More Third-World Thingies

Harken back to the heady days of yesteryear, folks! Well, not very far. Just back to this previous post and “Frangipani Paradise, Part II.” That column and the two preceding it were about “Third World Things;” what we called 3WT’s. I suggest you refresh your memories on ’em, to make this gibberish less gibbery. You’ve asked a lot of questions, mostly about stuff I didn’t have space to go into in those columns. So, here’s a buncha answers.

First, some clarification on Second versus Third World countries, and my past role when traveling in them: Our old joke was What’s the difference between the Second and Third worlds? Answer: Two clicks. Meaning, go two kilometers from the major cities and towns of “developing countries”—the so-called Second World nations—and often, you’re in the undeveloped, sometimes starkly undeveloped Third World. Too often, diplomats and envoys from First World nations never cross those two-click zones and as a result, get a very badly skewed view of the country as a whole. Unfortunately, geopolitically important and expensive policy-shaping decisions are frequently based on those distorted observations.

It’s not really those functionaries’ faults. Their visits and movements are very closely stage-managed by their hosts. They see only what they are shown, and what they’re shown is what supports the agenda of whomever is in power. Secondary—“unimportant”—personnel performing ancillary duties like training and liaising with lower echelons of the host nation’s military and police forces are less closely monitored—or not at all. That’s where guys like me came in.

Fortunately, back stateside there were an army of intense, focused analyst-types laboring in anonymous gray cubicles, eagerly digesting all of our comments on the tone, temperature and facts-in-the-field in far-flung places. Sometimes, just sometimes, the silk-skivvied politicos and dudes with gold macaroni on their cap-bills actually paid attention to those reports. Sometimes.

Chickens, Eggs & Security

Several asked What was the real significance of the toilet paper in the old lady’s cart? It wasn’t “TP” to me; it was finished goods. Actually, that elderly campesina and her pushcart provided a wealth of information on local conditions. She was dressed no better nor worse than other locals on the road. Her cart was well-maintained. The box had wood slat sides and heavy wire front and rear sections. I could see a half-dozen commercially-labeled tins of various sizes from soup-can size to a Number 10 can down low, covered with “soft” ripe fruits and vegetables. The TP was on top.

The cart had a long U-shaped push-handle, with drooping fabric netting suspended between the bars. The netting held several woven baskets half-full of straw. I thought I knew what they were, but asked the driver, Roberto. He confirmed, “egg baskets,” and opined she had a lot of laying hens, and took loads of eggs to market twice or three times per week. Her eggs were her currency. She would come to market with her eggs secured in the box and return with goods in the box and empty baskets in the netting.

Think about it. An elderly peasant woman is on the road alone, smiling, pushing a well-maintained cart containing fresh produce, finished goods and empty baskets sufficient to hold several dozen eggs. Judging from the amount of perishable goods, which could, unrefrigerated, “go over” in a few days, she was likely supplying a large extended family. She was unafraid and obviously contented. She was returning from the local marketplace/bazaar before noon; only an hour after schooltime, when many buyers in that area would be going to market.

When “peasants” are only buying—more likely bartering for—perishable consumables, that’s not such a good sign. Finished goods and canned goods are healthy signs, even in very small quantities. Her eggs meant a successful, well-tended henhouse, and her timing meant she had reliable regular customers, probably re-sellers, for them. She had likely “sold out” her eggs in minutes, selected her groceries, had a cuppa tea and a chat with old friends, and then hit the road home with no fear of bandits or thugs. She even had a grin and a wave for a government car. That speaks volumes about local conditions. I had recently seen horror stories. The change was nice.

Cars, Roads, Seeds and Piggies

About that nice old black government Cadillac and peoples’ response to it: You can guess what it means when people scowl, turn away or scurry when they see a government vehicle. In this case they smiled and waved. I was even more impressed when I learned that Caddy had never driven that road before. When new, it was reserved for top officials in the capital. As it aged, it became available to lesser dignitaries, and finally, it became the courier car to the hinterlands. This was its maiden voyage to the sticks, replacing an older, army-brown Chevrolet the people were used to seeing. What’s your take-away from that?

The roads themselves hold tell-tales. Too often, First World observers only see the dirt and dust. Pavement isn’t that important. I was looking at drainage and underlayment where the road ran over ditches and small ravines. What is its year-round wet-weather condition and capacity?

I had Roberto stop several times. I saw lots of careful rockwork, both recent and old with newer repairs; old supports with newer culverts; runoff management and steep places where heavy wood and iron beams had been inset herringbone-style to provide drainage, “corrugation” and improved traction during heavy rains. I learned the government had supplied most materials and some supervision for local volunteers completing the work and then maintaining it.

Another tell-tale: Few of these improvements would accommodate armored and oversized, overweight vehicles. The government invested in common-folk travel and goods-to-market, not transporting the juggernauts of oppression internally. This is not what you find in many Second and Third World places, where they either provide for tanks, or virtually abandon rural areas to their own fates.

Other clues in bazaars and marketplaces: Aside from consumables heavy on protein, sugars and carbs, you look for “future-leading” goods: an active market in seeds, piglets, lambs and chicks. A lean-to displaying crudely-made cane knives and machetes ranks way below a lockable enclosure featuring replacement saw blades, hammer handles and heads, sections of sheet metals, heavy shears and hand drills. When you see two under-35 guys in a crossroads village bazaar enthusiastically negotiating a deal for a 50-piece tap-and-die set while the shopkeeper happily serves them coffee—as I saw that day—that’s an excellent sign of “health in the boondocks!” Even better, folks picking through bins of small electrical parts!