A crowded jumble of signs dominates the northern
entrance to Baraka, like an overgrown graveyard for humanitarian actors whose
work here has finished. The late afternoon sun paints these white memorials to
UNHCR, ECHO, Oxfam and various others in an orange glow masking the rust
streaks and badly faded letters. They stand testament to projects undertaken to
save lives and relieve suffering in this war-torn village on the western shores
of Lake Tanganyika. As I read the text and
photograph the scene I can’t help wondering if this image captures the
idealistic nature of aid work in profound ways. These monuments to justice and an
end to suffering speak of a brighter future, but ten years on from the first
interventions how real are those prospects? Whose dreams were they in the first
place? Did locals cherish them about as much as these dilapidated signs suggest
or has hope begun to set like today’s sun because it only ever existed like a
false dawn which once promised so much? There are undoubtedly statistics and
justifications for every well-meaning action taken and budget line spent, but
really we must also ask how different are the baseline figures today compared
with the days following the fighting, raping and looting which devastated
Baraka’s its inhabitants before the outside world tried to help? So much of the
project work undertaken does not take root in places like the Congo and
others. Sure, any assistance will be embraced but it is more about a financial
transaction than partnership which is locally owned and embraced as something
of integral value. When the funding disappears and NGOs leave, the decline
begins – training forgotten, best practice ignored, maintenance disregarded
until people are living as they did before disaster struck. I’ve seen
communities targeted for water and sanitation programmes receive tens of
thousands of dollars in aid for wells, hygiene education and maintenance
committees which were all realised. A few years later the wells are in
disrepair, the latrines full, unused and people are drinking water direct from the
lake. Much like a Congo
that had functioning transport, industry and infrastructure (albeit on the
back of Leopold’s heinous slavery) where barely an overgrown railway sleeper
can be seen today, these humanitarian projects seem doomed to decline in the
same way. Perhaps it’s simply better to do nothing (as some critics of
development have argued) and allow people the freedom and responsibility to
live their lives as they see fit. Some days it’s hard not to view people here
as beneficiaries receiving unemployment cheques, dependent on aid rather than
honestly tackling the challenges they face as a local community. Worst of all
is the way they have been defined (by themselves as much as others) as victims
in need of a handout. The loss of dignity and dehumanisation is shameful for
all. I suspect international NGOs, just like the colonists who abandoned this
country fifty years ago, are taking away a lot more than they are giving.
