Archive for December, 2007
Sad Goodbyes
I can’t believe my work here is almost coming to an end! It feels like just yesterday (or a couple days ago) that I was getting off the plane in Maputo – uncertain, nervous, and excited as to what this entire experience would be like. I still remember flipping over and over (and over) again through my copy of all of FDM´s Kiva clients, wondering what it would be like to meet them face to face. In fact, I looked at those pictures so many times that every time I met a client, I could literally see their picture and their description in my mind.
I met a client the other day who I found truly amazing. Not only was she incredibly warm, inviting, and generous, but I have absolutely NO idea how she does what she does everyday. She teaches primary school in the mornings, runs her business as a very successful seamstress in the afternoons (she has clients that leave orders with her from all across Mozambique), and travels to the capital of Maputo every night to take classes so she can start teaching secondary school. Yet, what I admired most about her was what she calls her most cherished and long held dream, hoping one day to open her own primary school to serve the local impoverished children. Education, she tells me, is the most important component to developing the area and creating a stronger Mozambique, and she dreams of a better future for her children and the next generations. She already has the course materials prepared, and has a step by step plan to realize her goal. As she explains, she first hopes to open the school at her home early next year until she has saved enough to purchase an old, abandoned home nearby to set up a proper school there. She projects that she will be able to begin enrolling students in January and hopes to open the school by the end of that month! Additionally, her husband is a disabled war veteran and she currently supports her children entirely with the profits from her business and current salary as a teacher. Needless to say, the women here never cease to amaze me, and I’ll miss having the opportunity to meet women like her everyday when I go home in a couple weeks.
At the same time, some of the most telling and moving experiences have come from meeting clients of FDM who are not on the Kiva website (for everyone one Kiva client, I usually accompany the loan officer when they visited two others for FDM). There was one client in particular who is no longer receiving loans from FDM because she has put her business on hold, but the promotora wanted to stop by and visit nonetheless. She has been sick for quite a while now, almost six months, and when she went to the local clinic (the one and only time) they simply told her that it was malaria and sent her back home. While she received some general form of treatment, she her health has been getting worse and she was forced to stop her business selling charcoal and can no longer pay for loans. Her promotora tells me that there are days that she will stop by and the client can’t even get out of bed, and while she keeps telling her to go the clinic and take an HIV test, her client has yet to take her advice – not because of the cost but because she’s too frightened to go. We sit down to talk for an hour or so as the loan officer reminds her again to go to the hospital, seek the tests and the treatments she needs if not for herself, but for her son who has no one else if something were to happen to her. It truly touched me to see how much the loan officer cared, how much she wanted her old client to get better and see her healthy, happy, and doing well. Her client finally tells her that she will go next week, her usual answer, and as we walk back to the main road to catch our next bus to take us to our next client, I’m left to wonder what will happen to her and her young son if she doesn’t get better.
This entire experience has left me irreversibly changed and the lessons I´ve learned I will carry with me the rest of my life. Sure there are a couple moments I would rather forget. For example, I have helped push chapas out of ditches, shared the back of trucks with goats and other various livestock, and waded through puddles of mud (and trash) 10 inches deep, but I would trade any of these experiences for anything. The women I´ve met her have inspired me to be a stronger person (literally – as Roslyn describes, women three times my age have skipped past me balancing buckets of water or multiple sacks of potatoes on their heads) as well as reassess my understanding of what it means to be successful and what it takes to be happy. I can honestly say that all the clients I have met have been nothing but gracious, warm, and have welcomed me into their homes like members of their own family. Without a second thought, they share much cherished information not only about their businesses, but about their children, their hardships, and their dreams for the future. During our talks, one of the best moments usually comes at the end – when I take their picture. Some simply smile, some strike a well practiced pose, some run into their homes first to change and fix their hair, and other gather their children and spouses to make it a family shot. After, I always show them the picture I’ve taken on my digital camera, and every single time, without fail, they´re positively beaming. I tell them that the picture is beautiful, and they laugh and can´t help but agree.
What will I miss most? Without out a doubt, I will miss being able to wake up every morning knowing that I will meet people that day who I will say goodbye to ever-so-slightly, but forever changed. I will miss working with the promotoras who have taught me what it means to work hard and live a life doing something you love to do. Not to mention the fact that FDM is simply an amazing organization. I just now realize that I’ve have yet to mention FDM´s administrative head, Ana Maria, who will always my role model, the person I will strive to emulate – ceaselessly diligent, intelligent, and devoted to the organization (and the workers and clients here at FDM respect and adore her). She is currently spearheading innovative projects to further serve FDM’s clients which include agricultural initiatives where they will begin selling plots of cultivated land next year for clients to run their own farms as well as plans to begin training rural clients in cattle raising. I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity to work with all three of FDM´s different offices, and have every intention of returning to Mozambique one day to visit and maybe even work them again.
I was told before I left that when the time would come to leave, I would want to say and I can honestly say that that person was right. I feel like there’s so much more to learn, so many more things to experience, more inspiring people to meet, and so much more I could do, but sadly I’ve been postponing school and my classes long enough.
It’s been an incredible, strange, difficult, exhilarating, and life-changing experience and I want to thank Kiva and Kiva´s wonderful lenders for having given me the opportunity to take this adventure.
Also, I have no idea if they will ever read this, but time to give a shout-out to all the workers of FDM that have made this experience so incredible – Ana Maria, Leopoldina, Esmeralda, Don, Bridgette, Margarida, Sandra, Rosalina, Suzette, Minarsanda, Ricardina, Edineria, Dercia, Jamie, Francisco, Ricardo, Arcenia, Madalena, Lidia, Rosa, Nelizarda, Elina, Ermelinda, Arcenia, Benevenita, Irenia, Simoes, Ilda, Ana, Zelia, Brito, Roda, Deocleciana, Esmeralda, Eulalia, Ana, Marta, Adelso, Carmelia, and Manuela! I will miss you all so much, and thank you.
Finally, while this will be my last blog from Mozambique, inspired by Drew Kinder´s wonderful write-up on Sam, I will be doing the same by giving you all a glimpse into the history of Fundo de Desenvolvimento da Mulher and their amazing Executive Director, Ana Maria. I regret to say I don´t have the amazing specifics that Drew provided in his own blog, but I will try my best to do FDM and Ana Maria justice and reveal a little more of what makes FDM such a powerful organization.
What I learned
It was 3 months ago that I stepped off the plane and into the tropical Samoan rain. It seems those same storm clouds have gathered on my last day on the island to see me off. Over the course of my stay, I’d like to think that I learned a few of things.
I’ve learned of the incredible dedication and hard-work it takes for the staff of a small MFI like SPBD to run its operations.
I’ve learned that despite their demanding daily schedules, the SPBD staff rarely shows signs of stress or frustration. I think I’ll have a better chance of mastering the Samoan language in my remaining hours here than encountering a similar work environment back in North America.
I’ve learned that I have yet to scratch the surface of understanding the complex Pacific way of life. The faa Samoa is a riddle, wrapped in a conundrum, wrapped in taro leaves.
I’ve learned how to snorkel, how to change a tire, and how to subsist on an alternating diet of corned beef and Yellowfin tuna. I’m not yet sure how useful that last bit will prove to be.
I’ve learned that, despite not having any international volunteering experience prior to this, I was able to survive for three months in a country many of my friends have never heard of before.
