“Not again,” I think to myself, desperately trying to shake the thought out of my head before it takes hold. Too late. For the tenth time this week, I am thrown back in time and land with a thud, picking myself up in the dusty streets of Haiti or Cameroon. What happens next is a little different each time. Sometimes its pulling water up from the well behind the house in order to take a shower. Other times it’s just walking down the street and greeting people in French, admiring the vibrant colors in people’s clothing. Still other times it’s hopping into the flatbed of Rebuild Globally’s silver pickup truck and absorbing the sights, sounds and smells of Port-au-Prince as we pull out of the workshop and merge into mid-afternoon traffic.

“Not again…”

– – – – –

It’s been over two months since I finished up my world travel marathon to Haiti and Cameroon, and yet, if you stepped inside my head, you might think I just got home yesterday. For two months, I’ve sought to stay busy, throwing myself into re-establishing friendships, taking 24 credits of classes, applying for scholarships and researching internships… anything to keep my mind off the fact that I am back in the US, and no matter where I go, this will always be my world.

The thing is, nothing can prepare you for this. Returning home and reconciling yourself to the world you once inhabited is no cakewalk. You are different, and although you may be surrounded by encouraging family and friends, you have to undertake this journey by yourself. What’s more, its not something that will wear off without putting in significant effort. You can ignore it, for a time, but it always catches up to you, oftentimes in the most inopportune times and places. Sure, it helps to stay busy, but that merely delays the inevitable.

This past week I finally broke down. For the first time since coming back, I ran out of things to distract me, and I had to face the hard fact that I am living in a reality I can barely call my own anymore.

– – – – –

The problem is, my experiences in Haiti and Cameroon feel completely disconnected from my life back here in the US. I feel disoriented, as if part of me never left while other parts of me feel like they never quite made it back. Trying to gather these disparate parts of myself is exhausting, and oftentimes it feels like an exercise in futility. My mind can’t wrap itself around the wholeness of my experiences in Haiti, Cameroon, and the US simultaneously… one always crowds out the others. And now that I am back in the US, my ability to preserve the intensity and omnipresence of those other parts is giving way. That scares me. I fear they will evaporate slowly, and one day they will vanish indefinitely into the darkness of forgotten memory, leaving me to act like nothing ever happened. Perhaps this is irrational, but I feel like I’m trying to hold sand in my hands, helplessly watching it slip through the cracks when I’m not paying attention.

I don’t want to re-assimilate back here in the US, because doing so threatens to minimize these experiences, and there are important lessons I learned in Haiti and Cameroon that have shaped the way I am. Not only that, but these lessons fly in the face of everything that I’ve learned here at home, and I hate being immersed in an environment that (by and large) doesn’t understand these parts of myself.

That is why when people ask me if its good to be back, I have a difficult time answering them. Spending time with family and friends, taking warm showers, and savoring the taste of clean tap water and the fresh chill of a cold winter day are all quite nice. But on the other hand, there are aspects of being back that I dread. I hate the unstated assumption that the “American Way” is the best way. I find it frustrating that we are told to be individualist and materialist by thousands of ads and marketing messages every day. I don’t like talking to people about surface level things like food, sports teams, and celebrities. And more often than not I tend to sit quietly and contemplate everything I no longer take for granted as people complain the internet is too slow or that traffic is bad.

But perhaps most of all, I get angry thinking about the human cost of maintaining our high-flying American culture. Business and government officials wheel-and-deal around the world in order to protect our interests abroad. We brazenly defend our military interventionist policies by spouting rhetoric about democracy and freedom. And we assume that whatever is good for America is, by extension, good for the world, because without America, the world would be in deep trouble. We need to stop kidding ourselves. We’re not “The greatest nation on earth”; we’re just “The biggest bully on the block”, and we mistake people’s desire to come to America as tacit approval of our modus-operandi, instead of what it really is: a self-interested desire to be on the winning side of a rigged geopolitical game.

Some people might say I’m being pretty harsh and ungrateful for the opportunities I’ve received. To them I say this: I am thankful for the opportunities I have been given, but I am ashamed of what it means to be an American, and I think we need to get to work fixing it. We claim that “might makes right”, and that it’s our right therefore to determine what is best for the world. We allow multinational companies to exploit, pillage, and plunder underdeveloped countries by politically strong-arming their leaders, and then we throw them pennies with development aid that indebts them and enriches American contractors. We ensuring our self-interest above all else, without realizing that this strategy isn’t in our best interest long term. In many discussions I had with people in Cameroon, America stood for individualism and excess, not freedom and democracy. I don’t think I’m wrong for thinking we need to change that.

– – – – –

As I was thinking about this last night and stressing myself out, I picked up Confessions of An Economic Hitman by John Perkins and I flipped to one of my favorite passages in the book to ease my mind. It’s 1971, and John is speaking with a group of Indonesian college students in a coffeehouse in Bandung about how they perceive America, and what can be done to change it:

“The English major looked me directly in the eyes. ‘Stop being so greedy,’ she said, ‘and so selfish. Realize that there is more to the world than your big houses and fancy stores. People are starving and you worry about oil for your cars. Babies are dying of thirst and you search the fashion magazines for the latest styles. Nations like ours are drowning in poverty, but your people don’t even hear our cries for help. You shut your ears to the voices of those who try to tell you these things. You label them radicals or Communists. You must open your hearts to the poor and downtrodden, instead of driving them further into poverty and servitude. There’s not much time left. If you don’t change, you’re doomed.’” (52-53)

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The only thing that keeps me going is the thought that I can use my experiences to change the way people act, and that by extension we can change the world. We need to reorient ourselves away from material wealth and turn towards spiritual wealth. In essence, this means leading a life that demonstrates you hold certain virtues as priceless, such as love, justice, equality, freedom, sufficiency, etc.

At the end of the day, I don’t want to assimilate back into American culture. I want to take the lessons I learned abroad and integrate them into the culture around me, transforming it into a more holistic, life-promoting social construct. If America truly wants to be the greatest country on earth, we must strive to encourage all people to pursue spiritual wealth, moving beyond  economic idolatry towards the notion that every person is priceless and worthy of love, justice, equality, and freedom, regardless of race, religion, nationality or creed.

Call me a radical, an outlier, a dreamer… that’s fine. But by living my life in this way, I plan to leave the world just a bit more caring, just, and equitable, and if you agree with me, I hope you’ll join me too.

