Archive for March, 2008
English as a form of capital in Azerbaijan
On Sunday, I had the privilege of spending time with an Azeri woman over lunch and walking around Baku. For the record, I am female. I met Ulviyya on a bus a few days ago when I saw her reading English vocabulary from a dictionary that was falling apart to pieces and started talking to her. We parted shortly after but before doing so, Ulviyya jumped on the opportunity to practice her spoken English. She took down my mobile number and invited me to lunch on Sunday.
Throughout the few hours we spent together, I was incredible impressed at how diligent Ulviyya was at asking for definitions of words she didn’t understand, taking notes, and referring to what’s left of her Azerbaijani-English dictionary to express words she struggled with. I felt more and more embarrassed at how little effort I am putting into learning Azeri in comparison to her!
After lunch, Ulviyya took me to a place in the city where there were vendors selling English instruction books. We selected a few but the availability of affordable books was very scarce. She had already read almost all books at the level below her current ability. Ulviyya tells me that she would like to improve her English so that she can be confident of applying for and getting a job as a geologist at BP, where the salary is much higher but fluency in English is mandatory.
I am humbled upon realizing how hard Azerbaijanis at every level of society strive to better their lives. Some opt to borrow from microfinance organizations to expand their businesses while others increase their human capital by learning English.
2 comments 31 March 2008
Fire…Fire…Fire!!
A few days ago we had just finished some shopping at the Uchumi supermarket at the newly built Garden City Mall. As we left the mall and walked through the car park we noticed the commotion of hundreds of people watching smoke billowing from the roof of the six story Standard Chartered Bank building. A few of the workers had made their way onto the roof and were removing tiles to allow the smoke and heat to escape. The roof of a building that’s on fire is possibly not the safest of places to be but quite a few workers seems very happy to be up there, being watched by the huge crowd that was gathering on all the mall balconies and car park levels. As the smoke continued to grow some people decided the safest place to be was as far from the mall complex as possible. The cars queued to leave via the only exit which, incidentally, is also the only entrance! The two lanes provided for entrance and exit were both fully clogged up by cars leaving the mall. At that moment the fire engine arrived. Or at least it tried to arrive – it couldn’t get into the entrance of the car pack due to the cars trying to flee the scene. There was a huge panic as officials tried to get the cars that were trying to leave to back up. The same people that were desperately trying to flee the scene of a six-story building potential about to burst into a flaming fireball were being forced to reverse back down the ramp towards the smoking bank. It was clear that there had been little planning for the eventuality of a fire within the mall. Eventually a route was cleared for the fire engine to drive to he outside of the ground floor of the bank. There was a ramp to the right which allowed vehicles to drive up and around to be outside the 3rd story of the building but they chose the ground floor level.
The smoke was still rising out of the roof and the bank workers were still frantically pulling up roof tiles to allow more heat to escape. Meanwhile the six or seven members of the fire engine crew were busy trying to get the ladder off the fire engine’s roof rack. The ladder was in three parts and it took all of the crew a good few minutes to assemble. Only when they put it in position on the floor and leaned it against the wall did they realize that the ladder only reached up to a point midway between the 2nd and 3rd story of the building! They dismantled the ladder, placed it back on the roof rack of the fire engine and drove the vehicle round the ramp and parked it outside the 3rd story of the building. The ladder assembly process began again. They managed to put it together slightly quicker than the first time – practice makes perfect! Unfortunately, even from the 3rd story, ladder did not quite reach up to the roof of the building. There was a balcony on the adjacent building to the bank where a large group of people had gathered. One of the firemen realized he could go inside the mall, up the escalator and onto the balcony where the people were standing. Four of the other firemen then started to climb the ladder at the same time, each holding a separate part of the hose, aiming to pass it from the fire engine up to the fireman who had reached the balcony.
Meanwhile the bank workers on the roof were still pulling up tiles and the smoke was still rising through the holes – although it seemed to have been dying down a little. The hose reached the fireman on the balcony who was now only one story below the roof. He stood prepared with the hose in his hand aiming up at the roof of the bank. The fireman closest to the tap turned on the hose. Only then did it become clear that the hose had not been used or checked for some time. It was completely ridden with holes and almost all of the water from the tap leaked out of the holes in the hose before reaching the end with the nozzle. Everyone in the vicinity got soaked through before the firemen turned off the tap. They had run out of ideas. Fortunately the smoke had completely stopped and it seemed that the fire had somehow put itself out.
I think the moral of this story is to really try exceptionally hard not to leave a chip pan unattended on your stove while preparing dinner in Kampala.
