(written during Week 3)
- This (i.e. secondary school boys coming up to us and introducing themselves) was a point of initial amusement that has become an “Ugh” topic for me. The frequency of a certain rehearsed speech has made me wary of their aggressive, seemingly scammy ways.
- Last Saturday (8 days ago), Erin and I were walking up the hill back to our hotel when we met a boy, about 15, on the grounds of the Lutheran Church situated halfway between the center of town and Kolping. At this point in time, we had become used to random people coming up to us in town and being friendly. This boy, M, seemed like one of those people – friendly, curious, and harmless.
- We had been interested in attending church service in Tanzania at some point, just to see what it was like, and we asked him what time service was on Sundays. 7:30am and 10am. Okay, great, we thought, maybe we’ll see you at church tomorrow then and then went on our ways back home. Sunday came around and it was pouring. Neither of us is equipped with a strong enough umbrella for their storms, so we decided to stay in. 10:30am rolls around and we hear a knock on our door. It’s one of the hotel receptionists, who says “M is here for you.” And we think, M from work who we were hanging out with last night? Oh wait.. no… M the schoolboy. How did he find us? Oh yeah, we’re kind of easy to describe here – White girl, Asian girl (or China (pronounced Chee-nah) as they shout to me here..). We step outside our room and we see him in a tan suit waiting for us, telling us he would like to bring us to church. Having a personal escort to church seems like a sign enough to go and the rain has let up a bit at this point, so we grab our bags and walk with him. Then he says, it’s too late to walk in to church since service is halfway through (this makes sense, we don’t want to be rude), but let me show you some things. Okay, that is fine. We walk past the church and he is like.. let me show my home, do you have time?
- Erin and I are a bit more on guard at this point, unsure how to proceed, but seeing as there are two of us and one of him, out in broad daylight on a Sunday morning, figure it should be okay. We walk down a dirt path past the church and then turn left down another road, where we arrive at a small brick house with a sheet metal roof. M knocks on the door. At first nobody answers and so he heads towards the back of the house. Here, we do not follow. He comes back to the front and eventually the front door opens. Come inside, he indicates. I look at Erin with a “Do you feel comfortable?” look, she looks at me with a similar look. Seems okay to just peek. I step in through the front door, careful to leave the door open in the unlikely, but certainly possible event that M is not as harmless as he looks. Erin is right behind me.
- Inside the house was quite a site. We have gone on numerous site visits at this point and seen many of the houses on the outside, but not once have we stepped inside a home. It’s dark inside with old sofas and lots of yarn doilies. There is a small room maybe 8x10 in the front and then a room that is completely dark in the back. The ceiling has a few wood beams, but otherwise we can directly see the sheet metal. From the back room emerges a boy about 16-17 years of age. This is my brother, M introduces. Another boy walks out of the back room; he looks about 6. This is my younger brother, says M. We shake their hands and say hello, nice to meet you, then indicate that we should leave. M agrees.
- At this point, Erin and I recognize that we have reached the limits of our comfort level and both start indicating that we should get going, we have work to do, etc. M appears disappointed, wondering outloud in broken English when he will see us again. We tell him, next Sunday at church. He says he understands and offers to walk with us back to the hotel. Now M has a brooding, concerned look on his face that this point and he says, “Can I tell you about myself before you go?” We say, okay, and he then goes into this story about how a few years ago he met two Swedish women who became his friends and paid his school fees, but one of them had a husband who died and so she had to return to Sweden and never came back and now, he needs to find a new supporter to help pay for his school fees. You understand, he asks? Ah, yes, I understand what all this has been about now. He pulls out a picture of him sitting with a young Caucasian girl, looks about college age (read: not the old woman “benefactor” I was envisioning who might have a husband who died; this girl looks more like a volunteer who came to the region with whom he happened to take a picture in my cynical view), and says that she used to be his supporter and would we be able to be his supporters now?
- Wow, this made me really uncomfortable. In part, because I don’t believe him, but also because part of me wonders if he might be telling the truth. Regardless, I am not about to pay his school fees by handing him money now, so I say that we are also students and do not work and have to pay our own school fees (all true things), so we cannot be his supporters. He tries to tell a bit more of his story, trying to make sure we understand his predicament, and asking “Do you know anyone at the hotel who could help me?” We do not know anyone else at the hotel, we say (which is true). We are sorry. He looks disappointed, but says he understands and then again offers to walk with us up the hill. Halfway up, M says he should head back to the church and we agree that this is best. He asks for our emails and then goes on his way.
