Archive for September, 2008
Honey I’m Home ( aka A Typical Kiva Day in the Office )
I am not a morning person. I know this about myself, but am starkly reminded of this fact when my alarm goes off at 6am. In a zombie trance I get out of bed, put the kettle on and have a shower. I put on the clothes I chose the night before, as I know that at 6am in the morning my brain does not work at its best and there is a high risk I may choose clothes and footwear completely impractical for riding on the back of motorbikes and sitting cross-legged on the floor. Today I head out to Bac Ninh, where SEDA has one of their regional offices and where the actual work of meeting clients, disbursing loans and collecting repayments occurs. All of the Kiva clients are serviced out of Bac Ninh and I travel there twice a week, travelling 2 ½ hours each way on 3 local buses to get there.
Back to my cup of tea. I gulp it down and head to the bus stop down the road to catch my first bus of the day. It’s 6.40am and the routine is to meet Huyen – my university student translator – at Long Bien bus depot at 7am. From there we catch the next bus to Bac Ninh. Long Bien is the largest bus depot in Hanoi and a nightmare to navigate. There is no order to the buses, no signage or timetable to indicate where you can find your particular bus. You basically wait and pray. The one positive is that it’s still early and there are less hawkers about to bother us. The Bac Ninh bus arrives and we get on quickly to ensure we get a seat. Getting a seat on a Vietnamese bus resembles a competitive sport and women get no special treatment. I try and avoid any diplomatic incidents despite what I observe, but once I saw a young man nearly trample a pregnant woman to get to a seat. I could not help myself and stood directly in front of him, loudly announcing that he should be ashamed of himself. Despite the language barrier I think everybody in the bus could understand what I was saying. At the next stop he sheepishly got up and offered the pregnant woman his seat. One thing I do admire however is the fact that older people are treated very respectfully and as soon as they board a bus, somebody will instantly get up and guide them to a seat.
It’s a 1 hour journey to Bac Ninh. Huyen and I usually chat away for the first half an hour, but then after a while we put on our respective MP3 players and listen to music to pass the time. The journey is primarily highway and the scenery would not make it onto a postcard. An hour later we reach Bac Ninh town. We disembark and walk to the bus depot to catch our next bus to Yen Phu, a small town in Bac Ninh province where the SEDA office is based. The Bac Ninh bus depot is one of the few places I get approached by beggars. There is one particular young man – I’d guess early 20s – with a severe limp and facial disfigurement who is there every week. The first time we saw him Huyen told me not to give him money as he would most certainly be hired by somebody to beg and would have to pay his ‘pimp’ the bulk of his takings. This knowledge coupled with telling myself that I am already doing some good by volunteering in Vietnam for 4 months makes me feel more comfortable about ignoring the beggars.
Our last bus arrives and we board for the final 45 minutes journey to Yeh Phu. In contrast this is a stunning journey and I still enjoy looking out over the rice fields and slices of life in the small villages we pass. Then we arrive at Yen Phu. It’s 9.30am and it feels like we have done a full day’s work already, but we have just begun.
On the Way to Yen Phu
On The Way to Yen Phu
We are warmly welcomed by the SEDA credit officers. Then onto the back of a motorbike and off we go to visit clients. The credit officers have 3 days of client interaction – Tuesday through to Thursday. In the morning they have their weekly repayment collection meetings and in the afternoon they disburse new loans. On Monday and Friday they are in the office catching up on paperwork. I enjoy the motorbike rides out to visit clients. The preparation beforehand is hilarious. I basically lather my face, arms and neck in sun-cream, put on sunglasses and sometimes a hat. And that’s it. The locals however have a much more fastidious routine. They wear long shirts, gloves, hats and face masks to ensure that no skin whatsoever is exposed to the sun and that they stay white. It makes me laughingly think of the women back home who pay a lot of money for regular fake sun-tans.
