Archive for January, 2009
potato chips
Greetings from Zacatecas, capital city of the state of Zacatecas, Mexico! 
I have spent the better part of the week camped out in this fine colonial city to continue to bring ADMIC journal updates to Kiva lenders. Yesterday, I met Maria de la Luz and learned about her family’s potato chip making business.
This should have been a fantastic journal update for some Kiva lender but sometimes the great work of a microfinance institution (mfi) like Mexico’s ADMIC is not funded by Kiva dollars. As I am sure has happened to other fellows, the microfinance partner staff are so excited to introduce you to one of their most interesting and industrious clients that you are swept up in the moment only to return to your laptop after lots of walking, two buses and a taxi to discover (gasp!) of the 18 Maria de la Luz’s using ADMIC/Kiva funds for their business, the Maria de la Luz who makes potato chips in Zacatecas is not one of them. So in honor of all of ADMIC’s work, this a Kiva fellows blog entry. Not to mention I will take advantage of more room for pictures to share the story.
Six years ago Maria de la Luz, her parents and her brother began a potato chip making business. Her brother had worked for another person making the chips and convinced the family to get involved. The brother is no longer a part of the business but Maria de la Luz and her parents are still doing the daily labor of making the chips. For those of you have traveled in Mexico, you have likely seen folks selling chips in clear brand-free plastic bags, on the side of the road, in front of schools, on the bus, in the market. I always just thought folks bought huge bags of Lay’s and broke them down into smaller bags for re-sale. Maybe that happens, but I may have just been missing some of the finest potato chips Mexico has to offer.
Maria de la Luz and her family buy potatoes by the ton- typically six tons- to last them just about two months. The process is reasonably simple using only potatoes, oil and salt, but incredibly labor intensive. It sounds like simple but check out these pictures to get an idea of the work.
Every morning her parents are up by 7am cleaning the potatoes and removing the skins. I got there in the afternoon, so missed this step. Here are the potatoes they keep for the process.
the potatoes awaiting...maybe another two weeks worth
The potatoes are put into a slicer for…slicing. The pieces fall into a vat where they are cleaned.
From there the slices are poured into a huge vat of boiling oil presided over by her mom. The oil is changed a couple times a day to ensure it is fresh and the flavor consistent. When the color is right, Maria de la Luz’s mom sweeps them out of the fryer and sets them aside for cooling, a dash of salt and ole! potato chips!
scooping the potatoes from the fryer
Maria de la Luz then takes the boxes to the shop and bags them up for distribution.
I hope the scrappy pics do some justice to the work that I got to see. This family barely breaks even if the cost of potatoes or oil gets to high. They appreciate the loans from ADMIC. It has allowed them to purchase potatoes when times are rough and the equipment they needed to get the business started. ADMIC has been providing microloans in Mexico for over thirty years. They have branch offices throughout the country. ADMIC is one of Kiva’s long standing partners for the last 2.5 years.
Best- Megan
Beans, rice and a lot of Esperanza (Hope)
After approximately a year of waiting I finally made it to my destination: the micro finance institute (MFI) Esperanza/Hope International located in balmy, beautiful Santo Domingo! Kalie Gold (another Kiva Fellow) and Analin (Kiva Coordinator) have been gracious enough to show me the ropes, and there is plenty to do. Right now we are currently working on designing a short training course for getting better profile pictures, more journal updates, getting documents sent on a timely manner, etc.
I was really excited to learn that Esperanza/Hope International are getting ready to launch Kiva loans from Haiti! I am really, really excited that I will be part of this amazing opportunity. As many of you know Haiti, the least developed country in the Western Hemisphere, has been experiencing severe economic recession. This has resulted in the majority of its residents to live in extreme poverty. To give you an idea of the situation the current gross national income (GNI) is currently only $560 (USD). Haiti is also severely deforested, with estimates of approximately only 2% of the country forested. The economic and environmental conditions make Haiti a destination of UN Peacekeepers, and development organizations.
We will be traveling to Trou du Nord, Haiti to interview Kiva borrowers. I am unsure of how many loans will be posted. But I am confident that Kiva members will snap them up quickly so keep your eye out for the Haiti loans! I hope you will participate in the important challenge of alleviating poverty one micro loan at a time!
Esperanza/Hope International Central Office in Santo Domingo
This afternoon I had the pleasure to see a group of 5 women receive their loan money. I have to say when I saw the women get their money and talked to them about what they planned to do with their loan I got a bit emotional. One woman planned to sell men’s shoes, another a fruit stand, and another clothing. It is such an amazing thing to see these women get a chance at something more. One of the women told the loan officer that in two years she was going to have a bought a car by then and was going to stop by and pick him up! Now that’s confidence.
Analin, Kalie and I
Loan officer dispersing the loan money.
KF7 New Lender Challenge
Back at Kiva HQ, KF7 has made it to the the forth of five days of training. Tonight we are having the first “New Lender Challenge”. Teams have been divided up from Kiva staff and KF7 and the team with the most successful invites by tomorrow wins a huge prize. Please encourage your friends/family/contacts to register on Kiva tonight!
Register here:
https://www.kiva.org/app.php?page=register
Referred by a friend? (PLEASE ADD)
team3@fellows.kiva.org
Team 3 Members: Jessica, Brett, Jeff, Drew, JD, Brent & Nathan
Other good choices include team 1 (team1@fellows.kiva.org) and team 2 (team2@fellows.kiva.org)
- Team 1 Members
The challenge ends tomorrow morning so sign up SOON!
29 January 2009 at 20:28 Zack Turner, KFP Coordinator 1 comment
A Fistful of Dollars, Behind the Scenes: Volunteer Editor Helps Kiva Entrepreneur Reach Her Goal
Like the windshield on a motor-taxi in Phnom Penh rush hour, transparency is vital to Kiva’s survival. To give interest-free loans, lenders deserve to know that every cent of their money is being distributed exactly as promised, whilst borrowers have the right not to be misrepresented.
An important aspect of this transparency, and one which Kiva takes very seriously, is the integrity of the data on its website. Allowing inaccurate data is the first step towards encouraging fraud on the site, which would have severe reputational consequences for Kiva.
A key data check is performed between the time the loan is posted by the MFI, and when it goes live on the website ready for funding. At this point every loan is reviewed by one of a team of over three-hundred online volunteers. These language gurus work from all over the world to translate loans posted in foreign languages and edit those posted in English by Kiva’s field partner microfinance institutions.
This is a crucial link in the chain of events, not only because it ensures that Kiva lenders can understand business postings and thus make informed choices, that lenders are represented with dignity and clarity, but also because it is the one time that every single loan is scrutinized. Editors can, and often do, flag issues ranging from missing information in the loan description, double-postings, loan amount discrepancies, inconsistencies or problems with the borrower picture, to potentially controversial loans, such as a loan for a cockfighting business.
The Editing and Translation volunteers range from a high school microfinance club, to returned Peace Corps volunteers who want to continue contributing to the country where they were stationed, to young mothers home with their children who want to reach out to make a difference, to retired English teachers and technical writers. They are located on six continents around the world.
In my last blog I posted a video which followed a loan from London to Cambodia (A Fistful Of Dollars: The Story Of A Kiva Loan). The client that featured in the video was the smiley and exceptionally accommodating Van Makara, whose loan was posted by field partner AMK and selected by Danielle Lieu and my other ex-colleagues in London to be the recipient of their $25.
When the loan was posted to the Kiva website by Sophanith at AMK, it landed in the work-queue of Lorne Warwick, a retired high school english teacher. He immediately got to work checking the loan posting and editing the English to make it easily comprehensible (perhaps he should have edited this introduction too). His edits can be seen below.
Lorne Warwick has edited over six hundred loans in the past four months alone. And while no-one will ever really understand the complex algorithms running within Danielle Lieu’s brain that made her pick Mrs Van Makara for her first Kiva loan, it’s certain that Lorne’s edits did a fantastic job of making the loan posting infinitely more readable (ideal for people who are sifting through Kiva loans in the office when they should really be working).
