Kiva Fellows from KF16 take on Africa!

Where might you find muzungu hunting? Where do Kenya’s elite runners hail from? And what do most borrowers in Burkina Faso use their business profits for? Kiva Fellows from KF16 bring you a unique perspective from the diverse and vast continent of Africa! We patched together an overview of each of our placement countries that includes: basic socioeconomic stats, common stereotypes (and to what extent they are true or false), greatest challenges, most common loan products at our respective field partners, and the  borrowers’ most common use of their profits.  This first post of a two-part series focuses on Kenya, Tanzania, and Burkina Faso. We hope our summaries give you a new perspective on the continent and its distinct countries that we’ve been fortunate to explore during the Kiva fellowship!

Claire Markham & Daniel Jung, Kenya

A SMEP borrower in Maua, Kenya selling beans and rice.

1. Basic country stats

% Living Below Poverty Line: 45.9% as of 2005 according to the World Bank

GDP per capita: GNI per capita as of 2010: US$790 according to the World Bank

% Women in the Workforce: Data unavailable.

% Labour participation rate for females aged 15+: 76% according to the World Bank

% Labour participation rate for males aged 15+: 88% according to the World Bank

2. Most common stereotype about Kenya?
A common stereotype is that Kenyans are excellent runners. To some extent, this is true. Of the 75 medals Kenya has won in the Olympics over time, 68 of these medals have been from athletics events.  Additionally, Kenyans have won over 70 marathon races worldwide this year. That being said, it would be inaccurate to stereotype all Kenyans as fast runners – in fact, 75% of Kenya’s elite runners come from one tribe, the Kalenjins. Some of the best runners also come from higher altitude areas of the country which contributes to their running performance.

3. Greatest challenge
The most significant recent challenge in Kenya has been “the worst drought in 60 years” resulting in enormous food shortages. Compounding the devastation caused by the most recent drought was another major challenge in Kenya, “corruption among the authorities meant to be helping the people.”

Despite these difficulties, microfinance institutions and its customers are making efforts to alleviate some of the damage of future droughts through the use of loans for water tanks and irrigation equipment. This will help to ensure that in future dry periods, there is more water to use for agricultural purposes to reduce the degree of food shortages.

4. Most common loan product at field partner, SMEP
Though SMEP offers a variety of loan products, including loans to finance businesses, green products, water products, and school fees, the most popular loan product by far is individual business loans.

5. Clients’ most common use of profits
At SMEP, there are an exceedingly large number of customers who use their loan to add stock to their retail shop where they sell cereal, fruit, flour, sugar, maize, among other items.

Lauren Barra, Tanzania

 1. Basic country stats
% Living Below Poverty Line: 36% (CIA World Factbook)

Average Annual Income: $723 (kiva.org)
% Women in the Workforce: 89% - the highest in the world! 

2. Most common stereotype about Tanzania
Before I left Mombasa, my Kenyan co-workers gave me the low-down. “Tanzanians are lazy and they speak terrible English.” Yes, the East African work ethic in general is very different from the maniac “money never sleeps” energy in NYC. Does work get accomplished at the same pace I’m used to back home? No. But I find my Tanzanian co-workers to be just as hard-working as any in Kenya and even more dedicated than many in the States. Tujijenge employees take pride in their work and will stay as late as needed to get the job done right.

As for the English? Let’s just say my Swahili is rapidly improving…

3. Greatest challenge
Muzungu hunting.

My first week in Tanzania, my FSS and I had an unfortunate run in with immigration. Three immigration officers came to my MFI, claiming they were performing security checks for Al-Shabaab. Instead, they made a B line for the two muzungus, demanded to see our passports and questioned the validity of our visas. They refused to believe I was here as a volunteer, insisting I needed to pay $200 for a Tanzania work visa. Same with my FSS – although he’s based in Nairobi and marked “business trip” on his Tanzania entry form, they threatened to take us downtown.

We considered calling the embassy – our visas were 100% legit and these guys were just looking for a bribe. Management took them into a separate room and I hear the conversation went something like this, “Maybe their visas are in order, maybe not. But it’s Friday afternoon and we can detain them over the weekend until the embassy sorts this out on Monday.” Spend the weekend in a Tanzanian jail? No thanks, rafiki.

Immigration left shortly thereafter and we haven’t heard from them since. Supposedly $400 greased their dirty palms on the way out the door. I’ll never know for sure, but that’s one welcome party I’ll never forget.

4. Most common loan product at field partner, Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd.

Group business loans. These small businesses range from food vendors and hair salons to selling chickens and charcoal.

5. Clients’ most common use of profits
School fees. Although children attend primary school for free, families still have to pay for uniforms, testing fees and school supplies. There are also reports of children not attending school because of poorly paid teachers demanding enrollment money from them.

Allison Mooney, Burkina Faso

1. Basic country stats

% of population living below the poverty line 46.4%
GDP per capita: $1,200
% Women in the Workforce: 80%

2. Most common stereotype about Burkina Faso
That it doesn’t exist. This is false If you know enough about it to have a stereotype, you’ve probably done some real research. As far as Sahel area, most people assume the whole area is brown and dead. Although Ouaga itself doesn’t have much to offer nature-wise, the west of the country is beautiful and green!

3. Greatest challenge

Although perspectives differ on the greatest challenges facing Burkina, one that is really holding the country back is lack of education and unemployment. Only 21% of the population is literate (CIA Factbook), so there is no incentive for international corporations to come and utilize the capable workforce here. As a result, official unemployment is 77%. Although people find something to fill their time and make enough money to feed their children, moving above subsistence will require some changes to the Burkinabe education.

4. Most common loan product at field partner, Micro Start/AFD
Small business loans- selling fruit, pagnes (African cloth), etc… Most are group loans but some individual.

5. Clients’ most common use of profits
Education and health of children. Often families need to take their children out of school here because they need them to work to help feed the family. With the loans, often the parents can make enough money to support the family so children can stay in school.

Meru, Kenya (by Claire Markham)

This week on the Kiva fellows blog, start out by learning about three new microfinance products – microinsurance in Indonesia, higher education loans in the Philippines and green and water loans in Kenya. Continue on to Nepal to admire the handiwork of artisan borrowers. Make your way to Ecuador to find out more about the risk of indebtedness. Share the fellows’ personal experiences with the recent elections in Nicaragua and rush hour traffic in Uganda. Finish by taking a critical look at transparency in microfinance and Kiva’s responsibility with regards to transparency.

Microinsurance in Indonesia: What are the Options for Kiva Borrowers?
Country: Indonesia / Fellow: Laurie Young (KF16)
Laurie takes a look at Vision Fund Indonesia’s current microinsurance products.

Artisan Borrowers of BPW-Patan, Nepal
Country: Nepal / Fellow: Abhinab Basnyat (KF16)
Abhinab visits Kiva borrowers in Nepal and admires their handicraft.

Necessary “No”
Country: Ecuador / Fellow: Marcus Berkowitz (KF16)
Marcus explains why Cooperativa San Jose must say “no” to some borrowers who risk over-indebtedness.

Team Kiva: World Police?
Country: Tanzania / Fellow: Lauren Barra (KF16)
Lauren explores whether Kiva has a responsibility to promote microfinance transparency and what Kiva must do to meet this responsibility.

Red and Black to Pink, Peace and Love: The Reign of Daniel
Country: Nicaragua / Fellow: Jim Burke (KF16)
Jim shines some light on the results of the recent elections in Nicaragua.

Study Now, Pay Now: Funding Higher Education in the Philippines
Country: Philippines / Fellow: Jill Hall (KF16)
Jill answers questions about higher education loan products in the Philippines.

The Kampala Commute
Country: Uganda / Fellow: Andrew Huelsenbeck (KF16)
Andrew shares his experience getting around the Ugandan capital during rush hour.

Going Green? Overcoming Cultural Barriers to Promote Green Loans (Part 2)
Country: Kenya / Fellow: Claire Markham (KF16)
Claire attempts to answer the question of how an MFI can break through cultural barriers to implement a successful green and water loan program.

~
Updates from the past month:
Earthquakes, 5Ks + The Pain of Sickness and Loss
Expanding the Reach of Microfinance, Downsizing Development + Why We Kiva
Green Loans, Dark Alleys + On-the-Ground Footage of it All
Kiva-style Microfinance, Reggaeton + a Journey though the Commercial Jungle
Loan Use, Agriculture Loans + Stuff Kiva Fellows Like
~

Plus more pictures from the past week:

Indonesia (by Laurie Young)

Nepal (by Abhinab Basnyat)

Ecuador (by Marcus Berkowitz)

Tanzania (by Lauren Barra)

Nicaragua (by Jim Burke)

Philippines (by Jill Hall)

Kenya (by Claire Markham)

 Before this month, I had never ran an organized race. But when I heard of Fundación Paraguaya’s (FP) 5K to celebrate their new initiative in Tanzania, I was in! Yes, I said Tanzania – over 6,000 miles away from FP’s headquarters in Asunción. I will go into more detail about this great venture in a bit. But first, back to the 5K.

The race took place at FP’s financially self-sufficient and award-winning San Francisco Agricultural School, a.k.a. Cerrito, for the Low Chaco town it is located in.

Cerrito's store is strategically located along the side of the highway.

After a 2 hour bus ride, the Cerrito campus is just a short (1k or .6 mile) walk away.

The night before the race, two friends from the office and I stayed in the hotel located on Cerrito’s campus. After a combination of bus-riding and a little walking, we arrived at our destination. And while our room was getting set-up we toured the campus, talked to some students, saw a few farm animals, and admired well-tended herb and vegetable gardens. Since it was Sunday, we were only able to peek into the facilities where students process milk, yogurt, a variety of cheeses, and the ever-present dulce de leche.

Cerrito is committed to 100% organic products for the benefit of our health and of the environment.

A beautiful Chaco sunset.

Cerrito is a co-ed agricultural boarding school for students between the ages of 15-21 who come from poor farming families. Its curriculum integrates the usual high school subjects with the running of small-scale, on-campus agricultural businesses. These businesses also generate enough income to cover all of the school’s operating costs. This combination of academic and practical instruction helps students develop technical and entrepreneurial skills that will greatly increase the chances of a successful and stable financial future for themselves and their families. It can’t be overlooked that even the hotel serves as a type of ‘classroom’ where students can learn inter-personal and customer service skills, as well as catering and rural hotel management.

Cerrito students also sell their products in Asunción's weekly farmer's market.

The morning of the race was clear and sunny and charged with lots of positive energy. It was nice to spend time with employees from many different branches and with their families in such a relaxed atmosphere. We all picked up our respective t-shirt (yours truly was in the Leopardo group), stretched our limbs, and we were off!

Ready to go! Here with Kristen, Laura, Luis (KC), and Nancy (previous KC).

To begin with, the “SEGA Girls School” in Morogoro, which works with adolescent girls from marginalized groups, will replicate FP’s model used in the Mbaracayú School for Girls. In addition, the co-ed “Njombe Vocational Training Centre” in Njombe, which works with rural youth, will replicate the model used in the San Pedro Agricultural School. More schools will be selected in the coming months.