I’ve learned to appreciate how lucky I am to not have to worry about running water or working electricity. One of the great perks of travel is that it often provides a measure of perspective on your own life.
And finally, I’ve learned that that the loans made through Kiva are helping the proud women of Samoa to take advantage of their talents and resourcefulness. It’s been a real honour to have helped out in any way.
Tofa Soifua
Mirembe Youth Development Project
Kampala, Uganda Florence Kaluuba is a soft spoken 50 year old school principal who won’t accept no for an answer.
As a teenager she was a brilliant student, excelling in mathematics. At a time when she ranked 8th out of 160 students, her uncle refused to allow her to enroll in the next higher grade level, where she hoped to become a medical doctor. Florence still remembers his words, “She is a girl, and girls just get pregnant anyway”. The uncle decided she would train to be a primary school teacher, which required much less education.
Florence enrolled in primary school teacher training, where, not surprisingly, she finished at the top of her class. She subsequently taught at two of the leading primary schools in Kampala. After a number of years, Florence wished to move up to high school but she lacked the requisite degree. Undeterred, Florence studied the four year curriculum in her free time and passed the qualifying exams without ever entering a classroom. Later, she earned a degree in Management with honors through correspondence from Cambridge University.
Florence founded Mirembe School in response to a 1996 study entitled “Why girls drop out of school and defilement of adolescent girls”. In the course of our interview, the term defilement was used to variously describe the rape of young girls by a brother, a father, and a teacher.
The goal of Mirembe School is to equip youth with developmental education for employment and life skills for survival. The students are almost exclusively girls from age 15-19 who have dropped out of school due to pregnancy and have been ostracized by their parents and family.
Florence and her small staff train the girls to be nursery school teachers, tailors, craft makers, or elementary school teachers (if they have enough formal education). In Uganda, nursery school teachers are given lodging and allowed to bring their children to school, which is an important benefit for these destitute young mothers.
Her belief is that no youth is a failure. She provides counseling as well as training. She promotes sexual abstinence to reduce pre-marital sex, unwanted pregnancy and abortion. Students are given information to reduce the risk of HIV/AIDS and sexually transmitted disease. Florence works hard to restore their spiritual and traditional values.
Florence will not reject a young girl, no matter what her ability to pay. Even though Mirembe charges far less tuition than other programs such as the YMCA/YWCA, most of her girls cannot afford to pay. If she is lucky, monthly tuition from current and former students covers the rent.
The remainder of school overhead is paid by Florence out of her paycheck. She works as a contract social worker for the office of the wife of the President of Uganda. Florence conducts seminars and trains teenage counselors to conduct “peer to peer” counseling of other teenagers.
This week, Florence paid the final installment on a $1200 loan from Kiva through Share an Opportunity Microfinance Ltd. She borrowed the money to purchase a desktop computer, scanner and copier. The loan payment came out of her paycheck earned the previous week.
Florence reported the computer has been very important to the school. She not only trains students on it, but she also uses it to scan photos and print teaching materials; services which were previously outsourced at a high cost.
Florence has written a book, The Joy of Parenting, the first copy of which was typed, scanned and printed on the new computer. She hopes to publish 3,000-4,000 copies of the book with the help of the Children’s Writers Association. She will keep 1,000 copies for the school and sell the balance to generate income.
Florence will not abandon her students. Once, when money was tight, and she was considering closing the school, students came to her home tearfully begging her to continue. She looked me in the eye and said “I can’t stop now”.
Since its inception, the Mirembe School has graduated 500 girls, many of whom call Florence “mother”.
When I asked her what he dream in life is, she replied a bigger school, with no rent, in a quiet area where more girls can be nurtured and trained.
Her challenges are a steadily growing flock of defiled girls, the monthly rent check, a need for more counselors to share her emotional burden, and finding financial partners and supporters.
In her personal life, Florence has corrected the inequities of her own childhood. She is one of 13 children in a polygamous marriage involving 2 wives. Her mother, who was the second wife, was dropped. Florence was sent away to live with her father’s father, a tribal chieftain in northern Uganda.
Florence is happily married to her husband of 25 years, a university professor in electrical engineering. Of their five children, the oldest boy is an engineer and the oldest girl, who inherited her mother’s love of mathematics, studies statistics at Makerere University, Uganda’s leading university. The younger children are in high school.
As I said goodbye to Florence, my impression of this soft spoken woman with a soft spot in her heart for defenseless young girls is that she is as tough as nails. Somehow, some way, Florence will find a way to make the Mirembe Youth Development Project and the Mirembe School continue. This is not a woman who takes no for an answer.
Florence Kaluuba can be reached at mirembeyod@yahoo.co.uk.
Ayacucho
Ayacucho, Peru has a sad story. In the 80s and early 90s, it was there that the terrorist group Sendero Luminoso, ‘the Shining Path’, was thriving, fighting political and social battles that left 30,000 dead and 40,000 who remain missing. Setting foot in Ayacucho today, you’d never guess its painful history, and although not opposed to talking about it, the locals rarely mention it without being asked.
On a client visit, riding in the back of a moto-taxi through the bustling life of Ayacucho, we head out past the cobblestone streets and abundant colonial churches of the beautiful city, and cross over to the pothole-ridden dirt roads that run parallel to shanty houses where men are building adobe bricks that lay out in the sun to dry. The promotora (loan officer) I am with leans over to me and whispers ‘this is where the Shining Path had their graveyard’. The land we are driving over served as a dumping ground for bodies just 15 years ago. The terrorists would dispose of bodies without a care, dumping one on top of the other in the open air, left to rot with the company of thousands of other innocent victims. Families missing loved ones would travel to this site and dig through bodies, having given up hope of finding their loved ones alive, but clinging to the hope of identifying their body and giving them a proper burial.
Today the Shining Path is virtually extinct, although occasional outbursts have occurred. Ayacucho is rebuilding their city and their culture day by day, with homes and roads covering the old graveyard, but the tragedy of the recent decades is still very present. With 40,000 people still unaccounted for, most residents of the city have friends or family members directly affected by the terrible events that changed their lives forever.
The air here is different, and I’m not sure if it’s the history of the town I now know, or the fallen souls breathing their stories, asking me to listen, but it has my attention, and I am listening. I take advantage of this open communication to ask the promotora a question that’s been riding heavy on my heart since starting my fellowship with Kiva. Although one hundred percent certain that Kiva is making an incredible difference in the lives of not only the entrepreneurs, but the lenders as well, I can’t help but wonder what the men and women think about having their lives publicized and broadcast for the world to see; I wonder if they privately feel it’s an invasion. I ask the promotora, holding my breath for her answer, fearing she will say yes, but instead, she smiles and becomes overcome with joy. ‘Maren,’ she says, ‘I understand your concern, it is valid, but you have to understand something. These women have been forgotten by the world, their country, their community. No one notices them, no one cares. They are invisible. The idea that someone, especially the intangible concept of someone they’ve never met, has taken an interest in them and wants to know their story and share in their life, well it’s just an indescribable joy.’
Her answer brings tears to my eyes, and I feel a sense of justification and love for what I’m a part of here. She goes on to tell me that Finca has given them a chance when no one else would. These women trust Finca, when others have taken advantage, and it shows. When you first knock at their door, they are hesitant to talk to a strange person, very reserved and ready with excuses for not being able to talk. But the second they hear the word Finca, their eyes light up as if to say ‘why didn’t you say so?!’, and they invite you in as family, eager to share their world with a new friend.
