call me tony

Don’t call me volunteer, don’t even try.

I’m a professional; I must be, to build aqueducts in developing countries.

Let’s be clear. Most of the times I’m even against volunteers. Especially those unskilled who go to ”Africa” (just to be unpredictable and vague) to ”help” poor ”colored” people serving high protein food (like insipid soya derivate porridge) sent by a Sunday church group or a rich female organization, as ’colored people’ are not able to serve their own food.

And you may say: so what? Kenya has no engineers to build their own aqueducts?

Yes, of course, Kenya has. And also many other countries in which ’we’ usually work. It’s, I don’t say rare or even unusual, but it’s accidental to work in a country where there’s no better technician than you. But most of the funds we manage, comes from white Caucasian entities and the donors feel more secure if ’we’ manage the money.

Unfortunately it’s not merely paranoia. I’ve seen in many occasions wonderful projects derailed because managed by locals. For many reasons. And none of them contemplate stupidity or lacking of knowledge. A Haitian engineer earns 600 USD/month. Try to give him 3.5 millions. The temptation is tyrant. Especially if they grew up without water supply system at home and they think that wasn’t soooo bad. (try also to give 3.5 millions to manage to an Italian politician. Even if he earns 20,000 EUR/month the result it’s the same. But in this case it’s pure avidity, not the invaluable possibility to change life expectancy for you and all your beloved). Moreover in some places, building an aqueduct is merely political. Maybe the NGO considered a specific community more in need, but the mother of a parliamentary comes from the next village. And he goes to visit the Tanzanian engineer family…Or, last example I swear, you are the chief in command, but many people depend from you. The masons, the accountants, the drivers, and slowly some allusions, some hints, some glances…and you part the cake.

Happened once in Tibet. An NGO fully managed by Tibetans (I mean, Tibetans…not the Sopranos) had to build a school. The Spanish president came to visit together with the donor representative and…simply the school was not there. Not even a stone.

I mean. All the receipt were fake, all the car logbooks fake, the material distribution documents, the reports, the pictures…that’s was not a one man show.

Anyway: ’we’ manage the money. And before buying few meters of pipes, we have to follow some guidelines that in comparison the Bible is a sketchy cheatsheet. That’s why we are professional and why we are working. Of course they check us. But they know, in case, how to find us. And to turn us in pariah of the international cooperation.

I’m not saying AT ALL expatriate are good people. Please…don’t be ridiculous.

I met men with double families (one in Europe and one in Angola), and double children. I’ve met a battalion of women, from Indonesia to Haiti, still waiting for the ’prince fucking charming’ to come back and rescue them as promised.

And I’ve listened stories about drug addicted in Afghanistan and Country Coordinators who sent home solid wood furniture whom supposed to be in some school in Vietnam.

Power junkies, burned out, mercenaries, new style colonialists, Freudian topos…All kind of flavors.

Even people that were probably ’normal’ ten years ago, living constantly in deep stress, with no family support, changing friends, colleagues, language, landscape, house, office, political situation, endemic diseases, climate, tasks, project and donors every four months to three years, became unstable.

And you have to be professional to live like this.

So, don’t call me ’volunteer’. Call me Tony.

And I have the best job ever.