Fundación Paraguaya’s Tanzania office, located in Morogoro, about 120 miles west of Dar es Salaam, opened its doors October 4th. While FP will be operating out of Tanzania, it will also work with institutions in South Africa, Uganda, Kenya, Malawi and Rwanda.

This type of collaboration is not the norm as far as development aid is concerned. And it is an example of the South-South cooperation emerging throughout the developing world that challenges the “traditional” North-South donor-recipient relationship. What makes this collaboration even more unique is the absence of direct government involvement that would raise questions about ulterior motives and diplomatic interests. The questions of accountability and social performance measures, however, should always remain.

The longer I’m on the field, the more I realize that when it comes to poverty elimination (or even alleviation) and development there simply is no “silver bullet”. And granted, Paraguay and Tanzania have different histories and different cultures. But Fundación Paraguaya is implementing a well thought-out combination of tools that seem to be making a difference. Only time will tell the long-term impact of the financially self-sufficient agricultural school model and its mix of academic, technical, and entrepreneurial instruction. My hope, of course, is for this approach to have a lasting positive impact that benefits not only the participating students, but their families, communities, and countries for generations to come. Only time will tell.

Alba is a Kiva Fellow working with Fundación Paraguaya in Asunción.  To learn more about this great organization please visit Fundación Paraguaya’s partner page, or join their lending team. New loan profiles for the month of November are already up and fundraising! Check them out and lend to one, or two, or more of their dedicated borrowers.

In the four weeks I’ve lived in New Orleans, I’ve heard this statement from nearly ten different people. Glancing around at the Wal-Marts, the boutique frozen yogurt shops, the SUVs, and the stately houses on St. Charles Ave., it’s been hard for me believe the comparison. But the complaints about the city do parallel those I heard about and witnessed in Tanzania: there is rampant corruption. Nothing works the way it should. Everything happens slowly. The labrynthine bureaucracy slows progress. Change is slow to occur, or absent altogether. People are satisfied with the status quo. Poverty is persistent and pervasive. It’s not safe. The roads are awful and people are bad drivers. And I mean, really bad drivers.

I’ve witnessed some similarities myself: abandoned and dilapidated buildings are a common sight. Homeless people walk up and down the medians at stop lights, peering into windows that stay rolled-up, more often than not. It’s oppressively hot and there are a lot of mosquitoes (but at least they don’t carry Malaria). And don’t get me started on the pot holes. But the negative comparisons stop there. And then a flood of the positive. New Orleans is a place where relationships matter. People are friendly, welcoming, generous, and warm. They are talkative. It’s unbelievably easy to make friends. The music settles down deep in your chest and won’t let your feet stop moving or your body stop swaying. People dance. And they sing. And they eat, a lot. And they are, or at least seem to be, very happy. So maybe these two places, some 8,799 miles apart, really are alike.

Ashley, a Kiva New Orleans borrower

Happy, a Tanzanian Kiva borrower

The familiar joy in my soul is back. Sometimes I’ve struggled to communicate to people why I loved living in Tanzania so much, despite the many frustrations and inconveniences, the dangers and the fears. Maybe I should just tell them to come to New Orleans to get a little taste of what I mean when I say that the positives just outweigh the negatives, that sometimes a place can make you feel alive.

Another thing that New Orleans seems to have in common with Tanzania and the developing countries I’ve visited: it is a tourist destination, rich in culture and history, in local flavor and ritualized tradition. People travel long distances to see a place that resists change, that is unique, that in some ways defies modernity. Perhaps they recognize, subconsciously, that their lives elsewhere are safe and comfortable but somehow sterile, less striking, maybe even stale.

Maasai women. The Masaai have preserved much of their traditional culture despite colonialism in Tanzania.

Shaka and Na'imah Zulu are members of the Mardi Gras Indian tribe "Yellow Pocahontas." The Mardi Gras Indians are descendants of escaped slaves who were sheltered and hidden by Native Americans.

I’ve been guilty in the past, I think, of idealizing poverty. I’ve always had the ability to leave. I’ve never experienced true need or institutionalized injustice or oppression. The odds have very rarely been against me. Where I have failed, I have had no one and nothing to blame but myself. But I have witnessed the resilience and courage of people who are called “less fortunate” than myself, and I do not believe that my admiration of their character has been misplaced. Maybe I am so impressed and moved by what goes on in the lives of the poor because it is with them that I’ve seen most clearly the triumph of the human spirit, the ability to overcome difficult circumstances with gratitude and persistence.

Somali rapper K’Naan recently wrote an editorial for the New York Times in which he called Somalia “a paradise of paradox,” a place of both breathtaking beauty and unspeakable pain. New Orleans, in its way, offers the same confounding combination of opposites inextricably linked. The scars of Katrina are still visible here, as “x-codes” spraypainted on houses by coast guard crews to show which dwellings had been checked for bodies, as credit scores destroyed when livelihoods were swept away, as the grey lines high on the sides of buildings that mark the floodwaters’ reach. But bright new buildings and businesses, rebuilt neighborhoods, and continued recovery efforts stand out against those darker backdrops.

A mural on a building near Good Work Network, one of the Kiva New Orleans partners

The other day I walked in a Second Line, the famous New Orleans tradition of a bass brand parade. A second line usually follows a wedding or a funeral procession. I was told that a jazz funeral second line is a celebration of life; it lets the creator know how much a person was appreciated and loved. I was also told that second lines were a way for New Orleans “pleasure and social clubs” to advertise their life-insurance policies. “If you are one of us,” the spectacle would promise, “just look at what a party your funeral will be! We will celebrate you with style!” The music was infectious. Everyone danced together. Dancers twirled fringed and bejeweled parasols. Strangers embraced. Bodies became instruments of beats. But as we shimmied and bobbed down the road, my companions whispered about the violence that sometimes accompanies these joyful events. “A two-year-old was shot last year,” one person said. “And make sure you don’t fall behind the parade, because that’s where it gets dangerous.” We had to park strategically so that we wouldn’t walk certain irreputable blocks as we left the parade. I couldn’t separate my joy from my anxiety; a single river of adrenaline flowed through my body.

Second Line dancer

As I drove away from the Second Line, I thought of a poem by Langston Hughes called “Let America Be America Again.” He articulates the persistent paradox of America, saying:

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed–
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

[...]

For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay–
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

[...]

O, let America be America again–
The land that never has been yet–
And yet must be–the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine–the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME–
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

[...]

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath–
America will be!

In a way, I see New Orleans as what America could be. It is a place that is aware that it is in constant flux. Those in the present take stock of a rich past and promising future, while holding an open conversation about the inherent risk and great potential of diversity. The heterogeneity of New Orleans, it’s mottled history of Spaniards and Frenchmen, Canadians and freed Slaves, native people and pioneering colonialists, has left a legacy of both conflict and enduring vitality. American culture has reaped the benefits of New Orleans’ beautiful, hybrid traditions. And yes, there is a certain uncomfortable paradox at the realization that the jazz and blues traditions that led to Rock ‘n’ Roll only existed because of the cultural resilience of enslaved Africans. That the enigmatic Mardi Gras Indians marched in their elaborate masked costumes during Mardi Gras celebrations because this was the only time blacks were allowed to “parade without a permit.” That the famous ‘po’ boy’ sandwiches were so named because poor people could only afford a simple meal of fried meat on a plain bun. But it’s a tribute to New Orleans that the people here have stubbornly and repeatedly turned darkness into light. And into very delicious food.

The entrance to Louis Armstrong Park

What all this thinking about New Orleans as a “developing country” has led me to (re)consider is the very language we use to talk about development. We’re all familiar with the concepts of the “developed world” versus the “developing world.” This paradigm of thought suggests a very real phenomenon: the belief that there are two distinct worlds on one spinning planet. And if there are these two worlds, then the concerns of the one half must be quite different than those of the other half. In fact, individuals in the other world must be very nearly aliens. The racist justifications of slavery and genocide make more sense if we split the earth in two. You might say these are concerns of the past, but the economic exploitation made common and acceptable by the corporate globalized system have replaced old forms of oppression. The work of Kiva, I would argue, is to fight the poverty created by unequal local and global systems and to empower all individuals to participate meaningfully in the market.

So, in our terminology we have divided countries and societies (which consist of people, of course) into those we consider “developed” or “developing.” And at this point, the English major in me, perpetually fascinated by language, interjects. These words themselves, what do they suggest? And how do they shape our society? First of all, we only have to look at campaigns for aid and charity to see that those in the developing world are often portrayed as passive victims. Compare this to the “free” people of the West, empowered by their choices, first measured by their ability to choose leaders, religions, and lifestyles, but increasingly guaged by the breadth of their consumer choices. “Buying power” as freedom. But at what point does commodification become it’s own particular type of cage? When we measure value in terms of what we possess rather than how we act and what we are able to do for others, what is lost? By promoting microfinance, sharing the personal stories of Kiva borrowers, and connecting Lenders and Borrowers with these stories, Kiva reminds us that people matter more than profits and that making a living is about more than money. When I ask Kiva borrowers how they have used and will use the additional profits gained from their loans, rarely do they mention wanting to buy more things. They talk about providing education and healthcare for their children, better food for their families, and more opportunities for their communities.

Charles and friends. Though the men came from Mississippi, Mombasa, Kenya, and Honduras, they all call New Orleans home.

So if the United States is a developed country, then why does Kiva have a presence here? Once a country is considered “developed” (modernized, industrialized, democratized, capitalized), then people want to wipe their hands, pat each other on the back, and say the work is done. Institutionalized greed and inequality are given the leeway to exist, because we become convinced we have achieved development and reached an endpoint. The action is completed. Stasis reached. Shouldn’t we be satisfied? By bringing Kiva City to the United States, Kiva has made a brave statement about what development means and who can benefit from it.

What I have been getting at from the beginning is that maybe New Orleans should be proud of being compared to a “developing country.” Maybe the words we have chosen to describe the project of development should be changed to reflect the fact that all countries are developing. What is alluring about the classification of the “developing country” is that the label reminds us that society is always a work in progress. Until some utopian civilization is achieved, no country can be truly developed. As long as their is homelessness, poverty, inequal access to credit, healthcare and education, a wage gap between genders, etc., then yes, we are still developing.

A wall painting on Oretha Haley Castle Boulevard

Many of the people I’ve met in New Orleans came to volunteer after the storm, intending to stay for a few months, but ended up making the city their home. Even after Katrina killed 1,835 people, destroyed 275,000 homes and 400,000 jobs, caused $81 billion in property damage, and forced the evacuation of 80% of the New Orleans population, over 140,000 have returned to rebuild. All of the Kiva borrowers with whom I’ve spoken left New Orleans for a while, but each one affirms the same thing: “I always knew I’d come back to New Orleans. There’s no other place like it on earth.” I’ve never seen so many people identify with and love their city with such fervent passion, with such abounding joy, and with such commitment to making it better. I’ll end with a quote from the Talmud that reflects the spirit and determination of the folks I’ve met here. I thank them for their hard work and optimism.

