Posts filed under 'KF3 (Kiva Fellows 3rd Class)'
Have I been here too long?!
A few years ago I was told a story of how to tell a first, second, and third time missionary. If you are drinking a glass of lemonade, and a fly lands in it, a first time missionary will ask for a new glass of lemonade. A second-timer will simply remove the fly, but continue to drink the lemonade. And a third-timer will look at the fly, and without interruption, drink the lemonade, fly and all, giving thanks for the extra nutrition! Last week I left Peru and moved on to Guatemala to begin my fifth month as a Kiva Fellow. Sitting down to a delicious lunch of tortillas, chicken, and rice, I reached for my glass to take a much-needed drink. After the first sip, I looked in the glass and noticed several dozen tiny ants floating on top of the could-be-so-refreshing pink beverage. I pondered for a moment, having already swallowed that first sip, and set the glass down, reflecting on this story I had once been told. I wasn’t about to ask for a new glass, as the others seated around me seemed to have the same added ‘nutrition’ in their glasses, so I figured it must be standard around here. I thought of scooping them out, but it wasn’t just a single fly, there were dozens of these little creatures, and I didn’t want to be rude. So… I acknowledged that I’d already surely downed a few of them in my first sip, and had noticed nothing– so far I was still alive and well… what harm could the rest of them do?! It would just be like eating cow-stomach soup in Peru—just close your eyes and hold on to the fact that it’s not going to kill you. And after all that hot salsa, I was just so thirsty! So, what could be done? I picked up my glass, and brought it to my lips, and began to drink my ant-seasoned lemonade. As I did this, by the grace of something almighty, my hostess got up and left the table, leaving me with the only other gringa around. I took the opportunity to inquire about the ants, (she’s lived here for some time and would know if it was normal) and to my great relief, it’s not normal, and she swiped the glass away and said ‘don’t drink that!’, and my taste buds breathed sighs of gratitude. A few minutes later all pink beverages were off the table, with fresh cups of ant-free coffee in their place. While I was quite relieved to not have to ingest more ants than necessary, I couldn’t help but smile with a small amount of pride that I’m now okay with doing so if the situation requires!
1 comment 14 February 2008
One Day in the Life of a Microfinance Branch Manager
Nabwire Carolyn, Manager of BRAC Uganda’s Kalerwe Branch, awakens at 5:30 each work day. A devoutly religious person, she spends the first half hour of each day in prayer. Next she prepares her two children for the day. Joshua, age 4, attends pre-school and Ester, age 2, goes to day care. Carolyn prepares breakfast for the children and her husband, Joseph, who is a computer programmer and web designer. At 6:30 Joseph departs in the family car to drop the children off at school on his way to work.
Carolyn walks to the Kalerwe Branch. BRAC requires branch managers and credit officers to live within the boundaries of their branch. Given the overburdened and unreliable public transportation system in Kampala, and the fact that the BRAC work day begins precisely at 7:00 am, this is a wise policy.
On this day, Carolyn was met at the branch office by five credit officers and Mr. Emma, the branch support staff. Olive, Demali, Annette and Jackie are micro-finance C.O.’s. Ms. Raymond is a newly hired credit officer assigned to launch an individual loan program at the branch.
The Kalerwe branch recently celebrated its one year anniversary. Carolyn, Annette, and Jackie have been there since the first day.
Carolyn related to me the difficulty of opening a new microfinance branch in Kalerwe. There are about ten different microfinance institutions operating within her branch boundaries, which extend out about a three mile radius from the branch office.
BRAC follows the same procedure whenever a new branch is opened. The first step is to conduct a survey of every household in the area. Carolyn and her credit officers expanded concentrically from the office in ¼ mile increments, not missing a single residence.
The BRAC survey asks basic questions of residents to determine their relative wealth compared to their neighbors.
At the end of the day, Carolyn took her survey results to the LC1, the local elected official who oversees most activity in the area. The two of them went through the surveys and the LC1 used a red pen to check off the lowest 50% of residents in terms of wealth and income. Anyone with an existing loan from another Microfinance Institution was eliminated from consideration.
