Archive for October, 2007
Greetings from Kampala!
My husband, Taylor and I have had an exciting and challenging first few weeks as we meet new people, learn about the culture, and try to navigate in a city of a million people, with 2 traffic lights total Peter, LiA’s staff member was the first to show us around. I thought we would get at “taxi,” meaning a driver in front and us in the back, I soon discovered that “taxis” were called Matatus. For anyone who has experienced this form of transportation, they can understand the deer in the headlights look as I boarded a small mini-bus packed with people while the conductor yelled at me in Luganda (their Ugandan language) and we were told to sit down in an open seat. Peter told me we would get off a few “stops” later. I’m thinking what stops, is there a schedule, how do you know which stop, how do I pay? Low and behold, you just yell when you want to get off, wherever that is along the way, and give the conductor a few hundred shillings for the ride. It’s really not a bad form of transportation, although the stops are frequent and can be long as they wait form more people to get on. Anyway, thank goodness Peter was there to guide us with our first “taxi” experience. As we rode, I sat in the back and was overwhelmed with the sites, the sounds, the smells, and the driving! My first experience on the streets of Uganda was not what I thought it would be, but in retrospect, we just jumped right in, which sometimes is the best way to go. We were exposed to the city all at once and experienced it they way most Ugandans do on a daily basis. I did not feel like a tourist, although being a “Muzungu” (white person), I stood out completely. We searched for housing for a week and were a bit picky because we will be here for about 9 months. That was actually a great way to learn about the city and surrounding areas. We opted to get a special hire (the taxi I was familiar with) in order to make use of time. We were thinking we could find a place in a few days. When we told that to our new Ugandan friends they laughed at us! Their concept of time, especially when apartment hunting, was obviously very different from ours, but fortunately within a week we found something great. We feel very comfortable with the Matatus now and are getting places on our own. In a few weeks the city has become smaller, but I don’t think I will ever get used to the driving. Our first journal experience was very meaningful. George, an Acholi and LiA member, took us to the Acholi Quarter, an Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp where he and other refugees from the conflict in the North live. It is an interesting dynamic because you are happy that the people who live there are safe and out of the war-torn northern Uganda, and yet it is hard to see the conditions that some of them live in. We met Beatrice and she invited us into her home, which consisted on two small spaces divided by a curtain. She had four small cushioned chairs, next to a small charcoal fire for cooking, and invited us to sit. As we unpacked our material a small crowd of beautiful little faces gathered outside her door wanting to see the Muzungus. Everyone just stared as we were trying to take it all in and do our job. As I looked at Beatrice, I saw a lovely woman who was probably my age and yet had been through more trials then I will ever face. She has 3 small children and takes care of one of her brothers. As we chatted, I was able to see that the loan she received changed her life, in a small but significant way. I have read so much about the “loans that change lives” and at that moment I felt so fortunate to be one of the few who gets to see it in person. Even though her conditions had not changed drastically, she had changes. There was now more food in the house, less sickness in her family, and an income generating business she could count on. For Beatrice, even the small chairs for visitors to sit on were a success for her, which she told us were bought with her income from the loan. There was a smile and a hope in her that things can change and dreams can get bigger; a hope that seems to keep many of them going. Beatrice also told us her hope is to someday return to the north and continue with her business; as peace continues and life gets better there. -Tamara …………………………………………. We have really enjoyed the last few weeks here in Kampala. We are learning a lot about Uganda and about how much of the world lives. We see an example of this every night as we walk back to our apartment. People gather at the bottom of a hill around a water tap and fill up their water jugs for the night. On their way back up the hill, they carry their 30 pound jugs right past some of the largest houses in Kampala. Last week, on my way back from a run, I decided to help a lady carry her jug to see what the experience was like. Half way up, I started to sweat profusely and had to stop to catch my breath. The lady giggled at me as I finally made it up the hill. I ran on my way, appreciating in new ways the simple luxury of running water. The highlight of our trip so far has been our visits to the Acholi Quarters, the IDP camp where most of the Life in Africa members live. As we walked towards the camp, little kids followed behind us shouting, “Muzungu, bye! Muzungu, bye!” Tamara took their pictures, which ignited their faces with huge smiles. Once we reached the Quarters, we were able to see people going about their daily routine of washing cloths, making crafts, cooking their food. Seeing the daily lives of the people in the community was eye-opening. The conditions were not squalid, but still, I couldn’t imagine staying in cramped spaces with no electricity or water. The experience left me with a mixture of gratitude and guilt for the daily comfort of my life back in the US. It made me think of a question a college professor once