1 comment 28 March 2008
A conversation to ponder
Yesterday, while walking home from work, my husband and I fell into a rhythm that kept pace with a young man who was walking in the same direction. In the big city I come from, people tend to avoid making eye contact when they chance upon strangers in the street. In a country town, people tend to acknowledge each other with a friendly nod or brief smile. Ugandans will smile openly, say hello and ask how you are. They will even wait for your reply and expect you to enquire the same of them. And then, if your Luganda is good enough, or if they speak English, a light and friendly chat will take place. So of course when this happened yesterday, it came as no surprise. Nor was it unusual that the Joseph, as the young man introduced himself, was gently spoken and so very polite. I should point out now that Uganda appears to be an incredibly safe country, where we can walk without fear along most roads – knowing that the laptop in your bag would prove to be a curiosity rather than a potential windfall. So we feel very comfortable ignoring our mothers’ advice about talking to strangers here.
We told Joseph that we were on our way home from work and asked him if he was doing the same. He was well dressed, with perfectly polished shoes, so it seemed to be the logical assumption. Joseph was in fact going to his brother’s house, where he was staying for a while until he found work. He explained that his brother had a job, but was struggling to support his own wife and children so he could only impose on them a while longer. Joseph told us about his home town in the east of Uganda. How beautiful it is, and how he plans to stay in Kampala for a few years to make some money and then return there to start a family.
While he told us his story, Joseph spoke positively, with the confidence that he would find a job soon. His hardship was simply a fact of life in Uganda and nothing to be pitied. In fact, Joseph said that he was very lucky to be blessed with the ability to read and write English well and the strength to do many physical jobs. He also had the good sense to make the most of this chance meeting with two Muzungus – Joseph asked if he could give us his phone number in case we came across anyone who might be hiring staff. I couldn’t think of a more reasonable request. And that’s the Ugandan way – gentle and honest, with no hint of aggression.
This is not the fist time a Ugandan has asked if we know of anyone who can give them a job, but it is the first country where I have heard this request so many times. And I find this quite incredible. In one of the world’s poorest nations, we are not swamped with beggars or children demanding pens or sweets, or by people eager to show us their medical conditions in the hope that we will pay for their treatment. Just the dignified request for an honest living.
Something to ponder anyway…
1 comment 28 March 2008
The Leader, Brother Colonel Gaddafi
Yesterday we were on a mutatu coming back from Ggaba (around seven miles away on the shores of Lake Victoria). We covered the first five miles in good time – in fact at the precise moment that I was thinking how quick the journey had been we hit a jam. We didn’t move an inch for over half an hour. No one else on the mutatu batted an eyelid. We waited for another ten minutes before a few people chose to get off the bus and walk the rest of the journey. The major roads are not the most pleasant of routes to walk along. Every vehicle pumps out an incredible about of black smoke from their exhaust pipes which more often than not are directed at the pedestrians walking alongside. The pavements are strewn with holes – some of them large enough to swallow up someone who steps in it unexpectedly. It’s easy to be distracted. There’s quite a lot going on when you walk around the streets. People shouting questions at you; Boda-Boda drivers pulling out in front of you on the pavement offering their services; hopeful locals taking your hand and asking you for a job; mutatu drivers attempting to entice you into their vehicles. It would be very easy to lose concentration on the actual pavement and drop into an open man-hole. Scary thought. On this occasion we chose to stay in the mutatu and sit out the traffic jam.
Another few minutes passed with absolutely no movement and our patience broke. We got out and started walking and coughing. When I first got to Kampala I held my breath when a dirty truck drove passed filling the air with black soot and poison. After a while I found that I was holding my breath for considerably more time than I was actually breathing. I’m now resigned to the fact that it’s not possible to walk around the streets without breathing in the toxins. It’s one of the most disappointing elements of Kampala for me so far. Anyway, so back to walking through the traffic jam that we’d been sitting patiently in for so long. We walked no more than a couple of hundred yards when we came to a large roundabout where the police had blocked all traffic in all directions. Not one vehicle was moving. All of the pedestrians that were trying to walk to their destinations had also been prevented from passing. We had to wait.
Two of the streets had been cleared of all traffic and a few of the pedestrians along the streets had large placards adorned with the photo of Colonel Gaddafi. Suddenly there were sirens coming from our left. Two police cars sped past along the emptied street. A third police car approached the bend at high speed and came to a skidding screeching half spinning stop right in front of the amassed crowd. My first reaction was that the car almost killed a group of innocent by-standers. The innocent by-standers first reaction was to cheer and clap. The car did a wheel spin, throwing a huge amount of dust and dirt into the air and all over looking crowd – still cheering! Seconds later a convoy of at least 20 SUVs came hurtling passed, most of them accompanied by sirens or holding their horns on continuously. Then a sedan car with the man himself in the back seat, flanked by body guards, waving and smiling at the crowd – of which the vast majority hadn’t come to see him but had in fact just been caught up in the wrong part of the city at the wrong time. Nevertheless, Colonel Gaddafi sped past what I’m sure he thought were streets lined with his adoring supporters. Once Gaddafi’s car had passed another 20 or so SUVs sped by with people inside who clearly did love the man.
