I parked my car as close as I could to the shop I needed to visit. Scrunched in the narrow stall I was still several blocks away from my intended destination. Often street kids will run alongside your vehicle as you navigate the narrow roads of Arusha, hoping to assist you in finding an opening and persistently demanding payment when at last you pull in. Their hope is that because they helped you see a space among the rows of cars and mini-buses you might be inclined to compensate them. From the moment your door opens the “begging” begins.
For Tanzania and other developing countries the issue of “begging” permeates society. As industrialization continues and city centers expand, the population of street peddlers grows in tandem. The problem intensifies as manufacturing growth mixes with natural occurring phenomena such as draught and famine. As more and more individuals flock to urban areas in hopes of industry jobs, more and more are pressed into street begging when work dries up in times of economic depression. In the last several years alone the small sidewalks that line the roads through Tanzania’s major cities have swollen with men, women, and children pressing their outstretched hands in the direction of each passerby.
Although poverty and limited resources are often precursors to begging, they aren’t the exclusive entryway into the lifestyle. As time moves forward others see begging as a viable alternative to work or school, and despite the ability to function in industry or trade, those individuals take to the streets looking for handouts. Often older men and women will feign injury or disability in hopes of stirring compassion and subsequent donations from individuals who pass their way. While the government has made inroads into the problem through rehabilitation programs, charitable organizations, and the outlawing of “begging” in its traditional sense, the issue continues to expand.
For the missionaries that have served in Tanzania over the years and for many of the Non-Government Organizations that seek to support the growth of the country the issue of how one is to handle “begging” has been dealt with in a decisive manner. Our guidelines and those of many other organizations simply do not allow the giving of money, food, or tangible items to street beggars. While we do provide financial resources to groups and associations as a means to assisting them in becoming self-supporting, we do not hand out money or resources to individuals. Our goal has always been to support programs that seek to remedy the cause of the problem instead of handing money over ill-conceived and ignorant acts of trying to immediately change a situation. Education, healthcare, and job-training all benefit the country on a deeper and more sustainable level.
A number of factors have influenced our decision to provide support in this way. Firstly, the giving of money to a beggar, regardless of his or her age, begins or continues a harmful cycle. Instead of the motivation to return to school, to look for work, or to sell tangible goods you are instead encouraging the idea that begging is a viable means to gaining resources. If someone is handed something for free, why in turn would they ever seek a different means of procuring that item again? Be it money or tangible gifts you have unwittingly perpetuated a cycle of poverty. This principle works on a large scale as well. A number of years ago missionaries built churches around the country. When those missionaries left and the church was expected to be self-supporting and self-propagating, a growing number of Tanzanians refused. “Why would we pay to build more churches? We didn’t have to contribute to the ones we have now, and if we wait long enough the foreigners will come back and give us more.” Whether you are building a church or tossing a few coins to a woman on the street, you are unwittingly forming inappropriate relationships and expectations between foreigners and locals.
Special consideration is given when the person asking for a handout is a child. It’s not unusual for children as young as 3 or 4 to be standing on the roadside yelling for money as tourists drive through town on the way to their safaris. In giving to these boys and girls you may be even doing greater harm than simply encouraging them to continue the lifestyle. You may be unknowingly contributing to human trafficking. For a number of small children in Tanzania and abroad, they find themselves working as part of larger more concentrated network of beggars. Somewhere an individual or group has formed this network as a means of profiting from the good-hearted intentions of others. When money is given to a child it is funneled up the organization and into the pockets of the leadership. I’ve seen kids on the streets in Tanzania accept money from tourists before running off to hand it to an older adult and returning to their post.
In some instances people make themselves feel better by bringing tangible goods to give away instead of change. In those cases foreigners in luxury safari vehicles drop pens or school supplies out of the windows as they pass by children screaming for money. The kids scoop up the supplies and the tourists convince themselves that they have helped children go to school. In reality those material goods are quickly exchanged or sold for financial gain.
The reality is that any type of giving to an individual or beggar is harmful. Perhaps you are encouraging a cycle of poverty or harming foreign relationships and beneficial models of resource disbursement. Either way, you are doing much more harm than good. That doesn’t mean we should turn our back on the needs we see, but it does mean we need to make educated decisions of how to best give of our resources. Again, there are a number of organizations that are both reputable and responsible that have been making inroads in developing countries for years. Organizations that have the knowledge and experience to assist in ending cycles of poverty and encouraging self-sustainability. There are better ways to connect with the beggars that enter our life than emptying our pockets.
When I stepped out of the car that blazingly hot day in Africa, all of this was running through my mind. The boy who had pointed out the free space that I was now parked in stood pressed between the adjacent car and my own. When I squeezed out the driver’s side door and jumped in the thin space between our cars he was already inches from me. Immediately he started mumbling and gesturing towards his mouth. His eyes were downcast as he rubbed his belly and spurted out chunks of broken English, “food, food, give food.” To test his English acumen I responded in clear words, “Speak up brother, I can’t hear you.” He remained motioning to his mouth and blocking me from the sidewalk. I pretended ignorance in Swahili long enough for him to become frustrated at my lack of understanding.
I changed to Swahili and repeated my command to speak up. In hearing his native tongue he immediately raised his eyes and met mine. At that moment he realized, as most beggars do when they learn they are dealing with someone who has been in the country for a while, that a handout was going to be a lot more difficult. While a tourist may throw shillings out in an act of compassion or in the hopes the awkward conversation might end, a foreign resident was another matter. After living in country for several months people become accustomed to the constant begging and the conversation is decidedly different than it would be with a short-term tourist.
“Walk with me,” I exhorted, pushing him out of the way and continuing on to the sidewalk. I was several yards ahead when he caught up with me. I suppose he assumed that by following there was still a glimmer of a possibility he could get paid.
I started asking him questions as we walked. How far did you make it in school? Where do you live now? What kind of money can you make everyday begging?
By the time we had reached my intended shop his disposition was radically different. He spoke clearly, he walked with his face and eyes upright. Even his distended belly, which he had shoved out upon our initial meeting, was sucked in. We were laughing together as I opened the door to the small store. I asked him to wait for me outside while I went in.
When I came out again, he was smiling at my arrival. Warmly we began the walk back towards my car. I began to offer advice.. “Can’t you make something to sell? Don’t you have a marketable skill? I can’t just give you money, but maybe if you had something to sell we could work something out.” Smiling he responded that he knew how to sew. He had made handbags before, simple cloth purses and satchels fastened from brightly colored Tanzanian fabrics. I encouraged him to start again, that there really is a market for those items with foreigners and tourists. He seemed upbeat and we smiled and dreamed together over the last several blocks.
As we rounded the corner and my car came into view everything changed. As I opened my door it seemed a switch had gone off in his brain. The laughing intelligent kid reverted back to the weak mumbling beggar. He slumped over again, put his hand out, and peered at the ground once more. It was like some spark of hope and encouragement had taken over during our walk and then in an instant had gone again. The actor returned to the stage and the play proceeded. I lifted his face and made him look into my eyes. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“It’s just easier,” he mumbled. For years he had made enough money to survive simply by looking down and raising his hand. He wasn’t going anywhere, and the streets were his home, but he was alive. It’ll take years of people committed to ending the cycle of poverty for him to think otherwise.
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