Empire Syndrome: Denial, Delusion and British Relocation

Travelling while black can be exhausting. As a British traveller you are often perceived by Americans, Australians and Europeans as a fellow ‘westerner’ and ally. This, combined perhaps with a complete lack of awareness of what it means to be a diasporic African, can allow people to feel comfortable enough around you to come out with some wildly offensive commentaries. Such comments can range from the mildly problematic to the outrageously racist but almost all of them are truly worth analysing.

I was once speaking with a New Zealander about her prospective relocation to Dubai for a tax free wage that would relieve the financial pressures of living in London, and finally allow her to start saving. She despaired having to adjust to a new culture and worried about things like covering up in the heat and not kissing her boyfriend in public. Her frustration culminated in this sentence: “I get that they want hold on to their religious values and stuff but they need westerners”.

My lips parted as I hoped to articulate some kind of response, but no sound escaped as I stood, dumbfounded. I know nothing about Dubai. But from her description of her life in London, she definitely needed Dubai more than Dubai needed her. The patronising tone behind the words “their religious values and stuff” had me completely floored. To dismiss an entire religion, culture or way of life as if it were small print to the greater story of My Life seemed painfully ignorant and self-involved. The arrogance of this statement marked me. As an immigrant arriving into a country solely to earn a better wage that you have no intention of paying taxes on, how is it possible to still feel such a sense of entitlement?

This brought into sharp focus a term I jokingly came up with years previously to explain some of the equally arrogant and ignorant things I would hear (almost always white) travellers say. The term empire syndrome, I decided, denotes the belief that ‘westerners’ have unparalleled rights to the world because the world has so much to learn from them. Empire syndrome is responsible for phenomena such as the selectively used term ‘expat’ and domestically can be connected to our unforgivably poor treatment of refugees here in the UK. It is the worrying belief, often manifested by British travellers, that there is always some element of contribution in being British abroad. The world needs the English language, British education and good, tolerant, liberal western values and here you are giving it to them! What commendable philanthropy!

The stereotype of the ‘Brit abroad’ as loud, proud and unapologetically ignorant is a label usually tacked onto ‘lads on tour’ type holidays in Spain or Greece that will later be made into a reality TV show. Of course, not all holiday-makers in on the continent are embarrassingly drunk and those who are quietly minding their own business always go unnoticed (indeed, positive stories of working class life, generally, go less reported). But in every brash British holiday maker is the hint of an attitude of “Here! Have my culture! It’s probably better than yours anyway.”

The ‘cultured’ middle classes tend to remain exempt from this label and many travellers whether to India, Peru or Madagascar are indeed polite and respectful in their attitudes and the way they interact with people. But more, in my humble experience, are simply incredibly polite neo-colonialists. These are the people who, with a straight face, will take one cultural norm they’ve ‘discovered’ from siestas to lateness to disregard for traffic signals, to explain why [insert entire state, continent or religion here] will always be behind the west. It is culture, not colonialism, pillage, unfair international trade deals or monopolies on means of production which is at the root of global inequality. How blessed the backwards people are to have you, Mr Neo-colonialist Sir, in their midst.

Academic discourse on foreign direct investment into countries with smaller economies, usually in the case of expansion of international corporations, tends to suggest that it is good a for a country’s economy. It provides jobs, teaches key skills, trains locals for future opportunities and brings in wealthy ‘expats’ who in turn contribute to the local economy. The problem with foreign direct investment, much like colonialism before it, is that it further weaves states who are at a structural disadvantage (because their exports are mainly raw materials and their currencies are weaker) into a global system of capital, built on inequality and exploitation, which will always benefit already wealthy states.

Whilst ‘expats’ who work for multinational companies may be spending money in local economies, they are making much more for themselves and whichever company sent them. Indeed, plantation owners in Guyana two hundred years ago were providing work to Indian indentured labourers, in the same way that most of your favourite high street shops are doing so across China and Bangledesh today. They’re hardly the heroes of history though, are they?

The delusional self-importance of ‘expats’ abroad has never failed to astound me on my travels, and the ignorance around the structures of inequality merely perpetuate it. No matter how poor the wages you pay or how little tax you contribute, the message is clear: the world needs western investment, western values and westerners and you are therefore helping.

The ideology of western cultural superiority reigns supreme, undoubtedly connected to the failure to teach the real and murky history of British travel and exactly what the UK would look like were it not for the empire. Until Brits confront the reality of how enriched this country has become off the very same places that some claim “need westerners” and begin to understand who needs who, empire syndrome will continue to reign and replicate the colonialism of the past.


