Wednesday, March 27, 2013

A Country Run on Personal Favors


Good thing I've got them, we're flush in personal favors
We all have that smug friend, who just after getting a sweet job offer reminds you that“it’s not what you know, but who you know.” Though this cliché might be saying that your smug friend can be successful despite being a complete idiot, it is definitely true. All the more so when a young nation grows at an uncontrollably break neck pace. As a result, Mozambique doesn't run on family honor, or pride in a hard day’s work, or even personal responsibility. Instead, for better or worse, it runs on personal favors.

Our event had a pretty good draw: over 80 people attended
This fact of life affects the way most things here operate. When my colleagues at the school want to withdraw their salary from their bank account in one lump sum as opposed to small installments from the ATM, it has very little to do with if they filled out sufficient paperwork. It does have very much to do with if they have shared sufficient cups of beer or church services with the bank tellers. If I want to use the photocopier in my school’s office, I better have given the pedagogical director on duty that day one of the Statue of Liberty magnets that I brought back from the US, because otherwise they’ll probably be out of paper. And when a bus is stopped at a police checkpoint, whether the police check all the drivers’ documents has a lot to do with how many family members they share

This cultural aspect became especially obvious this
Our municipal police commander handing the winner of  the
poster contest his prize.  This is why uniforms are important:
without this caption he'd just be a random guy.
 past weekend. On Saturday, weeks of planning, inviting, practicing, chatting, and pleading came to fruition when the Escuteiros de Alto Molocue held their first major event: A Baixo Acidentes das Motociclistas (Down with Motorcycle Accidents). Sparked by a series of high speed helmetless motorcycle crashes that killed several students from our school, the scouts had decided to host an event on the importance of motorcycle safety. Through radio announcements, flyers posted around town, announcements at the school, and personal invitations to motorcycle taxi drivers, community members were invited to the Casa de Cultura (House of Culture) for the 2 hours of theater, lectures, and contests. The motorcycle safety lecture was of particular importance, as it would be led by a uniformed member of the police. Not only would this add weight to the message of “slow down, use lights at night, and wear a helmet”, but it would also add legitimacy to the event overall.

A couple days before the event, all the pieces were in place: authorization from the Municipal Council had been given, the Casa de Cultura was reserved, judges for the poster contest were confirmed, and props for the scout’s theater piece had been procured. Only one thing was missing: a police officer to do the lecture. You would think that with us having sent invitations to all of Alto Molocue’s 3 police forces (national, municipal, and transit), one would be able to send a representative. But come Thursday afternoon, not one had responded in the affirmative. Most vexing was the response of the commander of the transit police, who’s direct responsibility it is to prevent motor vehicle accidents. It seemed that some combination of a church services, carnival dancing, and a possible future car accident would make him unavailable. But I knew the real reason: spite. You see, a few weeks earlier, a certain volunteer (me) hadn’t shown up to a very informally planned night time private English lesson. As a result, he was going to just ignore this event. But my guilt ridden text messages (Mr Commander, our fellow citizens are dying and we need to do something!) must have been successful. Because at the last minute he decided to call in a personal favor with the commander of the municipal police, who showed up and gave the lecture. Sure, he might not have been wearing a uniform, but maybe I should have thought to bring him a Statue of Liberty magnet, or at least a Michael Jackson billion dollar bill.

So lesson learned, informally planned or not I should show up all my appointments. Here, your most powerful currency is friendship, after bacon of course.



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