The households with the red checkmarks were BRAC’s initial target customers. Carolyn and her staff went back to those homes to invite the female head of household to an informational meeting. Their initial greetings were not always positive. Many MFI’s have operated in this area, promising much and delivering little. The BRAC staff was able to overcome much of that distrust and skepticism at the informational meetings.
Groups were formed consisting of four to five subgroups of five members each. The sub-group members were friends and neighbors who were required to guarantee each other’s loan repayment.
When I asked Carolyn about her best day as a BRAC Manager, she said it was the day she disbursed her first loan, just six weeks after opening the branch.
After one year, the Kalerwe branch is nearing full capacity. The maximum number of members served by a BRAC branch with 4 microfinance credit officers, assuming a maximum of 30 members per group and three group meetings a day for 5 days, is 1,800 members. The current membership roll at Kalerwe stands at approximately 1,400.
When I asked Carolyn about her worst day at work, she told me about the time it flooded and she had to slog through mud and flood water to reach her group meeting, only to stand on a table once she arrived.
The part of the job Carolyn enjoys the most is attending group meetings. Like snowflakes, no two meetings are the exactly the same. She finds them interesting and usually amusing. If she is having a bad day, she says she forgets her troubles at a group meeting.
Carolyn believes in BRAC. When I asked her what makes BRAC different from the other Microfinance Institutions operating in her territory, she replied;
1. BRAC’s interest rate is lower.
2. They do not ask for collateral.
3. They keep overhead down to about 10%, loaning the remaining 90% to poor borrowers.
4. They do not make members feel inferior. Members interact freely with a respectful staff.
5. The objective is poverty reduction and empowering women, not profit.
6. They loan money to poor women who have been denied credit by other MFI’s.
7. At meetings all members sit on the ground on mats in a horseshoe or circular pattern, which she believes is unique and indicative of BRAC’s spirit of equality and group dynamics.
One of Carolyn’s primary duties is to prevent loan fraud. Every afternoon and between morning meetings, she personally interviews loan applicants at home and at their place of business. On the home visit, Carolyn listens for comments from neighbors and assesses the applicant’s living conditions. She confirms the size of the family and the marital status of the applicant. Not only is she there to approve or deny the loan, she also has to determine an appropriate loan amount. Loaning too much money places an unnecessary strain on the borrower and creates a temptation to use excess money for personal purposes.
At the applicant’s place of business, Carolyn fills out a loan appraisal form as she critically examines the business. She asks questions, examines inventory, and tests equipment to confirm it operates.
Another valuable source of information is feedback from the members of the borrowing group, especially her sub-group of four loan guarantors. Although these women might be reluctant to speak publically against a loan application, they often approach Carolyn or her Credit Officers in private with their concerns.
Finally, the applicant’s credit officer conducts a separate but identical loan assessment.
After conferring with her C.O., Carolyn signs a loan approval which is sent to her Area Manager and Country Office for review. In one year and approximately 1,400 loans, the Kalerwe branch has not had a single uncollected loan.
Another of Carolyn’s major responsibilities is to train and develop her credit officers. Most BRAC employees are green; joining the company with no previous microfinance experience. Carolyn is proud that several of her C.O.’s have been promoted since the branch opened.
Carolyn attends three group meetings each morning. Her role is to observe and double check the C.O.’s work. She randomly samples five pass books against the computerized collection sheet to confirm the C.O’s entries. She also evaluates the C.O.’s conduct of the meeting, including promptness, attendance, and meeting content.
Recently, BRAC Uganda partnered with Kiva.org to raise 0% interest funds for BRAC. The Kiva model is based on “peer to peer” lending from individuals in developed countries to poor borrowers in developing countries. The model requires a digital picture of the borrower as well as a written profile of the borrower and the business purpose of the loan.
Branch Managers have responsibility for collecting this information. Carolyn has quickly become an expert using a digital camera at group meetings.
The manager and C.O.’s arrive back at the branch at about noon. They spend the next hour counting and reconciling loan repayments from the morning meetings against the computerized collection sheets.
At 1:00 pm disbursements begin. All members whose loans have been approved are scheduled for a loan disbursement appointment. The women are called into the office one at a time from a waiting room. After the member signs loan documents, Carolyn confirms her identity, signs the documents releasing the money, and records the loan in the member’s pass book. The credit officers then disburse the loan amount from funds collected that day.
