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.
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!
…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
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.
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.
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
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
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.
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!
KF6 Fellow in Bosnia says hello
My name is Milena Arciszewski and I will be serving as a Kiva Fellow for a full year in Bosnia, Kenya and possibly Tanzania and Cambodia. My first placement is in Zene za Zene in Sarajevo, which targets women affected by the genocide of the 1990s.
I have to say… I am so excited to be doing this! For two years, I have worked in a cubicle coated with pictures of giraffes and elephants, daydreaming of escaping the office to pursue a career in international development. The Kiva Fellowship feels like my golden ticket.
Training has been awesome. We eat curry pizza. Shoes are optional in the office. I am learning so so much. It is the first training session I have attended where “projectile vomiting” seems to be a part of the job description.
Hopefully by mid-October I will be blogging about the amazing ladies In Sarajevo! I will try to capture the small details.. the smell of the soup cooking in their kitchens; the dynamic between the family dog and cat. More soon!
3 Weeks ‘Till Sierra Leone
Everyone can breathe easy again. After a brief hiatus between Kiva Fellow rotations, you will be experiencing again soon the joys of reading fresh, new blogs from the field in Sierra Leone. Hi, I’m Adam Grenier and I’m your new Kiva Fellow heading to Sierra Leone, Africa. You will witness this exciting adventure thru my eyes. I hope you enjoy it.
Sierra Leone is located on the west coast of Africa, bordered by Guinea in the northeast, Liberia in the southeast, and the Atlantic Ocean to the southwest. Want to see it on a world map? Check this out.
I’ll be spending 13 weeks beginning in mid-October with Salone Microfinance Trust. Salone is nearing $500,000 in Kiva funds received by you, our incredible lenders, since it joined in partnership with Kiva 15 months ago. The people there are eager to expand upon their partnership with Kiva. I look forward to contributing to this effort and sharing it all with you.
My Kiva Fellow training wraps up tomorrow. I leave Rhode Island for Sierra Leone in 3 weeks on October 9. In the meantime, consider joining my new lending team dedicated to fulfilling funds needed for our entrepreneurs in Sierra Leone. The team name is Sierra Leone Supporters.
Until I come up with a catchy sign-off, I will just say ‘goodbye’ for now.
Goodbye, Adam 
Mambo Jambo
Jambo everyone! Or, to prove that I’m “in the know”, Mambo!
Okay, so these may be the only two words I know in Swahili at this point, but I am expecting/hoping that my vocabulary will exponentially increase in the next 13 weeks. At this moment, I am sitting among 29 other, and infinitely more interesting than I, future Fellows in a training session at Kiva headquarters. Here at the Kiva office we have been overeating and learning how to be the very best Fellows we can be (which of course includes learning how to post on this blog!).
This initial post is intended to be both a test run of our blogging skills (mine resemble those of a chimpanzee who has found access to internet) and an introduction. So, hello, mambo, etc.. my name is Sarah Forbes and I will be working as a Kiva Fellow in Africa for 10 months. My first placement will be with K-MET, the Kisumu Medical and Education Trust, in Kisumu, Kenya, with two other placements to follow elsewhere.
It is hard to convey through this post just how excited I am to be working with Kiva, in the company of so many fantastic individuals. It would just take too many exclamation points. Rather than blow your mind with those, I’ll end this post now, but keep your fingers crossed for Swahili success stories in the future!
Wiki watching: Power to the Bottom
I’m here at Kiva HQ, training as part of KF6, or Kiva fellows class 6. Short take: there is an amazing amount to learn before we go into the field, and these Kiva people — staff, volunteers — are amazing.
We’re learning about Kiva, the organization, how it came to be and where it’s going. We’ve been taught more about microfinance, and how Kiva partners with and works to strengthen the institutions in the field that actually do the lending. We’re getting a crash course in the technologies that help make this all happen. And we’re finding a little time for social activities, sharing stories, and getting to know each other. Kiva is feeding us well. They even let us out for exercise once in a while.