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Thanks for visiting aarondanowski.com! Leave you comments below, and be sure to stay up to date on my travels by clicking on the “Following” button on the right hand side of your page!

If you would like to contact me directly, please do so via email: adanowski@zagmail.gonzaga.edu

Ever since I arrived back in Portland on December 14th, I’ve been busy reflecting on the only question that has keep me sane in the aftermath of my trip to Cameroon: What now?

Many people have told me to take it easy, or to wait until I get back to school to start contemplating the question of what’s next, or simply to enjoy the present and let that be enough. For better or for worse, I find that to be impossible. The jarring, and indeed disorienting, disparity between the reality in Cameroon and the reality I am now confronted with back home is too great to ignore; The only way to put my mind at ease is to identify how I plan on bringing these two realities together in my life. I need to begin the long, arduous process of understanding what going to Cameroon meant for me.

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Yaounde, Cameroon

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Portland, Oregon

When I decided to go to Cameroon, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I only knew that it was something I had to do. “Had” with a capital H. There was no doubt in my mind that this was an experience that would fundamentally alter the way I perceive the world. It was a hard thing to explain to my parents at first, but as my Mom told me later on “I could either let you go or tell you no and have you hate me for it.” There was something compelling me to go, and only an act of God would keep me from following through with it.

I didn’t have a plan for how it would fit in my life long term. I just knew I had questions that couldn’t be answered by sitting in a classroom in Spokane: How does the world really work? What environments do I thrive in? What issues should I dedicate myself to champion? And what kind of lifestyle will I need to adopt in order to do so?

In many ways, taking the semester to study international development and culture it was a similar leap of faith as abandoning my plan to study engineering the summer before starting college. But both times, I felt that there was more out there waiting for me to learn, to experience, to discover, and if I didn’t seize the moment, I would regret it. I didn’t know where going to Cameroon was leading me, but I was emboldened by the words of Steve Jobs in his 2006 Stanford Commencement Speech (which I’ve written about before):

“…you can’t connect the dots looking forward. You can only connect them looking backwards. You have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future… you have to trust in something, your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever, because believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart, even when it leads you off the well worn path… and that will make all the difference.”

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Looking out over Yaounde from the Palais de Congress (September 2015)

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I experienced just about every emotion on the spectrum in Cameroon: joy, exhilaration, fear, sadness, doubt, epiphany, love, and heartbreak for the state of the world. Looking back, amidst all the things I experienced, three important lessons stand out that are crucial for answering the “What now?” question:

1. Life is made rich by the people you live with and the values you live for.

 

2. The political and economic power structures that dominate the world today must be reformed in order to prioritize environmental sustainability and social justice, values that will benefit the majority of humanity.

 

3. Ideas have the power to challenge and overthrow entrenched systems, but only when they compel people with a vision of a better future and a sense of urgency to start moving towards it.

Diving into the intricacies of these three lessons would take more space than I have here, but suffice it to say that spending four months in Cameroon with such incredible, passionate peers and examining the shortcomings of international development over the past 80 years, as well as conducting independent research on the state of social entrepreneurship in the country resulted in one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. Now comes the tricky part: applying these lessons moving forward.

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Gonzaga at sunset (March 2015)

My current plan is to use this semester back at Gonzaga as a time of reflection and preparation for the next chapter in my quest to make a living and change the world. Specifically, I plan on investing time in exploring summer internships with think tanks and research programs focused on advancing economic, environmental, and social justice agendas. I’ll also begin to shift my focus towards preparing for graduate programs in international studies that examine the economic and political power structures that shape the world today. Lastly, I want to explore how I can share my experiences with audiences across the United States interested in learning about how they can serve as agents of change to usher in a new age of social justice based on solidarity, social innovation, and empathy.

Thankfully, I am not alone in this quest. There are thousands of people who have dedicated their lives to similar goals, learning from individuals and grassroots organizations all over the world and sharing their stories with the public. In fact, in an upcoming post I’ll be sharing my 10 favorite TED talks by people doing just that! By listening to the stories of these men and women, we can build empathy and find inspiration to solve the greatest challenges of our day and age: climate change, inequality, discrimination (of all types), hunger, and the demise of popular democracy in the face of corporate power and greed.

Together, we can, we must, and we will change the world. All it takes is an ounce of faith and the will to persevere.

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Since I officially launched this website on December 28, 2014, over the past year it has received 3,733 views from hundreds of visitors in 63 countries… To each and every person who took the time to accompany me on my travels, thank you so much for your company. I never imagined I would be able to reach so many people with my stories and perspective. I hope you have found some food for thought in my words and photos, and if so, I would love to read your comments about your favorite posts, things you took away over the past year, or things you would like me to talk about in the near future! Here’s to another great year!

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Thanks for visiting aarondanowski.com! Leave you comments below, and be sure to stay up to date on my travels by clicking on the “Following” button on the right hand side of your page!

If you would like to contact me directly, please do so via email: adanowski@zagmail.gonzaga.edu

What would you do to provide for your family? Travel thousands of miles? Risk your life navigating terrorist-occupied forests or the bone dry Sahara Desert? Spend three months in prison? Go years without seeing them? Abdoulai (below,left) and Kaladou (below, right) not only would… they have.

In one of the most heartbreaking and vulnerable exchanges of my life, I spent two hours listening to the stories of these two 28 year old Senegalese men who have risked their health and safety again and again for the sake of their loved ones back home… with no end in sight. When I dropped by the cornerstore down the street Saturday afternoon to say goodbye to Abdoulai, they gave me a free bottle of Coca Cola and allowed me to step into their shoes and see life from their perspective, and their stories rocked me to my core…

