Posts filed under ‘KF3 (Kiva Fellows 3rd Class)’
More from Cambodia
Phnom Penh, Cambodia
It seems like every day in the field is a learning experience, specifically, about how the other half lives. Being out and about, visiting people in thatched, stilt homes as we sit barefoot on the floor and smile at each other just seems too good to be true sometimes. I love my work!
Being new to microfinance, I didn’t have a clear understanding about how it all worked beyond the basic concept – giving the poor access to just a little bit of capital at a reasonable interest rate so that they can better their lives. The beauty of Kiva is that they’ve really latched on to something profound - a medium by which lenders from rich countries can lend to those in poor and make them feel like they can reach right out and touch these people. I was looking at comments to my posts the other day and found that people actually write personal messages to the borrowers – that’s the power of the concept that’s been created! (Photo: Siem Morm picking long beans)
Just the other day, I wrote in one of my journal that “Previously she(Saran Rous) had purchased both her loom and materials on credit from the middleman and received minimal compensation when she provided the finished product. Now she is able to earn around $1.50 USD per day for her labors.” Can you believe that?! I write it as if – Wow, look at how much she makes now! But it’s TRUE, these are the kinds of incremental changes we’re dealing with that improve people’s lives. Daily, I continue to have my mind blown over details like this..jpg)
Most people we speak with use the loans for simple small improvements to their businesses. Many never had capital to purchase things upfront and had to work on credit for which their end profits were much reduced. These loans really only give them a slight edge, but it’s enough. Others say they borrow because it’s too difficult to save. There are no banks in the villages, so if the money is at home they’ll spend it. The truth is that it’s really not so dissimilar from the way a credit card works. The borrowers also have to put up considerable collateral (like the deed to their land) so they don’t default, and it seems to work. Maxima, the MFI I’m working with, says their loan default rate is less than 1%! Not bad in a country where most people only earn around $2/day. (Photo: Hand-woven silk on the loom)
Besides actually loving the work, I’ve also been blessed to have been placed with an MFI as professional and gracious as Maxima. With a staff of 23, even all the loan officers at Maxima have degrees in finance or business, or are going to night school to get them. On top of that (more for our benefit than anything) several speak English fluently, a half dozen are much better than average, and most of the rest can at least speak as much English as we can Khmer (the local language). This has made our field interviews so much deeper than we ever would have hoped because we can just wing-it from person to person to gather lots of interesting information.
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Every time we interview, I’m impressed at how sweet, gentle and open the Khmers are. They smile with their whole face and most seem, dare I say, “tickled” that we’re interested in them and downright AMAZED that people from all over the world can see their photo. They have pride too, and most women want to clean up and/or change clothes before I take another photo of them once they realize so many people will see it. Almost everyone in Cambodia works where they live so that our interviews all happen in people’s homes. They’re modest homes, mostly wood or thatched, raised on concrete stilts with an open living/work area on the ground floor. I’ve found myself both amazed and appalled sometimes at how many people live in such a small space. (My most extreme example so far is 10 people in a 10′x 12′ space! They all sleep on the floor.) For most, their children are their biggest concern and hope for the betterment of the family’s future. Remember that not so long ago, 30% of the population was eradicated by the Khmer Rouge genocide so that now a huge portion of the population consists of young parents and their children. For many, this is the first generation that even has a CHANCE of pursuing education past the 8th grade level. (Photo: Ny Sith with children)
Cambodia IS a poor country, but the Khmers aren’t lazy and most seem intent not only on bettering their lives immediately, but providing for future generations. It’s clear to me why microfinance has such a high success rate here and it’s exciting to be a small part of it. (Photo: Darin + loan officer interviewing Kiva borrowers at home)
Meet Samuel “Sam” Mayanja Ssekajja, Manager of Share an Opportunity Micro-finance Ltd, Kampala, Uganda
David Groves is a hero. I will probably never meet him, but if I do, I will shake his hand and thank him for boarding an airplane in Australia bound for Kampala, Uganda in 1991, armed with nothing more than the name of the author of an article published in the Baptist Union General Society Newsletter about the terrible plight of Ugandan war orphans following years of civil strife.
Mr. Groves ultimately located that author, Pastor John Ekudu, General Secretary of the Ugandan Baptist Union, and formed a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) called Share an Opportunity, Uganda (SAO) dedicated to the support of parentless Ugandan children orphaned by the dual scourge of war and HIV/Aids.
In 1993 SAO hired its second staff member, a recent business school graduate and Kampala native named Samuel Mayanja Ssekajja; Sam for short. Fourteen years later, in 2007, Sam is the Manager of Share an Opportunity (SAO) Micro-Finance Ltd in Kampala, and my new boss as a Kiva Fellow.
What follows is the history of Sam’s evolution as a micro-finance banker, whose work has positively impacted the lives of tens of thousands of poor Ugandans, multiplying the altruism of David Groves many times over.
Sam has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After completing his undergraduate degree in Business Management, he went back to business school to earn a degree in Purchasing and Supplies Management. He returned a third time to undertake a degree in Accounting followed by a Post Graduate degree in Micro-finance and then an MBA specializing in Project Management. He did all this while raising a family of five children with his wife Juliet and working full time for Share an Opportunity Uganda, a not-for-profit social service organization.
Above all else, Sam is an entrepreneur. The first day we met, I peppered him with questions non-stop for four hours to piece together his story of perseverance and creativity in one of the most chaotic business environments I can imagine.
Sam’s first assignment in 1993 was to create a program for income generation at the 10 centers across Uganda where a total of 50 orphans were housed with families in villages served by a Baptist church. The problem was the number of centers, and the number of orphans in each center, was growing faster than the budget to support them. By 1998 there were 25 centers with 40 children per center, a fourteen fold increase in orphans in only five years.
Sam developed a program to increase farming productivity at the centers. Typically, villagers engaged in subsistence agriculture; raising chickens, pigs, and other animals as well as growing maize (corn), cabbage, passion fruit, egg plant, and bananas. Uganda is located on the equator which means farmers can plant and harvest two crops each year. Planting season is September and March, the two rainy months, and harvest is in late August /early September and February.
Sam purchased improved hybrid corn seed developed in Uganda at the National Research Organization (NARO). The 3 new hybrids, called Long 4, Long 5 and Long 6, greatly increased yields compared to open pollinated seed saved from the previous crop. Farmers were not required to pay for the seed until after harvest.
He obtained professionally grown cabbage seed, eliminating the possibility seed borne plant disease, thus increasing the odds of a successful crop.
Sam went to the Ugandan government to obtain a locally bred hybrid passion fruit that crossed a disease resistant, but bitter, yellow variety with a local purple passion fruit, a good tasting variety that was susceptible to disease. The new Purple Hybrid produced a healthy crop of big succulent fruit.
He advised villagers how to increase banana yield through improved cultural practices. In the climate of Uganda, a banana plant grows from seed to a full grown plant in 9 months. Three months later, the new plant produces its first bunch of bananas. Sam showed villagers how trimming the banana plant back to three suckers of different lengths encourages continuous banana production.
SAO Uganda also distributed essential farm implements to the villagers. In Uganda, the majority of farming is done by hand, using simple, but essential, tools.
Finally, he encouraged the members of the village committees to focus their efforts on the most profitable crops, what he calls an “enterprise” approach. Previously, each family made independent planting decisions and then consumed what they produced. Sam encouraged them to pool output to create a marketable crop to attract cash paying commodity buyers.
The income generation program yielded three results;
1. Agricultural output increased, generating income from surplus production, and sustaining the orphan program.
2. Other villagers, beyond the original families housing orphans, joined the local committees.
3. The idea of credit and paying for inputs after harvest was introduced.
By 1997, Sam broadened SAO programs to include value added services like bakery production and primary health care education to reduce disease. These programs were implemented by volunteers within the villages. The number of centers increased as word of SAO and Sam’s success spread.
Fundamentally, Share an Opportunity was a charitable social service organization, not a business. Sam began to see problems with that approach.
Some of the villagers, who volunteered with orphans or in the various social service programs, saw their crop inputs as payment for services rendered and not debts repayable after harvest.
Other local committees had problems with self dealing of committee members, resulting in bad debt collection problems.
The fundamental problem, as he saw it, was the lack of savings at the local level. Villagers saved very little, and relied on the charitable parent organization when problems arose. Equity was not growing in the centers.
Sam saw a demand for micro credit, especially crop loans, but for ethical reasons SAO’s partners at Baptist World Aid did not wish SAO to be a banker. Locally owned SACCO’s, or Savings Credit Cooperative Societies, were Sam’s compromise to satisfy both local credit needs and his partner’s principles of maintaining community relationships.
A SACCO is based on the principle of local ownership. Members purchase share capital and pay a membership fee. In a SACCO the borrowers are the owners. The original methodology was group loans where members guaranteed each other’s loans and each borrower contributed 20% of the loan amount in compulsory savings.
Village committees were aggregated to parishes (6 villages), sub-counties (6-7 parishes), and districts (5 sub-counties).
When Sam received permission from his board to form the first SACCO, he did what many entrepreneurs do; he went back to the customers who knew him, trusted him, and respected him.
His first SACCO was in Zirobwe, a rural sub-county in Luwero district, 45 miles outside the capital city of Kampala, which had been one of the original orphan centers.