Lorne Warwick: An Editor and a Gentleman
Lorne, a keen blogger himself, kindly agreed to write about his involvement in Kiva and what goes into the editing process. This is what he wrote:
Entry by Lorne Warwick, Kiva Volunteer Editor
As the editor of the loan to Mrs. Van Makara, the subject of the excellent video, “A Fistful of Dollars: The Story of a Kiva.org Loan,” I have been asked to write briefly about my involvement with Kiva and what goes into the editing process.
A retired high school English teacher, my path to Kiva was largely serendipitous. In my first year of retirement, I purposely avoided making any commitments that would impose specific structure on my day, since structure was something that had defined my professional existence for 30 years. Content to take each day as it came, I busied myself with small home-improvement activities (never quite finding time for that major renovation needed in our basement!), an education research subcontract, and some sporadic writing.
My second year found me with a desire for a little more structure, so I began volunteering at a local food bank sorting and shelving donations. The very immediate results wrought by strictly physical effort were and still are quite gratifying. However, as time went on, I began to want to be of more service to others, never forgetting how fortunate I was to have been able to retire while still in my fifties, healthy and financially secure. The thought of paid work held no appeal. After becoming a lender with Kiva, one day I noticed a button on the site that said “Do More,” and to my delight found that the organization was seeking editors. The rest, as they say, is history, and I have now been editing loan descriptions for the past year, usually assigned two sets (with an average of 12-15 per set) each week by Kristy Harrison, one of Kiva’s volunteer coordinators living in England.
Perhaps the most powerful inducement for me in editing loan descriptions stems from my work as a teacher. I always had a special respect and admiration for those students who came to me, not to complain about their mark or try to wheedle a few extra points out of the old man, but rather were genuinely motivated to try to better their academic results. Essentially, they said, “I want to improve my work, and I want you to help me to reach that goal.”
Expressing such a desire meant I was at their service, and, in partnership, as long as they maintained that attitude and commitment, progress invariably ensued – progress not sudden and spectacular, but instead slow and steady. At the end of term, students would sometimes thank me for my help, but I would tell them that they had done all of the hard work – I had merely provided a framework and structure for their efforts.
This is precisely how I feel about Kiva, its mission, and my small role within the organization. The people seeking loans, already vetted and assessed by local Kiva financial partners, are the ones who bring the commitment, the motivation, and the goals to the deal – we are merely the conduit by which those goals can be achieved. Like the students I worked with for so many years, they have my deep respect and admiration, and I am happy to be of service to them.
Which brings me to the other aspect of Kiva that I find so immensely appealing: its model does much to renew the human spirit. I am convinced that the desire to help others exists in most of us, but this spirit of philanthropy needs regular cultivation. For example, many people have specific charities to which they regularly donate, and are quick to respond to pleas for money when natural and human disasters happen. However, these contributions are often made to large and seemingly faceless organizations tasked with dispersing the funds in a responsible and ethical manner. Our involvement in assisting the lives is thereby quite limited. The Kiva model, however, invites on-going participation in the lives of the borrowers, first as we select the region, the entrepreneurial activity and the borrower, and later as we can track the success of the loan through its repayment. The entire process is a steady reminder that we, as individuals, can indeed have a positive effect on the lives of our fellow human beings.
Kiva is an organization powered by a vision that is ideal for the times in which we live. While the events of the world and the actions of our leaders may frequently invite despair, Kiva is a vital reminder of the good that still exists, indeed thrives, in the heart of humanity. I feel privileged to be a small part of its efforts.
_____________________________________________________
Postscript
To view two more examples of loan edits, go to the following links
And to see a short video of live editing as it happens, check out the Cecilia Andoh loan live editing video
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If you or anyone you know would be interested in becoming part of the Volunteer Editing and Translation Team at Kiva, visit http://www.kiva.org/about/opportunities/ and follow the appropriate links.
Kiva Fellows Training – the jigsaw puzzle of 1,000 pieces
Training: After a long day at the office, the last session is held at a park.
Hi there!
My name is Boris Mordkovich and I’m one of the 28 Kiva Fellows [in training] in the KF7 class. In just a few short days, I’ll be finishing up the training, getting my last-minute supplies and headed to the cold, cold winter climate of Tajikistan.
As we come to a close of our 3rd day of training, there is finally a small window of opportunity to take a breath and reflect on this week thus far. And let me tell you – there aren’t a lot of opportunities like this during the week!
The training is designed to prepare a new group of fellows for field work at their respective Micro-Finance Institutions (MFIs) all over the world. But this preparation is unlike any other – it’s training on steroids.
Kiva has a pretty difficult task of “training” 28 people for something like a Kiva fellowship – as everybody’s experience will be unique in many ways. The needs of the organizations we will all be working for will vary. The countries and cultures that we’ll all be visiting are different. And our skill sets also range tremendously which impacts the type of contributions we can do.
During the week, we all certainly get a chance to learn the inner workings of Kiva, its business model and how it interacts with its partners, lenders and borrowers. The training program provides a ton of information on all things Kiva. However, since we only have a week, each day winds up to be very intense. And then, the deeper you dig, the more you understand how complex and and unique Kiva’s platform is and the more questions you wind up having.
If there is one major thread that goes through every presentation and every session, its the need to be flexible and fluid. There is a lot of trust and responsibilities placed in the fellows – we are given a lot of freedom in how we are expected to do things. And that’s what, I think, will make this both very rewarding and challenging.
Micro-Finance sector and Kiva are still relatively new, so there are a lot of unknowns ahead – but as Leonardo da Vinci once said, “I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do.”
Till next time – direct from Tajikistan!
- Boris
Unsafe abortions in Kenya
I am volunteering at Kisumu Medical Educational Trust (KMET), which began with the aim of breaking the silence surrounding high maternal mortality from unsafe abortions. In the Nyanza Province of Kenya, 42% of 15-19 year olds are sexually active, but only 11% use modern contraception. (Mitchel et al, 2006). Only eleven percent of sexually active teenagers use condoms, despite the fact that 15% of the population is infected with HIV/AIDS.
The KMET office has boxes and boxes of free condoms. I browsed the selection, impressed. I felt as though I was browsing the coffee options at the local Starbucks. Triple shot, no foam, tall skim latte? Meet ribbed, lubricated, vanilla-flavored, magnum-sized Trojan. I couldn’t understand why only 11% of teenagers would use condoms when they are so easily accessible, and in such a range of sizes and tastes!
Apparently, sex education classes are banned in Kenyan schools, so knowledge about reproductive health is scarce and largely inaccurate. Two KMET employees (Hesbon and Maureen) described some of the myths that circulate among teenagers in Kisumu:
- If you have sex with a condom, the condom will dislodge and swim through your body. The condom will come out of your mouth while you sleep.
- If you have sex with a condom, your body will react to the condom’s oils and your stomach will swell as if you are pregnant.
- If you have sex with a condom, you will acquire HIV. (Because supposedly companies inject condoms with the virus as a means of population control.)
- If you have sex with a condom, the female will feel intense pain.
Teenagers are largely ignorant about contraception, and as a result, 27% of 19-year old women in the Nyanza Province of Kenya are either pregnant or already mothers. (UNAIDS Report, 2006) These young mothers are usually thrown out of their homes and kicked out of school. They are left to raise their children alone, with no source of income or support from the government. In Kisumu, 100% of these teenage mothers earn less than $1/day.
The stigma and consequences of pregnancy therefore lead 252,000 15-19 year old Kenyan girls to seek abortions every year. (Kiragu et al, 1998) The problem is – - abortion is illegal, expensive and misunderstood. Girls are told that if they seek an abortion at a hosptial, the doctors will either sterilize them or block their vaginas so they are unable to have sex again. As a result, the majority of the abortions are performed in horrific conditions, often by the girls themselves. 1 in 10 women who obtain an abortion in Kenya will die. (UNAIDS Report, 2006)
Maureen told me about her friend Mary, who became pregnant at 17. In her bedroom, she took 12 malarial pills, strong juice extract, and an herbal drink she received from a back-door abortion clinic (which likely included turpentine.) While waiting for the drugs to work, she inserted a bent coat hanger into her vagina and scratched the uterus walls until she lost consciousness. Maureen found her, bleeding profusely and unconscious from the drug overdose, the coat hanger still inside her vagina.
