Seeing Green

I feel sick. I just had a reality check, and it knocked me sideways. Today I invited over a friend, Maurice, to visit and talk about his problem. I think I’ve written about Maurice before. He is a Zemidjan (motorcycle taxi) here in Boukoumbe, and his moto (motorcycle) is starting to break down. He knows he can sell it for at least 100,000CFA ($200usd) because it is 1 year old, and he paid 300,000CFA for it ($600usd). The new moto he wants to get is 110,000f CFA ($220usd), and his a very common Chinese moto that runs well. He came to me with this problem a few weeks ago, and since he is my zemidjan and a friend, I’ve been trying to figure out how I can loan him the money and not risk loosing on the deal. He can’t just sell the old moto and buy the new one, because people will think that he is hurting and needing to get rid of his moto fast, so they will cut off up to $40usd on the price. He has no collateral to offer other than his bike, and if he leaves his bike with me then people will see that he had to get the money from the white person, and again the price will fall. Knowing all of this, both of us have been trying to work out a way to make his situation work. After all, this was partially the reason that my stolen purse had $300usd in it… I don’t usually take out 2 or 3 months of pay at once.

So, today Maurice came over, and after a while we started talking about his problem. Once again, we ended up getting stumped after a few minutes, so Maurice broke the silence with what he saw as a compliment:
Maurice: “You know, I could have asked to borrow the money from someone else, but everyone knows everyone’s business around here, and no one would expect me to borrow the money from you. Besides, I want to borrow it from you because (HERE’S THE KICKER ) you white people value life more than we do here.
“I’ve seen you white people. You come into town, you give out money, you buy all the kids pens and cookies and soccer balls. Everywhere you go you give stuff. I had white people that came to my house once, and I showed them how to use a bow and arrow… they gave a lot of money after that.
“I’ve seen a lot of you white people come here. There were some that came and paid to build a house for someone. In return that person has to call them every time there is a local festival, and the white people come back for a visit. The white people pay everything for him. He eats and drinks whatever he wants, and he does nothing.
“I know another white couple who came to see a tata somba (the local mud fortress housing) once, and they met a kid that they took interest in. They took him to Parakou (a big city in the center of Benin) and bought him a house and everything. You would think he was a rich business owner if you saw him, but it is the white people who pay everything for him. He doesn’t lift a finger. The white people have paid everything and they just keep sending money.
“I see how you white people work. You just respect life more. You take care of people, and no one goes hungry where you live. If I were to go to where you come from, I would find work easily, and I would never be hungry again.
“White people are all the same, and you are willing to share, and there’s plenty of money left over to send to us here. You people love to give money! That’s what you do. I’ve seen it hundreds of times, and you’re no different.”

After hearing this monologue I finally realized that I had accidentally twisted my face into an image of horror, and that it was making Maurice uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to say to this. I now realized many things though. First of all, Maurice didn’t see me as a really person. He saw me as a white machine who’s job is to dispense money to poor Africans. Second, he had no idea that white people don’t just give out money… if nothing else they are paying off their consciences. No one wants to just give away money!!! They get something in return, and it’s not like those money-givers see you as equals. Third, I realized that as much as I have tried to see people here as equals, they will always see me as something strange. I understand their lifestyles and decisions, but they will NEVER understand mine.

I did my best to respond to the situation. I molded my face back into it’s usual ‘friendly mode’, then tried to help ease myself about what I had just heard:
Me: “You know, Maurice, there is no life in the world that is easy. Everything has pay-offs. Even rich kings have a hard life, because they must pay for their wealth and status by keeping the people happy, and that can be stressful.
“Where I come from, it isn’t that easy to find a job. Also, there are things like credit cards, where someone gives you access to some money, but the interest is terrible. And then every month that you can’t repay the loan, they charge you more and more interest until you have to give up your house, your car, and everything in order to pay it back. Then you might have to go live in a group home where it’s cold and difficult to get by… There is no life that is easy.
“Also, I’m not like those white people you are talking about. I don’t make the money I would make where I live. I make the amount of money that someone working here would make, and that’s all. I was willing to help you with this because we are friends and equals, and not because I’m just a white person with money. If I didn’t get this money back, it would really hurt me. Not only would I be sad that our friendship was ruined, I would be poor and struggling to get by myself. I’m human just like you, and I don’t have an endless supply of money.”

He tried to follow that with how he knew I wasn’t like that and that I was his friend, but I could hear that he didn’t really mean it. It was a comfort response, and it was only said to keep from having an awkward moment.

What crap!!!! I work and work and work to fit in here, yet I’m still just a foreigner. I’m still something that is taken advantage of and not respected. Who knows how many of those friendly smiles are just something used to help get something else out of me. I feel confused now. I feel lost. I feel sick.

I don’t know if I should even help him out. I thought we were friends, but we can’t be friends if we aren’t seen as equals. It’s not that he sees me as better than him… he just doesn’t see me as being the same species. Wow. I’m an alien.

I have a story that they told us back in Philadelphia right before all of us new volunteers got on the plane for Benin:
“Once there was this boy, Sam, who wore yellow glasses, and everything he saw was yellow. Sams skin was yellow, Sam’s clothes were yellow, and the sky was yellow to. Not only Sam wore these yellow glasses, but Sam’s parents did too. Also, Sam’s neighbors wore yellow glasses, and everyone else in his town did too. Everyone saw yellow and wore yellow and went to yellow places.
“One day, same decided to go on a trip. He got on a plane and went far far away. When he got to this new place he started talking to the people there, and it turns out that they were certain that their world was blue. Sam decided to stay in this world a while, and he tried to get used to a blue world, and over time the color of his glasses started to change.
“After a while, Sam went back home to his family and friends. Sam had had an exciting trip, and he came to his family and friends with some exciting information. “Look!” Sam said, “All these years we thought the world and everything in it was yellow, but we were wrong!!! I went over there where everyone thinks everything is blue, but they are wrong too!!! I’ve found the truth though: The whole world is actually GREEN!!!!!”
“Sam’s friends and family didn’t know how to react to this. Green?!?! Everything was obviously yellow.”
Sam was disappointed that no one understood… I think he later found a group of people who saw green as well, and started hanging out with them, while still understanding why some people only saw yellow and some only saw blue.

This couldn’t be a better example of what I experienced today. I see green, and no one understands!!!! It’s too bad. Yellow was such a pretty color.

Sarah