“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” 

Rebecca Corey was a Kiva Fellow in the 9th class with Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd. in Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania. Now, she’s back for round two, helping Kiva to launch Kiva New Orleans, the second Kiva City. To learn more about how to bring Kiva to your city, go here. To read about ASI Federal Credit Union, Kiva’s financial partner in New Orleans, go here. You can also follow Kiva New Orleans on facebook, join the Kiva New Orleans lending team, or make a loan to one of their wonderful clients.

In 2009 when I told friends and family I was moving to Tanzania to study international development and to work for Kiva in the field of microfinance, or the furnishing of small loans to the working poor, we all had certain pre-formed ideas about how impactful and necessary my work was sure to be. We understood that in terms of GDP, literacy, infant mortality, and other common measures, Tanzania is a “developing” country, Third World, periphery. In another word: poor. As a recent college graduate, I had established ideas about poverty. It is there as opposed to here, it happens to the Other or them, not to me or mine, and so on. Therefore, a $200 loan for the purchase of a few goats to a thin, ebony-skinned woman with a brightly patterned cloth turbaned around her head made sense; it fit into my worldview, my idea of the face of poverty. The same held true for the fishmongers, the roadside bicycle repair men, and the juice vendors whose loans I helped process and post to the Kiva website. Oh yes, I knew there was poverty in the United States, but a part of me believed that for Americans, it was different. Better. Safer. More comfortable. And who in the U.S. didn’t have access to credit? I was sure that an entrepreneur with a solid business plan would find it relatively easy to acquire working capital.

A Tanzanian Borrower

But already, Kiva was challenging preconceived notions about poverty and microfinance. At training in San Francisco in 2009, I learned that the leaders of the young organization had decided to start funding loans in the United States. There was immediate backlash. A lending group was formed protesting the decision. Articles were written denouncing the move. But Kiva posted the first U.S. loans, and they were funded almost immediately.

One of the reasons I admire Kiva is that the organization has what I see as an unparalleled commitment to transparency, fairness, and reciprocity. Sometimes, I have come to believe, our attitudes about poverty are just as oppressive and unfair as poverty itself. We stick to a narrative that protects entrenched interests and ideas about the distance and difference between the haves and the have-nots. How fascinating, then, and wonderful, is the idea that a lender in Tanzania, or Colombia, or Thailand, or any “developing” country, could lend to a borrower in the United States, the so-called Leader of the Free World? How would this new direction change the relationship and the understanding between people and across boundaries? Could it break down those pre-conceived notions about need and privilege that sometimes prevent the recognition of our shared humanity? Could it draw attention to the injustice and inequality in our own back yards?

One of the first texts assigned to me by a professor at the Institute of Development Studies at the University of Dar-es-Salaam was “Development as Freedom,” by Amartya Sen. Sen’s Nobel-prize winning assertion was this: Development is not just about the speed of economic growth, Gross Domestic Product, or the military might of a nation. It is not even just about access to food, water, and shelter. It is about the freedoms that individuals in a society enjoy, defined by their economic, political, and human rights. So while the United States may enjoy a greater average wealth than every other nation, what about the plight of our poor? Do they have the opportunity to realize their full human potential and to pursue their dreams? Because if not, perhaps we are not quite so “developed” as we want to believe.

The backlash against Kiva for introducing U.S. loans never actually materialized. The Kiva lending community has voted with their feet (their dollars, rather), and consistently funded every U.S. based loan that has been posted, often within hours. Furthermore, the economic recession that began in 2008 has made people more aware of poverty here in our own neighborhoods and cities. As we analyze the state of our economy and the rate of unemployment, the buzz-words for politicians and financial experts remain “small business.” According to the Small Business Administration, more than 99% of businesses with payrolls in America are small businesses, and those small businesses historically employ more than half of all workers and create 80% of new jobs. So the “Buy Local” movement has arrived in its new form: Lend Local.

The French Quarter

And Kiva is at the forefront of this new opportunity. Just a few months ago, Kiva (in partnership with Visa) launched a new program: Kiva City. Kiva City will leverage the influence and commitment of civic leaders, community organizations, and financial institutions like credit unions to extend microloans to small businesses all across America. Detroit was America’s first Kiva City, and New Orleans is the second, launching just a couple of months after Kiva Detroit. So here is where I come in. I arrived in the Crescent City about a month after the launch of Kiva New Orleans for my second fellowship with the Kiva Fellows Program, fresh from an arduous two-year recovery from the motorbike accident that ended my first fellowship in Dar-es-Salaam.

In my first two weeks I’ve found myself comparing Tanzania to New Orleans at several levels: in the office, among new friends, walking the streets. I am certainly in a modern, developed place with all the conveniences to which I’ve grown accustomed as an American. No cold bucket showers, no language barrier, no frequent power outages, no absurd technological slow-downs, no malaria, and no “local local lifestyle,” the term that I first learned in Tanzania to describe the frustrating aspects of survival in the developing world. The Kiva borrowers I’ve met make a great deal more money than their Tanzanian counterparts (though perhaps not, if we were to adjust for cost of living), and probably live more “comfortable” lives, but their stories are just as compelling and they seem just as deserving of the investment of Kiva Lenders for their commitment to providing jobs and boosting the economy in New Orleans, often struggling to re-open businesses they lost in Hurricane Katrina and have worked tirelessly to revive since then.

Lang, a staff member at ASI, with Demetrius, a Kiva New Orleans borrower

I recognize that some people may want me to come right out and say that these borrowers in New Orleans need business loans just as much as people in Tanzania. Some people may want me to say that they definitely don’t. The one thing I’m sure of is that the issue is much more complex than comparing income, or internet access, or appearances. Muhammad Yunus’s work with female agriculturalists in Bangladesh and the emphasis in development literature on microloans’ impact on women’s empowerment has created a singular profile in many people’s minds about the face of microfinance. I’m excited that the Kiva City program may change that stereotype and help people realize that microfinance is a tool with a great deal of power and potential, not just in developing countries but anywhere that entrepreneurs struggle to access credit because of the risk-averse nature of traditional financial institutions. And that anywhere might just be about everywhere, including here in the U.S.

Because of the generosity of the Kiva lending community, I don’t foresee any borrowers posted on the site going unfunded. But that may not always be the case. And if the supply of loans ever exceeds demand for funding them, the question of who needs a loan more will become crucial. Who would you lend to, if you had to choose between an African farmer and an American daycare owner, or a South American taxi driver versus a South East Asian fisherman? Why? I’m not yet sure of what conclusions I’ll draw here, how my opinions might change, what nuance I’ll discover about poverty in the richest country in the world. But I promise to report here, to the Kiva Community, the honest truth, however complex, contradictory, uncomfortable, or controversial it may be. This is what Kiva does– it pushes the envelope. I’m excited to be here, to see what this new territory holds.

Rebecca Corey was a Kiva Fellow in the 9th class with Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd. in Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania. Now, she’s back for round two, helping Kiva to launch Kiva New Orleans, the second Kiva City. To learn more about how to bring Kiva to your city, go here. To read about ASI Federal Credit Union, Kiva’s financial partner in New Orleans, go here. You can also follow Kiva New Orleans on facebook, join the Kiva New Orleans lending team, or make a loan to one of their wonderful clients.

While many Americans will spend next Sunday, October 31, trick-or-treating, Tanzanians will be headed to the polls.  October 31, 2010 marks a general election for Tanzania, and voters will choose their President for the next five-year term.  It is widely anticipated that the incumbent, Jakaya Kikwete, will be re-elected for his second and final term.  Tanzania has been a de facto one-party state since its independence in 1961.  Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM), or the Party of the Revolution, has produced all of Tanzania’s presidents since Julius Nyerere, Baba wa Taifa (Father of the Nation), whom many credit with establishing a united and peaceful nation.  Not a very dramatic story, is it?

Billboards asking Tanzanians to "Select CCM/Select Kikwete" abound in Dar es Salaam.

Around Dar es Salaam, it is easy to see that CCM is the dominant party with the most funds, as its campaign is very conspicuous.  There are six other presidential candidates, most of whom are campaigning on a much smaller scale.  Willibrod Slaa of Chama Cha Demokrasia na Maendeleo (CHADEMA), the Party for Democracy and Progress, and Ibrahim Lipumba of Chama Cha Wananchi, Civic United Front (CUF), are also much farther ahead in the contest than other candidates.  However, any party other than CCM is very unlikely to gain much influence, either through the presidency or in the parliament.  Are you yawning yet?

There’s not too much that’s riveting about this election, but what does all of this mean for Kiva partner Tujijenge Tanzania Ltd and other microfinance institutions in Tanzania?  Well, it is likely to be business as usual.  Kikwete is supportive of microfinance schemes, indicating them as key to increasing employment, through self-employment and empowerment.  There has been a call for the government to establish a body that would regulate microfinance organizations, with a focus on discouraging exorbitant interest rates.  However, Tujijenge is not one of the institutions that is targeted.  Therefore, it is unlikely that any policies that Tujijenge adheres to will change.  I’ve been asking many of Tujijenge’s employees how the election might affect them and their work at Tujijenge, and I’m typically met with…boredom.

A drama-free election in East Africa is certainly rare.  The 2007 presidential election in Kenya ended in violence along tribal lines when an opposition party prematurely announced it had ousted the incumbent.  In the end, the incumbent won, though it is widely believed the election was rigged.  A former Kiva Fellow in Kenya describes the post-election crisis. In Uganda, incumbent Museveni won the 2006 presidential election, but not without an outbreak of violence around accusations of intimidating the opposition party by holding the challenger on charges of treason and rape.  On August 9 of this year, incumbent Paul Kagame was re-elected amid the suspicious murders of two opposition figures.

So, though this year’s Tanzanian election is “boring” in comparison to other recent elections in East Africa, the peacefulness with which the event is anticipated to pass is welcome indeed.  Tanzanians are very peaceful, eschewing tribal divisions in favor of embracing a national identity.  This is a unique and commendable history, especially given Tanzania’s immediate neighbors.

So, it’s business as usual at Tujijenge.  In that spirit, consider lending to a Tujijenge Tanzania entrepreneur today!

Ann Hingst is a Kiva Fellow serving at Tujijenge Tanzania in Dar es Salaam.  She is currently planning a Halloween party so that she doesn’t have to be bored on Election Day.

Every Kiva Fellow attends a weeklong training at Kiva Headquarters in San Francisco.  The training we received is top notch.  But what happens once a fellow is in the field, and all of a sudden forgets the procedure for reporting loan repayments in Kiva’s system or has trouble navigating the politics of the microfinance institution (MFI) that he or she is visiting?  That’s where the portfolio team comes to the rescue.

