Pretty Fly for a White Guy
By Joe Downes
During the exile that was Peace Corps Lesotho’s consolidation in Thaba Nchu, I was approached by the Diversity Committee to write an article concerning my experiences as a heterosexual, white male in Southern Africa. Indeed, if it were not for the matrilineal side of the family’s proclivity for the Holy See, I would be the veritable prototype of your standard WASP. Throughout history (at least the last two millennia or so), my demographic has been the most advantaged group in the entire world. We’re the guys who wrote you out of the American constitution, women and minorities (unless in case you were “lucky enough” to be a slave and have counted as 3/5 of a white, land-owning male). We’re the guys who took your land and gave you smallpox-ridden blankets, Native Americans. We’re the guys who put almost the entire world under the transatlantic, colonial yoke, killing or exiling anyone who stood against us. In short, despite an extremely checkered history of repression, prejudice and unspeakable crimes against our fellow man, we’ve written the history books and reinforced our position at the top of most major industries worldwide. When you think of the American, white male, it’s almost impossible not to think of affluence, power and the freedom to pursue his happiness, even if it comes at the significant expense of others.
When viewed through the prism of this historical context, it is easy to see why every single day I am regularly pestered for money, work, candy and help of some kind or another. When people see me, they often see a guy who can afford to buy them a whole case of beer, let alone just one Maluti. Although I do not particularly like sweets, children automatically assume my pockets are literally bursting with candy at any given moment. Indeed, in a country with significant ties to both the Free State Province (and its many disproportionately advantaged, white Afrikaners) and the United States of America (think PEPFAR, USAID… and many disproportionately advantaged white people), I can understand why an assumption might exist that I’ve got employment and funds at my disposal.
Accordingly, while I may have to deal with being pestered due to my assumed wealth, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to certain advantages here in Lesotho due to my background. People generally give me respect without any sort of merit and are usually pretty excited to have a large, stupidly grinning lekhooa in their presence. I am usually consulted and my opinions treated with respect. No Ntate has ever tried to make a drunken pass at me, although I have definitely had to endure more than my fair share of drunken monologues in limited English (I’m pretty sure this comes down to my personal character as an overly attentive sucker who can’t say no, however.). Ultimately due to these stereotypes about my Anglo-Saxon heritage, even my hair is valuable as a magical token (muti). And thus, it is the bane of us white, male ex-pats everywhere to receive constant attention, both positive and negative, as targets of pleas, crime and countless appeals.
… Oh but that I was a true ex-pat! My Lord, would I revel in a salary exceeding $200 a month and the ability to own a car! I would make it rain sweets as I cruised the main drag of Hlotse with the reverberating praises of my greatness echoing into the Leribe sky. But alas, I am a mere volunteer: the lowest of the low in the ex-pat community. I have no money, I neither like nor keep candy on my person, and, as of writing this, I don’t even have a host organization (although I’m plenty busy) in which to employ others. I spend most nights watching brackish water drip from multiple places in my room, wishing someone would buy me a beer.
Thus, it is my personal mission to proselytize this simple fact to Basotho: While we should always respect the diversity and individual backgrounds of others, at the end of the day we are all members of the same human tribe. There is nothing special about white people. Human beings are human beings and we all deserve the same treatment. While I respect the diversity and the unique viewpoints of others, I honestly feel like racial or gender based distinctions are superficial and erroneous. Like you, Ntate, I need a job. Like you, I thoroughly enjoy house music, papa ka nama and other common human pleasures. And like you, I could sure as hell use a beer right now if you’d buy me one. There also seems to be some sort of belief that I am (as a white, heterosexual male) automatically a smoker and have cigarettes. While I do partake in the rare cigarette, this is not true and I take it as a simple sign that Basotho think I’m just really, really cool.
In all seriousness, however, I think us white, heterosexual male volunteers have a serious responsibility to communicate to Basotho that we are all not privileged and do not condone a past culture (of privilege and power) with which we are so often associated. Yes, some may think that for a white, male volunteer to say thusly is naïve, unrealistic and somewhat disrespectful towards others. However, I would venture that assuming all white males ignorantly enjoy and condone these inherent advantages is a small form of prejudice unto itself. I think it’s absolutely deplorable what my ancestors have done to secure advantageous circumstances and position. Ultimately, at the end of the day, I think it is the duty of those in my demographic to transmit this simple message: While respecting our differences regarding ethnicity and culture (and possibly sex), we are all simple humans at our core and should not be judged by basic stereotypes. Whatever privilege or plea you extend toward me can be extended to my colleagues who are non-white and/or women, because, despite whatever superficial differences might exist, we all should be treated the same.
Perhaps it would be easier to convey that message with sincerity if some members of our society (most notably the law enforcement community) actually reflected this ideal in the practice of their actions. Nonetheless, I resolutely believe this ideal of equality exists and is a cornerstone of American culture, even if it doesn’t always show through in the actions of some Americans. In accordance with Peace Corps’ commitment to teaching host-country nationals about the positive aspects of American culture, we need to stress this important belief and prominently feature it during our service here.
Now… how about that Maluti, Ntate?
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