So here we are back on the Hill. Like many of us — it is Tufts after all — I had an opportunity this past summer to go abroad and try to see the application of all of the IR coursework I do at Tufts. For all of the due diligence we give to solving problems of global poverty and health, I figured I should see it firsthand.
When I considered going abroad, my attention was pulled in one definite continental direction. It seems that there is a stratification in just how good a person you are based on where you travel during the summer. Undoubtedly, when I say that I was working for an NGO in a developing country working on HIV/AIDS prevention, most of you already have an image in mind. If I were to say I was dealing with malnourished AIDS orphans, that image becomes clearer. Add in the fact that it was a refugee population trying to rebuild after a devastating war, and perhaps the image is cemented. Likely, it is something like this: bright-colored but tattered native clothing, skinny bodies and, of course, the most obvious detail about these imaginary post-war refugee AIDS-affected orphans: They're black. This might be because your mental picture automatically associated these sad realities with Africa.
Yet this mental picture is wrong. This past summer, through the American Jewish World Service, I signed up for an eight-week program that works on AIDS education in rural El Salvador. The problems Central America faces are grim: Most of its countries are still reeling from civil war, weak economic integration — even with the efforts of DR-CAFTA — and the increasing risk of AIDS. Malnourishment is still a problem in the countryside, where farmers depend on income from single crops to raise families. Why, then, do we automatically picture Africa when we hear about general developing world conditions?
This question has loomed large in my mind since May. Media and advocacy organizations have long been bombarding us with images of starving Africans and informing us of Africa's dire need for aid — perhaps to the point of so-called "empathy fatigue." My own sponsoring organization uses full-color, high-contrast photos of starving black African children on the cover of its publications because it knows these images spark donations.
I had the option of being assigned to an African project, but I decided to go someplace where I could improve my Spanish skills. Other participants in the program echoed the media's implication that unless we were literally feeding African children, we were not best devoting our time to save-the-world activities. Was I being a less-than-perfect international advocate by opting to work anywhere but in Africa? Perhaps my time would be better spent on the other side of the Atlantic.
This reasoning was soon followed by disgust with myself. Who am I to say that El Salvadorian NGOs are in less need of help than those working in Africa? This is not to put down studying abroad or doing service in Africa, but to call for a reality check: Is Africa such a popular destination for idealistic young students because there is real promise in work there, or because helping to save those poor people is more vogue, glamorous or trendy than helping other poor people? After all, Brangelina and Madonna have a continent of choice when it comes to adopting poor orphans of color. Surprise! Poverty exists outside of Africa, and I fear that mass-media campaigns bringing awareness to one continent do so at the expense of others — and at the expense of the developed, progressive parts of that continent. Maybe it's time to re-think.
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Jacob Kreimer is a junior majoring in international relations. He can be reached at Jacob.Kreimer@tufts.edu.
