Series 17 – The Village Visit (and Birds)

Experience Rural African Life (But Not Really)

Over dinner a fellow tourist talked about her moving experience doing a “village visit” in another part of Namibia. It’s a thing to do, but I’ve never been interested. I find humans equally unappealing across all cultures and ethnicities. “Visiting” them while traveling sounds awful.

Their travel agent shipped a box of trinkets to present to the community elders during this visit and/or experience. A whole song and dance is done when rich white people do this, sometimes involving literal singing and dancing.   So, for example, the villagers say their name and you repeat it, after which everyone applauds. And vise-versa. The children present you with tokens, which you are supposed to buy. Gifts are exchanged, the box of trinkets you dutifully carried across the Atlantic. Their specific box contained certain shells, which are valued as status symbols in the community. One recipient began crying, “… tears of joy” upon receiving such a coveted totem. The local guide supervising the experience is who decides which villager gets what.

Do you feel a little strange in your tummy? Like, who here is getting exploited – villagers, tourists, or both? I have some thoughts.

First of all, who is this guide to be distributing anything? Giving a human this much power is a recipe for corruption. It sounds creepy.

While song and dance is an important part of African culture, maybe every culture, nobody doing these visits is African. We cannot meaningfully participate. So, then, this is a show? Are the performers being compensated? Rather than just gawk at the locals and “their quaint, simple ways,” is someone telling foreigners what these songs and dances mean? Art needs context — that’s why museums exist, so educated people can tell us yokels which art is good and which is trash. I don’t know that the Mona Lisa is a “masterpiece.” It looks like an odd portrait of some lady some guy painted a bazillion years ago. Thankfully, it’s behind armored glass in an old, fancy, ornate building in France. Thus, a masterpiece. Got it.

I worry some outsiders might get the impression that Africans are simple, happy people who just like to sing and dance, content in their lives. That’s terribly ignorant. They are fully formed people with hopes, dreams, and fears just like you and me. To reduce them into singing caricature is reductionism … not a very honest look at their lives.

Is this poverty tourism, dressed up with cultural spice to make it less unseemly? I know some tourists want to see how the world’s very poor live, which I find odd but a decidedly human thing to want. We as a species do love rubbernecking in all its delicious incarnations. Admittedly, I am not above such curiousness but do manage a modicum of self-control occasionally. I mean, this isn’t a cheese plate.

And why are we introducing rare and high value commodities into a closed economic system? That can’t be good. Is the villager’s “tears of joy” real? Also, what sick fuck gets their jollies flaunting incomprehensible wealth in front of other people?

Suppose Bill Gates, one of the richest men alive, toured through your community and home with a look of shocked pity on his face, marveling at how simple and small your life is. After the tour, you then perform for Mr. Gates a favorite hymn or emotionally significant song, like Losing My Religion by R.E.M or Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot. Maybe with some movement to go with, and SMILE! Hopefully he’ll throw you a few bucks before returning to his life of abundance, departing via private helicopter, to sleep in a palace where his every comfort is met. You, a distant, curious memory.

If that scenario isn’t appealing to you, I doubt it’s appealing to Africans either. People are people. I bet you would tell Mr. Gates to fuck right off. I know I would. Sure my life is small compared to Mr. Gates‘s life, but it’s mine. Why would African villagers feel any different?

Likely, they don’t. It’s their job, and just like us, they do things they don’t like for income. That means, then, you, the tourist, are not getting a true glimpse of village life. You’re getting a product. They aren’t the same thing.

We exchange money for products all the time. Nothing wrong with it. Let us not pretend, though, this is some authentic, moving moment in your or their lives. People reaching across time and language and culture to communicate the true meaning of friendship.

It’s an afternoon matinée; dial it back.