Working in rural Tanzania, I have many people who tend not to have much money, but do not work simply because they "do not like to work." No, these are not people who are falsely called "lazy." Real lazy people like money, but simply do not want to put in the effort to earn it. These people, however, simply have no interest in earning money. Perhaps if they are more motivated to earn money, they would work very hard and persistently. But I simply cannot tell because they show not enough desire to earn money in order to work hard.
Chinese factory owners in other parts of Africa tell similar stories. They speak of employees who come to work, work hard for a few days, earn their weekly paycheck, and then disappear for a few weeks. A few weeks later, they come back, asking to work again, citing that they ran out of money, after using some and giving some away to friends and family in need. To counter such behavior, the factory owners increased salaries for the local workers. Instead of more loyalty for higher pay, the workers responded by disappearing even more frequently and coming back even later.
Asked for rationale on such behavior, the factory owners note that the workers are simply trying to earn a certain amount of money. After that amount of money is earned, they go off to do something else. Once the money runs out, they come back to earn that same amount of money again. The cycle just continues. The factory owners are confused. That "certain amount of money" is certainly not a lot even by rural African standards. It definitely would not stretch beyond buying food, clothing, and some basic necessities for a few weeks. So why do they not work more so they can buy more, better things?
On this one, I refuse to buy the argument that the rural Tanzanian is satisfied with the fun that can be had without the use of much money. Yes, some fun here indeed cost much more time than money. Attending massive social gatherings that goes on for mind-bogglingly long hours is surprisingly common, for instance. But the rural Tanzanian is much more connected to modernity than many outsiders credit them for. Townsfolk have good smartphones, want home appliances that convenience their daily lives, and are jealous of rich people with their castle-like houses, luxurious cars, and globetrotting lifestyles.
But still, the more time I spend in rural Tanzania, the more I feel that such townsfolk are a tiny minority of the overall population. For most people residing in the countryside, material wealth in terms of imported luxuries are not merely unreachable, but it is also largely irrelevant for their daily lives. Much as foreign foods remain unpalatable for most people here, foreign conveniences are often ridiculed, despite the fact that most of the same people would never have enough contact with such products to see whether they can have a revolutionary impact on their daily lives.
It is, to put concisely, the failure of capitalism. Capitalist ventures succeed by creating demand where none existed before. First, invent a piece of technological tool that is deemed worthwhile for everyday use. Then redesign them to make them seem cool, hip, and thus desirable; adjust them further to make them addictive and irreplaceable. Finally, market them to millions via visible campaigns. In rural Tanzania, none of these steps actually happens. Because people are unwilling to try new foreign products (purchasing them is even more inconceivable), no one is incentivized to specially design products that best suit their daily lives.
So what ends up happening instead is that whatever high-end products available are those designed for foreigners living far far away, whose lifestyles and needs are completely different from the rural Tanzanian. By purchasing these products, locals are essentially being forced into a lifestyle (and along with it, a set of correlated values and beliefs) that are completely foreign to them. Thought this way, it is no wonder that few people see the need to work so hard to buy these products. These expensive products are fundamentally not Tanzanian, it does not go along with their traditions and cultures. So why spend money on them?
At the end of the day, it goes back to the "us" vs "them" mentality of many Tanzanians. "They" flood "our" markets with their products that have no place in "our" traditional society, so that "we" can be more like "them." Without saying so explicitly, there is definitely some degree of resentment that rural Africans find in such an arrangement. In such an arrangement, money becomes but another tool for rural Tanzanians to be forced into a perceivably non-Tanzanian lifestyle. To remain themselves, they have to remain untouched by money. As dark as that sounds, it represents one explanation of why many here show no interest in cash.
Chinese factory owners in other parts of Africa tell similar stories. They speak of employees who come to work, work hard for a few days, earn their weekly paycheck, and then disappear for a few weeks. A few weeks later, they come back, asking to work again, citing that they ran out of money, after using some and giving some away to friends and family in need. To counter such behavior, the factory owners increased salaries for the local workers. Instead of more loyalty for higher pay, the workers responded by disappearing even more frequently and coming back even later.
Asked for rationale on such behavior, the factory owners note that the workers are simply trying to earn a certain amount of money. After that amount of money is earned, they go off to do something else. Once the money runs out, they come back to earn that same amount of money again. The cycle just continues. The factory owners are confused. That "certain amount of money" is certainly not a lot even by rural African standards. It definitely would not stretch beyond buying food, clothing, and some basic necessities for a few weeks. So why do they not work more so they can buy more, better things?
On this one, I refuse to buy the argument that the rural Tanzanian is satisfied with the fun that can be had without the use of much money. Yes, some fun here indeed cost much more time than money. Attending massive social gatherings that goes on for mind-bogglingly long hours is surprisingly common, for instance. But the rural Tanzanian is much more connected to modernity than many outsiders credit them for. Townsfolk have good smartphones, want home appliances that convenience their daily lives, and are jealous of rich people with their castle-like houses, luxurious cars, and globetrotting lifestyles.
But still, the more time I spend in rural Tanzania, the more I feel that such townsfolk are a tiny minority of the overall population. For most people residing in the countryside, material wealth in terms of imported luxuries are not merely unreachable, but it is also largely irrelevant for their daily lives. Much as foreign foods remain unpalatable for most people here, foreign conveniences are often ridiculed, despite the fact that most of the same people would never have enough contact with such products to see whether they can have a revolutionary impact on their daily lives.
It is, to put concisely, the failure of capitalism. Capitalist ventures succeed by creating demand where none existed before. First, invent a piece of technological tool that is deemed worthwhile for everyday use. Then redesign them to make them seem cool, hip, and thus desirable; adjust them further to make them addictive and irreplaceable. Finally, market them to millions via visible campaigns. In rural Tanzania, none of these steps actually happens. Because people are unwilling to try new foreign products (purchasing them is even more inconceivable), no one is incentivized to specially design products that best suit their daily lives.
So what ends up happening instead is that whatever high-end products available are those designed for foreigners living far far away, whose lifestyles and needs are completely different from the rural Tanzanian. By purchasing these products, locals are essentially being forced into a lifestyle (and along with it, a set of correlated values and beliefs) that are completely foreign to them. Thought this way, it is no wonder that few people see the need to work so hard to buy these products. These expensive products are fundamentally not Tanzanian, it does not go along with their traditions and cultures. So why spend money on them?
At the end of the day, it goes back to the "us" vs "them" mentality of many Tanzanians. "They" flood "our" markets with their products that have no place in "our" traditional society, so that "we" can be more like "them." Without saying so explicitly, there is definitely some degree of resentment that rural Africans find in such an arrangement. In such an arrangement, money becomes but another tool for rural Tanzanians to be forced into a perceivably non-Tanzanian lifestyle. To remain themselves, they have to remain untouched by money. As dark as that sounds, it represents one explanation of why many here show no interest in cash.
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