Each region has a team of professionals that maintain relationships with multiple MFI’s in a region, and also help support Kiva Fellows in the field.  Several of these professionals are former Kiva Fellows themselves.   Let’s take a look at the roles they play.

Field Support Specialists

Each region has one or more Field Support Specialists (FSS).  The FSS assigned to a particular MFI is the first point of contact for a Kiva Fellow with questions.  FSS’ are based in the field near the MFI’s that they support.  For example, Kevin Chaissan is the FSS that supports the MFI that I’m currently working with, the Youth Self Employment Organization (YOSEFO), in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.  Kevin was a member of KF10 and KF11.  Kevin is based in Nairobi, Kenya, but travels in the region to pay visits to the multiple MFI’s that he now works with.

Regional Development Officers

Regional Development Officers focus on managing relationships with many MFI’s. They, too, are based in the area near the MFI’s that they serve.  David Kitusa expertly manages the relationship with YOSEFO and other MFI’s in Anglophone Africa.  A native Kenyan, he is also based in Nairobi, and has an impressive amount of experience in microfinance.

Regional Directors

Regional Directors oversee partnerships with MFI’s located throughout an entire region, set strategy for the region, and perform due diligence on MFI’s that are potential Kiva partners.  Ben Elberger, who joined Kiva in its early days, manages all of Anglophone Africa and South Asia.

The entire portfolio team is integral to a Kiva Fellow’s success in the field, wherever in the world they are located.  Last week, YOSEFO received a visit from its FSS, who was able to help me with questions about my various tasks as a fellow.  We also partnered with the Regional Development Officer to discuss the relationship between Kiva and the MFI.

Learn more about the fabulous members of Kiva’s Microfinance Partnerships Team that provide invaluable support to Kiva Fellows!

Support Kiva’s partners by lending today!

Ann Hingst is a Kiva Fellow serving in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.  She’s entertaining the locals with her feeble attempts at speaking Swahili, and trying to stop sweating constantly.

I’ve now been in the field as a Kiva Fellow for almost four months! It’s hard to believe all that has happened in this short time. I’ve battled malaria, ridden the local daladalas ‘til I know their paths like a local, developed a healthy taste for “chipsi mayai” (an egg and french fry omelette–the most popular Tanzanian street food), learned every Kiswahili greeting around (and there seem to be hundreds!), and settled into life with my beautiful homestay family. I’ve also conducted a borrower verification of SELFINA (a Kiva partner in Dar), and spent hours interviewing, photographing, and writing for borrower profiles and journal updates  for Kiva clients at my host MFI, Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd. I’ve collaborated with RockhopperTV and the BBC World News on a short documentary series that will feature Kiva as one of the world’s most innovative social businesses, and created templates and training materials for Tujijenge as well. Last but not least, I’ve enrolled in the Masters in Development Studies program at the University of Dar es Salaam, which has allowed me to explore the theoretical background and debates surrounding the development practices I’m witnessing on the ground. Most of my days are spent at in the field with clients, at local branch offices, and on Partner Administration (or PA2 as the Kiva Fellows call it), the website that allows Kiva’s partner microfinance institutions to post business descriptions, upload borrower profile pictures and journal updates, keep track of repayments and account details, and otherwise manage their interactions with Kiva headquarters.

So ironically, since I began my Kiva Fellowship I haven’t spent that much time on the actual Kiva.org website. I’ve been otherwise occupied. But today, on a relatively quiet Friday in the office, I felt the urge to look at the fundraising loans… Here is what I found: Togo, Peru, Ukraine, Lebanon, Ghana… Cosmetics sales, fish vendor, grocer, butcher, barber… Mother, widow, uncle, brother, child… a woman in a field with a large-brimmed pink hat, a man lounging against his bright blue taxi, another standing proudly in front of his house in the midst of construction, a lady with a grin on her round face and her head tilted back, a man who looks like he’s never had his picture taken before and considers it a very serious occasion…

I was born in Korea, raised in America, and here I am working in Tanzania. But as I read and browsed the fundraising loans on Kiva, I was traveling around the world, and meeting, as business partners, a host of brave, innovative, entrepreneurial, and absolutely fascinating people. I was connecting, through lending, for the sake of easing need and alleviating want, for making the world a more equitable and just place. And before I knew it I’d found five entrepreneurs that each spoke to me in a different way. I made five loans in about 15 minutes. The experience of loaning on Kiva is what you might call addictive. It’s fun. And endlessly interesting to read a little bit about what life is like for people all around the world.

I made my first Kiva loan in September of 2009 to a woman named Esther in Juliaca, Peru. It was first and foremost an emotional and personal response. My little sister is adopted from Peru, and Esther’s eyes reminded me of hers. She is shown framed by stacks of soaps, boxes and bottles in what appears to be a small shop, with a small child with ruddy cheeks bundled next to her. Interestingly enough, the profile was written entirely in Spanish, and no English translation was provided. With my rusty Spanish from several years of classes in high school, I managed to catch the gist. I noticed words like “familia” and “ella tiene viente siete anos,” but to be honest I only skimmed the profile. I would learn a few months later during my training as a Kiva Fellow that this was sort of an experiment for Kiva, to see if untranslated loans were funded less quickly than ones with translations, or left unfunded altogether. They told me they were surprised to find that business profiles posted in languages other than English (the language spoken by a very high percentage of Kiva borrowers) were funded just as quickly as those with profiles in English! It seemed I was not alone in choosing a borrower based on an emotional reaction from the photo.

Over the next few months, while preparing for my fellowship in Tanzania I asked friends and family members how they selected which loans to support on the Kiva.org website. The photo was usually on the top of most people’s list. Did the person’s image ‘speak’ to them? Was it something about the person’s smile or the landscape behind them or the signs of a lively business operating around them? But while the picture was often the first thing they commented on, it was usually some detail included in the profile that really sold them on investing in that particular entrepreneur. My friends were fascinated by a business in Tajikistan, or wanted to support a woman with five children, or a man who lived in Guatemala–which was a place she had visited or really wanted to go. The reasons for lending were just as fascinating to me as the reasons for borrowing. And above all, I was amazed at connections and exchange–financial, informational, and emotional– occurring between people, communities and cultures that spanned the entire globe. Kiva reminds and educates people of the diversity of cultures, while affirming the shared humanity between us… and the most basic truth of all: we’re united by so many common concerns– making a living, caring for our families, and building our lives around our hopes and dreams for the future.

So we all have our unique histories and ideas that draw us to certain borrowers on the Kiva website. Luckily, there are so many generous and committed Kiva lenders that very few loans that are posted ever go unfunded. Yet Kiva is a marketplace, and there may come a day when the supply of loans posted exceeds the demand to fill them. Another interesting fact I picked up at Kiva Fellows training in San Francisco is that despite the multitudes of individuals and preferences, certain trends arise when one studies the rate of funding of Kiva loans. Women in Africa who are involved in agriculture are the most “popular” loans to fund. Their loans are funded the fastest. Kiva lenders, on average, also seem to prefer to fund individual rather than group loans. Loans for men from Eastern European countries who drive taxis are funded the most slowly. It seems that ideas of need and poverty are accompanied by certain faces or profiles, stereotypes we’ve adopted based on popular perceptions or media portrayals of what it means to be poor. I hope no one will take this the wrong way. I’m in no way criticizing the Kiva lending community. On the contrary, I think the Kiva data on loan funding is indicative of just how compassionate Kiva lenders are: they want passionately to help people help themselves out of poverty, and so those who are perceived as being the most disadvantaged or underprivileged are funded the fastest. But it’s worth noting that microfinance reaches individuals in need of access to capital and anyone on Kiva’s website has been screened by a partner MFI that has found them worthy of and in need of a loan. So that Armenian taxi driver with pale skin and a leather jacket may need your loan just as much as a Kenyan coffee farmer.

Like I said before, group loans also sometimes take a long time to fund on Kiva.org. Here in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania at my host MFI, Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd., all of the loans we post to Kiva are group loans. The group loan method provides a social guarantee of repayment that takes the place of formal credit histories. It allows MFIs to loan to clients who most desperately need these microloans by helping them keep interest rates reasonable and reducing operating and loan administration costs. The group members elect leaders and name their group, encourage and support each other, and guarantee each other’s repayments. It was, in fact, this group loan methodology that Muhammed Yunus promoted with the Grameen Bank and fueled the microfinance revolution. Yunus has said “My experience working in the Grameen Bank has given me faith; an unshakable faith in the creativity of human beings. It leads me to believe that humans are not born to suffer the misery of hunger and poverty. They suffer now as they did in the past because we turn our heads away from this issue..”

Oftentimes, we photograph the clients at the branch office where they come to collect their loans, so Kiva lenders don’t get the opportunity to see them photographed in their places of work. Sometimes the photo quality isn’t great, and the faces look small because so many people have had to fit in the frame. The pace of loan disbursement at the branch office can sometimes crawl–the office has a committed and hard-working staff, but microfinance is such a necessity for so many small business owners in Tanzania that the workload is often overwhelming. Sometimes, a group will wait for two hours under the hot equatorial sun before they can receive their loans. So in the picture, the borrowers may look tired and eager to leave. They tend to consider having their photo taken a very serious occasion, and they do not smile when the flash goes off. But they crowd around me to see the result and laugh, patting each other on the back, usually pleased at the result, or sometimes requesting another take. I am humbled and honored to work with these patient, kind, and ambitious entrepreneurs. I am grateful for the time they take to tell me their stories, so that I can then share them with you.

It has been a truly inspiring experience to work as a Kiva Fellow at Tujijenge these past few months. And today, it was really fun to take all I have learned as a Kiva Fellow and return to the Kiva website as a lender. I have to admit, I went a little crazy, making five loans in the span of just twenty minutes! I just couldn’t help myself. I was so moved by the compelling profiles of Phun Kheoun in Cambodia, Remelyn Calenada in the Philippines, Fatou Diouf from Senegal, Saimuhammad Tugaev in Tajikistan, and Silvio Antonio Rivas Masis from Nicaragua. Remelyn sat aside a blue motorbike and I could tell she was a woman after my own heart. Saimuhammad looked so charming in his black cap in front of his stylish black shoes. Silvio was building a new house for his growing family. From my third floor office in Dar es Salaam, I traveled all over the world, visiting these borrowers. I felt proud to contribute to their loans, and excited to think how their lives will change. So all of this is to say: thank you, Kiva lenders, for doing what you do. I have witnessed first hand the ability of microfinance to empower entrepreneurs, bring people together, and make such an incredible difference in the lives of Tanzanian families. I won’t be a Kiva Fellow for much longer, but I will always be a Kiva lender–a guarantee for good company.

Rebecca Corey has returned from the field where she served as a Kiva Fellow in Dar es Salaam with Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd. See Tujijenge’s currently fundraising loans here, and join the Tujijenge lending team! To watch the BBC/Rockhopper documentary on Kiva filmed at Tujijenge, follow this link.