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He finally decided to take the risk , so he picked up his things and left. After two weeks spent trekking through the Sahara desert and watching those around him die of thirst and exhaustion, Abdoulai peered over the bow of the boat full of migrants traversing the Mediterranean and saw the blurry lights of Italy on the horizon. They were distant, but for a second, they shone with bright potential of a new life, a life that promised economic stability. But it only lasted for a second, because soon after that, the Abdoulai’s boat was caught by the Italian Coastguard and was sent back to Libya. Upon being offloaded in Tripoli, Abdoulai and his fellow migrants spent three months in a Libyan prison, being beaten by the security guards, and being given minimal food and water before ultimately being let loose in the desert and told to go home. After returning to Cameroon for a short time and saving up his money, Abdoulai made a second attempt to make it to Italy, traveling to Lake Chad in the Extreme North of Cameroon and payingCapture64 smugglers to help him reach Libya. That time, his boat successfully made it to shore in Italy, only to have the migrants apprehended by local authorities and sent back to Libya. Since then, Abdoulai has searched unsuccessfully for full-time work in Senegal, Benin, Nigeria, and Cameroon that can support his parents and elder brothers back in Senegal, but all he has managed to find is his work at the cornerstore that barely pays enough to send anything back at all. Ultimately, he finds it better to save up his money to try and make it to Italy a third time. He understands the risks, but the reward is too much to turn down: “You see two boats leave, one capsizes and everyone in it dies, but you keep going, that’s how it is… When you go live in Europe and have your papers in order, you can come back and visit your friends, but when you only spend your life in Africa its not good, you won’t have anything, just difficulties.”

For Kaladou, his journey started in 2001 at the age of 15, when he left to find work in Morocco for 5 years to provide for his widowed mother. When he returned with approximately $1300 , his uncle took it all and sent him to the Congo where he found work as a dishwasher for 6 months and did odd jobs for another 2 ½ years before returning to Senegal. Once back, he married and had three children (“their names are Tijang, Saidou, and Fatima”, he tells me), and he worked for 4 years to provide for his growing family with limited success. Since 2013 he has been steadily making his way down the African coast seeking opportunities that earn enough money to send back to his family. Recently, a smuggler that promised to take him from Senegal to Yaounde left him stranded in Nigeria, and when he called his uncle asking him to pay back some of the money he had earned, he refused. After three months working odd jobs in Capture65Nigeria, he managed to scrape together enough money to join a group trekking across the Nigerian border. On their journey through the forest, he told me they came across corpses, victims of Boko Haram, laying strewn on the ground. They lived in fear for several days, afraid that they would be next. Luckily, he made it safely to Yaounde, and how he is working as a shoe repairman and sending back what he can each month (he showed me the remittance transfer for November: 20,000 CFA, about $32). His ultimate goal is to save up and reach Equatorial Guinea. “They treat people very poorly over there” he tells me, “but we’re obligated to go. If that’s where I can earn a living. When your kids call you and say “we need money for food”, and when your wife and your mother say the same thing… it’s a big problem… I leave for work at 6 am and get back at 6 pm, but you know when your kids are back there, your wife is back there, you can’t just shrug your shoulders, what are they going to eat? You have to fight, and if you find a little bit, you send it back.”

– – – – –

I was shell-shocked walking away from our discussion… these two friendly guys who I’d been saying hi to at the corner store for the past month were two of the most courageous, hardworking people I’d ever met, and both of their lives could very well serve as the basis for Hollywood movies. But the thing that struck me most about Abdoulai and Kaladou’s stories was that they highlight the imperative that exists for developed countries to acknowledge that the Mediterranean migrant crisis is not going away, and if anything, is only going to get worse. Both of these men have literally risked life and limb in pursuit of economic opportunity for themselves and their families, because they realize they no scenario exists where they and their children have a bright future when they are forced to migrate to merely scrape by. With the best population estimates expecting Africa’s population to make up 1/4th of the world population by 2050, its imperative to ensure Abdoulai and Kaladou’s children’s generation feels like they have a future in Africa… or else the entire world will suffer the consequences.

So what would that require? Well, given the fact that record numbers of refugees and economic migrants from Africa like Abdoulai are landing on the beaches of Europe seeking a better life, we need to examine what is forcing them to risk their lives in the first place. On the surface, the answer is easy: there is a lack of jobs in Africa, so people go elsewhere looking for work. Digging a layer deeper however, we find the root problem: Africa’s economy is based on the export of raw materials, such as timber, oil, rare earth materials (which power the technology industry), aluminum, and plantation grown fruits and vegetables,as opposed to the model the industrial world is built on, which is the transformation of raw materials (creating rubber, steel and concrete and producing computer chips and building airplanes). This phenomenon is clearly visible in the Food and Agriculture Organization of the UN’s 2014 “State of the World’s Forests” report, which shows that Africa is the only continent where primary materials make up the bulk of the economic value added by forests. Every other continent derives most of their forests’ economic value from processing industries… and the contrast is stark:

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Source: Les Communautes de Pratique Forets Modelles: Pour un Basculement du Paradigme Participatif dans L’economie Sociale et la Transformation Structurelle,  by Diaw MC, Nguiebouri J., Gagoe Tchoko J., NgoBaneg MF., Vambi B., Nlend E. and Keugni MC.

In more concrete terms, this means that, while a tree that is cut down in Cameroon creates a job for man or woman selling charcoal, or the person exporting the tree out of the country, a tree that is cut down in the US creates a job for the logger, the truck driver that transports the tree to the processing plant, the workers at the lumber plant that transforms the tree into two by fours, another truck driver who delivers the lumber to Home Depot, the guy at Home Depot in charge of the lumber department, and the construction worker who buys the wood and uses it to build a house… not to mention a job at the EPA to ensure the logging company replants trees after logging!

This layered transformation of raw materials is called a value chain, and the lack of value chains in Africa extends to most raw material industries here in Cameroon and in other sub-Saharan African countries, which makes stories like Abdoulai’s and Kaladou’s all too common. In a way, its kind of our fault… Under the current global economic system, its implicitly understood that stories like Abdoulai and Kaladou’s are “collateral damage” in the process of ensuring that the US and European countries can exert their control over African raw materials and transform them themselves, rather than allowing local African industries to develop and buying finished products from Cameroon, Namibia, or Tanzania.

If we are serious about ending the migrant crisis and reducing the number of human tragedies like the ones witnessed off the coast of Italy over the last several years, we need to realize that true African development can only happen when local value chains and industries develop that transform raw materials and create employment and wealth in sustainable ways that stay in Africa. Even if a multinational company like Firestone comes to a country like Liberia and employs some local people to work on a rubber plantation, or an international logging company employs some Cameroonians, the economic value of those resources is still being drained out of the African context… which contributes to the cycle of poverty and underdevelopment. As Dr. Mariteuw Chimere Diaw, a Senegalese PhD holder running a social enterprise called Africa Model Forest Network here in Yaounde explained to me several weeks ago:

“The mining industry, the forest industry, they are totally oriented toward exporting raw material. When you look at it, people [are] investing a lot [of energy] into issues of rights and deliberative democracy, formal democracy, all kinds of democratic things, but the economy is too weak, so people jump into the sea to cross the ocean, so what is your democracy bringing to them?”