Convincing villagers to invest their meager cash savings in a cooperative society was not an easy task. Uganda has a long and tarnished history of co-ops. For several decades, warring factions plundered agricultural co-ops, stealing their stocks of cocoa, coffee, and cotton, and selling them in neighboring countries to finance armies. Banks were robbed. No savings institution was spared. Savings societies lost everything.
In 2000 Sam fearlessly ventured into this difficult business environment, selling founder’s capital in SAO’s first SACCO, many times to villagers who stored cash in buried coffee cans. His first meetings were held under a tree. Sam and a college intern crisscrossed the Zirobwe district meeting with small groups of men and women.
This was a different approach than social services. Previously, many SAO programs centered on the distribution of free goods or free education, paid for by a distant funding source. With the SACCO, it was all business. The customers were the owners who were borrowing their own money.
Although Sam’s board authorized him to pursue the SACCO concept, it did not provide start-up capital. They allowed him to petition five centers in Central Uganda, where his Income Generation Programs had generated a diminishing pool of retained earnings. Sam asked the committees to give up control of those funds (about US $3,000) so they could be used as loan capital for the Zirobwe SACCO. It wasn’t much money, but it was significant because this was the first SAO Uganda program to be completely self funded.
By 2001 Sam had mobilized three SACCOs, Zirobwe and Ngogwe in rural settings and Wakisso, in an urban location. As usual, growth was faster than funding. Just when Sam needed more money, a large umbrella organization for co-operative societies in Uganda named Uganda Cooperative Alliance advertised for smaller organizations to join them. Interestingly, the large organization had attempted to establish a SACCO in Ngogwe and failed.
As an inducement to join, UCA offered a free start-up pack for SACCO’s:
1. Office rent
2. Salary for two staff
3. Safe
4. Furniture
5. Stationery, including pass books
6. Supervisory audits
No start-up capital was offered, but since Sam was out of money, he enrolled the three operating SAO SACCO’s and used funds for the start-up packs to loan even more money through new SACCO’s.
Today, Share An Opportunity Micro Finance Ltd. supports and loans to 14 branded SACCO’s, serving more than 10,000 poor Ugandans.
As usual, Sam did not limit his services to funding loans. He recommends “enterprise solutions” wherever SAO lends money. In Zirobwe, he encouraged the cultivation of upland rice, which produces higher returns.
In Ngogwe, he help convert farmers to maize production. Previously, they supported themselves by growing coffee or fishing from canoes on nearby Lake Victoria. In 1997, wilt disease wiped out the coffee crop and the government granted fishing rights for export to modern fishing vessels, which greatly diminished the local catch.
Soon after Ngogwe farmers switched to vanilla production, that market crashed.
Sam encouraged them to focus on corn production. Due to their critical mass of production (100 sack of corn are needed to fill a lorry), and increasing demand from drought stricken Kenya and war ravaged Sudan (as well as ethanol production in the US), maize prices are strong and the Ngowe SACCO is prospering. Additionally, SAO loaned money for the purchase of a flour mill in Ngogwe, which allowed local farmers to add value to their crop, increasing sales revenue 200-300%.
Sam and his new Board, composed of professionals of diverse backgrounds and business skills, completed a strategic plan in 2007 which concluded that in order to be sustainable; SAO Micro-Finance Ltd had to operate as a stand-alone for-profit business.
The problem with loaning to SACCO’s is that it is a low margin business. SAO loans to the SACCO at a 1%/month interest rate and the SACCO loans to its members at a 3% per month rate, using the spread to cover operating costs. The loans are small, so Share an Opportunity was perennially short of funds with which to grow.
Sam and his Board saw an opportunity in making loans directly to individuals in and around Kampala at substantially higher interest rates. In addition, he wanted to grant loans referred and guaranteed by his SACCO customers that exceeded the SACCO’s maximum loan size.
Once again Sam had an idea for expansion and no way to fund it. His eyes sparkled as he related to me the serendipitous story of how the very same week in February 2007 when he launched the direct lending program (“I have to start”, he told himself), he received a letter from Kiva.org inviting him to apply for funding of direct loans to poor borrowers.
Since February 2007 Share an Opportunity Micro-Finance Ltd. has funded about 50 individual loans through Kiva, totaling approximately $US 50,000. I will be calling on those borrowers and posting journals on the Kiva website to chronicle the impact of micro-finance on their lives.
SAO Microfinance Ltd currently has 6 full time employees, including Sam.
When Sam talks about the business, he speaks in terms of products. He’s looking for unfilled customer requirements and a profitable way to provide them.
He spoke of “school/crop loans” for the SACCO’s. In Uganda school begins in February (1st term), May (2nd term) and September (3rd. term). It is not free. Farmers are often forced to sell their harvest right out of the field, at the lowest possible price, in order to pay tuition for their children. Sam sees an opportunity for short term school loans, repaid by storing the crop and selling it at a higher price later.
He wants to finance more equipment and storage facilities to add value to crops at the village level.
He has been approached by at least one local employer about offering “salary loans”, which are loans to employees guaranteed by the employer and repaid through payroll deduction.
He is very interested in “double bottom line” projects which are both profitable and environmentally friendly. He sees a need for increased agricultural productivity; getting more food from existing cultivated acres, so farmers will be less likely to convert virgin, environmentally sensitive, land into marginal farmland.
As you can imagine, Sam is a natural born salesman. Walking down the street beside him is like being with the mayor. He greets everyone with a smile and a comment, and he knows every name. In the rural community of Ngogwe he is affectionately known as “Uncle Sam”. He was so smooth in negotiating a 45% discount on my hotel rate; everyone was smiling when the deal was struck.
It is no surprise that Sam sees my arrival as an opportunity to create new “products” and attract new customers. We talked about creating a business skills training module for his customers, based partially on my experience in US small business.
He wants me to look at their website, which was created when SAO was still a social service agency, and suggest ways to make it more valuable and user friendly for SACCO’s and commercial borrowers.
There is a perpetual need for updated and revised business plans. Sam pointed out micro-finance is the fastest growing business segment in Africa and it changes monthly. Commercial banks are now involved and the competition is increasing. I will be working with him on SAO’s planning.
My first meeting with Sam obviously covered a lot of ground. He is an energetic individual, to say the least. The moment that most impressed me was when he handed me a deposit book from one of his SACCO’s.
It was a simple little affair, kind of a pocket-sized version of the “blue book” we all used for college exams. The blue cover was printed with logo of the SACCO and the address. Inside the front cover was a rectangular outlined area to glue a photo of the owner of the pass book. The white pages inside were printed with a simple spreadsheet to record deposits and withdrawals.
The whole thing reminded me of my first “bank book” in third grade back in the 1950’s. Mom gave each of us five cents a week to deposit. We would carefully place the nickel in the envelope containing our bank book and close it securely using a string that wrapped around two circular tabs. At school, the teacher would announce “bank day” and collect our envelopes. Later, when she returned the envelopes minus the coin, we would all check our bank book, and sure enough find a new entry showing the 5 cent deposit. That bank book was very important to me.
Sam described how SACCO members are proud of their pass books. For many, it is the first time in their life they ever had personal savings. For many it represents the first official transaction they ever completed. The picture on the pass book is sometimes the only one they ever owned.
Many members, especially women, refuse to take their passbook out of the SACCO office. They are so proud of it and so fearful of losing it (or letting their husband have access to it), they insist on keeping it in the office safe.
As Sam told me this story, I realized he is a business man with his own “double bottom line”. He is clearly driven to succeed, but he also has a soft side that recognizes the profound effect he is having on the lives of others.
This is a man I can work with.
More later….
Drew
Videos on YouTube
Hello! Over the past month I have been experimenting with the video feature on my camera to add to the depth of the journals. If you’re interested in watching any of these videos (be warned, the quality is not the best!), you can go to youtube.com and search for Kiva Peru. I believe at the moment there are twelve of them, and I will be adding more in the next few weeks! Each video has an accompanying journal on Kiva’s Journal page, or you can search by the entrepreneur’s name on the Lend page. Enjoy!
Watching Kiva Funds in Action!
I’ve been in Kenya for a couple of weeks now and have seen such diversity in not only the people, plants, and animals but also in standard of living, quality of life, and income levels. Like anywhere in the world some people live expensive, lavish lifestyles while others work hard with little to show for it at the end of the day. In Kenya, the latter is definitely the most prominent. But last week as a Kiva Fellow at Action Now: Kenya(ANK) in Nairobi, I saw the beauty and success of microfinance that I had hoped for but was skeptical about as I embarked on this adventure (in terms of the realities of economic opportunities in the developing world). In addition, I got to see the effects of Kiva first hand, and as an avid microfinance supporter, and as a Kiva lender myself, I was more than pleasantly surprised.
ANK’s lending model differs from what we traditionally think of when we think about microfinance. ANK uses micro-leasing as a means of uplifting people from poor economic conditions. Through micro-leasing, clients are provided with tangible goods as an in-kind loan, instead of cash, that can be used to start, expand, or enhance their business and improve their income, and ultimately the quality of life for them and their families. The clients are then responsible for paying back the cost of the items in the same manner, with the same terms, as a traditional cash loan. When in desperate situations, a cash loan is sometimes used to satisfy needs completely unrelated to the client’s business. This not only increases the client’s debt burden, it also leaves them without the advantage of additional investment capital to enhance their business – causing a downward-spiraling effect on their economic well-being. Micro-leasing bypasses this issue. You can’t feed a hungry child with a sewing machine. But you can use that sewing machine to earn income to feed that child.
