Joining the Ranks of the Elite

by Christina Jordan

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The life of an expatriate anywhere in the world is filled with personal highs and lows. There's the exhilaration of conquering challenges and discovering a new culture, the frustration of blundering into cultural differences we don't understand, and the loneliness in trying to find a new comfort zone far from our support network of family and friends. When you move to one of the world's very poor countries, there is also the additional emotional roller coaster of reconciling the "ordinary" image you have of yourself with the reality of living an extremely privileged lifestyle relative to those around you.

When I moved from Belgium to Uganda with my family less than two years ago, our standard of living didn't really change much. Most European goods are available, so our daily intake of food is more or less the same. We have furniture and curtains on the window, and a car. We have a computer. We can go out to dinner occasionally and plan vacations. By European or American standards, all of this is pretty normal, and realistically attainable to large portions of the population.

Although neither of us has ever experienced truly destitute poverty, both my husband and I come from families where money was always in limited supply. While we are more financially comfortable in our life together than either of us remember our families being in our childhood, we have certainly never lost sight of the value of money and don't consider ourselves to be part of "the elite" by a long shot. But by Ugandan standards, we (and other people like us) are like the Rockefellers. We are the "super-elite" -- a world away from the average Ugandan, even though we are right here in the same country.

While many expats enjoy this newfound status, being part of the elite doesn't come without a price. You are expected to provide employment by hiring staff in your home, swarmed ten times more often by street children than any national, and expected to know all the answers to the problems of every needy person you meet. You simply can't help everybody, and they ALWAYS think you could if you wanted to. You feel hated when you don't give to a beggar, stereotyped as "just another stingy foreigner" when you don't buy something you've browsed at, and resented when you have to say, "Sorry, I don't have a job to offer you."

From my experience, it's not just about being a foreigner. In Uganda, those who have money are expected to provide for those who don't. You see this in the family structure again and again. All hopes are put upon one child to go to school, so they can get a job and support the family --all the parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, and cousins who suffered while only one got opportunity. And when there isn't enough to go around - as there rarely is -- the lucky one is criticized as ungrateful, poorly raised, and spoiled. For Ugandans who've been in the capital for a while, a visit to their home village can be a very traumatic affair. They often come back broke, disappointed in themselves because they simply can't live up to the image people have of them, and angry because they're expected to.

And the foreigners -- especially those who are white -- are viewed with a mix of resentment and undue reverence. Money, comfort, technology, medicine -- we have it all. With all of that, then, surely we must have the answers, or at least some money or a job for this beggar, for that shopkeeper, and for every other needy person we meet. But we don't. We can't. We're overrated in our capacity to solve all of the problems, and then judged poorly for our perceived unwillingness to do so. It's not always pleasant . . . It can get to you.

I was frustrated and angry for a while when we first arrived in Uganda at the tendency of so many foreigners to have so little contact with the Ugandans around them, and so little interest in Ugandan culture. I think now that I judged too harshly. I believe that many foreigners actually do want to have that contact, and want to do something useful, but just don't know how or where to begin. The fear in trying is a valid one -- you can never do enough, so why set yourself up to be criticized? You will never live up to all the expectations, so why try? Many people simply don't, barricading themselves instead behind high compound walls and socializing only with other expats -- who won't ask them for things they can't give.
I have chosen my way of approaching life in Africa, which my computer of the super-elite allows me to share with others. Though I understand that many expats find it hard to look closely at extreme poverty, I choose to look. Maybe it's because I experienced it in my own culture, but I am not afraid to face the poverty here in Uganda head on, to face it squarely and see past it to its beauty, the dreams and the hopes of the people trapped inside. What I see is a richness of creative, inspiring and virtuous people who are no less worthy of my respect simply because they were born poor. I seek them out, share in their stories, their micro-successes and their dreams, and celebrate their hope rather than despairing at the adversity which appears so prevalent at first glance. I do not give charity, but have created in the Life in Africa Foundation an organization that provides opportunities (through micro-loans) for people to help themselves.

Everyone has to find their own way to deal with the challenges of living as a foreigner in a poor country. I have found mine, and though it's sometimes emotionally painful and draining to get as close as I do to the lives of the poor, the rewards are incredibly rich. I am at peace with the idea of living the life of the super-elite because I know that my life among the poor has been useful to others, and I know that in so very many non-material ways, I really am one of the wealthiest women in the world.

Christina Jordan is the founder of the Life in Africa Foundation, which brings the people of Africa to live on your screen at http://LifeinAfrica.com with images, true stories, and low-cost ways to make a direct and lasting impact on the lives of the poor. Christina is also the author of "Letters from Uganda," bi-weekly stories about her life as a foreigner in East Africa, which are available free via e-mail. To subscribe, send an e-mail to uganda-subscribe@topica.com.