I couldn’t help but thinking why does a man holding no public office or title have the right to hold up an entire city and it’s people for over an hour. Can’t he get on a mutatu like the rest of us? Has he forgotten his peasant family upbringing? Who the hell does he think he is? Since the day he arrived in town the newspapers have been full of stories and photos of the colonel. Streets around the university have been renamed after him. It’s been reported that he’s frequented numerous lap dancing bars, having the entire female staff perform for him while the usual patrons are locked out on the street. Nice man.
1 comment 28 March 2008
Early thoughts from Uganda
Arriving in Uganda was as welcoming as my wife (Genevieve) and I had expected. We had heard and read such glowing reports of the country and its people. After only a few days in the country my first impressions of both the locals and the city of Kampala are extremely positive ones. As we left the arrivals area at Entebbe airport and stepped outside in Uganda for the first time we were greeted by a large advertising board for Barclays Bank. It says in hugely proud letters “Enjoy Africa’s friendliest country”. The people are among the friendliest people I have had the pleasure of spending time with – not only in Africa, but worldwide. I’m not sure if it’s because the locals are all aware of this label that they have and make the effort to live up to the hype or if it’s because they are simply incredibly friendly. But which came first – the chicken or the egg? It doesn’t matter, from my experience so far, it’s been a pleasure to be here amongst the Ugandans. Unlike the locals of many other developing countries, they genuinely want to make sure that their overseas visitors are made welcome, feel comfortable and at home in Uganda. They offer to help at any opportunity and, surprisingly, are rarely looking for anything in return except a thank you and a warm smile – and the opportunity to shout Muzungu (“White man”) at you. This is purely an observation. Apparently, the locals refer to each other as such things as the brown one, the fat one and the blind one so their use of the local word for “White man” isn’t supposed to be racist in any way. This kind nature is not only reserved for foreign visitors, it is also their way with each other.
My first experience with a local minibus taxi (called a Mutatu in the local language) highlighted this. There is space for 13 people in the taxi. All seats were full with 12 passengers and the conductor seated next to a serious looking man in smart business attire. I presumed we were full but we stopped to pick up a market woman. There is no space for standing on these taxis but there was absolutely no problem with the conductor sitting on the businessman’s knees as we carried on along our way. The Ugandan people have such a gentle nature. They are softly spoken and I am yet to hear someone raise their voice in anger. They all seem to have genuine consideration for each others feelings. If someone drops what they are holding and it breaks, everyone around will say “sorry” – and they mean it. One minibus taxi I was on drove passed the scene of a lady who had fallen off her bicycle and was being helped by a few locals. Almost in unison, all the passengers on the bus said “sorry”. They say it in such a heartfelt manner that you can’t help but be taken aback by their compassion for one another.
Their positivity is apparent through their beaming smiles – from small children through to the frailest of old men. Almost everyone I have seen looks well and healthy. They have an abundance of naturally grown produce, available cheaply in the local markets. They have a low fat and low sugar diet – their teeth are all great (so my Genevieve tells me – she’s a dentist!). In the respect of living in a lush, green, plentiful country the Ugandans have a lot to be happy about. Their climate allows them to grow an abundance of fruit, vegetables tea, coffee and also sugar. The country now exports some of these products and the government is hopefully using the revenue to improve the country and the welfare of its people.
It seems that the tremendous weight of the Idi Amin era seems long forgotten and the country is moving forward positively. While I have spent most of my few days here in Kampala I have also been fortunate enough to visit two separate groups of people in rural communities in Jinja and Mukono. The people here are also progressing nicely. The Micro finance institutions based all around Uganda are able to offer loans and other financial products as well as training to a wide section of the population, at more affordable rates than local money lenders. This relatively recently introduced form of money lending is allowing those not previously able to apply for bank loans, able to afford the extortionate money lender rates or live in too remote a community to have been reached in the past to receive financial support. Their small businesses are starting to thrive. Individual brick-makers now have four or five full time workers and are dreaming of buying land and building homes and services for their village. Families who previously owned one cow now have a few cows and a handful of calves and can sell milk in their village market to the locals at a more affordable price. Women who used to buy a handful of bananas and sell them on the roadside now have a stall at the town market and are able to buy and sell in much larger quantities. Rural families are able to send all their children to school and many have hopes of going onto further education and becoming professionals. People are building themselves new brick homes. Drainage channels are being dug and paved alongside the roads to manage the rain water flow. Roads are being re-laid. Construction is everywhere. The companies in charge are employing large numbers of locals to help with the manual labour. A few mobile phone companies are competing for the market, offering affordable communication for all. It is not uncommon to see a family living in a mud brick house to have a few mobile phones between them. There is wireless internet all around Kampala. These are exciting times for Uganda.