Unfortunately, abortion is so stigmatized in Kenya that few clinics or hospitals will treat women who are dying from unsafe abortions. Maureen therefore had to find a car to take Mary to a special clinic 28 km away. It took her 1 hour to find a car and another 1 hour and 30 minutes for the car to maneuver the unlit, damaged roads. By the time Mary was admitted to the clinic, she was almost dead.
KMET is responding to the crisis by training and creating networks of health providers who offer women cheap post-abortive care. KMET has also established a Sisterhood for Change (SFC) center, which educates teenage girls about reproductive health. The girls (many of them mothers, orphans, high-school dropouts and/or commercial sex workers) learn about contraception, sex, pregnancy and HIV/AIDs. The girls then become advocates in their communities and are encouraged to teach others about safe-sex practices, particularly about condom use.
Where does Kiva come in? KMET has an extensive volunteer base of community health workers who visit the homes of HIV/AIDs patients to administer drug treatments and provide food. In gratitude for their help, KMET offers these volunteers low-interest microfinance loans, many of which are funded by Kiva. For more information about KMET, please see: http://www.kmet.co.ke/
***
And for the newly-departing Kiva Fellows, I offer a Luo proverb: Ariango misalo kichuo piere piny.
Translation: A real traveler doesn’t stick his buttocks down for any length of time.
In the Time of Voodoo and Soy Cheese
Dedokpo
Moise, the loan officer at Alide- Dedokpo, and I drove into the neighborhood of Aglas Hlazountas. In the mid-afternoon, the local market was pretty quiet, but we needed to scarf up some Kiva clients to interview, so Moise alerted the leader of the group, the woman selling charcoal. Evidently the word spread fast, because soon the Kiva women were upon us, joined by their entire group. Moise explained that the entire group consisted of 50 women who all shared the collatéral of the loan. Only a few of the 50 women were Kiva. They came ready to see us with baskets of wares on their heads. I asked for the honor of their photo. 
Moise explained to the leader of the group that only some of the women were to be interviewed. This caused some panic amongst the clients ; they assumed that the rest would not receive loans. Even though Moise assured them that they would all be receiving loans, some milled around, still upset.
The first woman interviewed appeared a little suspicious of me during the interview, but after her photo, Mouhïnatou Kadiri was ecstatic.
Mouhinatou Kadiri
She left to go sell her articles, trumpeting to the market that now she was sure to receive a loan because of the interview. Beninese ladies generally do not smile when photos were taken, but when I asked Chantal Akoutey if we could take a picture together, she got a kick out of it.
Chantal Akoutey
As I relaxed during the interviews, I found the women more open with me. One of the other women sold soy cheese. I explained my family at one point had grown soybeans. We finished up the market interviews and went to make house calls for the women who sold out of their houses or stores. Moise and I paid for cooked soy cheese from Madeleine Agbedevi; it was delicious, and very Californian.
Madeleine Agbedevi
By the time we concluded our last interview, late evening was falling in Aglas, and Maurice and I sipped our bissap, hibiscus flavored tea which tastes like cranberry juice, out of icy cold bottles and jumped on his Chinese motorcycle to head back to town.
Alide and Kiva clients and me
Voodoo
At the Alide head office the electricity was cut again, and I asked Landry to explain the key concepts of Voodoo to me. I was having trouble making sense of what I had seen at the biggest Voodoo festival in Benin on January 10. Why did the dancing practitioners cut themselves with long knives?
Landry explained that the Voodoo priests, or féticheurs, chose January 10 as a day of prayer, communion with Gods, jubilation, and initiation. Like Catholics, Protestants, and evangelists, Voodooists have different groups such as the Sakpata, Dan, Lissa, Hebiosso, Djaguidi, Zangbeto, Oro, and Egoun. The Zangbeto police catch bad members of the community; The Djaguidi are those that communicate with their god through or cutting themselves. The Oro do not allow women to witness their ceremonies, and the Egoun represent the African dead, brought back to life. According to Landry, originally Voodooists used fetishes to protect themselves against evil. Certain groups also injure their fetishes to cause pain to others. Many Beninese practice voodoo, but it is hard to pin down exact definitions of the religion.
Voodoo Dancers putting on palm paint
When a group of ex-pats and I headed to the city of Ouidah, the old capital of the Beninois slave trade on the Atlantic Ocean, for the January 10 Voodoo Festival, we were certainly not initiated into the practices of voodoo. We had no idea what to expect. What we saw seemed chaotic and difficult to understand. The dancers were half-naked men and women wearing straw skirts and coated in palm oil and sand, which looked like wet yellow paint. They carried long knives, with which they cut themselves repeatedly, mainly on the legs and arms. Although many of the dancers were young, they had deep scars on their bodies. Blood ran freely as they danced, and sometimes Beninese who were not dancers would become possessed by the spirit and throw themselves into the group of dancers, who would encourage the possessed as they hurled themselves into the sand. As the dancers cut so swiftly their knives became blurs, I grabbed my friend’s wrist, unable to watch, but willing myself to remember that this was a sacred ceremony. Because there was no discernible boundaries, the watchers, a mixture of Beninese and a smattering of tourists, stood around the dancers, but had to run quite frequently as the dancers changed direction and ran towards us. Periodically men who were not clearly affiliated with the dancers would demand money from people taking photos. The dancers never used knives against each other or against the watchers, but as they were possessed it was best to give them some room.
Talk softly and carry a long knife
Caroline cut into Landry and my discussion. “The majority of Beninese are Catholic and don’t like voodoo,” she said, “Voodoo has been commoditized to sell Beninese culture to tourists.”
Landry protested that it was still an important part of the culture. There were some tourists at the event, but the vast majority of the people at the ceremony were Beninese.
“Do you want to be initiated into Voodoo?” Landry asked me a little jokingly, who was not initiated. “Voodoo will bring you peace.”
“Don’t listen to him!” called Rosalyne the secretary firmly from the other office.
As my group departed the ceremony, deciding not to stick around to wait for other groups, the Voodoo cortege arrived, men and women dressed in white, the religious leaders of Voodoo in the country.
the VIPs
Another Festival
Next Friday night was Alidé’s annual party. All of Alidé staff was invited. Our emcee joked that he would auction off tickets to Barack Obama’s Inauguration. For the loan officers, head office, and I, it was a night of bonding. Potato salad, spicy fish, fruit salad, and Castel beer mixed with pineapple juice competed for our attention until midnight. Afterwards, there was West African tunes, salsa, and zouk, combined with a few Beatles songs. Alidé staff hardly ever go out and work long hours, but on Friday we danced until six in the morning.
Clement, a loan officer at Alide- Santa Rita, and his date
Sarah Lawson is a KF6 Fellow working at ALIDé, a microfinance NGO in Cotonou, Benin.
Used Clothing Sales in Northern Mexico
The sale of used clothing is one of the top micro-businesses in northern Mexico. The transport of used items across the US/Mexico border keeps some families fed and clothed.
There are those who dabble in the market and may have just a few items. The items might be for sale in front of their house on a clothesline or a blanket on the ground. The individual may have another business going on- a store, food sales or the like. Their items come from a range of sources- maybe their children outgrew it, maybe they need the cash more than the item, maybe they saw a deal and are now looking for some extra profit.
There are women- used clothing sales tend to be women- who have a greater commitment to the industry. They work the markets. Communities throughout Mexico, typically have their market days. Tuesday and Friday mornings could be in one location. Maybe Wednesday evenings are held in another spot. Saturdays they might head to another town altogether. Typically there is a registration fee to be paid to the group running the market of $M100pesos depending on the size o
f your stand. Some markets are more informal with fees paid each time a table is erected. These women have been putting up stands in the same markets for years. In addition to the casual customer, they have a loyal client base who has come to trust their selections.
Some women may purchase items in “pacas” or bulk. They may buy a hundred pounds or so sight unseen for the markets. With the average American tossing 68lbs a year, there are lots of clothes to be had. Pacas come rated by quality that also varies the price. Items that were discontinued or otherwise never worn receive the highest rating. Brand names- like Levi’s or Hilfiger- in good condition also can increase the cost of a paca.
The final stage is the woman who invests in a store front. She has a greater grasp of the small business market. Typically she can more quickly engage in a more advanced discussion about earnings vs operational costs beyond what is in the cash box. Some refuse to buy in paca. They don’t like putting their resources into this grab bag approach of items unseen. They prefer to cross the border and select item by item what they are going to take for sales back home.