Five months after boarding a plane to San Francisco, it’s time to wrap up my Kiva Fellowship.  For my last post, I’d like to honour a tradition set by past Tanzanian Kiva Fellows (see  posts by Alec Lovett KF4; Jara Small, KF5; and Jennifer Gong, KF9) and share a few of my observations from this crazy and charming country.  Hope you enjoy!

You know you are in Tanzania when…

1. Handshakes can last several minutes –as long as it takes to get through daily greetings.
2. If it takes under an hour to get a few kilometres by dallah-dallah (bus), you start to wonder why the traffic is so light.
   

   Dallah-dallahs.

3. You hum along to the rhythm of clanging coins, the refrain of the bus conductor soliciting fares.
4. You ask yourself: ‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’ because you see that daily, along with processions of goats and cows.
   

   Cow crossing, as seen from a bajaj (motorized rickshaw)

5. Hair salons feature cartoons of Obama, Eminem, Che Gueverra, and Julius Nyerere (Tanzania’s first and  most beloved President) for stylish inspirations.
   

   Jay-Z and the President have style!

6. You know all the best spots for chapatti (flatbread) and maandazi (donuts).
7. Your colleagues are wearing sweaters and complain that it is freezing outside. As usual, you are still sweating.
8. Many toddlers look at you and then run towards you at full speed to give your knees a hug.  A few toddlers look at you and burst into tears.
9. You try to work in Swahili time, which refers to hours since sunrise. Hour 0 is 6am, but you often forget, and this has caused you to miss events and reschedule meetings that should take place at 3:30 (9:30AM) because you think it will be too late to get started.
   

   A view from Msasani (Dar Es Salaam) at around 10 o'clock (4 pm).

10. You are invited and encouraged to attend celebrations (weddings etc) of people you just recently met, and they genuinely hope you can take part

And finally, Karibu (welcome) is the word you hear most often, which is fitting because since you first arrived, you’ve felt nothing but warmth and caring from all the wonderful people you’ve met!

Want to add to the list for Tanzania or start a new one from a different country?  Consider becoming a Kiva Fellow and check out program details here.

Sara Strawczynski is finishing up her time as a Kiva Fellow where she served with four different Field Partners in Rwanda and Tanzania.

That’s a question I’d never considered before serving as a Kiva Fellow.  I figured that charcoal is a dirty and unsustainable source of fuel, and not one that I want to support.  Charcoal production causes massive deforestation and produces considerable emissions of carbon dioxide.  So when presented with the option of lending to a charcoal seller on Kiva’s website, I always selected an entrepreneur in a different sector to support.

Flash forward a few months – I have now enjoyed hundreds of meals cooked on charcoal stoves and grills, first in Rwanda and now in Tanzania.  I’ve also met about a dozen Kiva clients who make their living producing and selling charcoal.   These experiences certainly haven’t made me a full advocate for continued use of charcoal fuel.  They have, however, made me realize that the issues surrounding sustainable energy are not white and black, but closer to charcoal grey.  So here’s why I would now consider lending to a charcoal seller through Kiva:

Everybody needs fuel to survive – for cooking, cleaning, and heating.   Here in Dar Es Salaam, gas and electricity are available in some neighbourhoods, but they are expensive and unreliable.   About three-quarters of households in Dar Es Salaam rely on charcoal as their primary cooking fuel.  Charcoal is a step up from firewood because it burns slower, is easier to transport, and produces less smoke, which is dangerous to inhale.   Though charcoal is not the cleanest energy source, it is the best source of fuel that is available and affordable to many of the urban poor, allowing them to cook and survive.

People involved in producing and selling charcoal are providing a product that is needed.  Like all the other  microentrepreneurs that you see on Kiva’s website, they are trying to support themselves and their families, and deserve the chance to make that happen through microfinance.

That said, Tanzania’s current charcoal sector is not driven by a few microentrepreneurs.  It is operating on a macro scale, with massive environmental implications.  Tanzanians consumes a million tons of charcoal a year, making charcoal the third largest sector in this country, after mining and tourism.  Dar Es Salaam is one of the fastest growing cities in Africa, and charcoal demand is increasing even faster.   More and more hectares of forests in the rural areas surrounding Dar Es Salaam are being logged to supply charcoal to the city.  Some projections suggest that Tanzania’s forests will be gone within 50 years, while the demand for charcoal will only keep growing.  In light of such dire possibilities, the government is trying to expand the electrical grid and encourage some of Dar Es Salaam’s 3 million inhabitants to switch to other energy sources; however, changes don’t come overnight.  The fact is that charcoal will remain an important source of fuel in East Africa for decades or longer.

Given this reality, Tujijenge Africa (a local microfinance institution, and Kiva Field Partner Tujijenge Tanzania’s sister organization) is actively working for change through the Dar Charcoal Project.  The project is a collaboration between the Worldwide Fund for Nature (WWF), Camco Advisory Services of Tanzania (an energy company), Barclays Bank and other partners.  The project will engage rural communities  where most of Tanzania’s charcoal production and associated deforestation take place.  Communities are encouraged and supported to adopt sustainable forestry practices to help make sure that there is an ongoing supply of charcoal.  Like other forestry industries, careful management including land use planning, seedling development, tree planting and scheduled harvesting can help lead to sustainable charcoal production, and reduced carbon dioxide emissions.  Tujijenge Africa is working to develop a voluntary carbon market where private and public sectors can buy carbon credits to offset their own emissions.   Communities involved in the Dar Charcoal Project will receive the revenue from the credits, encouraging them to continue sustainable charcoal production practices.  Other components of the Dar Charcoal Project include improvements to charcoal-production kilns, promoting more efficient charcoal stoves, and championing charcoal alternatives such as biomass bricks that are made from agricultural waste.

I certainly don’t have any easy solution to propose on how to balance the fuel requirements of growing populations and developing economies with environmental sustainability; however,  I have come to realized that microentrepreneurs (including those featured on Kiva) and microfinance institutions are one part of a complicated matrix of players, and will be part of any sustainable (or unsustainable) fuel industries that emerge in the future. Choosing to ignore or avoid loans to charcoal sellers on Kiva does not promote more sustainable fuel production or consumption.   It does, however, penalize microentrepreneurs trying to fill a demand and support themselves and their families, which is why from now on I will consider lending to charcoal vendors like  Juan and Margaret through Kiva.

Sara Strawczynski is a Kiva Fellow in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.

Yesterday I spent about 12 hours on hot, crowded and bumpy buses in Dar Es Salaam.   At least half of that time was spent idling in traffic jams, an inevitable experience whenever one travels to the far-flung corners of this sprawling city. I was trying to reach a couple of Tujijenge Tanzania clients and interview them as part of Kiva’s borrower verification process (learn more about that by reading some excellent blogs on the topic).  I found one of the two clients I was hoping to meet, so the day was partially successful.

The end of the bus line. From here, it was a 15 minute piki-piki (motorbike) ride to reach the client

By the time I got home it was close to 9pm, and after cleaning up and a quick meal (rice and beans in coconut sauce – delightful!), I was ready to relax. Allowing myself a short reprieve from noisy, dusty Dar, a movie was in order. Figuring a British film set in 1960s London should do the trick, I settled on the film An Education; however, as the story of a schoolgirl’s doomed relationship with an older man unfolded, I couldn’t help but recognize that the movie holds significant parallels with modern Tanzania.

Listening to morning radio on the commute to work in Tanzania, you’re going to hear a message from the Fataki campaign. Fataki, which means explosion in Kiswahili, is a fictional ‘big man’. He preys on girls and young women, offering them money, food, and gifts for sex. Exemplifying Sugar Daddy Syndrome, the radio spots present Fataki in everyday situations – trying to buy a meal for a schoolgirl, taking her to the supermarket or a traditional dance show, or offering to pay for a school uniform. Fataki’s efforts are thwarted each time by the girl, her family, school staff and strangers.

Fataki and schoolgirl. Photo coutesy of: www.stradcomtanzania.org

The campaign aims to challenge toleration of cross-generational relationships, which contribute to Tanzania’s frightening rates of teenage pregnancies, school-drop outs and new HIV infections among young women. The campaign isn’t preachy, but tries to ridicule and stigmatize Sugar Daddy Syndrome. Of course radio ads alone aren’t going to empower young women or end gender inequalities in education, unplanned pregnancies and the spread of HIV/AIDS; however, opening the discussion is a step in the right direction.

Microfinance has a role to play as well. Microloans and the profits they generate help families cover school-fees and other educational expenses such as transportation and uniforms for their daughters and sons. Perhaps girls who are well fed and supported in school, and girls who see their moms in control of businesses and finances, won’t feel like they need a sugar daddy to buy them a soda and chipsi mayai (an omelette with fries inside), or give them a couple of bucks in exchange for sex.

Things turn out fine for the girl in An Education, and she goes on to study at university. Real life is much more complicated, but hopefully more girls and young women in Tanzania can avoid Fataki dynamite, and will at least get the chance to finish primary and secondary school, and start adulthood on their own terms. You can help support them by lending to young entrepreneurs and their moms and dads through Kiva.  Check out the latest opportunities from field partner Tujijenge Tanzania here.

Sara Strawczynski is serving as a Kiva Fellow in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.

The Rideau Canal in my hometown of Ottawa, Canada is the world’s largest skating rink.  Each winter, the canal freezes into a winter wonderland, and I love skating along its 7.8 kilometres of ice.  No skate would be complete without a taste of beavertail at the end.  Despite what its name might imply, beavertails are actually a delightfully deep-fried pastry, covered in cinnamon and sugar.  They are available at huts along the ice, and in my mind, beavertails are as much part of winter as skating, cold feet and hot chocolate.

That’s why it took me a moment to place the distinct beavertail scent while wandering the hot, congested and sandy streets of Dar Es Salaam, where I  am serving as a Kiva Fellow.  My nose quickly led me around the corner, to some young women selling maandazi – donut like pastries available on street corners throughout East Africa.

Maandazi sellers

Maandazi are often enjoyed for breakfast with chai (tea), or as an afternoon snack.

Breakfast is served, complete with yesterday's soccer scores

Many of the clients at Kiva Field Partner Tujijenge Tanzania run small street-stands, selling maandazi, chapatti (flatbread), grilled meat and cassava, nuts, fruits and vegetables.   In the coming weeks of my Kiva Fellowship, I’ll try to support them by sampling as many of their products as I can.  And maybe next winter, when I can’t feel my fingertips after a long skate, the scent of a beavertail will momentarily transport me back to tropical Tanzania and memories of maandazi.

Sara Strawczynski finished her first Kiva Fellowship in Rwanda, and is now serving (and eating) as a Kiva Fellow  in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.  Consider making a loan to a Tanzanian entrepreneur here, and check back often for more opportunities.

As my fellowship draws to a close, I would like to contribute my last post to a tradition set by past Tanzanian Kiva Fellows.  There is something unique about the country that fellows have been compelled to share.  Alec Lovett (a KF4 and my interviewer!) first started the series “You know you are in Tanzania when…” back in 2008 and later added a Vol 2.  Jara Small (KF5) brilliantly added her observations and wrote Vol 3.   In my 90 days here, I’ve been privy to witness some of the unique characteristics of Tanzania and its inhabitants. So here goes Vol 4… Enjoy!

