Hands-off experience in building the nation

After three months of work as a volunteer in a rural-based development agency, research related work brought me to the doors of the district development officer. As a gesture of urban hospitality, the officer offered to drop me daily to office since I was not residing very far from his palatial home. But if I had nurtured hopes of hassle free travel to work, I was in for a rude shock. His fluctuating schedules ensured that the trip to office was as erratic as it could get. I was forced to cancel some of my morning chores to take advantage of the ‘lift’. The cafeteria down the road became my meeting point with his driver once the boss was tucked in his office. But on this day, things were destined to be different. On arrival at his residence, a sulky –looking Sunil informed me about the pending schedule. Any further explanation was curtailed when the officer appeared at the doorstep to apprise me of the change in his routine errands.

It was to be a business packed schedule as he called it, a rare opportunity to reflect on some of the development packages the government wouldsoon unveil for the people at the grassroots. I could accompany him to get a hands on experience if I so wished, he concluded. Not a bad idea, I told myself. Perhaps I could use the opportunity to complete my pending work along the sidelines of his official duties. But I was in for a surprise when I got his itinerary for the day. The first thing that struck me was the choice of the venues for these meetings. On the cards was the inaugural speech to be deliveredat the local farmers’ cooperative society’s annual meeting at a hill side resort, a welcome address for a high powered delegation of agricultural experts from a foreign country and dinner at the beachside resort at the conclusion of a one week seminar on organic farming.

Certainly a timely programme when you consider the needs of our not so fortunate rural populace, I reflected. I had no option but to fall in line. When we reached the first destination, we were a trifle late but still managed to get a thunderous welcome from the hosts and a near scuffle as the officials vied with each other to lighten the load of the officer. Soon I was with the driver at the parking lot as the meeting got underway. We could hear the thumping and roars of approval emanating from the conference hall. Surely development must have been well on the way to the villages, I thought. A little while latter, there was clutter of utensils and plates. A quick glance at the watch indicated it was well past midday. The hosts must have been preparing to put lunch on the table. Minutes passed by... Soon hours...Still there were no signs of food for us. When the officer finally appeared late in the afternoon, he was in great hurry and just waved at the driver. Off we left for the second agenda.

At the venue, he invited me to join him but I declined opting to stay with the driver and get the true taste of what it means to be the officer’s chauffer building the nation. Although by now, both of us were hungry, we could not go out looking for a place to eat. Firstly, we were not sure when the officer will finally show up. Secondly, asking for a place to eat would send the wrongsignals. I still had the feeling that it would not be long before the hosts or the officers acknowledged our existence. But that was not to be as the earlier scenes were repeated again. By the time he finally finished with his consultations and came stumbling towards the car park, the night was half done. I was so sleepy and hungry. So too was the driver.

I could not figure out at the end who to blame. Was it complacency on our part or the officer’s and the host’s insensitivity? As the driver fought hard to keep the vehicle straight on course, the office kept shuffling uncomfortably at the back. He too must have been drowsy but I was quite sure it had nothing to do with the workload. That we managed to reach home safely was another thing. As we parted company that night, I could not help but mull over the day’s events. About how enthusiastically we had contributed to building the country, albeit in different ways. There could not have been any other way of working for the welfare of the village folk.
                                                                                                                                                           Mr. John Patrick Ojwando
                                                                                                                                                           Lecturer, Dept. of Media Studies