I’ll be arriving in Cambodia for the start of my fellowship in mid-October. How to remember all that we’re learning this week? Fortunately, that series of tubes called the Internet provides some major assist.
You’ve probably heard of Wikipedia, the encylopedic mother of all brain dumps. Fellows have their own mini-version, a Kiva Fellows wiki that we can contribute to and learn from: travel advice, blogging tips, country profiles, forums with debates over interest rates, and more. Besides the Fellows’ wiki, there’s also Kivapedia, an all things Kiva wiki that anyone can use and help edit.
These wikis, and other Web 2.0 technologies, have been so useful that Newsweek even decided it would make good fodder for an article about how Kiva (among others) uses them to goose collaboration from a far-flung network of staff and volunteers. The article, Power to the Bottom, showcases Kiva’s own Dan Zuckerman, a Fellow who just returned from Tajikistan.
Conclusion: wikis are pretty cool. Off-topic: Will someone let me know when the Weeki Wachee wiki goes online?
Kiva volunteer Sarah Wan teaches KF6 Fellows the ways of the wiki
Let the countdown begin….
Personally, I really enjoy preparing for a big trip to some far away place. There are so many unknowns: what will I see, who will I meet, what will I eat, and what type of terrifying illness will I suffer? But preparing for three months in Tajikistan has been a bit different.
With only a little more than two weeks until my departure, I still have a some pretty important items to secure – like a visa and some very very warm clothing. I am cramming to learn some essential Russian and Tajiki phrases so that I can actually get myself from the airport in Tashkent, Uzbekistan to my home in Khujand, Tajikistan. And, I still have a few more steps to wrapping up my most recent venture: learning to eat meat (particularly goat and lamb) for the first time in 10 years. Despite all of the unknowns and the very full ‘to-do list’, I am excited to get started.
Right now I am finishing up the most important step of my preparations – training to become a Kiva Fellow. I am currently at Kiva’s offices in San Francisco with around 30 of my fellow Fellows. We have spent an intense week learning the intricacies of Microfinance, Kiva operations, and working with our Microfinance Institutions (MFI).
I am excited to be working with IMON, which has a reputation for being an established and well run MFI. IMON supports entrepreneurs throughout Tajikistan by providing them access to high-quality financial services and products. They work with a variety of projects in the trade, manufacturing, and agricultural fields. Click here if you’d like to see current fundraising opportunities for their entrepreneurs’ loans.
Hello, cool world!
I’m the only fellow headed to Azerbaijan from Kiva Fellows 6, so I’m pretty excited to bring word of this fascinating region to those of you who make Kiva such a success. I’ll be visiting each of Kiva’s partner microfinance institutions in the region to assist them in any way I can, support Kiva, journal and train the MFIs on new software systems being put into place.
I’ve never been to the Caucasus. It’s largely a blank slate to me. What the Lonely Planet, my Azeri taxi driver last night and previous Kiva Fellows in the area, such as Jonathan Buser, say is that it’s a real crossroads: a blend of post-Soviet bureacracy, Shi’ite Islam, impoverished “internally displaced persons,” fabulously wealthy petrocapitalists living off the transport of oil and natural gas from east to west and the ex-pats who help that happen. I’ll be living in Baku (birthplace of chess grandmaster Garry Kasparov), the capital, for 6-10 weeks, and then moving on to my next destination for Kiva (Mongolia?) for the remainder of my 6-month fellowship.
I really hope to shed some light for people on this poorly understood region and its challenges for all of you. I’ll do my best.
–Mark Bulliet, KF6
From KF6 Training in San Francisco: a practice blog
Everyone is this is room is an experienced traveler. Collectively, we’ve ventured to the farthest corners of the globe. Most have spent time in the developing world. Yet, the excitement level is off the charts as we prepare for our adventures. I’m humbled by the extraordinary company I find myself so privileged to among. The learning challenge surpasses my expectations; there’s so much to learn! This the type of volunteer challenge I’ve been seeking. One that satisfies a profound social mission while providing a meaningful life expereince and a rare opportunity to get under the skin of an entirely different culture. Like any adventure, I have goals but little concept of what to expect. Things will unfold as they will. But I must say that JD (our exceptionally talented trainer) and team are doing an amazing job turning us from civilians to capable Kiva Fellows — these guys are he real deal! What an impressive organization!