So, last week I accompanied the loan officer/community mobilizer/superwoman who does just about anything that needs to be done, to the bank to meet with Jeremiah, a Kiva client. It was here that I could see Kiva funds actually working the way I, as a Kiva lender myself, envisioned it. The money that was raised for Jeremiah was deposited into ANK’s bank account and there I was, in a land far, far away from where the funds most likely came from, withdrawing it. It was almost as if there was this outstretched arm coming directly from the developed world with cash in hand, connecting with us here in Kenya!
We withdrew half of the exact amount of Jeremiah’s loan and headed for the Gikomba market to purchase the goods he needed for his shop. The other half will be used to make purchases in the near future. ANK’s procedure is for the loan officer to accompany the client to the shop and to get a receipt for the full amount of the purchases as evidence of the disbursement of the loan. The first shop we went to buy Jeremiah’s goods did not have any receipts available. This was not sufficient for the ANK officer due to the lack of accountability and transparency that could transpire, as well as the potential for inadvertently taking part in unethical trading. So we found another shop, one which was willing to provide a receipt, where Jeremiah could purchase his goods using the Kiva funds. In this small gesture, ANK exhibited its integrity and dedication to best practices.
While we were in the shop, the employee who was serving us was curious about this type of loan and where the money came from. She expressed that she had wanted to open a small business of her own but didn’t know where she would be able to get the capital to start-up. We told her about ANK and about Kiva and she was really excited about the idea. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve learned that the majority of ANK’s clients hear about their micro-leasing program through word-of-mouth. They see a friend doing well in business, ask them how they did it, and come into ANK’s office to apply for a loan. Viral marketing has shown to be an effective tool for creating awareness of ANK’s products/services. To me, any product customers take upon themselves to promote, must be a great product. And in the case of microfinance, it’s not just the product they are promoting, they are promoting being proactive in uplifting oneself from poverty. Now there’s a product I can feel good about!
Arrival in Uganda
My name is Drew Kinder. I am a Kiva Fellow from Buffalo, NY assigned to Share an Opportunity (SAO), a Micro-Finance Institution (MFI) headquartered in Kampala, Uganda.
Although my future postings will be about the borrowers I meet in Uganda, this first blog answers the question of how I ended up in Uganda volunteering for three months as a Kiva Fellow.
I discovered Kiva in March 2007 after reading a column in the New York Times written by Nicholas Kristof. I was captivated by the Kiva website and the ease of loaning $25 to entrepreneurs around the world. This struck me as an elegant way to participate in the lives of the “poorest of the poor”, as a business transaction rather than a gift. The fact that I received no interest on my $25 loan was immaterial. The important thing was being repaid. To date, my Kiva loan portfolio contains over 25 loans, including 3 loans that have been repaid and then re-loaned.
One fateful day I discovered the Kiva Fellows program while navigating around the website.
The program made business sense to me. Kiva relies on its MFI customers around the world to find borrowers, tell their stories, disburse the funds, and collect repayment of the loans when due. Based on my experience in wholesale sales and distribution, I knew that customer relationships like this work best when you travel to the customer’s place of business.
My business in Buffalo is an internet-based, seasonal, small business, with 98% of sales occurring from March through October. Although I would prefer year-round sales, the benefit of seasonality on the web is the freedom to close your doors when customers are not buying and do something else.
The timing of the Kiva Fellowship was ideal for me. Kiva requires a minimum commitment of ten weeks, which fits neatly into my business schedule.
When I applied for the volunteer fellowship, I couldn’t help but wonder how the application of a seasoned entrepreneur would be received by an organization founded and staffed by bright young people. I was pleased to be accepted. One thing led to another, and I celebrated Thanksgiving on a plane bound for Uganda.
One of my daughters, who has volunteered in an orphanage in Chile and a tribal village in India, administered earthquake relief in Pakistan, and interned with the Minister of Finance of Liberia, gave me the following advice; “Dad, if you’re not wracked with self-doubt on the plane ride over there, you haven’t challenged yourself enough.” By her standard, I am fully challenged!
I have never been a banker, I’ve never been to Uganda, I speak only English, and I have not been away from my family this long since my wife and I married thirty years ago. Despite these limitations, and more, I fully intend to have a positive impact on Kiva’s mission in Uganda. If I lose sight of why I am here, all I have to do is read the words on my ball cap; “Kiva.org… loans that change lives”
Cheers,
Drew Kinder
Inspired in Tanzania
Greetings from Dana in Dar es Salaam, where I have been placed with Tujijenge Tanzania! In this past month, it’s been exciting to see the initial partnership form between Tujijenge Tanzania and Kiva, as they work together to provide loans to their clients. My officemates get so excited when they see all the different profiles on the Kiva website of people from all over the world who have become lenders to their clients. My translator/partner and I have now completed over 30 interviews of entrepreneurs, 26 of which have already been posted online and their loans completely raised. It’s truly amazing how fast people respond on the Kiva website– loan amounts being raised in hours, even minutes. I am currently fascinated by the Kiva model– how individuals around the world are brought together online– and wonder if it could be expanded to serve other areas of need besides microfinance.
A week ago Saturday, I visited an oncology hospital with the women from my church community group, which has been meeting weekly for Bible study. I found the hospital, which is located next to the president’s palace, to be a place of little hope. Because it is a referral center where patients come from all over the country when rejected by local hospitals (which don’t have the means to treat or often even diagnose the cancer), the patients come during the last stages of their life. By the time they reach this hospital, their cancer has generally spread all over the body and is irrevocable.
During our 2 hour visit, I spent my time in the children’s ward where 20 beds were lined single file against the two walls. I tried talking to the kids and their mothers with my limited Swahili as I sat with them on their beds (single beds that are each shared by two patients and their two mothers every night). Many of the children had lost an eye (left uncovered) due to lymphoma and had other such cancer treatment remnants. The ones with any energy left in their bodies enjoyed our small gift of a pencil and notebook. I took turns drawing pictures with a girl named Vicky, around 9-years-old. They were all so precious.
In my opinion, the hospital lacks the equipment and resources it should have primarily due to financial priorities. With so much need in Tanzania, this hospital is left with not enough beds, medicine, and basic machinery– although it is the primary oncology hospital in the country! The machine that checks electrolytes has been broken for 2 years and has yet to be repaired, which would cost about 2 million shillings (about $1,800). The machine that should work to position people properly for radiotherapy has yet to be bought, thus leaving the patients with unnecessary side effects such as intestinal and bone marrow decay. The situation is that at this hospital, even if more clients were to receive proper treatment and prolong their lives even by a few extra months or weeks, there would be no room for them anyway. Since the clients are literally on their deathbed, who can blame anyone for the prevailing attitude that money could be spent better elsewhere.
I left the hospital depressed, but also inspired. There are people out there who care about injustice and often don’t know how to tangibly help. Maybe in the future, the Kiva model– through the use of the internet– will prove to bring more awareness of ways they/we can get involved with issues that may feel so distant.
Noel
Since arriving in Santo Domingo last month, I’ve been immersed in an array of sights and sounds, faces and families, handshakes and hugs, cooking and cadence, and countless other alliterative elements of Dominican culture. It’s been a whirlwind so far, and for about a three-minute moment everyday – the most time I ever seem to have to reflect – I can’t help but think that my familiar life in the states is being lived by some alternate version of me, and that eventually, he’ll bring me up to speed on the events of the last few months and I’ll tell him he missed out on the chance to bring all of his ideas and ideals out of the ivory tower and into the world. Maybe we’ll have a beer or play bocce ball. Who knows? Clearly, I digress.
Of all the incredible and wonderful facets of Dominican culture that I have had the chance to take in so far, one that I am reminded of everyday really stands out…. everyone starts decorating for Christmas very early here. Like really early. Like right around Halloween early.
It was a horrifying coincidence when Tropical Storm Noel made landfall during the first week of November, just as the first Christmas trees and candy canes were visible in shop windows. Noel came with virtually no advanced notice, and even if their had been a better warning I’m note sure what measures could have been taken. Granted, Noel pales in comparison with what has happened since in Bangladesh. But the victims here would take issue, just as they should, with anyone who told them that their loss is somewhere near the bottom on a phantom list of priorities that the world’s aid agencies have to look at.
I have not been able to speak with members of the affected communities first-hand, largely because Fundacion San Miguel Arcángel has asked me to work mostly in other communities. But I have seen some of the damage while traveling near the Manoguayabo River in Santo Domingo near San Cristobal. The river swelled twenty feet over its average height and literally swallowed the earth beneath thousands of people’s homes. Debris from homes remains scattered across the riverbanks, and where many people had lived on an incline that gradually rolled down to the water’s edge, half their homes are now precariously suspended off a cliff – a complete vertical drop, twenty-five feet above the river.
In some of these communities, school has only restarted this past week. The recovery of physical debris and the job of rebuilding homes and businesses are daunting tasks unto themselves. Confronting the sickness and disease afflicting many of those who have already lost so much is likely to be even more challenging. Local food stocks were rendered mostly unusable, water supplies are barely potable, and all kinds of pests and pathogens fill what remains of homes. Anecdotally, some of FSMA’s clients have been falling very ill. All of FSMA’s clients are women and most are mothers, as well.