One woman I met shared a very intimate story with me. Her father had beaten her mother severely for years and years, in the presence of their eight children. Her mother had every piece of strength beaten out of her and was left defenseless, living her life in submission and pain. Fourteen years ago, her husband left her for a younger woman, and although a blessing that there was no more abuse, she was left with no money, no job, no strength, and the responsibility of raising eight children alone. Because she had no capital, she had no chance of getting help from a regular bank. She was referred to Finca, and with faith they gave her a small loan, and bit-by-bit she pulled her family out of the sudden poverty in which they’d found themselves. Not only was she able to become financially self-sufficient, but Finca also taught her how to believe in herself, how to remain strong in the presence of weakness, how to love and respect, and how to raise her children to do the same. They taught her how to live, not just survive. Two years ago, her husband came back. Somehow she found the strength to forgive him and welcome him home, but according to her rules. She lives happily now with him, living with the values that Finca taught her and staying strong, free of abuse, both emotional and physical.
Hearing this story and the reaffirming words of the promotora, both coming from a city that so recently was darkened by terrorism and hatred, gives me hope and faith for a world with so much darkness. Good can come from evil, hope from desperation, love from hate, and life from death. I’m not sure exactly what to do with that yet, but the realization is a start…
FAQ’s
Friends and family have asked about the mundane details of my life as a Kiva Fellow in Uganda. “Where do you live?”and “What is your job?” are two frequently asked questions (FAQ’s).
Where I live:
I am a resident of the Kolping Guest House on Bombo Road in the Bwaise neighborhood of Kampala. The Kolping is part of a worldwide chain of guesthouses operated by the International Kolping Society which was founded by Adolph Kolping as a Catholic, educational and action-oriented organization. Fr. Kolping was born on December 8, 1813, in Kerpen, a small village not far from Cologne. There are Kolping houses all across the globe, including one in the Manhattan and many in Europe and Africa.
I like this place for a number of reasons;
· It is incredibly clean, which has more than a little appeal after returning from a dusty day in Kampala and the surrounding countryside. The Kolping has a full time cleaning staff, but when the other employees have a free moment, they also find something to clean. I recently saw one of the dining room staff gently bathing the leaves of a potted plant on the terrace, removing dust that had gone unnoticed by me, but not by the Kolping staff.
· It is quiet and spacious. Kampala is a bustling city of over a million people. My mode of transportation is the ubiquitous 14 passenger taxi vans that ply most of the main roads. I’ve gotten accustomed to having my 6’2” frame jammed into a crowded, un-air conditioned van, often stalled in heavy traffic, in hot, steamy weather.
My room at the Kolping is quiet and my balcony overlooks a grassy courtyard set back several hundred yards from the noise and fumes of Bombo Road. At the end of the day I enjoy relaxing on the balcony, sipping a cold Bell beer, and quietly reflecting on the events of the day. At dawn I am awakened by the Muslim call to prayer broadcast from a nearby mosque, and I enjoy watching birds fly by as the sun rises over the hills of Kampala.
· 
The Kolping has a restaurant, which is a major consideration for a clueless husband like me who has not cooked for himself in over 30 years. I start the day with a complimentary breakfast of 2 eggs, toast, fruit, juice and hot brewed coffee. I often eat dinner there also, ordering from a non-controversial menu that agrees with my American digestive system.
· The TV in my room is inoperative and the TV in the restaurant is permanently tuned to an English soccer game, which I generally ignore, unless I am really bored. This is good. One my the goals on this trip is to wean myself from the 24 hour TV news/sports cycle back home. That shouldn’t be a problem at the Kolping House.
What I do at work: Back in October, when I was given access to the Kiva training material, I quickly paged through the documents looking for a Fellows job description. There wasn’t one. The duties of a Kiva Fellow are largely undefined to allow for maximum flexibility once we arrive at our overseas destination. Essentially, we are assigned to a Microfinance Institution (MFI) to make the relationship between the MFI and Kiva run as smoothly as possible. The role of the Kiva Fellow varies according to the needs of the MFI.
In my case, I sat down with the manager Share an Opportunity (SAO) for four hours on my first day at work. We talked about the history of the business and the most pressing needs of the organization. Based on that conversation, I was able to create five objectives to accomplish prior to my departure on February 20, 2008.
Objective #1. To visit all 45 entrepreneurs in the Kiva/ SAO portfolio, and visit at least six SAO branded SACCO’s (Savings and Credit Cooperative Societies), out of a total of fourteen , for the purpose of collecting information, and writing and publishing journals for the Kiva website.
This is one of the few formal Kiva requirements. It serves three purposes;
1. It acts as field audit to confirm that the money loaned by Kiva lenders actually went to the person shown on the website and that the loan is being repaid.
2. It provides feed back in the form of Journals which are published on the Kiva website and are emailed to every lender who funded the Kiva loan.
3. It helps me learn about microfinance at the grass roots level.
Objective #2: Help create and execute a new SAO product; “Business Skills Training Course” targeted to existing and potential direct borrowing clients.
a. Review development of the program to date
b. Finish the written program and prepare presentation materials by mid-December.
c. Promote “Business Skills Seminars” to SAO customers and prospects in December
d. Schedule seminars and participate in presentations in Jan/Feb
e. Train SAO personnel to conduct subsequent seminars after I leave
Objective #3: Help create a stand-alone website for SAO MF distinct and separate from SAO Uganda
a. Familiarize myself with the customer requirements of SAO clients.
b. Review the current SAO Uganda website for useful content.
c. Design new content and user –friendly website architecture for the new site.
d. Launch a new website by 15 Feb, 2008
Objective #4: To assist SAO MF in obtaining sources of funding to compliment KIVA’s funding, so that KIVA represents no more than 30% of SAO’s funding as of 15 Feb, 2008.
Objective #5: Review and revise the SAO Business Plan/Strategic Plan by 30 Jan 2008.
a. Review existing Strategic Plan
b. Make suggestions based on practical experience with SAO customers and SAO staff
c. Integrate suggestions, if accepted, into Business Plan
Just about everything I do during the workday relates to accomplishing one of those objectives.
In addition, Kiva recently asked me to train another Microfinance Institution that recently became a Kiva partner in Uganda. I will be delivering that briefing on Saturday, December 15. If this account requests additional support, I will follow up as directed by Kiva.
That pretty much answers my FAQ’s.
Microfinance Plus-Plus
Kampala, Uganda I’m learning there is more to microfinance than simply loaning money to poor people. My boss at Share an Opportunity (SAO) took me on a field trip to Ngogwe, a village about 40 miles outside of Kampala, to show me what he calls “Microfinance Plus-Plus”.
The elements of SAO’s “Microfinance Plus-Plus” are;
1. Rural Development. SAO focuses on rural development, where 90% of Ugandans live and work. Improving economic opportunities in the countryside reduces the incentive for urban migration, which is a serious problem throughout Africa. As you can see from this picture, the streets of downtown Ngogwe are not exactly clogged with traffic. I found this to be a beautiful area. Lush and green, with red topsoil and abundant rainfall, Ngogwe appears to have the potential to support a robust agricultural economy.
2. Enterprise Solutions. SAO encourages “enterprise solutions” to agricultural planning, 
value addition and collective marketing of crops as opposed to subsistence farming by individuals.