I’ll be traveling to Uganda on October 1 to work BRAC. My excitement is tempered only by stress caused by the long list of things I still need to get done before leaving for 3 months. It seems every item I cross off my list of things to do, 2 or 3 new ones are added. It’s endless! Visa’s, vaccinations, lodging, research, PA2 practice, waterproof ziplock bags, extra batteries, etc – ugh!
I hope I will be a great Fellow. I hope I will advance the ball, if just a bit, in the war against poverty. I hope I will return a better man – wiser, more humble and compassionate and with greater clarify as to my purpose and priorities. 
And I hope I can find a job quickly in January!
In haste. My next blog entry will come from Uganda, sometime in the first half of October. I’m tryinig to imagine what that will be like ….
Why Hello There
I am Eviatar Frankel, the new Kiva Fellow for Samoa. Starting in October, I will be spending three months working with South Pacific Business Development (SPBD), the MFI there. Afterward, I will probably be going to Vietnam for another three months, but we’re working on that. Currently, I am in San Francisco for a week long training for all the fellows in this sixth class. It’s been a great experience so far- learning all about microfinance and Kiva, meeting some great people, and having some good fun. The amount of information is empowering, but the complexity can be intimidating at times. At least we get to participate in fun activities like skits and practicing writing a blog. Hanging out with Kiva employees and my fellow fellows has been a lot of fun. I’ve never been so immersed in a group of kind, intelligent people concerned with the poverty around the world. In the evenings, we went to a sweet African restaurant, a cool (pun intended) trolly tour of the city, salsa dancing, and enjoyed some delicious margaritas. I’m already starting to miss this experience, but I will try to focus on enjoying it while it lasts. I look forward to posting more from beautiful Samoa.
View of The Bridge from the Trolly Tour
Cheers!
Allow me to introduce myself
My name is Cassie DeFillipo, and I am one of the new Kiva Fellows currently training in San Francisco and preparing to head out into the field to serve as a liason for Kiva and its microfinance institutions in Africa. I will be spending my first three months at CRAN (Christian Rural Aid Network) on the coast of Ghana about an hour west of its capital city and then three months working with Sinapi Aba Trust in Kumasi, Ghana’s cultural capital where many of its most famous products come from. After that, I will be sent somewhere else in Africa–pretty much wherever Kiva needs me. As I prepare by purchasing nine months worth of anti-malarial medication, fundraising, and setting up a work plan that I know very well I may not be able to keep while working in a country that moves quite a bit slower than me, I find myself getting more excited and eager about this opportunity. One thing I like about the microfinance world is that they try to be very transparent and honest about the strengths and weaknesses that go along with microfinance. This movement–shall we call it a microfinance movement–is not about saving the world, and my hopeful dreamy self realizes this can be much more sustainable. I spent last summer working in Ghana as a journalist, and the poverty I saw astounded me. What astounded me even more was the amazing masses of hopeful people who wanted to better themselves but didn’t have the resources to do so. My desire to help them is what led me to participate in this program. I go back in the hopes of being a resource for both Kiva and the microfinance institutions to make leaps or at least baby steps that tackle this problem of poverty. Back to bucket baths. Back to no or less-than-par indoor plumbing. Back to whistles on the street and multiple marriage proposals daily. The truth is, I feel so blessed to be able to go back to a place that taught me so much about hope and caring about others and hopefully making a difference for a group of people whom I believe would do so much with an opportunity to develop themselves.
I look forward to sharing my journey with others, and I want to finish my first blog entry by recounting a story. I went to Nicaragua in July and was staying in the mountains outside of Matagalpa in a rural agricultural area. One of the men and I began talking, and he told me (with no idea that I was applying to be a Kiva Fellow) that what the farmers in this disconnected town really needed was access to capital. He told me that this access would open doors for these farmers being able to develop their crops and make the most out of their land.This inspired me, more than anything, to enable others to make the most out of their own resources. Ghana, here I come….
