Rachel's blog

I’d like to write an article on this blog but out of the millions of things I could write about, what am I going to choose?

I could always start with a piece of creative writing; what do I think would happen if Shaun the Sheep turned up in The Silence of the Lambs? What about a short story using the character of Lydia Bennet from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice?

How about a book review, or a review of a character from a particular novel? I’ve just finished reading North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell and could start expressing my opinions about either the book itself, or its main character Margaret Hale. Book reviews don’t have to be limited to pieces of fiction; writing about Alexandra Fuller’s Scribbling the Cat or David Starkey’s Monarchy are other possibilities.

I could also write about things I enjoy. I think crimson roses are absolutely beautiful and could put together a  1,000-word article on the different varieties. As I spent my childhood in Zambia, I could pen a piece on the current economic conditions under President Rupiah Banda, or the diversity of wildlife in the South Luangwa National Park.

Or how about something out of the ordinary: a long piece on the apricot, or the Cabbage White butterfly, or fibre-optic cables, or the Zambian company Africonnect or the global charity SOS Children’s Villages?

Life experiences is another category: my feelings on spending my eighth birthday in Australia, for example, or my university days in Norwich, my duties as a Red Cross first-aider, or my first day at secondary school.

So, after all that deliberation, what am I going to write about?

“Mum, what do you want for Christmas?”

“Nothing – I don’t need anything.”

Now what? Ah, how about a ‘charity gift’: Buy a pig for £7 for a poor family in India, for example. Or some desks and chairs for a school in Botswana, a snip at £30.  In our materialistic society, many people feel they have everything they want – they don’t need more knick-knacks, clothes, bottles of wine. So why not let another person benefit from the money that you are going to spend on Mum anyway?

Charity gift catalogues become more popular each year. And the range of ‘gifts’ on offer is staggering. One can buy a beehive for a woman in Peru, to school shoes for children in Zambia, to counselling sessions for a teenager in Britain. The costs vary from an affordable £5 to a more extravagant £10,000. Take your pick – you choose whatever suits you. Maybe your wife is a nurse: Why not purchase basic first-aid kits for a clinic in rural Uganda? Or if you and your husband had a lovely holiday in Thailand, why not support children there? Part of the reason a charity gift is special is because it can be tailored to what the recipient is passionate about, or because it reminds them of a happy occasion. You know your money is going towards something that matters to them.

But is it? And actually, does it matter where the money goes?

Let me answer the second question first. If you are giving money to charity, do you want the money to go to where it is most needed? Imagine that 100 families in Nepal are in need of goats, and another 100 families in Kenya in need of cows. To date, 199 British donors have decided whether to buy goats or cows: So far, the tally stands at 149 goats and 50 cows. Fifty Kenyans are still in need of cows; the Nepalese are overrun with goats. Not knowing these statistics, you decide to give the gift of goats, as you have a personal connection with Nepal. But is this the best use of your money? And has it benefited the Nepalese in the way you hoped? The answer to both questions is no.

However, should charities need to use your money on something you didn’t intend (on cows instead of goats) they should make it very clear, before you donate, that this is a possibility.  The charity should mention this, in a prominent position, in the catalogue. Misguiding donors is not funny and it is not clever; working for a charity myself, I know how important it is to be up-front and honest with donors. Let the donors know they might be purchasing a cow over a goat; or, if charities know the donor has a real connection with Nepal, why can’t they offer them something else in Nepal, something outside of the catalogue, as an alternative? Donors have been generous enough to trust charities with their money; the least charities can do is be transparent in how they spend it.

Let me use examples.

Should you purchase a gift from Christian Aid’s ‘Present Aid‘ e-catalogue, the possibility that your money may be diverted towards other projects is not made prominent. It is smallprint, away from the homepage and the pages listing all the gifts:

“When you purchase a gift from Present Aid, you won’t actually receive a duck, or a bicycle or a well. Instead, your money will be used to fund related work that Christian Aid partners carry out. You (or the person you are buying the gift for) will receive a greetings card with information about the present. And on the behalf of the person who receives the card, the donation will be given to Christian Aid partners who are working hard to end poverty in communities overseas.”

Other charities are up-front about where your money will be spent. SOS Children’s Villages, who I work for, is an example:

By sending one of our alternative gifts, you can help us to provide children in The Gambia with a safe and secure childhood and a future. Your donations will go towards supporting the SOS Children’s Village Basse. The examples shown give an idea of the impact your gift will make: £7 could provide a child’s school fees and materials for one month; £15 could pay for one month’s transport to the SOS School for a child living in the local community

It clearly states that all money will be sent to Basse, but they are not promising that your £7 will go towards school expenses.

The majority of donors do not mind if their money is used for a different project other than the one they intended, as long as the possibility is clearly pointed out to them before they donate. Donors appreciate honesty, they do not appreciate backhandedness. Charities must trust donors to be sensible and understanding – otherwise the donors will go somewhere else next Christmas.

(Written on a flight from Zambia to the UK)

Limbo – that is what I am currently in. Not feeling much at all as I don’t know how I should be feeling. Flight travel is a form of limbo anyway as you aren’t anywhere specific. I’m not even sure of which country we’re flying over at the moment (Zambia? DRC?).

I’m in limbo, partly because I don’t know where I belong. I feel … nomadic – where is home? Which of the two countries I’ve lived in is home?

My identity is a bit skewed right now. If someone asked me where I’m from, what answer would I give them? “Well, I was born in the UK but grew up in Zambia and now live in the UK – my Mum is in the UK but my Dad is in Zambia.” When I land in the UK people will say “welcome home”: they’ll also say that when I land in Zambia.

Am I British? My passport says so. And my life is in the UK – my wonderful boyfriend, the house we share, my job, my Mum and sister, my friends, my hobbies. And my Dad some of the time. But there is this gnawing feeling – and it nags me. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy in the UK – it is where I have chosen to live and where I culturally “fit in”.

But one is shaped by one’s childhood. Eleven years in Zambia – a long time. I don’t want to ignore it or forget about it. And my Dad still lives there.

Do I want to live back in Zambia at any point? Take a new job? Living there would not be easy – being part of an expat community, and I’d have to learn the politics and culture from scratch. I’ve never lived in Zambia as an adult, only as a child, meaning my relationships with people have to alter.

Too many questions and too few answers. Maybe that is why I am in limbo.

But, one answer to the question “do you feel English or Zambian” could be “both”. And I’m proud of that. I think I’ve just invented a new word – “Zamglish”.

PS: we must be over the DRC by now …