Share an Opportunity helped form a Community Based Organization (CBO), called the “Ngogwe Integrated Community Development Association”. Made up primarily of local farmers working on very small plots of land, the association encourages its members to focus on maize (corn) production. Maize is well adapted, and with two harvests a year, it is an excellent “cash crop”. Demand from drought-stricken Kenya and war-torn Sudan is good, and worldwide corn prices have strengthened in competition with ethanol.
I found this hand lettered statement of principles on the wall in the CBO office.
3. Savings Mentality. Share an Opportunity trains borrowers to save rather than spend when times are good. Poverty reduction requires savings, but villagers often spend all they take in. I saw this poster in the SACCO (Savings and Credit Cooperative Society) office, illustrating the benefit of saving for educational expenses.
4. 
Value Addition. The SACCO loaned money to the Community Based Organization (CBO) to build and operate processing and storage facilities that add value to the crop, thus maximizing financial return to the community. With SAO’s help, the SACCO financed the purchase of two hammer mills used to transform dry corn into corn flour, increasing the value of the crop 200-300%. They also loaned money for the storage facility shown in this picture. This storehouse enables the accumulation of a large enough quantity of corn flour to attract wholesale buyers and allows the CBO to withhold product from the market when prices are low.
5. 
Best Practices. SAO informs farmers of the latest and best agronomic practices. Through the SACCO, they finance crop inputs such as improved seed and fertilizer. Increased production per acre and improved soil fertility reduces the “slash and burn” practice of clearing virgin land, using it for two crops (one year), and then abandoning the land as treeless scrub. This picture shows “Tall 6” hybrid corn, a variety developed by Ugandan plant breeders. Properly fertilized, this variety will produce high yields on the same plot of ground year after year.
6. Retained Earnings. The money earned in Ngogwe is saved and loaned within the community, again and again; providing the foundation for future growth and more poverty reduction. This picture shows a new classroom and dormitory building at the Ngogwe private school financed with a loan from the Ngogwe SACCO.
The benefits of microfinance are plain to see in Ngogwe:
This is just one village in a country the size of Oregon. Share and Opportunity is just one of many Microfinance Institutions in Uganda.
As “Microfinance Plus Plus” is repeated hundreds and thousands of times across Uganda, you can envision a more stable country with less poverty, less urban migration, less environmental damage, and greater food security for its people.
Swahili Blunders
Learning more about Tanzanian culture has been a fascinating journey thus far. Like most things in life, the more I learn, the more I discover how little I know. As my relationships slowly deepen with my colleagues at Tujijenge Tanzania and with other new friends, I’m beginning to gradually pick up more insights into their culture– their high values of community and unity, and how everything seems to happen according to the belief “if God wills” –a phrase used frequently in everyday interactions (and especially to explain the common occurrence of when things don’t happen as planned).
One of my favorite parts of the day is chatting with staff at the office during lunch and tea times. My translator (a woman in her fifties) and I are now on a level of friendship where we can swap stories that amuse each other due to our cultural differences. I am shocked by her stories about polygamy and witchcraft, and other intriguing topics. Among many other things, she is shocked at my American interaction with my parents, finding it hard to believe that I no longer have to ask permission to stay a night at a friend’s, etc. She also laughs at my “indifference” toward my current wardrobe– a mixture of traditional Tanzanian wear and some typical American business-casual. She has nicely pointed out to me which clothes she thinks look “bad” on me. Ironically enough, her favorites are my western clothes– the ones that conceal my efforts to try to fit in culturally. They are also the clothes that (for some strange reason) make me look really young here and have often given me the “student discount” when riding public transportation!!
While I have been trying to pick up the language, I have had many moments of embarrassment in this difficult process. Here are a few of my Swahili blunders for you to enjoy:
- Once, I told my translator in a van taxi to “sit on her butt.” After she and the entire van laughed at my ignorant rudeness, I learned that this phrase was falsely indicated as being proper in my Say it in Swahili book.
- Another time in a van taxi, instead of asking a client if he had a wife, I accidentally used a word that would generally mean an “old woman.” As if this wasn’t bad enough, in this specific context, I found out that I was really asking him if he had a “mistress.” Although forgiving of my blunder, he understandably didn’t want to answer any more of my questions in the crowded vehicle!!
- One time, out on the field, I unknowingly asked a client if she could “manage her husband.”
- On the way to work one morning, a guy walking past on the road joked with me that I was his “mchumba” or fiancé. At the time, I mistook the word for “chumba” meaning “room,” and so nicely agreed with him, thinking he was referring to something about the location of where I lived. He responded overly happy, so when I reached the office, I had someone clear the confusion for me. Fortunately, I haven’t run into him again since!
- This past Thursday at the office, I accidentally told a client, “Please, sit down on your one, small bottom.”
I have quickly learned in these past two months that Tanzanians are not only friendly, but they are very forgiving as well. For my sake (and for Kiva’s reputation!!), you should be happy to know that I have just started taking weekly Swahili lessons! My tutor, a neighbor of mine, is a government-paid teacher who holds a master’s degree but has yet to earn a salary indicating this credential. To support his family, he and his wife constantly search for additional odd jobs to get by– a common story I have encountered here.
Mpaka baadaye “until next time,” Dana
Preparing A Loom
So…with our MFI (Maxima), we visit a lot of people who make a living by weaving cloth. With extant samples of hand-woven cloth dating from 5000 BC, weaving must be one of the world’s oldest ways to make money.
More than two hundred years ago, the Industrial Revolution introduced processes that, to this day, have passed by the villages and the people we visit. The looms that Maxima’s clients use are hand-made and the technology has not changed for many decades if not longer.
There appears to be a range of skill levels and ambitions among loom operators. Some weave simple, one-color cloth. Some weave with blends of different thread – silk, cotton or nylon. Some weave cloth with a pattern that runs down one long side. Occasionally, we see some working looms with many suspended ‘templates’ that separate the threads of the “warp” allowing the weaver to create complex patterns. (The following photo shows a loom with many templates.)
It can take years to learn to weave high-quality cloth. Watching the ladies (and occasional man) work made we wonder about how they even get started. By this, I don’t mean how they learn to weave. I mean how the loom gets set up before any weaving can take place.
Our loan officers talked about “preparing” the loom but I’d never seen this process. I was clueless as to what might actually be involved until one day we drove past two women sitting on a small platform in front of a house (see second photo above). They were in the process of setting up a loom. We stopped for a closer look and I was fascinated by the complexity of the work. Thread, often cotton or silk, needs to be stretched between two parallel wooden rods or boards and maintained with equal tension (see first photo at top and photo below). These longitudinal threads are called the “warp”. With the looms in this area, the warp typically spans a distance of three meters and is eighty or so centimeters wide.
Between each wooden anchoring rod are templates or walls of vertcal separating strings which I think are called “heddles” (see photo). The loom preparer winds bulk thread around the board at one end of the loom, threads it string-by-string through the templates or heddles.
The threads are each strung again through a comb-like piece of flat metal that is used to beat the “weave” thread uniformly into place. (see following photo) This process requires two people, a specialized hook tool and what must be fantastic eyesight….not to mention phenominal patience.
The teeth or tines of the comb (which I think is called the “reed”) are so finely cut that you can see through them. Over the width of this reed there were 2,600 threads . . . each one threaded, tied and tensioned equally!