After lunch, Carolyn typically conducts loan due diligence, visiting homes and businesses of prospective borrowers.
The BRAC business day ends at 4 pm. Before leaving the branch Carolyn must enter all collections and disbursements into BRAC’s proprietary RADAR program on the office computer. Next, she prints computerized collection sheets for the group meetings scheduled the following day. Once that task is complete, she returns home to her family, fully prepared for a fast start at 7:00 am the next day.
4 comments 21 January 2008
Regina
How does a 48 year old widow in Uganda with no job, no savings, very little education, and no business training provide for
eleven orphans, ranging in age from 9 to 17?
One answer is to take out a US $180 micro-loan from BRAC Uganda and work very hard to establish and operate two successful small businesses.
The story of how Bayiyana Regina came to be the sole supporter of eleven orphans is both a tragic commentary on life and death in Uganda and an inspirational tale of sacrifice and perseverance in the face of overwhelming adversity.
Regina and her husband had eleven children. They lived a modest but relatively secure life based on his salary as a primary school teacher. Then in 1987 her husband developed a “headache that lasted three days, and he died”, according to Regina. She was left with no savings, no pension and only a small, one room mud brick home located in a swampy flood plain in Bwaise, Uganda, a northern suburb of Kampala, the capital city.
Since then, seven of her eleven children have died; two from AIDS and the remaining five “fell sick” from unspecified illnesses. Of the surviving children, one is “missing”, two are “just around”, and one is a student at Makerere University, Uganda’s leading university.
The eleven orphans in Regina’s care are all family members. Some are her grandchildren, where both parents died of AIDS, and some are the orphaned grandchildren of her deceased brother. She looks after seven boys and four girls.
When I asked Regina about the worst day in her life, she paused and replied it was the day her brother went off to work and never returned. He died on the job. Regina counted on her brother. He lived nearby in a small, half-finished two room home. He and Regina relied on each other for mutual support. The day he died, Regina knew she would provide for his orphans as well as her own.
Regina’s greatest hope in life is that her son will graduate from university and get a good paying job to help support the children. Until then, she works extra long hours to contribute to his tuition. When school is not in session he returns home to work hard like his mother, performing casual labor such as delivering water and doing other peoples’ laundry.
Regina is a very serious person. As I interviewed her following her weekly BRAC group meeting she seldom smiled and never laughed. When I asked her what she does for enjoyment, she replied she “sleeps”.
All this changed as we walked down the soggy lane approaching her modest house. Her orphans ran to be at her side. The first to arrive was Marvin, a young boy who was injured in a fire. He has burns on his arms and legs and about half of his left foot is missing. None of that seems to bother Marvin. He wore a constant smile on his face and he was the first to reach his grandmother. She handed him her bag, which he proudly carried for her. I sensed Marvin occupies a special place in Regina’s heart.
As the children grouped around us, Regina’s stoic composure softened. She smiled and hugged her orphans. They obviously worship her and she relishes their company and devotion.
Regina’s microfinance group was formed less than a year ago. It consists of five sub-groups containing five members each. At their first meeting, the 25 group members elected Regina as their group leader for a two year term.
Regina’s primary business is selling roasted chicken. She buys live chickens during the day, kills and cleans them, and then roasts the birds in a charcoal fueled oven and sells them on the covered sidewalk in the commercial center of Bwaise. She starts selling roasted chicken at about 6 pm. Her first customers are commuters returning home from work. Her next customers are revelers leaving bars in the area. Regina stays on the job until the last roasted chicken is sold, sometime well after midnight.
She shops hard during the day to locate plump birds, paying between 4,000-4,500 shillings each. After roasting and cutting the chickens into pieces, she is able to sell one chicken for 5,900 shillings. She sells six chickens a day Monday-Thursday and seven chickens each day on Friday-Sunday. Her average weekly gross profit from selling roasted chickens is 75,000 shillings, before subtracting fixed costs such as charcoal fuel. This is approximately US $45.50 per week.
One of the threats to Regina’s business is not being able to obtain a reliable daily supply of live chickens. At certain times of the year, especially around holidays, chickens are in short supply.