With a presidential election just over six months away here, the incumbent’s government has recently revised the latest measurements of Dominican GDP, announcing a rise in the country’s income per capita. I don’t plan on using this space to casually opine on a political situation about which I am almost entirely ignorant, but that announcement struck me as one with potentially serious consequences for Noel victims awaiting international support. The president asked multilateral development agencies for aid after the storm, but many of these agencies have strict GDP per capita limits they adhere to when making aid decisions. It remains to be seen what effect, if any, the announced rise in income will have on the flow of aid. Also, the government has promised the construction of public housing in the most devastated areas. While a good long-term idea, that does not sound like a solution to the immediate issues facing those communities. In both cases, we’ll see.
These photos were taken by the FSMA staff, they show some of the damage near “Control de La Pared de Haina” and “Palavé” on the Manoguayabo River.
FSMA is a relatively new Kiva partner and from what I know right now, none of those people who suffered devastating blows to their families and livelihoods, including death and complete loss of home, are Kiva clients…yet. Now seems like a good opportunity to diversify Kiva’s client list within FSMA to include more of the areas affected by the storm. I hope to be meeting these women soon, and giving Kiva lenders the opportunity to help them restart their businesses.
From Vietnam 3
Working with Mekong Plus in Vietnam has allowed me to observe some of the many different ways one can help the poor. Aside of visiting Kiva borrowers, I also got a chance to observe other projects that Mekong Plus implements as part of its holistic approach towards attacking poverty.
Mekong Plus an extremely wide range of activities. One of the most successful and popular programs is its quilt shop, Vietnam Quilts. The project employs over a hundred poor women in the areas of Duc Linh and Long My. The women are taught to sew quilts and souvenirs that are then sent to Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi to be sold. The project has been very successful and self-sustaining. The revenues generated are poured back into the program, and the women receive a monthly salary. The impact is tremendous because it allows the women to stay close to home and work instead of leaving their children for several days at a time to find work in far away areas. Also, it empowers the women by providing handicraft skills and financial freedom. I had a chance to visit all of the small shops where the quilts and souvenirs are made and the quilt store in Ho Chi Minh City.
One of Mekong Plus’s most important programs to providing a long-term solution to poverty is its scholarship project. Mekong Plus provides hundreds of scholarships to poor students. Education in Vietnam is not free or mandated. Families must pay a yearly tuition if they want their children to receive an education. Also, they are responsible for buying the school uniforms and school supplies. For many poor families, the fee is too high. Many children of the families I visited do not complete the 8th grade. Without an education, they have very little hope of breaking free of poverty. I went with a loan officer one day in order to film and document the event, and I also ended up handing out scholarships. The parents of the students were also there, applauding as their sons’ and daughters’ names were called out. The parents have sacrificed a lot as well to keep their children in school. Not only do they lose on potential income their children could earn by working, but they must also save up to buy the uniforms and school supplies. The scholarships provided by Mekong Plus cover the school fees. The parents would not send their children to school though if they didn’t think it was worth the investment. Talking to the families afterwards, it is clear to me that the families realize how important education is to providing a better life for their children.
In addition to educating poor children, Mekong Plus provides health education to women. I visited two separate classes, one about female hygiene and diseases and another about proper infant care. Many families, especially in the rural areas of Vietnam, have very little exposure to properly caring for themselves or their children. They rely on advice from their friends, family, and even Vietnamese myths. Doctor visits are expensive and health insurance in Vietnam is inadequate. The class on proper infant care was very engaging and successful. The women learned about the human respiratory system. In small groups, they drew and labeled the different parts of the respiratory system. They were given different scenarios and symptoms and were asked to identify the illness. The Mekong Plus staff also taught the women how to properly care for an ill infant. Afterwards, the women were quizzed on what they learned. The class does not end there though. The women must then teach a class on the same topic in the future, and the Mekong staff will supervise them and provide support.
The class on female hygiene was a much more difficult class because the topic is still taboo in Vietnam, especially in the rural areas. The women were less willing to participate. I learned that over 40% of the women in Vietnam however suffer from various diseases, including STDs and breast cancer. The class aimed to provide correct information to the women so that they would be able to self-diagnose themselves and prevent infection. The Mekong Plus staff covered symptoms of various STDs and how to self-check for breast cancer. The staff member also taught the women how to maintain proper hygiene, such as where they should hang their underwear to dry. Cultural attitudes in Vietnam are still tremendous hindrances to sex and health education. I doubt anyone knows when Vietnam will be more open to the subject, but in the mean time, I think it’s wonderful that Mekong Plus has taken it upon themselves to provide proper information to the rural women. Through my interviews, I find that one of the biggest reasons a family ends up in poverty is due to illness. Families must take out huge loans and sell their land and assets in order to pay for doctor visits, hospital bills, and medication. Being able to prevent illness or detect it early may go a long way towards ending poverty.
I only highlighted three of Mekong Plus’s other programs aside from microfinance, but I would like to mention there other projects really quickly. In the Mekong Delta area, Mekong Plus helps build roads and bridges. They have an incense program that provides jobs and income to dozens of poor individuals. The incense is made by the poor and sent to France as part of a Fair Trade agreement. In addition to providing hygiene education to women, Mekong Plus sends toothbrushes, toothpaste, fluoride, and workbooks to schools so that children can learn and practice proper dental hygiene. Mekong Plus trains local citizens to become veterinarians so that the poor farmers can help one anther instead of Mekong Plus having to constantly provide veterinary services. Mekong Plus also has a theatre group that writes plays and puts on performances in the community. The theatre shows are used to educate the community about issues such as alcohol, drugs, HIV, and domestic violence. The list of activities that Mekong Plus is involved goes on. I have been very fortunate to visit many of its other programs, and it has taught me a great deal about how poverty is not simply an economic issue. It is also an issue of health, culture, politics, etc.
Mozambique!
First, I want to apologize for not blogging earlier! I’ve had some problems with my account, but now that I’m able to write, I have absolutely no idea where to begin… It’s hard to believe that I’ve been here for about two months already and only have one more to go. To quickly introduce myself, my name is Charline Yim and I’m currently a Kiva Fellow in Mozambique, working for Kiva´s partner microfinance institution Fundo de Desenvolvimento da Muhler (FDM). I don’t know how exactly to explain what an incredible, crazy experience this has been, but I’ll try my best.
I´ve been lucky enough to spend time now in all three of FDM´s branches, and what strikes me most is how different they are. First, just the locations… While Xai-Xai, the location of FDM´s headquarters, is a small, busy market town where I passed weekends lazily watching soccer games and drinking endless cups of coffee at one of the cities two restaurants with locals to pass the time, Maxixe was an idyllic tourist destination with the lure of picturesque beaches and scuba diving. And now I’m here in the capital Maputo – a large, crowded, polluted city (like any other large city in the world) where I’ve spent a considerable amount of time thus far mainly trying not to get lost. Each FDM office is surprisingly different as well and it’s funny how they mirror their respective locations, but the complete dedication, level of hard work, efficiency, and passion has been the same in all. I’ve had a chance now to work with all 16 of FDM´s loan officers, or promotoras as they call them here, and while each have their own distinct styles and ways of dealing with their clients, each has amazed me with their dedication to the people they serve. We spend literally hours a day walking miles and miles to reach each client, and as I’m sweating to keep up I tend to ask them what they think the hardest part of their job is – they never fail to say the same thing. Yes, they explain, the job is difficult at times, but you get use to it and it’s worth it because they love what they do. They have been nothing but gracious, kind, and truly wonderful to me, and I know that at the end of this entire experience, they are some of the people who I will miss most.
And the clients I’ve met! They welcome me into their homes, introduce me to their children, proudly show me their businesses, and offer me meals without a second thought. While I admit that there have been times when I’ve wondered if it is worth a four hour chapa ride holding someone’s flapping chicken on my lap to reach a single client (and another four hour ride back), finally meeting them and enjoying a moment to sit down with them and talk has always proved worth it. While I have many questions for them, they have just as many for me – ranging from asking what it’s like in the United States (is it like what they see on TV?) to inquiring if I’ve ever seen a mango before. Interestingly, and somewhat strangely, when I tell them I’m from California, I get lots of questions about Arnold Schwarzenegger… The weather here tends to fluctuate between blistering heat, overwhelming humidity, and drenching downpours of rain, and walking in any of these extremes can be challenging at times, but the clients and their families really make it worth it. Not to mention that I’m also put to shame by the children and older women who easily skipping past me carrying buckets of water on their heads as I trudge along. At one client’s business and home, I was invited by her young son and his friends to play a little soccer match with them (at which point I made a complete fool of myself as I, to be frank, am horrible at soccer), but at least he and his friends (and his family…and the loan officer…and the neighbors who stopped to watch) had a good laugh.
There are little reminders of home everywhere. When I have access to a TV, there’s this show on one of the two channels here called Fama Show, the Mozambican version of American Idol which is always being replayed. Their annual beauty pageant here is called Miss KFC. Yes, as in Kentucky Fried Chicken. While one client and I were for some reason (I forget how we reached the topic) discussing our mutual love of coffee, I asked her if she knew what Starbucks was but she refreshingly said no.
