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.

Adam Smith and Bacon

Adam Smith, author of The Wealth of Nations and owner of one of the blandest names to have every existed, wisely stated that “All money is a matter of belief.” Well, I now have a fervent belief that bacon is money, so therefore it is.

Last month, my site mate Dylan received a very anxiously expected care package. His parents had sent him 148 strips of Hormel Pre-Cooked Bacon, which might be the greatest thing to happen to food since baby carrots. After patting humanity on the back for inventing 8-month-shelf-stable-pre-cooked-bacon technology, Dylan, Eric, and I immediately got to bargaining and trading our care package items on the basis of the bacon price. Though many were negotiated and discussed, only one was ever realized: my 8 fun sized Baby Ruths for 15 strips of Dylan’s bacon. Immediately after, disaster stuck. Despite both traders walking away satisfied, a suggested 5 strips of bacon for  1 bar of Eric’s Trader Joes Dark Chocolate caused a market collapse. Investor confidence was shattered as pundits and analysts scrambled to figure out how the economy would survive. Luckily for our taste buds, paralysis did not last for long. Though bacon was no longer traded (Dylan loves his bacon), lighters, cheese, calendars, and even months of fridge space became acceptable currency. The market had rebounded and a depression was averted.

The Strategic Junk Food Reserve

Of course, without a regulatory framework, some buyers were taken advantage of. In one famous case, a hapless buyer (me) was offered a Chocolate Chip Cliff Bar immediately after summiting a local mountain, which was immediately eaten. Unfortunately, the price of said Cliff Bar was only settled after it had been turned into liquid (digested) assets. This resulted in what many experts suspect to be one of the worst cases of price gouging that the AME (Alto Molócuè Exchange) has ever seen, 1 Cliff Bar for 2sqin of Cote d’Or Belgian Chocolate Covered Marzipan. Gasp! The horror! Since then, consumer (literally) protection laws have been put in place.

Unfortunately, there is a down side to using food items as currency: inflation. That hungry bugger aggressively lowers the value of savings accounts and strategic reserves alike. Just today, inflation ate two Cote d’Or Dark Chocolate Mignonettes and a large spoonful of Nutela. Greedy inflation. The hope among all market players is that a long awaited stimulus package of currency arrives soon so that trading can continue. Anyone have a suggested price for a tablespoon of cheese powder?