You know you are in Tanzania when…

1. If you are Asian, you’ll either get called “mchina mchina!” or “hua hee hor” + flying kick because everyone assumes you know kung fu.
2. You feel so good finding a bajaji (a motor rickshaw) because it’s about a few dollars cheaper than a taxi.
3. A normal dish includes 3 pieces of meat, a sprinkle of veggies and rice, bananas, potatoes, ugali (maize flour) and possibly three other types of carbs.
4. You get this great pickup line pretty often: “Do you have a guy? Are you married? Want to marry me?”
5. No matter how much weight you’ve gained eating fried chicken and fries, you will be told to eat more.
6. You will get stuck with a lot of sweaty money because they were just fished out of someone’s undergarments
7. You learn to pop a bottle cap using the edge of a table and a swish of your fist
8. You know it’s futile to fight your way into a dalla dalla (local bus) and should just wait for the 50 hands in the crowd behind you to push you in
9. You start obsessing over good bed nets.
10. You realize how fast 90 days can go by and within those 90 days, how many friends you can make, how many wonders you can see and how you can make a lasting connection with a place you once only dreamed about.

p.s. Happy 2010!

The Blue Sweater is a book that recounts the experiences of Jacqueline Novogratz, social venturer and founder of the Acumen Fund. The book contains a string of stories, but the most poignant is the tale behind the title of the book. When she was young, her uncle gave her a blue sweater, which she eventually outgrew and donated away. It would turn out that the journeys of Novogratz and the blue sweater would eventually cross paths a decade later in Rwanda – She, jogging along the dusty roads of Rwanda and it, covering the small frame of an African boy.

A few weeks ago, I had my own “blue sweater” moment. I was in the Mbagala community collecting journal updates when I spotted Salehe sitting nondescriptly behind 30 other people. He would have been no different than any of the other YOSEFO clients there, except for the fact that he was sporting a dark blue cap with a large “V” in front. Instinctively I rushed over and, as I had suspected, two swords crossed over it, creating the symbol for the University of Virginia. I went to UVa, and I could not help think of the fellow student who discarded his old cap and whether if he ever thought it was going to end up as a prized possession of a Tanzanian boy. Unlike Jacquline’s blue sweater, the cap was not mine. Nevertheless, it did not fail to create a sense of wonder that in a world so vast, such a connection could be made.

A rare few will have a story like Jacqueline’s. But for those who do not have the opportunity to travel far and wide, there is Kiva. I love this organization because it allows anyone to experience a connection, a small “blue sweater” moment. In fact, it does one better. The incident revealed to Jacqueline how “our actions – and inaction – touch people we may never know and never meet across the globe”. But through Kiva, we can see who we are impacting halfway around the world. And though we may never physically meet our borrowers, the amazing journals posted by Kiva Fellows open the doors into the lives of microfinance clients all over the world.

I hope during this season, all lenders can experience and celebrate moments of connection. Happy holidays!

The first time I got shoved out of the way in a mad rush to the dala-dala bus, my friend Victor said to me, “This is the local local lifestyle, pole sana–I’m very sorry.” The next time he said it was when the electricity went out and I was reading in the living room. “This is the local local, pole dada–sorry sister.” Then again when I had Malaria: “The Tanzania local local, pole sana, pole sana.” In the streets, when Tanzanians are shouting to me, “Mchina, mchina!” Chinese person, chinese person! : “They are local local, they cannot tell you are Korean. Pole.” And every time, he smiles his big smile, apologetic, almost wistful, partly amused, always sincere.

I have also started to think to myself, “local local,” several times each day. We haven’t had water for the past eight days because of a broken water pump, so we fetch bucketfuls from next door. Tanzania is suffering from a major power crisis, so electricity is rationed. Ours goes out for a full day once every three days. I get up at five every morning to catch the dala-dala before the major traffic jams so I can get to work by eight. I see one bus that says on the back, “Don’t Hide, Just Pay,” another claims “Jesus is Power,” and a third “Blootooth On.” “Local local,” I think.

I myself am becoming more and more local local. I bought a kanga the other day, a long sheet of patterned fabric that is cut in half and worn around the waist and draped or wrapped over the shoulders. I sleep in it and wear it around the house. I’m also starting to think and speak in Tanzanian English. I have started to say things like, “this here pen” and “I live some few miles away.” When I want to say “etc.,” or “and so on,” it’s “and this, this, this.” When saying that someone went on and on (as in blah, blah blah), it’s “he said, ‘You are wrong,’ and what, what, what.” One of my favorites is “I feel to relax,” or “I feel to go to the store.” And not only have I started to speak like this, these phrases make perfect sense to me, have a charm and character of their own.

My Swahili is improving, too. This past week I went into the field to interview two Kiva clients who were filmed about five months ago for a documentary for BBC World. The film crew is returning soon to shoot follow-up segments on the same borrowers. With help from Rita, the Kiva Coordinator, I was able to ask a majority of the questions about Atuna and Neema’s businesses. While I don’t want to give away details of what will be in the film, I will say that I was humbled and inspired by both of these women. They are shrewd business owners, caring mothers, and true bread-winners. When one endeavor doesn’t work out–cassava crops fail, it’s too hard to turn a profit running a pharmacy–they adapt, start new businesses, continue without a thought of giving up. They, too, are local local.

At a Rotary event last weekend, a kind Rotarian expressed shock and dismay that I take the dala-dalas to get around. He suggested hiring a private car. At work, my co-workers have urged me not to move in with a Tanzanian family, and instead to “get a nice apartment for mzungu.” I even got an email today from the U.S. Embassy warning foreigners against living in unguarded homes and taking taxis and dala-dalas for transport because they are “frequently overcrowded, poorly maintained, a common site of petty theft, and [their] operation is generally unsafe.”

I don’t want to be reckless or unappreciative to those who are looking out for me–but here’s the honest truth: I love the local local. It’s not always easy, and much of the time it’s very hard. I’m on the edge of exhaustion, I’m sunburnt and hungry, but I am also supremely happy. I can get a mango or an avocado for 50 cents at the Mombasa market down the street. I can fight my way onto a dala-dala like any Tanzanian, and I’ve come to enjoy the nearly four hours I spend a day on those “overcrowded, poorly-maintained” vessels because they give me time to think, to listen, to watch, to become daily more a part of the world around me. Children shouting “Hello-madam-how-are-you-I-am-fine!” in one breath, sleeping outside on the porch during an afternoon rain, eating in the dark at one of the many small canteens around the city, perfecting the bucket shower, taking clean clothes down from the line, this is the local local. Friendliness, generosity, grit, patience, hope. These are the local local.

I am learning hard lessons the easy way. That is, I am doing something I love, that I believe in, and for that reason it is worth every moment of sweaty, dust-caked fatigue, of anger at the world’s injustices, of fear that change is hard to come by. I’m living for a while a faint imitation of what millions live every day, for their entire lives. And what I’ve found is that poverty is cruel, but human dignity, ingenuity, and heart are persistent, unafraid. This gives me hope, conviction, and a fierce pride in how strong people can be despite their circumstances. So here’s to that strength. Here’s to the local local.

*********

Rebecca Corey is a Kiva Fellow in Dar es Salaam with Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd. See Tujijenge’s currently fundraising loans here, and join the Tujijenge lending team! Also, remember that the holiday season is coming up, and Kiva.org gift certificates make wonderful presents!

YOSEFO has come a long way.  In 1997, it humbly opened its doors to 50 clients, for a total loan portfolio size of $5000.  However, with unwavering determination, it has succesfully expanded into 14 different communities around Dar es Salaam and has opened offices in Ifakara, Zanzibar, Kilwa and Tanga.  Today, YOSEFO can proudly claim to serve over 11,000 active clients and has seen its loan portfolio increase to $1.5m. This is definitely something to celebrate about, and celebrate we did!  To mark 12 successful years of serving Tanzania, my MFI decided to organize YOSEFO Day 2009.  

The purpose of the celebration was not only about rejoicing, it was also about recognition.   It was about acknowledging the outstanding clients and staff members that have played a significant role in making the past dozen years successful.   Recognition is important because the sweat and tears of both clients and staff often go unnoticed. Furthermore, the showcasing of successful stories will hopefully create a competitive spirit that will drive everyone to strive for more.  

Here are some highlights of YOSEFO Day 2009…

Best Borrower - Deogratius Likunga

Mr. Likunga is one of YOSEFO’s  earliest clients.  His group applied for their first loan in 1997.  Due to his excellent repayment history, he was eventually able to graduate from the group lending method to the individual lending method.  His loan sizes are much larger than the average YOSEFO client, yet he still maintains a spotless repayment record.   And his dedication to being a terrifc client has paid off, his hardware business is doing better than ever.

Best Entrepreneur – Anold Peter Kavishe

Anold left Moshi to come to Dar es Salaam to work as a servant boy.  But by age 19, his entrepreneurial spirit told him to strike it on his own.  In 1998, he took out his first loan with YOSEFO.  Anold now owns a few businesses, including a retail store and a wholesale store.  Furthermore, he is able to employ 17 workers and thus create jobs for others in his community.

Best Credit Officer – Ashama

The job of a credit officer is painstakingly difficult, each day he or she needs to spend hours in the communities.  Ashama is the only officer to cover two communities (Kitunda and Mazizini).  With 554 clients to see each week, she has gone above and beyond to serve everyone.

The award ceremony showcased the amazing possibilities of microfinance as well as the hard work needed to transform those possibilities into realities.  Above all, it was a chance for every shareholder – management, officers, clients, board of directors and partners – to come together and get revitalized for many more great years ahead.

My name is Jen Gong and I will be spending a few months at YOSEFO, a Kiva field partner in Tanzania.  I arrived in Dar Es Salaam about 2 weeks ago and here is my first entry…

the YOSEFO CREW!

There is something enchanting about Tanzania.  Most travelers would say the charm is in landscape.  And without a doubt there is much to behold here.  I have not yet wadded in the turquoise waters of Zanzibar, climbed to the top of Kilimanjaro or spotted the exotic creatures of the Serengeti, but flying into Dar Es Salaam itself was a treat.  I wish I took a photo of how the tin roofs sparkled like stars against the blue Indian Ocean. 

But for those who have spent a little more time here and immersed themselves in the local culture, they will claim the charm is in the people.   Tanzanians are colorful, diverse and warm.  When my coworkers held a meeting to discuss about the upcoming marriage celebration of one of the credit officers, I was asked to be involved because they said “<I am> now a part of the YOSEFO family”.  My host family of three sisters, treat me like their own dada (sister in Swahili), and have been generously teaching me Swahili and Tanzanian cooking.

