Arkotong Longkumer
I am pushed against the mass of people as they gather to start the Make Poverty History March. Church banners signalling emblems of repentance juxtaposed with the hammer and sickle: two emblems, one cause. The raucous bustle is deliberate, heralding a sense of togetherness between these disparate groups. Loud drums create a Rastafarian prophecy as dreadlocks entangle with the grass and beer: children running, intellectuals weighing the various possibilities of a fairer world, older people reminiscing about their past lives in contrast to how the present generation is dealing with theirs. While the air is gently suffused with the voice of Bob Marley emanating from a corner tree, where a band of tattooed misfits, urge listeners to “emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none others but ourselves can free our minds”. I am jolted by the very physicality of their eagerness to be here which awakens my sense of keenness again.
As the march got underway, I remember walking past a Thai restaurant in the middle of Edinburgh, and noticing a line of petite Thai waitresses in their traditional dress peering through the window in anxious anticipation. It wasn’t a look of exasperation or confusion; it seemed as if they were amused and giddy with excitement as they witnessed the throngs of people marching under numerous banners: Make Poverty History, Anti-Bush, Anti-war, Fair Trade Rules, Climate Change, Red Banners of the Socialist, Anarchists, all under the blazing July sun. The Thai women were entrenched in their tiny restaurant; a scene that could be from a documentary film. The dust settles as the shot rotates towards the large window: the sheen on the glass refracts the glint from their faces—creating a panoramic view of their unwilling familiar seriousness. It seemed as if this is a scene all too familiar in some countries where the poor live on the streets. It is just the placement that is different: the poor are not out in the streets protesting, the rich are doing it for them.
Protests, such as these, were largely meant for the G8 countries (non-G8 countries must have had them too) which attempted to illuminate a sense of desperation for the African continent, somehow giving a sense of moral accountability to the way rich countries benefit from the poorer ones. As a friend reminded me from the pulpit, ‘these protests create an awareness that is meant to unsettle us, make us feel uncomfortable and perhaps help us influence our choices: what to buy, what to eat, what to wear, how to vote, how to voice our concerns for the beliefs we hold dear in a democratic and peaceful way’.
But this is not a debate about who is right or not; it is a debate about how the wrong must be righted. We all acknowledge that systemic poverty is part and parcel of impractical international policies, corrupt politicians, broken infrastructure of governments, biased religious objectives, ineffective Aid—the list goes on. To concentrate on global issues is too gigantic a task to understand (how do we explain to a farmer in Africa that billions of pounds of protective subsidies ensure that European products flood into their local markets while import tariffs are so prohibitive that access to European markets is never a possibility for him?). Instead, let’s view poverty as an endemic problem, with the beginnings of a solution situated within the local context and its interacting factors on the local level.
I was talking to a girl from Scotland who is living and working in Nicaragua. She echoed the similar problems of which one is also used to seeing in Nagaland. Problems of indigenous rights, indigenous land, sustainable development and economic problems that arise when two world views clash: be it capitalist-socialist, western-indigenous, individual-communal, urban-agrarian—are all a part of the larger matrix that perhaps leads to the small - the people, the everyday poverty - being too easily lost in these larger debates. These global debates are not out in the streets, where most of the poor live, but in air-controlled offices that reek of disinfectants, where they talk of having cleaner air. Perhaps they should change their address and visit the streets more often. These “marches” become the form of bargaining, the shouting and demanding like the busy bazaar. Neither party realising that some of the people in developing countries never get to bargain, they only watch as incremental price hikes raise the cost of bread before their eyes.
The week was filled with anticipation, a lot of questions, early morning sessions, barrage of media snippets on Africa and massive advertisements that constantly reminded one of the “other” side of life. After all, poverty is a critical situation that can no longer be avoided (at least that is what the media impression attempted to create). Many critically minded people realise that poverty is just a part of the problem which is intertwined with the complexities of other issues such as HIV/AIDS, Fair Trade and educational reforms amongst others, while sections of the populace are encouraged in their naive thoughts that poverty could be eradicated in a week. Part of this mirage was created by the entertainment industry—the live 8 concerts—giving the public a certain sense of simplicity and ease—that the elimination of poverty was about mere sensibility and visual expression. This is the dichotomy: two worlds divided but seeming to come together in these mass sweaty rituals.
The question that I ask myself is: how do we benefit from these “awareness days” for the poorest countries? The answer to poverty cannot be short, but a long, complicated, determined fight that at times may seem hopeless. But there are some people out there who make conscious choices by being a part of these protests, from all walks of life, all around the world, which must be heartily acknowledged. Will they bring change to the poorer countries? Maybe. Soon? Perhaps not. Still the fight continues, and we should keep talking about these issues and make our small choices matter!
(The writer is pursuing studies on Culture and Religion from Edinburgh University, UK)
