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Think about where you and your friends would be if you had been born in an average African village. I did this, not with everyone I know but just my close friends:
One of us would be dead.
One of us would be blind.
Most of us would have at least one dead parent.
None of us would have gone to university, and very few of us would even have gone to secondary school.
I wouldn't have glasses or contact lenses, so I would spend all day bumping into stuff.
We wouldn't have had choices. No gap years. No trying out half a dozen different careers. Just farming.
We wouldn't have all the insignificant stuff that makes life fun. No huge record collections. No wardrobes full of clothes. No Half Life 2. No flashing our boobs in Greece.
And then there is the statistical stuff:
We would probably have had unprotected sex because condoms were either unavailable or too expensive, and so a few of us would have AIDS.
Some us would have lost siblings.
We probably wouldn't have a vote.
We might be malnourished.
We might have been hacked to death in a civil war.
My life, if I was lucky enough to still have one, would be utterly unrecognisable and frequently miserable. But little things might make a big difference. A water pump. A clinic. A nurse handing out condoms. A decent price for my crops. And that is why it makes me mad as hell when people say "But it would take billions and billions to solve those problems. You haven't got billions and billions so it's not worth trying."
I have a very, very small personal stake in this too. When I did my degree I spent four months in Ghana researching my dissertation. I loved it there, but I always knew that if something went wrong I could phone my mum and she'd buy me a plane ticket home. Now, if I can sort out the finances, I'd like to go back to university and back to Africa. But I know I'd be in for some nasty surprises. Some of the older people that helped me would probably be dead. Some of the kids that taught me a few words of the language would be gone. Some of the girls I tried to get into bed would be dying of AIDS. And that makes me very, very angry.
Everybody mouths platitudes about how nice it would be if Africa wasn't so poor but nobody, including me, does enough about it. There is something seriously wrong with a world where people still die of dysentery, hunger and the measles. We should be shouting about it from the rooftops and throwing politicians off a cliff for not doing anything about it.
There aren't enough words to describe how mad that all makes me, but that is the best I can come up with.
One of us would be dead.
One of us would be blind.
Most of us would have at least one dead parent.
None of us would have gone to university, and very few of us would even have gone to secondary school.
I wouldn't have glasses or contact lenses, so I would spend all day bumping into stuff.
We wouldn't have had choices. No gap years. No trying out half a dozen different careers. Just farming.
We wouldn't have all the insignificant stuff that makes life fun. No huge record collections. No wardrobes full of clothes. No Half Life 2. No flashing our boobs in Greece.
And then there is the statistical stuff:
We would probably have had unprotected sex because condoms were either unavailable or too expensive, and so a few of us would have AIDS.
Some us would have lost siblings.
We probably wouldn't have a vote.
We might be malnourished.
We might have been hacked to death in a civil war.
My life, if I was lucky enough to still have one, would be utterly unrecognisable and frequently miserable. But little things might make a big difference. A water pump. A clinic. A nurse handing out condoms. A decent price for my crops. And that is why it makes me mad as hell when people say "But it would take billions and billions to solve those problems. You haven't got billions and billions so it's not worth trying."
I have a very, very small personal stake in this too. When I did my degree I spent four months in Ghana researching my dissertation. I loved it there, but I always knew that if something went wrong I could phone my mum and she'd buy me a plane ticket home. Now, if I can sort out the finances, I'd like to go back to university and back to Africa. But I know I'd be in for some nasty surprises. Some of the older people that helped me would probably be dead. Some of the kids that taught me a few words of the language would be gone. Some of the girls I tried to get into bed would be dying of AIDS. And that makes me very, very angry.
Everybody mouths platitudes about how nice it would be if Africa wasn't so poor but nobody, including me, does enough about it. There is something seriously wrong with a world where people still die of dysentery, hunger and the measles. We should be shouting about it from the rooftops and throwing politicians off a cliff for not doing anything about it.