My first blog
For someone who is non-technical, blogging is a whole new adventure. So I’ll keep this short just to see if I can post this blog. Ciao.
Kiva’s “Mission” – It’s about the burritos
I’ve been immersed in the mission this week – San Francisco’s Mission district. Block after colorful block surrounds Kiva’s office at 18th and Folsom where we’ve been gathered just prior to our departures throughout the world. And while you can find virtually any type of cuisine in the area – from Salvadoran to Vietnamese to Senegalese – it’s really all about the burritos. Last night’s sampling was a bulging toasty tortilla jammed with spicy al pastor courtesy of El Farolito on 24th and Mission. Taqueria Cancun is just a short 5 blocks away where the carne asada super burrito lives up to its name.
As much as I enjoy the burritos, I’ll soon be several thousand miles away from the Mission and writing about the best eatery in Khujand, Tajikistan. I have no idea what to expect and my only experience with Tajik cuisine is reading about it from ‘The Google.’ Something called cheburek is described as a deep-fried dough cake filled with ground lamb, spices and onions. Hmmm, sounds a bit like a burrito? Maybe not… but I’m confident that I’ll put on a few pounds to insulate against the bitter Tajikistan winter. And of course there’s the vodka, but that’s for another post.
I’ll be working with MLF MicroInvest which is one of the largest partners representing over $1 million in Kiva loans. Anyone with a particular interest in Tajikistan can join the new Tajikistan lending team and load the MicroInvest RSS Feed into their RSS reader to stay up to date when new loans are posted from MicroInvest.
Bali In My Brain
I will now share my knowledge and potentially erroneous information about Bali, Indonesia:
- My principal mode of transportation, motor bike, will significantly increase my chances of bodily harm and death
- The start of the rainy season is October, which neatly coincides with my start date
- Bali has world-class banana pancakes
This is all important because I am going to be volunteering for Kiva’s field partner in Bali, the DINARI Foundation. I will be doing my best to interview borrowers, help DINARI comply with Kiva’s procedures and assist DINARI in their microfinance work. I hope that my existing knowledge will prepare me for the challenges ahead. Any additional and accurate information would be appreciated.
Sincerely,
Lander Burr
Check out the new loans for my microfinance institution (there may not be any currently): http://www.kiva.org/app.php?page=businesses&partner_id=82&status=fundRaising&sortBy=New+to+Old&_tpg=fb
Greetings from San Francisco
Hello, I’m Nick and I’m a Kiva Fellow.
Our long week of training is nearly finished and you can feel the excitement in the room. Everyone is ready to get into the field -I am still cruising around with “TBD” on my name tag, though, as I do not know exactly where I’ll be heading for my fellowship. All anxieties aside, it is great to be a part of this amazing organization and can’t wait to begin this next chapter of my life.
More to follow when my placement is determined…
Microfinance Adventures: Training
I’m nearly a full fledged fellow, simply waiting a few more intense sessions and a final knighting. Once all that formality is over, it will be a whirlwind two months while I sell everything I own, say goodbye to friends, family and co-workers, stuff myself full of vaccinations and purchase the ticket to begin my new life in Tegucigalpa, Honduras as a Kiva Fellow!
Training highlights have been really inspiring conversations with Matt and Premal (and yes, I do have a crush on him now). Its wonderful to be a part of this great organization! Please tune in…
Where in Latin America will Ashley go, nobody knows…
Hi my name is Ashley and I am a Kiva Fellow in class KF6.
I do have to say that I am jealous of my Kiva Fellows peers who know where they are going and with whom they will be working with, but I know that fate (a.ka. Michelle my Kiva manager) has something great in store for me! I am not leaving til January, but am getting antsy to leave already.
Training has been especially inspiring. The Kiva staff has been incredibly welcoming, and there is no other place I would want to be than right here in San Francisco working for such an amazing non-profit!