Everyone has a great sense of pride in their appearance. They all dress immaculately and it is an insult to them to not wear appropriate attire. A muzungu who goes around in ripped pants, flip flops and a collarless t-shirt is considered to be showing disrespect by not dressing according to how he or she can afford to dress. While outward appearance shows a prosperous and healthy nation the bitter fact that so many Ugandans are infected with HIV AIDS, malaria and cholera are widespread and the Ebola virus is once again starting to spread in the west of the country. There are public notice adverts on huge billboards urging people not to have cross generational sex. Power cuts across Kampala are extremely common and often lengthy. The vehicles on the roads are mainly old, emitting black smoke, making large areas of the city dirty and polluted. The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), a guerilla movement, allegedly supporting the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA), operates in Northern Uganda and Sudan and is accused of widespread human rights violations. They are in armed rebellion against the Ugandan Government in what is one of Africa’s longest conflicts. This is a nation not without its problems – and some very serious ones at that.
It’s clear that there are many western organizations here to help. Although, a few of the locals we have spoken to about this, are under the impression that most westerners are here to make money and reap the financial benefits of being here. The NGOs are here to do good for Uganda and its people. Many of the expats here live very comfortable lifestyles – in securely walled apartment blocks or houses, with round the clock security, daily maid service, buying imported food from the modern supermarkets, frequenting expat-only bars, being chauffeured around by personal drivers in huge 4-wheel-drive SUVs. Having said all that, most expats are here to contribute to the country; they spend their foreign money here and therefore support the Ugandan economy.
My wife and I are here to volunteer with PEARL Microfinance. It’s an organization that provides financial services to those people that are not able to use the regular banking system due to their remote location or lack of equity to put up against a loan. It’s unfortunate but unavoidable that companies like PEARL have to charge higher interest rates than the bank to enable them to cover their costs and be self sufficient. While the interest charged is around 30% per annum when you consider that inflation is around half of this amount, it doesn’t seem so unreasonable. The recipients of the loans that we have met so far are all happy with the way the money has helped with their businesses and also their private lives. We have heard some interesting stories about the small businesses that the loan recipients own. They include such businesses as brick-making operations, banana sales, general stores, scrap metal collection and sales, milk production, sugar cane farming and restaurants. The locals tell us about their businesses and also about their family situation. Many of them are women, married with five or more children and are also supporting the children of their brothers and sisters who have died young. Yesterday we met a young lady who was holding back the tears telling us how her youngest child recently died of AIDS and how her eldest child now has the HIV virus. The medication is available but the costs of the drugs have forced her into making the decision not to give them to her daughter. When you consider that these drugs cost less than a dollar a day it’s just incredible to think that it’s not an affordable option for many families here.
So after hearing and writing the stories of all the people we meet the next challenge is to upload the info to the Kiva website. It’s hard to describe to someone that has only ever accessed the internet from a computer in a developed country. Everyone can remember dial up speeds before they had the luxury of broadband. Even the snail pace of the very first dial up connections was made to feel super-speedy when compared with the dial up access we have to deal with in Uganda. I’ve just spent the past four hours trying to set up an online bank transfer between two of my online accounts. Back home I’d complete this task in a few minutes at the most. Not here. It took me all morning. Lost connections, website time outs, page not recognized, unexplainable errors, power cuts, computers crashing. Maybe 30 attempts later, the money had been transferred. Our job involves uploading stories of local businessmen and women to Kiva’s website. The target to collect and upload 15 stories per week sounds like an easy one when you consider it takes five minutes to collect a story, tens minutes to write it up and, in theory, one minute to upload it. Simple! Meet a large group of entrepreneurs on Monday morning, interview 15 of them in the space of a couple of hours, return to the office and spend the afternoon writing and uploading all of them, have Tuesday to Friday free to do other things for PEARL and Kiva. Things just happen much slower here. Patience is a key attribute for everyone to have – and lots of it. The journey to the field which is planned to start from the office at 9am doesn’t leave until 1pm. The “45 minute journey” takes three and half hours, most of the time sitting in “jam”, or stopping at a kiosk for 20 minutes to buy a bottle of water. Don’t ask my why it takes so long to do such simple tasks. It just does. There’s no point trying to speed things up – it won’t happen and people won’t understand why you’re in a hurry. The quick interviews with the entrepreneurs each take five times longer than anticipated due to everything having to be translated back and forward through an interpreter.