Culture for Profit and its Complications

To Pimp a Culture

A few years ago, in Trinidad, I was sitting with a man named Aldrick watching cars go by as the topic of oil came into conversation. Trinidadian oil must bring in a lot of money, I commented. He agreed the oil, the banks and the tourism, that was where the cash lay. “But the tourism I don’t like so much, you know, you start to feel when your country is spread out a certain way for tourists she becomes like a prostitute”. Between oil, banks and tourism I was surprised that what he had highlighted as most problematic for the country were its visitors, but the more I travel and see cultures being sold over and over again to those unfamiliar with it the more his words resonate with me wherever I go.
My family is native to an island not so far from Trinidad, a smaller perhaps even more paradisiacal place it is easily more touristic than T&T. I have been going back and forth to Barbados since I was a child, travelling with and to my family meant that it always felt warm and welcoming to me, home to my own mother, aunties, uncles, grandparents and so forth. Given my love for the place it never surprised me when friends or colleagues would praise it and tell me about the wonderful times they’d had there.

But it wasn’t until I travelled to Barbados without my family, just a few months before meeting Aldrick, and instead with a group of colleagues; two Americans, two Brits, a Rwandan and a Réunionese, that I discovered the welcoming sensation I felt was different from that described to me by tourists with no familial link to the island. Theirs was a well-trained smile that I recognised from years of working in the service industry, one that usually comes with the exchange of cash; a lasting handshake, heavy with the appreciation of custom and of course an island-wide willingness to go the extra mile.

Globally, one happy tourist means revenue and lots of it whilst one drop of tourist blood is expensive, especially in areas where tourism is the number one source of income. Hence travellers are treated with the utmost care, given everything they need and always reminded to come back.

This service industry smile is expected when you take a holiday, you pay for a service and you expect a smile. Most travellers however are also paying for a cultural experience and in a world where what the tourist says goes, that’s just part of the service. At this point things get awkward for me, when am I simply experiencing something new and when am I on the receiving end of a country pimping out its culture?

The examples of forced or insincere depictions of culture for profit are endless, wandering through Edinburgh I wondered if the men in kilts playing their bagpipes would bother if there was no one to take pictures. I was doubtful. In Salvador do Bahia where adult women dress up as the concept of ‘Mama Bahía’ the afrobrazilian woman who embodies the spirit of the Brazilian northeast. Similarly at Maasai Mara after a day of driving around taking pictures of lions and zebra tourists are offered a cultural experience of a traditional Maasai dance to complete ‘the African adventure’.

Often tourism is about giving people what they expect but unfortunately, so often our ideas about foreign countries are outdated, archaic or incredibly narrow. So as the economic need for tourism persists in order to entice tourists the image that is sold is one created by outsiders, for outsiders. Caribbean paradise means white sand and blue sea. In St. Lucia, a volcanic island where sand ranges from black as night to silvery yellow, white sand is imported from neighbouring islands. Here, this is not a cultural exploitation as much as a futile expenditure, white sand does not feel better under your feet, nor make the sea any more soothing. It just looks more like the postcard you are likely to send home.

The black sand beaches of St Vincent.

The black sand beaches of St Vincent.

As I stepped out of an airplane in Nairobi, Kenya last month the wall that guided me to passport control was decorated with paintings of ‘the big five’ wild animals you can find on safari intertwined with silhouette images of opaque  women with a traditionally ‘African’ shape appearing to be dancing or carrying baskets on their heads. My eyes narrowed. Imagining that this was my first trip to Kenya, or even on the continent where it resides, I wondered what my impressions would be. It almost seemed to affirm the stereotypes and preconceived notions of the country before passengers had even legally made it in. Something about it irked me.
This vague sense of suspicion or discomfort I felt at the airport was set aside for the next few weeks as my mind became distracted by beaches and lakes from Mombasa to Zanzibar. However a trip to the National Museum of Tanzania brought it all flooding back as the disappointment I felt cruising through this representation of a nation was overwhelming. As you walk in the first exhibition has a photo of Nyerere, ‘baba wa taifa,’ the first president of Tanzania elected in 1964 and the ‘father of a nation’. Nyerere’s socialist leanings and “villagisation” policies are thought to have deeply shaped the politics of Tanzania that we know today, a largely peaceful and stable country.

