My Diatribe

So I didn’t want to use this blog as a manifestation of my bleeding heart or a medium to make everyone sad about the disparities of the world…we’ve all seen the commercials with the children who are so hungry they can’t even bother to lift an arm to shoe (sp?) away the flies on their faces, and I know many of you even support these children or volunteer in other helpful ways. I don’t need to spend time telling you about the orphans who’s parents have died from some incurable (or, even more disheartening, curable) disease and are supporting themselves, or about the orphans who’s parents are still alive but don’t give a shit about ensuring that their child eats dinner because it’s Friday night and the bar is calling (sorry for the language, but this issue gets to me probably more than anything else). Or the patients we visit who are dying of HIV but can’t tell their families about their status because they risk getting kicked out, ostracized, or (in very extreme cases) killed. You’ve heard it, you've seen the campaigns, you already know. I plan to spare the heartache, but the information and stats that I have been gathering to write this community needs assessment are just flat out depressing.

The unemployment rate in my greater area (about 60 villages with less than 300,000 people living there) is 50%. It is probably even higher in my village because this statistic includes towns with actual businesses and functioning organizations. 30% of these houses have no income, and the average income of those who do is about $150/month. As a Peace Corps volunteer we get about $250/month, and it is definitely not enough to take care of my needs and then my wants and then those fun trips we take to remain sane. And I’m only one person trying to live on this income, not 10 (which is the number of people usually living in one house on one income). I remember in one of my IDS classes we read an article that was criticizing poor people for spending too much money on “fun” when they couldn’t afford to feed their families. This “fun” isn’t defined as spending all your money on drugs and alcohol, but rather as holding too many festivals. Seriously? We’re talking weddings, birthday parties, cultural ceremonies. This article made me so angry because that is exactly what poverty does to you—it rips away your personal pride. And we all need some escapism to keep us sane and take our minds off of the reality of the pain that consumes our lives. That’s why we as Americans will pay $12 to see a bad romantic comedy, right? I guess what I’m saying is that an entire family (and probably some other random children that they felt obligated to care for) living on $150 a month is not acceptable. They don’t have the luxury of having full stomachs and those social events that give us reasons to get out of bed each day. But they do have the luxury of choice. So which is more important?

Continuing: 40% never had any type of schooling, 1% went on to college, and only 16% of those who do attend high school end up graduating. What angers me the most though, is not that many people are living without electricity, sanitary water, or any type of reliable medical services in emergencies, but that this is South Africa. This country has the highest GDP on the entire continent, boasts gorgeous hotels and glitzy restaurants, and has any basic service and pretty much any luxury that one might want or need. For a country that is able to claim status as a first world country, these statistics are disgusting. The statistics regarding the incidence and prevalence of HIV are even more alarming, but are easier to stomach because a good amount of new infections are a result of personal choice (on some level). But access to clean water or a reliable police force? Those are rights. So much was promised to black South Africans by the new government as apartheid came to an end, but it turns out that providing basic services to your taxpayers is just too darn expensive. I guess it’s easy to forget that the majority of your population is wondering where their next meal is coming from while you’re sipping a cocktail in the backseat of your beamer.