A typical loom takes a month to set up and can be used for perhaps three to four. For this . . . the loom preparer makes about (US) $30-$40! Amazing…
If you’re curious about more Cambodian weaving information, you can see any of these links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cambodian_clothing
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9B05E2DD163FF933A15757C0A961958260
http://www.leisurecambodia.com/Leisure_Cambodia/No.07/culture.htm
http://www.eicambodia.org/events/upfile/EXPORT_DIVERSIFICATION_VALUEADDITION_by_Vuthy.pdf
Guayaquil, Ecuador
Greetings from Ecuador! My name is Elizabeth Li and I am here as a Kiva Fellow working with MFI Mifex. Hard to believe I’ve been here for 2months already with just over 2weeks to go. Due to access difficulties I have not been able to blog until recently. Reading all the other blogs here I’m reminded of one thread that ties us fellows together despite being in distinctly different cultures across the world: living abroad in the developing world is a true challenge!
Mifex operates out of two offices located in the marginalized urban sectors of Guayaquil. Millions of people live here in cane houses on dirt roads with no access to running water or many of the conveniences we take for granted today. As I accompany loan officers on their visits in the field I am reminded daily of how luxurious my life back home is each time I am confronted with the sights, smells, and the blistering heat of this area. This is a shout out to the loan officers at Mifex. Every morning they set out early with a list of old and potentially new clients to visit. However, it’s not as simple as a car ride over — they stand by the side of the main road often for up to 30minutes waiting for the bus that will take them into the sector where their clients live. Standing there with the dust and dirt blowing in your face, breathing the diesel-laden air that makes your lungs want to give out, all the while trying to not let the heat and humidity get to you is hard work. The days I have gone out on visits with them we sit in the bus, talking and having good conversation, but it’s hard not to notice and gawk at the conditions on the streets: the ubiquitous flea-infested stray dogs, uncontained trash, young children who have to peddle instead of going to school. Often I wonder how these meetings with clients actually take place; it’s usually a verbal agreement made to meet on such and such corner across from the church after 9am. The lack of cell phone signal or a street sign to help us out certainly complicates matters, but add in the Latin sense of time and we’re talking about more waiting by the side of the road desperately wishing for shelter from the sun! Often we don’t know who we’re looking for, especially if it’s a new client, so it’s a good thing they can easily pick out “la chinta” and the uniformed very professional looking person. The other day we were standing across from the church waiting, and starting to wonder after 30minutes if this church was the same one the client was referring to. We were then surprised when a crickety old red pick-up truck pulled up alongside us and told us to jump in. Now, having seen and experienced how people drive I honestly was loathe to get in the back of this truck, but I convinced myself it was part of the experience of being here. So, in we went and I tried to contain myself as we bounced along the dirt road that seemed to have more potholes than smooth stretches. It amazes me when you have a certain picture in your mind of how large an area is and when reality blows that image away. Rows and rows after rows of cane-houses, some barely standing upright, some with hardly a roof. First I was shocked by how people live, now I was struck by just how many people live in these dire circumstances.
After completing the initial loan evaluation the loan officer did not believe the client met the criteria required for a loan. We climbed back into the pickup for the ride which was graciously offered to us. I knew I just wanted to get back to the office to cool off and get out from under the sun because I was hot, sweaty, tired, and disappointed that we could not be of assistance to this person. I certainly hope I find the persistence to keep up with this! But more so I have a great admiration for the loan officers who stretch themselves to the limit day after day to reach out to those who are really in need.
Hawkers
My limit for walking around Ghana in the daytime here is about ten minutes. I’m in pretty good physical condition, it’s just that after the fifth minute I start feeling like I dived in a pool with my clothes on. At that point I find an excuse to go indoors, take my backpack off, and cool off before heading out again.
The other day I had opportunity to interview Elizabeth Quenoo. She doesn’t have the capital to open a shop yet, so she walks and sells with her products balanced on her head from sunrise to sunset. Elizabeth “hawks” pots and metal bowls.
On top of carrying heavy loads in the heat, hawkers simultaniously dodge speeding tro-tros, avoid giant open ditches in the roads, and breath in loads of car fumes, and sprent away from IRS agents. They are also more susceptible to malaria, headaches, neck pains, frequent fevers, and general muscle pains from being outdoors over an extended period of time. Here I am about to collapse after walking ten minutes, and all these women are hawking with 30 or so pounds of products on their heads. The entrepreneurial spirit of Sinapi women never ceases to amaze me.
Rose Kasoma, Ugandan Entrepreneur
I first met Rose Kasoma at the office of Share an Opportunity (SAO) Microfinance, Ltd in Kampala, Uganda where she came to pay the monthly installment on her $1,200 loan funded by Kiva lenders. We talked briefly and I asked permission to visit her.
On November 30, 2007, accompanied by Stuart Tamale, a young college educated Ugandan loan officer working for SAO, we went to Rose’s store.
The store is well located in the Ugandan version of a strip mall near a “round-about” on a busy thoroughfare on the outskirts of Kampala. All shops in the brick strip mall open to the outside air toward the road. There were approximately ten shops in the mall, all the same size; about 5 paces wide and 5 paces deep. Rose’s store was well stocked, clean, and the merchandise was nicely displayed. I saw no shops in the immediate area offering the same product selection as Rose. Her shelves were better stocked than some nearby shops.
When we arrived at 9 am, Rose’s youngest son Brian was alone in the store. Brian was well dressed and polite. Like his mother, he is soft spoken. Brian is 14 years old and on vacation from Senior 2 grade, which is the equivalent of ninth grade in the US.
Next, Stuart took me to Rose’s home. It was not easy to find. He navigated down a winding dirt path to a dead end. Rose’s compound, perched on the edge of a swampy jungle inhabited by monkeys, consists of a small brick house, a brick chicken coop, a broken down confinement structure for her 3 cows, and an outhouse.
Rose greeted us warmly. We talked as she hacked stalks of sugar cane into foot long segments for sale at the store. At one point, she went to the chicken coop, removed a chicken, gently calmed the frightened animal, and then proceeded to offer it to me as a gift. I was overwhelmed by her generosity, considering this bird represented a significant portion of her farm assets. I declined the gift, explaining that I didn’t know how to cook (or butcher) a chicken, and I was staying in a hotel with no kitchen. I thanked her profusely for the offer.
Rose is one of seven children. Her husband, who was away the day we visited, is also one of seven children. Rose’s father refused to pay tuition for her schooling but her mother somehow found money to pay for Rose’s limited education. Her understanding of English is excellent, but she preferred to answer my questions in the local language, which Stuart translated.
Rose has two sons and one daughter. The oldest son, Nicholas, is in medical school training to be a doctor. The daughter, Victoria, is in nursing school. We met the younger son Brian at the store. Rose does not intend to have more children.
Rose first became acquainted with SAO Uganda when its social service component gave her tuition assistance for Nicholas and Victoria in elementary school.
When I asked Rose how business was going, she said it was only “so-so”. Sales are stable, and with the Kiva loan she is able to maintain a good inventory of general merchandise for her customers. Occasionally she is asked to extend credit, but she resists because she has to make her monthly loan repayments. She pays cash for her stock and does not accept trade credit when offered. Rose is a serious, but cautious businesswoman.
The big event in Rose’s life right now is a small plot of land her husband recently inherited in a nearby township. The ground is well drained and more suitable for raising livestock than their current swampy location. She and her husband would like to move there and add pigs to their collection of cows and chickens. To do this they will need money to build a new home and farm buildings. When I asked if she would sell her current home, she quickly replied no, it was being saved for the children.
