Good Humanitarian Aid: Talk To The Chief.

Humanitarians in rural areas must talk with village leaders, like this chief in a remote village in Laos.

Human­i­tar­i­ans in rural areas must work with local lead­ers. World Con­cern employ­ees shared many meals with this chief (cen­ter) in a remote vil­lage in Laos.

In tribal vil­lages, you don’t barge in and demand per­mis­sion to install an out­house, or pro­vide an edu­ca­tion to the chil­dren who can­not read. After explor­ing World Con­cern’s human­i­tar­ian projects in six coun­tries in South­east Asia, I see that if you want some­thing done in a tribal vil­lage, you must first talk with the chief.

I used to think of a chief as a wise old Native Amer­i­can man with a feather head­dress, look­ing off into the dis­tance as he calmly plots the tribe’s next move. Instead, in these SE Asian tribal cul­tures, the chief might be in his mid-30s or 40s, and wear a polo shirt and Adi­das track pants.

First, let me tell you about a chief I met in a vil­lage in Laos. World Con­cern pro­vides human­i­tar­ian aid in some remote places, and this is sure one of them. No run­ning water. No power. To get there, we drove for seven hours on dirt roads, cross­ing two rivers. We found our­selves in a region still pock­marked by craters, from bombs dropped on Viet­namese con­voys as they trav­eled through the jun­gle dur­ing the war.

Rick­ety wooden fences sur­round the vil­lage, to hold in the live­stock, and to keep out what­ever crea­tures may lurk in the jun­gle. We drove in and every­body stopped to look at the vehi­cle, a nov­elty in an area where peo­ple mea­sure dis­tances in hours or days to walk.

We found the chief at one of the larger homes built on stilts. Dressed casual, but very business-like. No sur­prise, though, because work­ing in his vil­lage has been a team effort. Since we began our human­i­tar­ian aid here five years ago, he’s come to see what we’re all about, and wants more and more aid for his village.

Although he has a very lim­ited edu­ca­tion, he sees the hope that edu­ca­tion brings, whether it is to improve per­sonal hygiene or to pro­vide school­ing for the chil­dren. He held a cou­ple of meet­ings while we were there, and in the end, after see­ing how our projects work, he was stump­ing for fur­ther human­i­tar­ian aid.

Another chief I met was a man some­where close to 50 years old, the leader of a vil­lage in the Myan­mar delta. On the day I vis­ited, he was prepar­ing to marry off his daugh­ter. In his home, bright stream­ers stretched across the room. On the wall hung a photo of his wife and young son, both killed dur­ing the cyclone last year. He was pleased to see us, and invited us to take pho­tos of his vil­lage. With­out per­mis­sion, though, the rest of the vil­lagers would not be com­fort­able with us wan­der­ing around with cameras.

It’s just how it is. The chief is respected and con­sid­ered the vil­lage vision­ary and pro­tec­tor, and he car­ries a lot of influ­ence. And we lis­ten, not only because it’s polite, but also because lis­ten­ing usu­ally makes the project better.

This article is from Humanitarian Aid and Relief: http://humanitarian.worldconcern.org/2009/06/the-chief/




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