Posted: Trespassers Welcome
That should be the sign hanging underneath every blog because, really, blogs are like an open invitation to read your diary.
Lucky for me, my diary is written to an imaginary audience populated by people just like you.
Welcome. Welcome to my first post as a Kiva Fellow. I hope that these first few sentences prove enticing enough to read to the middle and even the end of this entry.
This fall I will be going to Peru and later Bolivia to help act as a bridge between the Kiva borrowers from EDAPROSPO and Emprender (respectively) and their Kiva lenders around the world. To do so, I will be interviewing the entrepreneurs and writing journal updates about the effects of the loans on their lives. In addition, I’ll do some behind-the-scenes work with the MFI (Microfinance Institution… aka, bankers for the poor) to help them maximize their relationship with Kiva.
I am also going to be writing posts like this (though more entertaining and exciting) every two weeks or so to give you an insight into my travels and travails as a Kiva Fellow in Peru and Bolivia. My posts are sure to be full of witty insights, carefully constructed anecdotes, musings into microfinance in practice and theory, general introspections and extrospections, tangents into economic and political histories of various countries and the implications for today, and anachronistic filler talk like how to build a log cabin.
Right now I am taking part of Kiva’s week-long training session for new Fellows at their headquarters in San Francisco. This post is stunted and awkwardly worded in part because this lesson lasts forty minutes and things move fast. Just imagine, with only a week to have hands-on training from Kiva staff before heading out overseas, things get busy really fast.
You made it to the end of this post. Your reward? A never-before-seen snapshot from inside Kiva’s office in San Francisco. Enjoy.
A Year in Microfinance, Chapter 1
Hi, my name is Evie, and I’m a Kiva Fellow. (Say it with me now: “Hi, Evie!”)
From October 1, 2008 through October 1, 2009 I will be in the field as a Kiva Fellow. I sit now in the Kiva office in San Francisco, training with my colleagues who will be scattered around the globe for the coming months. In two weeks I’ll leave Seattle for three months in Kiev with HOPE Ukraine. From there I’ll head east into Central Asia for the next three months, and then on to Cambodia for six months, before landing back in the USA next year.
As the year unfolds, I look forward to seeing your comments and getting to follow the adventures of the 30 Fellows heading into the field. It’s going to be a wild ride for all of us.
Kiva’s Inspirational Reach
We are in Day 4 of our Kiva Fellowship training in San Francisco. We’ve gathered from all over the US to prepare for our 3+ month stints across Africa, Asia, South America and Central Europe. Really the most amazing moment for me here has been meeting and communing with 30 other people who are about to deploy across the world. It’s a great and inspirational feeling to realize you’re sitting in a discussion group with seven eager and excited people- one about to fly off to Cambodia, another to Nicaragua, another to Bali, or to Tanzania, or to Azerbaijan… the list goes on and on. It’s really been my most favorite aspect of this training to see and almost tangibly “feel” the organization’s reach.
How exciting to know that here we are gathered in this room and one month from now we will be in some of the farthest corners of the world hoping to make an impact, an impression or a change. To my fellow Fellows: I’m looking forward to pinging you in Africa, Asia and Central Europe from beautiful Peru…
Flying and Hot Buns
Dala-dalas are Dar es Salaam’s form of public transportation. They are buses that run all over the city, charging about $0.30 per ride. There is no set schedule, and they typically only leave once they are full.