As I walk further around the images cease to surprise me and seem only to teach and show me anything about Tanzania that I would have lazily assumed. Spears, beads, recipes from “witch doctors”, portraits of white men who died hundreds of years ago such as the late great explorer David Livingstone, a man who made Tanzania what it is. Then there was my favourite stand of all, the AIDS stall. Despite our image of AIDS-ridden Africa, in reality most travellers in Tanzania will barely come in contact with people living with AIDS, the popular island of Zanzibar has a prevalence of 0.6 % whilst Arusha the biggest town in the Kilimanjaro area has a prevalence of less than 2%. As I became more and more distressed at why a national museum had decided to erect a stand about a disease wondering if I had missed the cancer or cardiovascular section of Catalonia’s history museum, I wondered how long it would take before an Ebola stand was a permanent fixture?
The AIDS stall made me reconsider how I had seen the whole museum, celebrations of ‘baba wa taifa’ then became a reiteration of the old lie that Africa was born in the 1960s after independence, negating centuries of East African history, which at best are referred to in the context of the European invasion as “pre-colonial” if they are ever mentioned at all. Even the language seemed to be lying to me, words like “tribe” and “hunter-gatherer” which were not in any local language but in the language of the coloniser and seemed to serve only in the exoticising of the land’s own people.

Firstly, let me acknowledge that as a British passport holder I do recognise the hypocrisy of complaining about the national museum of a former British colony when more often than not the stolen artefacts of former colonies reside in the British Museum, rather than the areas from which they were looted. But what exhausted me so much about the Museum was that it reflected this tendency not specifically of Tanzania or Tanzanians but of so many cultures within the African diaspora to present ourselves as the other, as the exotic.

Thinking back to these mysterious, faceless black women on the walls of Jomo Kenyatta Airport, it became clearer what had irked me so much. A woman with a big bum and a basket on her head isn’t exotic in Kenya, she’s just a woman (definition of exotic: “foreign, not native, strikingly unusual, unique). Through depicting just a woman as this image which should strike awe and wonder in the viewer, you are not only exoticising the banal but you are also commodifying the black female form. From the opening of the Eiffel Tower in 1889 which saw black women from the colonies stand for days on display with ‘exotic’ fruits around them, to a Taylor Swift video in 2014, the fascination of the black female form has stood the test of time, and black women’s bodies will likely be a commodity for generations to come.

However, objectification of women is just one consequence of culture for profit and the ‘othering’ of oneself. The recent debate on cultural appropriation debate has tackled some of the difficulties in drawing the line between a simple cultural exchange and exploitation. Maybe the scot in his kilt is adamant that tourists will not leave without knowing of the bagpipes that are an essential element of Scottish culture. Perhaps ‘Mama Bahia’ is so proud of her ancestors she wants every passer-by to know her. A recent article on the gentrification of Harlem which tackled the awkwardness in profiting from culture without falling into stereotypes and crude generalisations, asked the question “how do you monetize the cultural experience in a way that remains genuine and authentic?”

I do not believe this is impossible. Culture for profit often means that despite spending a substantial amount of time in a new place, you end up going home with the same stereotypes you came with. You go to morocco with flashbacks of Aladdin lingering in your mind, pay a snake charmer for a photo and leave with the same image that was buried in your brain somewhere before you arrived. This is both yours and the snake charmer’s fault. We as members of the African diaspora must be adamant in defining ourselves not in the context of the European colonisers or slave masters but as beings unto ourselves, and eventually develop a true independence beyond being nations of servers.

But tourism like any industry works on the basis of supply and demand, tourists demand the culture they saw in a film and local businesses supply it. So if we change the demands that we make as tourists we can become better-informed, more open consumers of culture. Don’t go looking for a dark continent full of magic and mysteries as described by Joseph Conrad. Read Chinua Achebe and Chimamanda Adichie and expect to find other human beings who like you have a culture that dictates to a large extent their behaviour on a day to day basis. Stop looking for the other and instead look to see yourself reflected in the people you meet, and once you have established those similarities the differences become evident and from there too you can begin to learn of a culture.

NB The National Museum of Tanzania is not 100% bad, I did enjoy the rock art exhibition and the photography of the old East African coast.

