Archive for December 16th, 2008
On Poverty
Yesterday I met Mr. and Mrs. Phung, their two children and their granddaughter. The Phungs run a bicycle repair shop. It is a small shop on a partially paved, pot-holed street on the outskirts of Thanh Hoa City, Vietnam (150 kilometers south of the capital, Hanoi). Had it been a few houses further down the street, Mr. and Mrs. Phung would have enjoyed views over the rice paddies.
Bicycles are repaired on what would be the pavement, if one existed. As with many homes, the front room not only acts as a sort of living room but also as a place of business; in this case a store room for bicycle parts. Bicycle tires and tubes hang from the ceiling and brakes, brake cables, pedals, baskets, etc. are stored in cubby holes on the wall. Even with the entryway wide open, one’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark inside.
Mr. and Mrs. Phung had been warned in advance of this foreigner’s arrival and welcomed me into their home. We were there with one of the Fund for Thanh Hoa Poor Women’s loan officers to distribute a group loan.
While each borrower was lent almost 3.1 million VND (~ US$181), they all said they wanted to borrow much more but couldn’t. I’ve heard this complaint many times as I usually ask borrowers what they like most about the Fund for Thanh Hoa Poor Women (“FPW”) and where they’d like to see improvements. As I knew, FPW restricts the amount that individuals can borrow by reference to their credit history, and 6 million VND (~US$353) was the absolute maximum loan amount. So I wondered why borrowers wanting more money didn’t borrow from the bank. After all, it is not uncommon to hear FPW’s borrowers such as Mr. & Mrs. Phung say they expect to make a profit of 2 million VND (~ US$118) per month on a 12-month 3.1 million VND loan.
Now many poor borrowers the world-over can’t borrow from a bank because they have nothing to offer as collateral. But this appears not to be the case in rural Vietnam where most people own their houses and the land on which their houses are built. Which raises another very interesting question: how poor are these borrowers?
I know the answer to the first question is much more complicated than I’ll ever learn but from my few short weeks in Vietnam, here are two pertinent discoveries: many borrowers don’t have title deeds to their properties and some who do aren’t willing to risk losing their homes on a business loan. Being told the latter by Mr. Phung (while Mrs. Phung tended to her granddaughter’s needs) was particularly revealing. Here was a borrower who was willing to borrow money from a loan shark at an <a href=”http://www.mftransparency.org/”>APR</a> of 188% but they wouldn’t mortgage their house to obtain a more favorable interest rate (fortunately for Mrs. Phung, FPW loans carry an APR of only 24%). On the other hand, maybe the Phungs were more clued-in than I give them credit for as I’m sure many small business owners in the US will rue the day they gave their bank a personal guarantee on their small business loans.
I also wonder, in light of the aforementioned discovery, how poor FPW’s borrowers really are. Now I really am tip-toeing into a mindfield. So let me skirt around the edges. <a href=”http://www.cgap.org/p/site/c/aboutus/“>CGAP</a> (the Consultative Group to Assist the Poor), the leading independent resource for objective information, expert opinion, and innovative solutions for microfinance, defines the <a href=”http://econ-www.mit.edu/files/530/”>poor</a> as those living on less than $2 dollar per day per capita. I haven’t yet investigated how this definition takes into consideration real estate ownership. The fact that FPW’s borrowers benefit enormously from such small loans (particularly given the alternatives) is good enough reason to lend to them. But are they really that poor? It is a question that many Kiva Fellows I’ve spoken to ponder. And it is a question I will continue to research and think about.
Postscript: Today, at the opening ceremony for FPW’s fifth branch, the local People’s Committee member welcomed FPW into his district saying, among other things, that he hoped the provision of loans to women in his district would prevent them having to leave their homes to search for work elsewhere. He went on to say that some who did were “stolen into China” – which my interpreter translated to mean sold as wives to Chinese men. Indeed, my translator told me that one of her parents’ neighbors had been sold to China, only to return 10 years after her disappearance. A sobering thought which puts theoretical questions related to “poverty” into perspective.
1 comment 16 December 2008
Loneliness in front of Immigration Office with tears
It was very first time in my life I confused so much what is common sense.
I went to Immigration Office in Phnom Penh to get my passport with newly extended visa a few weeks ago. But an Immigration Officer said there wasn’t my passport. I couldn’t believe what she said. She said an officer whom I submitted my passport to the day before that day, wasn’t the officer in charge of visa extension, and she had no idea with my passport. What?! The guy was not officer in charge of visa extension? Why could that horrible situation happen? It was too hard to believe.
One day before that day, I couldn’t find where Visa Extension Department in Immigration Office and asked one guy I met there. He said’ OK. Come here, please.’ And then he asked me ‘Which country is your passport?’, ‘Japanese’, ‘It costs $55 and you would receive new visa after 2 o’clock tomorrow.’, ‘ It should be $45.’, ‘ No, $55.’
