First and foremost, I hope everyone has been keeping safe through these difficult times! While the COVID pandemic has exposed colossal systemic vulnerabilities, I sincerely hope we can continue practicing compassion and empathy to collectively move forward. Please reach out if I can be of any assistance.

Now on to the blog post…

After spending a little over 2 years in M&E (monitoring and evaluation) practice in different parts of Africa, I moved to Geneva last fall to commence my doctoral degree. This move felt akin to starting a new chapter in my life, not just geographically, but also emotionally and intellectually. I was no longer surrounded by a group of friendly aid workers who understood the thrills of having one extra hour of electricity or finding that one new item in the market which made you feel a little closer to home. When in the “field” (which is a problematic term in itself, but we’ll get to that another time), the lifeworld of aid workers and the collective goal of creating incremental change through one’s work brings them together.

But getting out of the “aid world” and re-integrating into a western, academic setting poses some unexpected challenges. On the emotional front, I think a lot of it comes down to how my own identity has evolved over time. In hindsight, I feel that the 2 years I spent working and travelling in Africa were a deeply transformative part of my life. My confidence grew multifold, I learnt to seek comfort in starkly different places, confronted tough questions about my own privilege, learnt a great deal about my mental health and saw the world through a slightly different lens. But verbalizing all of this and more becomes difficult. For starters, I’m never sure if the listener is interested or even cares about any of this. While some take profound interest in my experiences, for others, it is a simply another data point. Afterall, there is no incentive to take a particular interest in what happens in a rather ignored part of the world or a person who chooses to spend time there….

On the intellectual front, it has been interesting to channelize work experience to develop a research topic. Essentially, academia values practical experiences in so far you can use them to answer a “puzzle”. However, the process of putting together these puzzle pieces seems to prioritize literature and theories over real-world experience, which I find quite unsettling. For instance, for every research idea that I pitch to academics which is rooted in past experiences, I am recommended literature to read. While I love reading, it has been frustrating on two levels. One, I never seem to know enough about the literature, philosophers or concepts, which makes me feel like I’m speaking some parochial language of the commoners. Two, while I have deep respect for academics, I am disillusioned by how they take a brazen approach of operating within their privileged and astute siloes without considering policy impact or the real world. Also, the high entry barrier in academia (in terms of knowing jargons, networking and learning to name-drop philosophers or concepts) often makes one feel like practical experiences have little value in this space. 

While foraying from practice to patios has been slightly challenging, it has also been rewarding. Afterall, the world needs more generalists who can shuttle between the worlds of academia and practice and mesh the best of both to create meaningful change….

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I’m 24, Indian, relatively privileged and a proud feminist. On women’s day, after tuning in to a panel on gender equality in India, I couldn’t help but reflect why the discussion left me so unsettled. Feminism has meant different things to me in every juncture of life. While studying, it was a prism to reflect on my younger self and confront problematic thoughts and the structures which perpetuated them. While working in the humanitarian sector, it was a lens to defy the narrative of elites and understand power at its core. Now as a doctoral student, I can question who creates the knowledge we know, for who, and how it is gendered.  

While we have made some progress in terms of right to work, vote and equal pay, I feel unsettled because I (and perhaps several other women) constantly negotiate between working towards the lofty ideals while giving in to the “practical”. Reflecting back, there are times when I have called people out for distasteful jokes on women, while simultaneously not contradicting close family members who perpetuate gender roles or even participating in highly gendered rituals. As a champion of women uplifting other women, I’m also guilty of feeling proud as the sole woman on the table. There are countless examples like these. I wonder if in this constant process of picking one’s battles and negotiating the “practical”, we are diluting the ideals we work towards. Afterall, why do some practical concerns such as job security, respecting cultural boundaries or personal relations have to be at odds with feminist goals and why is it that women are having to negotiate them constantly?  

