I was in this place Scandinavia last week. The Scandinavians have got it all organised. That’s why they can afford to be so friendly. The Scandinavians are rich people with small populations. That’s a good start. Unlike us Africans, they keep their families small and affordable. Bankability comes way ahead of ubuntu.
How did they become so rich and us so poor? That is something that nobody in Scandinavia will tell you. Why should they, in fact? Would you tell someone where you had found your own personal golden goose, presuming you were lucky enough to find one?
So you have to pump them. “What’s the story?” you ask persistently.
“We want to help you,” they reply.
“Help me to do what?” you shoot back, getting irritated.
” Not you personally,” they reply affably. “Your people.”
“I’d rather it was me personally,” you shoot back. “I’ve got a lot of problems that a few kroners would actually go a long way to solving.”
So they smile those affable, North Pole smiles at you again.
“That’s not how it works,” they say, and then swiftly offer to buy you a sandwich, so that things don’t look as bad as they actually are.
Scandinavia, you see, was one of the leading supporters of the anti-apartheid struggle. This we will never forget. Scandinavian solidarity groups provided astonishing levels of financial, logistic and moral support (but never military support, in spite of being among the world’s pre-eminent arms manufacturers, which tended to irritate some of us from time to time. We could have used the odd SAAB jet fighter or Bofors howitzer here and there, but never mind.)
In the post-apartheid era (that’s now, kazi) the Scandinavian groups insist on keeping going. This is embarrassing. It implies that the struggle is still going on. Which I guess it is.
But what is the present struggle?
Well, if you think you and I are struggling to answer this question for ourselves, you have no idea what it’s like trying to answer it for the many well-meaning solidarity groups that are still operating, with the support of their governments, in those far off northern countries.
It’s an unlikely scenario. Here we are, sitting in a modest but well-appointed boardroom in a Scandinavian solidarity organisation’s offices. It’s all so nice. But they are suffering more than I am, because they don’t know exactly what they should be doing with all the lovely lolly their government has downloaded on them to manage on our behalf. What do I think? How can they be better at what they do? What do I think are the most pressing issues in Africa?
“Africa?” I say. “What do you mean by ‘Africa’? It’s quite a big place.”
“Mhm,” is the reply. “But moving on: do you think we are being too pro-active?”
“What does pro-active mean?”
“Well, making decisions for people on the ground. You know? Should we be taking the lead from them, rather than them taking the lead from us?”
Should I be flattered? Instead I’m flustered.
“Look, what do you actually want to know from me?” I cry in a muffled way. After all, I am not on my home ground, but on theirs. One has to be reasonably polite.
Out come those affable smiles again. It is a little like being in a science-fiction movie, without the benefit of a plot, and without the kind of bucks you would command if you happened to stumble into a leading role in The Matrix, for example.
Like I say, kazi, we still have a long way to go. We might well try to forget the issues of “the rich north” and “the poor south”, brushing brutal reality under the carpet behind the flimsy plastic spear and shield of the African Renaissance, Nepad, and the African Union.
The problem with the unending aid cycle (which began when we were still prancing about in skins, if you recall, and the missionaries, including Scandinavian ones, girded their loins and personally came to tell us what was what, at great sacrifice to themselves) is that no one knows what to make of it any more.
And the headache of the aid-givers (bless their little hearts) is that the aid recipients are no longer grateful. Nor are they articulate about what it is they are not grateful about. They just want more aid. Period.
The funny thing is that you, the recipient, the povo, the potential short-term success story in the aid saga, are the one who is now expected to provide a justification for the ongoing necessity for aid organisations from the rich northern countries.
And these are countries that are seriously rich. Let me stroll you through some images of just how rich.
Renting a two-room apartment in Oslo can set you back a cool R18 000 a month. A MacDonald’s cheeseburger will cost you R39, and a double cheeseburger will set you back R103,50.
“Wha…?” I hear you gasp in disbelief. “A cheeseburger is a cheeseburger. How can it cost six or seven times more in the north than it does down here in the south? Do they make them out of luxury cows that we don’t know about?”
The answer is: I do not know. Ordinary Scandinavians have salaries that we can only dream about. Because their salaries are high, their prices are high. I think it’s called voodoo economics or something.
But the thing is that because they have such amazing disposable incomes, they can afford to spend a little bit of them on aid to the impoverished south.
The rights and wrongs of rich and poor are something that will never be sorted out. But we’ve been poor for an awfully long time, kazi, and looks like it’s set to stay that way.