asked me, “If you knew you could give all your money to save another person’s life, would you?” Although I don’t believe that giving away all of your money away is the answer to solving poverty, I still struggle with question. How much should a person give? George showed us around the camp and welcomed us into his home to spend the afternoon. We chatted with him about his family, the sports he liked, and how he made his living making crafts to sell to the market. Sitting there, it was easy to forget that just several years earlier George had been subjected to a horrific war. He told us about his hope of resettling back to his village when the peace between the government and the LRA is more secure. I realized that the actual conflict and the psychological trauma wasn’t the only damage that the war created, the entire community lost literally everything. Before we left George’s house, he invited us to return on Sunday for a community celebration. Each month, every member of the community contributes 13,000 Shilling or about $8 dollars to a pool. The community then selects one person to give the money to. On the day the person receives the money, the community throws a huge party. We took him up his offer and went to the party yesterday. As we arrived to the Acholi Quarter at around 3:00pm, it started to rain heavily. We took shelter for the next 2 and a half hours as we listened to the howling wind and thud of rain against the tin roof. As the rain finally subsided and we emerged from the house, we saw the side of the neighboring house had caved in. George told us that the mud walls were giving way and that the whole house would soon collapse. We also discovered that the rain had caused two of the other houses to collapse. Fortunately, no one was hurt, but the vulnerability of the community was clearly exposed. People took a few hours to regroup after the rains and then the celebration commenced. In the beginning, everyone sat quietly in a community building filled with benches. George explained to me that they were waiting for the guests of honor to arrive, meaning the people that were received the money this month. Four ladies dressed in traditional African dress walked in. Before I knew it, loud music was blaring and a train of women were dancing around me. As the evening progressed, every person at the party, dancing the entire time, presented their gifts to the ladies of honor. Some brought money and others brought couches, chairs and pots. At one point, the whole crowd erupted into howls and danced as a group of young men brought in a goat, tossing it in the air. I have never experienced anything like that. On the same day that several houses in the small community had been destroyed, people were dancing and celebrating joyfully. I was amazed by the generosity, the interdependence and the resilience of the community, which was embodied in this simple tradition of sharing. -Taylor
Alinyikira: Continue Hard Work
It was not my intent to write so soon about another lending group, but I found a real gem in the Alinyikira Lending Group in the Village of Mutundwe, just on the outskirts of Kampala, Uganda.
To get to Mutundwe, you have to go to Old Taxi Park in the center of Kampala. This could be a story in itself, but in brief, it consists of approximately 10 acres of land jammed with matatoos: converted Toyota vans capable of handling 14 passengers. They all are white and look exactly the same. Thousands of riders are constantly converging on the park as market stands and walking vendors add to the already crowded site. You ask toll collectors and drivers which matatoo to Mutundwe, and they point to an area in the park. You keep moving and asking and soon you find a toll collector who directs you to specific matatoo. You get in and wait until it is full, then the driver hops in and you begin the exit. The van pushes past hundreds of people, marketers move their stands and other vans move forwards and backwards as your matatoo pushes on to exit the park.
Once on the road, you head out of town for almost an hour. Buildings become one story, then the buildings become shacks. You press on. It has rained and the muddy dirt road is closed. We take a different route, past wholesale lumber yards, mechanic shops, etc. We stop. There is a large crowd of people congregating around a very large puddle of water. Two vehicles are stuck in the middle, with water up to their doors. Everyone watches. Our driver waits to see another vehicle make it thru and he guns it and we push thru, creating a wave that rises up and rolls over all the people watching. They laugh and cheer. We’re thru and we press on. We come to a hill, with a muddy rut down the middle that causes us to lean steeply to the left. Bouncing and holding on we reach our destination: Mutundwe.
Susan, the senior credit officer for Pearl is with me. We get out and start walking along a muddy path till we comes to a small store. There I meet Janet. Janet owns the store which almost exclusively sells products for baking: flour, salt, sugar, yeast, cooking oil, etc. I find it odd that she can make a living just selling bakers products. I will soon learn why.
Janet is the chairperson and one of the founding members of the Alinyikira Lending Group. Alinyikira means ‘continue hard work’. Again, I will also soon learn why.
Janet takes us to visit the members at their place of business. First we go to her house. Tied to a tree next to her front door, a calf is resting. We enter and immediately are introduced to Samuel and Resty, two members of the group. Samuel is 58 and raises 600 layers. He has had a lifetime experience managing hens. He recently built a second story on his hen house behind his home to double the number of hens. He is a small, but rugged looking man and very gentle in nature. Resty is a pistol. Filled with energy, she runs a rental catering business.