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So what concretely can be done to resolve this problem, to restore Africa’s future? One thing is for sure: the solution is not more development aid from the US and other developed countries. Aid money does not address the root cause of the economic problems Africa faces. Development aid is the token solution that conveniently produces some feel good stories and impacts a few people, but it distracts from the root of the problem, which is the global economic system that is skewed by political maneuvering to favor the most powerful countries in the world. Its why populist leaders like Mossadegh in Iran, Arbenz in Guatemala, Allende in Chile, Roldos in Ecuador, Torrijos in Panama, and Lumumba in the Congo, who refused to cede to Western interests, met with untimely fates. Whenever a new government takes power in a country rich with raw materials, they know they must tread a fine line between appeasing the powers that be by granting them access to raw materials and looking out for the best interests of their people… and development aid projects often serve as a nice compromise.

But there is some good news: See, since the issue is economic at its core, that means it is a system driven by the everyday purchases we make as consumers. As such, we can consciously choose to fight against the systemic violence and exploitation that currently ravage the African continent and produce stories like Abdoulai’s and Kaladou’s. We have the power to contribute our voice to the chorus calling for an economic system that provides opportunities for people like Abdoulai and Kaladou. One of the best ways to do so is by buying products made by local cooperatives and social enterprises in developing countries, rather than the big companies that don’t invest in jobs and production facilities in these communities. Here are a few examples (perfect for you last minute Christmas shoppers!):

Want some bath or beauty products that support local economies in Africa? Check out Rain Africa, a South African organization with a commitment to “provide jobs, skills and hope to people living in desperate poverty, particularly women and the disabled. Our production cycle is deliberately low-tech and labour intensive. Our products and packaging are hand-made by trained crafters. We support small local suppliers and producers. Our wild ingredients are hand-harvested by women living in remote areas of Southern Africa where economic opportunities are almost non-existent. We are the only Southern African beauty and body product company which is accredited by both Fair Trade in Africa and the international Fair Trade body in Europe.”

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Another organization, “Proudly Made in Africa“, identifies and exports high quality finished African products to European markets, but many of the products they promote (from coffee, footwear, and jams to garments and beauty products) can be searched and bought online via this page on their website. You can also check out a short animation below produced by a Kenyan production company detailing their business model!

 

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And finally, for an even greater selection of products from cooperatives and local communities around the world, check out Serrv, a nonprofit fair trade organization that proudly believes that “disadvantaged artisans and farmers around the world should have the opportunity to break the cycle of poverty and support their families through fair payments and respectful relationships. Every basket, every tablecloth, every necklace we offer has a story behind it–of an empowered artisan or farmer who works in a safe environment, can send his or her children to school, and can save for the future with the reliable income he or she earns through fair trade.”

 

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While those actions support the initiatives that have already started, lots of work needs to be done on the legislative side to incentivize large companies to invest in local production facilities rather than simply exporting raw materials to be transformed in China or the US. Maybe one day you’ll order a smartphone by the Kenyan version of Apple, or the “Dell” of Cameroon… but that may be too optimistic given the number of international institutional reforms that would need to take place to provide space for such organizations. Whatever the case, it’s only a matter of time before the current (dare I say neocolonial?) economic system is forced to undergo some massive readjustments, as Dr. Chimere expressed to me in our meeting:

“There is a struggle between the old ways of producing wealth and [the] need to do it differently. And that is going to be discussed a little bit in Paris, at COP 21, and we’ll see what comes out of it, but fundamentally, to me, the discussion and the stakes that are behind it are the stakes about the new economy… it’s not conceivable that Africans will just remain poor, they’re too wealthy, you know, with their environment, all the natural resources, all the untapped wealth that exists for this to continue forever. But whether it’s going to be slow, whether we’re going to control it or whether some other entity is going to control most of it, that has yet to be decided… I do believe that there is room for a collaborative economy that isn’t going to be one dimensional,[but] it’s going to have very different ways of existing, of emerging. It has already started, but a lot will be decided by the way Africa is going to catch up.”

Hopefully that economy will develop in time for Kaladou’s children, Tijang, Saidou, and Fatima, to know they have a future in Africa.

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Thanks for visiting aarondanowski.com! Leave you comments below, and be sure to stay up to date on my travels by clicking on the “Following” button on the right hand side of your page!

If you would like to contact me directly, please do so via email: adanowski@zagmail.gonzaga.edu

Hi everyone!

Sorry for the delayed blog update, this past month has been very busy for my peers and I here in Cameroon: completing four research papers, preparing for my upcoming independent study project, and traveling in areas with little to no internet connectivity forced me to delay writing this post! I wanted to take a chance to reflect on one of the most important things I’ve learned over here in Cameroon: Africa is more than just poverty, war, and disease.

That seems pretty obvious, but it’s an important thing to stress. Nine out of every ten images we get in the US of Africa are poor children asking for donations, news reports talking about political violence and showing images of refugees, or stories about HIV/AIDS, Malaria, or Ebola. There are over 600 million people on the African subcontinent, and the vast majority of them have their lives characterized by much more than the news reports we see in the US. So, without further ado, let me give you a few glimpses into the lives of Africans that you won’t see on the news:

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Rigobert, a middle aged taxi driver for SIT, looks out over the capital city of Yaounde. This was my first glimpse of the city in the daylight after arriving the night before.

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An all-electric bus making the rounds at the University of Yaounde I, one of two state universities in the capital city.Yaounde I has over 45,000 students enrolled, and the bus serves to ferry students up and down the hill on which the university is built.

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Hundreds of exercisers warm up together on a foggy Saturday morning in Yaounde. Each weekend, they come together early in the morning to catch up with friends and work out together by running up and down the hilly landscape of Yaounde.

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A pottery workshop at the only professional art school in Cameroon, located in the city of Mbalmayo. The white man on the left has never made pottery in his life, and couldn’t to save his life, as he told our group when we went to visit. Rather, he helps to run the finances of the art school and leaves the training and sculpting up to the professional on the right and his students.