In our fuzzy middle ground where we pick and choose our battles while working towards the goals of equality, I wonder who this middle ground caters to, whose story does it tell and how. For instance, is ours a middle ground that will treat men who help in care-giving as the laudable “exceptions” OR will it normalize burden sharing and simply denounce men who don’t participate? How will our middle ground be inclusive of women like me who are constantly dawdling between their sometimes incompatible cultural identity and feminist values?

These questions have no straightforward answer. But I’m concerned that a collective response which is split on these critical issues could weaken the progress. As we step into a far more complex world with colossal technological change, clash of cultures and a rapidly shifting political climate, these omnipresent gender-role negotiations will only become more pronounced.

So what do we do about this, you may ask. For the men, it might be worthwhile to step back and introspect on what these everyday negotiations look like for women at your workplace, university and/or home and how can you can become better allies. As for the women, acknowledging these trade-offs and reflecting why we each choose certain everyday battles over others will shed light on our own priorities, vision and even biases.

The recent heart wrenching stories of George Floyd and Amy Cooper made its way to our dinner table conversation in South Sudan. My African-American colleagues shed light on how the systemic racism was not simply institutionalized in the justice and policing systems in the US, but impacted their lives in undeniable ways. From here, the conversation took a rather unexpected turn as a South Sudanese friend recounted her experience of studying in Mumbai as an undergraduate student and facing similar challenges for her skin color as she did in the US. From being name-called for her darker skin tone to receiving unwarranted advances and being stereotyped, I realized how racism isn’t just a black and white issue. There’s many more shades in between…

I dug further only to find a whole host of articles which explained the gravity of this issue in the Indian context. According to the Association of African Students in India (AASI), about 25,000 Africans study in Indian universities, drawn by their high academic standards, low fees and the use of English language as the medium of instruction. Nigeria sends the highest numbers to India, followed by Sudan and Kenya. A majority of them have reported racial discrimination, profiling and stereotyping. They are often presumed to be drug peddlers, burglars or even prostitutes, as some students report.

But these reports were only helping weave a story around what I had seen and observed. Even when I was back home in India during my breaks from working in Africa, people’s concerns for my safety and well-being were often laced with inadvertent bias. Questions like “is there proper food there?”, “are the local people safe?”, “can you walk around by yourself?” often come from a position of worry and concern, but also that of power. Africa is what most Indians would consider “poor”, “underdeveloped” and “risky”. Whether or not we acknowledge it, there is often a hidden preconception of economic, social and cultural superiority, that has been internalized.

72 years after our independence, we are far from overcoming colorism which is deeply rooted in our colonial past and the caste system. Cosmetics industry players make millions in India convincing men and women that white skin is what makes you attractive and successful. Growing up, kids are told not to play in the sun for too long for the fear of a tan. Our films mostly feature artists whose skin tones are rarely representative of the larger population. This worrying belief is evident everywhere we look.

To me, this feels strange. If anything, shouldn’t Indians (or more broadly the Asian world) be empathizing with Africa on issues of race, given our shared struggles as a former colony? I think the apathy lies in our simplistic understanding of race and privilege. The spectrum is not as simple as whites on one end and blacks on the other. There are many shades in the middle… shades of brown, if you will (the Asians, Latinos and so on…). While they do not enjoy the privileges of being a white person and are definitely victims of racism, their experiences may not necessarily be as heavy as that of a black person in this post-colonial world order. This gradation of color has led to a perception that being brown is better than black, and has placed the “in-betweens” in a confusing situation of balancing their newfound privilege over African races while simultaneously fighting discrimination from the so-called “superior” races.

This is all to say that if we want to fight institutionalized racism, we need to look within to confront our predispositions, even as a person of color. Yes, systemic change is paramount, but so is understanding our individual role in it. We cannot perpetuate biases against others, while also trying to fight the same biases when they take place against us.

Whether you’re white, black, brown or anything in between…why is it so hard to treat all colors the same?

