devils in trinidad

{Lisa}

I had always thought that the worst you could do when confronted with a request for help from another was nothing. But, over the past four weeks, I’ve learned there is indeed a far worse response—it is perhaps precisely the response I have been giving—the sprinkling of false hope.

Whenever I am asked what I am doing in Trinidad or what the purpose of these interviews my colleague and I have been conducting is, I fumble for an answer. I wish I could say that perhaps a municipal government official would glance over my final report or that they will be published in some way. But instead, I try to tell the truth without actually giving an answer: “They will be compiled into a report,” I often reply. “But what is the report for?” My confused interviewers ask. “They just want a report,” I say, not even certain myself who “they” are. Sometimes, my site supervisor, if she is there, will answer the questions for me, saying that the reports will be given to DukeEngage and that the program will decide what to do, whether that means sending in students from environmental science programs next year to perform air quality tests or giving her and others a mandate to continue with the action plans we propose.

I can’t see the future, but I can see when eyes light up, and I can hear the murmur of hope in the community. Hope is powerful, but perhaps false hope is more powerful; it breeds cynicism, distrust and hate when a bright future built on words is dimmed by reality. My presence here, in this village, has caused either a substantial hope or a false hope, and while I hope it is the former, it is the grave possibility that it is the latter that fills me with dread and even anger.

As to what I have learned, my education has certainly broadened with my experience here, but perhaps not in the most positive of ways. I can now see that nothing is immune from the crafty clutches of the business mindset, where results are spurned for the appearance of results. Reports and photos are indeed effective, but only for the ends of publicity and rarely as actions in themselves. I have often wondered why photos should ever matter, because they offer not solace to the subject of the photo; instead, they are for display to some other unknown audience.

I think that is the crux of the development paradigm. Everyone seeks to exploit another because all seek power over the flow of financial resources commanded by a few. And I think we are willing to sacrifice our true goals to play this game, to put on whatever show or display we need to gain the resources we want. When money is involved, the end goal suddenly shifts; it is no longer for the greatest good for the greatest number, but rather a competition for resources. It is not a shift that is done with malice but rather practicality; after all, without resources, we cannot get the outcomes we seek. But such thinking is dangerous, as the pursuit of resources suddenly becomes the end instead of the means. And our true ends are forgotten, forsaken for mere shadow plays of these ends, conducted with film and words.

And so I wonder who I am today and who I was four weeks ago. I was someone who wanted to change the world and now I am someone who believes that it is the want of change that has corrupted so many. I was someone who believes that no illegitimate body could take away my freedom of choice and now I am someone who knows that there is very little choice and far less legitimacy in this world. I was someone who saw her own spirit and commitment to the service of others as unbreakable and now I am someone who knows quite well that it is actually quite easy to crush the spirit and good will of the young and naive.