Although several Tanzanians warned me about taking dala-dalas during rush hour, I figured it was no big deal. So I would be squished and sweaty, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I took one from work to the city center and I even got a seat! At that point I was thinking, “Why did everyone make such a big deal? This is totally fine.” Then, as we pulled into the main bus station, I finally understood. A group of 20 people or so were running alongside the bus, hanging on by a few fingers and trying to squeeze through the closed door. Seeing what we were up against, everyone on the inside stood up immediately and headed towards the door. Once we finally slowed to a speed of 5 mph, the door was forced open and people pushed their way in as we attempted to push our way out. When it was my turn (and that’s all relative), I sort of leaped out of the bus. There were so many people trying to get on that I stayed perched in mid-air. One of my flip-flops managed to reach ground but I continued to float. A few words were thrown around, including Mzungu, and I finally managed to make a safe landing. But I wasn’t done yet. I was ready to do almost anything to get on the rare Masaki route dala-dala. When I saw it pulling in I ran with the rest of the crowd, throwing elbows and pushing my way through. I made it in the bus but wasn’t lucky enough to get a seat. I was told to sit on the ledge behind the driver, and with my leg in the crotch of the man across from me, I was feeling pretty comfortable and accomplished. But as the engine roared and we took off, I realized my butt was super hot. Not surprising considering I was sitting on the engine of a decrepit bus that my sister, Risa, wouldn’t dare enter due to safety reasons. It took about an hour with traffic, and although happily on the bus, sweat was dripping down my face and I worried my versatile gaucho pants were bound to be singed.
As I walked to work the next morning, I saw a fight go down on a dala-dala. People were yelling, punches were being thrown, arms were flailing – it didn’t look pretty. As men in collared shirts and ties climbed out of the windows, I realized my hot buns and flying experience was nothing in comparison.
To see loans currently being raised by Tujijenge Tanzania, click here: http://www.kiva.org/app.php?page=businesses&partner_id=87&status=fundRaising&sortBy=New+to+Old&_tpg=fb
21 Days on the Road (Part 2)
(To see what happened during the first 11 days, see Part 1)
Day 12 (Warning: slightly disgusting content. Do not attempt to read while eating):
I just finished rubbing my heels with sandpaper for the last hour. It’s a long story how I got to this point, but it involves exclusively flip-flops/sandals and very dirty/dusty/sandy roads for 6 weeks. Basically, I gave up trying to wash or in any way care for my feet a few weeks ago. They were just always dirty. Even when I get home there’s just dirt everywhere so I gave up on my feet. The plan worked out fine until yesterday my right heel began to hurt whenever I put pressure on it. A problem because I do a lot of walking. So I decided to look at my heel (probably the first time I’ve done this in 6 weeks) and saw not only tons of seriously dead skin but also some major cracks—I’m talking into the depths of my flesh—in my heel. There was one in particular that stood out—just a huge crevice where my skin broke running the length of probably a half inch. So today I go to a pharmacy having no idea what the word in English is for that thing you scrape on your feet (like a nail file for your feet) and certainly not knowing the Swahili word. All I have going for me was the Swahili word for “foot” which also happens to include the leg so it is sufficiently vague. When I walk into the pharmacy and decide to scan for an item in the same family as my desired object, to my glee, I spot just the thing I am looking for! Glorious! I’m pretty sure the pharmacist has never seen anyone so excited about a foot-scraper. So I just spent nearly an hour soaking and scraping away the layers and layers of dead skin in the hope that it will ease the pain that the cracks are causing me. There’s still much more work to do there, but a girl can only touch her feet for so long in one day before she has to call it quits. I’ll get back to it tomorrow and hopefully this new hygiene regimen will prevent future fault lines in my feet. (Be thankful I forgot to take a picture of my foot in its most heinous glory or else I’d be posting it right here.)
Day 14:
After a 2.5 hour bus ride from Shinyanga, I arrive in Mwanza and decide to walk around the city. I turn onto a street that is amply occupied with other pedestrians only to have a man walking towards me reach for my face to rip off my sunglasses. Some would let it go at that (afterall, I really don’t even like those sunglasses) but unfortunately my animal instincts kick in and without thinking I begin fighting back for my glasses. We have a standing tussle during which he scratches up my arm and I commit to crushing the glasses in my grasp so long as it means he doesn’t win. All the while, the crowded street freezes to watch the muzungu woman wrestle her attacker. No one steps in to help, but they all watch. In the end I do win and walk away with all of my possessions intact (my brute strength didn’t even cause me to crush my glasses) and only minor injuries to my right arm. As strange as the attack is, so is the reaction I receive from local people to whom I mention it. One accuses me of lying, telling me that the city is safe and that would never happen. Another says that if a thief is caught in the act, everyone in sight will pummel him or her and retrieve the belongings then continue beating the culprit perhaps until death. I ask why, then, did no one step in to get him away from me after he grabbed my face. Unsure how to answer, he says that the man is probably a known drunk or crazy person who does this type of thing all the time so no one wanted to bother. Comforting. I decide not to mention the incident to any more locals.