48 hours. That’s the amount of time I had to find a plane ticket from Juba to Freetown. The Sierra Leonean government had made a rather sudden decision to close their borders and ban air travel altogether, giving travelers a notice of 2 days. There were rumors that South Sudan would be following suit. Soon enough, Juba officially shut its airport 3 days later, joining the list of African countries in doing so. For 2 countries (South Sudan and Sierra Leone) that have no official COVID 19 cases until now, I was rather stunned by the flurry of measures. But perhaps that is the secret ingredient.

As of today, the continent has recorded 1,400 cases across 43 countries, meaning 11 African countries remain virus-free. Out of this 1,400, bulk of the cases are accounted by 3 countries: South Africa (554), Egypt (366) and Algeria (201). This means that the remaining 40 countries in Africa have merely 279 cases at the moment. Compare this to the United States that is dealing with 35,000 cases or Italy with 64,000 cases.

 But this all seems very counter-intuitive. On a regular day, 8 direct flights operate between China and African nations (and not to mention countless others through transits in Addis Ababa or Nairobi). Given the amount of Chinese influence across Africa, why wasn’t COVID 19 exported here first? Or given the largely fragile public health system across the continent, why isn’t the virus cruising at lightning speed causing irreparable damage like Ebola did? The answer lies in “containment”.

Africa certainly got a head-start in this pandemic. But the head-start means nothing if there is inertia or inaction. It was understood early on that air-travel is one of the biggest avenues for transmission. As soon cases were detected, countries like Kenya admirably chose to shut down their airports, not just from COVID hotspots but from across the world, making exceptions just for Kenyan nationals. Even nationals who returned were forced to go through a mandatory 14-day quarantine period at hotels close to the airport. Now almost all countries in Africa have followed suit. Note that this is very different from “self-quarantine” which is being adopted by Western nations whereby the individual’s sense of moral responsibility could determine if someone else gets infected or not.

Apart from forced quarantine, an attitude of risk aversion was becoming evident as flights and passengers were being turned back. In Juba, for instance, a flight carrying passengers from Addis Ababa was turned back after it landed as the South Sudanese government did not want to risk any infections (Ethiopia at that point had less than 5 cases). Similarly, prior to the airport shutdown, 4 Japanese nationals boarded a flight from Monrovia to Freetown. Liberian authorities had seen one of them displaying symptoms and had alerted airport authorities in Freetown. Upon landing, the 4 passengers were sent back in the same aircraft while the remaining passengers were forced into 14-day quarantine at government-mandated facility near the airport.

Apart from restricting air travel, other measures have been put in place. Schools have been shut, public and religious gatherings are being regulated. Wherever possible, offices, supermarkets and housing compounds have sanitizer dispensers and hand washing facilities that every person is required to use before entering.

But not all is hunky dory. Powerful people (mostly high ranking government officials) are exploiting the loopholes within the system to gain waivers from mandatory quarantine after travelling to hotspots and later test positive for COVID (Cameroon is a case in point). Such individuals can singlehandedly nullify all the containment efforts.

This is all to say that every case counts here. Perhaps this sense of urgency comes from a dismal realization that even the most advanced healthcare systems like that of Spain and Italy are collapsing from COVID. Should the virus hit this continent with the same vigor, the consequences will be nothing short of disastrous. There are other considerations as well. From a cultural standpoint, social distancing would be extremely difficult to implement once things escalate. From an economic standpoint, aid cannot be expected from the usual donors as they are dealing with their own national crises.

With these complex considerations at play, there is only one solution: prevention. The petrifying consequence of what would happen if prevention fails or is failed by powerful individuals with poor judgement is yet to be known. But after this crisis passes, there is a lesson or two that the world needs to learn from Africa’s playbook about containment in early stages of a pandemic.

Until then, I hope everyone is staying safe wherever they are, washing their hands and staying calm! After my botched travel plans, I’m going about life in Juba armed with hand-wash and hope.