Nevertheless, the country suffers from the same woes of similar developing nations.  Because Tanzania depends on hydroelectric power, recent droughts have caused both water rationing and power outages to occur.  Infrastructure has not kept up to pace with the burgeoning population and has led to extremely bad traffic during rush hours.  And the abject poverty in which some communities live can be heart wrenching.

I have just started meeting clients in the field and have been observing Kiva processes at YOSEFO.  I hope to bring everyone more stories about the impact of Kiva loans on both clients and MFI.  In the mean time, please enjoy some pictures of this charming place!

 Credit officer Emmanuel collecting money in the Mbagala Community:

Client “Mama” Showing off her Vegetable Stall in Charambe District (and Me):

Kiva Lender, Ed Skoch, and I listening to credit officer Lazaro explaining the collection process at Buguruni Community

After my first day interacting with Kiva borrowers I was exhausted but exhilarated. It was slow work, waiting while the money for the loans was counted out and matched with each client’s loan record booklet, paperwork was filled out, treasurer and secretary books were gathered. Outside the Tujijenge branch office in the heart of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, members of loan groups languished in the sun, clothes bright against the dusty ground. I glanced out of the window from time to time to watch them and try to guess what each group had named itself.

At Tujijenge Tanzania, most of the loans are given to groups. Each group consists of 15-40 members, who are split into sub-groups of 5-7, whose members act as guarantors of each others loans. For many poor borrowers, the group’s guarantee is the only collateral they can offer. The social pressure from the group is a major deterrent to delinquency and default, along with the hope for future loans. After a group is approved by Tujijenge, they have one month of business and microfinance training by loan officers. At this time, their information and photos are collected, they elect group leaders, a secretary, and treasurer, and they get to choose a name. Many of them convey a sense of national pride (like “Kilimanjaro” or “Mungu Ibariki Tanzania”–God bless Tanzania), but as you can imagine, these names go fast. So there are also groups like “red rose,” “lion,” and “peace.” Soon, even names like these are gone. So groups pop up named “flag” or “Bob Marley” or “Ferarri”. One of my favorite groups was called “Parachichi,” which means “avocado” in Kiswahili. I loved this little bit of trivia so much that I included it in the business profile for the group on Kiva.org. The other group we worked with that day called itself “Sigara.” I didn’t have time to ask what this meant, but leaving work that day I asked a friend. “Ah, yes, sigara! It means ‘cigarette.’” I recalled my interview with the elected leader of Sigara group, a tall and slender woman with large eyes who held her child in the lap of her green dress as she told me about her shop, her monthly profits, her hours, and saving for her children’s education. I wondered if it was her idea to name the group ‘Cigarette.’

I remember laughing the first time I heard a pop song on the radio with the refrain “Malaria, malaria, ohhh, malaria.” The grim, the dirty, the ordinary, seemed out of place in a hit song, just as the name “cigarette” seems such an odd choice for a group of entrepreneurs using enterprise as a way out of poverty. But what I am learning daily is that it is in our greatest pursuits that the rough-and-tumble of daily life is most relevant. The abstractions I want to paint in broad strokes across life and work in Tanzania would whitewash away the raw, rich, bursting colors, textures, smells, and truths of this place. The ordinary avocado, the cigarette… why should I disdain them? And why should I laugh to hear a pop song about Malaria?

For the first week of my time here in Dar es Salaam, I went through culture-shock lite. At first, I felt like I had finally come home. Back to the country that had carved a place in my heart when I volunteered in Bagamoyo, Tanzania in 2007 as an undergraduate. Then came the ache and pang of realizing that Dar es Salaam is not Bagamoyo, a sleepy historical beach town with one paved road. It is not where I will spend days with children curled in my lap or twisting my hair. It is not where I will go to the beach every day for two hours of swimming. It is where I will work and study and jam myself into buses and choke on dust and smoke, and sweat it out with no ocean breeze. I began to notice faces in the crowds around me that looked familiar. That one looks like Omari. That one looks like Sophie. That one looks like Abduri, Yona, Warda… The beauties of Bagamoyo, my students, my children, but grown up and hardened, selling water for 20 cents a bottle between speeding buses that have no regard for life or trudging down the highway with one hundred pounds of grain on his shoulders, or digging a ditch, or even waiting outside at Tujijenge for 2 hours to receive a 50 dollar loan to buy some more cassava for a small vegetable stand. Even this was not the dream I had for those children. And I saw their faces everywhere.

I didn’t want to admit it, I don’t want to still, but I wasn’t prepared for the sadness that settled around my shoulders and in the pit of my stomach like a stone. I know microfinance is only one tool out of many to alleviate poverty. I know it is a slow-rolling stone. I know development itself is incremental and unwieldy. But isn’t it easy to desire passionately a better world right now? Who suffers from a fever and relaxes knowing it will break eventually? Who looks at an open wound and doesn’t want it closed immediately? But not only did I balk at the idea of slow change… I looked around and didn’t see potential for any change at all. And it had to get worse before it could get any better.

After my third day at work, I came down with an extremely high fever. The next day I went to the small clinic near our house and it was confirmed. Malaria. And not just one malaria, they told me. “Two Malaria”. “I don’t understand.” “You have two malaria. Two parasites.” I struggled to understand. Finally, I got it. Not one, but two strains of malaria. At once. Just my luck. Last week passed in a haze of fevers and chills, exhaustion, tears, rants, swallowing pills, rejecting food, and, most of all, sleeping. I have never felt so completely incapable of movement. Every muscle in my body refused to move. I would stare at a glass of water a foot away and not be able to convince my hand to reach for it. I am ashamed, but I wanted to give up. I wanted to pack my things, take a taxi to the airport, and just go home.

But I didn’t. And now I’m better. I wake up to the sound of the dawn call to prayer. I ride the buses to work with children going to school in their uniforms, and people going to work. Today, a little boy asked to wear my red sunglasses. He put them on, grinned sheepishly, then gave them back to me quickly, his laugh so bright and pure and sweet. Jimmy Kunjombe, the director of the school in Bagamoyo, visited me when I was sick and he was in town for a medical treatment. He told me about everyone there… his wife and son, the neighbors, the kids at school. Most of the students I worked with have graduated primary school and are now off in first or second grade. He reports that they are doing well in school and making good grades. When I greet the borrowers at Tujijenge, I say, “Shikamoni,” my respects… They accept them and grin at the strange visitor in front of them, always delighted that I know a little Kiswahili. They joke among themselves, “Ah, this Chinese person knows Kiswahili! Why? Why would she come here and talk to us?” Then their thoughts leave me, and they become business people again. They concentrate on their loans, counting the money to make sure it is all there, signing papers, reading the loan contract aloud to one another. Sometimes I draw a spot of ink onto a client’s thumb so she can “sign” for his money. I want to answer their question: Why would I come here to talk to them? Because their bravery is of the most noble and humble sort. They work and endure, without expecting an instant fix. “Get-rich-quick” is not an option. They know tomorrow and the next day and the next may not be any easier than today, but they persevere. They battle through Malaria, and worse. They are business people, entrepreneurs, innovators. They are working for their children, for all children to come.

Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd. is a microfinance institution based in Dar es Salaam Tanzania. To see their currently fundraising loans, please click here!

I’m sitting in terminal three at Dubai’s International Airport. The moving sidewalk beside me sounds like horses trotting on a packed dirt road. Since my 14-hour layover began a several hours ago, I’ve heard the Islamic call-to-prayer twice over the airport intercom system, followed soon after with enticing invitations to browse the duty-free shops that run down the center of the terminal. I should be sleeping, re-setting my internal clock, but the fluorescent lights and ribbons of Arabic that stream from the ceiling won’t let me rest.

Hi, my name is Rebecca Elizabeth Yeong Ae Corey, and I am a member of the Kiva Fellows Program’s 9th class. I trained for a week in San Francisco, had two days to pack up my bags and say my goodbyes in my hometown of Athens, Georgia, and now I am headed for Tanzania. Once I get to Dar es Salaam, I will settle into a homestay and begin work at Tujijenge Tanzania, Ltd., one of Kiva’s field partner MFI’s. I’m en route. I am Tanzania bound. 

Tanzania bound. This is one easy way of saying where I’m headed, my destination. But, being an English major in college and the daughter of a poet, my head immediately spins with what other meanings these words might bear.

So what does it mean to be bound?

Oh you absolutely are, you say?

Well, you’re in luck. There is a BRAC Tanzania Lending Team on Kiva.org that you can join and be surrounded by fellow BRAC Tanzania enthusiasts! We only have 8 members right now, so you should really go to the site, join the lending team and help our BRAC Tanzania Lending Team grow to be as massive as BRAC itself!

Thanks to those 8 people who have joined and together already made 6 loans toTanzanian women!

A BRAC Tanzania borrower makes a loan repayment in Zanzibar

Sarah Forbes was a KF6 in Kenya with K-MET and is now serving her KF7/8 placements with BRAC Tanzania. She is clearly very excited about the new BRAC Tanzania Lending Team. You should join, so she’ll stop harassing you about it.

There is another kind of risk though; one that I think some of you may be familiar with. That’s right, it’s Risk, as in epic board game, world domination style Risk.

I have been thinking about this particular kind of Risk lately due to the fact that while working with the Kiva field partner BRAC, I cannot escape how much the organization makes me think of the game, with its trademark little army men taking control of continents and sweeping across the globe in the attempt to gain complete domination of the two dimensional board game-world.

Only in BRAC’s case, the army is not little plastic figures, but a human, benevolent BRAC army of Bangladeshis, Afghanis, Sri Lankans, Pakistanis, Southern Sudanese, Ugandans, and Tanzanians. And this is just the beginning – the army is growing, sweeping the globe, out to conquer the poverty of the world, one country at a time.

The figures in green represent BRAC, those in red...poverty.

Okay, my analogy may be getting out of hand at this point. “Out to conquer the poverty of the world” is definitely too melodramatic, but the quantity and quality of BRAC’s global work to improve the lives of those living in poverty is undeniably striking.

Created in 1972 as a small-scale relief and rehabilitation project that was designed as a response to the consequences of the liberation war in Bangladesh, BRAC has since evolved into the largest southern NGO in the world.

With its programs in Asia and Africa, BRAC provides services to more than 110 million people. These services include: microfinance, health, water and sanitation, education, adolescent education and life skills, agriculture, livestock, and other social development programs.

Poverty is a simple word for a complex beast – BRAC works to improve the quality of people’s lives using a holistic approach, with strategically linked programs that address the causes of poverty from multiple angles. This might mean that within a microfinance group, there will be a health worker providing medical supplies for her group members or that down the street from a microfinance meeting a client’s daughter will be learning about gender issues at an adolescent club.

BRAC focuses on empowering women through these development programs, viewing women as crucial agents of change who will be the ones to lead their families out of intergenerational poverty.

Two BRAC Tanzania loan officers head out in the early morning to meet their borrower groups

Not only are women the target population for these programs, but women are also the primary workforce behind them.  BRAC employs more than 120,000 people worldwide, the majority of whom are women. They are the real life Risk-style BRAC army. From microfinance area managers, branch managers, and loan officers to agricultural workers to health program coordinators to adolescent club mentors, women are the driving force behind BRAC’s work in underdeveloped countries.