Processes simply aren’t as efficient here. I have to lower my expectations of everything and everyone. If I expected to be able to do the same things here as I can back home in the same space of time then I would spend all day every day incredibly frustrated. It’s much easier to say this than put it into practice but I have to try to laugh at certain situations rather than let them get to me…
7 comments 28 March 2008
Uganda – Great Expectations
I thought I knew what to expect when we arrived in Uganda. We’d been to Africa before – to Tanzania, Malawi and Zambia – for six weeks as part of a round the world backpacking trip. I fell in love with the continent then, and vowed to return. Next time, I promised myself, I’d do something worthwhile there, rather than just appreciate Africa’s beauty with the eyes of a traveler. It took a year, but my husband, Adam, and I have returned. And that worthwhile thing we’ve found is to become Kiva Fellows at Pearl Microfinance in Kampala, Uganda.
So after spending a week here, and only three days at Pearl, what surprises have I had? Do I dare share my insight after such brief exposure to both the country of Uganda and my first glimpse of microfinance in action? I do, I do, but with the disclaimer that things will be turned on their head soon enough. With every new experience, no doubt I will deepen my understanding of Uganda, the Ugandan people and the reality of microfinance in the field.
First Impressions
I could write reams about the wonderful landscape of Africa. The lush greenery and gentle golden light are part of the reason I am drawn here. And coming from the harsh land of Australia, all sun burnt and drought-stricken, the intensity and number of different shades of green and the rich red soil, this really is paradise found. But Kampala is a bustling city of one million people, so would it be fair or sensible to expect it to live up to my glorious expectations? Well, yes and no. The city centre is bumper to bumper cars, trucks and buses, most of which pump out huge plumes of black smoke which look and smell like they’re instantly reducing your lifespan.
This heavy traffic is known in Ugandan English as ‘jam’, an abbreviation of ‘traffic jam’. Obvious, you say. Well, not so clear to this Muzungu (white person), who is only just starting to tune her ear to the different African vowels and new words that pepper the English spoken here. So not only will we attempt to learn Luganda, but we’ll be learning Ugandan English while we’re here too. One word which I have heard many more times than I expected was ‘sorry’. Ugandans have broadened its meaning so that now it is used as an expression of concern and sympathy. It’s been said to me when I’ve dropped something or slipped, to a barman who smashed a glass, and as a outcry when our mini-bus taxi drove passed a car accident. What a lovely adaptation of a word that so many of us have so little time for is our busy western lives.
So yes, there is traffic and pollution in the city centre. Yet the people in the streets are all smartly dressed, with their clothes pristinely clean and perfectly pressed. They certainly put our wardrobes to shame! And cleanliness is a thing that requires much work here. Kampala is covered with fine red dust that gets into everything – eyes and ears, under finger nails, into computer keyboards, cell phones, you name it, there’s that red dust there. The dust has even found its way to the peaceful suburbs which lie a mile or so to the north of the city center. But there it only seems to add gentleness to the landscape, tempering the stark blackness of the bitumen roads. Here, there are gentle hills (which prove to be much less gentle when navigated on foot in the heat of the midday sun), and beautiful views over the city center as well as other equally picturesque hills which make up this part of town. And this is where our microfinance partner is located, which I must admit did come as a surprise. I had hoped to be able to walk to work, but never had I dreamed it would be along paths which meander around hills covered in dense greenery, with the busy city center of Kampala at their feet. We are lucky enough to have found an apartment (with minimum of fuss), which is half an hour walk from Pearl Microfinance, so we wake up to a most pleasant amble past smiling, friendly faces on our way to work. It hasn’t really rained since we’ve been here, so I’m not sure I’ll find the journey as much fun in the mud slides that are bound to result. So I’ll cling on to my fantasy a while longer.
We’ve been out of Kampala on two field visits, to the town of Jinja, at the source of the Nile and to Mukono, which is about 30 miles away. The drive took us through the most vivid green landscape, through forests and plains, with that vast African sky always overhead. When we stopped to buy some water and grilled bananas, we were descended upon by a swarm of vendors, who stood as close as they could to the car windows, gently presenting their goods. There was no pushing or aggressive selling you might expect with such a horde, but the Ugandans appear to be a most polite and considerate people. Not once have I heard a raised voice, or seen anything other than consideration for others. Not on crowded 14 person mini-bus shared taxis, on streets jammed with cars while motorbikes navigate the traffic around pedestrians side-stepping open man-holes. There seems to be enough room for everyone, never a need for a push or a shove. There’s even thoughtfulness from the motorbike taxi (boda-boda) drivers, while touting for business. Ok, so pulling up on the pavement right in front of where we’re walking isn’t the most polite way to get our attention, but when we decline the offer of a hair-raising ride through traffic sans helmet, we’re simply smiled at, and allowed to walk on in peace.
Ugandans are softly spoken and hushed even in a crowd. But that quiet countenance lights up as you greet someone in the street. Not necessarily with a simple ‘hello’, as we greet each other in the west, often passing by before waiting for a response. Ugandans seem to ask “How are you?” and show genuine interest in the response. They will wait for your reply before continuing on their way, and reward you with a huge smile if you ask them yourself. I feel as though it is a culture that times itself on a more human scale than we do in the west, so things take as long as they take (which is usually longer than we’re used to), but in a way that the human element is not ignored. I think we can learn much from this, and perhaps it’s something that the ‘developed world’ has forgotten on its quest for, well, development.