There aren't enough words to describe how mad that all makes me, but that is the best I can come up with.
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What I mean is, the whole ethos of giving loans to be repayed rather than aid seems somehow wrong.
And would you mind giving examples of loans being used to invade neighbours? I'm not accusing you of lying here, I just wouldn't mind some examples.
And would you mind giving examples of loans being used to invade neighbours? I'm not accusing you of lying here, I just wouldn't mind some examples.
Not since most of the debts were written off, no. And if they'd spent the money wisely like we told them to rather than using it to invade their neighbours, then they wouldn't be suffering nearly as much as they are.
Isn't the notion of loans over grants part of this problem?
Throw politicians off cliffs for not doing anything about it? But the whole civilised world has been pumping money into third world nations for decades!
In fact, people complain when the government announces it is increasing the amount of aid it sends.
There is a point worth noting, and that's that you can't save everybody. Certainly no one nation can save the world, regardless of the countless billions that have been spent trying. We gave them aid and we gave them loans, they hoard the aid and use the loans to buy guns.
It's a lot more complicated than you think trying to help people, and if you think people aren't trying then you're a fool.
In fact, people complain when the government announces it is increasing the amount of aid it sends.
There is a point worth noting, and that's that you can't save everybody. Certainly no one nation can save the world, regardless of the countless billions that have been spent trying. We gave them aid and we gave them loans, they hoard the aid and use the loans to buy guns.
It's a lot more complicated than you think trying to help people, and if you think people aren't trying then you're a fool.
The often sad thing is with us is that we forget the plight of people like those you mention, except once every few years when Comic Relief comes along then everyone suddenly gains a conscience and gives a few pounds to make themselves feel better.
What makes me sad is the fact that so many people in well-off countries like ours have good living conditions, have good health and can make their own choices as to how well they live their lives. Yet many seem content to ruin their lives and others by being terrible human beings.
Many people don’t have such luxuries, with illness and diseases forcing them to live poorly and die at young ages, and there’s nothing they can do about it. They don’t have a shot at life, yet so many do but they waste it. That’s what angers me.
It’s like what I tell my younger sister. She doesn’t eat much, and tends to leave lots of her food each mealtime. I explain to her how lucky she is as she has this food readily available to her on her plate, yet many children die each second from having no food and have to settle for drinking muddy diseased-ridden water from manky rivers.
It’s about appreciating what we have and how lucky we are, and people lose sight or just don’t think about that. We’re happy in our own materialistic world we create, with material goods, crap TV, pampered celebrities etc, but what’s really important is what is happening out there in the real world.
Industry fat cats get millions of pounds bonuses each year and celebrities get paid millions for doing bugg£r-all, yet children die from having no food and simple medical treatment elsewhere in the world. Still, that’s the world we’ve made for ourselves I guess.
What makes me sad is the fact that so many people in well-off countries like ours have good living conditions, have good health and can make their own choices as to how well they live their lives. Yet many seem content to ruin their lives and others by being terrible human beings.
Many people don’t have such luxuries, with illness and diseases forcing them to live poorly and die at young ages, and there’s nothing they can do about it. They don’t have a shot at life, yet so many do but they waste it. That’s what angers me.
It’s like what I tell my younger sister. She doesn’t eat much, and tends to leave lots of her food each mealtime. I explain to her how lucky she is as she has this food readily available to her on her plate, yet many children die each second from having no food and have to settle for drinking muddy diseased-ridden water from manky rivers.
It’s about appreciating what we have and how lucky we are, and people lose sight or just don’t think about that. We’re happy in our own materialistic world we create, with material goods, crap TV, pampered celebrities etc, but what’s really important is what is happening out there in the real world.
Industry fat cats get millions of pounds bonuses each year and celebrities get paid millions for doing bugg£r-all, yet children die from having no food and simple medical treatment elsewhere in the world. Still, that’s the world we’ve made for ourselves I guess.
