Sunday, November 05, 2006
When my work is wanted
Last night I went out with a friend to have some beers with his friends from the medical school here in Beira. They had just finished their qualifying examinations. We showed up at this bar (I use the term bar loosely, usually the bars are just peoples apartments where they have mounted a counter in their front room and you sit on stools outside). When we arrived we sat down on plastic chairs in the sand outside the apartment building and everyone started talking again but no one was really talking to me. Being white in Mozambique is a paradox. On the one hand everyone knows you are there. You stand out like a sore thumb. When I go running along the beach or walking on the street I feel like I’m performing a show. It’s hard enough to not feel like a big lump while running but it’s even harder when you know that everyone is watching you.
On the other hand people tend to get very reserved around a new white person. Someone explained to me that this was because people don’t feel like they have anything to say to a white person—nothing in common. I’m not so sure that is it. There is an underlying resentment that seems to take some time to break. In some cases it does not seem to go away. Back to the bar, I slowly started conversing with a guy who had lived in Brazil for a few years. I was pleased because someone was talking to me besides my friend. He was pleased to talk about Brazil and the conversation began to be almost normal and relaxed. Then he started to push things over the edge, wanting my phone number and wanting to plan the next time that we would meet up. He got pushy and I moved my chair away and into the circle of med students. The conversation turned to their exam and they were all pissed at the way medicine was being taught in Beira. All of their professors are white, mostly from the Netherlands. All of their textbooks are in English. They have 30 plus computers that were donated from the States but only 3 actually work. All of the exam questions on their test came from Holland. One of the exam questions was “What is the major necropsy in Holland?” Seriously, how nonsensical is that!! That is exactly what I said to them, pointing out that there was surely not a question about Mozambique on the general exams in Holland. Finally, after making that comment, the students looked at me. Really the first time! That was the first sense that I got that they even knew I was there (although clearly my presence as the only woman and only white person is the group could not have gone unnoticed).
The conversation then turned to white people, with them apologizing for tearing into white people in my presence. They were all talking about how European countries and North American countries send their students here FOR experience but WITHOUT experience. Their surgery professor is a new general practice MD, he has had zero experience in surgery. How frustrating this must be. I left the gaggle of drunken med students for another bar close by. I left with serious questions about why I’m here and whether my presence is helpful at all. Perhaps I’m just adding to the problem and have become another white person exploiting the resources that should be going to Mozambicans. I feel like I have stuff to contribute. Stuff that I could contribute anywhere—here, in Seattle, in Brazil etc. But what good is that contribution if nobody wants it.
Even my relationship with my boss, Cunguara, is strained at best. He doesn’t communicate with me and I have tried my best to do my job here (consulting on community projects) without stepping on his toes or threatening his position. But I feel like that threat was already in place before I got here…one more white person coming to tell Mozambicans how it is. I know what I’m doing here. I know that I can do a good job but my work has to be wanted. I have to be heard and seen for the person that I am, for the professional that I am. Instead I’m afraid that I’m just seen for the white person that I am. The history that this skin color brings with it to Africa seems like an impossible thing to surmount. Hopefully I can at least find my way around it.
On the other hand people tend to get very reserved around a new white person. Someone explained to me that this was because people don’t feel like they have anything to say to a white person—nothing in common. I’m not so sure that is it. There is an underlying resentment that seems to take some time to break. In some cases it does not seem to go away. Back to the bar, I slowly started conversing with a guy who had lived in Brazil for a few years. I was pleased because someone was talking to me besides my friend. He was pleased to talk about Brazil and the conversation began to be almost normal and relaxed. Then he started to push things over the edge, wanting my phone number and wanting to plan the next time that we would meet up. He got pushy and I moved my chair away and into the circle of med students. The conversation turned to their exam and they were all pissed at the way medicine was being taught in Beira. All of their professors are white, mostly from the Netherlands. All of their textbooks are in English. They have 30 plus computers that were donated from the States but only 3 actually work. All of the exam questions on their test came from Holland. One of the exam questions was “What is the major necropsy in Holland?” Seriously, how nonsensical is that!! That is exactly what I said to them, pointing out that there was surely not a question about Mozambique on the general exams in Holland. Finally, after making that comment, the students looked at me. Really the first time! That was the first sense that I got that they even knew I was there (although clearly my presence as the only woman and only white person is the group could not have gone unnoticed).
The conversation then turned to white people, with them apologizing for tearing into white people in my presence. They were all talking about how European countries and North American countries send their students here FOR experience but WITHOUT experience. Their surgery professor is a new general practice MD, he has had zero experience in surgery. How frustrating this must be. I left the gaggle of drunken med students for another bar close by. I left with serious questions about why I’m here and whether my presence is helpful at all. Perhaps I’m just adding to the problem and have become another white person exploiting the resources that should be going to Mozambicans. I feel like I have stuff to contribute. Stuff that I could contribute anywhere—here, in Seattle, in Brazil etc. But what good is that contribution if nobody wants it.
Even my relationship with my boss, Cunguara, is strained at best. He doesn’t communicate with me and I have tried my best to do my job here (consulting on community projects) without stepping on his toes or threatening his position. But I feel like that threat was already in place before I got here…one more white person coming to tell Mozambicans how it is. I know what I’m doing here. I know that I can do a good job but my work has to be wanted. I have to be heard and seen for the person that I am, for the professional that I am. Instead I’m afraid that I’m just seen for the white person that I am. The history that this skin color brings with it to Africa seems like an impossible thing to surmount. Hopefully I can at least find my way around it.
# posted by Molly Louise @ 3:46 PM 
