The people: culture - the wild card

UNESCO Courier, March, 1999 by Ramesh Singh

Anti-poverty projects in developing countries cannot hope to succeed unless they find leverage in local cultures

In sub-Saharan Africa, the number of undernourished people more than doubled between 1970 and 1990, rising from 103 million to 215 million.

In the hills of western Nepal, a poor dairy farmer may have little more to offer his kids than milk to drink. Cut-off from the markets of Kathmandu, these farmers must barter and trade with middle-men to earn a mere pittance. About two years ago, a group of local and international nongovernmental organizations decided to try and widen the farmers' financial horizons. Together, they set up a string of collection points along the highway leading to the capital so that farmers could drop off their milk daily, with the state dairy corporation looking after the supplies' delivery and sale. Before long, they ran up against a major roadblock: the people manning the collection points refused to accept the milk of the Dalits - the untouchable caste which is forbidden to handle the water or food of upper castes. By not recognizing this dictate of the local culture, they had unwittingly set up a poverty-eradication project which rejected the poorest people.

What were the alternatives? Accept the local culture and try to set up an alternative market for the Dalits? Or try to break past the cultural barriers? In the end, they broke through with the support of human rights activists who streamed in from the capital to put pressure on the local authorities.

I tell this story to highlight a dilemma often ignored in discussions concerning poverty-eradication: how can we respect local culture without accepting the status quo? Local culture has become something of a sacred cow for "international development experts" in the last ten years or so. This reaction is understandable given all the wasted resources and harm resulting from attempts to "import" development projects from one situation to another. In short, just because a project "works" in one country or region of a country, it will not necessarily reap the same success in another. Some of the failed plans now appear as pure folly: telling African women to stop breast-feeding their babies, neglecting to teach children to write in their mother tongues and trying to convince farmers to grow crops their communities didn't want to eat.

A successful project clearly requires a solid understanding and respect for local culture. However, this respect should not divert us from the ultimate goal: to reduce poverty. In my experience, local culture is more often than not the cause of poverty. From The Gambia to Nepal, it is not hard to identify cultural practices that limit the potential of women, children or ethnic groups. The dominant culture is structured to keep certain individuals or groups in the service of others. It perpetuates their poverty.

I am not suggesting that the role of the outsider is to arrive in a community with a list of"needed changes". Every community, no matter how poor, has individuals with very lucid understandings of the cultural dynamics at play. These people have plans and ideas on how to improve their condition. It is the job of the outsider to understand the local culture well enough to find these people and offer support.

Gaining access into a community means gaining people's trust - a formidable challenge, particularly when it comes to the very poor. These people are "invisible". They are never the ones to greet you at the village gates but that doesn't mean they aren't watching. The challenge of gaining their trust becomes twice as difficult if you are seen staying with the relatively wealthy or powerful villagers. The poor will never trust you if you frequent the homes of those considered responsible for their poverty.

A lot of time and a little trust

Ironically, one of the most telling signs of the very poor is their silence. Organize a public meeting to discuss the needs of the community and you can be certain that those who speak the most need your help the least. The very poor are either shocked by the idea that someone is asking them to make demands or completely fatalistic about the chances of their lives changing.

A lot of time and a little trust can overcome some of this fatalism. I remember working in Sindhupalchowk district of Nepal, where after six months of meetings, a man finally felt comfortable to recount a bit of his past. This very poor farm labourer was once relatively wealthy. He traced his problems back to the year his father died. According to local custom of the Tamang ethnic group, a family must spend a tremendous amount on a funeral, with a village feast lasting several days and gifts of clothing given to neighbours. This man and his wife sold a few animals to cover the costs. The next year, his mother died and they sold everything but their house to pay for the funeral.

This man had a plan. With just one female buffalo, he could earn money by breeding the animal and selling its milk to buy back his wife's gold jewellery which was sold to pay for the last funeral. By building on these assets, his son would then be able to pay for his parents' funerals without going into debt. In short, his solution to a better life lay in preparing for death.