I had expected a strong sense of modesty and propriety that I’ve experienced elsewhere in Africa. So of course, I packed modest clothes and planned to behave myself. But the Ugandan sense of physical modesty seems to concern itself with legs and not shoulders or even breasts, as I had expected. While the long skirts were an obvious choice, I am thrilled to know that I can wear sleeveless tops in this hot and humid climate, but slightly less pleased that I didn’t actually bring any. The greater surprise, where correct behavior is concerned, is the way a husband and wife can interact in public. Not only are public displays of affection perceived as mildly pornographic, but hand-holding or even just close proximity to one’s spouse may cause offense. Not that anyone has actually told us that they’re offended, or reproached us in any way. We’ve just been met with nervous giggles and down turned eyes when we’ve commit such a faux pas. I discovered this first when we squashed into a shared taxi, with four of us expected to share three seats. The obvious solution (to me at least) was to squash up next to my husband and sit almost on his lap. Surely this would be less awkward than cuddling up to the stranger next to me? That’s when I experienced 13 embarrassed Ugandans giggling uncomfortably at us two inappropriate Muzungus. It was a gentle, yet effective way to tell us we had crossed over that imaginary line.
Encounters with microfinance
So was our first trip into the field – our first window into the reality of microfinance – what I had expected? Yes, on first glimpse, it is just as I had imagined. We met a group of 31 men and women in Jinja, each of whom runs their own business, who were receiving their group loan on the day of our visit. We were greeted by a round of polite (and gentle, always gentle!) applause. We were the Muzungu face of Kiva, the source of their much needed funds, which have found their way across the globe to their group in Jijna.
These were hard working people, many with several businesses but still struggling to meet the rocketing costs of school feels for their children. So many of them care for nieces and nephews who have been orphaned by AIDS, in addition to their own children, and it was not uncommon to learn of 15 people living in one house. Everyone we spoke to was determined that all of their children, as well as their other dependents, complete school. And school fees are incredibly expensive here, so this seems to be a key reason why they’re seeking loans. We asked some of them what they did in their spare time and were met with blank faces. When I’m not at work? I’m asleep of course. And we think we have it tough with our annual leave and public holidays! Yet they were positive about the future and all had dreams for their children to find professions they enjoy and live an easier life.
So has my first glimpse of Uganda shaken my preconceptions, my high hopes for a land of beauty and a warm and gentle people? Incredibly, I can say that the experiences of my first week in Kampala have been overwhelmingly positive. No doubt there will be people and events that will challenge my idyllic view of life here, but today I am so delighted to be here.
And what of our purpose here – of microfinance and Kiva in action? So far, I can say that It’s most certainly worthwhile and it really is changing people’s lives. I feel so privileged to be able to meet with these strong and hard-working people, to talk with them and learn about their experiences. It’s not something that can really be done as a traveler and I’m excited to be able to share it with the Kiva lenders.
1 comment 28 March 2008
Sinapi! Abapa! Sinapi! Enkoso!
During the last month, I’ve visited quite a few courtyards, backyards, sideyards, and frontyards. In each one, I can usually count on two things. One is that someone in the group rises to find chairs for the loan officers and myself and places these chairs in a cool, shady spot. The other is the Sinapi cheer. A loan officer walks into the meeting area and shouts, “Sinapi” and claps twice. In response, the group members yell, “Abapa” (Good Seed). This cheer goes through several more iterations with different responses and the group sits down.
But, recently, in one group, the loan officer’s “Sinapi” was met with silence. The officer tried again and only met silence again. She then smiled, sat down, and walked through the cheer with the group. Another Sinapi employee sitting next to me explained that this was a new group and had only completed the first week of the four week orientation. I thought to myself that if my past experiences could shed any light on the future, the officer’s cheer would be met with a rousing response by the end of the orientation.
Sinapi’s orientation process is a fine example of how microfinance is not simply loans, but much, much more. Not unexpectedly, the orientation process includes concepts such as basic bookkeeping and loan financing. What is telling, however, is that before any of these business concepts are even introduced Sinapi spends considerable time talking to the group about their individual family life and about Sinapi’s core values (Integrity, Respect, Stewardship, and Commitment to the Poor). They explain how these core values not only guide Sinapi’s operations but should also guide their own businesses. They talk to the group about the importance of schooling, health, and instilling responsibility in their children. They ask them if they are having any family troubles or troubles with neighbors. And while much of this is motivated by the social mission of Sinapi, it is also in Sinapi’s financial interest to have healthy, happy clients who can repay on time.