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The three Cameroonian students on the program with us this semester: Ydrine (left, 26), Sarah (middle, 28), and Lamerant (right, 19). Ydrine is studying to be a lawyer at University of Yaounde II, Sarah just finished her masters in History at Yaounde I, and Lamerant is a Biochemistry major who was a Yale Global Scholar this past summer, travelling to New Haven, Connecticut to take courses on international relations, political science, and leadership.

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Allison (left) and Serge (right) sitting next to Andre Manga, Cameroon’s most famous musician. Andre plays bass for Josh Groban on his world tours, and when he isn’t with “Josh” (as he called him), he splits his time between Los Angeles and Yaounde, working as a talent scout mentoring young Cameroonian musician.

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My host family in the southern coastal town of Kribi.Jehovani (left, 10), Henri (middle, 22), and Charlenne (right, 14). Henri works for a construction company in town, and his dream is to one day earn his driver’s license and own a car.

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A train of students returning home after school one afternoon in Kribi. Education is highly stressed in all the communities we’ve visited here, and you can tell which school each student goes to based on the color of the uniforms they wear.

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Christiane (left), the academic director of SIT Cameroon, and her siblings admiring the clouds and the scenery at Saddle Hill Ranch in the North West region of Cameroon. The sky here is incredible… sometimes I wonder if the clouds are just trying to one up each other day after day!

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A concert at the Goethe Institute (the German Cultural Center) in Yaounde. Singer and guitarist Elsa M’Bala (center) is one of the few women musicians who play an instrument in Cameroon. In an interview several of my peers and I did with her and her band before the show, they couldn’t think of more than 7 in the entire country.

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My host brother, Frankie (16), on our way back from a soccer game at the chefferie in the rural village of Batoufam. Frankie’s dream is to become a commercial airline pilot, and when I asked him if he thought life here was difficult, he looked at me funny and said not at all. They have everything they need to live a good life, he told me: plenty of water (there’s a river nearby), highly productive land to grow food, and livestock such as pigs, chickens, and rabbits to breed and eat.

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An after-school basketball game at the Lycee of Batoufam (High School of Batoufam). The students were preparing for the all-school tournament, which my host brother Mao (19, shooting the ball above) has helped his team win two years in a row. His dream is to play basketball professionally in Europe one day.

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Picturesque sunset in Kribi… doesn’t get much better than this, listening to the crashing waves and contemplating the beauty of nature.

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The throne room of the chief of Batoufam. Against all odds, traditional chieftaincies in the West region of Cameroon have remained vibrant and critical aspects of life in many rural villages in the area. The chieftaincy is hereditary, and when an heir is chosen after his father’s death, he becomes the servant of his population, mediating conflicts among the 6,000 residents and an additional 6,000 native Batoufam spread throughout the country. The chief of Batoufam has ruled since 1989, but by no means does he have absolute power. He governs along with several councils of notables and important individuals in the community, and once a week he is subjected to a judicial review of all his words and actions, ensuring he is effectively using his time to serve the community. He is well respected and revered by the community for his integrity and complete dedication to the wellbeing of his community.

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The Chief of Batoufam, Nayang Toukam Innocent, poses for a photo with us after our Q&A session with him in the throne room. He is the 14th chief of the village, and his ancestors have been chiefs dating back to the village’s founder over 200 years ago. His parting words to us (translated into English) were “Stand by your culture and traditions, work hard, and always consider others in your decision making. That is advice for the world, and it can lead to a brighter future.” – Sa Majeste Nayang Toukam Innocent.

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As you can see, this corner of Africa is a beautiful, vibrant region full of intelligent, passionate people. The next time you see a news report or read an article about the wars, poverty, and disease ravaging the African continent, I hope you remember these photos and know that there’s another side of Africa that most people never hear about.

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When I was in seventh grade, I remember being selected by several of my teachers to attend a conference at Portland State University on Africa: Past, Present, and Future. I remember running out of the principal’s office towards the outdoor common area, pumping my fists and thinking to myself “This is awesome!! I get to miss class on Friday for this!”

Several days later, sitting at a wooden desk in a dimly lit classroom at PSU, listening to men and women my parents’ age network and exchange business cards, I kept to myself, preferring to make sure my pencil was still sharp and flip through my notebook. I momentarily glanced up at the backlit woman standing at the podium in front of the classroom, and observed her as she greeted attendees. She was short, no more than five foot two, in her mid-forties, with straight blond hair. She looked up, smiled, and waving at a colleague across the room before turning back to her computer and furrowing her brow as she and made last minute adjustments to her notes. The small talk suddenly died down, the doors at the back of the classroom swung shut, and the woman launched into her presentation:

“Good morning everyone, thank you for being here today! I want to kick off our hour together by asking you a quick question:

What is Lesotho?

Is Lesotho a type of food prepared by the Massai tribe in Kenya, consisting of braised beef, rice, and steamed vegetables? Is Lesotho it a small, densely populated country which is completely surrounded by South Africa? Or is Lesotho a communal dance practiced in rural Namibia during an annual male initiation ceremony?”

After pondering the question for a couple seconds, I decided to go with the food option, which got my young adolescent mind wondering what would be served for lunch that afternoon. Probably some traditional African food from Ethiopia or someplace, catered by a local restaurant… Suddenly, I was snapped back to attention by a shout from the front of the room:

“Lesotho is in fact a country! How many of you guessed correctly?”

I don’t recall how many people raised their hands, or honestly anything else from the rest of that day. The only thing I remember is the thought that hit me at that moment, an idea that burned into my conscience at thirteen years of age in that classroom:

“Lesotho is an African country… and I never knew about it until today. What else is out there just waiting for me to learn about it?”