All Covered Up and Ready to Go
We drive through all manner of surrounds – narrow village laneways, along canals, pass cemeteries, through rice fields- arriving at the location for our first collection meeting. The meetings are usually held in a central location such as a school, pagoda or a home and we will meet with 4-5 groups at once. I always get a little nervous at schools as invariably one of the students sees me and then bedlam ensues. They leave their classrooms and jump and dance around singing “hello, hello, hello”. After a few minutes a teacher will appear and yell or dramatically bang a drum and they scurry back to class. Occasionally some persistent little rascals will remain throughout the meetings, intriguingly observing us.
On the Way to Clients
On the Way to Clients
Hello, Hello, Hello
The credit officer meets with each group leader one by one and collects the weekly repayments. I then enquire if I can ask them a few questions. It never ceases to amaze me how open the clients are with a complete stranger and they patiently answer my questions about their family finances, families and hopes for the future. Interview over, I ask if I may take a photo. This usually draws a response of nervous laughter and protestations that they are not suitably dressed for a photo. The credit officers interject telling them that’s nonsense and that they look fine, so they acquiesce whilst patting down their hair or straightening a shirt – the response to having a photo taken really is universal! One time while I was taking photos of clients, one of them was taking a photo of me with their phone – the shoe very firmly on the other foot!
The meeting is repeated 3 times at separate locations and we usually meet with 10 -15 groups per session. Lunchtime. The Vietnamese take their lunchbreaks very seriously. Usually we drive back to the office and will have lunch at one of the food stalls in Yen Phu. Occasionally we are too far from the office and may have lunch at a client’s home. I am always humbled by our client’s hospitality when we visit their homes. They are always delighted to see me and dust off their best chair for me to sit down on. Cups of tea will be thrust into my hand and instantly refilled the moment they are empty. It’s an honour when we eat with them but I also feel a little guilty that we are taking food from their families’ mouths. I quash the strong desire to ask the credit officers to give them some money for the meal as I know that would be incredibly insulting. Thankfully for my western conscience we don’t have meals with clients very often.
After lunch we have disbursement meetings where new loans are distributed. These are large meetings as every member of the group must attend, so 20 – 30 women may be in attendance. These meetings are held in a public area as a home could not comfortably contain this many people. The credit officers commence by talking about loan discipline, the importance of meeting their repayment obligations and also of making savings. Typically a SEDA client will also have a savings account where they will contribute 5,000 Vietnamese Dong ( $US 0.30 ) a week in savings. That does not seem like a lot – and it isn’t – but instilling a behaviour of savings is important and even a small amount will ultimately pay dividends. Once the ‘pep talk’ is over, the groups approach one by one and each member of the group needs to sign a basic contract acknowledging that they have received the funds and will repay accordingly. It’s very businesslike and the women usually count their loans to ensure they have received all their funds. One woman once made me laugh as she did not like the fact that some of her notes were old, so she emphatically asked the credit officer for newer notes!
A Loan Disbursement Meeting at a More Subdued Moment
Making it All Official
About 2 – 3 disbursement meetings are held in an afternoon and then it’s back to the office. It’s typically 4 – 4.30pm and Huyen and I bid the Yen Phu team good-bye. We trudge back to the bus stop, fervently praying that we don’t have to wait too long for the bus. The longest we have had to wait is 50 minutes! There is absolutely nothing at the Yen Phu bus station so that was 50 of the longest minutes of my life. Eventually the bus arrives and we commence our 3 return bus journeys. The music I choose on the way back to Hanoi tends to be mellow as I am often reflecting on the clients I have met and the sneak peek I have had into their lives. I am always in admiration of the resilience, hospitality and sheer hard work demonstrated by the Kiva clients – there is no ‘woe is me’ self pitying attitude.
Eventually, mercifully, I turn the key and enter my apartment. In reality it’s modest but in contrast to where I have been today it’s palatial. It’s already dark and usually between 7 and 7.30pm. I immediately head to my shower as I am always sweaty and grimy. I cook a modest meal and usually treat myself to ice-cream. Exhausted it’s early to bed, but satisfied that in a small way I am doing my bit to help.
This is what I do two days a week. They are long, hot and tiring days, but they are also my favourite days of the week.