I had no choice at that time since my visa was almost over. I had too little time to give up to apply that day. The guy somewhat dubious but I thought the price maybe changed. It often happens in Cambodia. Finally I paid $55.
When I was at a loss to hear no my passport at the Visa Extension Department, one other Officer in charge of Visa Extension, said to me the guy I submitted my passport to had my passport. But he didn’t know where he was at that time. Why was it possible that he went out of Immigration Office with my passport? The officers knew the guy had my passport, it means they knew the guy cheated me. Why didn’t they accuse the guy and try to get my passport back to them? I was almost dead of anger to everybody in Immigration Office. It’s really unbelievable. What should I do without passport here? I started to feel insecure.
Fortunately I had the guy’s phone number just in case, called him and got his answer. He said ‘ Why you didn’t come to the office at 2 o’clock?’
That was true he had said my visa would be ready at 2 o’clock the next day. But I didn’t think it was a appointment with him. Did it mean after 2 o’clock visa is ready as I should have gone there at 2 o’clock? Why was I blamed by him? His word made me really unhappy. Anyway, he said he had my passport and would come back to Immigration Office. The only one thing I could do was to wait for him back. I didn’t know he would really come back or not. My worry became bigger and bigger.
While I was waiting for the guy, the officer in Visa Extension Department told me this was my fault since I didn’t go to Visa Extension Department. I got mad to hear that again. Is it my fault to ask an officer in Immigration the way in Cambodia? Was it a common sense here? But I couldn’t show my almost bombing indignation because I needed his help to ask the guy giving me back $10. Yes, the guy cheated price as well. Actually it cost only $45. He cheated $10.
Unfortunately the officer said ‘It is out my business. If I say so, my colleague would get angry with me.’ His words made me really mad. ‘Don’t you have any pride of your job, terrible man?’ I refrained the words in my mind. They don’t care for non-Cambodians, but their folks.
Actually I found some Cambodians never care of such kind of moral. They seem to think non Cambodians should pay money for them in any ways. They always charge expensive price to non Cambodians. Of course I truly understand this country is so poor that people need help. But I feel annoyed with their attitude of getting used to just get receiving something by foreigners. When they see foreigners, just ask us money. In this country, we have no choice but to obey this culture heavily tainted by corruption.
Even though I asked help many times to the officer in charge of Visa Extension, he went back home leaving me alone finally.
I didn’t know whether the guy would bring my passport or not and whether I could get my money back. I was so nervous and uneasy. I wondered whether to get my passport stolen?
I really needed someone beside me to make me easy.
Although I asked a HKL staff who took me to Immigration Office by motorcycle to wait for more 5 minutes, he also left me alone. I couldn’t explain how sad I was seeing of his motorcycle going. But I knew he wanted to go back home. I just needed to accept it.
The waiting time alone made me become so anxious and uncomfortable. I felt quite alone. No energy with my body. Eventually, I couldn’t keep standing.
I’m sure my face at that time was so terrible and ugly. ‘I came here for Cambodian people. Why did they treat me like this? I would never come back to this terrible country, never, NEVER!!!’ refrained negative words in my brain.
The waiting time seemed forever. I tried not to think negatively and to do something. I checked the time quite often with mobile and then tried to call somebody, but didn’t finally since I felt nobody could help me.
Nothing to do in front of Immigration. Just watching cars and motorcycle were coming and going with empty feeling and disappointing at Cambodian society.
After my million-times calls, the guy miraculously came back to Immigration Office with my passport. The visa was completed the procedure fortunately. He didn’t show any guiltiness and didn’t give me back $10.
‘ Why did you cheat me. Give me back $10.’
‘ I don’t have $10′ now’,
‘ Liar! You should have.’
‘ You can check my body!’
Childish talk. But I was so serious.
Actually, $10 wasn’t so big money for me, but I didn’t want to obey this terrible society with bribe.
I suddenly remembered some Cambodian friend had told me when I get cheated, I should think to have made donation or paid lesson bill to learn Cambodia. In the case of my $10, should I think so? No, I’d love to help Cambodian people, but not in these ways!
Never ended talk with the terrible guy, finally I started to cry getting frustrated by him and myself.
‘I work here to help Cambodian. Why do you cheat even such people doing their best for your country?!’
He looked around others looking at us and said, ‘I’ll pay it tomorrow. Don’t cry.’
Of course I didn’t believe his word. But I had no choice. There is no help and it was getting dark. I could not check his body and check how much he had. Finally I got back to the office without money back.
After 2weeks from this horrible day, I was cheated again and lost my money. Although I truly know not everybody cheat me, the horrible experiences impacted my motivation very negatively. To work for developing countries is much harder than I expected in my country. And then I found I need to complete my mental preparation and never give up to achieve my goal no matter how horrible experience I would have.
