Money Money Money
Moses was meant to help me with my garden the other day. He came a couple of hours after I was expecting him and told me that he and his daughter, Dinah, had a meeting with Derek in the morning. Dinah was one of the students Derek is supporting, but she’s never done very well. She failed again and so Derek is not going to pay her school feels anymore.
Moses was damp-eyed and couldn’t manage much of a smile at all as we chatted and he rescheduled. I told him I was sorry, and my heart was nearly breaking because all of them, Derek, Moses, and Dinah, are in an impossible situation. It doesn’t make sense for Derek to continue to pay for school when Dinah continues to fail. He’s had her repeat years, switch schools, insisted on English only with him so that she could get more comfortable with the subject, and her grades have just gotten worse. But for Dinah, this is her way out of the “villages.” I honestly don’t think she understands what passing her MSCE would do for her (and so, as a result, I don’t think she’s putting as much effort in as she could). I suspect that she’ll be like my friend Zione, vaguely pursuing some kind of education until she finds herself pregnant and married and stuck in the villages forevermore.
And, oh, poor Moses, who has such high hopes for his daughters, who wants so much for them, who would like to give them the world. He has decided that he is going to find a school that will take Dinah and pay her school fees himself. Add that to the fact that his other daughter, Maria, is failing as well-Derek is still paying boarding, books, etc, (about MK13,000 every term), but Moses now has to pay the actual tuition, (about MK3,000). So, Derek told me that he was really glad I was giving Moses more piecework because he won’t be able to manage the school fees on his own-now I just need to figure out what else to hire him to do without having him in my space all the time.
And it’s tricky-it’s all so tricky. You want to help people out because you love them, but money is so unbalancing. It doesn’t even have to be gifts of money. Most azungu have more money and more stuff than most Malawians and as much as we deny it, everybody knows it*. And then add in the differences in beliefs about how money should be distributed, and we all, who say that we don’t have money and then don’t share even while we go to Cape MacClear or Tanzania or Nyika or South Africa are not only selfish but are selfish liars.
I don’t think we are viewed quite so harshly as that. At least not on a conscious level, although my new officemate, Jessie, looked at me rather knowingly when I said I couldn’t afford a car and said, “You mean you choose not to have a car.” Which is both right and wrong. But still, money casts its spectral shadow between us, whisper-shouting all the things we fail to do with the windfall that belongs to some of us by accident of birth.
And then, when money is physically involved, it gets even more complicated. There are cultural differences in what the responsibilities are of the giver and the receiver. Forevermore, at least usually on the western side, the relationship is tainted. With all the stresses cross-cultural friendships already strain under, all the things undid that are supposed to be done, all the things said that are supposed to remain unsaid***, to add another two sets of (money related) cultural expectations can strain relationships to the edge of functionality.
The power imbalances compound. Those of us with the money try to decide how to give, how to assist without causing more problems than we solve. We assess pitfalls and determine the rules under which we will part with our money. The recipients are often only peripherally involved with this process, even though that makes it patronizing, even though it sets up a horrible supplicant/pasha relationship. The evidence is all around: what happens when money is given indiscriminately; the deterioration in independence, the expectation of further largesse, the lack of progress by anyone’s standards.
It is somewhat easier to figure out these issues with someone like Moses. Every time I go out of town, Moses feeds my dogs twice a day. I usually arrange for someone else to feed them on Moses’ days off. While I was in South Africa, D’Lynn agreed to feed them on Sundays (yes, the Malawian work week, especially for non professional workers, tends to be 6 days a week and often 10-12 hours/day). When I got back, Derek told me that Moses came all the way from Sadzi on his days off to feed the dogs. It’s a 45 minutes to one hour trip on the bike Derek bought him to make his commute a little easier and cheaper.
I protested-but before I got very far Derek said that he had reminded Moses that D’Lynn was to feed the dogs on Sundays, but Moses was so concerned they wouldn’t be fed that he came anyway. D’Lynn said Ujeni and Wanuwon were fed so much that they dissed her nsima in preference of the superior Moses nsima they knew was still to come. Trust me, my dogs never turn down food. Well, sometimes Wanuwon does if he doesn’t feel like he’s been pet enough, but Ujen never does.
Moses does this for me just because I’m me and he’s him. I pay him for mopping my floors twice a month and for taking my dogs to dip and for helping with my garden, but I never have to pay him for helping me out in any other way. The floor mopping and dog-dipping he would do for free if I hadn’t offered to pay him in the first place, because those are the kinds of things that Malawians do for their friends.
If all this sounds convoluted and like I’m backing up and contradicting myself a million different ways, that’s because that’s how it is. Each relationship has this barely acknowledged but completely known imbalance, and we all do the best we can to navigate through and around it. Sometimes we are more successful than others. Sometimes we are able to build stronger relationships that can withstand more playing with the line between friends and turning into benefactor/beneficiary.
*That makes it frustrating for the azungu who don’t have more money, and extra especially frustrating to those who don’t even have access to more money through, say, their parents. Although even those who are honestly broke usually have things like computers** which most Malawians don’t even bother to dream of having.
**Since they are necessary for college at this point, most everybody who can afford to come to Peace Corps has one or access to getting one-which raises a whole ‘nother class issues ball of wax on the American side, but I digress. I mean, more than usual.
