The Fourth 'C'

As I prepare to head out on my first ginnery tour today, it is dawning on me that I am learning about much more than globalization, cotton and poverty here in East Africa. I have now interviewed over forty people at length. All of the researchers, academics, civil servants, regulators, consultants, nongovernmental service deliverers, civil society advocates and market players that I have listened to have taught me a lot about my topic. Beyond research, these strong and impressive people have also got me thinking about where I am going with my life. I have yet to interview anyone whose position I would consider uninteresting or boring. The politics of what they do intrigues me. It has also been fascinating to observe the various ways that these people impart their knowledge to a mzungu (white guy) that can only ‘sema kwa kiswahili kidogo sana’ (speak in Swahili a little bit). Sometimes I find myself wondering if a shaggy headed and privileged graduate student looking for answers will ever stumble into my office. Assuming that I have an office and some sort of worthy reputation in the future, I would welcome such a person with open arms and give them all the time in the world. Now that I have benefited from so many tête-à-têtes, I know that it is incumbent upon me to give back.

Prior to this trip I did not concern myself too much with giving. I took pride in the fact that my research focused on the meaning of poverty and the factors that keep people poor, and was hopeful that I would be able to produce knowledge that could be used to help people overcome the things that have impoverished them. However, as with any academic work, this project also aimed to advance my career, and at times, this latter facet was all-consuming. Somewhere between jumping through the hoops in the politics department at McMaster, applying for awards, polishing articles for publication consideration and encountering the dreaded ethics board I forgot the meaning of community. I was certainly reading and writing about a marginalized global community – 100 million people rely upon cotton production for their livelihoods – but my C.V. building was blinding me to the fact that I was missing out on engaging with communities in my own life. I was not really interacting with my colleagues at McMaster, my old friends from Collingwood, Queen’s and York, or with people in my Wellesley Street neighbourhood. I had become what several of my old professors would call an “academic climber”. Looking back on this period, it is clear to me that I was achieving my objectives in an isolated and disconnected way, and that I really was only ‘successful’ at self-preservation and self-aggrandizement. I am finally learning that success is not just individualistic or about personal advancement.

My Dad used to say that there were three things that people needed to be successful: courage, confidence and concentration. He called it the three ‘Cs’, and the formula could be applied to activities as diverse as learning how to drive, writing papers, building businesses or even the dilemmas of family life. My Dad was and continues to be a pillar of a community. Living in Collingwood, it was so obvious to him that people had to be connected and engaged with their surroundings that he did not include this fourth and all-important ‘C’ in his dictum. During my high school years I was really part of a community at the YMCA. Coaching the swim team and the Special Olympians, teaching three year-olds how to swim and lifeguard duties kept me interacting and giving back. During my twenties such community engagement has been sporadic. It briefly flickered while I was living in Sydney, when I was politically active at Queen’s and at the Vaughan Road housing collective in Toronto. As a treeplanter, and at most other times during the past decade, I was an individualistic prick. Perhaps this confessional can help me to move beyond the past, and embrace a brighter, more fulfilling future.

I have just returned to Mwanza refreshed from another long weekend with Mireille. We spent her birthday in Entebbe and Kampala. As a teacher, a friend and a lover she is helping me to find the balance and unlearn my anti-social habits.

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Today was unbelievable. Never before have I seen such beautiful countryside. Mwanza is truly stunning. I actually saw quite a bit more of it than I should have. I made the mistake of getting on the wrong ferry out of Mwanza first thing this morning. I enjoyed the side-trip. Donald Max of Copcot Tanzania had arranged to transport me to his operation in Geita. Charles, one of his most experienced drivers, took me West after Donald helped me to get to the correct ferry terminus. En route with Charles I got to see thousands of young cotton plants in the fields on a virtually cloud free day in the heart of rainy season. I will remain in Geita for a few days to check out Copcot’s CSR work and learn about Donald’s operations. He is a consummate host.