Living in a Material World.
As I made my excuses for leaving early, I realized that I was only sprinting to the door because of my level of discomfort. During a lunch with one of my closest friends in town, she had asked to borrow my internet modem, usb stick, book, guitar, and bike. On top of this, a request for money to build a kitchen sink was requested from both myself and a previous volunteer. Remembering the letters, emails and in-person requests for various items she had sent to both my parents, other volunteers and even parents of other volunteers in recent weeks, I was deflated and frustrated. Do you like me or my resources?
And I am a Material Girl.
Nothing is new about this: I've been asked for my ipod, computer, clothes, hair, money, camera, shoes, water bottle, purse, refrigerator, and pen a million times. Sometimes by kids on the road, "give me a pen!" or "give me a dirham (moroccan currency);" sometimes by people attending my classes, "that ipod is nice, give it to me;" sometimes by friends, "I like your scarf, give it to me when you leave." A teenage girl in Marrakesh even asked for my ice cream cone - that was offensive on a whole new level. I seriously needed that ice cream cone on that day, if only she knew! Despite my current status as a poorly dressed volunteer, something about me screams 'opportunity' to the people around me.
Living in a Material World.
An association of well-meaning French women came to Tazarine last Spring, passing out free pens and notebooks while they traveled. Without being overly critical of their motivations, it's incredibly easy to throw money at people. It's what the developed world has done for years in the form of aid, sponsored children and money in the communion basket. Try to get those same people to mentor a child, and well, "I don't have time for that."
And I am a Material Girl.
One of the ongoing challenges of any Peace Corps volunteer (or any Westerner living in the developing world) is to demonstrate that we are here to work and develop relationships, not as a walking piggy bank. When I first arrived, my supervisor informed me that my legacy would be to get a photocopy machine at the youth center. My rebellious nature immediately and internally countered with a "hell no." I was determined that my legacy would live inside the hearts and minds of the Tazarine people, not as a piece of technology. Is this stubborn and short-sighted? Quite possibly. Could the youth center use a photocopy machine? It sure could, but it would mostly be used by the supervisor as a sign of his great achievements. There are also ten computers in this center that the children weren't allowed to use until this year, so baby steps with technology.
Living in a Material World.
I've grown accustomed to the friendship styles in Tazarine; while it may frustrate me, I acknowledge that gifts and the free exchange of personal goods is part of the game. I bring posters of Adam Lambert from America and she helps me sort out issues with my landlord. My reaction to the kitchen sink request was unusual - it's practical since her mother has severe back issues from using a bucket on the ground for 45 years; yet her recent involvement of my family members has turned me sour. It's okay to bother me with these things, but don't spread the guilt.
And I am a Material Girl.
Maybe that is the rub. Ignoring the nagging guilt has become a habit for me but it becomes real again when family members inquire about it. I've learned to rationalize my wealth; I use my computers and ipods for work, I am accustomed to having a larger wardrobe for different seasons, I need two of everything in case one breaks. There are days when I give freely, and there are days when I am tired of being asked. I don't want my friendship to come with ropes attached. I don't want to be reminded of the massive difference between us.
Living in a Material World.
This is why we flood countries with goods instead of smiling faces and helping hands. Why we have a picture of the sponsored Ugandan girl on our fridge instead of meeting her. Why we give money to the church and stay away from the volunteer center. When we step outside our front door, we realize that we can't justify everything in our living room and bank account. The reality of the have and have-nots can be soul-crushing. Her mom has back pain and just wants a kitchen sink - my Christmas list is comparatively shameful.
And I am a Material Girl.
As I made my excuses for leaving early, I realized that I was only sprinting to the door because of my level of discomfort. During a lunch with one of my closest friends in town, she had asked to borrow my internet modem, usb stick, book, guitar, and bike. On top of this, a request for money to build a kitchen sink was requested from both myself and a previous volunteer. Remembering the letters, emails and in-person requests for various items she had sent to both my parents, other volunteers and even parents of other volunteers in recent weeks, I was deflated and frustrated. Do you like me or my resources?
And I am a Material Girl.
Nothing is new about this: I've been asked for my ipod, computer, clothes, hair, money, camera, shoes, water bottle, purse, refrigerator, and pen a million times. Sometimes by kids on the road, "give me a pen!" or "give me a dirham (moroccan currency);" sometimes by people attending my classes, "that ipod is nice, give it to me;" sometimes by friends, "I like your scarf, give it to me when you leave." A teenage girl in Marrakesh even asked for my ice cream cone - that was offensive on a whole new level. I seriously needed that ice cream cone on that day, if only she knew! Despite my current status as a poorly dressed volunteer, something about me screams 'opportunity' to the people around me.
Living in a Material World.
An association of well-meaning French women came to Tazarine last Spring, passing out free pens and notebooks while they traveled. Without being overly critical of their motivations, it's incredibly easy to throw money at people. It's what the developed world has done for years in the form of aid, sponsored children and money in the communion basket. Try to get those same people to mentor a child, and well, "I don't have time for that."
And I am a Material Girl.
One of the ongoing challenges of any Peace Corps volunteer (or any Westerner living in the developing world) is to demonstrate that we are here to work and develop relationships, not as a walking piggy bank. When I first arrived, my supervisor informed me that my legacy would be to get a photocopy machine at the youth center. My rebellious nature immediately and internally countered with a "hell no." I was determined that my legacy would live inside the hearts and minds of the Tazarine people, not as a piece of technology. Is this stubborn and short-sighted? Quite possibly. Could the youth center use a photocopy machine? It sure could, but it would mostly be used by the supervisor as a sign of his great achievements. There are also ten computers in this center that the children weren't allowed to use until this year, so baby steps with technology.
Living in a Material World.
I've grown accustomed to the friendship styles in Tazarine; while it may frustrate me, I acknowledge that gifts and the free exchange of personal goods is part of the game. I bring posters of Adam Lambert from America and she helps me sort out issues with my landlord. My reaction to the kitchen sink request was unusual - it's practical since her mother has severe back issues from using a bucket on the ground for 45 years; yet her recent involvement of my family members has turned me sour. It's okay to bother me with these things, but don't spread the guilt.
And I am a Material Girl.
Maybe that is the rub. Ignoring the nagging guilt has become a habit for me but it becomes real again when family members inquire about it. I've learned to rationalize my wealth; I use my computers and ipods for work, I am accustomed to having a larger wardrobe for different seasons, I need two of everything in case one breaks. There are days when I give freely, and there are days when I am tired of being asked. I don't want my friendship to come with ropes attached. I don't want to be reminded of the massive difference between us.
Living in a Material World.
This is why we flood countries with goods instead of smiling faces and helping hands. Why we have a picture of the sponsored Ugandan girl on our fridge instead of meeting her. Why we give money to the church and stay away from the volunteer center. When we step outside our front door, we realize that we can't justify everything in our living room and bank account. The reality of the have and have-nots can be soul-crushing. Her mom has back pain and just wants a kitchen sink - my Christmas list is comparatively shameful.
And I am a Material Girl.
Absolutely dead-on, dear daughter!
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