Think about where you and your friends would be if you had been born in an average African village. I did this, not with everyone I know but just my close friends:
One of us would be dead.
One of us would be blind.
Most of us would have at least one dead parent.
None of us would have gone to university, and very few of us would even have gone to secondary school.
I wouldn't have glasses or contact lenses, so I would spend all day bumping into stuff.
We wouldn't have had choices. No gap years. No trying out half a dozen different careers. Just farming.
We wouldn't have all the insignificant stuff that makes life fun. No huge record collections. No wardrobes full of clothes. No Half Life 2. No flashing our boobs in Greece.
And then there is the statistical stuff:
We would probably have had unprotected sex because condoms were either unavailable or too expensive, and so a few of us would have AIDS.
Some us would have lost siblings.
We probably wouldn't have a vote.
We might be malnourished.
We might have been hacked to death in a civil war.
My life, if I was lucky enough to still have one, would be utterly unrecognisable and frequently miserable. But little things might make a big difference. A water pump. A clinic. A nurse handing out condoms. A decent price for my crops. And that is why it makes me mad as hell when people say "But it would take billions and billions to solve those problems. You haven't got billions and billions so it's not worth trying."
I have a very, very small personal stake in this too. When I did my degree I spent four months in Ghana researching my dissertation. I loved it there, but I always knew that if something went wrong I could phone my mum and she'd buy me a plane ticket home. Now, if I can sort out the finances, I'd like to go back to university and back to Africa. But I know I'd be in for some nasty surprises. Some of the older people that helped me would probably be dead. Some of the kids that taught me a few words of the language would be gone. Some of the girls I tried to get into bed would be dying of AIDS. And that makes me very, very angry.
Everybody mouths platitudes about how nice it would be if Africa wasn't so poor but nobody, including me, does enough about it. There is something seriously wrong with a world where people still die of dysentery, hunger and the measles. We should be shouting about it from the rooftops and throwing politicians off a cliff for not doing anything about it.
There aren't enough words to describe how mad that all makes me, but that is the best I can come up with.
One of us would be dead.
One of us would be blind.
Most of us would have at least one dead parent.
None of us would have gone to university, and very few of us would even have gone to secondary school.
I wouldn't have glasses or contact lenses, so I would spend all day bumping into stuff.
We wouldn't have had choices. No gap years. No trying out half a dozen different careers. Just farming.
We wouldn't have all the insignificant stuff that makes life fun. No huge record collections. No wardrobes full of clothes. No Half Life 2. No flashing our boobs in Greece.
And then there is the statistical stuff:
We would probably have had unprotected sex because condoms were either unavailable or too expensive, and so a few of us would have AIDS.
Some us would have lost siblings.
We probably wouldn't have a vote.
We might be malnourished.
We might have been hacked to death in a civil war.
My life, if I was lucky enough to still have one, would be utterly unrecognisable and frequently miserable. But little things might make a big difference. A water pump. A clinic. A nurse handing out condoms. A decent price for my crops. And that is why it makes me mad as hell when people say "But it would take billions and billions to solve those problems. You haven't got billions and billions so it's not worth trying."
I have a very, very small personal stake in this too. When I did my degree I spent four months in Ghana researching my dissertation. I loved it there, but I always knew that if something went wrong I could phone my mum and she'd buy me a plane ticket home. Now, if I can sort out the finances, I'd like to go back to university and back to Africa. But I know I'd be in for some nasty surprises. Some of the older people that helped me would probably be dead. Some of the kids that taught me a few words of the language would be gone. Some of the girls I tried to get into bed would be dying of AIDS. And that makes me very, very angry.
Everybody mouths platitudes about how nice it would be if Africa wasn't so poor but nobody, including me, does enough about it. There is something seriously wrong with a world where people still die of dysentery, hunger and the measles. We should be shouting about it from the rooftops and throwing politicians off a cliff for not doing anything about it.
There aren't enough words to describe how mad that all makes me, but that is the best I can come up with.
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