The poor (the lumpen proletariat, the peasants, the traditional villagers, the wretched of the earth, the uneducated masses, the uncivilized tribes – or any number of names we, as privileged individuals, call them) have been stereotyped and continue to be spoken about by those of us who are considered more fortunate.
Instead of speaking to them, we speak about them. Instead of asking their opinion on their oppressive conditions, we assume we actually know what is best for them.
And among travelers (we are travelers not tourists go the progressive mantra) is a pervasive belief that the only benefit a poor person can receive from hospitality exchange is something financial. Why would they want to host a relatively wealthy backpacker for free? It’s too much of a burden for them, say many.
However, these generalizations ignore the fact that, in many ways, the poor have a lot to teach us about hospitality. In fact, whether one is speaking of an urban slum or a traditional rural village, openness and hospitality are often defining characteristics of these communities.
My own experience staying in impoverished communities all over the world is a case in point. As long as I was willing to follow the right channels, I was always fully welcome in any community I stayed. In January 2008 for instance, I stayed in the Kennedy Road Shack Settlement of the social movement Abahlali baseMjondolo in Durban, South Africa. The people there deeply appreciated my desire to learn about their community and their struggle for a better life. To South Africa’s poor, hospitality is an important concept that forms part of the philosophy of Ubuntu, a person is a person through other persons. While it strengthens the way communities work together as a collective, it also recognizes the interconnectedness of all human beings – the founding basis of any hospitality exchange program. So, while I stayed in Kennedy Road, I never felt out of place or unwelcome.
Likewise, I have quite recently been embraced by a new community of evicted residents of the Delft Township in Cape Town. While fighting for their constitutional right to housing, the Delft Symphony Pavement Dwellers (as they proudly call themselves) have, in the space of only a month, created a deeply interconnected and cooperative community. Although at least 40 families have invited me to come stay in their hokkie (shack), I chose the neutral ground of their communal kitchen/office/bedroom. In the past few weeks, the pavement has become like my second home. My nights are usually spent in front of a bonfire where residents tell stories, talk about their challenges and struggles, confide in personal issues, or ask me about America. In the mornings, I’m always greeted first with coffee and then with tea when they remember I don’t like coffee. This is followed by a porridge of mealie-pap – not quite the most nutritious breakfast but they only thing the communal kitchen can afford to provide to residents. And when I am not around for more than a day, I’m always greeted with the common maxim: you’ve been scarce! (Implying the unsaid: do you no longer care about us?).
To me (though many others may see it differently), this is the true meaning of hospitality. Ubuntu hospitality: the unconditional acceptance of others into a community based on our common humanity. No matter the financial strain, people of poverty (not understating their faults and not idealizing their oppression) understand that the non-economic benefits are by far more important.
There is no place I feel more welcome, more valued, more human, than in the company of those who have so little but still share it all. And this is why I am so excited about BeWelcome’s unique new initiative: the community profile.
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