4 comments 30 September 2008
Breaking the tri-Cycle of Poverty
Hello! My name is Kieran and I am a Kiva Fellow, sixth iteration. I am currently sitting on a turbulent flight back home to London after an intense week of training at Kiva’s San Francisco offices. I am sad to be leaving, slightly worried about the ancient aircraft I’m on (hoping that the technology is more up-to-date than the Nintendo Gameboy headphones the flight attendant is handing out), but excited about my impending assignment in Cambodia.
The past week has been an eye-opening, exhilarating, and potentially life-changing experience. The outstanding training we received was topped only by the friendliness and generosity of the Kiva staff we met. The enthusiasm and motivation of everyone at Kiva was a hurricane of fresh air. It felt like we’d just joined a little known pop band called The Beatles. You can tell from the buzz as soon as you walk into the office that Kiva is doing great things, and doing them well.
But wait… rewind… I wanted to share a little story about my first unwitting discovery of the concept of microfinance…
In 2006 I was fortunate enough to be travelling in China with my mum (that’s British for “mom” to any readers from the States). We had been there for a couple of weeks but were beginning to tire of the constant pollution in the cities, so we decided to head for the countryside on a public bus. Upon arriving in yet another small town, we realised the only way we were going to see the countryside was to flag down a rickshaw, essentially a three-wheeled pedal bike with a double seat at the back for passengers.
Our guide was in his twenties, eager to take us, and clearly not a smoker, as he proceeded to pedal the three of us up several long hills until we reached the outskirts of the town. He somehow managed to answer all of my mother’s questions about the surrounding sights whilst pedalling and maintaining a flow of oxygen to his lungs. At times, even his Olympic standard legs seemed to tire, and I willingly jumped out to give us a push. Intrigued as to how difficult it must be, I offered to take over pedalling, an offer which he politely refused. It was clearly a matter of pride, but I wasn’t backing down.
After my mum had explained in Mandarin that I simply wanted to have a go as I was considering a career change, he laughed and relinquished his saddle. “Hold onto your hats” I cheerfully joked. Little did I know that seconds later I would be eating my own proverbial hat. I climbed on and began trying to pedal on a relatively flat stretch of road. I say pedal, but that requires there to have actually been pedals, instead of the blocks of shiny wood that took their place. Time and time again my feet slipped off these zero-grip shin-bashers, causing great pain and the loss of much needed momentum. A brief attempt at a hill and it was game over.
It's steeper than it looks ok!
Curious to understand how, or indeed why, he had chosen to effectively take it upon himself to replace the internal combustion engine, my mother peppered him with questions. By the top of the hill we understood that he hired the rickshaw from a guy in the town for 200 Yuan ($25) per month, and that in the summer months this usually generated between 400 and 600 Yuan per month of revenue, but only 300 to 400 Yuan per month in the off-season. Most of his profits were sent home to support his family, leaving him just enough to live on. With a maximum profit margin of $50 per month, this didn’t amount to much.
By the bottom of the next hill we had discovered that to buy his own rickshaw would cost 1000 Yuan, around $150. My mum and I sat in silence, except for the sound of her translating to me, shocked at the idea that such a relatively small amount of money to us, would transform this young man’s life from one of eternally scraping-by to potentially doubling his monthly profits.
Unbeknown to us, thirty years earlier a forward-thinking economics professor had come to a similar conclusion. He went on to found the internationally respected Grameen bank and later earned the Nobel Peace Prize. We just sat like in silence and scratched our heads.
With a quick calculation one could estimate that with a loan of $150 over 12 months, even at 20% flat interest rate (worst case rate taken from Chinese microfinance organisation www.wokai.org), monthly repayments would be $15, which would still have increased his profits by $10 per month as he would not have to pay the monthly $25 hire cost.
This little revelation sparked my interest in microfinance and resulted in me being stuck in the Deep Vein Thrombosis-prone position I am at this moment. The idea behind microfinance is to allow people, like our rickshaw guide, access to traditional financial services so that they have the opportunity to break the cycle of poverty, or in this case, the tricycle of poverty (just in case you didn’t still hadn’t got the title of this blog).
