The Volunteer’s Dilemma

I gave a third of my monthly salary to a complete stranger last week.

I’m still not entirely sure why. I might be having a ¾ service crisis, or I might have finally assimilated into Togolese culture. It’s hard to say.

A year ago, when my parents were preparing for a trip around the world, I advised them to create a traveler’s philosophy on giving out money. It is something that they would come across frequently and it’s important to decide how to deal with it. Some people will give out money to beggars, some only donate to organizations, others none at all. There is no real “right” answer, but it’s important to take into consideration the mindset of dependence you create and the standards you are setting for future visitors.

My decision while working abroad has always been that I am giving the people all I consistently have: my hard work and dedication. There will always be people in need of money. Poor people, sick children, hospital bills, empty stomachs. The reality is, one person with a pocket full of money is never going to be able to help the entire world. My work is generally focused on capacity building, program development, and policy, with the hopes that a strengthened organization could do more to help the community than I could on my own. So my personal philosophy is to never give out money. Ever. I think it causes more harm than good in the long run.

So after almost two years of people saying, “Yovo! Cadeau! Il faut me donner quelque chose!” (Or for all you Anglophones out there : “White person! Present! Give me something ! ”) I’ve always responded with « Je suis le cadeau ! Je travaille pour la communauté, pour les gens ici. Je suis une volontaire, je n’ai pas l’argent, je peux te donner seulement mon temps » (“I am the present ! I work for the community and the people here. I’m a volunteer and don’t have money. I can only give you my time”).

But, I’m a rule breaker. “Guidelines are there to be broken” if I may paraphrase my very wise mother (however, this may not be an exact quote, she always says I hear what I want to hear). It’s happened twice (this surgery, and the medical bills for three HIV+ orphans I know). And because it’s viewed as such an unsustainable way to help people, I’ve always been too embarrassed to tell other people.

And for good reason. Don’t think me heartless, but I truly believe it is important to recognize the unintended consequences of good intentions and giving. International aid has left people off far worse than when they started, and for reasons that people write entire books about, it can cause damage to the entire population in the long run. I will readily admit that all of my international experience thus far may, in the long run, be detrimental to those I tried to help. Not solely because of me, but as a cog of the greater international aid wheel. I am not saying that I regret having these experiences, but I am the greatest beneficiary. The work and help given in Russia, Uganda, Ecuador, and Togo all pales in comparison to what I got out of it: personal growth, resume boost, travel, languages learned, adventures, etc. In a very superficial way, the people I’ve met in my travels have been “helped.” But not in a sustainable fashion.

But back to the stranger with all my money. It was a confusing start. My friends Naka and Austin had arrived at my gate, I had gotten off work and was hanging out with my marché mamas down the road. So I walked back to greet them. They had a Togolese woman with them, which is not uncommon, I assumed just another village friend that accompanied them. I ushered them all into my compound and began to regale Naka and Austin with my snake experience. After a few minutes, Naka asked if I was going to talk to my friend. “Friend?” I asked, “I thought she was with you!” I went out onto my porch to see who this women was, and why she’d come.

She explained that she was asking people in the neighborhood for help. Her sister needed money for a stomach surgery and it would be impossible to pay it themselves-especially because they had already paid all the pharmacy bills. She showed me the bill for the imminent surgery - it was 43,800CFA (500CFA is a dollar; the average Togolese person is paid 10-15,000 a month, if thatThere are very few people that make anywhere near what I do (120,000 a month = around $240…I know.. raking in the dough with that college degree). ). I am one of the most affluent people I know. But all the same, between travel, food, bills, etc, I tend to break even every month. So 40,000CFA is a lot of money to me as well.

We talked some more and she told me about her family, and her life in general. I didn’t know what to say, so I told her I would think about it over night and for her to come back in the morning. She appeared the next morning and we chatted again. At this point, I still had not made a decision. But my instinct was that I really liked the woman and found her genuine. I went with my gut and gave her the 40,000CFA (leaving her family to come up with the 3,800).
It seems extravagant. I know it is. But there was a lot to take into consideration.

1.I have been to the hospitals here. They are a terrifying place to be, and outrageously expensive. No wonder everyone goes to the traditional healers.

2.I just got back from America (where I had procedures done for my own stomach issues, the lab work alone was over $100) and a surgery would be in the thousands.

3.I’ve been in a very reflective mood since coming back, with four months of service left, trying to figure out what I’ve actually done; if I’ve actually helped anyone since being here.

4.Whereas it might be inconvenient for me to not have the money for a month, it would be out of the question to even come up with the money, much less pay it off.

The next day, I went to the hospital to visit my new friend Amelie and her family at the hospital. It turns out when she said she needed money for her sister for a surgery, it was for her sister’s ten year old son. This little boy was wrapped in a single pagne on a rickety old hospital bed jammed in a room that was wall to wall with beds filled with patients. His mother assured me without the surgery he would have died. Amelie pulled back her nephews cover to reveal a bandage that went from his sternum to his belly button. He was grimacing in pain but still managed to give me a weak smile and say thank you.

After visiting the hospital, Amelie took me to her house nearby, and I met the seven kids she takes care of. She gave me food and chook and we spent the rest of the day sitting under her papaya tree, talking. She cooked dinner for Liam and I, while we listened to the African Cup game. The following day, Amelie came and cleaned my house for eight hours straight (it’s not THAT dirty, she is just thorough…). She’s planning on taking me to her family’s village in Benin as soon as it’s possible. I never asked or expected anything back from Amelie or the family, but she is absolutely set on doing everything in her power to thank me for helping save her nephew’s life.

Time will tell if what I’ve done has helped or hindered. It might not be the right step in fixing the world’s problems, and it is certainly not sustainable, but I don’t feel bad about going against my own word. The little boy is leaving the hospital tomorrow. Right or wrong, I am happy knowing that there are at least a few people that I can truly say that I helped.