While I admit that time here initially felt a bit slow, now with only one month left…I wonder where it went. Like Maren mentions in her blog, my thoughts and experiences here have reached two extremes – from wondering what exactly I’m doing here to moments of complete exhilaration. I definitely won’t miss the public transportation system here as it often entails idling at a stop for two hours to get more passengers (which range from actual people to bags of fertilizer and goats). I’ve also probably spent more time in chicken coops than completely necessary…not to mention that am currently modeling the dirty sneakers, knee socks, unwashed hair, hybrid fanny pack-messenger bag look, but at the same time I can’t help but already feel a bit sad about everything else I’ll leave behind. I know my only regret when I leave will have been that I couldn’t spend more time here, and I plan on savoring every last minute that I have here in Mozambique and working with FDM. Well, that’s it for now. Ate logo!
From Vietnam 2
One of the most memorable visits I had occurred while I was doing interviews in Duc Linh, Binh Thuan province. I visited a small house made of dirt walls and a dirt floor. The walls were crumbling and had holes in them. The family used some plastic to cover up the hole so rain would not get into the house. Sometimes, the plastic is not all that successful. The mother of the house is Pham Thi Xi. She is 38 and married to Nguyen Van Tam. The interview began fairly typically. I asked her about her day and explained to her who I am. I noticed a TV in the corner of the room and asked her if she just bought it. In Vietnam, it seems that no matter how poor, everyone owns a television and karaoke machine. I am always wondering, with all the needs of the family, why purchase a television. Xi responded to my question with a huge smile on her face. She had saved up money from her improved earnings to buy the television. She turned and spoke to the loan officer Chi Phu and said, “It’s thanks to you.” She then couldn’t hold back her tears as she told Chi Phu a story of how the other day her sons were scolded by another family. Her sons went to another family’s home to watch TV, and they were told to leave because their feet and clothes were dirty. Xi said she didn’t want her sons to feel ashamed about being poor, so with the money she earned, she bought them a TV. To her, and probably many other families, having a TV relieves them of the constant reminder that they are poor. It also may symbolize the progress that they have made through their hard work. I am extremely glad that Xi shared that story. While I probably cannot fully understand their struggles, the stories of the borrowers give me a better perspective on the definition of poverty.
Dusty Face and Sore Cheeks
A typical day at work – Darin and I arrive at Maxima’s office and collect our print-outs for the microloan clients we’ll be visiting today, hop on the back of a moto with our loan officer/driver/translator and away we go! After having spent almost a year traveling in Southeast Asia, weaving our way through traffic like one in a school of fish feels natural. The busy Highway 6 leading North of Phnom Penh is dusty and clogged with traffic. Large trucks and buses blare their horns in a “Get out of way way!” message to the other vehicles, which are mostly motos, as they blaze past with minimal room to spare. We arrive at a ferry crossing and stop, waiting with the line of loaded-down motos carrying bags of goods back to the island until the next boat arrives. Fortunately, it’s not long, and we’re soon on our way to Koh Dach, the largest of three Mekong islands, and home to a large community of silk weavers. (Photo: Ferry Crossing) 
Koh Dach is a quiet, tree-shaded, elongated spit of land that feels a world away from the bustle of Phnom Penh. It’s the tail end of monsoon season, but there hasn’t been much rain this year so the dirt roads are only marginally muddy and difficult to navigate. Usually, we’re told, it’s necessary to walk, pushing the moto through the reddish muck, which is something these loan officers are forced to do daily to meet their clients. Darin and I split up, aiming in different directions to split our client list for the day. All visits are unscheduled, as many people do not have phones, but I’m hopeful that we’ll find most at home. I strike out on my first stop – the woman has gone into Phnom Penh for the day to buy her raw silk. My accompanying loan officer stops to ask a store owner for directions to our next client as there are no addresses. Luckily, the woman is at home. Eksavy, age 48, has been weaving since she was a teenager and is now teaching her daughter the craft after school hours. She invites us to sit, Khmer-style (barefoot + cross-legged on a woven mat), while we explain why we’re here. We show her her image printed from the internet, and she looks shy and embarrassed. We ask several questions about her life and the impact the loan has had on it, which she answers, smiling broadly the whole time. She smiles so openly that I can’t help but return it in kind. At the end of the interview, she allows me to take photos and there are bows all around as we thank her and take our leave. Our next couple stops are similar, and the people always cheerful and willing to answer personal questions about income and future hopes. The homes we visit are built in the traditional style – very modest (sometimes only one 10′ x 12′ room) and constructed of wood, thatched palm leaves and/or corrugated steel set up high on concrete stilts with an open-air living space underneath. This ground floor space is where most of the days activities take place. Here is the kitchen, the loom or other piece of equipment and the informal living room where guests are received (and afternoon naps are taken). Everything is done in the open and the need for privacy is minimal compared to what we are accustomed to in the west. (Photo: Maxima loan officers and happy clients) 
We break for lunch at one of the loan officer’s homes (many of them come from rural villages that we visit) and meet up with Darin and his loan officer. We’ve both ridden with three different guys so far – all in their twenties with business/finance backgrounds and varying levels of English proficiency. They’ve not only been great at translating our interviews, but have been so helpful in answers cultural questions and teaching us bits of Khmer language too. We’re really learning alot! After lunch, we head to our next client who treats us with fresh coconuts to drink during the interview. This woman, Rany, is also super-friendly and smiles constantly, seemingly tickled by my presence. I return her smiles – my cheeks are hurting now from all this smiling. Our last stop of the day is at the home of a family applying for a new loan, and I wait nearby as they go through the necessary paperwork with the loan officer. Several children are running around – one boy leans against his grandmother and she pats him affectionately; a few boys are playing soccer barefoot; two beautiful, little girls stand shirtless in colorful sarongs, timidly smiling at me; a round-eyed babe is wobbling around pantless, playing with a piece of broken mirror! Such relaxed parenting in a place where you’ve got to be tough to survive, but everyone looks so happy! (Photo: Grandmother + Grandson) 
We arrive back at the office, dusty and tired… and my cheeks ache from too much smiling 
I wonder who we’ll meet tomorrow…
Peru
Wow, what to say…
I’ve been in Peru now about a month and a half and have had a collection of experiences reflecting every aspect between the poles of ‘what am I doing here?!’ and ‘awe-inspiring beauty’… here are some thoughts I’ve gathered along the way…
Sitting in the idle combi, waiting for it to fill so we can get a move on to Lampa. Been here for about 15 minutes and so far no new passengers; I’m guessing we need at least 4 more until they’ll consider it worth the trip. The señora sits on the street corner, nursing her small child, calling out ‘A Lampa Lampa Lampa’, and at this point I feel compelled to join her in the recruit, growing quickly impatient of the Peruvian methods of transport. I’m tempted to jump out of the overcrowded combi and take a slightly more expensive taxi, but I don’t want to insult my drivers, and the community of fellow travelers gives me a small security the lone ride in the taxi cannot.
It’s Saturday in Juliaca, and I’m taking the day to do some sight seeing after an amazing week of meeting with inspiring entrepreneurs. My face has started to peel from the massive sunburn the Puno region has given me; I had become accustomed to the overcast skies of seaside Lima, and was quickly and oh-so-painfully reminded of the damage a day without sunscreen near the equator can do… however, I’d gladly take the sunburn over the altitude sickness that has greeted me ever so kindly daily at 14,000 feet. My ears are ringing from the constant honking of Juliaca’s motos and taxis; the honking that serves Juliaca as stoplights serve other cities- a good hard honk simply means ‘green light for me, red for you- so hit the breaks or get out of the way!’.
However lacking in simple comforts Juliaca has been, the culture here by far makes up for it, and I’m slow in wanting to leave this place…
I’ve spent the week meeting with men and women who have made me rethink my definition of happiness, necessity, generosity, and love. Over and over again I’m reminded of the story of the poor woman who gave two coins to an offering, while the rich around her were putting in great amounts of money- yet she had put in so much more because while the rich had given out of wealth, she, in her poverty, had given everything she had. I have been welcomed into the homes and for a short time the lives of these people, who have shared their stories and hearts, and then have so willingly insisted on sharing their gifts. Whether it be a block of cheese, freshly painted ceramic figurines, breakfast, dinner, her favorite and best pair of earrings, a medicinal fruit said to cure everything up to cancer, or the honor of naming the newborn calf and being appointed his godmother… I have been truly touched by the endless generosity and ability to give so much out of seemingly so little. It would do the world some good to learn from the lives of the so-called impoverished, and possibly make us take a look at our definition of poverty; it might change the map of who the ‘developing world’ really is…
From Vietnam 1
Hi everyone. I’m Felix, a Kiva fellow in Vietnam. I am and have been working with Mekong Plus since late August. I apologize for not blogging earlier. My schedule was much different from what I expected, but I will be making up those blogs in the next few weeks with reflections on what has happened these past 3 months.
I guess for my first blog EVER, I’d like to share a story about why microlending has greater potential for success rather than donations. After some 200 or some odd interviews, I had some questions and concerns about microlending. Many of the borrowers I visited, while better off than before, were by no means no longer impoverished. Many were still in debt to moneylenders or the government. The borrowers were still working extremely physically demanding jobs. They even sometimes struggled to make the repayments on the Kiva loan. I understand it’s not easy to step out of poverty, but with the incremental progress that the borrowers were making, I wondered how long it would take them or if they would ever no longer be impoverished. How much effective is microlending than donations?