To even out her cash flow and to guarantee a minimum income, Regina opened a second business of selling fresh water from a water company tap located on her property. She borrowed 300,000 shillings (about US $ 180) from BRAC. With the proceeds of her loan she was able to have the water tap installed as well as replenish working capital in her chicken roasting business. Regina estimates she generates 6,000-10,000 shillings ($3.60-$6.00) profit per week selling clean water to neighbors who do not have a water tap.
The profit from her water business is small but very important. With responsibility for feeding and caring for eleven orphans, earning cash money every day is essential. If the chicken roasting business fails to meet her family needs, she can count on cash income from the water tap.
The daily diet in Regina’s home consists primarily of starches such as posho (made from corn flour), matoke (banana based), potatoes, and cassava. The children wear second hand clothing purchased at Kampala’s sprawling St. Balikuddembe market for 2,000 to 5,000 shillings ($1.20-$3.00).
Some of the orphans sleep with Regina in her one room house. The balance sleep in one room of her brother’s former home, under the supervision of Stephen, an extremely polite teenage grandson who is Regina’s “right hand man” in the family.
Regina’s greatest challenge is paying school fees for the children. Uganda has universal primary education which theoretically provides free schooling for children from Primary 1 through Primary 7 grades. It doesn’t really work out that way. First, additional fees such as uniform fees, book fees, and teacher’s transportation fees are often imposed at public schools. Second, public primary schools are not always available. In Regina’s parish there is only one public primary school and 10 private schools. Finally, the quality of public school education is widely perceived to be sub-standard. The majority of students in the Kampala area attend private schools.
One private school a short distance from Regina’s home charges about 25,000 shillings ($15) per term for a primary level student. Tuition is higher for secondary grades. There are three terms per year.
With a monthly family income of only about $65, it is easy to see how school fees take a large percentage of her household budget.
Regina is a determined woman. She has never been late on a weekly loan payment. She spoke to her credit officer and branch manager about taking out a larger loan when the first loan is paid off. With the additional capital she could raise up a small portion of her swampy land to build a poultry house. Rearing her own chickens will improve profitability by lowering her cost of goods as well as insuring a supply of birds year round.
She has also considered borrowing money to finish the second room of her brother’s house and renting it out. She figures the rental income will repay the loan and eventually contribute to family income.
When I asked Regina what would happen to the children if she was not there, she looked at me through sad eyes and said they would be on the street.
As I bid good bye, I was filled with profound respect and admiration for this saintly grandmother. Impulsively, I bent down to kiss her on the cheek. The children howled in delight and shock at the sight of a tall blond stranger kissing their grandmother in public.
The meaning of my kiss was to let her know that she is not alone. She has the respect of her grandchildren, her neighbors, her peers in the BRAC group, her BRAC credit officer, her BRAC branch manager, the social lenders at Kiva.org who supply funds to BRAC, and at least one American businessman who stands in awe of her unselfish determination.
4 comments 19 January 2008
Panadol, Anyone?
It would seem that time with Kiva is flying by when I think about my remaining 4½ months left here in East Africa. Almost 4 down, almost 4 more to go. I have been receiving updates from friends in Chicago about their frigid weather and feel grateful even for Tanzania’s thick humidity. I prefer sweating to shivering any day. The bright red flowers on the trees are so beautiful here, and passing by moneys playing by the side of the road on my way to work makes me smile.
I am now helping out at two MFIs– Tujijenge Tanzania and BRAC Tanzania, which have distinct and contrasting personalities when it comes to operation. BRAC, where I’ve been working part-time for the last month, is the largest NGO in the world– I am told. BRAC originated in Bangladesh, and although it only came to Tanzania in 2006, it already has 40+ branch offices around the country. While there are 14 branch offices in Dar es Salaam alone, my work mostly consists of posting business profiles on the internet and occasionally training branch managers on the interviewing process. Besides learning about the extensive work of this well-established NGO, my favorite thing about BRAC is being able to practice the Bengali I had learned in 2006 while living for 6 months in Kolkata, India.