Monterrey, Nuevo Leon is a mere two hours from the Texas border. Shopping across the border is so common that there is even a verb “McAlleando” used when somone is off to McAllen, Texas shopping. Although this is typically used in reference to the wealthier families of Monterrey who go to the malls in Texas in the same way that someone from Nashville might go shopping in Atlanta.
Used clothing venders might some may head to the state of Guanajuato, the most enterprising sellers
of used clothing travel to the border markets or cross the border into Texas. The Texas market was particularly lucrative back in the early fall when it was $10pesos to the $1. We are currently closer to $14pesos to the $1- that takes a huge bite out of a small profit margin. Before the currency fluctuation, people claimed they could make double. Buy a shirt used in the US for $2 and sell it for $4. The more experienced sellers talk about the market like a long term investor about his portfolio. There are good times and bad. These are some of the bad times.
Back home, items collected by local charities, but not deemed worthy of local resale are boxed up and either sold directly in lots at stores or even auction style at rates ranging from 37cents to 55cents a pound. Many of the items are taken to market with their original Goodwill or Salvation Army tags. By one estimate 50% of donated clothing is sold back to the same workers who made them.
Typically those who cross the border for clothing sales have documentation. Following a rigorous application process that centers around current employment and a vague assessment of your likelihood of returning to Mexico, a ten year visa can be granted. These folks cross the border to bring items back in for resale. The Mexican government has laws against the import of used clothing for resale. The number of items is vague. The customs agent tries to establish a sufficient number of items for the length of your stay in Mexico. Anything else can be heavily taxed.
The government believes the import of such large quantities of used clothing is hurting local manufacturing. The government hasn’t necessarily acknowledged the importance of cheap clothing to poor families. An quick look at the Sears at Monterrey’s Liverpool Mall is a good example. For the most part the items have approximately the same prices as any Sears back home. Same can be said for the Palacio de Hierro, a high end mall in Latin America’s swankiest zip code, San Pedro. This mall targets family incomes of $250,000 and higher- that’s dollars. A shirt for $1.50 or shoes for $3 can go along way to stretch the meager earnings- items not available at Liverpool or Palacio de Hierro.
Mi casa, tu casa: A Kiva Fellow at the Apoyo Integral field partner in El Salvador
My name is Sam Baker, and for the next several months I will be working with Kiva’s field partner Apoyo Integral in El Salvador. Having only been in-country for about a week and recently finished with an or
ientation of Integral’s microfinancial services, I thought I would take the time to highlight an especially unique feature of Apoyo Integral’s loan offerings in El Salvador: technical assistance in home building. Kiva community feedback coupled with longer fundraising times for home improvement and construction projects on the site suggests a slight hesitation among Kiva lenders considering a loan for the sake of home improvement. Having said this, it is not unreasonable to ask for example how a home improvement directly affects an entrepreneurs income, ability to pay off the loan and more importantly; provide a more secure and sustainable future for their families. Fortunately I had the opportunity to explore this question during my visit with Apoyo Integral’s sister project the Salvadoran Foundation for Integral Support’s housing technical assistance program: Tu Proyecto (Your Project). Tagging along for a day of work withTu Proyecto’s civil engineers, I watched how they offered their FREE engineering expertise to four of Apoyo Integral’s home improvement microcredit clients. Clients are advised on everything from cement mixing formulas, structural design, layout, ventilation, lighting as well as water and electricity issues. (In one case a technical assistance engineer was perceptive enough to recommend that a client might move a window to another wall closer to where he planned to place the kitchen table, thereby allowing his school aged children better light to study by during the day!) In addition to learning about a truly useful and uncommon service to homeowners in El Salvador, I also was also presented some data with which to respond to the “housing hesitation” issue: 3 out of 4 visits to Apoyo Lenders happened to be living and working under the same roof. The first lender was a photographer who was intending on building an addition to his house. The Tu Proyecto engineers advised him of a better way to secure his roof from the weather as they feared rain water might soon leak into his house, effectively destroying all the digital photography equipment he uses for his livelihood. The second lender was a farmer who needed to weatherproof his house to store grain, and the third was a carpenter who was building a larger home and considering how he could incorporate his workshop into the design.
Though these are only several examples from many, I believe it is interesting to illustrate how important a home can be for small Salvadoran businesses and indeed small entrepreneurs a
round the world. Not to mention all the benefits of health, safety, and personal dignity that come with owning a decent home. In short, here is Apoyo Integral’s value proposition to Kiva users who invest in their housing loans: Apoyo Integral uses the discounted capital received from Kiva to pay the Tu Proyecto engineers to do free construction evaluations for their clients. This means that in addition to clients being filtered for their financial ability to repay a loan, home owners receive professional engineering advice to ensure an effective investment in a family’s future!
Off to a running start in the Philippines…
Sipping coffee in the lobby of the Metro Centre Hotel, I waited patiently to be greeted by my new co-workers from Community Economic Ventures (CEV) here in Tagbilaran. I assumed I would be easy to spot – lone white guy with luggage – but some 20 minutes past our designated meeting time I started to get worried. As it turns out, they had been doing some worrying of their own while they waited in the opposite lobby just out of sight. We may have started off with a stumble, but otherwise things here are off to a running start.
CEV is headquartered here in Tagbilaran City on the island of Bohol in the southern Philippines but has 17 branches throughout the islands. While they are still in pilot phase and just started offering loans through Kiva less than 2 months ago, they’ve already become remarkably competent with the processes. Several branches have been identified as Kiva branches and we will be traveling over the next two months to train staff, interview borrowers and establish the value of affiliating with Kiva.
In early February I’ll be traveling to Mindanao which is the southernmost province in the Philippines and visiting branches in Agusan Del Sur and South Cotabato. Portions of Mindanao have been deemed unsafe as ‘conflict areas’ due to activities of separatist groups while other areas have recently flooded. But it’s important to note that the island of Mindanao alone is larger than Ireland and isn’t universally dangerous. In fact, the annual Billabong Cloud 9 surfing competition is held every year in Siargao. The remainder of my time will be spent visiting branches throughout Bohol which is known as home to the Chocolate Hills and miniature Tarsiers.
So, while my microfinance partner here is full steam ahead, I’m recovering from jet lag and travel fatigue hoping to keep up with the young, energetic staff here. I’ll be posting more about progress here in the weeks to come. In the meantime you can show support for CEV by joining the Kiva lending team found here: http://www.kiva.org/community/viewTeam?team_id=2754
Working with a Kiva Fellow
This is a blog from Grace Natoolo, the Kiva Coordinator at PEARL Microfinance, as part of an occasional series on reflections from the field. Grace worked most recently with KF6 Bill Brick to continue to grow PEARL’s partnership with Kiva:
WORKING WITH A KIVA FELLOW
Working as a Kiva coordinator for a Microfinance Institution is an interesting and fulfilling obligation especially for one that has the interest and capacity to do so. In most cases we get the chance to do what we are supposed to do, interact with clients, take photos, write stories, and make these experiences known to the world through posting them on the website; yet again we keep our lenders posted on the progress of the businesses they have supported and how this affects the social lives of the entrepreneurs. It’s an interesting bit really.
Another interesting bit about working with Kiva is being in close relations with the Kiva Fellows that are assigned to the MFIs. Surely I wish to copy their courage because in almost all instances, these Ladies and Gentlemen come to the country only knowing the name of the Institution they are to work with plus knowing that they have to visit clients in some rural places but they are always together like they have been here for long and it’s only those in close contacts with the fellows that can explain this to the rest; Ooops!!
On the look of things, the duties of a Kiva Fellow are largely undefined to allow for maximum flexibility once they arrive at their respective MFIs. At least for the Kiva Fellows we have had so far, and probably wherever else they have been, our relationships with Kiva are as smooth as never before and we are grateful for this. Unless you know that the Kiva Fellow came in yesterday, or last week, you might believe that they have been here long enough to know every one and everywhere even better than us the natives. I have come to believe that a neighbor or friend can know your home better by paying attention to those things that you might call minor, and will beat you at your game.