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Meeting with the Bagyeli tribe to discuss the effects of modernization on their traditional way of life

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I haven’t thought about that moment or that conference in years, but it occurred to me the other day as I was journaling at my homestay on the coast of Cameroon that, in many ways, the idea that took root in that moment was one of the major reasons I felt the need to come to Cameroon. I’ve become addicted to learning, to uncovering the unknown, and to expanding my image of reality Capture18by experiencing the world from different perspectives. One of the things that attracted me to SIT for study abroad was the fact that all their programs are centered around the experiential learning cycle (see the diagram on the right), so at every step of the program we’re constantly encouraged to reflect and analyze our experiences, identify key insights, and then apply them to future experiences. As a result, many of our classes turn into field trips: One day our French class will consist of going to the beach and striking up a conversation with local fishermen on their daily routines. The next day, our Social Pluralism and Minorities class will spend the day visiting groups of autochthonous Cameroonians struggling to adapt their traditional forest-dwelling way of life to a new age of modernity. After that, we’ll meet with a local NGO leader to debrief the experience and discuss key takeaways from the visit, before going to visit a local development organization striving to address women’s issues in a comprehensive manner, targeting education for at-risk children, HIV and AIDS prevention sessions for prostitutes, and professional training for women to dye cotton garments and earn an income.

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Our french teacher, Thomas, talking to Haley as we head down to the beach to talk with local fishermen for class

In addition to the experiential learning we use in the classroom, we use the same process to experience, analyze, and learn from everyday life in Cameroon. Thus far, I’ve spent two weeks living with an upper class host family in the capital city of Yaounde and two weeks with a lower-middle class host family in the coastal town of Kribi, and they have been incredible teachers in their own right! I speak only in French with my host families, I’ve learned to wash my clothes by hand, and in Kribi I learned to live without running water by using a well behind the house, taking bucket showers and using a squat toilet. Even for upper class Cameroonians, washing machines are extravagant luxuries as opposed to basic necessities. I’ve learned what it means to live life around personal relationships as opposed to time, stopping to have in-depth conversations with strangers about their hopes and dreams for Cameroon and Africa in general on my way to run errands at the supermarket. I’ve learned firsthand how Cameroonians strike a delicate balance between ethnic diversity and national unity in a country with over 240 ethnic groups and 280 different languages. I’ve dug into Cameroonian history with local experts and learned how to understand popular sentiments towards France, China, the US, and neighboring countries such as Nigeria and Equatorial Guinea. And I’ve had long discussions with my American peers about how we can take this experience back home and educate people on the realities of development aid and westernization here in Cameroon. All of these experiences have expanded my concept of reality, challenged what I believe about the world, and advanced my understanding of what my personal role in the world is, and what role everyone in the US and around the world has to play in creating a more fair, just world through political and economic reform.

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My host family in Kribi (Mama Julie and her brother Salomon)

Starting with my personal role, I’ve realized that, although I will not be able to “fix” neo-colonialism on my own or single-handedly replace the current paradigm of big business with social entrepreneurship and social innovation, I CAN use my career to work with other passionate, dedicated individuals on behalf of the millions of people excluded from our modern political and economic systems. Jesuit education often cites the importance of pairing charity with justice to achieve social change, and in my mind, justice can only be served by working towards more inclusive, flexible social structures that grant everyone the chance to live a healthy, fulfilling life. Not pursuing justice for the millions of African youth currently unemployed, underemployed, or idle as a result of neo-colonialism, the hundreds of thousands of innocent refugees escaping violent conflict in Africa, the Middle East, and Latin America, or the chronically homeless men, women, and children back in Portland, Oregon would be fatal to my sense of integrity, because they are not solely responsible for their state of affairs. The social structures that surround them never gave them a fair shot to succeed. I can’t change it all on my own… but I need to do my part, and that’s why I need to find a career that works to create social change, rather than one that feeds into the status quo. And I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. I’ve talked to hundreds of students and young professionals from all over the US who want to use their careers to solve social problems and create more inclusive social structures, and ultimately they are the reason I feel confident enough to maintain this blog. Nine such students are here with me on this trip, dozens are back with me at Gonzaga University, and hundreds from all over the world stood in unity with me at the AshokaU Exchange in Washington DC and the Net Impact Conference in Minneapolis, Minnesota this past year. I firmly believe that it only takes a few passionate people working together to prime the gears of change, and I want to use my voice to encourage like-minded people to join me in making a living and changing the world. For resources on how to make this possible, check out the Resources page of my website or email me directly for individualized advice on how to turn your passion for social change into a career!

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Asking questions with my peers at the Bagyeli site visit

For anyone reading this who is already established in a career or is retired, we need your help too! I know that working for a big company is often most people’s only option to put food on the table and provide for their families, and even if someone believes the system they are a part of is taking advantage of them or other people, chances are they won’t feel like they are in a position to change it, especially if it means potentially putting their job at risk. If this is you, I have a different challenge for you: Are you willing to acknowledge that you still have a critical part to play in the process of systemic reform? If not, this might not be the right blog for you… but if so, congratulations! You are part of a community of millions of hard working Americans willing to throw their support behind substantial efforts to fight the unfair, unjust status quo (e.g. income inequality, the lobbying power of big business, and the role of big money in politics), and I want to encourage you in your efforts too. Change is possible, but only if we all work together and BELIEVE it’s possible. If a few passionate people dedicating their careers to creating more fair and just social systems (like my colleagues I described above) can prime the gears of change, support from people like you is the fuel we need to get these gears turning!

Your role is straight-forward, but by no means easy: To eradicate the biggest threat to justice and equality of our day and age… the deceptively subtle feeling of apathy. Apathy is the insidious feeling that convinces people that it takes too much effort to try and go against the status quo, and that the best thing to do is just kick back and enjoy the ebb and flow of popular opinion. How do we fight apathy? By using three readily accessible weapons:

  1. Information: The first weapon is to stay informed on current events by accessing the information at your fingertips! Watch the PBS NewsHour on TV or online, read BBC News (their smartphone app is excellent), read non-fiction books on current issues, and cross-reference different sources of media to understand the root causes of these events.
  2. Community: Get together with other people in your social circle (a group of friends, neighbors, family members, religious community members, co-workers) and schedule regular times to meet as a “Social Awareness Group” to discuss the current political, economic and social events you’ve been reading about. Commit at the outset to create a safe space where all ideas and perspectives are respected, and where the goal is to create a dialogue about what is happening and what is being done to address it, not just a time to lament how terrible the world is becoming.
  3. New Experiences: Go together with members of your “Social Awareness Group” and seek to interact with change agents in your community and see the world from different perspectives. Volunteer with a local nonprofit and speak to beneficiaries, attend guest lectures at local colleges and universities, watch performances and documentaries with political messages, and debrief each experience in your “Social Awareness Group”, making sure to discuss potential action items in addition to lessons learned.