Tujijenge, on the other hand, is small, and for this reason, feels personal (for an institution that is). The first few months of working there, I enjoyed talking with the clients and interviewing them for the Kiva business profiles. Also, the Tujijenge staff are so wonderful and have allowed me a glimpse of the beauty of Tanzanian culture.
One thing that comes to mind was the discovery of what went into their weekly newsletters regarding my presence as a westerner at their office. Over the past 2-3 months, I’ve become friends with the marketing staff person, Ann, who writes the weekly newsletters. Not long ago, I caught her laughing at something she was reading on her laptop and asked what was so funny. In response, she asked me if I had read the last October newsletter written the week I had just begun working at their office. Since the newsletters are mostly in Swahili, and thus the answer was obvious, she proceeded to tell me what she had written. Apparently it had been a difficult week for the head accountant, Mariam, whose office I had been using to do my work (since then, I have moved to Ann’s office due to internet access). During this first week with Tujijenge, there was also another non-Swahili speaker named Sam in Mariam’s office, who had been brought from Uganda to work on the computer software. As a result, the newsletter went something like this:
Staff member Kiloko: ‘Mariam, why are you looking so ill this week?’
Head accountant: ‘I have been taking Panadol everyday this week (Panadol is one of Tanzania’s leading Tylenol’s) . I turn to one side and say, “Yes, Sam, the computer is…” and I turn to the other and say “Hello, Dana, how are…?”’
Completely confused about why this was funny, I probed Ann with questions. I finally came to understand that taking Panadol is a joke among Swahili-speakers for when they are required to speak English and don’t feel comfortable doing so.
The interesting thing I’ve found here in Dar es Salaam is that using English is rarely required for many Tanzanians, even at the work place. While their initial interview for a job is often conducted in English, it is common for the rest of the job to be done purely in Swahili. The same is true at Tujijenge, where the staff speak Swahili to each other and to their clients. It is only for visitors like me that they must remember the English they were taught from their schooling days.
Ann told me that the Panadol joke was well known around Tanzania, and that even the previous day, a visitor had used it when visiting the office. Ann had invited him to join her and me in her office, but he refused saying that if he did, he would first have to go out and buy a big tub of Panadol. Previously oblivious to this humor, for which I now realize I am often a main cause, I have since then decided to start taking advantage of their clever Panadol joke. One day, while addressing all of the loan officers about Kiva information, I told them that if they had any questions, they could approach me anytime. I then added that if they preferred, they could ask the questions to my partner/translator instead, which might save them from first having to go out and buying Panadol. They all laughed and I felt a strand closer to understanding their culture.
Add comment 17 January 2008
Celia
As a Kiva Fellow you realize the journals you write quickly become lost in the depths of hundreds of pages, full of testimonials begging to be read. I wanted to share one story I’ve found particularly moving, and hope you will, too.
An excerpt from a journal from Ayacucho, Peru:
“Celia has faced many difficulties in her life- her husband left her 21 years ago to raise 11 children on her own. She has lost three of those children, one just last year, and of the remaining children left in her care, three of them are blind due to a hereditary illness. While a challenge anywhere, the steep and unsteady dirt road that leads to Ayacucho’s cobblestone streets full of unforgiving traffic poses extra challenges for her blind children, and Celia dedicates herself daily to providing for all her children, and is saving now to buy new and sturdier canes that will enable them to move about with more ease and safety.
As if Celia hadn’t faced enough in her life, an earthquake hit Peru a few months ago, and much of Celia’s home was destroyed. Fortunately, her store, which is attached to her home, was not affected and she has been able to continue with her business as usual, which is more important than ever with the new expense of rebuilding her home.
Celia has an amazing and inspiring way of accepting the hardships in her life. She smiles and says ‘asi es la vida’- that’s life- and all we can do is to pick up and keep on going. While describing the earthquake, Celia said everything just kept shaking, and because they live on a hill, everything from houses above them fell on their house.
After describing the fear from the earthquake, she asks if she can show me something, and takes me out back of her home, where the firewood she sells is stacked, and I wonder if it’s this she wants me to see. But she walks me over to a small garden where herbs and vegetables are growing. Celia looks at me with eyes of determination and hope, and tells me that this is where her kitchen stood before the earthquake. I am amazed at her perseverance and will to continue, and her ability to take the destructive ruins from a tragedy and create life in a beautiful garden.”
