To Queen Bee or Not To Be

Last week I fended an unexpected offer to be Queen Mother of one of the interns’ villages. What had once been a simple plan to celebrate Easter in the village was whipped into a frenzied weekend of royal festivities in my honor. The plan went as follows:

I was to arrive at the junction to the village on Saturday morning, where I would be met by the rented brass band and several strapping young men who would lift me onto their shoulders and carry me one mile into the village. Would they set me down? Oh, no they would not. They would carry me the entire weekend. On Saturday there would be a ceremony where I would be “enstooled” (essentially enthroned), involving lots of singing, drumming, and a bracelet of Queen’s beads more glorious than any of the “inferior” beads we had bought from expert local bead-makers. The bracelet would identify me all over the country as a Queen Mother. They would prepare a special room for me and I would feast on the best food found in the village.

On Sunday, the brass band would be traded for a sound system (a huge undertaking for a village without electricity), and the festivities would continue. The village, with about 15 households and no more than 200 people, was planning to pay for a radio announcement about the celebration the week before so that any community members living around the country could return home to join in. They would try to keep me as long as possible, but I could leave Monday if I absolutely had to.

I bet you’re wondering why me and what my role as Queen Mother would be. To answer the first question, the official reason I was given was that they were so happy with the two volunteers “I” gave them that they wanted to honor me in this way. As the elder representative of the organization, they felt it was only right to bestow this honor upon me. As Queen Mother, I would be responsible for the development of their community. After returning to America, I should remember them and send them assistance.

Let us take a moment to draw a picture of my relationship to this community prior to their decision. I visited the community with my Ghanaian counterpart Martha when scouting for new communities and met with the elders and the host families. We decided it would be a great site for two of the interns and placed them there. Now, I visit once a week and meet briefly with the families and interns.

While I was honored that they wanted to show their appreciation to our organization in this way and was a bit excited about the Queen’s bracelet and the title of Queen Mother (I’ve always wanted to be queen), I felt uneasy about accepting this responsibility. Let me count the ways:

Knowing that I wouldn’t actually live up to my responsibilities as Queen Mother, I don’t think it is fair to accept the title just for the honor and the bracelet. Too many politicians and people in power here sit in their fancy houses with their lofty titles and don’t actually do anything to help the people they are supposed to help. I can’t do the same thing, filling them up with hope and reverence for my title, and then casually and quietly disappointing them with my inaction.

I get that I am an “elder” among the group (even though Martha is older than me, so perhaps “elder” was not the only factor in the decision), however the interns placed there have a much stronger connection with the community. It is not fair to take this honor from them.

I don’t like the idea of being the focus of the weekend and the larger program for this community. Again, it is not about me, it is about the interns and the community.

I lived in a village in Cameroon for two years.  If I was going to “assist” any community, Meri is the one I would assist, not a community I barely know in Ghana.

I am not comfortable with the idea that the village would spend so much energy and money to honor me when those resources would be better used in the community itself. Also, the whole idea that someone from outside the community is more responsible for its development than the community itself does not sit well with me. It disempowers the community and gives them a scapegoat when their situation doesn’t improve.

This was a big deal that the elders of the community had discussed and agreed upon. After discussing with Martha, who supported my reasoning, I felt that I had to turn them down. Martha called and tried to explain it to them (in the local language), but they would not accept my decision. In the meantime, the host community for the other two interns got wind of the first community’s plan and now they want me to be their Queen Mother too. Two Queendoms! What more could a girl want?

We are working on a swift resolution, but the situation underscores some of the major issues of international “development” work. For one, the projection on foreigners, especially white people, of the power and ability to make things happen that a community doesn’t think they can do for themselves. If they have the money to rent a brass band and a sound system and make Easter t-shirts for the whole village and buy the special beads for my bracelet and feed me delicacies, they certainly have the money for a small project. They absolutely have the workforce and skills for construction projects like latrines, water tanks, and classrooms. In this remote community, they could wait thousands of years for help that never comes, while ignoring the resources in their midst to build slowly, bit by bit. So the question I ponder constantly in my work is why do they wait? And I’m not looking for simple answers like they have so much farm work or no system for fundraising in the village. I am looking for the more complex psychology of being part of a community that has received messages that they need to change and “improve” their ways, and has all the skills and most of the resources to do so, but still, nothing happens.

Why?