We leave the house and all go to visit the other members businesses. Each time more join and follow. It soon becomes apparent how close in friendship all the members of the group are. They gain strength from one another. For several hours we wander thru the village. There are no roads only paths. It has rained and it is muddy. If we go to a person’s home, Janet calls out and without hesitation goes in. All are happy to see each other and are excited by my visit. I interview and take a picture of them. There is no problem.
I soon became aware that this community is known for its baking, cooking and catering services, and also its poultry and nut grinding. Odd combination. But often if one person is successful in a business, others follow and all are happy. If the village is close to a large city, like Kampala, their village will become known for specific trades and all competing in that trade will benefit from the recognition. It also helps in distribution of goods. Janet for example can have a business that just sells baking goods to bakers in her community.
To me the most enjoyable part is the people, and the members of the Alinyikira Lending Group all are very hard working people. As Janet told me, the hard work helps to make them happy.
Beneath Samoa’s tranquil surface
After tossing out some statistics on the poverty situation in Samoa in my first entry, I think I’m ready for a more personal take on the impact of impact of micro-credit and the overall economic situation in Samoa.
South Pacific Business Development is one of Kiva’s earliest partner microfinance institutions. With an entire staff of just 16 employees (including management), the institution covers over 2,000 active clients, whose loans total over $700,000. SPBD follows the original Grameen Bank model by administering its loans via borrowing groups. With very few exceptions, all of its clients are women.
My first field visit was to accompany Tafauga, one SPBD’s 8 loan officers, to a client group meeting at the Leauvaa village, where I was to take Kiva profile photos for members of a newly-formed borrowing group. As we maneuvered along ever-narrowing roads towards the village center, I glanced outside the passenger window and was strangely transported back to my early childhood. Hazy memories of my brief times spent in the rural Chinese countryside were stirred up as I watched pigs, chickens, and dogs roam free alongside the road. In contrast, the lush vegetation and towering palm trees provided an exotic tropical twist that I’ve never encountered before in my life.
We soon arrived at the meeting, which took place in a large open fale (fah-leh). Fales are the traditional housing units of Samoa, and are common even today among locals and tourists alike. Their lack of walls, external or internal, is designed to maximize the flow of cool breezes in the hot climate, but also neatly reflects the importance of family and community in Samoan culture. Makeshift blinds are used only in times of heavy storms, and wandering dogs and livestock regularly require shooing off during the night. I’m quite glad to be living in a western-style house myself, as it will take nothing short of a demolition crew to take my precious walls from me!
The meeting itself was a total blast. The ladies, most of whom were middle-aged, were extremely welcoming and had great senses of humor. The eldest among them were also the most outgoing, and they were completely unabashed in immediately asking me for my marital status. After confirming that I was single, they would jokingly flirt and titter amongst themselves in Samoan, making many off-color jokes (as Tafauga later told me). Meanwhile, I was running around snapping pictures, a goofy grin on my face, feeling like I was at a fashion shoot. Most of the ladies really seemed to enjoy having their photos taken, and I even had a few request for multiple shots, each one for a different pose.
Since my eye-opening first visit, I have been to several other client group meetings. These visits have been to accompany various loan officers on their actual payment-collection rounds, and I soon realized that my first foray did nothing to prepare me for these utterly grueling outings. Leaving the office usually just after 9am, the loan officers rarely complete their rounds before 4pm. Many meetings are conducted in fales with no chairs, where everyone is expected to sit cross-legged (it is considered rude to point your feet towards the center of the meeting). After a few accumulated hours in this position, I was having difficulty standing back up! It is amazing to watch only 8 officers cover over 2,000 clients around the island on a weekly basis, and I have gained a great amount of respect for their tremendous hard work.
After a couple of weeks of field visits, I am beginning to better grasp the island’s complex socioeconomic condition. Most notably, I was never struck by a sense of overwhelming poverty and destitution in the same way that many of my fellow Kiva Fellows in other countries have described in their blogs. There were no dilapidated slums, no starving infants, and street begging is extremely rare. The strong social support from tightly-knit communities, combined with the extremely fertile island soil and an abundance of livestock, has meant that the vast majority of the population does not experience the severest of hardships, such as starvation or homelessness. The literacy rate is at an astronomical 99.7% (due largely to the support of education by the church) and life expectancy is at 71 years.
Despite the lack of desperation-level poverty, the continuing prevalence of subsidence living reveals several deep underlying issues. The strong sense of community that I described earlier presents a truly double-edged sword. The same support system that takes care of the lazy, disabled, and powerless members of society also means that domestic breadwinners will often have to support large extended families. A system of communal ownership, combined with a lack of rewards for individual effort, can effectively stifle individual initiative and broader economic development. Fa’alavelave, lavish gift-exchange ceremonies that accompany weddings, funerals, and church openings, are great fun to attend, but can drain months’ worth of funds in an instance. At church, families compete against each other to see who can donate the most money, as the amount given by each family is called out and recorded during service. Often, families give more than they can afford in order to maintain their social standing. All these obligations tend to add up quickly, and many families struggle along life without hope of ever gaining financial independence.