I have had a great experience working with Kiva Fellows; not to forget Douglas Buser, the first fellow to work with Pearl Microfinance from Kiva. I did not have an opportunity to work with him for long but the little time I had to interact with him opened my world to Kiva and what I had to do as I stepped in his shoes. Douglas is remembered by all our staff as a free and hard working person, with a connection to every body. After him came Adam and Genevieve, and as a person, their coming gave me a lot of thought like;
• Will they cope with the situation at hand?
• How about our transportation means of mostly using Taxis and motor cycles (boda bodas)?
• moving deep in the villages in search for a story and a picture,
• having late or no lunch due to the time factor plus
• having a busy schedule through out the week for the whole time we have to work together
But time has made me believe that some people are born managers and will utilize the available resources for their comfort.
Working with Bill Brick, our recent fellow at Pearl Microfinance Ltd., has been a great opportunity for us as an organization and for me as a Kiva Coordinator, my personality and my career. Bill came with a lot of development, hard work, courage and commitment that we at Pearl feel more pleasured to have him around.
Bill met with Elda, Juliet, Grace and Lillian all Staff at Pearl Microfinance during one of the decentralization training programmes for Kiva.
Can you imagine, whenever we had to visit a group in the field, all he needed to know was which side of the country we had to take and in an instant his map that he would pull out from his bag would enable him familiarize with the journey and that was all.
In almost all our movements, I have heard to feel pity for the fellows especially on dusty bumpy roads, hot days, and even when it has to rain, though they like it, so they tell me. I remember one time we had to visit a group in Mpigi where we took a taxi from the New Taxi park. At first we enjoyed the comfort of a tarmac road, until a certain point when we reached Nateete through a dusty bumpy road until we reached Kasanje, our destination. Surely as a native, there are some things you consider normal and would not be bothered at all when they come your way not until when you realize that the person you are moving with is uncomfortable but again you are already set and surely you can not turn back.
I personally hate rain on my day out in the field but I came to realize that the rains brought a bright smile on Bill’s face hence washing away my fears of ever soaking a muzungu all smeared with dust, with no where to turn for shelter. Operating in such places is why Pearl Microfinance exists to provide financial services to the economically active population of Uganda and we take these services right to our Clients’ sitting rooms; unlike most Commercial Banks.
I will use this opportunity to commend my friends for the sacrifice they made working with Pearl Microfinance and me in beating deadlines to the point that I have had to make them move late in the night in the hands of over speeding taxi drivers; their ability to meet all their costs for the sake of the people who need financial services, and above all, we at Pearl Microfinance are grateful to Kiva for always availing an extra hand at no cost to help MFIs realize their visions. We shall always remain indebted to you.
Sweet December
Sweet December
My Dominican co-workers wore sweaters to work when temperature fell below 70 degrees in December. “Winter is cold here,” friends and employees told me. While I stuck to my t-shirts in the day, I did cut short my nightly unheated showers.
Mujeres Necesitades outside the Hato Mayor office: these bank members finished a loan in December and took out another, expecting that December would be a better month for sales. Numerous community banks reported throughout October and November that they had seen an economic downturn in their areas. Many credit the worldwide economic crisis. Most expected improvements as the new year approached.
At Esperanza International, offices in El Seibo and Hato Mayor recently worked through a large number of loan cycle renewals. Many community banks successfully wrapped up their six-month payment plans in early December, and promptly transitioned to another round, taking advantage of the annual rise in consumer demand around Chritsmastime and New Years. Not only was it gift-giving season, December also marks the start of the zafra, the sugarcane cutting season. Notoriously brutal, sugarcane has a legacy and a reality that falls somewhere on the “excessively exploitative” industry spectrum. One colleague calls the trade “a 19th century system that has just stuck around.” Undocumented Haitian migrant workers both survive by and suffer under the sugarcane economy. Sugarcane plantation communities, bateys, are strikingly isolated, resource-poor, and under-served. Bateys are also home to many of Esperanza’s community banks.
During a December interview, Cloreta, a Kiva-funded entrepreneur explained her situation simply, “this loan lets me keep food on the table.” While most of my Kiva interviews touch on hopes to pay school fees, open full-service stores, or repair individual homes, this conversation centered on a battle for subsistence. Many of the challenges facing Cloreta relate to living on a batey.
The Caribe Tours bus stop in Santo Domingo. Getting around the Dominican isn't too hard. These 60-some person buses go to all major cities. Smaller 25 person vans, taxis, motos, and other vehicles make up a wide array of transport options. Any combination of these methods gets you almost anywhere.
Away from the plantations, it is easy to gather an optimistic impression of economic development in the Dominican. Bus companies, motos*, guaguas*, carros publicos* and decent road infrastructure allow access to many nooks and crannies of cities and countryside. Motorcycle and scooter businesses fill streets with thundering packs of personal transport. There are innumerable dance clubs. Free trade zones in several cities employ thousands of workers, and the government seems to enforce some basic employment rights. Semi-rural towns have restaurants and motels. A significant number of young adults attend a battery of urban universities; degrees in medicine, computer engineering, accounting, and tourism studies are popular. Cable television, DSL internet, and Playstations regularly
Cheap, easy, and crowded city transport: the carro publico. Cram in six perhaps seven passengers. About 50 cents a ride.
Example of starting small: a bag's worth of clothes to sell. This entrepreneur hopes to expand over time.
appear in middle-income homes. Entrepreneurs are able to access large inventory vendors to buy in bulk. Entrepreneurs in rural and semi-rural areas can access main roads, and streams (although sometimes small) of clients who both live and pass through their communities. A good number of Esperanza bank members from all of these areas show convincing progress over time: a small food stand advances into a variety-goods colmado, a clothing seller goes from selling out of a backpack to setting up her own home-side storefront. These same entrepreneurs also talk of changing their tactics and strategies and adjusting their inventories and in order to fit into the best local economic niche. There is both flexibility and possibility.
Entering a batey is a distinct experience. Generally, long tire-pounding dirt roads wind their way from main thoroughfares into seas of cane– tall, stiff, and green. Austere cookie-cutter housing (built by the government or
private companies), sits secluded on cleared-out land somewhere amidst the green. Plumbing is rare. Some bateys have schoolhouses, others have no sanitary water. Some cane companies have abandoned the bateys themselves, but the crop still grows and locals harvest and sell it on their own. Bateys still under commercial control may have company stores, chunks of wages paid in “store credit” rather than cash, and rules forbidding locals to vend similar goods in the batey. Much like undocumented immigrants in the United States, Haitians cross the Dominican border in great need of work, and form the backbone of the most physically demanding and poorly paid workforce in the country. Human rights groups narrate a story of slave-like conscription and labor conditions, (local Dominicans may agree or disagree with that characterization). Migrant workers’ vulnerability, however, goes undisputed. The communities generally speak any mix of Kreyol and Spanish. If families have come “illegally” from Haiti**, they lack legal status, along with their children.
Sea of cane (Credit: Kayla Villnow)
Children of Haitians born in the Dominican stand in a citizenship void: unrecognized by either government. Dominican officials periodically round up illegal Haitains for mass deportations– another reason to remain isolated in the cane. Dominican radio talk show hosts may engage the topic of the “Haitian problem” from time to time. Rosy is not the word for the Haitian-Dominican relationship. The roster of issues is long.
UN peacekeeping in Haiti (credit: www.pbase.com) See postscript.
Cloreta lives on a company-owned batey. She is a Haitian immigrant, as are the majority of her neighbors. She sells modest foodstuffs—crackers, sugar, and coffee, oil and flour. She explained that she’d like to sell more diverse products, but this would conflict with the rules of the company-owned store. At the time (early December) she pointed out that the first wages of the
Some bateys have basic community infrastructure, such as school houses.
season would arrive in about a week. When cane cutters get paid, the batey economy gains liquidity, and Cloreta can take in cash. As she said, right now her income really only allows her to subsist and pay back her loan. The Esperanza payments, however, include mandatory savings, so at the end of her loan she will end up with an additional cushion.
The cane season will continue until the summer. Perhaps the six-month period will allow Cloreta to add to her savings, and allow her to reach beyond the “food on the table” goal. Cloreta plans on continuing with her microloans, she sees this opportunity as completely worthwhile. Other community members clearly have taken notice: the bank was training at least ten new members that day. During our interview, one of Cloreta’s colleagues was busy at work translating the loan officer’s information into Kreyol, since several knew no Spanish.
