Mzungu, Mzungu!

Oh the joys of being a white boy in Africa! Similar to the gringo interpellation found in most of Latin America or the ricain stereotype often heard in France, mzungu has become my designated name in the lushois communities (the wavy blond hair probably doesn’t help). Clearly, my transition is well on its way, be it swallowing daily anti-malaria pills or decrypting multi-consonant Swahili words. Taxi buses have been an experience in themselves. It is queer that freedom can be found in the simplest things such as cramming into a half-functioning vehicle at 7:30 am while the sun still warms the chilly air.

During the avant-midi, I typically accompany and observe Loan Officers in their respective groups. No wonder they are so apprehensive, they probably think monsieur Roger is grading them. More seriously, my main discovery has been the complex structure of a microfinance organization. The more I learn, the more I realize the array of methodologies that exist both inside and outside of the HOPE network. One repeated example has been the institutional differences between FINCA and HOPE RDC. I have heard many stories about FINCA using credit to seize the homes of their indebted clients. HOPE clearly approaches the problem of delinquency from an opposite perspective as the group is empowered to lead their brother or sister in Christ to a conscious realization of his or her mistake. To this regard, I have been deeply impressed by the amount of decision-making entrusted to the solidarity groups, particularly Group Leadership. Many clients have proven to be faithful entrepreneurs and exhibit a true desire to see their families and communities prosper.

Afternoons are ever-changing as I could be double checking new loan cycle dossiers or witnessing the first training session of a promising group of clients. Regardless of my location, I am eventually granted a lunch break which I half-heartedly accept with gratitude. Culturally, most Congolese seem to not eat lunch even in the HOPE office. Guilt tends to invade me at times, however, I have found a small trendy commerçant down the street that sells the best beignets in the world. Papa Chambui is the sweetest man around and I can’t help but smile when I walk in and see his face light up. A few hundred Congolese francs (less than two dollars) for a bottle of D’jino (the local pop), a half-dozen African pastries and some politically animated conversations? Why not.

At dusk, my workaholic superiors are usually still carefully counting the daily reimbursements. As I am graciously driven back halfway across town, night is always quick to fall upon us. Driving has become the prime time to dialogue about life though, be it politics, microfinance, poverty, family or faith. I have been bluffed by the wealth of knowledge held by the general population, which can range from classic debates around Western insurgency to deeply theological questions about injustice in the world.

Being in the bush, I cannot hide anymore from the hard questions I use to philosophize in my college dorm. Being a white boy in Africa, I cannot circumvent the everyday kid that asks me, “Why do you white people have everything and us nègres nothing?”

Microfinance is one of the few sustainable tools in poverty alleviation. However, a loan will never reconcile a nation of divided people. Dialogue and forgiveness are the first steps toward any true form of development, be it for the mzungu or negro.

The good news is not that HOPE RDC has an outstanding loan portfolio, in fact, it doesn't. The greater truth is that empowerment coupled to solidarity liberate the individual from poverty, and that reality keeps me smiling.