Cycling for Sachs

I spent the first 6 months of this year unexpectedly managing a small safari company based in northern Tanzania, offering mountain bike safaris through the African bush with a Serengeti-stopover for some wildlife spotting. The experience was one I shall never forget, chiefly due to the continuous and daily challenges, experiences and events that occurred during those 6 months. In a purely masculine environment, I drove, towed and cleaned an ex-army 101 landrover truck, dug a landcruiser out of 3 ft black-cotton-coil mud, hired and fired an alcoholic cook and, on occasion, worked a ridiculous 80-hour week. One day in March, into the middle of this male-dominated workshop/office, rode two young cyclists called Niall and Grant.

Niall and Grant were two tall, tanned young men cycling from Cairo to Capetown. They had brake problems - vital when cycling south - and were searching out Juma, our trusty bicycle mechanic, who can fix, replace, or rebuild almost anything. With the telling of their many stories, I had an overwhelming sense of jealousy. Their trip, however, wasn’t entirely self-fulfilling. The overland dream was not a selfish ambition, but intended to raise $300'000 for the Millenium Promise: Cycle for Change, a charity initiated by the legendary economic genius Professor Jeffery Sachs. Jacob Weisberg of The Slate.com is one critic who doesn’t fully buy into Sachs theory, and he explains why in his article. Sachs book The End of Poverty suggests that we, the West with the wealth, should listen to Destiny’s Child when they sang ‘spread a little love’ and do more good, be more generous; in short, spend a lot more money on eradicating poverty. Weisberg questions the wisdom of this when donor governments remain unsuccessful in following up on the altruism they so gratefully pour into Africa. Weisberg comments on the arguable success or failure of Bob Geldof’s Live Aid campaign for Ethiopia in the 80s, stating that ‘Ethiopia is significantly poorer than it was 20 years ago… and perpetually dependent on charity’. Weisberg points out the $500 billion in aid poured into Africa over the last 40 years, and the relentless widening of the wealth gap between Africa and the West that has accompanied these handouts.

As an idealistic student sporting a white wrist band to Make Poverty History, I queued for hours to stand just metres away from the great Nelson Mandela in Trafalgar Square. Whilst inadvertently disgusted by Geldof’s profanity in the process, I nevertheless cheered with the crowd. My trip down the road of experience has come full circle, campaigning (read: hassling) on the streets of London for one of the largest donor organisations in the UK, only to make my way to East Africa where I am now employed by a local partner of the same donor organisation. Having raised a small proportion of the cash, I know find myself evaluating the success of its spending, reporting back to one of the largest distributors of aid on where their money is actually going.

Whilst my left-wing cynicism remains functioning when faced with two David-shaped gods-on-bikes, living the dream and spreading the love, my idealism remains intact when considering the efforts of Western governments. Don’t get me wrong, I continue to question the way these efforts are delivered. I have marched through London with millions of others to ensure the visiting Bush knew he was not welcome in Britain. I have chanted ‘Bush Go Home’ continuously on an 8 mile route through The City. I have stood on the side of a dusty African road as the great George passed on his official 5-nation, aid-promising visit in March. I have stuck two fingers up at the accompanying 46 cars, 1 ambulance and a helicopter that brought the nation to a standstill as roads and airports were closed for miles. But I have yet to reach the end of hope. An End to Poverty? I still hope for one.