27 March 2012
I met with KEDA (in the form of one person, the secretary) today, in the usual frustrating, scattered kind of meeting I have with him. “Where have you been?” he says, as if I’m the one who’s been out of touch. “At my dining room table trying to make up work to do for you,” I want to say, “You’re supposed to be managing me, not the other way around.” Sigh. Here’s another good one: “Let me explain to you why we can’t do anything without donor funding,” he says. “People here are poor.” (Well, that’s essentially what he says). Me: “No way, you mean this is a poor country? And all along I thought people lived in mud huts and only ate one meal a day because they liked it. Thanks for clearing that up. If only I had chosen to live with real Tanzanians I would have know that.” Ok I didn’t say that, but I thought it with intensity. But then, this relationship didn’t get off to a good start when they allowed me to spend thousands of dollars to come here knowing their program really didn’t exist and then they want my unconditional help. Did I mention, ‘sigh’?
Thanks for listening.