A fine example of the blended relationship between social mission and financial mission is the wonderful work of the Kiva Coordinator, Joshua Opoku-Mainoo. Before he was asked to coordinate Sinapi’s Kiva efforts, he worked as a loan officer in their Takoradi branch. As part of his work, he decided to integrate health insurance registration into the orientation process.
As a backdrop, three years ago, the Ghanaian government instituted a national health insurance scheme with the goal of registering the entire nation. At this point, the registration process is being implemented on a voluntary basis. For those who are at the lowest income bracket, the annual premium is about 7 cedis (7 dollars) a year. However, many of these individuals were not registering with the scheme and many of them were Sinapi clients.
As a loan officer, Joshua understood that poor health was a significant cause of repayment problems. After all, sick clients don’t pay. And sick clients with big medical bills definitely don’t pay. By implementing registration into the orientation process, Josh was not only hoping to minimize health bills and sickness, but also expecting a reduction in repayment issues. The results are in. After instituting the process, the Takoradi branch has now seen a marked drop in repayment issues related to sickness and medical bills. Due to the success of this pilot, Sinapi is taking steps to integrate the insurance registration process into all of its orientations nationwide. It is in efforts like this that I’m seeing how it’s possible to use a microloan to support a broader social mission.
Add comment 27 March 2008
How a Skill Becomes a Loan Becomes a Business
I’ve decided to provide a pictorial representation of the loan steps for SPBD. I’ll use thumbnails because I’d like to avoid crashing the Ugandan or Mozambican or any other countries’ internet cafes. This will alow you to see some of the guys (and gals) behind the guys (and gals). I’m confident that other MFIs have similar processes. It was incredible to witness it first-hand. Hopefully this will provide a glimpse.
After a village expresses interest in starting a center (microfinance group), a representative of SPBD travels to the villages and provides them with a couple finely crafted program videos and a PowerPoint presentation to a very captive audience. Many of the villagers discover SPBD through local TV advertisements.
A Centre Manager (CM – loan officer) returns for four consecutive weeks to provide training on SPBD’s core concepts: business, weekly meetings, payments, savings and group guarantee. Group guarantee being the bedrock of this MFI. Each woman is dependent on the others to faithfully follow the terms of their agreement and must shoulder the burden if others are unable. This is where the Samoan culture of community and pride are especially indispensable.
On disbursement day, the women (as many as 100) begin to arrive at 8:00am at the SPBD office in Savaii. Some stay as long as 8 hours to receive their first loan. I’d like to say the atmosphere is teeming with excitement. I think, really, after 4 weeks of training, they just want their money. Many have had their skill (growing taro, fishing, making dresses, mats, etc) for many years. Time spent previously lounging in the fales (open air houses) is now spent more productively.
Each woman undergoes a final interview to guarantee her fitness in repaying the loan, understanding of the agreement and knowledge of her business. A wide grin and “fa’fetai” (thank you) are all that is needed to show their appreciation.
Now begins the standard 52-week loan term. Each week, a CM travels to each center to receive payments. Group guarantee is effectively enforced and followed.
Visits to the actual businesses is not often an option for a CM considering their very busy days. (But they are able to patronize them as customers during the nights and weekends.) During these center meetings while the detailed records are taken, I’ve had the opportunity to leave and visit the local food stalls, plantations and others. A retail location for many of the women is the Salelologa market where surprisingly no heckling and bargaining rarely takes place.
So the business and loan cycle continue for the next 51 weeks. Profits used to pay back the loan, educate their children, improve their houses, expand their businesses and save for the future. Prior to microfinance, opportunities never before realized.
2 comments 27 March 2008
General Assembly
Last weekend I had the pleasure of attending Hattha Kaksekar’s annual General Assembly, held at Sihanoukville, Cambodia’s resort town. When general manager Mr. Tong invited me I initially thought it was going to just a board meeting with a day at the beach thrown in for fun. Turns out I was very wrong. HKL is a large MFI. Everyone in the organization was invited, from the top managers and directors to security guards and janitors. Over 280 people attended, descending on Sihanoukville from nine HKL branches all over Cambodia. I hitched a ride on the bus chartered by the head office. Spirits were high as we left Phnom Penh, despite temperatures hovering around 100 in the packed bus. Everyone was excited for General Assembly, which is a highly anticipated event among HKL staff. It’s a chance to reconnect with friends and co-workers from other branches, some of whom they get to see only once a year. It was a festive five-hour drive down National Route 4 to the coast. Nonstop karaoke, drums, clapping, jokes, laughter. There were several leisurely rest stops along the way where we got out to stretch and sample questionable street vendor fare. As we passed through the Elephant Mountains, half the bus emptied at a roadside Buddhist shrine to light incense and make offerings for a safe journey. This is a must on Cambodian highways, where traffic laws are non-existent and safety consists of honking your horn as you pass on blind turns. Fortunately, we had a veteran driver.