Day 15:
Today I learned the effect that isolation has on me. Though there have people around me all of the time and I’ve met different BRAC staff every day, it wasn’t until today when I reunited with a fellow Kiva Fellow here in Mwanza that I realized the hole there had been in my communication. Glorious friendship, camaraderie, English language, and mutual understanding. Thank you, Nabomita! To celebrate, we are eating the biggest tilapia I’ve ever seen straight out of Lake Victoria (the source of the Nile River). I’m barely able to stop talking long enough to get the food to my mouth, but when I do it’s well worth it. I’m now fully convinced that the only way to eat fish is with your hands. As a person who never ate fish prior to my move here I don’t think I’d know how to pick out the bones (or eyeballs) using a fork and knife.
Day 16:
I’ve spent each of the previous two weeks training two branches in each region on how to begin using Kiva and generating Business Profiles for the Kiva website. In Mwanza, I am to train three branches in five days. I’ve gotten into a training rhythm and like the two branches in five days regimen, but I’m a little worried about how I’ll pull off three. What I’ve been doing is spending one day with a branch to go to the field and get to know the COs and branch manager. In the afternoon, once everyone has returned from the field, I launch into a presentation and training discussion on Kiva. Then the next day I go into the field with as many COs as I can and visit as many groups as possible to begin filling out business profile forms and taking pictures for the website. I plan on spending two days like this at each branch and then I have the fifth bonus day to spend a little more time with whichever branch I feel needs it. Part of the struggle this week will not only be making it to each branch on two different days (at the very least one afternoon to do the training followed by one morning to go to the field) but also locating the three branches and getting from place to place, as the three branches are spread out on all different sides of the city. It’s doable but there’s not much of a buffer should one of the mornings or afternoons not work out. If I weren’t in Africa the schedule I’ve created for myself would be totally doable, but it turns out I am in Africa and timing absolutely never works out a) as you expect; or b) as you need it to. In my perfect world, my week will go as follows:
Monday—morning: Branch 1; afternoon: Branch 2
Tuesday—morning: Branch 3; afternoon: Branch 1
Wednesday—morning: Branch 1; afternoon: Branch 3
Thursday—morning: Branch 2; afternoon Branch 1
Friday—morning: Branch 3; afternoon: Branch 2
The way I see it, if the week even goes 80% as planned I’ll still complete all of the trainings. Fingers crossed.
Day 17:
A car wearing a bumper sticker declaring, “This Car is Protected by the Blood of Jesus” is simultaneously driving straight into opposing traffic at full speed and coming within inches of hitting multiple pedestrians. It is as though his faith that he is protected by Jesus permits him to drive recklessly, as no harm could find him. What about the pedestrians? What if they’re not protected by Jesus’ blood? Faith is one thing but watching it embolden this country’s drivers is a scary incarnation of religious devotion.
Day 18:
It’s a rainy day in Mwanza and I need to get from one branch to another to begin training another office. Rain wouldn’t be catastrophic except that the Regional Manager is here today and he’s offered me a ride to my next location on the back of his motorbike. We wait for the rain to pass enough for us to be able to take to the streets and after two hours we decide to go for it. We make it through ten minutes of the 30-minute ride when he pulls over and tells me he’s going here (as he points vaguely at the nothing that is next to us). By now it is raining again and we are well outside the city. In shock that he would leave me on the side of the road in the rain in the middle of nowhere I hesitate. Does he really intend for me to get off the bike? He does. He quickly pulls away further off the road and I have no choice but to begin walking in the general direction of the city. I look down to realize I’m covered in mud and filth that’s been kicked up by the motorbike and I’m getting even wetter as the rain comes down harder, but there’s no where for me to take cover. Eventually I make it to a daladala stand where a man ushers me under a shelter and asks me where I need to go. Thank you, my Swahili, for being advanced enough to allow me to talk about directions and destinations fluently! He gets me onto the proper daladala and tells the driver where I need to go. I hate being helpless but my dejection at my soaking state and abandonment allow me to resign myself to it and follow instructions. We reach a stop at which point the daladala driver tells me I should get off. He points to two students whom he says will lead me to my next daladala. In the end it takes five people and one hour to get to the branch. It would all be worth it if it weren’t for the fact that by the time I reach the branch, the staff has gone home as the work day is nearly over. All for naught.