The unique concept pioneered by Kiva enables people like me, my mum, or anyone with internet access, to lend to thousands of people like this, to know exactly who we are lending to, and for what purpose, and even better, to find out what happened as a result of our loan. Our driver probably wouldn’t have accepted our money if we’d offered to give him $150 – I could tell by his reluctance to let me have a go at pedalling that he was a proud man. But he may have accepted a loan. Unfortunately at the time we had no way of facilitating a loan agreement, and we regret that. But thanks to Kiva, we are now able to make such partnerships with similar entrepreneurs all over the world.
Thank you Kiva!
PS I’ll try and keep my next blog shorter!
15 comments 24 September 2008
…It’s DR Time!
Hello from Providence, RI! I can report that the New England autumn is rolling in right on cue. It is a time of year that I will be a little sad to miss; it’s crisp, completely refreshing, goes deliciously with hot coffee and your most treasured sweatshirt. The season, the city, my former college campus (as of this past May) will each receive their own “goodbye for now” before I drive back home to Washington DC and then fly to the Dominican Republic (departure: Oct 15th).
As many Kiva Fellows have reported—last week’s training was a standout experience. Our time was well-stocked with key agenda items—from learning specific Kiva internet technologies to understanding the Kiva vision, experience, challenges, and goals. I came out of the training with more respect for Kiva’s model than any other service or non-profit model I have worked with previously—Kiva is a place for innovation, creativity, humility, self-critique, patience, and very, very hard work.
What I Do Know…
It remains to be seen how everything in this Fellowship will work “on the ground.”
I did volunteer work in the DR in 2002, and got a summer worth of nonstop Dominican Spanish, food, dancing, sights, and sounds. In this way, I am fortunate, since I am not going to a completely unknown place. That first trip was something I could not have done without: complete with little to no electricity, no English, no plumbing, and nothing urban. I pretty much culture-shocked myself silly back then, at 17. Fast-forward through four college years of liberal arts studies, wanting to change the world, theories of globalization, a dash of economics, international politics, and studies of sustainable development (oh, and not to be left out: playing rugby, lots of it). Pause. Now a 23 year-old college grad, sick and tired of all that theory and macro-level data (and eternally grateful for the rugby) who’d just like and everything to be as hands-on as possible. Time to DO, not sit, time to work face-to-face, rather than read. Well, thank goodness for the Kiva Fellows program! In this light, the upcoming “unknowns” are very much welcome.
In specific terms, I know that I will be spending a good deal of time at Kiva’s partner institution, Esperanza. This organization has several social interests and activities, including microfinance. Esperanza is also a religiously rooted organization, which I have never before experienced. I’ll wait and see how those dynamics play out—and of course, I’ll write about it. The main headquarters are in the capital, Santo Domingo, and branch offices are spread out elsewhere. I expect that I will spend times in all of these locations, if not more. Below is the start of my DR map (I’ll keep working on it), with some of the areas where Esperanza/Kiva entrepreneurs are–(make sure to zoom!)
There will certainly be a good deal of traveling to do! Perfect. More to come soon.
For the partner info about Esperanza please go here: http://www.kiva.org/about/aboutPartner?id=44
For the independent Esperanza site please go to: http://esperanza.org/us
Take care!
Kalie Gold
Kiva Fellow (KF6)
Dominican Republic
3 comments 24 September 2008
Comedy White Man
Anyone who has spent time in some of the more remote parts of Africa will probably shrug their shoulders at my observations. But as a first time visitor it’s hard not to feel like a bit of a celebrity, at least with the children. Wherever you go, kids stop and look. Sometimes they laugh or point and every now and then they wave and shout ‘white man!’
At first I was a little taken aback, but now it has become quite routine. Mostly I rather enjoy being the local novelty and giving a wave as I walk or ride past.