Erin Brokovich, Crude and TTIP

Last weekend I watched for the first time the Julia Roberts classic, Erin Brokovich. It’s the beautiful story about of an outspoken, mother-of-three who goes from begging for jobs from her cockroach-infested home to earning millions of dollars by working hard, having a heart and using her brains. Based on a true a story, Erin Brokovich portrays the court case of Hinkley versus Pacific, Gas and Electricity Company (PG&E). In it, residents of a small town who had suffered health problems caused by leakages of a toxic chemical, sued the company for compensation and won a $333million award.

Classic stories like this always go down well because crowds love an underdog and it just seems wrong that because one side is bigger, has more money or more power than the other, that they can just ignore the needs of good, honest people like those of Hinkley no matter how just their claims are.

Although I enjoyed the film there was a niggling thought in the back of my head throughout that this just is not how the story usually goes. Today even more so than ever before, the masses are the underdogs that we just expect to fail, to go ignored or to end up as collateral damage. It’s not only frustrating but illogical too. In Hinkley’s case PG&E have billions of dollars, and are responsible for the damage whilst the people of Hinkley have hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills. The answer seems too obvious to even say.

Nothing illustrates this modern day reality better than David Cameron’s unwavering commitment to the proposed cross-Atlantic free trade agreement TTIP. If you have heard about TTIP you are probably bored stiff by article after article pointing out the obvious, and I forgive you for clicking off to a better place. If you haven’t, let me alleviate your confusion. TTIP is essentially a contract being drawn up to by the US and the EU which intends to unite the two entities by breaking down the barriers of trade. Those opposed fear that it could (and probably will) mean adhering to US standards on everything from food production to environmental policy whilst corporations operate with more free reign across the globe. Essentially, it could mean a lot less Erin Brockovichs and a lot more Hinkley resident-type victims.

For a long time we’ve accepted and lived by the ideals that have led us to this point. Capitalism and free trade, the right to make as much money as you can with no governmental interference or red tape in your way, limitless profits and no drawbacks. But unfortunately, in life, there are limits, and we would be foolish to encourage companies in their belief that there aren’t. The logical and normal restrictions on money-making, such as taxes and trade laws, were invented for a reason. Limiting corporate power is a way for governments to protect the citizens they are put in place to represent. Poisoning people to cut costs is wrong, and you should have to pay for it.

TTIP would present less of a problem if Erin’s was the only tale of corporations behaving badly. In reality there are dozens if not hundreds of cases like hers and worse, and they symbolise people lucky enough to have found legal representation for the wrongs they have endured.

The case of Cófan people vs Chevron gives us a glimpse in the kind of justice we can expect when corporate power becomes overwhelming. Chevron Corporation, a company whose revenues in 2013 were up to $220billion have never given a penny of compensation to the tens of thousands of people who have suffered skin diseases, abnormal growths or died from cancer in the Ecuadorian Amazon over the past twenty or so years. These people just so happen to live in and from the rainforest in the exact location that Texaco (later purchased by Chevron) deny dumping billions of gallons of toxic water during the ‘clean up’ of their oil operations. Chevron has been fighting this case for over 20 years and after an Ecuadorian court ruled in favour of the Ecuadorians in 2011, demanding $19billion in reparations, later reduced to $9.5billion, the company simply counter-sued. Legal proceedings are ongoing.

I feel certain that no employee of Chevron relishes in the destruction of the Amazon or the death of its people. Chevron inherited this problem from Texaco and is simply trying to resolve it in a way that best works for the company; why spend billions of dollars on a clean-up when you could spend millions on legal fees. Besides it’s not the role of corporations to look after people, governments do that. But if wealthy governments are handing over power to corporations, who can then reject legitimate claims of entire nation-states, who is looking after the Cófan people and anyone else who gets in the way of profit-making?

Now, not to kill you with Hollywood analogies but if we learnt anything from Spiderman it’s that with great power, comes great responsibility. Ridiculous it may seem that a Spiderman line is the answer to our current global issue of corporate abuses of power but it is. Cases like Chevron-Texaco vs Ecuador indicate the extent to which responsibility can and has been evaded by corporations with enough money to make any moral obligations evaporate. Whether we can expect an expansion of corporate power to result in an expansion of corporate responsibility is yet to be seen, but it seems doubtful when you look at the behaviour of certain companies today.

With the advent of Investor-State Dispute Settlements (or ISDS, currently a clause in the TTIP), an agreement between a company and a country they invest in, which allows them to go to an independent court to resolve issues, we are already seeing a situation in which corporations can and do sue countries for implementing policies which have a negative on their profits, regardless of the effect on their people. Both Australia and Uruguay for example are being sued for its anti-smoking efforts by a tobacco company, while Egypt is being sued by Veolia, Europe’s largest water supplier, for raising the national minimum wage. Whether these cases will end in changes in domestic laws or pay-outs, or be rejected completely is disputable, but that they are even being considered is absurd and blatantly unjust.