HKL had practically rented out the entire Golden Sea Hotel for the occasion. The next day, everyone dressed in their finest business outfits. Most staff wore starched blue shirts with pressed pants or skirts, while management wore dark suits. I was hopelessly underdressed, but a tucked-in collared shirt goes a long way and they seemed to cut me some slack. Things started promptly at 7:30 with seven hours of power point presentations and speeches in Khmer. I sat up front with the management team trying to follow along, but could only comprehend numbers and whatever limited translations my seatmates whispered to me. 2007 had been the “year of valentine” for HKL, which I gathered meant that everyone was supposed to treat each other with love and respect. Mr. Tong declared 2008 to be the “year of happiness and prosperity.” Seven hours of business presentations in a foreign language was a bit of a challenge, but it was interesting to get a feel for the overall structure of HKL and its goals for the future.
The most anticipated event of the weekend was the banquet. Steaming mounds of rice topped with seasoned fish, mysterious crustaceans and mollusks caught that morning from the Gulf of Thailand and fresh fruit for dessert. And, of course, endless pitchers of Angkor beer. Cambodians love Angkor, which they drink with huge chunks of ice. Being unaccustomed to this practice, I politely declined because the beer was already ice cold. This turned out to be a mistake as the night wore on. Cambodians also love toasting, clinking glasses every minute or so. Having watered-down beer enables you to endure many toasts, which is essential because this banquet was especially large and long. Just about every credit officer from all nine branches wandered over to my table that night to introduce themselves and offer a toast. Trying to remember a single Cambodian name is hard enough for me, let alone over 250, but it was great to meet the faces behind the business profiles I’ve been editing.
After dinner various speeches and pronouncements were made. The Kampong Cham branch performed a skit called “Six Ways to Make People Like You” which included cross-dressing and riotous laughter. Then a DJ played HKL’s official song (yes, they have a song), a distressingly catchy piece of Cambodian pop written, composed, and sung by members of the internal auditing team. I had this song stuck in my head the rest of the trip. Once the music started everyone got up for traditional Khmer dancing. To me, this appeared to consist of walking counter-clockwise around a table with undulating hands and arms. Didn’t look too tough. I gave it a shot, much to everyone’s delight. I soon discovered that the moves were actually very specific and complex. Trying to save me from further embarrassment, a few guys asked me to show them some “hip-hop moves.” I don’t have anything remotely resembling hip-hop moves, but I indulged them with something vague and mostly awkward. The party ended around midnight, which is late a country where most people are in bed by 9:30.
The next day was a free day. The Banteay Meanchey branch challenged the Phnom Penh branch to a soccer match and won decisively 11-3. I couldn’t play because of a smashed toe, and my moral support evidently didn’t count for much. The rest of the day I hung out with the guys from the Stoung branch, playing beach games and swimming in the warm water. Mostly they sat in the shade playing cards and drinking Angkor. Vendors hawked all sorts of stuff, from swim trunks and sea-shell trinkets to raw peanuts and grilled squid.
Lunch and dinner was banquet-style with more seafood, but nowhere near as festive as last night. Everyone was up by 5:30 the next morning for the ride back to Phnom Penh. Back to work.
Add comment 26 March 2008
Powercords and other purchases
This morning, I went downtown again and, after visiting 6 stores (luckily all in the same neighborhood) and walking a mile to the one bank that takes my ATM card (I hadn’t brought enough cash, and credit cards are taken almost nowhere), I purchased a new powercord.
Kampala seemed incredibly remote before I got here. I carefully packed Q-tips, unsure if they would be available. Now I recognize how easy it is to acquire many of the things that I need, or simply things I want. My stupid mistakes and technical difficulties can be fairly easily overcome, as when I forgot to attach an adapter when I plugged in the battery charger. Another was available in fairly short order.
At the same time, some things I took for granted are much harder to come by. I needed to print out copies of borrower profiles once I got here and accessing a printer meant taking a matatu (taxi) to the next neighborhood and purchasing copies at 500 shillings a page (about 30 cents a sheet). I am used to printing anything and everything whenever I want, but now I think carefully about whether or not I really need that page. Given the usual state of my office at home, this is a good thing.
The primary difference for me in my acquisitions is the time that it takes: taking a matatu instead of hopping in the car; going to six computer stores instead of Best Buy; waiting for someone to help me print out my files instead of doing it myself. And I admit I miss the ease of doing these tasks at home. I’ve lived alone for a long time and considered myself to be very self-sufficient. Now I’m being asked to do things in a way that I haven’t been asked to since I was a kid: to share, to wait, to take my turn, and to not always expect things to go my way. I’m glad to report that I haven’t had any temper tantrums–so far.
2 comments 25 March 2008
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