***We’ve discussed before how screwed our workers and other alms-seekers are when they ask for loans or gifts. They’ve learned from previous azungu that they get a better response if their request is accompanied by some sob story. But I, and a few of my friends, feel manipulated by the sob stories and are less likely to want to help when they are thrust upon us.
Moses was damp-eyed and couldn’t manage much of a smile at all as we chatted and he rescheduled. I told him I was sorry, and my heart was nearly breaking because all of them, Derek, Moses, and Dinah, are in an impossible situation. It doesn’t make sense for Derek to continue to pay for school when Dinah continues to fail. He’s had her repeat years, switch schools, insisted on English only with him so that she could get more comfortable with the subject, and her grades have just gotten worse. But for Dinah, this is her way out of the “villages.” I honestly don’t think she understands what passing her MSCE would do for her (and so, as a result, I don’t think she’s putting as much effort in as she could). I suspect that she’ll be like my friend Zione, vaguely pursuing some kind of education until she finds herself pregnant and married and stuck in the villages forevermore.
And, oh, poor Moses, who has such high hopes for his daughters, who wants so much for them, who would like to give them the world. He has decided that he is going to find a school that will take Dinah and pay her school fees himself. Add that to the fact that his other daughter, Maria, is failing as well-Derek is still paying boarding, books, etc, (about MK13,000 every term), but Moses now has to pay the actual tuition, (about MK3,000). So, Derek told me that he was really glad I was giving Moses more piecework because he won’t be able to manage the school fees on his own-now I just need to figure out what else to hire him to do without having him in my space all the time.
And it’s tricky-it’s all so tricky. You want to help people out because you love them, but money is so unbalancing. It doesn’t even have to be gifts of money. Most azungu have more money and more stuff than most Malawians and as much as we deny it, everybody knows it*. And then add in the differences in beliefs about how money should be distributed, and we all, who say that we don’t have money and then don’t share even while we go to Cape MacClear or Tanzania or Nyika or South Africa are not only selfish but are selfish liars.
I don’t think we are viewed quite so harshly as that. At least not on a conscious level, although my new officemate, Jessie, looked at me rather knowingly when I said I couldn’t afford a car and said, “You mean you choose not to have a car.” Which is both right and wrong. But still, money casts its spectral shadow between us, whisper-shouting all the things we fail to do with the windfall that belongs to some of us by accident of birth.
And then, when money is physically involved, it gets even more complicated. There are cultural differences in what the responsibilities are of the giver and the receiver. Forevermore, at least usually on the western side, the relationship is tainted. With all the stresses cross-cultural friendships already strain under, all the things undid that are supposed to be done, all the things said that are supposed to remain unsaid***, to add another two sets of (money related) cultural expectations can strain relationships to the edge of functionality.
The power imbalances compound. Those of us with the money try to decide how to give, how to assist without causing more problems than we solve. We assess pitfalls and determine the rules under which we will part with our money. The recipients are often only peripherally involved with this process, even though that makes it patronizing, even though it sets up a horrible supplicant/pasha relationship. The evidence is all around: what happens when money is given indiscriminately; the deterioration in independence, the expectation of further largesse, the lack of progress by anyone’s standards.
It is somewhat easier to figure out these issues with someone like Moses. Every time I go out of town, Moses feeds my dogs twice a day. I usually arrange for someone else to feed them on Moses’ days off. While I was in South Africa, D’Lynn agreed to feed them on Sundays (yes, the Malawian work week, especially for non professional workers, tends to be 6 days a week and often 10-12 hours/day). When I got back, Derek told me that Moses came all the way from Sadzi on his days off to feed the dogs. It’s a 45 minutes to one hour trip on the bike Derek bought him to make his commute a little easier and cheaper.
I protested-but before I got very far Derek said that he had reminded Moses that D’Lynn was to feed the dogs on Sundays, but Moses was so concerned they wouldn’t be fed that he came anyway. D’Lynn said Ujeni and Wanuwon were fed so much that they dissed her nsima in preference of the superior Moses nsima they knew was still to come. Trust me, my dogs never turn down food. Well, sometimes Wanuwon does if he doesn’t feel like he’s been pet enough, but Ujen never does.
Moses does this for me just because I’m me and he’s him. I pay him for mopping my floors twice a month and for taking my dogs to dip and for helping with my garden, but I never have to pay him for helping me out in any other way. The floor mopping and dog-dipping he would do for free if I hadn’t offered to pay him in the first place, because those are the kinds of things that Malawians do for their friends.
If all this sounds convoluted and like I’m backing up and contradicting myself a million different ways, that’s because that’s how it is. Each relationship has this barely acknowledged but completely known imbalance, and we all do the best we can to navigate through and around it. Sometimes we are more successful than others. Sometimes we are able to build stronger relationships that can withstand more playing with the line between friends and turning into benefactor/beneficiary.
*That makes it frustrating for the azungu who don’t have more money, and extra especially frustrating to those who don’t even have access to more money through, say, their parents. Although even those who are honestly broke usually have things like computers** which most Malawians don’t even bother to dream of having.
**Since they are necessary for college at this point, most everybody who can afford to come to Peace Corps has one or access to getting one-which raises a whole ‘nother class issues ball of wax on the American side, but I digress. I mean, more than usual.
***We’ve discussed before how screwed our workers and other alms-seekers are when they ask for loans or gifts. They’ve learned from previous azungu that they get a better response if their request is accompanied by some sob story. But I, and a few of my friends, feel manipulated by the sob stories and are less likely to want to help when they are thrust upon us.