With these three weapons, you can eradicate apathy in your own life and inspire others to do the same. By engaging with critical social topics in this way, you will come across passionate people pursuing systemic change fulltime, and you can play your part by supporting them with your time, expertise, money, or simply by spreading the word about their work! Whether you’re 8 or 81, rich or poor, a single mom or an empty nester, you can employ these three weapons in your own life and become a positive change agent in your community. All it takes is acknowledging the need for systemic change, exposing yourself to social issues and passionate change agents, and believing in the value of your support.

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This past weekend I bought a ceramic art piece made my some students in Cameroon’s only professional arts school, located in a city outside of Yaounde called Mbalmayo. Take a look at it below (It’s about 10 inches wide and 6 inches tall). The artist uses toned dust and locally sourced Cameroonian clay to depict three Cameroonian children admiring a sunset, as a flock of birds fly towards the mountains in the distance

Take a second to look at it… What do you see?

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When I first came across it in the studio, I saw three Cameroonian youth envying the birds. Unlike the children, the birds were able to easily escape their environment and find greener pastures beyond the horizon.

I circled back to this piece three times to admire it, each time spending a few minutes analyzing the composition and the meaning of the piece. The third time around, SIT Cameroon’s program director, Christiane, came over beside me and remarked how much she liked the piece. I asked her what she saw. As soon as I heard her reply, I immediately took it off the wall and rushed over to the counter to buy it.

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One of the major themes we’ve been discussing in class is the idea that there is not a “one size fits all” path to development. The path to wealth in the US and Europe isn’t necessarily the path to wealth for Africa and Latin America. Successful development is more than economic growth at all costs; it’s culturally appropriate economic growth. Successful development doesn’t mean creating copies of “America” around the world and helping countries “westernize” by adopting American values. It involves helping countries create jobs and transform natural resources while respecting cultural differences and preserving local values, beliefs, and traditions that provide people a sense of identity and community.

Successful Development = Culturally Appropriate Economic Growth

Let me give you an example: In the US, one of our core societal values is the idea that “I am my own person”, that our identity is individualized and self-made. In contrast, Fr. Patrick Baraza (a Kenyan professor at Gonzaga) teaches his students that one of the bedrock values of African traditional communities is community identity, the belief that “I am because we are”. This is the clash between American individualism and African traditional communalism. The key thing to recognize is that, objectively, neither of these values is inherently “better” than the other. They both have their merits: individualism encourages personal achievement and innovation, while communalism stresses strong relationships and cooperation. However, people are hardwired to believe that their culture is better or more correct than other cultures, and as such they seek to replace alternative ideologies with their own, a phenomenon referred to as ethnocentrism.

International development experts from developed countries often inadvertently make the mistake of not recognizing their ethnocentrism when they work in different cultural contexts. In doing so, they place too much emphasis on the economic growth portion of “successful development”, at the expense of the “culturally appropriate” portion. It’s the reason why the period of “structural adjustment loans” undertaken by the World Bank and the IMF in the 1980’s proved so disastrous. According to the program, countries that applied for development aid from these organizations had to meet certain benchmarks of economic reform, specifically privatizing state-held assets, cutting government spending, decreasing taxes, and increasing access to foreign capital, all things that were “working” in the developed North and which were thought to be the key to developing the global South. Ultimately, the program failed because it was not culturally appropriate in the countries it was working in. Politically centralized leaders sold state assets to cronies and political allies, the cuts in public spending led to an explosion of NGO activity to fill in the gaps, and local industries that relied on government assistance such as national banks went out of business, allowing multinational companies to enter the market and further create dependency on the developed American and European countries.

The key takeaway from the failure of the structural adjustment plan is that successful development is very difficult for outsiders to direct, since it requires more than just economic knowledge. If development is ever going to succeed, there needs to be a marriage between economic policy and cultural knowledge. Development leaders must have a deep, personal understanding of their society’s hopes for the future, valued traditions, worries about development, and deeply held beliefs. Yes, international economists and development experts have a role to play in development, but they must realize that oftentimes that role is to recognize their ethnocentrism and allow local ownership of development to take hold. If they truly care about development, once they’ve acknowledged their cultural bias, well intentioned foreign experts will adopt a servant leader approach and choose to limit their involvement, allowing young, passionate local leaders to craft culturally-appropriate development goals for their countries.

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Flash back to the scene where I’m standing in the art exhibition showroom, admiring the ceramic painting of the three children watching birds fly towards the mountains into the sunset. What did Christiane say that pushed me to to buy the piece? Rather than seeing the children as helpless prisoners of circumstance as I had, she saw them as empowered future leaders of Africa, coming together as a community to enjoy the beauty of their homeland. Christiane’s response showed me my ethnocentrism, and reminded me of how important it is to acknowledge my cultural bias before pursuing culturally appropriate international development:

“I see three intelligent children who, at the end of a long day, have come together to admire the natural beauty of their country. I think it’s the best piece in the shop, good choice.”

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Greetings from Yaounde, Cameroon! I haven’t had a good internet connection in about a week, but I’ve been kept busy by the SIT Cameroon program orientation and starting classes on Monday, so this is my first real opportunity to check in and offer my initial insights from over here in Africa.

One of the biggest themes I notice looking back on my first couple weeks here is that I’ve had a really difficult time separating my experience in Haiti from this one here in Cameroon. Its tempting to compare the two countries and lump them under the term “developing” or “third world”, but upon closer inspection they really are quite different. When our group went downtown to explore the city of Yaounde during orientation last week, I immediately felt at ease, connecting with the routine I had established over the summer in Haiti. My friends and I were the only white people around, the chaotic traffic and the street venders felt familiar, and the red soil beneath my feet looked similar to that I had encountered in the hills above Port-au-Prince. All the differences between the two countries seemed to favor Cameroon in my opinion: there wasn’t as much trash littering the streets, the electricity stayed on all the time, and the weather was a pleasant 75 degrees with occasional rain showers, rather than the persistent 100 degree heat and humidity I grew accustomed to in Port-au-Prince. In addition, it’s nice being around other college students who understand why you decided to study abroad in Africa. Ever since I choose to spend this semester in Cameroon, people have constantly asked me why. Why go to Sub-Saharan Africa? Why go to a country with terrorist attacks happening in the north? Why not go someplace “fun” like Paris or London? The six other students on the program all share a common understanding that studying in Cameroon was something we had to do.