- Back at the hotel, Erin and I discuss. Is he for real or is this a scam? Could we pay for his fees – they probably are not all that much. It’s not a solution though, more just a bandaid. But sometimes, we need bandaids to tie us over. I’m fairly certain there must be some kind of organization/NGO or otherwise that would help students with their fees if that is really the problem; they cannot expect all students to go about finding supporters (i.e. – foreign tourists who happen to be passing through town). On principle, I don’t believe in helping just one if it’s a systemic problem, but Erin brings up a good point in that sometimes people just need a little extra help for a period of time, but then her question is even if we did support the boy, for how long would it go? Just the year or all the way until university? And we both wonder if the way things have been handled here by foreigners is feeding some kind of beggar mentality. What about us makes this boy think that we must be wealthy and can or should ask us for money? I think we both conclude that if he really were in a dire situation, and for some reason there were no local organization to help him, we might be interested in trying to help serve as that bandaid. At the same time, we recognize that we aren’t sure if he’s for real. I personally just don’t quite believe him. Something about him seemed too polished. I certainly did not like his aggressiveness in coming to find us at the hotel or how he was so direct in his request. But, the fact that this boy had a suit, lived in a brick house, despite is darkness and bare-bare bones insides it’s not the wood or mud huts we see along the roadsides, and is currently in school now, makes me less likely to believe his story. I suppose part of me was also just made incredibly uncomfortable because the situation shoves some kind of power and privilege dynamic directly in my face and I feel bad for being so skeptical not wanting to help. Yet, I am unwilling to help, because I feel that if I help this one, it is not being fair to all the other boys who need their school fees paid and it’s really just, again, not a solution to the problem. (if the problem is even real!)
- So… that was last weekend.
- This Saturday around 1pm, Erin and I are walking to town when we and suddenly surrounded by a number of secondary school boys walking home after being let out of class. Habari! Hello! Where are you from? What are you doing in Bukoba? They have a bright curiosity about us and what we are doing in their town and also offer to walk with us towards town. At this point, having experienced M last week, I am a bit more on guard. We do not tell them where we are living (we do not want more visitors at our hotel!) or other specific details about our stay in Bukoba (they often ask how long we are staying as well). This week, however, the boy I was walking with was even more aggressive.
- Meet L. He is fifteen. After talking to me for a few minutes, he asks me if we can be friends. Sure, we can be friends, I say. Since we are friends, can I have your telephone number? I do not have a telephone, I say. (not true, but I don’t want him calling me). I quickly realize that if I do not ask him more questions about himself, he will ask more prying questions of me, so I ask him about school, since he is wearing a uniform. He tells me he is in Form 3 and then goes into an abbreviated version of M’s story with slight variation. I need someone to pay my school fees next year as my father passed away and we do not have money. I tell him the same thing I told Marcus, that I cannot support him because I am also a student, do not work, and have my own school fees to pay. Then we walk a little more and I try to find more benign topics to discuss. He asks me if I own a computer. I tell him that I did not bring one here, no. (Also not true, but I don’t need someone knowing I have a laptop here) I tell him that I use the one at work. He asks, when you leave, can you leave your computer with me? (Who does he think I am? Made of money? Giving away computers left and right?) Now I’m feeling really irritated, because I can see that when he sees me all he sees is dollar signs. I tell him, no, I cannot give him the computer; it is not my computer. Oh, company computer, he says. Yes, I say. I do not have money, I am also poor, I say. Finally, he backs off and another one of his friends comes to chat with me. This boy, I don’t quite catch his name, is much nicer. He teaches me some Swahili phrases and then eventually says he needs to go meet his father in town and says goodbye. A nice guy, I decide.
- On this walk, Erin hears half of a school fees story, but the boy apparently does not speak enough English to really convey the story well. So, by and large, she is able to talk about other things and her walk is a bit more enjoyable and benign.
- Sunday, M comes to visit again, to our surprise, though maybe we should not have been that surprised. This time, we are actually rushing to work, so we say, you can walk with us if you would like, but we are busy. He seems to want to spend more time with us, wondering when we will see him again. At church, we say, if we are in town. On the whole, we suspect that he is harmless, given his age and the reputation of this town as being “safe,” but his aggressive and direct nature, his asking us for money, makes us keep our distance. He walks with us halfway down the hill and then says he needs to head home, which suits us fine. He can just email us if he wants.
- In sum, I now feel like these boys really are nuisances as they are trying to scam me (say they have a specific need when they do not) with the same story. At the same time, I don’t doubt that there are students in this region who cannot pay for their school fees. There is poverty left and right, so it’s completely conceivable that students cannot pay for their fees, and I think this is where the conflict in my lies. If their story is true, then I want to help, but I suspect their story is false. Still, given that the story must be true for some, how do I identify those students and can I really help? What is the best solution? Clearly, I believe a systematic solution is necessary if the problem is so pervasive, but in the absence of being able to provide a systems solution which will take time, is it okay to help individually?
- A few more bits of information. A school teacher randomly sat down with us at lunch at New Rose Café on Saturday afternoon and we asked her about these fees. She says for public school, fees are about 20,000 Tanzanian Schillings (between $15-20) for the year. Private schools cost more. Most families can pay, but not all. A lot of the students who cannot pay receive support from donations from abroad through some of the faith-based organizations, like the Lutheran church. We also spoke with Dr. Bertha, our ICAP mentor, who also said that while orphans often cannot pay for school fees and this is a problem in Kagera, where HIV first started and hit hard some years ago, devastating families, these particularly boys were likely trying to scam us and that there are several organizations in this area that help pay for school fees or whatever basic needs children need. This is not to say that the organizations are perfect as a lot of orphanages are in decrepit conditions where children eat one meal a day and much of the money goes to the administrators instead of for the children and there are students whose families struggle to pay their fees (in contrast to students a generation ago under President Nyerere, who made education free for that generation), so the problems exist, but having foreigners hand out money and encourage begging is not the solution. A sad state of affairs, but I have to agree with her. But how to go about fixing such a big problem?