I remember as a child (and still, today) being fascinated by grass growing from cracks in the sidewalk. How could life spring from something so barren? Celia has done the same, and once again, I am fascinated. Well into her seventies, with every story she shares she somehow radiates sunshine from her eyes with the innocence of a child, and the collective wisdom of generations long ago. She has learned the secret of living peacefully amidst a chaotic and broken society, doing more than her part to leave the world more beautiful than she found it.
2 comments 14 January 2008
Sad Goodbyes
I can’t believe my work here is almost coming to an end! It feels like just yesterday (or a couple days ago) that I was getting off the plane in Maputo – uncertain, nervous, and excited as to what this entire experience would be like. I still remember flipping over and over (and over) again through my copy of all of FDM´s Kiva clients, wondering what it would be like to meet them face to face. In fact, I looked at those pictures so many times that every time I met a client, I could literally see their picture and their description in my mind.

I met a client the other day who I found truly amazing. Not only was she incredibly warm, inviting, and generous, but I have absolutely NO idea how she does what she does everyday. She teaches primary school in the mornings, runs her business as a very successful seamstress in the afternoons (she has clients that leave orders with her from all across Mozambique), and travels to the capital of Maputo every night to take classes so she can start teaching secondary school. Yet, what I admired most about her was what she calls her most cherished and long held dream, hoping one day to open her own primary school to serve the local impoverished children. Education, she tells me, is the most important component to developing the area and creating a stronger Mozambique, and she dreams of a better future for her children and the next generations. She already has the course materials prepared, and has a step by step plan to realize her goal. As she explains, she first hopes to open the school at her home early next year until she has saved enough to purchase an old, abandoned home nearby to set up a proper school there. She projects that she will be able to begin enrolling students in January and hopes to open the school by the end of that month! Additionally, her husband is a disabled war veteran and she currently supports her children entirely with the profits from her business and current salary as a teacher. Needless to say, the women here never cease to amaze me, and I’ll miss having the opportunity to meet women like her everyday when I go home in a couple weeks.
At the same time, some of the most telling and moving experiences have come from meeting clients of FDM who are not on the Kiva website (for everyone one Kiva client, I usually accompany the loan officer when they visited two others for FDM). There was one client in particular who is no longer receiving loans from FDM because she has put her business on hold, but the promotora wanted to stop by and visit nonetheless. She has been sick for quite a while now, almost six months, and when she went to the local clinic (the one and only time) they simply told her that it was malaria and sent her back home. While she received some general form of treatment, she her health has been getting worse and she was forced to stop her business selling charcoal and can no longer pay for loans. Her promotora tells me that there are days that she will stop by and the client can’t even get out of bed, and while she keeps telling her to go the clinic and take an HIV test, her client has yet to take her advice – not because of the cost but because she’s too frightened to go. We sit down to talk for an hour or so as the loan officer reminds her again to go to the hospital, seek the tests and the treatments she needs if not for herself, but for her son who has no one else if something were to happen to her. It truly touched me to see how much the loan officer cared, how much she wanted her old client to get better and see her healthy, happy, and doing well. Her client finally tells her that she will go next week, her usual answer, and as we walk back to the main road to catch our next bus to take us to our next client, I’m left to wonder what will happen to her and her young son if she doesn’t get better.

This entire experience has left me irreversibly changed and the lessons I´ve learned I will carry with me the rest of my life. Sure there are a couple moments I would rather forget. For example, I have helped push chapas out of ditches, shared the back of trucks with goats and other various livestock, and waded through puddles of mud (and trash) 10 inches deep, but I would trade any of these experiences for anything. The women I´ve met her have inspired me to be a stronger person (literally – as Roslyn describes, women three times my age have skipped past me balancing buckets of water or multiple sacks of potatoes on their heads) as well as reassess my understanding of what it means to be successful and what it takes to be happy. I can honestly say that all the clients I have met have been nothing but gracious, warm, and have welcomed me into their homes like members of their own family. Without a second thought, they share much cherished information not only about their businesses, but about their children, their hardships, and their dreams for the future. During our talks, one of the best moments usually comes at the end – when I take their picture. Some simply smile, some strike a well practiced pose, some run into their homes first to change and fix their hair, and other gather their children and spouses to make it a family shot. After, I always show them the picture I’ve taken on my digital camera, and every single time, without fail, they´re positively beaming. I tell them that the picture is beautiful, and they laugh and can´t help but agree.
