Britain: you want to work abroad? Get some skills and learn some languages.

My mate Steve recently asked the question "Britain: Is it time to consider living, studying or working abroad?" With a stereotypically British response I say, perhaps.

For a start, I implore you, the British public, to get out of our wonderful rainy little island and explore the rest of the world. We, as a socio-economic entity, need to have a more outward facing view on the world. We cannot do this without people understanding the rest of the world's challenges. We must get rid of our eurosceptic government, our selfish Chancellor and become a driver for sustainable world change. We cannot do this unless a large part of Britain understands the rest of the world.

So in this respect I couldn't agree more and deeply regret not taking the opportunity to study abroad whether on a free Erasmus scheme as part of my degree or by taking a full degree over the puddle. Europe has excellent Universities and you can learn a second language while you're at it. You could even take up the opportunity to do an apprenticeship in another country like the two thousand or so young Brits apprenticing in Germany with Siemens and earn while you learn.

But to counter this, if you're studying an employable post graduate degree in the UK there are plenty of funding opportunities. The Panasonic Trust with the Royal Academy of Engineering, for instance, provide opportunity for £8,000 of funding for sustainable engineering MSc courses. I've found that if you put engineering/science, environment and sustainability in a funding application then people fall over themselves to hand you cash.

Then there's working in Europe and this is where it becomes more tricky. I've done it and know plenty of other linguistically challenged people working in certain hubs of Europe. I was in Geneva (Switzerland not Sweden, I'm astounded people really do get this wrong) where there are many businesses and international NGOs all working in English. The same can be said for Brussels and I've been assured that many of the large international corporation's lingua franca is English too. But that's where it ends.

The simple fact is that if you want to live and work in a European country you will eventually need to speak a European language. And we're terrible at it! I've been relentlessly ridiculed by my European friends about this, most of whom could speak 3 languages (their own, English and often French) but often multiple. Five isn't uncommon and some people are even on ten. These aren't linguists or teachers, they're everyday run of the mill people, like me and you. And it's a similar story on every other continent in the world.

Britain, we suck at speaking other languages! Repeating what you've just said but slower and louder is just not good enough.

I'm a shining example of this. I've had the opportunity to learn French since I was 6 years old and I've never taken full advantage of it. I even lived in a French speaking country for six months and had a two year relationship with somebody that spoke five European languages. Can I do anything more than order a beer in another language? No and I can barely do that! So if I, Steve, you or any other British person truly wants to go work in Europe I'd suggest we take a long hard look at our linguistic capabilities first.

Steve also suggested we go work in Germany because they've got terrific employment rates. They've also got a terrific education system and primarily operate in German - but they are nice about speaking English. It's certainly not impossible, I have good friends doing just that, but it's not as easy as he portrays.

Or how about we all emigrate to the colonies for the good life of cheap beer and endless sunshine? Well, first of all, Britain tried this a while back and it didn't really go according to plan. Secondly, just like Germany, to work (or indeed get a work visa) in many of these countries you need a productive skill set. Fortunately for me Engineering is on the list for most visa fast track systems.

Uganda, like many African countries, has a skills shortage and a huge unemployment problem. Unlike Germany it has an education system that is not meeting the needs of the populace. This has a lot to do with the teachers and lecturers regularly going on strike because the system doesn't have enough money to pay them on a regular basis. Probably because at some point, or perhaps all points, officials are skimming money away. To be charitable that's probably because they're not being paid properly either. To be uncharitable it's perhaps because the Ministers are embezzling funds somewhere else. This is conjecture though.

Furthermore the economy, although growing, isn't big enough to provide jobs for all of the young people that do have skills and education. So unless you, dear British comrade, have useful skills to offer or can produce employment opportunities for the thousands of unemployed Ugandans, the government doesn't really want you. And so it shouldn't. Just because you've got a sociology degree from the University of Hull and a burning desire to help poor Africans (or perhaps just to live the good life in a sunny country) doesn't mean you should come to do a job that you wouldn't be qualified for in the UK.

Britain does produce many highly qualified and useful people. I passionately believe that we could be leading the way in socially beneficial business, engineering and research. As a country we really do have the experience to do that and as a global population we need more people doing it.  But if you want to export your skills to another country, whether in the EU or the rest of the world, you need just that - skills. Apart from that we all need to pull our collective fingers out and learn some languages. Britain, the world is laughing at us.

What Madiba taught me about living in Kumasi.....

A few things have happened to me recently. The most prominent of which is that I’ve moved from Kampala, in Uganda, to Kumasi, in Ghana. And Nelson Mandela has died.

