Tall Pygmies

Yesterday we took a boat to a supposed Pygmy village on Lake Bunyoni. I say supposed, because when we got there, the people just seemed a little on the short side, but nowhere near the stunted phenomenon I had secretly been hoping for. Yes, I am a terrible person.

It was a weird excursion.

First of all, is it wrong to pay to go on what is essentially a human safari? And are the Pygmies participating in what my friend calls "Cultural Prostitution"? I don't know. I'd like to think that I'm helping them out by contributing to their economy, but I think they do it more out of desperation than any desire to chit chat with the Muzungus (whiteys).

When we arrived, we were immediately swamped by about 50 children. They fought to hold onto any available hand. "What's your name?" they ask. That's pretty much all the English they know other than, "Give me money." Or, "Give me coat." Or "Give me pen." It was pretty unsettling. And they were so desperately poor and dirty that I really did want to give them everything I had. But once you reach for your pocket, it's like a swarm of locusts.

Anyway, they showed us their traditional dances and sang some songs for us, and that was about the extent of the visit other than another long walk back to the boat with more "Gimmes" each step of the way. As we were pushing off, I looked back to see some of the kids still smiling and waving, while others were spitting, and one even went so far as to throw a clump of dirt. Again, unsettling.

At the end of the day, I don't know if we were doing more harm than good by being there. What I got from it more than anything, was that Africa--especially remote, rural Africa--is in desperate need of family planning. There are so many children and so little for them expect from life--it's like they all just get lost in the shuffle. It's so depressing, it would make me want to throw a clump of dirt at the rich Muzungus, too.