Earlier this week we visited one of GHAPE’s established centres in the lush countryside that surrounds the town of Bamenda. An elderly women was leading the group in a quiet prayer in Pigeon English. As she solemnly continued, a small child walked into the meeting, then stopped in the middle of the room and exclaimed loudly ‘white man!’
Just occasionally it becomes a little wearing. There is a gaggle of kids who play near my house who are always around to greet me when I return from work. The youngest girl, who is perhaps four, and very sweet, says ‘hello… hello… hello…’ repeatedly when she sees me. It doesn’t help to reply: she still carries on in her little voice, ‘hello… hello… hello…’
Further down the road there are three children who find me most amusing. As I climb the track to pass their house they always gather, smiling and waving. When I return the greeting they burst into fits of animated giggles. I thought after time the novelty might wear off, but it seems I’m still as funny as ever.
Click here to see if any GHAPE borrowers in Cameroon are currently fundraising on Kiva.
Alternatively click here to view other African loans you can support.
1 comment 24 September 2008
Saludos!
Hi friends. I’m Whitney, newly-minted Kiva Fellow, class 6, headed to Managua, Nicaragua.
I am so ready to go.
The extensive 5-day training at the Kiva offices in San Francisco stimulated every facet of my mind. Having a background more in exploration than finance, the prospect of living abroad is absolutely thrilling and rather accessible, while gaining confidence in my capacity to convey the inspiration and functionality of Kiva in Spanish is my struggle.
That, and the daunting task of learning to navigate a sizeable Central American city largely devoid of street names.
I am honored, and frankly surprised, to be included in such a worthy group of 29 others chosen to be the face of Kiva on the ground. Fortunately, Kiva values a wide range of experiences, so my frequent flyer miles allow me join the ranks of journalists, graduate students, financial analysts and marathon runners. At the end of my 10 week fellowship, I intend to be well-versed in microfinance and a decent bachata dance partner.
Nicaragua films coming soon – in the meantime, please enjoy my favorite video I’ve collected on the road, shot outside of Siem Reap in August 2005.
1 comment 24 September 2008
When Primates Attack (And Other Tales of Fellows’ Mayhem and Adventure)
As the next round of Kiva Fellows finished their training, Nabomita, Zack, and Julie (KF5) met for a weekend getaway in Mombasa, Kenya. During our reunion, we came up with some words to live by both for successfully completing your fellowship and for happily taking a respite from the rigors of life at an MFI. Read on, for our pearls of wisdom.
1) Don’t let the signs fool you; greasing an Immigration Official’s palm can buy you entry into a foreign country
After 8 hours on a bus from Dar es Salaam, Nabomita and Julie reached the Kenyan border only to face the reality of parting with $50 each to enter the country (the equivalent of 250 delicious breakfast chapatis.) Luckily rules in Kenya—even those pertaining to immigration status—are flexible. After a few minutes of talking to the official who was clearly looking for some sort of entertainment (evident through his use of different cartoon voices for each passing visitor) he indicated that he might be willing to help us get into the country if we could make his Ramadan feast a nicer one. Watching him sip on a Fanta Orange at 3:30pm, we were naturally skeptical that he, in fact, had an Iftar in his future, but we decided to let it slide. We were able to buy our visas for $30 each and he even gave us his email address should we confront problems trying to reenter Tanzania. It was difficult to fathom how we would be able to use this address to solicit his aid if stopped at the border, but he handed us the post-it note with such gusto that it almost made us believe it wasn’t worthless.
2) Don’t be afraid to use your muzungu status to sneak in to 5-star resorts
On our first morning at our dodgy “cottage” down the beach, we felt the call of the resorts farther north and tried to wash the dirt out from under our fingernails well enough so that we could pass as luxury vacationers. The resort staff welcomed us suspiciously to join their exclusively European, golden-anniversary-celebrating clients. The only issue arose as we tried to maintain our tight $5-per-day budget while sipping on a glass of their $8 juice. Eventually we resorted to the only food there we could afford: a fresh coconut, the milk of which quenched our thirst while the meat sustained us until we got back to our side of the beach. The lesson here is that while you might be able to get in because of your status as foreigner, it does not necessarily mean you can afford to be there.