Fruits of much labor: a Kiva-funded bank gathered in a colleague's convenience store. A good example of successful growth over time.
I can’t decide if it’s fair to say that the cane season makes December and entirely “sweeter” month than others. Regardless, the batey clients certainly are skilled “lemonade” chefs, given all of the “lemons” they get.
Hasta la proxima,
Kalie, Kiva Fellow-Dominican Republic
(written from Los Alcarrizos)
*guaga: a van or truck, usually smaller than a 60 person bus. May also refer to buses. Motos: motorcycle taxi. Usually $1 or $2 a ride. Carros publicos: run down recycled cars that run designated routes in cities. About 50 cens a ride.
** Postcript on Haiti: Haiti today is considered a “failed state.” In the fall of 2008, hurricanes killed hundreds of Haitians, and completely destroyed entire communities. The latest of a series of UN peacekeeping forces has been stationed in the country since 2004 (UN-Haiti missions date back to 1993), in response to continued political violence between the Haitian government and other forces vyying for power. Many Haitians who attempt to leave the country cross over to the Dominican Republic (a rather pourous border). As undocumented workers, much like in the United States, they become the cheap-labor source for cane-cutting.
The racial and cultural divides between Dominicans and Haitians is palpable. A textbook might narrate the complexities of Haitian history from its birth via the famous country-wide slave uprising (Haiti is the world’s oldest black republic) to years of occupation, dictatorship, violent political instability, and today’s profound poverty. Meanwhile, day to day life in the Dominican reveals deeply seated ideas of race—the common phrase“black as a Haitian” is one way to call someone unattractive. As a Catholic-dominated country, many Dominicans also come up with wild stories of Haitian Voodoo practice: from baby-eating to witch-curses. Concurrently, many Dominicans emphatically reject the idea that racism partly defines Dominican-Haitian relationship.
First, Get A Sack
“Idhi tich?” Nelson, my compound’s askari (guard), asked as I made my way to the gate. “Adhi tich!” I replied with complete enthusiasm, slightly mangling the Dholuo phrase, but hoping that maybe, just maybe, today I had said it well enough to be understood.
With an encouraging, patient smile, Nelson had me repeat the phrase that explained I was going to work until it was intelligible to him, if not anyone else who might have to suffer the misfortune of hearing my rather hopeless, though enthusiastic, attempts to speak Dholuo.
Masaeko, the K-MET askari, received a dose of it when I arrived at the office. At my bright “Oyawore! Ichiewo nadi?!” (Good morning! How have you woken up?!), complete with eager smile and the panting of a puppy just waiting to be petted, he exclaimed “ah!” and laughed with the friendliness that I have become accustom to each morning. He replied in Dholuo, and I positively skipped into the office, happy to be at work.
I work on the second floor of the K-MET office, in what is known as the library. I love this room. People wander in and out, using the photocopier and stopping to chat for a few moments. I can hear the roosters from the backyard chicken coop crowing (an activity they do not restrict to only morning, choosing to share their talents at any time they please), the call to prayer from a local mosque (which is in possession of some powerful loudspeakers), and the children at the Josanna Academy down the road.
Light breezes bring warm air in through the window, making the white net curtain wave lazily, brushing against the window’s sea-colored trim in a sleepy caress. From my desk, I can see the road out this window, which shows signs of having once been paved but is now dusty and rocky – when I get home from work I rinse my feet and my newly acquired tan slowly drips down the drain.
I usually share the library with my co-worker Debrah, who has long ceased to be just a co-worker and has become a good friend, as I consider everyone at K-MET to be. On this day, she is giving a demonstration on how to make a garden in a sack. Reason being, Debrah is a volunteer and works on the Food Security Project within K-MET. The Food Security Project is a division of K-MET’s Nutrition Program, both of which act as components of K-MET’s Home Based Care initiative.
K-MET’s Nutrition Program started in 2003 with the goal to improve the nutritional status of the patients that K-MET’s Community Health Workers provide home based care for. The program was initiated when the health workers (who are all K-MET trained volunteers) realized that many of their patients did not have enough food and that this fact drastically affected both the health of the patient and their ability to properly adhere to any medication course they may have been prescribed.
K-MET began training their network of Community Health Workers in the area of nutrition so that they may now counsel their patients on eating a healthy diet. In a region where lack of food and hunger are common, K-MET understands that knowledge of good nutrition may not be the primary problem, but rather lack of access to food. Many of the patients living with HIV do not have a steady income, thus getting enough food is often extremely difficult. K-MET works to address this issue by distributing Nutriflour – a corn flour blend mixed with various vitamins and supplements. Located in the room adjacent to the K-MET Health Clinic is the Nutrition Center, where K-MET owns a poshomill (a machine which grinds the maize into flour) and creates the Nutriflour. Packets of Nutriflour are sold here and also distributed to the Community Health Workers to give to their patients during their visits. Members of the community can also bring their own maize to be milled here.
young women milling flour at the K-MET Nutrition Center
Recently the Nutrition Program has swelled and is expanding to meet the community’s needs. Brought on board to assist Ken, the director of the Nutrition Program, Debrah focuses on addressing the need for food security in vulnerable families in the area. She holds training workshops for K-MET’s patients that cover a variety of food issues, with a focus made on growing your own food in order to assure food security. Using the demonstration garden in K-MET’s backyard, Debrah instructs local women on gardening techniques and teaches them tips to maximize their small garden space. Many families, however, do not have enough space to have a garden for personal food production, even a very small one. So Debrah recently held a seminar to instruct women on how to make a “garden in a sack.”
A group of about 12 women gathered in the K-MET compound to learn how to use a small amount of space to grow healthy vegetables like Kale by creating a miniature garden within a basic, large sack. The women come from the St. Rael Support Group, a K-MET organized support group for women living with HIV/AIDS. The group meets every Friday and takes part in a variety of activities. From KMET, the group receives education, information on nutrition, technical advice and items such as seeds in order to build up their families’ food security. St. Rael Support Group, with an enrollment of 28, is still a young group, but K-MET hopes that as the group becomes more cohesive and established, that the women will be able to be introduced into the microfinance program. With loans from K-MET, the group may be able to purchase farming implements and start large scale farming as an income generating activity.
the wamama wait for the demonstration to begin
Some of the women had walked quite far to get to the K-MET office, so they sat in the shade to rest and wait, while Debrah finished preparations for the demonstration.
As you may have guessed, the first step in creating a garden in a sack is to get a sack.
You then fill said sack with dirt until it is almost completely full.
have sack, will fill
The next step is to nestle an open-ended box (or tube, if you will), made of either metal or plastic or cardboard, in the dirt within the sack and fill it with stones. This is used as the watering system for the sack garden. Water is poured into the box and it slowly filters through the stones, gradually watering the vegetables without flooding them.
the array of materials-stones, dirt, and sack
The demonstration was lively and the group was very active, laughing as they worked and arguing over the best methods. Well, at least that’s what they told me they were talking about. As I only know various Dholuo greetings, I’m not much use in understanding gardening conversations. The process moved along quickly, and I was eager to see what the final product looked like.
it's almost done!
After the stone watering system is in place and the sack is completely filled with dirt, holes are poked into the sides of the sack and seedlings are planted within. With water and sunlight, they will grow out of the sides of the sack, providing a vulnerable family with needed healthy vegetables. Kale, the popular leafy green vegetable that is sautéed and called “kisuma wiki,” is one of the most appropriate vegetables for the garden in a sack.
Debrah and Masaeko plant the seedlings
the finishing touches to the Garden in a Sack!
After the garden in a sack demonstration, the group took a well-deserved lunch of stew, ugali (a cooked mix of flour and water that forms a kind of paste that is a staple carbohydrate in Kenya) and, of course, kisuma wiki.
a cheeky chicken finds its way into the K-MET office, pauses, checks out the scene
Oh and those roosters I hear in the backyard each day? Well, they too are doing their part in K-MET’s Food Security Program.
Find out more about K-MET’s programs on their website :www.kmet.co.ke and keep an eye out for new K-MET loans on the Kiva website!