To keep working in Cambodia, I need to overcome my experiences and never lose my motivation for this beautiful country.
12 comments 16 December 2008
5 things I think I think about Azerbaijan
(with apologies to Sports Illustrated NFL writer Peter King)
1. Cats are great city animals.
Cat on car.
At one time, Baku was rat country, so I’ve been told. Someone decided to fix the problem by either introducing cats to the streets or firing all the cat-catchers. You don’t see many rats around nowadays.
Cats are everywhere. They stand guard outside the markets, scurry beneath the tables inside the posh furniture stores, sleep atop parked BMWs, pick through garbage, and mew in the hallway of my apartment building. A friend here started adopting street cats and now has seven in her flat.
Coming from New York, I’ve always held up pigeons (and to a lesser extent, squirrels) as the best city animals. And I’ve always taken rats for granted. But cats, quiet and clean, are, to me, the new gold standard.
2. Traffic laws are outstanding.
So THAT'S what a seatbelt is for...
As a car owner, I have some ambivalence about traffic laws. I hate parking tickets. Sometimes I find a 65 mph speed limit to be — idealistic. And I’ve sent the occasional text message at a red light.
So I write this fully aware that I am a hypocrite: traffic laws are outstanding.
I’ve been in countries with bad drivers before. The drivers of India and Pakistan and Bangladesh don’t deserve any medals. But there, because it’s generally poorer and warmer, the streets are jammed with every sort of vehicle: hand-pulled, bicycle and motorized rickshaws, scooters, buses, trucks and cars, not to mention a variety of livestock.
So bad driving is mitigated by 1) self-preservation (as you can get thrown from a rickshaw pretty easily) and 2) weak engines. It’s hectic, lawless traffic, but it’s not that fast.
Azerbaijan, in contrast, has hectic, lawless, fast traffic. People are generally driving cars, buses or trucks, and good cars, too, not Tata Nanos, but Benzes.
And because cars are the only thing on the road and cars are expensive, if you’re driving at all here, you’re a big deal. That, in turn, means you shouldn’t have to break for any commoner on foot. Nor should you approach a blind turn through a narrow, residential alley at less than 50 mph.
It’s not that right-of-way is ambiguous here: the cars have it. I guess I’ve been spoiled living in places where cars break for pedestrians, but I find the traffic here beyond aggravating. Everyone uses their car horns constantly to express anger, and tricked-out horn upgrades (the “air horn” and the “Godfather theme” being ubiquitous) are mandatory.
What’s optional? Seatbelts. Headlights at night. Child safety seats. Staying within the solid double-lines on a highway. Most people with kids have them ride on their laps in the front passenger seat, their little faces pressed to the windshield.
On a recent road trip, we passed a roadkill horse (!), two dead dogs, and a brick truck that had lost its bricks on the way out of Baku. On the way back, we saw a dead person in the road (!!). No wonder everyone stops at the mosque just outside of town to make an offering to Allah thanking Him for a safe ride!
3. Russian is hard.
Three genders? Six cases? I’ve been studying for two months and still don’t know what a case is.
4. All politics is local.
So said Tip O’Neill, long-serving Speaker of the House.
Case in point. In America, we fought a “cold” war with Russia from the mid-1940s to 1991. There is still hatred and fear of Russia in some parts of our political sphere (ask Sen. John McCain how he likes the Russians).
We also have as our enemies the “Axis of Evil”: Iran, Iraq and North Korea. Iraq, of course, is now are ward. North Korea is flirting with giving up the bomb. But Iran appears to be carrying on as a threat, with worried talk in the news magazines and Sunday morning talk shows over when it will get nukes and what it will do with them.
So here I am in Azerbaijan, sandwiched between Putin and Ahmadinejad. Azeris don’t care. There’s nothing too frightening about either. They may not always have nice things to say about their neighbors to the north and south, but Americans aren’t always that charitable with Canada and Mexico, either. Anyway, Azeris have reserved 100 percent of their negative energy for their neighbor to the west: Armenia.
The cause is a dispute over the territory of Nagorno-Karabakh, which took the form of a war in the late ’80s and ’90s and now is the source of much saber-rattling, but little fighting. Some 800,000 Azeris were displaced by the loss of the territory, and bettering their lives is a major part of microfinance here.
It’s less of an axis and more of a singularity of evil. And, sadly, it’s no exaggeration to say that dislike of the Armenians is nearly universal and is strong. I don’t know, there’s some axiom here that fits, one man’s jelly is another man’s jam or something…
5. Bribes suck.
I finally paid one, last week. Sixty manat (about $75). It wasn’t, like, spiritually degrading or anything, but it was 60 AZN that I’m not going to be spending on candy and DVDs.
8 comments 16 December 2008
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