3) Don’t let the bottle fool you—spray on sunscreen still needs to be rubbed in
Julie—the palest member of the trio—made the tactical error of spraying herself with SPF 15 sunscreen without rubbing it in in an attempt to spare her hands from yucky sunscreen residue. Believing it would air dry, Julie looked down five hours later to see that she resembled a leper (no offense to lepers). The pattern of the sunburn was so random that it made one wonder if someone had taken a paintbrush to create sunburn abstract art on her legs and stomach. The next two days resulted in Julie’s new-found modesty as she alternated between applying soothing aloe and trying to hide the offending legs in long pants at the beach.
- Paintbrush strokes of sunburn and a geometric sternum burn (and pants to hide the offending legs)
4) Thieves are not only found walking through bustling markets. They can enter your room, and they don’t even have to be evolved
After a breakfast of champions (Nutella and crackers), the trio wandered the 50 meters to the beach while leaving their cottage door ajar. Upon returning a few minutes later, we walked in on 5 monkeys boldly making away with a yet unopened package of crackers from inside the room. That the monkeys knew the crackers were to be found under Zack’s moldy clothing demonstrates that they had been spying on us through the windows all morning and awaiting our departure. In an attempt to win his crackers back, Zack set peanut butter and biscuit traps but the monkeys knew better and stayed away to enjoy their feast. This was a harbinger of things to come (raw unedited monkey battle video forthcoming)
Stealthy monkey and the stolen crackers (he even has a cracker hanging out of his mouth)
5) When using your guidebooks keep in mind that they probably haven’t been updated in 5 to 10 years
Reading about the only Mexican restaurant in East Africa led the fellows to salivate over the thought of margaritas and guacamole for the five hours leading up to dinner. After taking three matatus, one ferry, and two tuktuks we finally arrived at the anticipated source of our greatest meal in Africa. Perplexed by the void where the restaurant should have been, we asked some loitering locals where we could find our enchiladas. After a few minutes of confusion as to what we were asking, the locals informed us that said restaurant was not only closed, but had closed in 2003, never to reopen. Having eaten nothing for the previous five hours in preparation for the grand feast, the ravenous fellows exclaimed in despair at the revelation. Unable to think clearly through the hunger we started wandering until we came upon an immaculate seaside restaurant—the kitchen of which was closed. Sure we would collapse before our blood sugar levels were restored, we made our way to the middle-school hangout of upperclass suburban Mombasa to satiate our hunger with bagfuls of movie popcorn and paneer pies. Never put your life or your stomach in the hands of Lonely Planet.
6) Just because you’re taking some time off does not mean you get to escape the hassles of Africa
After months of solo travel, the group discovered that even strength in numbers does not deter drunken suitors. Walking through Mombasa, Julie and Nabomita were berated by an incoherent local for being “thieves” and “robbers”. Despite being impressed that he knew both of those words in English, they sped up their pace. Undeterred, he followed them all of the way to the ferry, volume and rage-level increasing. “If he touches either of us, I’ll break his hand,” Julie affirmed to Nabomita. Her deadpan indicated that she might even be looking forward to having a violent outburst. Stepping up to play his role as Man of the Group, Zack tried to place himself between the offending man and the ready-to-pounce women. Unfortunately, Zack’s strategic positioning made him the victim of an ill-aimed blown kiss as the drunk man landed one right on Zack’s shoulder. Julie lunged, ready to fight, but Zack wisely told her that she need not jump—he liked it a little bit. At this point, we remembered that Africa’s hassles are typically as harmless as butterfly kisses.
7) You’re not alone; whatever bizaro experiences you’re having, one of the other fellows can probably empathize
From the moment Zack, Nabomita, and Julie met up, there was no lull in the conversation. Having experienced so much in our completed months in Africa, it was refreshing to tell our respective stories and find that even though we’d gone through them alone, many were shared experiences. From daily hassles to minor victories, work-related questions to poverty alleviation philosophizing, talking to people who could truly understand the work we’d been pouring ourselves into was incredibly therapeutic. If you connected with fellows at karaoke, the conference room, or the comfy sofas at Kiva headquarters, do what you can to stay in touch—and even better, take a long weekend to regroup. You’ll need it.