What will I miss most? Without out a doubt, I will miss being able to wake up every morning knowing that I will meet people that day who I will say goodbye to ever-so-slightly, but forever changed. I will miss working with the promotoras who have taught me what it means to work hard and live a life doing something you love to do. Not to mention the fact that FDM is simply an amazing organization. I just now realize that I’ve have yet to mention FDM´s administrative head, Ana Maria, who will always my role model, the person I will strive to emulate – ceaselessly diligent, intelligent, and devoted to the organization (and the workers and clients here at FDM respect and adore her). She is currently spearheading innovative projects to further serve FDM’s clients which include agricultural initiatives where they will begin selling plots of cultivated land next year for clients to run their own farms as well as plans to begin training rural clients in cattle raising. I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity to work with all three of FDM´s different offices, and have every intention of returning to Mozambique one day to visit and maybe even work them again.
I was told before I left that when the time would come to leave, I would want to say and I can honestly say that that person was right. I feel like there’s so much more to learn, so many more things to experience, more inspiring people to meet, and so much more I could do, but sadly I’ve been postponing school and my classes long enough.
It’s been an incredible, strange, difficult, exhilarating, and life-changing experience and I want to thank Kiva and Kiva´s wonderful lenders for having given me the opportunity to take this adventure.
Also, I have no idea if they will ever read this, but time to give a shout-out to all the workers of FDM that have made this experience so incredible – Ana Maria, Leopoldina, Esmeralda, Don, Bridgette, Margarida, Sandra, Rosalina, Suzette, Minarsanda, Ricardina, Edineria, Dercia, Jamie, Francisco, Ricardo, Arcenia, Madalena, Lidia, Rosa, Nelizarda, Elina, Ermelinda, Arcenia, Benevenita, Irenia, Simoes, Ilda, Ana, Zelia, Brito, Roda, Deocleciana, Esmeralda, Eulalia, Ana, Marta, Adelso, Carmelia, and Manuela! I will miss you all so much, and thank you.
Finally, while this will be my last blog from Mozambique, inspired by Drew Kinder´s wonderful write-up on Sam, I will be doing the same by giving you all a glimpse into the history of Fundo de Desenvolvimento da Mulher and their amazing Executive Director, Ana Maria. I regret to say I don´t have the amazing specifics that Drew provided in his own blog, but I will try my best to do FDM and Ana Maria justice and reveal a little more of what makes FDM such a powerful organization.
1 comment 15 December 2007
What I learned
It was 3 months ago that I stepped off the plane and into the tropical Samoan rain. It seems those same storm clouds have gathered on my last day on the island to see me off. Over the course of my stay, I’d like to think that I learned a few of things.
I’ve learned of the incredible dedication and hard-work it takes for the staff of a small MFI like SPBD to run its operations.
I’ve learned that despite their demanding daily schedules, the SPBD staff rarely shows signs of stress or frustration. I think I’ll have a better chance of mastering the Samoan language in my remaining hours here than encountering a similar work environment back in North America.
I’ve learned that I have yet to scratch the surface of understanding the complex Pacific way of life. The faa Samoa is a riddle, wrapped in a conundrum, wrapped in taro leaves.
I’ve learned how to snorkel, how to change a tire, and how to subsist on an alternating diet of corned beef and Yellowfin tuna. I’m not yet sure how useful that last bit will prove to be.
I’ve learned that, despite not having any international volunteering experience prior to this, I was able to survive for three months in a country many of my friends have never heard of before.
I’ve learned to appreciate how lucky I am to not have to worry about running water or working electricity. One of the great perks of travel is that it often provides a measure of perspective on your own life.
And finally, I’ve learned that that the loans made through Kiva are helping the proud women of Samoa to take advantage of their talents and resourcefulness. It’s been a real honour to have helped out in any way.
Tofa Soifua
Add comment 14 December 2007


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