While pondering the question, I had a chance to visit family I never knew I even had. My dad emailed me the phone number of his cousin, and I gave her a call one weekend to see if I could come down. I was pretty excited because I have never seen my family’s hometown. Co Thao (Aunt Thao) took a bus with her aunt to Long My to pick me up. On our way down to Bac Lieu, Co Thao told me if any family member asked me for money, I should tell them that I don’t have any. I asked her why not, and she began to explain to me her family’s situation. She told me how her dad has become dependent on money that the family in the States, including my dad, sends. Ong Chu, her father, has a huge plot of land, yet he doesn’t work. He encourages his family to stay home and wait for the next time money is sent over instead of going to school and working. Every time Ong Chu receives money, he spends it all in one day, paying off debts that he’s developed and drinking.
The trip to my family’s hometown was bittersweet. It wasn’t the way I had imagine my visit to my family’s hometown would be, but the experience has really completed my Kiva Fellowship. Now, I have a better sense of why I journal and promote Kiva. It also gave me a real life example of why we have microlending in the world.
On a sidenote, I’d like to congratulate Co Thao on her wedding and opening up a hair salon shop! I’m proud to see her do something about her situation, and I know she’ll do what’s right for her family.
Do What You Know
(Had a little trouble getting my account activated. This post is from Oct. 18th.) We now have two days of field visits under our belts. The long-awaited quest to gather information has yielded notepad pages full of facts. There is no question we’re dealing with people holding onto the lower rungs of the economic ladder. Many loan recipients have no electricity. If they do, they often can’t afford to use it. Many get their water either from the Mekong in the dry season or collect rain in the monsoon. They cook over charcoal or wood fires. Their houses, elevated on wood or concrete piers to weather floods, are often made from local materials like wood, bamboo and woven leaves and reeds. The more financially secure people have brick, cement, tile and corrugated steel. A vehicle, universally a 100 – 125 cc motorcycle, is a luxury.
To get by, people do what they know how to do. They apply the same skills they use to live. They farm and sell the excess. They weave cloth of silk, cotton and nylon and sell that – usually to middlemen for a small profit.
Some people build, repair or prepare the looms for weaving. They build or sell the materials to build, houses. A few people buy a small stock of groceries and household goods for resale in their village. They fix flat tires. They fish in the lakes or rivers. The economies in the villages we visit are very simple. There are no fancy or luxury services. Some people – the lucky ones – work in local factories that produce bricks or garments but they seem to be a small minority.
The vast majority of people are entrepreneurs. Very few people work for anyone but themselves – big contrast to my home, the US. Everyone seems to be trying to make a buck, though. (US dollars are the default currency in Cambodia.)
Beyond the obvious imperative to survive, they work to save and better their situations. They try to make their businesses more profitable and their lives more secure. Almost without exception, the loan recipients’ one clearly articulated, long-term objective seems to be to get the best possible education for their children. In this environment, any education is a step ahead.
Kumasi
I’ve been in Ghana for 3 months now. I thought my culture shock stages were over after the tro-tro (mini-van bus) dodging, fou-fou (sticky plantains mixed with cassava) eating, sun burning, marriage proposing, etc etc…, but I was wrong.Last week I started my Kiva internship, which involved me moving from Cape Coast to Sinapi’s head office in Kumasi. When I stepped off of the jammed packed tro-tro and into Kumasi, I thought I was stepping off of a plane and into a different country. The hustle and bustle of Kumasi is a different beast. The goats and chickens don’t wonder the streets like they do in Cape Coast, I have to constantly avoid the exhaust from the tro-tros, and there’s always somebody trying to sell me something. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this city.
But now, a week later, I’ve gotten to really enjoy being here. The entrepreneurs that I’ve been interviewing and my co-workers at Sinapi have been extremely welcoming. They’ve taught me some Twi (the local language), how to eat banku (a fermented corn and cassava mixed dough), and unraveled a bit of the chaos in the city. They’ve reminded me the how to enjoy the weirdness of traveling to a different place.
The SPBD Awards Ceremony and Parade
Every year, SPBD holds an event to celebrate its clients. An award ceremony is usually held to recognize exceptional members among the ladies who participate in the loan program. This year’s event was held this past Saturday, and it proved to be the grandest celebration to date. For the first time ever, a parade was organized to march down the main road of Apia, featuring over one thousand of SPBD’s clients. The boisterous women arrived in the early morning and, decked out in matching uniforms according to their borrowing centres, sang and danced their way to the starting line of the parade.
Since it was being held early Saturday morning, traffic was light and only a brief police cordoning of the main road was necessary. I had the honor (and surreal experience) of marching at the front of the parade, right behind the main banner, along with the rest of the SPBD staff as well as the president of SPBD, Greg Casagrande. Because of the early hour, the spectator crowd was rather light, but the ladies sang and danced their hearts out nevertheless.
Once the tail of the parade arrived at the ceremony hall, it took a while for everyone to be seated. The venue was not designed to hold this many people, and the spectrum of colors from the ladies uniforms formed a sort of tightly packed rainbow in the cramped space. The packed seats, festive mood and wandering taro chips vendors created an atmosphere not entirely unlike that of a ballgame. The highlight of the ceremony was the keynote speech given by the Prime Minister of Samoa. He praised the efforts of SPBD and joked with Greg that even the prime minister himself has trouble organizing a gathering of the ladies of his own village, and wondered what it was about Greg that attracted a thousand women to gather in a single hall.
The ceremony proceeded with the presentation for the awards for the Centre Chief of the Year, Centre Secretary of the Year, Businesswomen of the Year, and finally the Centre of the Year. The presentations were followed by a song performance by the centre from Levi Saleimoa, the winner of the Centre of the Year award, and a dance routine by the centre from Nu’usuatia village. It’s a shame that I am unable to post the video of the performances due to bandwidth restrictions- the songs were especially fun and lighthearted, involving props and audience interaction. At the conclusion of the performances, a quick closing prayer was held and everyone rushed off to do their shopping for the upcoming week.
Greetings from Kampala!
My husband, Taylor and I have had an exciting and challenging first few weeks as we meet new people, learn about the culture, and try to navigate in a city of a million people, with 2 traffic lights total Peter, LiA’s staff member was the first to show us around. I thought we would get at “taxi,” meaning a driver in front and us in the back, I soon discovered that “taxis” were called Matatus. For anyone who has experienced this form of transportation, they can understand the deer in the headlights look as I boarded a small mini-bus packed with people while the conductor yelled at me in Luganda (their Ugandan language) and we were told to sit down in an open seat. Peter told me we would get off a few “stops” later. I’m thinking what stops, is there a schedule, how do you know which stop, how do I pay? Low and behold, you just yell when you want to get off, wherever that is along the way, and give the conductor a few hundred shillings for the ride. It’s really not a bad form of transportation, although the stops are frequent and can be long as they wait form more people to get on. Anyway, thank goodness Peter was there to guide us with our first “taxi” experience. As we rode, I sat in the back and was overwhelmed with the sites, the sounds, the smells, and the driving! My first experience on the streets of Uganda was not what I thought it would be, but in retrospect, we just jumped right in, which sometimes is the best way to go. We were exposed to the city all at once and experienced it they way most Ugandans do on a daily basis. I did not feel like a tourist, although being a “Muzungu” (white person), I stood out completely. We searched for housing for a week and were a bit picky because we will be here for about 9 months. That was actually a great way to learn about the city and surrounding areas. We opted to get a special hire (the taxi I was familiar with) in order to make use of time. We were thinking we could find a place in a few days. When we told that to our new Ugandan friends they laughed at us! Their concept of time, especially when apartment hunting, was obviously very different from ours, but fortunately within a week we found something great. We feel very comfortable with the Matatus now and are getting places on our own. In a few weeks the city has become smaller, but I don’t think I will ever get used to the driving. Our first journal experience was very meaningful. George, an Acholi and LiA member, took us to the Acholi Quarter, an Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp where he and other refugees from the conflict in the North live. It is an interesting dynamic because you are happy that the people who live there are safe and out of the war-torn northern Uganda, and yet it is hard to see the conditions that some of them live in. We met Beatrice and she invited us into her home, which consisted on two small spaces divided by a curtain. She had four small cushioned chairs, next to a small charcoal fire for cooking, and invited us to sit. As we unpacked our material a small crowd of beautiful little faces gathered outside her door wanting to see the Muzungus. Everyone just stared as we were trying to take it all in and do our job. As I looked at Beatrice, I saw a lovely woman who was probably my age and yet had been through more trials then I will ever face. She has 3 small children and takes care of one of her brothers. As we chatted, I was able to see that the loan she received changed her life, in a small but significant way. I have read so much about the “loans that change lives” and at that moment I felt so fortunate to be one of the few who gets to see it in person. Even though her conditions had not changed drastically, she had changes. There was now more food in the house, less sickness in her family, and an income generating business she could count on. For Beatrice, even the small chairs for visitors to sit on were a success for her, which she told us were bought with her income from the loan. There was a smile and a hope in her that things can change and dreams can get bigger; a hope that seems to keep many of them going. Beatrice also told us her hope is to someday return to the north and continue with her business; as peace continues and life gets better there. -Tamara …………………………………………. We have really enjoyed the last few weeks here in Kampala. We are learning a lot about Uganda and about how much of the world lives. We see an example of this every night as we walk back to our apartment. People gather at the bottom of a hill around a