Much love,
Nabomita, Zack, and Julie
- Nabomita, Zack, and Julie (KF5) in Mombasa, Kenya
2 comments 23 September 2008
From California to Sudan
11 comments 21 September 2008
Making the most of Medex
As I wrote in my last blog entry, my weekend’s planned excursions included a climb up the tallest statue of Jesus in the world (disappointing—turns out he’s closed on Sundays) and a hike in nearby Tunari national park. It also included an unplanned visit to the Clinica Belga Boliviana, the fanciest-sounding hospital in my Lonely Planet guidebook. I had learned the hard way that angry dogs really do bite you in the butt, just like countless cartoon mailmen. I told the clinic’s emergency room attendant that I’d been attacked by a wild dog in the woods and wanted a rabies shot. “Sure, take a seat,” he told me. I winced—talk about adding insult to injury.
Feeling his pain
After 30 minutes or so, a doctor called me in. I told her what had happened: I was hiking in a national park, minding my own business and enjoying my Saturday afternoon, when four dogs started barking at me then attacked me out of nowhere, one of them managing to rip out a small chunk of my bum. I expected to be applauded for having the good sense to go get my rabies shot immediately after having been bitten by a strange dog in the woods, but instead the doctor just clucked her tongue.
“You know, the best thing to do in these situations is to control the dog. Could you go find this dog?”
I was confused, not sure if she was actually asking me to go out alone in search of the potentially rabid dog, who was roaming free in a national park some 45 minutes away, probably gloating over the tiny piece of a gringa’s butt he had won earlier that day. I told her I really wasn’t comfortable capturing the dog and bringing him back to the clinic for observation. The doctor sighed again, and tried to convince me that this vaccine would be a hassle:
“It’s expensive… you’ll have to come back 5 times… you might get jaundice… you really don’t think you could find this dog?”
I was starting to feel kind of silly and spoiled. Why had my parents never taught me any useful skills, like animal trapping? Thirteen years of violin lessons weren’t doing me much good right now. But, as spoiled as I felt, I was determined to get my shots. After having written a report on rabies for Mrs. Cornwall’s 9th grade health class, I had definitively decided that I did not want to die from rabies.
After some poking and prodding, the on-duty doctor finally called the dog-bite-specialist-doctor at home. I caught some whispered snippets of their conversation:
“Hello, Doctor? So sorry to call you at home… foreign girl here… wild dog in the woods… told her to control it, but… doesn’t want to go find it…. I know… I know… Yes, OK, thank you doctor.”
She turned to me. “All right, show me the wound.”
Finally, I thought. I tried to moon the doctor as respectfully as possible and hopped onto the stretcher. Just as she started to clean up the bloody mess, a call went out over the PA system: the doctor was needed to attend to a patient arriving by ambulance. I was left, alone and exposed on a stretcher, for what felt like an eternity (but was probably 30 minutes). Various hospital personnel wandered in and out of the room, seemingly oblivious to my delicate situation as a half-naked, potentially rabid foreigner. Well, at least this will make a decent blog entry when it’s all over, I thought to myself. Not quite Jessica-getting-malaria-in-Nigeria-good, but decent.
Things turned out my way in the end—the good doctor returned, bandaged my bum, gave me my first of five rabies shots, and sent me on my way with just a slight limp and some holes in my pants (and my butt) to show for my afternoon adventure. Now I’m following the locals’ (and T.R.’s) advice to always use Big Stick Diplomacy. Not my favorite foreign policy in U.S. history, but it sure does the trick with Bolivian dogs.