Speaking about Poverty
Day in and day out I swerve through Honduran shanty towns, isolated hovels, over exquisite landscapes and into ditches. I can’t open my eyes wide enough, and at the end of everyday I have more questions than the day before. The questions are complex and every one leads me down a rabbit hole. Its starts like this: To begin with, how do we really measure poverty here in Honduras? And once I identify the poor, I wonder, does Prisma reach the poorest of the poor? If not, is it enough that they reach the middle poor, and by virtue of growing small business opportunity, they grow opportunities for employment of the poorest of the poor? Given the global economic crisis, is encouraging debt responsible? Is it more important for the borrower to just feel less poor? Or is that just an enormously arrogant view? And once we move into the realm of feelings, we lose all measurements. But lets say we wanted to measure feeling poor, is that something we should do? And how? My head is swimming.
All my questions really crystallize as I write journal updates. Let me stop asking and begin.
Sometimes I meet people whose situation is dire. They live in garbage. As we drive up, dirty children come to greet us. Big, haunting stares. As we talk I find it hard to focus for the sheer quantity of flies in their open homes. This was the case of Doña Reina Marina Fernandez. She lives in a tiny isolated village. To get there I rode on the back of a motocycle for over two hours of dirt road. We stopped twice to push it through rivers and sludge. We arrive to find the majority of her property totally destroyed by the recent flooding that has decimated the southern region of Honduras. The flooding has changed the shape of her land and her oven is about to fall off a cliff. She is trying to figure out how to move it since she makes her business baking bread and other sweets.
Flooded Property
Her smiling son of about 15 comes to greet us. I give him a hearty greeting just to find that he is mute. Like an idiot I say, “hello, how are you?” in sign language. First, signing in Spanish is as different as speaking in Spanish. Second, of course he didn’t go to sign language school. This person has no communicative ability, because he was never taught to talk. He smiles and gestures and Manuel, the saint of a loan officer that has been taking me around, understands him. Or pretends to. For several months this year, the flooding isolated this town. Most of the crops of every person, including Doña Reina, were destroyed and there is little to eat. They take the bus in now to Danli to buy basic goods, and try to sell them in an economy, that for all appearances, is hardly functioning. It should be stated clearly that she is open about her circumstance and is honest about her difficulties but she was honorable and resolute. She has a quick wit, and asked me interesting questions about the US. She wonders how many people are farmers. I could only tell her that my family was a family farming and my dad still works in agriculture.
Surely, this is “the poor”. Right? But who are the children I see out of the corner of my eye as we whiz through pueblo after pueblo, and in the shadows of Tegucigalpa? They raise their heads out of giant dumpsters as we pass by, faces covered in flies. Are they being reached by microfinance? If not, can they be?
And in my journal updates how can I represent the poverty here. Telling one person’s story is satisfying, and its my job, but really its not about one person. Its about a system. I write the details of one person but on re-reading every update they seem flat and one-dimensional. I find myself wanting to highlight poverty for Kiva lenders. Then they can feel like their loan meant something. They can feel they are helping. I feel horrible when on my visits find myself looking for the saddest part of their story. Preserving their dignity is important to me, and I try to stop myself. I do, but its hard. I so badly want to see an extreme transformation that I have to make sure I’m not fabricating it. Progress is so incremental, often non-existent.
Sometimes I have a totally different problem representing the borrowers. Sometimes the borrowers don’t seem nearly as poor. They definitely needed it, accordingly the loan was helpful, but in no way life altering in the Muhammad Yunus sense. This was very true on a recent visit.
I meet many people like Victor, who really make me question the system and the goal of microfinance. He is a former professional football player in Honduras. He played 10 years in the professional soccer leagues of this country and for many teams. I’m told that 10 years ago soccer players didn’t make the money that they do now. Still- this seems to indicate a level of opportunity Doña Reina can only dream of. He now operates his own taxi business. We talk on his outdoor patio while workers finish painting his two-story house a nice new shade of vibrant yellow. His lovely, stylish wife passes through on her way to visit friends, high-heels clicking past my filthy, dusty tennis shoes. He owns his taxi, and his personal car, and needed a loan to fix a broken transmission. This sounds like the kind of debt I have. He supports two children who live in Tegucigalpa while the attend University. As an unpaid Kiva Fellow, with little to no plan about how I’m going to finance my life in the U.S when I return in 5 months, saddled with student loans, I wonder if Victor is actually richer than me. Surely not. Right?
Victor
Though this doesn’t feel like the microfinance of my imagination, the Victors of Honduras are a crucial cog in the microfinance machine. In order to reach the poorest (assuming that they do) Prisma needs him. Before they are a development organization, they are a bank. Their technical abilities, and sound internal policies make the humanitarian arm of their business more effective. Obviously this is a simple concept, but will Kiva lenders feel emotionally fulfilled when they learn the true details of his life? Is this a breakdown in the system? I want to accurately describe what I see here, really shedding light on the whole system, and thereby foster true understanding. But something about Victor’s loan doesn’t feel like microfinance. Still, it was a small loan, so that counts. Right?
Understanding what poverty looks like here, how microfinance fits, and whether it’s addressing the real causes of poverty, where cultural differences begin and end, how to speak to truth, and where I am in the whole system is hard. I’ll admit freely: right now, I am lost.
Last Impressions
My life has turned into a bunch of “lasts.” My last time seeing friends I have made here, my last time gathering around the table with what has become my family, my last time going to my favorite market where they know me by name, my last time swimming in the warm and oh-so-blue Indian Ocean, my last time laughing with others about my attempt to speak and understand kiswahili, my last time holding on for dear life on a daladala (city bus), my last time climbing those 3 flights of stairs to the whitewashed office that is SELFINA (the partner Mico-Finance Institution I am assigned to), my last night sleeping under a mosquito net, my last Monday, my last Tuesday, my last Wednesday….the list goes on…
If I had to sum up what I have learned in this experience, it is to be patient and flexible (well, as much as my Type A personality will allow!). Working on an internet based system when internet is haphazard and sometimes non-existent for periods of up to 2 weeks, one has to be patient and flexible. Having malaria far from one’s home base and still having to achieve certain goals in a short period of time, one has to be patient and flexible. Driving for up to 2 hours, swerving through traffic on the main roads and then trying not to smash one’s head on the roof top on some of the bumpiest dirt roads I have ever seen only to arrive to a location to find the client you are looking for not there, one has to be patient and flexible. Trying to make sure when journaling that information does not get lost in translation (sometimes the client will talk very expressively for 10 minutes and the Kiva Coordinator will simply tell me the client is doing well), one has to be patient and flexible. Understanding SELFINA’s capabilities and the Kiva requirements and making that relationship sustainable, one has to be patient and flexible.
Without a doubt, this experience has been very unique and inspiring. Being invited to these women’s (SELFINA makes loans only to women in order to empower them in society) business and homes and learning about their struggles and their future dreams and plans has given me a peek at the strength and potential Tanzania possesses.
It has truly been an honor.
Le Colonel
Three years ago, the streets I drive on today in downtown Lomé were ablaze with burning tires and barricades, as civilians protested the contested results of the presidential election. Gnassingbé Eyadéma, the longest ruling leader in Africa (second in the world only to Fidel Castro) had died on February 5, 2005. Two months later, an election pronounced his son, Faure Gnassingbé, the winner, defeating an opposition coalition of six parties.
More than 100 people were wounded in the violence after Faure Gnassingbé was declared the victor of Togo's presidential elections in 2005. (Photo: NYT)
Though the elections were monitored by an outside organization and proclaimed legitimate, some “abnormalities” were cited. According to the New York Times: “In one discrepancy, in the northern prefecture of Kozah, 218,786 people were shown to have voted for Mr. Gnassingbé. Government statistics show the entire population of Kozah as being 156,000.”
A 6-year-old boy killed by stray bullets as the militia raided houses, looking for opposition supporters. (Photo: NYT)
Protesters were shot by the military, innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire, and nothing ever changed with the election results.
Now, almost four years later, aside from the occasional garbage fire and petty crime, the streets are generally peaceful. The evidence of the period of human rights violations has been reduced to the occasional passing remark, and international sanctions have recently been lifted.
