5 Things Only Those Who Grew Up in Third World Countries Will Know
I have lived in different cities in Latin America and Africa for over twenty years. Every country is different but also similar in some characteristics. These observations come from personal experience.
Traffic Lights are Only Recommendations
Driving in a third world country is tricky. Obeying the law requires a degree of common sense and audacity. It is necessary to develop some sort of intuition for the streets. Traffic lights and signs are merely suggestions for the people.
I have clear memories of my first car accident. My friend was driving, and I was in the passenger seat. We were talking about movies and how we would write better endings. I remember we stopped at the red light and talked about making our own short-film. The green light was on, and I told Hector to continue driving. As we were crossing the street, I turned my head to the right, and I saw the face of a surprised driver coming our way. We got hit. The passenger’s door got pushed halfway inwards. It was clearly his fault.
When the police arrived, the driver who hit us told them that we were the ones that didn’t stop at on the red light. This chronologically didn’t make sense since he hit our car instead of ours hitting his. Still, the police took him more seriously because he was older. We don’t have traffic cameras, so the only thing that matters is who has a better story to blame the other person at the end of the day. Luckily, the insurance company solved that matter eight months later.
Since that accident, I would always slow down at each corner and check no cars were coming my way, especially when there was a green light. As luck would have it, I was in another accident where I was the passenger again. After that, I called the U.S embassy in my country, I told them I feared for my life, and I needed asylum.
There is no Customer Service, and Refunds Don’t Exist
When I arrived in America, I was shocked that no one questioned me or gave me weird looks when I returned items.
That would never happen in my country. Before I ever bought anything, I had to make sure that what I was buying was legit. I would have to check in detail that the items were not counterfeit. I would have to haggle the price to make the best deal, but once the money exchanged hands, that was it. If I were to find that the Tommy Hilfiger shirt actually said something else or if my t-shirt said “abidas,” then that was on me. Tough luck, because as far as the store owner was concerned, he didn’t do anything illegal. He gave me something I wanted and if later I didn’t want it, then that’s my problem, not his.
We don’t have Yelp or Amazon reviews for these kinds of stores to alert other people. The only thing I can do is triple check the item before I hand over my hard-earned pesos and hope for the best.
Bribing the police is Standard Practice
The police will stop everyone eventually, and there are two ways to get around it. Get a ticket and pay it at the police station or pay the cop on the spot. Which to choose? Well, it depends. Sometimes it’s better just to get the ticket, but sometimes, if the cop clearly needs the money, he will be willing to give you a discount.
The first time I was stopped I was fourteen years old. I was driving what in America we would call a “farm-use-only” vehicle, but it was the anything-goes-mobile for my family. I went to do my regular route to pick up hay and rocks, and on my way back, a green-uniformed officer whistled and stopped me.
Cops in my country like to enter cars without permission to avoid being spotted receiving money in plain sight. Once inside the car, the cop then had to improvise on the spot as to why he stopped me. I was a teenager driving a plate-less farm truck and he said, “your car is too dirty; do you want a ticket or do you want to fix it here?” I was shocked to hear that accusation but also relieved it wasn’t a more serious one. I remember I gave him the equivalent of $0.50, and I thought it was a good deal because he originally asked me for $1.50, we also like to haggle in my country and even in bribes one has to try to get the best deal.
The Origin of your Food is not Clear
The one thing we got going on in third world countries is that our food is awesome. I am not here to question the deliciousness of our cuisine. I am here to tell personal experiences about specific instances, and the one I’m talking about here is when I would shop for food late at night in suspicious locations.
When I was a kid, I heard urban legends about the origins of certain food trucks' meat. However, I didn’t believe these stories; after all, how could food trucks manage to make burgers taste so good unless the best meat was coming from the best cows? But as several news channels would later discover, some vendors, maybe for environmental reasons or to save a buck, would use meat that wasn’t exactly raised on a farm. Did that news stop my friends and I from going to these places? Sure, for some time, but those burgers were still the bomb, and if anything, it added more mystery in our lives.
The funny thing is that I never knew what I was eating at the moment; it could have been anything, even beef, but I remember it tasted great. This sketchy meat was only served at low-tier street food stands, and coincidentally, those were the ones that had the best food.
We Barter Everything
When you really need money, you have to sell something of value or borrow actual money from someone else. We don’t have credit cards, so we can’t pay it later either. When you buy something, you either have the money to back it up or get something to trade.
I remember I used my bicycle as collateral multiple times when I didn’t have enough money to buy something. I would walk 45 minutes back home, get the rest of the money, and return to the store to get my bike back. I have done this several times with different items. Watches, Jewelry, IDs. If I wanted to buy something and I needed it right away, the only way to get it was to give something I physically had on me.
These kinds of transactions made life more interesting. I felt like there was value in my things, and I could trade based on that value. It was completely impractical, but I have fond memories of how I’d trade things in exchange for others when money was not enough.