To see all AgroCapital clients currently fundraising on Kiva, click here
7 comments 19 September 2008
A Healthy Dose of Optimism
From the first time I happened across the Kiva Fellows website, I knew I had to apply. Here was an opportunity to witness first-hand the successes and challenges of microfinance (the most promising poverty alleviation strategy I’ve come across), become fluent in French, and be a part of the cross-cultural, astonishingly successful microlending revolution that is Kiva!! I generally tend to be somewhat pessimistic – my personal motto is “Expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed.” This time, however, against my better judgment, I let myself get excited.
A year and a half later, that excitement has paid off. I am now at the Kiva Fellows training in San Francisco, spending hours showering Matt and Premal, Kiva’s Founder and President, with every question I’ve ever had about the organization. At the week-long training, 29 other Fellows-to-be and I are cramming our heads with everything there is to know about Kiva before jumping on planes to work with Field Partners all across the globe.
As I said, my high expectations coming into the training conflicted with my standard self-preserving pessimistic attitude. But this time, counter to my personal motto, high expectations left me far from disappointed. On the contrary, learning more about Kiva and meeting the staff has reinforced my enthusiasm for Kiva’s mission and potential. These days, it’s hard to believe in anything for fear of being naive, but the entire staff at Kiva seems to have conquered that fear – along with the 300,000-plus people who lend on Kiva’s site!
On November 3rd, I will leave the US to serve Kiva for 3 months in Togo and 3 months in Senegal. Inevitably, no matter how many questions we Fellows ask and how much training we receive, we won’t be prepared for what we are about to experience in the coming months. All we can do is pack our bags and – dare I say it – hope for the best.
8 comments 19 September 2008
The strange world of blogging…
This is my first blog as a kiva fellow and as an individual, so perhaps I will use this time to introduce myself to anyone in the internet community who would like to know. I am Jen McQuhae, 22, from Vancouver Island, Canada. I recently completed a four year honours degree in international development with a major in economics at the University of McGill in Montreal. I have been fortunate enough to spend a great deal of my recent past travelling to a number of countries and working in a variety of contexts. My last adventure was to Kenya and Tanzania where I worked in HIV clinics, public schools and orphanages. I have recently been accepted to the Kiva Fellows Program and will be heading to Cameroon to work with an organization called GHAPE in a couple of weeks.
If you have no idea what Kiva is and what they do, stop reading this blog. Go to their website, right now. I’m serious, kiva.org. It is the most amazing non-profit out there. I know I may be a somewhat biased opinion on that, considering I am working for them at this point. But its true. Kiva is a non-profit organization that allows individuals to lend money to individuals in developing countries who would not otherwise have access to credit. This money is used to expand their businesses, whether it be through the purchase of a new cow, or a fridge, these people are able to do so much with these smalls loans, ideally helping them to move to a higher income bracket. Kiva works with partner microfinance institutions (MFI), who are already overseas and have been working to expand credit and often other financial services to the poor. They allow these MFIs to choose the clients they would like displayed and funded on Kiva, and to provide the information Kiva requires to create a profile on these clients. Kiva will only fund up to 30% of an MFIs client base, as they don’t want the MFI to become too dependent on Kiva. Everything at Kiva is done in the most sustainable way possible.
We (the fellows) have spent the past four days training at the head office in San Francisco to prepare for our postings all over the world. There are 30 of us, from all different backgrounds with varied goals and passions. It is really inspiring to see such a vibrant group of individuals come together for a cause like this. Howerver, the staff at Kiva have really impressed me and made me feel hugely connected to the Kiva cause. I have never seen such a high energy and postive group of individuals working towards such a great cause. Everyone at the office has been so eager to improve Kiva and receive feedback, it truly is wonderful to see. It is strange how attached I have become to Kiva in just four days of training, I cannot imagine how obsessed I will be when I return from working overseas.
I should probably leave it at that considering it is 5 AM right now, and I need to wake up soon to get ready for my last day of training with Kiva. I will be posting a number of updates from Cameroon on this blog; the easiest way to find the posts it seems is to click on either GHAPE or Cameroon from the right hand Categories list on this website. I am new to all this blogging stuff, but I am excited to be sharing the stories and experiences with people across the globe. Well, see you in Cameroon!
5 comments 19 September 2008
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