The life of an ex-patriate …

Am currently sitting at Maputo Airport, ready to fly to Chomoio, my home for the next 3 weeks. Before I do so, let me recount my experiences from the weekend …

… Yesterday I went to my first ex-patriate (‘ex-pat’ – that is, those people living in a foreign country for work reasons) party. It was lots of fun. There were about ten of us there, most hailing from the US or UK, working for the government (in diplomacy or trade) or NGOs (non-government organizations, like Technoserve). The home we were at was huge – about as big as my old house – complete with a pool and BBQ (mmm…chicken). We spent a very long lunch talking US politics, what each of us were doing in Mozambique, ex-pat politics and happenings, then the “Scotch Whiskey adjective game”, which involved tasting 4 different kinds of 12 to 15 year old scotch, trying to describe its look/nose/flavour/finish in 12 adjectives, and matching it up with the description in this guidebook someone had. An expensive, but fun game, even for people like me who only drank a thimble-full of each (honest!).

I am full of admiration for these people. Pretty much all of them were doing some pretty impactful things – trying to cancel foreign debt, working with Mozambican companies and encouraging them to grow, fighting the HIV epidemic. It must be tough living away from home for many years (could I do it? I don’t know), but having an ‘ex-pat community’ must kind of make up for it. In fact, most of them really reveled in it – how many other jobs will pay you to travel exotic countries, do weekend safaris and complete high impact work?

On the other hand, I kind of struggle with the very uneven distribution of wealth between expats and citizens; the very problem many of us expats (I’ll count myself a temporary member of the club!) are attempting to address.

Honestly, for my time in Maputo, I have felt a little like a British imperialist – having breakfast (unlimited bacon and eggs! And fruit! And cake!) served to me by Mozambicans in native dress on ornate tablecloths and fine china; going to a great party where, between the 10 of us, we consumed food and drink easily worth the Mozambican GDP per capita many times over, being driven everywhere by chaffeurs and taxis, living in air conditioned apartments with cable TV (though I hear Chomoio is quite different!). Mind you, I can’t propose an alternative, but something about it doesn’t seem quite fair.

Blessings
John (the Asian-British Imperialist of sorts)