Kabanda’s Musings : Fundraising funds to buy a nation

Happy may be the people who do not go to bars but I say happy are those who go there. Once in a while when My Dearest Datiliva wants to propose something new she will order me to a drinking joint, order on my behalf, propose something new and order me to pay the bills before dragging me home. Recently she instructed me to accompany her to a joint and like fate would have it, there were many wedding preparatory meetings going on so we were advised to sit in a part of the “garden” which was starved of light. The owners and management believe their’s is a classy restaurant yet they have been impervious to RDB’s customer care campaign. We braved mosquitoes and dim light for thirty minutes before a waiter decided to attend to us. We made our orders and he disappeared for an hour before he surfaced with a tray on which he carried a small tin containing salt and another toothpicks. After another 40 minutes he appeared again delivering a tube containing red pepper on a woven tray and disappeared again. After two hours of waiting and losing appetite in the process, we were invited by a group of patrons seated across the footpath, to join them. We found, to my disappointment and my Dearest’s delight, that the group was discussing the recently concluded Presidential elections in Rwanda. I dislike politics and when the topics of discussion veer in that direction I concentrate on the glass in-front of me and its contents or end up a silent spectator. Datiliva dived into the debate headfirst. The debate seemed to be to what extent foreigners should tell Rwandans what and how to do it. There was one group that argued that Bazungu have more experience and knowledge and therefore must guide inexperienced Rwandans more so if they give us their taxpayers’ money that fund our development. Another group argued that donations should supplement our efforts and should not be used to decide for and on our behalf. “Donors commit our money to our development and therefore have a right to determine how their electorates’ money is spent and the environment in which it is spent,” said my Dearest. “Donors use taxes collected from their constituents and therefore they have a right to demand that countries that receive their donations live up to certain standards....” “Whose standards and who sets those standards?” asked a bespectacled gentleman whose accent smelled something foreign. “There are standards that are universally accepted as democratic and are expected of nations,” said my Dearest looking at me for approval and appreciation. I am not interested in such things; for example why would donations cause problems. It is comparable to one giving alms and deciding what the recipient should buy with it. “Would you give alms and decide that it is not used for purchase of booze?” I asked a lady who might have been as bored as I was. “I might not but a ‘savedee’ may be offended if she found out that the alms she gave away were used to buy alcohol,” said the lady. “But a decent beggar may reject alms if s/he was told to strictly use it on purchase of alcohol,” interjected a man at the far end of the table. A man who had spent all the time ogling at my Dearest making me to shift in my chair uncomfortably cleared his throat and asked; “Doesn’t the Dutch Ambassador in Rwanda have a right to demand explanations from the government of Rwanda on the past elections? His country gives Rwanda 45 million Euros every year...” he said waving a print out from a report by the Africa department of Radio Netherlands Worldwide. Many people moved closer to see the paper but I used the opportunity to size-up the man who was ogling my Dearest to my discomfort and decide on whether to fight or flee in case he came a bit too close to her. “There is no way a country can give out that amount of money and not demand that the recipient does certain things,” said the man as he leaned back on the plastic chair after handing over the piece of paper. The man looked well fed, agile and I think too muscled for my liking but whatever happened I would not let go of my Datiliva without a fight; irrespective of the size of the fight. It was then that I realised that someone was waving a piece of paper in-front of me. It was the print out from Radio Netherlands Worldwide. In the interview by Sophie van Leeuwen, she was quoted as asking, “Is the Dutch aid to Rwanda of 45 million Euros per year in danger?” to which H.E. Frans Makken, Ambassador of the Netherlands in Rwanda responded, “The Dutch government must decide this fall whether general budget support to Rwanda will be resumed. It goes without saying that the conduct of the presidential election and the human rights situation in Rwanda will be taken into consideration... Obviously, it is possible that a new Dutch government implement changes in their policy on development aid in general and for Rwanda in particular.” Somewhere the Ambassador was quoted as saying, “While the election victory of incumbent President Paul Kagame in all likelihood reflects the will of the people of Rwanda, the Netherlands intend, in concert with other donor countries, to ask the Rwandan government for explanations about the irregularities found.” “Do you think that because some people give our country 45 million Euros every year, they can decide on our behalf? Is that so?” asked a man seated on my right while poking my shoulder. I was not sure what I had said prior to his question and was not sure how to answer him. “Yes”, I said, “€45 million a year is a lot of money, by any standard”. The man stood up and I thought he was going to punch me but he simply gestured to others to keep quiet. “Do you believe that if we collected €45 million a year and gave it to the Dutch we would tell them what to do and if they did not ask explanations from them as if we were some school Headmaster? Can we people of Rwanda give the Dutch the same amount of Euros, breed a neo-Nazi and demand that he/she stands in elections or else we withdraw our support? Can we after donating the said amount tell the Dutch to nationalise their economy, declare a Republic and abolish the kingdom, ban prostitution and drug use and most especially ban homosexuality in their country? Is €45 million our worth as a nation?” Everyone laughed save for my dearest and I; I did not know why people laughed while she wanted to make an argument. “The arrogance of these people stinks to the high heavens!” said the man, “do you know the Dutch Police have threatened to arrest the former and newly elected president of Suriname, Desi Bouterse after convicting him in absentia for drug trafficking and yet every drug is freely sold in their country? It is arrogance that drives these people. Join me then and we raise €45 million and buy their country with donations so that we can ask explanations from them.” Arrogance of people some thousands of miles away was more bearable than that of the waiters and waitresses at the restaurant. Besides €45 million did not seem as astronomical as the tens of thousands of Francs I was about to pay at the counter. I politely requested my Dearest to go home but she seemed gearing up for more arguments and I, in frustration, ordered another beer as I sat through another prolonged round of arguments and counter arguments. Email: ekaba2002@yahoo.com