water tap and fill up their water jugs for the night. On their way back up the hill, they carry their 30 pound jugs right past some of the largest houses in Kampala. Last week, on my way back from a run, I decided to help a lady carry her jug to see what the experience was like. Half way up, I started to sweat profusely and had to stop to catch my breath. The lady giggled at me as I finally made it up the hill. I ran on my way, appreciating in new ways the simple luxury of running water. The highlight of our trip so far has been our visits to the Acholi Quarters, the IDP camp where most of the Life in Africa members live. As we walked towards the camp, little kids followed behind us shouting, “Muzungu, bye! Muzungu, bye!” Tamara took their pictures, which ignited their faces with huge smiles. Once we reached the Quarters, we were able to see people going about their daily routine of washing cloths, making crafts, cooking their food. Seeing the daily lives of the people in the community was eye-opening. The conditions were not squalid, but still, I couldn’t imagine staying in cramped spaces with no electricity or water. The experience left me with a mixture of gratitude and guilt for the daily comfort of my life back in the US. It made me think of a question a college professor once asked me, “If you knew you could give all your money to save another person’s life, would you?” Although I don’t believe that giving away all of your money away is the answer to solving poverty, I still struggle with question. How much should a person give? George showed us around the camp and welcomed us into his home to spend the afternoon. We chatted with him about his family, the sports he liked, and how he made his living making crafts to sell to the market. Sitting there, it was easy to forget that just several years earlier George had been subjected to a horrific war. He told us about his hope of resettling back to his village when the peace between the government and the LRA is more secure. I realized that the actual conflict and the psychological trauma wasn’t the only damage that the war created, the entire community lost literally everything. Before we left George’s house, he invited us to return on Sunday for a community celebration. Each month, every member of the community contributes 13,000 Shilling or about $8 dollars to a pool. The community then selects one person to give the money to. On the day the person receives the money, the community throws a huge party. We took him up his offer and went to the party yesterday. As we arrived to the Acholi Quarter at around 3:00pm, it started to rain heavily. We took shelter for the next 2 and a half hours as we listened to the howling wind and thud of rain against the tin roof. As the rain finally subsided and we emerged from the house, we saw the side of the neighboring house had caved in. George told us that the mud walls were giving way and that the whole house would soon collapse. We also discovered that the rain had caused two of the other houses to collapse. Fortunately, no one was hurt, but the vulnerability of the community was clearly exposed. People took a few hours to regroup after the rains and then the celebration commenced. In the beginning, everyone sat quietly in a community building filled with benches. George explained to me that they were waiting for the guests of honor to arrive, meaning the people that were received the money this month. Four ladies dressed in traditional African dress walked in. Before I knew it, loud music was blaring and a train of women were dancing around me. As the evening progressed, every person at the party, dancing the entire time, presented their gifts to the ladies of honor. Some brought money and others brought couches, chairs and pots. At one point, the whole crowd erupted into howls and danced as a group of young men brought in a goat, tossing it in the air. I have never experienced anything like that. On the same day that several houses in the small community had been destroyed, people were dancing and celebrating joyfully. I was amazed by the generosity, the interdependence and the resilience of the community, which was embodied in this simple tradition of sharing. -Taylor
Alinyikira: Continue Hard Work
It was not my intent to write so soon about another lending group, but I found a real gem in the Alinyikira Lending Group in the Village of Mutundwe, just on the outskirts of Kampala, Uganda.
To get to Mutundwe, you have to go to Old Taxi Park in the center of Kampala. This could be a story in itself, but in brief, it consists of approximately 10 acres of land jammed with matatoos: converted Toyota vans capable of handling 14 passengers. They all are white and look exactly the same. Thousands of riders are constantly converging on the park as market stands and walking vendors add to the already crowded site. You ask toll collectors and drivers which matatoo to Mutundwe, and they point to an area in the park. You keep moving and asking and soon you find a toll collector who directs you to specific matatoo. You get in and wait until it is full, then the driver hops in and you begin the exit. The van pushes past hundreds of people, marketers move their stands and other vans move forwards and backwards as your matatoo pushes on to exit the park.
Once on the road, you head out of town for almost an hour. Buildings become one story, then the buildings become shacks. You press on. It has rained and the muddy dirt road is closed. We take a different route, past wholesale lumber yards, mechanic shops, etc. We stop. There is a large crowd of people congregating around a very large puddle of water. Two vehicles are stuck in the middle, with water up to their doors. Everyone watches. Our driver waits to see another vehicle make it thru and he guns it and we push thru, creating a wave that rises up and rolls over all the people watching. They laugh and cheer. We’re thru and we press on. We come to a hill, with a muddy rut down the middle that causes us to lean steeply to the left. Bouncing and holding on we reach our destination: Mutundwe.
Susan, the senior credit officer for Pearl is with me. We get out and start walking along a muddy path till we comes to a small store. There I meet Janet. Janet owns the store which almost exclusively sells products for baking: flour, salt, sugar, yeast, cooking oil, etc. I find it odd that she can make a living just selling bakers products. I will soon learn why.
Janet is the chairperson and one of the founding members of the Alinyikira Lending Group. Alinyikira means ‘continue hard work’. Again, I will also soon learn why.
Janet takes us to visit the members at their place of business. First we go to her house. Tied to a tree next to her front door, a calf is resting. We enter and immediately are introduced to Samuel and Resty, two members of the group. Samuel is 58 and raises 600 layers. He has had a lifetime experience managing hens. He recently built a second story on his hen house behind his home to double the number of hens. He is a small, but rugged looking man and very gentle in nature. Resty is a pistol. Filled with energy, she runs a rental catering business.
We leave the house and all go to visit the other members businesses. Each time more join and follow. It soon becomes apparent how close in friendship all the members of the group are. They gain strength from one another. For several hours we wander thru the village. There are no roads only paths. It has rained and it is muddy. If we go to a person’s home, Janet calls out and without hesitation goes in. All are happy to see each other and are excited by my visit. I interview and take a picture of them. There is no problem.
I soon became aware that this community is known for its baking, cooking and catering services, and also its poultry and nut grinding. Odd combination. But often if one person is successful in a business, others follow and all are happy. If the village is close to a large city, like Kampala, their village will become known for specific trades and all competing in that trade will benefit from the recognition. It also helps in distribution of goods. Janet for example can have a business that just sells baking goods to bakers in her community.
To me the most enjoyable part is the people, and the members of the Alinyikira Lending Group all are very hard working people. As Janet told me, the hard work helps to make them happy.
Beneath Samoa’s tranquil surface
After tossing out some statistics on the poverty situation in Samoa in my first entry, I think I’m ready for a more personal take on the impact of impact of micro-credit and the overall economic situation in Samoa.
South Pacific Business Development is one of Kiva’s earliest partner microfinance institutions. With an entire staff of just 16 employees (including management), the institution covers over 2,000 active clients, whose loans total over $700,000. SPBD follows the original Grameen Bank model by administering its loans via borrowing groups. With very few exceptions, all of its clients are women.
My first field visit was to accompany Tafauga, one SPBD’s 8 loan officers, to a client group meeting at the Leauvaa village, where I was to take Kiva profile photos for members of a newly-formed borrowing group. As we maneuvered along ever-narrowing roads towards the village center, I glanced outside the passenger window and was strangely transported back to my early childhood. Hazy memories of my brief times spent in the rural Chinese countryside were stirred up as I watched pigs, chickens, and dogs roam free alongside the road. In contrast, the lush vegetation and towering palm trees provided an exotic tropical twist that I’ve never encountered before in my life.
We soon arrived at the meeting, which took place in a large open fale (fah-leh). Fales are the traditional housing units of Samoa, and are common even today among locals and tourists alike. Their lack of walls, external or internal, is designed to maximize the flow of cool breezes in the hot climate, but also neatly reflects the importance of family and community in Samoan culture. Makeshift blinds are used only in times of heavy storms, and wandering dogs and livestock regularly require shooing off during the night. I’m quite glad to be living in a western-style house myself, as it will take nothing short of a demolition crew to take my precious walls from me!
The meeting itself was a total blast. The ladies, most of whom were middle-aged, were extremely welcoming and had great senses of humor. The eldest among them were also the most outgoing, and they were completely unabashed in immediately asking me for my marital status. After confirming that I was single, they would jokingly flirt and titter amongst themselves in Samoan, making many off-color jokes (as Tafauga later told me). Meanwhile, I was running around snapping pictures, a goofy grin on my face, feeling like I was at a fashion shoot. Most of the ladies really seemed to enjoy having their photos taken, and I even had a few request for multiple shots, each one for a different pose.
Since my eye-opening first visit, I have been to several other client group meetings. These visits have been to accompany various loan officers on their actual payment-collection rounds, and I soon realized that my first foray did nothing to prepare me for these utterly grueling outings. Leaving the office usually just after 9am, the loan officers rarely complete their rounds before 4pm. Many meetings are conducted in fales with no chairs, where everyone is expected to sit cross-legged (it is considered rude to point your feet towards the center of the meeting). After a few accumulated hours in this position, I was having difficulty standing back up! It is amazing to watch only 8 officers cover over 2,000 clients around the island on a weekly basis, and I have gained a great amount of respect for their tremendous hard work.
