hope, and most importantly, gives investors confidence—the whole point of the conference. It’s what conferences like this one should do more of, rather than give the “old guard” the podium to send the same old, tired message that doesn’t inspire anyone, least of all the private sector.
Sitting in the audience listening to the speeches, I couldn’t help comparing the African negotiating position with that coming from some community advocates I used to encounter in the U.S. that represent disinvested inner-city America when they talked to the private sector. The message was essentially the same. Too much emotion, too few facts. “You have to help us. It’s your responsibility to help us.” Well, guilt may work with some politicians, and it can move countries to give more aid to Africa, but it doesn’t work very well on the private sector. And all my work in West Africa has convinced me that it is going to be mostly private investment and Africans themselves—and not government aid—that is going to improve Africa’s fortunes.
Getting more investment in Africa is not rocket science. You don’t go to the private sector with a tin cup in one hand, and a set of conditions in the other. It just doesn’t work like that. But African governments love to set conditions around foreign assistance, and many well-intentioned and guilt-ridden governments fall for this tactic. In Africa the lines between business and government is so often blurred, maybe governments think the same strategy will work with the private sector?
The leftist-leaning African magazines publish articles about how Africa needs aid that does not force it to be in a degrading or unfair position. But none of the writers report on how the best way to avoid that would be to get off aid. I think my husband is right on this point—Africa’s goal should not be to get the West to give them aid with better conditions, but no aid at all. You don’t want our charity with strings attached? Reject it. You want the IMF and the World Bank out of your business? Give them no reason to be there at all. It’s a long-term goal, but a great one for Africa. And too few leaders are focused on this long-term goal, and too many are consumed with getting their hands on more foreign aid. But I’m depressing myself again. Time to move on.
What else is up in our ‘hood? Crime is up. An American family in Accra we know was robbed while they (and their two children) were sleeping a week ago. And our nanny was telling me that a band of robbers is preying on people walking at night on our street to where the public transportation is. As if it doesn’t suck enough already to take “tro tros” (rickety buses) here, now you get jacked on your way to catch one. Of course, the Nanny knows just who is responsible for the problem. The Nigerians. And those people from Togo. “They just hang around with nothing to do and no jobs and they prey on all the hard working people.” Sounds strangely familiar.
Our nanny had another zinger the other day that I have to share. I was talking to her about going to the zoo and making sure she keeps the baby away from the monkeys, because they can reach through the bars and scratch the baby. Then I stopped and asked her if she knew that monkeys in Africa is where AIDS came from. She was surprised to hear it. Then I explained how AIDS started in the African rainforest, and how it was passed to man through monkeys. She said excitedly, “Because they had SEX with the monkeys!” “Err”, I said, “Not exactly…it was through people eating bush meat.” She replied, “Ahhhh…those Ashanti boys. They love bush meat.” (she is from a different ethnic group). All life started in Africa. Why not prejudice too?
One last absurdity I have to relate. Remember the lady I wrote about in my prior updates who begs on the side of the road with her two small boys that I am a sucker for and give big money to? I didn’t realize she was pregnant. She had the baby and now she begs on the side of the street with her two boys and a newborn baby strapped to her back. As if my heart needed to break more. Now in addition to money, I give her baby clothes. I was telling this story to my husband as we were cooking some pasta and he was picking the bugs off the top of the boiling water that were floating to the surface. He interjected in a matter-of fact way, “You give money to ladies with babies, I give to cripples.” Then we stopped, looked at each other and laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was so tragic. Those of you who have lived in poor countries know that you sometimes just have to laugh it off, or you will just cry. Then we threw out the pasta and started to boil a fresh pot of water.