Due to my living situation, however, I personally have a constant, subtle, and morally unsettling reminder of the atrocities.
Before coming to Togo, I met a nice Togolese guy who was volunteering at a soup kitchen with me in New York. We became friends, and when I found out that Kiva was sending me to Togo, he offered to let me stay with his family in Lomé.
I didn’t know that living with his family would make my time in Togo the most rewarding, comfortable and fulfilling travel experience I’ve ever had.
I also didn’t know that his father was the head of the branch of the Togolese military that protects President Gnassingbé.
This is the same President Gnassingbé who is accused of rigging elections, brazenly disrespecting the sanctity of democracy, and commanding a military that allegedly murdered opposition supporters in their own homes in one of the worst human rights violations in modern West African history.
“Le Colonel,” as everyone calls my homestay father, is a strong, serious and often stern man, yet it is clear that the universal respect that the entire household (and neighborhood) has for him goes deeper than his rank. He is strict with his two teenage daughters – they are never allowed to go out, except to go to school or buy something in the neighborhood – but he has explained to me that it is because he wants them to finish their education successfully, without distractions.
His niece, Brenam, lives with us as well. She is 24 (like me), and she has a one-year-old daughter that is the cutest child alive. When she found out she was pregnant two years ago, her father kicked her out of the house. With nowhere to go, she turned to the Colonel, and he took her in. He now pays for Brenam’s continuing education – she is studying finance – for her food and shelter, and for a maid to look after her daughter. Without the Colonel’s generosity, what could Brenam have done as a single mother with no family support? I shudder to think.
It was not easy to decide to write this blog post. With everything the Colonel has done for me, and all the time I have spent in his household, I must admit that I feel an allegiance to him and his family. I love them, and I feel as though I am betraying them in some way by writing this post. However, in the end I have more of an allegiance to the truth, to the dissemination of information and cross-cultural understanding, than to most other things.
I don’t know what the Colonel’s role was in the violence of 2005. Perhaps he was a leading perpetrator, confidently and without hesitation ordering the deaths of innocent people in the same way he orders another bottle of water from the boys who work at the house. But maybe he was a rock that kept the waves of violence from washing away the entire country. Maybe he felt the same compassion for the victims of the clash, the children killed by stray bullets, as he did for his young pregnant niece, and maybe he did his best to protect them amidst extreme political pressure and military commitments.
In the spirit of the American justice system, I ask you all please to reserve judgment on the Colonel. The generosity he has shown me and the way his family has welcomed me as one of their own has allowed me to focus my energy and attention on my work for Kiva, knowing that I have a safe, comfortable place to come home to at night.
I will never know what kind of man the Colonel was in the tragedy of 2005. All I can know for sure is that he loves his daughters enough to be strict with them, he loved Brenam enough to take her in when she had nothing, and he was kind enough to share his home and his family with a helpless American stranger. And for those things he has earned my respect and gratitude.
***
I am a Kiva Fellow, Class of KF6/7, serving three months in Lome, Togo, and three more in Thies, Senegal. Please check out my current MFI, IMCEC, and see all of their fundraising loans here!
A Fistful Of Dollars: The Story Of A Kiva.org Loan
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve explained the concept behind Kiva to family, friends, and people I’ve met along the way, but each time my explanation is slightly different.
This is because Kiva is really quite difficult to explain. It incorporates frightfully odd concepts such as microfinance, acronyms such as MFIs, faux acronyms (“what does K.I.V.A. stand for anyhow?”), frequently confused verbs “lend” and “borrow”, crossovers between banking and charity, international flows of money, interest and yet no interest, is it a tech start-up or is it a non-profit? It’s both Jim, but not as we know it.
I used to start with the basics: “Kiva is a website…”. But then I thought that makes it sound a bit, dare I say it, cheap, like hamsterdance.com is a website, so then I switched to “Kiva is a web-based non-profit organisation” which is the signal to most people to stop listening immediately and start planning an escape route to the bathroom.
I like to tailor the explanation depending on who the person is, how interested they seem, whether they know terminology such as microfinance or even the internet – in some Cambodian villages knowledge of the former outweighs knowledge of the latter whilst back home in England the opposite is true.
But when it comes down to it, does anyone really understand the Kiva process from start to finish? Well sure they do! But will we ever meet these mysterious people? Probably not.
So before I left my job at Credit Suisse in London, I decided it would be great to try and follow one loan through the system from start to finish, for the benefit of my colleagues who I coaxed into making a loan, and for myself, and for anyone else who is interested.
Three months later and my little project has reached fruition and dropped right off the tree in a sticky mess. An eleven minute video that I’ve effectively been married to for twelve weeks. It haunts my dreams. I’ve developed repetitive strain injury in my left arm from sitting at my laptop.
But I’m thoroughly glad I did it as I’ve discovered a new passion for making and editing videos to add to my long list of hobbies-to-take-up-and-then-drop-months-later. And I’m right-handed anyway.
I hope that you enjoy watching it as much as I enjoyed making it.
Note: To watch the video in full screen (recommended) please click on the four arrows in the bottom right-hand corner of the video
To see all of the AMK loans currently fundraising on Kiva.org please click here
Additional note: To link directly to the video please use the following URL: http://www.vimeo.com/2769845
Breaking the ice at XacBank
Why is it that when you’re just starting a job, you always introduce yourself to the CEO with spinach in your teeth, or rip your pants pocket, or spill toner on your shirt?
My finest hour was when I was starting on the copy desk at a newspaper, trying to make a good impression as a head-down, able worker, and the copy chief gave me a big story. I had my take-out dinner on my desk. As I stared intently at the screen, trying to be the model of a journalist who’s so totally engrossed in the task at hand he can’t even be bothered to look at his food, I gave my Orangina a vigorous shake, as instructed on the bottle. Forgetting about the cap. Which was off.
The guy sitting next to me said he couldn’t believe his eyes: me just shaking this bottle, the bright-yellow fizzy drink flying everywhere. And it took me a second to catch on, too: even as I felt myself getting I drenched I think I was in disbelief at the sheer stupidity of what I was doing, so I kept right on shaking the bottle for another second, soaking my clothes, dinner, and workstation in sugary goodness.
Yeah, I’m awesome.
So I’m on Day 2 as a Kiva Fellow at XacBank, here in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. XacBank is the first microfinance institution Kiva has partnered with in this country, and I have been given specific instructions to make a good first impression as a Kiva representative because Kiva is super-excited about the partnership. And I am, too: I’ve been pumped to get to Mongolia ever since I heard Kiva would be starting operations here.
In Azerbaijan, where I spent about two months as a Fellow before coming here, each of the MFIs I worked with rents a few rooms and has a few employees in their main office. I got to know the CEOs personally. We all wore sweaters to work most days. The employees were tight, like families.
XacBank (pronounced haas-bank) is like — well, a bank. It’s a microfinance bank, but it’s definitely a bank. Gleaming marble floors. ATMs. Currency exchange. An HR department. Fatigue-wearing security guards with guns. Suits and ties. A conference room with snazzy rolling chairs.
So, of course, Day 2, I break a mug right in the hallway by the stairs, the most high-traffic part of the office. I’m actually thinking, as I put the mug down on the blatantly-neither-flat-nor-level Hyundai water cooler (see photo): “This sure seems likely to fall, as this is not a flat surface.” I’m actually thinking that.
This is not a flat surface.
And this is not a new experience. I’ve been down this road before, either thinking “if I back up any more, I’ll put my tail light out on that fire hydrant,” or “if I flick this cigarette butt that way, it’ll hit that dude’s Harley,” and then proceeding to do it anyway.
So now I’m picking up broken ceramic shards and apologizing to whoever walks by. And I’m having a lousy day — I’m new to this country, it’s freezing cold, there’s bad news coming by e-mail from home and I’m too far away to be of help, I feel lonely and jet-lagged — and I’m experiencing wave after wave of let’s-call-the-new-guy-’butterfingers’ shame.
“In Mongolia,” he says, “it’s good luck if you break something. We say that if you break a glass, all conflicts will go away. So now, any conflicts people were having with each other on this floor will be solved.”
I’m not sure if this is true, or if he was just feeling sorry for me and decided to make something up. It made me feel better, though.