Compounding the problem is that, like many other Pacific Island nations, the presence of poverty tends to be hushed up. Before arriving here, I had no idea of the harsh economic conditions. From my impression and conversations with locals and fellow expatriates, unemployment has been rising for quite some time, while the cost of living is steadily creeping up, resulting in more and more families becoming dependent on financial remittances from relatives abroad (total transfers having reached an estimated $57.9 million already in 2002). There has not been much effort from the government, at least from my limited perspective, to combat the problem. Hopefully in time, the proud island nation will realize that its cultural richness and breathtaking natural beauty cannot serve as a substitute for economic self sufficiency.
All of this makes Kiva and SPBD’s efforts all the more important. It has been so encouraging to see the spirited persistence these enterprising ladies as they seek to build a financially-liberated future for themselves and their children. I am truly glad to be part of it all.
The Women of Rabaga
Rabaga is a district of Kampala, Uganda. It rests on the slope of a hill. Within Rabaga and hidden from the street by small store fronts is an area referred to as a slum. Indeed, it may be a slum, but it is not without a strong sense of community: made stronger by the women who belong to the Rabaga Women’s Lending Group. They meet once a week but their spirit permeates their community daily. They are leaders who wish to make a difference in their community. And, they all own businesses within this area.
I went to attend the group meeting with my translator, Herbert. As we entered the district (there is no problem regarding safety, the people are very welcoming), Herbert went to a small shack, perhaps 10 x 15, and entered behind two cooking pots heated by charcoal. A roof of corrugated steel hangs over the entrance. Two women are attending the pots and a number of naked babies wander and play in front. Behind the pots is a small opening thru which Herbert disappeared. I, loitering only briefly to say my hello’s, did not notice his quick disappearance. In an instant, he was gone. When I noticed there was a group behind the opening, I went in.
Herbert was already greeting the seated women. Inside there were two tables about the size of picnic tables. Against the wall, facing the room, sat the council of five women. In the middle was the Credit Officer. All the women sat very closely together, as the room was small. They were very much as one, and the business of the day was well underway. On the tables each person had a lending booklet to keep tabs of their account. In total there were 18 women in the small shack.
As mentioned, Herbert was addressing the women as I entered. He was in the back facing the council leaders. They all were speaking in Luganda, but many English words sprinkled the conversation, though I could not make out anything until Herbert said “Douglas”. That must be my cue. (They call be Douglas because when I arrived in Uganda, I introduced myself as Doug but they found that strange. So, I tried Douglas and have had no problem sense.)
I rose and thanked them for allowing me to observe, told them about why I was there: “I represent an organization that helps to connect lenders to people who have businesses like yourselves”. Herbert stopped me often, to interpret. “Hmm. Hmm” the women would comment. They were very focused. I continued. “I am very pleased to be with you” “Hmm. Hmm”, they replied. A few more pleasantries followed by hmm, hmms and I sat down. The meeting went on.
At the end of the meeting, Herbert said that now we will go and visit their businesses. With this we entered the heart of the district. Rabaga doesn’t so much embrace you as it does engulf you. Almost immediately you become “lost” as you wind and turn along narrow paths. Huts of brick, adobe, wood and corrugated steel are tightly woven together. At every turn people are standing by cooking pots fueled by charcoal, digging trenches or building structures. Just as quickly as you see them you make another turn and they are gone.
For the next 4-5 hours, we walked and visited. Most of the women in group went along quite interested in what was happening. When we would enter a hut, only large enough for 2-3 people, the others stayed outside, occasionally looking in. They did not discuss a lot among themselves, for they were intent on what was happening. This was a business meeting and they treated it as such.
The women had no problem answering all of my questions: how old are you, are you single, married, widowed (many are widowed, due to AID’s), how many children do you care for, (often 6-10: 3 to 6 of their own and almost always an additional 2-4 of brothers and sisters who have died). How large was your loan ( these loans are in the range of $175.00), how do you plan to use the loan, what are your dreams for the future (with this they always smile, for they do have dreams) often it is to own their own home (10 x 10 hut) and they want their children to go to school with uniforms. It is all very business like and they treat the process with a high degree of respect.
It is quite a rewarding experience to interview these women on sucn a candid level. It should be noted that only a few thought they might like to one day leave this area of Rabaga. This is their home, where they raise their children and have their friends. They do not see themselves anywhere else, only to improve their lives in Rabaga. Rabaga is a strong united community due in part because of these determined women.