Day 19:
As I said, I need the week to go at least 80% as planned. I knew that something would go wrong but there’s always a strange excitement as I wake up each day not sure exactly what it is that will disrupt my attempt at a plan. The good news is that if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that I need to remain only loosely committed to my plans, as any greater attachment will result in frequent disappointment. Today, Branch 2 is a problem. The Branch Manager has resigned so the branch is in turmoil. I’m wondering if I’m bad luck, as last week both a Branch Manager and a CO resigned on the day I was to train the branch. The Area Manager tells me I should not take it personally as turnover is not uncommon. It’s amazing the difference a solid Branch Manager makes. Without that authority figure to impose a sense of order and routine, things falls apart. COs still attend their meetings and collect their payments but air in the office is more chaotic. Clients coming to receive disbursements get into yelling matches with each other and the COs. The flow of the staff in and out of the office is constant so no one ever knows how to find anyone else. When I try to locate a particular CO, inevitably I am told that “there is a problem, she had to go.” I don’t even know what this means, but I’ve heard it numerous times. Of all of the things Branch 2 has to worry about, I’m not convinced that I can elevate Kiva on their list of priorities. I’m worried that the situation here might consume more than 20% of my plan and leave me unsuccessful, with perhaps 2 or 2.5 branches trained.
Day 20:
“What do you think of the way we collect loan payments?” It feels like a loaded question so I pause. I say something vague to which the Branch Manager responds “do you think it’s safe?” Ahh that’s what she’s getting at. And she has a good point. The method that BRAC employs to collect installments on loans is through weekly meetings at the Group Leader’s home that the CO attends. There, she collects payments—sometimes more than 1 million Tanzanian Shillings in a single day (equivalent of $1,000—a lot of money by local standards)—to bring back to the office. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the COs are women between the ages of 20 and 30 (per BRAC policy) and they make these collections alone. For the Branch Manager to bring it up echoes the concerns I have had as I repeatedly watch COs roll up wads of cash and stick them in their purses, in plain public view and seemingly vulnerable to any bystander should he or she decide he/she wants that money. In addition to safety concerns, the Branch Manager points out that these women do not make in one month nearly the amount of money they collect in a single day. What is to stop them from running off with it?
Day 21:
I am beginning this 16 hour bus ride with a woman more or less sitting on top of me. This would be totally predictable (afterall, what’s an African bus ride without a stranger sitting on your lap?) except that the seat next to her is empty. Why, I beg of you WHY, do you insist on sitting right up on me when there is a perfectly good and empty aisle seat right next to you??? Two hours later, we make a stop and someone sits in the empty seat which finally stops me from gazing longingly at the empty seat trying to will this woman to move. Every 4-5 hours we pull over on the side of the road in the middle of no where. These are bathroom breaks. As one may expect, it’s almost exclusively men who take advantage of these rests (the terrain is desert with no trees or high shrubbery to shield a person) with only the occasional extremely desperate woman partaking. Me, I strategically drank no water for two days so as to avoid this very situation. Wildy unhealthy? Perhaps. Was it worth it? Definitely.
As the clock strikes ten the bus enters familiar terrain. Dar es Salaam is upon us. After 16 sweaty hours, 2 of which were unpaved, and no real food or drink to speak of, we arrive at the bus terminal. As I disembark, to my shock and amazement two of my friends with whom I live are waiting at the door and waving and yelling excitedly. What a fantastic homecoming!
