Author Archive
The day after mañana
By Sally Bolton, KF11, Mexico
Mañana holds a special place in Mexican culture. The frustrations of mañana (tomorrow) when it comes to dealing with mechanics, tradespeople, the phone company or any branch of Mexican bureaucracy are well documented. When will the internet be reconnected? Mañana. When will the doors be put back on my apartment? Mañana. When will this rubbish be collected? Mañana. Just about the only time when mañana won’t cut it is when you are asked to pay a ‘fine’ to the traffic police. Your suggestion that you pay the ‘fine’ mañana at the police station will not be well received.
But instead of complaining about mañana I actually want to celebrate it. Sometimes mañana can be a great thing, particularly when it comes to microfinance.
Kiva’s field partner CrediComún seeks to distinguish itself in the crowded Mexican microfinance marketplace by offering a very fast turn-around on loan requests. The average time from receiving a loan request to disbursing the loan is two days.
I want your autograph… here and here, and here and here and here
By Sally Bolton, KF11, Mexico
A strange thing happens when the time comes to take a photo of a Kiva borrower or group. Women who moments before were smiling and laughing suddenly put on their solemn photo face. My colleague Marta is great at coaxing a smile from even the most serious photo subjects. “Lend me a smile, please,” she says. “I’m going to make you a star! Next stop, Hollywood!” The women break into smiles, and with a quick click of the camera she captures the moment.
The women have another thing in common with Hollywood stars, aside from having their photo taken. They have extensive experience in signing their names. Over and over and over again. Only they’re not signing autographs for their adoring fans, they’re signing all of the documents required to disburse a loan.
A Mexican waiver
By Sally Bolton, KF11 Mexico
“I’m so happy that you can come with me to Tlalnepantla today,” said Leti, the loan officer I was working with last week. “There’s a group there who don’t want to enter into Kiva for their second loan cycle. Maybe you can convince them that they should.”
Convince them? I wasn’t sure that was my role. Leti explained that a few of the group members didn’t want to appear on the Kiva website given the drug violence and fragile security situation in Mexico. They were concerned that appearing on Kiva might put them at risk.
On one hand I was really happy to know that the group had been fully informed about what it means to receive a Kiva loan. All borrowers must sign a Kiva Client Waiver, indicating that they are aware that their photo and story will be published on the Kiva website. But a signed form doesn’t necessarily mean that the borrower fully understands how Kiva works. Most borrowers will happily sign every form that is put in front of them so they can receive their loan. They often don’t read the forms closely, or perhaps they can’t read them. So it is important that the loan officer explains to them exactly what it means to ‘enter into Kiva’.
When the river runs dry
Once upon a time in Oaxaca, Mexico there was a fine river which flowed below Jicaltepec. Nowadays the fish are gone and the earth is dry. Young children are wide-eyed at their parents’ stories of playing and swimming in the river as children themselves.
It seems impossibly dry in the Costa Chica, a region on the south coast of Mexico a few hours east of Acapulco. Straddling the states of Guerrero and Oaxaca, the villages of the Costa Chica are far removed from the decadence of the famous resort town.
The hills are tinderbox- dry, and at night fires dance on distant ridgelines. People confidently tell me that the rains will come in May or June, but last year it didn’t rain until October and then only for one month. The town of Pinotepa Nacional has run out of water, and there are tensions over the licenses to truck in water for those who can afford to pay for it.
As the river has dried up so has the farming sector. Fields which were once farmed now lie fallow. Pedro, the manager of the Fundacion Realidad (FRAC) office in Pinotepa, tells me that many peasant farmers have left the region in search of opportunities in El Norte (the United States). With them has gone much of the knowledge of traditional farming in the area.
Bright Lights, Big City (Mexico City)
Imagine life as a Kiva Fellow. Imagine living in some remote location far removed from the distractions and temptations of modern city life. Imagine struggling with slow internet connections and power outages. Imagine rustic housing and domestic compromises. Imagine a life not unlike what you have been living for the past year in Timor-Leste, the young half-island nation still struggling with the challenges of post-conflict development.
Instead, you find yourself in Mexico City, a grand swirling explosion of a metropolis. Or perhaps even a megalopolis, a word you learned in seventh grade geography and have not had a chance to use nearly as often as you would have liked.