When I asked Rose what her dream in life is, she paused, and then explained that she is old and wants to retire to the new farm to raise livestock. Rose is much younger than I am, but the average life expectancy in Uganda is less than 50, so she considers herself old. She often works till midnight at the store. Although her children are well educated, Rose understands the vagaries of Uganda’s economy well enough to also train them to be self-sufficient entrepreneurs, in case all else fails. She intends to pass the store on to one or more of the children.
Our interview ended as we delivered Rose to her store. It was time for work, not talk, so I bid her goodbye with confidence that Kiva’s funds are well invested and secure.
My First Field Visit
Since arriving in Kenya I have been yearning to meet Kiva clients, to see the effects of Kiva and microfinance with my own eyes. Over the years I have read many books and articles about microfinance, but nothing can take the place of seeing the smiles on the clients’ faces as they watch customers file in and out of their shops – often as a direct result of their Kiva loan. I not only saw clients who had been given the opportunity to increase their incomes, I saw people with a newfound sense of pride, accomplishment, and confidence. I can now attest to the fact that Kiva loans really are loans that change lives…it’s not just a clever slogan!
We visited clients in Mlolongo, a rapidly growing town on the Mombasa Highway, just outside of Nairobi. What was only recently considered an informal settlement has grown due to the high traffic of transport trucks and is now considered a town. Mlolongo has a rapidly growing population and subsequently a rapid increase in businesses and homes. On the morning of our field visit, it had been raining. The roads are unpaved, and there is no drainage system for excess water. So it was mud, puddles, and careful steps for us! Everywhere we looked, we could see new houses being built to accommodate the influx of people coming to live in the town. Many recently-opened businesses lined the muddy streets. Unfortunately for those who can’t afford a stall or a shop from which to operate their business, a rainy day means that they can’t lay out their goods on the street for sale. One of the Kiva clients was one such unfortunate business-owner who had no choice but to accept the fact that she could make no sales until the weather cleared up. But the weather was no deterrent for the other Kiva clients I had the pleasure of meeting.
Instead of singling out a few of the clients, I want to express my overall feeling after my field visit. (If you want to learn more about the individual clients in Mlolongo, check out the journal entries I have posted for Action Now: Kenya.) Leaving Mlolongo, I had some time to digest what I had just seen and experienced while I sat in two hours of diesel-infused air while stuck in the notorious Nairobi traffic. My first thought was of the overwhelming display of entrepreneurship and determination in each of the clients. Each has suffered their own set of hardships, each has accepted financial responsibility for their families and often extended families or orphans in the area, and each has been proactive in helping themselves to rise out of poverty. That’s something that has always intrigued me about microfinance. In my eyes, the old saying, “It takes money to make money”, is only half of the economic development equation. It takes money and determination to make money, especially in the developing world where adversity often outweighs opportunity.
Secondly, as I mentioned earlier, I saw the difference a small loan can make. Most of the clients we visited used their loan to purchase inventory or materials in bulk for their shop. There are so many benefits from doing so: a bigger selection for customers (creating competitive advantage over other, similar shops), a price discount for buying in bulk (allowing for greater profits), and less travel time to go to Nairobi to make their purchases (reducing costs in both time and money), to name a few. Many of the clients said they wanted to become a wholesaler to supply other shops in the area with material or goods. The boost a Kiva loan can give to their business sets the stage for the future ability to do so. From an economic standpoint, a wholesale business can lead to greater profits and higher incomes; and from a development standpoint, it would mean that the shop owners of Mlolongo wouldn’t have to travel to Nairobi to purchase their inventory and the money would therefore remain within the town, benefiting the community as a whole.
I’ll be visiting slum areas of Nairobi this week, an experience sure to be different in many ways. I’m looking forward to seeing first-hand the different challenges faced by business-owners in the slums, as well as the differences in living conditions and overall quality of life – in comparison with the town of Mlolongo.
Work with Life in Africa
After being in Uganda for a few months and journaling for Kiva, September seems like years ago. Everything was so unfamiliar and I felt like the world I entered was insane. Yet, now I am used to the traffic, the city, the wonderful people, and the smells. J
My experience with Life In Africa has been truly eye-opening to the plight of those living in an IDP camp and those trying survive in the city. Each person I journal about has a unique challenge they are dealing with, or dealt with, along with a success story that may not have occurred without the start up capital from Kiva. It’s so fascinating to hear their stories before the loan, especially those who had no prior income, and then to hear how it affected their life and their families. Many of the borrowers explain that they have struggled with school fees and the loan helped them have sustainable income to send their children to school consistently; a priority that everyone has conveyed to me. Most of the borrowers I interview are women and their strength amazes me. Some of them widows, others my age and dealing with such hardships, and some who are the bread winners while their husbands just sit with their friends all day. Each woman has a fighting spirit and wants to provide for her family. At times the stories are hard and loans have not always been the answer to their challenges, but even if the business failed they have shown the remarkable ability to persevere through the situation they face.
Some of the most interesting interviews have been with those whose first business never took off or failed for various reasons because these borrowers had to adjust and rethink their business plan. Those who had to change really scrutinized their next business to ensure it would be profitable. Most of them have done tremendously well with their next business and proves “that if at first you don’t succeed you must try again.” Their tenacity to keep going and make a business succeed is inspiring to me. Those whose business did not succeed and they were not able to move forward were just as inspiring to me because most of them faced a challenge in life that was unbelievably staggering. In a country where life can be so cruel and adversity is prevalent, I have met people who are optimistic and hopeful that life can get better. I look forward for the rest of my time in Kampala.
More from Cambodia
Phnom Penh, Cambodia
It seems like every day in the field is a learning experience, specifically, about how the other half lives. Being out and about, visiting people in thatched, stilt homes as we sit barefoot on the floor and smile at each other just seems too good to be true sometimes. I love my work!
Being new to microfinance, I didn’t have a clear understanding about how it all worked beyond the basic concept – giving the poor access to just a little bit of capital at a reasonable interest rate so that they can better their lives. The beauty of Kiva is that they’ve really latched on to something profound - a medium by which lenders from rich countries can lend to those in poor and make them feel like they can reach right out and touch these people. I was looking at comments to my posts the other day and found that people actually write personal messages to the borrowers – that’s the power of the concept that’s been created! (Photo: Siem Morm picking long beans)
Just the other day, I wrote in one of my journal that “Previously she(Saran Rous) had purchased both her loom and materials on credit from the middleman and received minimal compensation when she provided the finished product. Now she is able to earn around $1.50 USD per day for her labors.” Can you believe that?! I write it as if – Wow, look at how much she makes now! But it’s TRUE, these are the kinds of incremental changes we’re dealing with that improve people’s lives. Daily, I continue to have my mind blown over details like this..jpg)
Most people we speak with use the loans for simple small improvements to their businesses. Many never had capital to purchase things upfront and had to work on credit for which their end profits were much reduced. These loans really only give them a slight edge, but it’s enough. Others say they borrow because it’s too difficult to save. There are no banks in the villages, so if the money is at home they’ll spend it. The truth is that it’s really not so dissimilar from the way a credit card works. The borrowers also have to put up considerable collateral (like the deed to their land) so they don’t default, and it seems to work. Maxima, the MFI I’m working with, says their loan default rate is less than 1%! Not bad in a country where most people only earn around $2/day. (Photo: Hand-woven silk on the loom)
Besides actually loving the work, I’ve also been blessed to have been placed with an MFI as professional and gracious as Maxima. With a staff of 23, even all the loan officers at Maxima have degrees in finance or business, or are going to night school to get them. On top of that (more for our benefit than anything) several speak English fluently, a half dozen are much better than average, and most of the rest can at least speak as much English as we can Khmer (the local language). This has made our field interviews so much deeper than we ever would have hoped because we can just wing-it from person to person to gather lots of interesting information.