Now this isn’t to say the Mandela’s life or his death had much of a profound impact on me. I am, as has been stated before on this blog, a British white middle class man. I am almost the antithesis to Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela. If I had been born further south than I was I would’ve been part of the system that oppressed him and I hope, although doubt, I would have had the courage to oppose it. I did not grow up with Mandela as my hero although I have learnt to respect and admire his courage, principles and actions; whilst understanding that there are many unsung people fighting similar battles to this day.

His death has provoked a reaction in many of my friends, as well as millions (probably billions) of other people, to express publicly their profound respect for a man that stood in the limelight and led, eventually, a process of peace and reconciliation probably unparalleled in modern history. Many have deep connection to him and his work for various reasons and he was an incredibly important figure in their lives; which is hugely important.

I too was one of those millions to eulogise on Facebook, to which my somewhat right wing British cousin questioned eulogising a man that was convicted as a terrorist – something he was categorised as until 2008 by the US. I was also contacted by an Afrikaans friend who fully accepted the great work that he’d done for their country but suggested I not forget that he and the ANC did attack many people who were not directly involved in the Apartheid system. A Nigerian/Ghanaian friend also posted Six Things Nelson Mandela Believed That Most People Won’t Talk About and a fantastic piece from Okwonga called Mandela will never, ever be your minstrel.

Both pieces were filled with passionate intent to remind the clamouring masses that Mandela’s struggle was not a unique event and that what he fought for still very much needs to be fought. To quote:

“You will make out that apartheid was just some sort of evil mystical space disease that suddenly fell from the heavens and settled on all of us, had us all, black or white, in its thrall, until Mandela appeared from the ether to redeem us. You will try to make Mandela a Magic Negro and you will fail. You will say that Mandela stood above all for forgiveness whilst scuttling swiftly over the details of the perversity that he had the grace to forgive.

You will try to make out that apartheid was some horrid spontaneous historical aberration, and not the logical culmination of centuries of imperial arrogance.”

I lapped this up. Having been educated in the UK we were starved of British history's context outside of that which we had triumphed. The Nazis were spoon fed to us. Nobody ever mentioned that Colonialism was morally abhorrent or that it led to horrific decisions being taken with, at best, misinformation from far off lands about people we didn’t understand and at worst specific bias towards dividing and subjugating foreign populations for our own benefit.

Furthermore a British history teacher won’t mention that it was not the Afrikaners who first suggested Apartheid in South Africa, it was the British, having forced the wives and children of the Boers in to concentration camps (we dreamt them up too), we were very much in charge back then; or that our Thatcherite Government didn’t even oppose it when it was in full flow. Smuts (ironically the only man in history to sign both peace treaties for WW1 and WW2 which the Declaration of Human Rights is based on), Churchill and Rhodes all supported the idea. Even Ghandi, educated in London, has been quoted in support of separation.

It was that last sentence “culmination of centuries of imperial arrogance”, then, that hit home. That’s me! As a British Citizen my position in the world and my privileged education is just that. Therefore, is my stance on this really a true belief in equality between all people or just a reflection of fashionable humanitarian sentiment of the moment? Will it dissolve when tested and will I revert to the stereotype of an arrogant expat?

Having had free time to take stock of myself I can’t honestly say that I have always stood for what I’m arguing Mandela stood for. Let me explain.

Kumasi, in contrast to Kampala, appears to have limited external influence and, as the Capital of the Ashanti Kingdom, the people are very proud of their heritage. Apparently for decades now there have been many Lebanese expats trading in lumber and real estate but other than that there aren’t many expats. Much of the wealth (and there is plenty), upon first glance, appears to be owned by Ghanaians with what seems like a more equal distribution.

The people of Kumasi also seem more conservative than many Kampalalites and with far fewer expats or tourists in the city there are far fewer accoutrements that go with them – including expensive foreign restaurants and racially divided standards of living. I’m not suggesting that expats in Kampala are implementing any form of separation (quite the opposite) but even the lowliest of European interns lives in a better house with a better standard of living than many of the people in the ever increasing unplanned urban sprawl across the low lying areas of the city; or, to be honest, than many Ugandan people working for NGOs or other companies. That must feel pretty raw.

Kampala had a large and vibrant expat community and it also had a young liberal Ugandan community which I, to my chagrin, didn’t interact with that much. When chatting to one of my few Ugandan friends about Kumasi she sarcastically suggested, “Well, you’ll just have to make friends with the locals.”

I’m more than happy to jump on the bandwagon of Pan African liberation and I often wax lyrical about how wonderful the countries I live in are or of the talent and latent potential to develop socially oriented businesses here (which I truly believe). But when put under the spotlight in Kampala I quickly retreated to the comfort and security of familiar faces and shared cultural identity; just as my Colonial predecessors would have done when presented with cultural differences far greater than that which is present today.