Taxes too are an indication of how our corporations feel about law and citizenship. The offshore accounts of all the technology giants you can think of will potentially make your head explode. Apple alone has an impressive estimated $111billion in untaxed accounts outside of the USA, up from $83billion in 2012. That is to say that Apple has, in bank accounts outside of the USA, double what Uruguay possesses as its GDP. In fact, Apple’s offshore cash store, combined with that of Microsoft, Citigroup and the pharmaceutical, Pfizer reach around the GDP of Egypt too. Don’t go forgetting these names now, because these corporations are the global governors of the future.

You may be outraged and want nothing to do with them but you can’t boycott these companies, you cannot boycott the water coming out of your tap, or the drugs prescribed by your doctor and let’s face it, none of us are going to give up the entire Internet; you in fact have very little control over the extent to which you are a consumer of the goods provided by many corporations of this size. However, unless you happen to be a millionaire shareholder of one of these companies, you really don’t have any say in how they run either.

You can understand then, why many regard TTIP as an assault on democracy and why it is being fought against, tooth and nail, by campaigners. However, to me, the assault is on humanity. The Erin Brokovichs of the world encourage us to keep believing in humanity no matter how many fear-mongering tabloids try and convince us there’s no such thing. If we simply accept the idea that it is profits first, people later and cease believing in change, we allow those in control to take us for absolute mugs at every corner.

Erin Brokovich is indeed a heart-warming film; but sadly it’s also one that stuns us. We have now become so accustomed to these daily injustices that we are shocked to learn that one day, somewhere, just was served. I personally find myself constantly echoing my mother’s old mantra that ‘life’s not fair’ and often it isn’t, but that’s not to say that it can’t be or that we should actively implement rules and laws like TTIP, that make it less fair. Sometimes the five-year-old throwing the strop has a point: it’s just not fair.

POSTSCRIPT: TTIP is not yet in place but it requires a lot more attention if it’s to fail getting through parliament. For more information start here.

On Voluntourism

Affecting Real Change as a Young Brit with No Experience in Development.

The world we live in today is a beautiful place in many ways. A child born today will never know of the brutal racism and homophobia that their forefathers experienced or witnessed. We can imagine with glee their horror if they ever heard about the old “no blacks, no dogs, no Irish” signs, or their bafflement as to why a law had to be invented so that gays or lesbians could marry. Today, our world is more diverse and interconnected than ever, giving those who can afford it the privilege of travelling to a vast array of new and exciting horizons to drink in new settings, new cultures and new ways of living. A freedom of the purest kind, here for us to enjoy daily. But of course, this is not the case everywhere or for everyone. Every so often we are reminded of the saddening plight of those less fortunate, be it through a charity song at Christmas or just a passing advertisement on daytime television. This of course makes us want to react, to do something about this situation so that we can share the joy and goodness that we see in our own communities every day.

For many young Brits the answer seems clear, all you have to do is type ‘make a difference’ into google and there you have it, a three month experience building wells, teaching English or playing with orphans and bish bash bosh, difference made. Conscience assuaged, joy spread. Except that, as more and more critics have begun to point out, it’s not quite that simple is it. Now, I wouldn’t dream of wasting pages and pages on telling enthusiastic, compassionate teenagers to pack it in now because voluntourism is for neo-colonialists. Partly because I wonder if they’ll know what any of those words mean, but more specifically because as a former voluntourist (twice over), I know that those words would have done me no good before my trips.

Voluntourism is defined as the kind of trip in which a volunteer spends a considerable amount of time working for free for the betterment of the local community. And the voluntourism industry is growing at an alarming rate. Alarming, not staggering or impressive, because as it grows, it continues to feed off the clueless and cash-heavy and far too often once your few thousand pounds disappears into some third party whose role seems painfully futile once you arrive in your chosen land of the needy, many voluntourists end up feeling, well, robbed. Of course, this doesn’t apply to all organisations.

