On sugar daddy NGOs

I came to Bolivia with a preconceived notion of what “development” would look like on the ground. I assumed that anyone associated with an NGO, a conservation organization, or a religious mission would be met with an attitude ranging from curiosity to indifference to angry resistance to “white people’s charity.”

Though the “white man’s burden” attitude is no longer politically correct, now we simply “teach” developing countries our neoclassic economic model, how to “develop” their resources, and what things they should want from life.

Before arriving, I assumed I would encounter a fair amount of people who would take one look at me, learn who I’m working for, and think/say “fuck off gringa, we don’t need your damn help.”

Honestly, I think I would prefer this response.

Instead I’ve found that mayors, community leaders, artisans, logger cooperatives, etc are all begging for “apoyo” [support]. Maybe instead of begging I should say waiting. Passively waiting.

In the variety of interviews that I’ve conducted for the documentaries, no one has failed to mention an amazing list of things they would have done if they had the funds. This, in of itself, I can understand. But it is the passiveness with which it is said that seems so sickening. Everyone points to land disputes or destruction of the environment with resignation, saying that they would do something about it if only the NGOs would stop giving money to the El Tigre community and start giving some money to them.

When I accompanied an NGO in our consortium to some of their “tallers” [workshops] to educate the people about the new land-use planning tool, I was rather shocked to watch the workshops conducted. Rather than asking the people what their priorities were for their land, the NGO workers simply told them: here is where the school will go, here is where you are allowed to farm, here is where you will eat, shit, etc.

But crazier still is that many people are accepting this relationship without questioning.

When I was in Ixiamas a few weeks ago there was a bread strike. Some community leaders had gotten everyone all riled up because the price of bread went up from 4 pieces for 15 cents to 3 pieces for 15 cents. A sizeable crowd followed several angry leaders to the mayor’s office where they filled the large entryway and still more spilled outside into the hot sun.

Bread prices were rising because of some other factors in La Paz, some 400 kilometers away, that are beyond the control of anyone here. I asked some people why they don’t grow wheat, etc here, because the soil is fertile. I didn’t get any good answers, but finally one man explained to me that this region used to grow all its own food, but when the logging fever began they abandoned these practices for quick money. Though the mahogany is now depleted, logging still goes on, but even with that income people still struggle to feed their families. One logger told me he was paid 36 dollars to cut down ONE THOUSAND trees. It took him a month.

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Bolivia is a land of contradictions. It is at once a peaceful, harmonious place with kind people, lush nature and simultaneously a poor country, pervaded by duplicitous capitalistic methods and people desperate to better their lives, often according to a Western standard of values.

And who the hell am I to tell them what they should want? I take a strange comfort in knowing that my role here is a journalistic one, and that I am here to listen, rather than to “educate.”

But I’m pissed off. So many people I talk to are purely interested in the chance that I can get them funds from my NGO. Obviously, I have little to no power to influence how USAID or others in the consortium spend their money. So I pity the people who don’t realize this; I pity their childlike dependency on help from the outside. And yet pity is so damn insulting and patronizing.

And that’s the trouble with sugar-daddies. Soon you lose respect for both the pimped-out cash-dispenser and the sycophant receiver. I mean not every john/prostitute relationship can end like “Pretty Woman,” but one would hope that some kind of freedom would be the ultimate goal.