Well what of it? You’ve plenty of friends with similar cultures and experiences. That’s no crime. But if you’re out to do something positive in a collaborative and inter-cultural way, understanding and accepting your differences is vitally important. The danger is in letting yourself get sucked in to a bubble where your views of and opinions about your host culture become clouded by misjudgement. How then can you make good decisions or know when is the right moment to leave?

The great thing now is that I have no choice because there isn’t much of an expat community in Kumasi to fall back on. What I must do is stop searching for the familiar and immerse myself in the unknown. What a fantastic opportunity!

Atimo Recreation

Over a year ago now I headed out on my first of many adventures with Charlie and Jenny of the Mountain Club of Uganda. So I figured it's about time I wrote something about it all! This is the first in a series of look backs on my time in Uganda.

I headed up on Friday evening after work because I wanted to meet up with some old friends from Gulu that I'd worked with on a previous project - a bunch of ladies we affectionately referred to as The Gulu Girls. So I hopped on a bus from the crowded Kampala bus park and sat through the usual hour or so wait for loading. I arrived in Gulu as fresh as a dried cowpat and found my hotel via the police who wanted me to pay them for their services. In the morning I managed to meet up with Sue and Mary who told me all about how my old friends were getting on since the last time I'd been in Uganda.

Gulu has been through protracted war for about two decades and is now maintaining a hard won peace. So The Gulu Girls all grew up in Internally Displaced People's camps on the outskirts of the city and have struggled along ever since. Having gone through a secretarial school some other friends were supporting from the UK, Sue's now a secretary at the St Mary's Sacred Hearts school for girls and Mary's working in an internet cafe. Both are pursuing further education and the other girls seem to be getting on well.

Charlie's not so happy queuing

Fortunately for our conversation the others had a puncture and comedy of errors fixing it on the way up, so we had plenty of time to chat. But finally Jenny, Charlie and V bumbled in to town in Porsch-a, J&C's beloved but battered Rav4. Following a breakfast of mandazi and milk tea, Jenny made Charlie stand in line for some kerosene and we headed off to The Recreation Project 

The Recreation Project is the brainchild of Ben Porter, a psycho-analyst that's been working in the area for about 7 years. As he said, "I got bored of sitting kids down and saying Now kids we're going to talk about the worst thing that ever happened to you!" So he created an adventure playground that you can only get round in pairs or as a group. The idea is to nurture trust and confidence in children that have been through horrific things. I've no idea if it's working, but at the very least Ben's given the children of Gulu a good time - which is often overlooked in Development Practitioners thinking. Everybody needs a good time!

Climbing at TRP

We came to Gulu to find a rock at Fort Patiko where Samuel Baker set up to see off the slavers and to do so we needed Grace, who worked at TRP. But we came to TRP to see their new climbing wall built by a bunch of Norwegians (I think) who set some pretty gnarly routes on a planks of eucalyptus.

After running around the playground, jumping off the leap of faith and lunch of beans n rice we headed out to find Tony, the badass Boda driver.

There is always a man associated with land in Uganda and this time it was no different. We arrived as it was getting dark and the men were getting drunk. Tony talked them down to a few thousand shillings and we followed him in to the gloom, bumping through the bush following the headlight of his tiny bike.

We set up camp atop the rock accompanied by a gaggle of little boys and the squeal of Tony's engine to provide enough light from his headlamp. Then headed off in to the darkness further up the rock to find deadwood for a fire. Fire set Tony had a go at breaking Charlie's new stove that he'd queued so patiently to get kerosene for and I broke out the waragi - then apparently proceeded to snore.

The next morning we awoke to silence and sunrise. We found that we were on a plateau with views stretching out across the plains, the first time I was to find that Uganda is full of plains or rolling hills then huge rocks just bubbling up out of the ground.

A view to wake up to

Rocks with no cracks! Which wasn't much use for my new trad rack. But we set up a top anchor and belayed from the top to scope out the route. There's a pretty bald bulge at the base with a finger crack that you can smear up before getting to some easier slab work and then you're up! Atimo (I did it!) Recreation.

Rapping down the rock

Charlie on the rock

Jenny on the rock

V 'I've never climbed or camped before' on the rock

The problem with adventuring on the weekends is you have to get back for work on Monday. So we headed on down, packed up Porsch-a, watched V's sleeping head bounce up and down on the cool box and chuckled at Jenny & Charlies friendly bickering over each other's driving.

5 hours later we were back in the chaos that is Kampala. 

(Most of the photo credits go to Jenny Farmer)