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Every time we interview, I’m impressed at how sweet, gentle and open the Khmers are. They smile with their whole face and most seem, dare I say, “tickled” that we’re interested in them and downright AMAZED that people from all over the world can see their photo. They have pride too, and most women want to clean up and/or change clothes before I take another photo of them once they realize so many people will see it. Almost everyone in Cambodia works where they live so that our interviews all happen in people’s homes. They’re modest homes, mostly wood or thatched, raised on concrete stilts with an open living/work area on the ground floor. I’ve found myself both amazed and appalled sometimes at how many people live in such a small space. (My most extreme example so far is 10 people in a 10′x 12′ space! They all sleep on the floor.) For most, their children are their biggest concern and hope for the betterment of the family’s future. Remember that not so long ago, 30% of the population was eradicated by the Khmer Rouge genocide so that now a huge portion of the population consists of young parents and their children. For many, this is the first generation that even has a CHANCE of pursuing education past the 8th grade level. (Photo: Ny Sith with children)
Cambodia IS a poor country, but the Khmers aren’t lazy and most seem intent not only on bettering their lives immediately, but providing for future generations. It’s clear to me why microfinance has such a high success rate here and it’s exciting to be a small part of it. (Photo: Darin + loan officer interviewing Kiva borrowers at home)
Meet Samuel “Sam” Mayanja Ssekajja, Manager of Share an Opportunity Micro-finance Ltd, Kampala, Uganda
David Groves is a hero. I will probably never meet him, but if I do, I will shake his hand and thank him for boarding an airplane in Australia bound for Kampala, Uganda in 1991, armed with nothing more than the name of the author of an article published in the Baptist Union General Society Newsletter about the terrible plight of Ugandan war orphans following years of civil strife.
Mr. Groves ultimately located that author, Pastor John Ekudu, General Secretary of the Ugandan Baptist Union, and formed a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) called Share an Opportunity, Uganda (SAO) dedicated to the support of parentless Ugandan children orphaned by the dual scourge of war and HIV/Aids.
In 1993 SAO hired its second staff member, a recent business school graduate and Kampala native named Samuel Mayanja Ssekajja; Sam for short. Fourteen years later, in 2007, Sam is the Manager of Share an Opportunity (SAO) Micro-Finance Ltd in Kampala, and my new boss as a Kiva Fellow.
What follows is the history of Sam’s evolution as a micro-finance banker, whose work has positively impacted the lives of tens of thousands of poor Ugandans, multiplying the altruism of David Groves many times over.
Sam has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After completing his undergraduate degree in Business Management, he went back to business school to earn a degree in Purchasing and Supplies Management. He returned a third time to undertake a degree in Accounting followed by a Post Graduate degree in Micro-finance and then an MBA specializing in Project Management. He did all this while raising a family of five children with his wife Juliet and working full time for Share an Opportunity Uganda, a not-for-profit social service organization.
Above all else, Sam is an entrepreneur. The first day we met, I peppered him with questions non-stop for four hours to piece together his story of perseverance and creativity in one of the most chaotic business environments I can imagine.
Sam’s first assignment in 1993 was to create a program for income generation at the 10 centers across Uganda where a total of 50 orphans were housed with families in villages served by a Baptist church. The problem was the number of centers, and the number of orphans in each center, was growing faster than the budget to support them. By 1998 there were 25 centers with 40 children per center, a fourteen fold increase in orphans in only five years.
Sam developed a program to increase farming productivity at the centers. Typically, villagers engaged in subsistence agriculture; raising chickens, pigs, and other animals as well as growing maize (corn), cabbage, passion fruit, egg plant, and bananas. Uganda is located on the equator which means farmers can plant and harvest two crops each year. Planting season is September and March, the two rainy months, and harvest is in late August /early September and February.
Sam purchased improved hybrid corn seed developed in Uganda at the National Research Organization (NARO). The 3 new hybrids, called Long 4, Long 5 and Long 6, greatly increased yields compared to open pollinated seed saved from the previous crop. Farmers were not required to pay for the seed until after harvest.
He obtained professionally grown cabbage seed, eliminating the possibility seed borne plant disease, thus increasing the odds of a successful crop.
Sam went to the Ugandan government to obtain a locally bred hybrid passion fruit that crossed a disease resistant, but bitter, yellow variety with a local purple passion fruit, a good tasting variety that was susceptible to disease. The new Purple Hybrid produced a healthy crop of big succulent fruit.
He advised villagers how to increase banana yield through improved cultural practices. In the climate of Uganda, a banana plant grows from seed to a full grown plant in 9 months. Three months later, the new plant produces its first bunch of bananas. Sam showed villagers how trimming the banana plant back to three suckers of different lengths encourages continuous banana production.
SAO Uganda also distributed essential farm implements to the villagers. In Uganda, the majority of farming is done by hand, using simple, but essential, tools.
Finally, he encouraged the members of the village committees to focus their efforts on the most profitable crops, what he calls an “enterprise” approach. Previously, each family made independent planting decisions and then consumed what they produced. Sam encouraged them to pool output to create a marketable crop to attract cash paying commodity buyers.
The income generation program yielded three results;
1. Agricultural output increased, generating income from surplus production, and sustaining the orphan program.
2. Other villagers, beyond the original families housing orphans, joined the local committees.
3. The idea of credit and paying for inputs after harvest was introduced.
By 1997, Sam broadened SAO programs to include value added services like bakery production and primary health care education to reduce disease. These programs were implemented by volunteers within the villages. The number of centers increased as word of SAO and Sam’s success spread.
Fundamentally, Share an Opportunity was a charitable social service organization, not a business. Sam began to see problems with that approach.
Some of the villagers, who volunteered with orphans or in the various social service programs, saw their crop inputs as payment for services rendered and not debts repayable after harvest.
Other local committees had problems with self dealing of committee members, resulting in bad debt collection problems.
The fundamental problem, as he saw it, was the lack of savings at the local level. Villagers saved very little, and relied on the charitable parent organization when problems arose. Equity was not growing in the centers.
Sam saw a demand for micro credit, especially crop loans, but for ethical reasons SAO’s partners at Baptist World Aid did not wish SAO to be a banker. Locally owned SACCO’s, or Savings Credit Cooperative Societies, were Sam’s compromise to satisfy both local credit needs and his partner’s principles of maintaining community relationships.
A SACCO is based on the principle of local ownership. Members purchase share capital and pay a membership fee. In a SACCO the borrowers are the owners. The original methodology was group loans where members guaranteed each other’s loans and each borrower contributed 20% of the loan amount in compulsory savings.
Village committees were aggregated to parishes (6 villages), sub-counties (6-7 parishes), and districts (5 sub-counties).
When Sam received permission from his board to form the first SACCO, he did what many entrepreneurs do; he went back to the customers who knew him, trusted him, and respected him.
His first SACCO was in Zirobwe, a rural sub-county in Luwero district, 45 miles outside the capital city of Kampala, which had been one of the original orphan centers.
Convincing villagers to invest their meager cash savings in a cooperative society was not an easy task. Uganda has a long and tarnished history of co-ops. For several decades, warring factions plundered agricultural co-ops, stealing their stocks of cocoa, coffee, and cotton, and selling them in neighboring countries to finance armies. Banks were robbed. No savings institution was spared. Savings societies lost everything.
