"Mbeya, as a habitable ruin, attracted foreign charities. This I found depressing rather than hopeful, for they had been at it for decades and the situation was more pathetic than ever. There were many aid workers in the town, looking busy and deeply suspicious, always traveling in pairs in the manner of cultists and Mormon evangelists, never sharing. They seemed to represent a new breed of priesthood, but they were the most circumspect, evasive, and unforthcoming people, like the most bureaucratic social workers, such in a sense they were, either scolding or silent."
"As a breed, the agents of virtue avoided intimacy with outsiders, especially with the likes of me, unattached wanderers whom they seemed to regard as dangerous to their mission."
"They must have seen into my heart, for at this point in my trip I seriously questioned their mission. They hardly made eye contact. This English habit of averting the gaze was inspired by the fear that any show of friendliness meant they might be obligated to make a gesture -- offer a ride, a favor. They had brand-new vehicles, always white Land Rovers or white Toyota Land Cruisers, and they drove them with ministerial haughtiness."
". . . . It is for someone else, not me, to evaluate the success or failure of charitable efforts in Africa. Offhand, I would say the whole push has been misquided, because it has gone on too long with negligible results. If anyone had asked me to expalin, my reasoning would have been: Where are the Africans in all this? In my view, aid is a failure if in forty years of charity the only people still dishing up the food and doling out the money are foreigners. No Africans are involved -- there is not even a concept of African volunteerism or labor-intensive projects. If all you have done is spend money and have not inspired anyone, you can teach the sharpest lesson by turning your back and going home."