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The past several days I have begun to understand that living and learning here in Sub-Saharan Africa is inherently complex. The physical considerations of living here don’t bother me as much as they did in Chennai or Port-au-Prince (I’ve become quite good at brushing my teeth using bottled water and identifying when it’s ok to eat raw fruits and vegetables), but the mental realities are far more challenging. Yes, its only been a week and a half, and yes, I still have lots of time left here, but I’m already scared about what it will be like going back home. I’m scared at the prospect of returning to an environment where not everyone agrees about the importance of international development. I’m terrified of becoming good friends with the other students on the program and then being flung back across the country and feeling alone when we return to “normalcy”. And I’m worried about being able to describe the imbalance of power that exists between the global North and South to anyone who hasn’t walking past tin shacks and begging children every morning. In short, I’m afraid of facing the reality of “life as usual” in the US, and knowing in my heart that the wealth and prosperity I am used to in the US is a result of extractive foreign policy decisions that have impoverished millions of men, women and children around the world, from the DRC to Cambodia, Ecuador to Afghanistan.

It’s funny, I now understand why its so appealing for Americans to create a bubble and focus solely on domestic issues. It distracts us from dealing with the negative impact we have on much of the rest of the world. Looking outward requires you to be willing to acknowledge that our nation’s success is not as glorious as we like to imagine. Ever since the end of World War II, we have made it a point to control our interests overseas by calling anyone who disagrees with privatization and westernization a “communist”, and as a result we have enriched American companies, and secured access to foreign oil, and tricked ourselves into believing that we are doing these countries a favor by helping them “develop” to become just like us.

I wouldn’t have agreed with that last statement if you had told me that 4 months ago, but now I have met and spoken with men and women in the global South who have lived their lives with the consequences of western “development”, and it has changed my perspective. Meet several of them below:

It’s the young farmer I met in the hills outside Port-au-Prince who can’t afford to feed his mother and younger siblings because subsidized American imports undercut the price of the vegetables he grows.

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It’s the elderly Dalit “untouchables” I spoke with who have spent decades cleaning human waste from the sewers and streets of Chennai with their bare hands, and who live under tarps and in decrepit apartments on the outskirts of the city.

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And it’s the twenty four year old here in Cameroon earning a masters degree in physics who, when asked what his dream is, answered “to get a job… any job”, because his country suffers from high youth unemployment and hasn’t been allowed to develop domestic industries to transform its natural resources into goods to sell in the rest of the world.

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This is the legacy of neo-colonialism, and the reason why the US has lost much of its respect in the developing world. It’s because we have tricked ourselves into believing that it’s possible to advance our national interests and at the same time “develop” other countries to become richer and self-sufficient. It’s a conflict of interests: The US has benefited immensely from taking advantage of countries like Cameroon, and as long as US businesses and politicians benefit from this current system, they won’t want to “develop” the countries or help them become “self sufficient”. If left unchecked, US companies will continue to enrich themselves at the expense of the poor by earning favorable contracts with foreign governments (See Frontline’s episode on Firestone in Liberia), the US government will remain unwilling to allow democratically elected officials represent the voices of their citizens if those views contradict US interests (read Confessions of an Economic Hitman by John Perkins), and the global North will continue to pressure Southern countries to export raw materials at discounted prices in exchange for increased loans from the World Bank and the IMF that cripple their economic future. All of these things carry forward the legacy of European colonialism, and together these things are referred to as neocolonialism: forcing independent developing countries to be economically dependent on developed countries.

Now that I understand this phenomenon better, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it, but one thing is for certain: I know I need to do something. Some may say “This is all well and good Aaron, but there’s no better alternative! It’s unfortunate that capitalism doesn’t help everyone, but that’s just the way the world works.” I say to these people, we can’t afford to think that way. If this system of neocolonialism is allowed to continue, we will see an increase in violence, war, famine, and unrest the world over. Lack of opportunity and high rates of poverty lead to terrorism and extremism (Iraq, Afghanistan), political instability (Syria, Libya, Egypt), and increased incentive to migrate to developed countries, either legally or illegally (Latin America, European migrant crisis). The more I travel, the more I realize how important it is for leaders in the developed world to recognize they have a responsibility to represent not just their nation’s interests, but rather the interests of the global poor. In our increasingly globalized and connected world, we must recognize that the wellbeing of those in the developed countries can only be ensured by ensuring the wellbeing of those in the developing world. Only by working to achieve mutually beneficial, equal national and international relationships will we create a more stable, secure, and prosperous world. We often worry about dictators and oppressive rulers taking advantage of those they govern, but history has shown us that those who seek after their own interests will not survive. Dictators, kings, emperors, and Fuhrers have been swept away by the sands of time, overthrown by popular uprising and the power of the popular majority. In the end, the surest way to create prosperity and stability for oneself is to look out for the interests of others.

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Today, the biggest obstacle keeping us from pursuing true international development through international cooperation and is a decentralized, almost invisible enemy: neo-colonialism. The idea that we must protect our interests at all costs, and the notion that we can’t afford to trust anyone but ourselves results in a global economic system that works to enrich and empower those who already control the wealth and the power. OXFAM recently reported that by 2016, the richest 1% of the world population will be wealthier than the bottom 99%. Another report says that last year there were more refugees fleeing violence and war than ever before. Still other statistics indicate that youth unemployment in many areas of the world is over 40%. All of these things point to one simple fact: The system is broken… and the rich and powerful countries are beginning to experience the negative consequences of creating such an unequal global system.

If we in the developed world truly believe in the values we claim to uphold: freedom, democracy, and opportunity for all, then we must examine the structures of which we are a part and be unafraid of asking ourselves that most powerful of questions: “What if?” What if there’s a better way forward? What if we recognized its in the best interest of rich countries to allow poor countries to develop on their own, not according to our goals and objectives? The world needs men and women who recognize that apathy and resignation are the most dangerous phenomena of our day and age. The time has come for the developed world to acknowledge that our system is broken, and that only by uniting, cooperating and trusting one another can we ensure that we live in a world with freedom and opportunity for all.

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Thanks for visiting aarondanowski.com! Leave you comments below, and be sure to stay up to date on my travels by clicking on the “Following” button on the right hand side of your page!

If you would like to contact me directly, please do so via email: adanowski@zagmail.gonzaga.edu