Like our kids, but not really

Recently, I came across a list of nine things that one has to do if she/he wants to live in a country like the Central African Republic. I found this list so accurate that I want to reproduce it here:

First, take out all the furniture: leave a few old blankets, a kitchen table, maybe a wooden chair. You’ve never had a bed, remember.

Second, throw out your clothes. Each person in the family may keep the oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. The head of the family has the only pair of shoes.

Third, all kitchen appliances have vanished. Keep a box of matches, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt and a handful of onions, a dish of dried beans. Rescue some moldy potatoes from the garbage can; those are tonight’s meal.

Fourth, dismantle the bathroom, shut off the running water, and take out the wiring and the lights and everything that runs by electricity.

Fifth, take away the house and move the family into the tool shed.

Sixth, no more postman, fireman, government services. The two-class-room school is three miles away but only two of your seven children attend anyway, and they must walk.

Seventh, throw out your bankbooks, stock certificates, pension plans, and insurance policies. You now have a cash hoard of $5.

Eighth, get out and start cultivating three acres. Try hard to raise $300 in cash crops because your landlord wants one-third and your moneylender 10%.

Ninth, find some way for your children to bring in a little extra money so you have something to eat most days. But it won’t be enough to keep bodies healthy, so lop off 25 to 30 years of your life.

There are, of course, many other things that are missing on this list: no health care, for example, which results in a variety of different diseases; no employment, and for those who do work, no salary for months on end; women generally have no say on how many children they end up having, which more often than not will mean a lifetime of bearing children and caring for them, etc., etc.

But while this is true about the vast majority of places in the CAR, you will also be surprised to see that a small minority, especially in the major cities, still enjoys access to some of the same amenities that we here in the West have.

For example, we were traveling through a little town and I noticed a line of young men outside a rectangular shaped building. I went in and was amazed to see a big screen with the most strikingly beautiful picture I had seen anywhere (much better than I have at home). They were watching European soccer and having a blast. You could hear the sound of the generator blasting from a distance, but once inside the young men were in a transe-like state, glued to every movement coming out of that incredible Panasonic screen. Don't ask me how they came up with the money for the ticket to get in.

In Berberati, the second largest city in the CAR, I had the best Internet connection in the country. Here, in a room with about eight computers, men and women took turns checking their e-mail and being connected to the rest of the world for $1 per hour. Of all the times I went there, there was never a free computer in the room. It was here that I also met a rapper who performed for me both in Sango and in French. I got him on my video camera and he put on quite a show. He told me that his idol was
"50 cent." I had only heard about "50 cent" a couple of times, but while traveling in the CAR, I noticed that he was bigger than life there. Young men in the markets proudly wear an entire "50 cent" outfit and can readily repeat some of his songs, in English! I also saw young men watching old footage of Michael Jordan's basketball days while he was playing for North Carolina.

At moments like this I thought: no matter where they live, young people are the same. But then our car would move on and I would see dozens of young men gathered along the roads, doing nothing; children showing signs of severe malnutrition, some with skin diseases so devastating that their hair was completely gone. Then, I would quickly change my mind: no, these kids are nothing like our kids, for no matter how hard they try, they may not have a chance to be here tomorrow.

Pastor Ivanildo Trindade