After a couple of weeks of field visits, I am beginning to better grasp the island’s complex socioeconomic condition. Most notably, I was never struck by a sense of overwhelming poverty and destitution in the same way that many of my fellow Kiva Fellows in other countries have described in their blogs. There were no dilapidated slums, no starving infants, and street begging is extremely rare. The strong social support from tightly-knit communities, combined with the extremely fertile island soil and an abundance of livestock, has meant that the vast majority of the population does not experience the severest of hardships, such as starvation or homelessness. The literacy rate is at an astronomical 99.7% (due largely to the support of education by the church) and life expectancy is at 71 years.
Despite the lack of desperation-level poverty, the continuing prevalence of subsidence living reveals several deep underlying issues. The strong sense of community that I described earlier presents a truly double-edged sword. The same support system that takes care of the lazy, disabled, and powerless members of society also means that domestic breadwinners will often have to support large extended families. A system of communal ownership, combined with a lack of rewards for individual effort, can effectively stifle individual initiative and broader economic development. Fa’alavelave, lavish gift-exchange ceremonies that accompany weddings, funerals, and church openings, are great fun to attend, but can drain months’ worth of funds in an instance. At church, families compete against each other to see who can donate the most money, as the amount given by each family is called out and recorded during service. Often, families give more than they can afford in order to maintain their social standing. All these obligations tend to add up quickly, and many families struggle along life without hope of ever gaining financial independence.
Compounding the problem is that, like many other Pacific Island nations, the presence of poverty tends to be hushed up. Before arriving here, I had no idea of the harsh economic conditions. From my impression and conversations with locals and fellow expatriates, unemployment has been rising for quite some time, while the cost of living is steadily creeping up, resulting in more and more families becoming dependent on financial remittances from relatives abroad (total transfers having reached an estimated $57.9 million already in 2002). There has not been much effort from the government, at least from my limited perspective, to combat the problem. Hopefully in time, the proud island nation will realize that its cultural richness and breathtaking natural beauty cannot serve as a substitute for economic self sufficiency.
All of this makes Kiva and SPBD’s efforts all the more important. It has been so encouraging to see the spirited persistence these enterprising ladies as they seek to build a financially-liberated future for themselves and their children. I am truly glad to be part of it all.
The Women of Rabaga
Rabaga is a district of Kampala, Uganda. It rests on the slope of a hill. Within Rabaga and hidden from the street by small store fronts is an area referred to as a slum. Indeed, it may be a slum, but it is not without a strong sense of community: made stronger by the women who belong to the Rabaga Women’s Lending Group. They meet once a week but their spirit permeates their community daily. They are leaders who wish to make a difference in their community. And, they all own businesses within this area.
I went to attend the group meeting with my translator, Herbert. As we entered the district (there is no problem regarding safety, the people are very welcoming), Herbert went to a small shack, perhaps 10 x 15, and entered behind two cooking pots heated by charcoal. A roof of corrugated steel hangs over the entrance. Two women are attending the pots and a number of naked babies wander and play in front. Behind the pots is a small opening thru which Herbert disappeared. I, loitering only briefly to say my hello’s, did not notice his quick disappearance. In an instant, he was gone. When I noticed there was a group behind the opening, I went in.
Herbert was already greeting the seated women. Inside there were two tables about the size of picnic tables. Against the wall, facing the room, sat the council of five women. In the middle was the Credit Officer. All the women sat very closely together, as the room was small. They were very much as one, and the business of the day was well underway. On the tables each person had a lending booklet to keep tabs of their account. In total there were 18 women in the small shack.
As mentioned, Herbert was addressing the women as I entered. He was in the back facing the council leaders. They all were speaking in Luganda, but many English words sprinkled the conversation, though I could not make out anything until Herbert said “Douglas”. That must be my cue. (They call be Douglas because when I arrived in Uganda, I introduced myself as Doug but they found that strange. So, I tried Douglas and have had no problem sense.)
I rose and thanked them for allowing me to observe, told them about why I was there: “I represent an organization that helps to connect lenders to people who have businesses like yourselves”. Herbert stopped me often, to interpret. “Hmm. Hmm” the women would comment. They were very focused. I continued. “I am very pleased to be with you” “Hmm. Hmm”, they replied. A few more pleasantries followed by hmm, hmms and I sat down. The meeting went on.
At the end of the meeting, Herbert said that now we will go and visit their businesses. With this we entered the heart of the district. Rabaga doesn’t so much embrace you as it does engulf you. Almost immediately you become “lost” as you wind and turn along narrow paths. Huts of brick, adobe, wood and corrugated steel are tightly woven together. At every turn people are standing by cooking pots fueled by charcoal, digging trenches or building structures. Just as quickly as you see them you make another turn and they are gone.
For the next 4-5 hours, we walked and visited. Most of the women in group went along quite interested in what was happening. When we would enter a hut, only large enough for 2-3 people, the others stayed outside, occasionally looking in. They did not discuss a lot among themselves, for they were intent on what was happening. This was a business meeting and they treated it as such.
The women had no problem answering all of my questions: how old are you, are you single, married, widowed (many are widowed, due to AID’s), how many children do you care for, (often 6-10: 3 to 6 of their own and almost always an additional 2-4 of brothers and sisters who have died). How large was your loan ( these loans are in the range of $175.00), how do you plan to use the loan, what are your dreams for the future (with this they always smile, for they do have dreams) often it is to own their own home (10 x 10 hut) and they want their children to go to school with uniforms. It is all very business like and they treat the process with a high degree of respect.
It is quite a rewarding experience to interview these women on sucn a candid level. It should be noted that only a few thought they might like to one day leave this area of Rabaga. This is their home, where they raise their children and have their friends. They do not see themselves anywhere else, only to improve their lives in Rabaga. Rabaga is a strong united community due in part because of these determined women.
Connecting
Eleven years ago, when I first moved into the neighborhood where I now live, I held a block party. I wanted to meet my neighbors – didn’t want to drive home, politely nod at folks I hadn’t met, but lived next door.
So, I had a block party. It worked. In fact, for the past ten years, it’s rotated from house to house. But, after the seventh year it started to get a little long in the tooth. The desire to “connect” was waning.
I miss the connection. Not just in the neighborhood, but in other ways, too. Too much pop culture, not enough real culture. So, I’ve been looking. People to people stuff.
Then about eight weeks ago, my son said I should check out the Kiva site. Something made sense – in a simple way. I was particularly taken by the lenders. Like me, they seemed to be looking – to connect. Person to person. Neighbor to neighbor.
So here I am, on B.A. Flight 0065 to Entebbe via Heathrow. A Kiva Fellow volunteering to serve in Kampala Uganda.
The world has gotten a lot smaller since I was born 57 years ago. Virtual worlds easily meet real worlds. Kiva is a conduit, where people connect to people. So, for the next four months, I’m just going to “journey” across the street to visit my neighbors. I invite you to join me.
Doug
First post from Samoa
Talofa! I can hardly believe that I am writing this from Samoa, the “Treasured Islands of the South Pacific”. I hope you will bear with me over the next 13 weeks as I share my experiences of working at the South Pacific Business Development (SPBD), Kiva’s partner MFI on the island.
Departing Los Angeles on a direct red-eye to Samoa, I arrived in the wee hours of the morning, weary and excited. The humid island air and a light rain were the first things to greet me as I stepped off the plane. I was later informed that my arrival coincided with the first signs of precipitation in several weeks. Since then, not a day goes by without at least the falling of a light shower. Fortunately, the onset of rain is considered an auspicious event, saving my journey from an ominous start.
You might be wondering if island life is all that it’s cracked up to be. Well, in a lot of ways, it truly is. The people are incredibly friendly and welcoming, the pace of life is nice and slow, and the beaches are just gorgeous. However, Samoa is far from a tropical paradise. Poverty on the island is real and apparent. According to the UN, Samoa is one of the 49 least developed countries in the world. Most of SPBD’s clients, before their first loan, lived on less than $2 USD per day, and 48% of Samoan families were assessed to be living below the poverty line. The pacific islands tend to be left out of the discussion when people talk about world poverty, but the islands’ struggles are very real.
The presence of religion on the island really made an immediate impression on me. I couldn’t help but notice the number of ornate churches, dwarfing all other nearby structures, populating almost every corner of every village throughout the island. Even at the airport, advertisements for local churches appear next to ones for mobile phones. Perhaps less traditional faiths are starting to make inroads as well, as I had to rub my eyes in disbelief when a large box marked with Scientology literature rolled past me on the conveyor belt during baggage claim.
Being of Chinese heritage myself, I was very surprised by the noticeable Chinese presence in Samoa. Throughout the streets of Apia (the capital and commercial center of Samoa), many restaurants have shops have alternate signs written in unmistakable Chinese characters. I was told that Chinese migrant workers arrived en masse before the First World War, during colonial rule (not sure if it was German or British then). Many stayed behind, started families, and have built some of the most successful local restaurants and trading businesses around. I tested out a couple of the local Chinese restaurants, and while it didn’t exactly taste like home (by which I mean Chinatown of course), it’s never a bad thing to have quick access to some fried rice!
Well, that’s it for introductions and first impressions. Until next time, Tofa Soifua!