Most potential voluntourists will discover that there are three main kinds of organisations that will offer this kind of trip. There are charities, which rely on the money raised by voluntourists to accomplish their work, such as the Madagascar-focused charity Azafady. Then you have government-run programs that exist as CV builders or personal development experiences for British youngsters, usually heavily subsidised and hence very affordable for people of all backgrounds. Then thirdly, and definitely the worst of the three are the businesses that profit hugely from the money that you will fundraise for them, while their sole function is to put you into contact with a local grassroots organisation in your country of choice. They usually throw in airport transfer and accommodation for kicks. Essentially, you pay anywhere between £2000-4000 (an average for a 12 week trip) for a phone number and a bed.

As a former voluntourist I would never take back a moment of my time spent abroad. The first helped me grow from a teenager to a young adult, opened my eyes to the world outside of my tiny corner of London, pricked a life changing interest in global politics and development and helped me become the traveller I am today. The second acted as a clarifier, a reminder of all the values I hold dear and why and how I developed the beliefs that I live by today. The only problem is on neither occasion did I decide to take these trips for myself. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to improve the lives of people. And on that front I would say my trips were more or less futile.

The sad reality is that there are some harsh truths worth processing before you go and ‘save the world’, ‘make a difference’ or achieve whatever platitude was sold to you in the sleek brochure you read. Let’s first address the bizarre double standard that exists between working at home and volunteering abroad. You would assume applying for a job in the UK that upon application you have the appropriate education, qualifications and experience for the job, no? So why then, when on your way to your selected destination does it not cross your mind that you are not a teacher, nor a construction worker; you in fact have no useful qualifications and given that you are only going to be around for a three month placement, not that much time to learn.

Any business that runs on the basis of a quarterly overhaul of staff is doomed to suffer incredibly slow progress and would do well to contract long-term local staff. But they won’t, because you’ll do it for free and while you’re there you’ll probably throw some cash around on materials, maybe books, maybe sports goods depending on the project, maybe you’ll even invest some cash into a new vehicle or building for the company. You might think it’s not that big of a deal, or maybe that it’s the best deed you’ve done all year but for them it’s a lifeline. Without the westerners around, mzungu, nassara or whatever the local word is for white person, cash just doesn’t flow like that.

While on a building placement (I am not a builder) aged 18, I never once questioned why 18 year old baristas were being called over to Kenya to chop wood and dig holes in a slum where maybe 70% of the adult males were physically able and unemployed. Coincidentally, while I was there I just happened to pay for the wood most weeks, any medicine should someone in the slum get sick, and got into the habit of buying 5 times as much as I needed for lunch should anybody walk by hungry.

One thing I really urge young voluntourists to remember as they embark on what may well be their first experience in a professional environment, is that you know very little… about anything. Maybe I’m wrong and you’ve managed to squeeze in a Master’s in International Development and 3 years of experience with a grassroots NGO before your gap year. But on the off chance that that’s not the case: shut up and listen. Listen, watch and learn because in a new culture and a new environment your ‘this is ridiculous’, ‘things are so slow’, or worse, ‘in the UK this would never happen’ is offending everyone. Yes, everyone. Even the ones smiling. And it may kill them to smile and make them hate themselves a little bit, but probably you more

In countries without as robust an infrastructure, as constant a cash flow and as healthy and educated a workforce as you’re used to, yes, things work differently. However, you chose to come, maybe even with no relevant experience or qualifications, to magic away all the problems in 12 weeks. Your urgency is your problem, your struggle to adapt to the culture is also your problem, for people that you are working alongside on the ground this is their life and they would probably rather do it slowly and surely than just in time for your perfect photo op to take home to the family.

This leads me to my final point. Many a fine man and woman have dedicated their lives to improving the plight of those less privileged and at the time of writing 24,000 people die every day of poverty-related causes. You are not the first and you will not be the last. In reality, your three month placement is a miniscule element of a sector called charity or aid. Many development scholars believe that aid should be eradicated. The global north (the rich side of the world) receive from the global south (the poor side of the world) twice as much money as they hand over. Unfair trade laws, debt and the actions and profits of multinational corporations means that money is constantly pouring into the global north and pouring out of the global south. Our global political and economic system is so unfairly structured that an unaccountable corporation can have greater annual profits than the GDP of a small country, and that same company can still sue that small country for more profit if its actions aren’t sufficiently abiding to the rules of trade that they’re trapped into following. The world is a big, complex place full of baffling injustices but suffice it to say, 3 months volunteering for a charity who campaign for real change in trade laws or transparency of corporations in an office in Oxford or even just a lump donation, would probably have greater effect than your 5 grand blowout in Tanzania. But go. It’ll be fun.