Therefore, if you are going to go and do some humanitarian sexy, make sure your sexy does more sexy for them, than it does sexy for you. (Andy Rayner. The Elevation Of Humanitarian Sexiness)
People have this romantic idea of Humanitarian work… and right now international work of any kind is à la mode. It is just too sexy for the sexy to stay put. But is our sexy, sexy enough? Ya, heard this song on the radio, and now it is stuck in my head:
I’m too sexy for my shirt
Too sexy for my shirt
So sexy it hurts…
I’m too sexy for this song
(Band – Right Said Fred. I’m To Sexy)
There are those moments when we are shaking hands, chatting, laughing, speaking, listening, and generally enjoying the flocks of local people our job enables us to encounter. Most folks appreciate us, others wish we would leave their village (westerns can’t fathom it, but it’s true), because,
“This village is just way too sexy for this western NGO.”
Community development work is about change and change can be perceived as sexy, or too sexy…
It is rewarding work, but challenging, culturally, linguistically, socially, physically, and let’s toss emotionally in there as well.
In Mali, I have seen temps reach 49 Celsius in the shade, but each day requires me working in the direct sun where it is always 45 +, regardless of the shade thermometer reading.
Mali is a real physical challenge for sexy me. I am a sexy fat, sexy red headed, sexy fair freckled skin, cool temperature loving SEXY Canadian, from an island in the sexy sea.
However, I am here in land locked Mali’s sexy sun, and this adds up to copious amounts of sunburn, heat exhaustion, muscle cramps, and that daily sexy undulating general need to vomit most afternoons, which I fight back successfully most days. I am out there digging, bending, running drip lines, seeding, explaining drip irrigation and garden techniques in full hot sun, and my body is not wired well for the heat. Since learning proper sexy hydration with sexy oral salts, and doggedly drinking, and drinking, and…… the seriously sexy muscle cramps have greatly diminished, but not the heat sickness and headaches.
A person once asked me how I could handle being a little sexy sick every day like this. I explained to them what it was like to grow up in a sexy commercial fishing family, and how, at the age of nine, my summers consisted of working on the sexy fishing boat, while seasick almost every day for the first four years. Sick or not, we sexy fishing deck hands still worked, because the job requires all hands on deck… No real fisherman sleeps it off in a bunk. It’s a VERY SEXY life skill to keep working immediately before, and after retching your guts out, it qualifies you well for working in sexy places like Mali. That is how some of us come to be such sexy humanitarians.
Something about sexy Africa that causes us to wear our love and emotions on our sleeves, cheered on by the great beauty, good, pain, hardship, joy, vitality and tragedy we see every single freaking sexy day.
Africa is a land of sexy extremes. Sexy high-highs, and sexy low-lows. You shift from one to the other simply by turning your body, the orientation of your head, or merely by modifying the focused gaze of your eyes. Both realities seem to be all around us at any given moment.
Amazing people trying to live sexy lives, just like we do. Mali is not all about poverty, sickness, disease, and suffering. There is a hopeful vibrancy and innate sexiness in people and life here.
Around the internet these days, it is common to read Pro-Africa articles, from either affluent Africans, or insulated expats, who write something like,
“Africa is not all poverty, disease, sickness, and filth….it also is….. .”
I agree, it isn’t. I have never met a person who actually thought this anyway. But, without moving my feet, no matter where I stand among local people, I see all four of these realities, 24/7, just by turning my head.
But sexy Johannesburg, Nairobi and Addis Ababa are nothing like the life of Malians (except for the well hidden slums), nor is the sexy poverty level the same there, as here. 95% freaking percent live on $2 a day or less…. It’s not all about poverty…. but the affects of poverty touches most peoples sexy lives every sexy day here. Our region is not as sexy as cities like Abidjan, Accra, or Cape Town.
Make no mistake about it, life is on the edge of sexiness for many here. We sexy expats and very sexy affluent Africans often grow numb (among the most arrogant and heartless people I’ve ever met, some affluent West Africans are high in the list) to how on the sexy edge many are. Most of us retreat to our sexy western style homes, refrigerator, sexy western eating habits, very sexy expat restaurants, hospitals and schools. While, a sickness requiring simple antibiotics, or a bug infestation taking a small section of a crop, is a very sexy financial dilemma, not easily resolved or recovered from.
They ALL eat alarmingly little around here. So forgive me if I speak about the sexiness of malnutrition. At some point, I’ve bought medicine for every single personal friend I have in Mali (Or one of their children). While doing a sexy visit, I’d see one of them slumped over in a chair, hopping to get better without sexy medicine, because it’s a choice, sexy food for the ten others in the family today, or sexy medicine for that one sick one. Malians are sexy awesome at sexy money and sexy math computations.
Sorry, their reality is too sexy, just way too sexy, to be the “real Africa.”.
Africa is too sexy for this poverty
Too sexy for this poverty
West Africa is too sexy for drip irrigation
Too sexy for drip Irrigation
Mali is too Sexy for this NGO
Too sexy for this NGO
Just way too sexy.
I’m too sexy for this Job
Too sexy for this job
Just way too sexy.
International trips are sexy, way too sexy.
Therefore, if you are going to go and do some sexy, make sure your sexy does more sexy for them, than it does sexy for you. (Please Quote Me On That)
Sometimes our two week sexy is TOO sexy to work, last, or bring about the habit change.
About as sexy as it gets for me is the picture above…