In 2000 Sam fearlessly ventured into this difficult business environment, selling founder’s capital in SAO’s first SACCO, many times to villagers who stored cash in buried coffee cans. His first meetings were held under a tree. Sam and a college intern crisscrossed the Zirobwe district meeting with small groups of men and women.
This was a different approach than social services. Previously, many SAO programs centered on the distribution of free goods or free education, paid for by a distant funding source. With the SACCO, it was all business. The customers were the owners who were borrowing their own money.
Although Sam’s board authorized him to pursue the SACCO concept, it did not provide start-up capital. They allowed him to petition five centers in Central Uganda, where his Income Generation Programs had generated a diminishing pool of retained earnings. Sam asked the committees to give up control of those funds (about US $3,000) so they could be used as loan capital for the Zirobwe SACCO. It wasn’t much money, but it was significant because this was the first SAO Uganda program to be completely self funded.
By 2001 Sam had mobilized three SACCOs, Zirobwe and Ngogwe in rural settings and Wakisso, in an urban location. As usual, growth was faster than funding. Just when Sam needed more money, a large umbrella organization for co-operative societies in Uganda named Uganda Cooperative Alliance advertised for smaller organizations to join them. Interestingly, the large organization had attempted to establish a SACCO in Ngogwe and failed.
As an inducement to join, UCA offered a free start-up pack for SACCO’s:
1. Office rent
2. Salary for two staff
3. Safe
4. Furniture
5. Stationery, including pass books
6. Supervisory audits
No start-up capital was offered, but since Sam was out of money, he enrolled the three operating SAO SACCO’s and used funds for the start-up packs to loan even more money through new SACCO’s.
Today, Share An Opportunity Micro Finance Ltd. supports and loans to 14 branded SACCO’s, serving more than 10,000 poor Ugandans.
As usual, Sam did not limit his services to funding loans. He recommends “enterprise solutions” wherever SAO lends money. In Zirobwe, he encouraged the cultivation of upland rice, which produces higher returns.
In Ngogwe, he help convert farmers to maize production. Previously, they supported themselves by growing coffee or fishing from canoes on nearby Lake Victoria. In 1997, wilt disease wiped out the coffee crop and the government granted fishing rights for export to modern fishing vessels, which greatly diminished the local catch.
Soon after Ngogwe farmers switched to vanilla production, that market crashed.
Sam encouraged them to focus on corn production. Due to their critical mass of production (100 sack of corn are needed to fill a lorry), and increasing demand from drought stricken Kenya and war ravaged Sudan (as well as ethanol production in the US), maize prices are strong and the Ngowe SACCO is prospering. Additionally, SAO loaned money for the purchase of a flour mill in Ngogwe, which allowed local farmers to add value to their crop, increasing sales revenue 200-300%.
Sam and his new Board, composed of professionals of diverse backgrounds and business skills, completed a strategic plan in 2007 which concluded that in order to be sustainable; SAO Micro-Finance Ltd had to operate as a stand-alone for-profit business.
The problem with loaning to SACCO’s is that it is a low margin business. SAO loans to the SACCO at a 1%/month interest rate and the SACCO loans to its members at a 3% per month rate, using the spread to cover operating costs. The loans are small, so Share an Opportunity was perennially short of funds with which to grow.
Sam and his Board saw an opportunity in making loans directly to individuals in and around Kampala at substantially higher interest rates. In addition, he wanted to grant loans referred and guaranteed by his SACCO customers that exceeded the SACCO’s maximum loan size.
Once again Sam had an idea for expansion and no way to fund it. His eyes sparkled as he related to me the serendipitous story of how the very same week in February 2007 when he launched the direct lending program (“I have to start”, he told himself), he received a letter from Kiva.org inviting him to apply for funding of direct loans to poor borrowers.
Since February 2007 Share an Opportunity Micro-Finance Ltd. has funded about 50 individual loans through Kiva, totaling approximately $US 50,000. I will be calling on those borrowers and posting journals on the Kiva website to chronicle the impact of micro-finance on their lives.
SAO Microfinance Ltd currently has 6 full time employees, including Sam.
When Sam talks about the business, he speaks in terms of products. He’s looking for unfilled customer requirements and a profitable way to provide them.
He spoke of “school/crop loans” for the SACCO’s. In Uganda school begins in February (1st term), May (2nd term) and September (3rd. term). It is not free. Farmers are often forced to sell their harvest right out of the field, at the lowest possible price, in order to pay tuition for their children. Sam sees an opportunity for short term school loans, repaid by storing the crop and selling it at a higher price later.
He wants to finance more equipment and storage facilities to add value to crops at the village level.
He has been approached by at least one local employer about offering “salary loans”, which are loans to employees guaranteed by the employer and repaid through payroll deduction.
He is very interested in “double bottom line” projects which are both profitable and environmentally friendly. He sees a need for increased agricultural productivity; getting more food from existing cultivated acres, so farmers will be less likely to convert virgin, environmentally sensitive, land into marginal farmland.
As you can imagine, Sam is a natural born salesman. Walking down the street beside him is like being with the mayor. He greets everyone with a smile and a comment, and he knows every name. In the rural community of Ngogwe he is affectionately known as “Uncle Sam”. He was so smooth in negotiating a 45% discount on my hotel rate; everyone was smiling when the deal was struck.
It is no surprise that Sam sees my arrival as an opportunity to create new “products” and attract new customers. We talked about creating a business skills training module for his customers, based partially on my experience in US small business.
He wants me to look at their website, which was created when SAO was still a social service agency, and suggest ways to make it more valuable and user friendly for SACCO’s and commercial borrowers.
There is a perpetual need for updated and revised business plans. Sam pointed out micro-finance is the fastest growing business segment in Africa and it changes monthly. Commercial banks are now involved and the competition is increasing. I will be working with him on SAO’s planning.
My first meeting with Sam obviously covered a lot of ground. He is an energetic individual, to say the least. The moment that most impressed me was when he handed me a deposit book from one of his SACCO’s.
It was a simple little affair, kind of a pocket-sized version of the “blue book” we all used for college exams. The blue cover was printed with logo of the SACCO and the address. Inside the front cover was a rectangular outlined area to glue a photo of the owner of the pass book. The white pages inside were printed with a simple spreadsheet to record deposits and withdrawals.
The whole thing reminded me of my first “bank book” in third grade back in the 1950’s. Mom gave each of us five cents a week to deposit. We would carefully place the nickel in the envelope containing our bank book and close it securely using a string that wrapped around two circular tabs. At school, the teacher would announce “bank day” and collect our envelopes. Later, when she returned the envelopes minus the coin, we would all check our bank book, and sure enough find a new entry showing the 5 cent deposit. That bank book was very important to me.
Sam described how SACCO members are proud of their pass books. For many, it is the first time in their life they ever had personal savings. For many it represents the first official transaction they ever completed. The picture on the pass book is sometimes the only one they ever owned.
Many members, especially women, refuse to take their passbook out of the SACCO office. They are so proud of it and so fearful of losing it (or letting their husband have access to it), they insist on keeping it in the office safe.
As Sam told me this story, I realized he is a business man with his own “double bottom line”. He is clearly driven to succeed, but he also has a soft side that recognizes the profound effect he is having on the lives of others.
This is a man I can work with.
More later….
Drew