There are also dedicated men involved. BRAC’s head management is staffed by development experts from Bangladesh, men who move to the targeted country for a period of 2 to 3 years in order to implement the programs and train staff to run them. Agriculture and livestock program staffs are also often men, and male guards at the offices provide valuable work to the security of BRAC’s operations.

Together, these hardworking BRAC employees spread out across countries, opening branch offices and providing valuable services to citizens who have, until now, lived outside of the reach of other means of assistance.

I served my KF6 Fellowship at K-MET in Kenya, now I am in Tanzania working with BRAC. Moving from a one (albeit super-) man operation to the 85 office strong (and growing) BRAC operation in Tanzania has definitely been an eye opener in terms of scale.

A borrower group sits in the BRAC required U-shape seating formation (with near military like precision) on a mat in rural Zanzibar. Borrower groups meet once a week to make loan repayments and apply for loans. The group (of 20-40 women) is subdivided into small groups of 5. Each small group member acts as a guarantor of her group members's loans - if one of the small group members fails to pay, the other four are responsible for the payment.

BRAC Tanzania employs more than 800 (77% of whom are women) Tanzanians and reaches over 750,000 citizens across the country. Starting in June 2006, BRAC has expanded from one office to approximately 85 (I say approximately because they seem to be multiplying overnight of their own accord – it’s hard to keep track), reaching people in poverty in 17 out of the 26 regions in Tanzania. Over 80,000 women borrowers attend group meetings each week.

As BRAC Tanzania continues to grow, its relationship with Kiva plays an increasingly important role. Though BRAC has an Africa Loan Fund that provides funding for many of their programs, and the microfinance program itself is largely self-sustaining, the organization continues to want to diversify their funding avenues. Kiva’s  loans are a great way to continue to scale up their programs, enabling them to provide even more Tanzanian women with access to credit.

It is in this way that, you, the lenders, can become a part of the great BRAC army. Welcome. Make a loan to a BRAC Tanzania borrower today. Be a part of opening the door to financial services to women across Tanzania. And with the borrower group guarantee, it’s not even a little bit risky.

Sarah Forbes worked as a KF6 with K-MET in Kenya. She is now serving her KF7 and KF8 terms with BRAC in Tanzania. Unfortunately, she has never actually played the game Risk.

Small moments compensate for unpleasant hours. A coworker’s delight at a weak attempt at their local language can be contagious. The look of recognition on the faces of loan officers to whom I just presented a new template keeps me going for days. And the shy request by a client to have a picture taken with me makes me feel that my presence is appreciated.

On top of the ups and downs of the day-to-day, though, there is another secret to my contentment: the Kiva Fellows. In ways both tiny and massive, unexpected and enormously appreciated, having a virtual community of fellows makes my life infinitely better. During training in June, I left four days at Kiva HQ disappointed that after meeting so many fascinating and fun people I would ultimately embark on this fellowship solo. I only wished we could all be placed at the same MFI. Kiva said no—that would sort of defeat the purpose. Time and again, however, I’ve been able to turn to them for all manner of support despite great distances between us.

Three Fellows (Zack, Nabomita, and me) in Mombasa, Kenya--brainstorming about Kiva and how to save the world

Not sure how to shrink a photo? Wondering if anyone has an effective training Power Point presentation? Curious about coping mechanisms for language barriers? For all manner of information—from the recreational to the professional—fellows have proven to be an essential resource.

And as it turns out, Kiva has good judgment. As my Fellows class, KF5, has gradually finished up in the field, I despaired that I’d be left alone without my network of compatriots. I was entirely wrong. When I risked deportation from Tanzania, I was able to call on a KF6 and stay with her in Kenya for a week—all arranged having never met. From there I went on to intrude on another Kiva Fellow whose acquaintance I had never made but who quickly became an indispensable friend. The prospect of Christmas and New Years alone in Africa was depressing so three KF6ers and I ignored the fact that we did not know each other and made plans to travel Africa together to be in the company of people whom we knew would soon be friends.

On the job in Kisumu, Kenya--I met and stayed with Sarah

New Year's in Kigali, Rwanda--in the good company of Fellows Ankush and Sarah

Whether it’s crossing African borders to see one another or participating in email chains that gain momentum and garner nearly 50 responses from fellows in the same boat, I couldn’t live without the other fellows. It’s possible that I’ll never actually be in the same room as some of the fellows with whom I’ve been in frequent correspondence. Others I’m quite sure will persuade me to cross one or more countries just to see them again. Whether in Cameroon or Cambodia, Bolivia or Tanzania the fellows play a significant role both in helping me to get through the day and in helping me to add the most possible value to Kiva and my microfinance institution placement. There’s nothing like a real, live human resource to advise, commiserate, support, and amuse. Thanks for keeping me sane, fellows!

Jara and I did a joint staff training when we were both placed in Tanzania

Fellows recovering from a hard day's work in Dar es Salaam

To see all of Vision Finance Company’s currently fundraising loans, click here or join the Vision Finance Company lending team.

Julie Ross is currently serving as a Kiva Fellow at Vision Finance Company in Rwanda. In December she completed her first placement with BRAC Tanzania.

If I had to sum up what I have learned in this experience, it is to be patient and flexible (well, as much as my Type A personality will allow!).  Working on an internet based system when internet is haphazard and sometimes non-existent for periods of up to 2 weeks, one has to be patient and flexible.  Having malaria far from one’s home base and still having to achieve certain goals in a short period of time, one has to be patient and flexible.  Driving for up to 2 hours, swerving through traffic on the main roads and then trying not to smash one’s head on the roof top on some of the bumpiest dirt roads I have ever seen only to arrive to a location to find the client you are looking for not there, one has to be patient and flexible.  Trying to make sure when journaling that information does not get lost in translation (sometimes the client will talk very expressively for 10 minutes and the Kiva Coordinator will simply tell me the client is doing well), one has to be patient and flexible.  Understanding SELFINA’s capabilities and the Kiva requirements and making that relationship sustainable, one has to be patient and flexible.

Without a doubt, this experience has been very unique and inspiring.  Being invited to these women’s (SELFINA makes loans only to women in order to empower them in society) business and homes and learning about their struggles and their future dreams and plans has given me a peek at the strength and potential Tanzania possesses.

It has truly been an honor.

I had been looking forward to going to the southern city of Mbeya even before I arrived in Tanzania. Mbeya is known for it’s cooler climate and lush vegetation. So when it turned out that SELFINA had branches in Mbeya and the surrounding areas and that journaling needed to implemented in those branches I enthusiastically bought my ticket for a 12 hour bus ride that would take me there.

The first few days were great! I was teaching them how to conduct, write and post journals and everything was rolling according to plan. Then, one morning I woke up with a mind splitting headache, severe eye pain, and flashes of fever and chills. I had no idea what was wrong with me. I honestly thought it was from being surrounded by electronic devices too much. I was thinking to myself, I should have listened to my mother and not have sat at so close to the tv screen all those year, should have taken more breaks to rest my eyes at work, etc. The pain was so severe that I broke down in tears just climbing the stairs to my room …

But as I had no idea what was wrong with me, I proceeded to go to work like it was any other day. I had mentioned to a couple of people at the office I had a huge headache but did not make a big deal about it. I proceeded with my day and taught one of the branch managers from a nearby region the process of conducting journal surveys. After completing the training I had to excuse myself, as the pain was too much bear. I had contacted some friends who advised me that it may be malaria, which I thought would be impossible for me to get as I was taking anti-malarial dugs and spraying myself with deet every day. I found myself walking to a nearby dispensary down the road from where I was staying to get tested for malaria, in my mind, to cross that off the list of things I did not have.

In the front was a pharmacy and they escorted me to a room in the back where there was a doctor sitting at a desk in a bare off-white room texting on his phone. I sat down next to him and told him my symptoms, he took my blood pressure, and he advised me it was probably malaria, however, they would need to test my blood to confirm. I thought that was a very good sign and a vote for confidence for this place. He then proceeded to inform me that the blood test would not be performed until later that evening or the next day as there was no electricity to run the test. Mbeya and the surrounding region was in its second week of no electricity due to a transformer room blowing up at the one and only electricity provider in the country (in the SELFINA Mbeya office, we were lucky to have a generator to use during the day).

As I have no medical background, I of course had my concerns. I probably asked this man 50 times in 50 different ways if my blood specimen would last that long without refrigeration. He reassured me several times that it would be okay and just as they were about to draw blood, the Mbeya SELFINA branch manager, Mr. Kibassa, a bear of a man, barges through the door and tells them to stop.

He apparently learned I went home after not feeling well and went to check up on me at the place I was staying where they informed I had come here to be tested. He basically whisked me away and we arrived at this other clinic, one that happens to have a SELFINA client running the pharmacy, but more importantly to me at the time, solar panels which enable them to run my test now. I go into the cluttered office of the doctor, describe my symptoms again, get my blood pressure taken again, and get sent to a lab of sorts where they try to distract me as they draw my blood (I get quite queasy with needles). 30 minutes later, malaria positive test results in one hand and malaria fighting medicine in the other hand, I leave the clinic happy to know my illness isn’t from an overdose of staring at screens all of my life but something supposedly curable in 3 days.

I wish I could tell you that it was a painless and speedy recovery in 3 days, but it hasn’t been. I still have pain in my head and eye a week later. But I’m trying to take it as easy as possible and think of the positive side of things such as now I can relate a bit more with people here, most of whom have had malaria at least once in their life.

Note: I later learned that the incubation period is about 14 days, so I must have been bitten when I was back in Dar es Salaam

As she settles herself into the chair and rewraps herself in her colorful khangas (traditional Tanzanian cloth with bold and vibrant colors and patterns) we explain that we are would like to spend a few minutes learning how her loans have impacted her life. 

At SELFINA there are a total of 20 questions in total in which we ask every client when we journal, ranging from how much was your loan, to what are your future dreams for your family, to what are your recommendations for SELFINA.  Each journal we conduct lasts about 30 minutes as we take the time to verify the information with the clients file and try to get to know a bit more about these clients.

When we reached to the question, are you married?  She said, “nope, single!”  As I too am single I give her a high-five!  We exchanged a bunch of laughter and she then informed me that she is actually getting married soon and invited me to wedding.

But it wasn’t her being single that I decided to write about her (although her being 36 and still single is something that is a bit out of the Tanzania norm), it was about her story, her entrepreneurship that touched me. 

Rebeca had first heard about SELFINA in the market place a few years back and she had encouraged her friends to go and take out a loan.  After 5 of her friends successfully took out loans, she decided it was now her turn.  Rebeca used her first loan to pay for classes on how to make cakes.  Prior to the loan she knew how to make a standard type of cake, but nothing special.  After, she knew how to make a wide variety of cakes, how to decorate them, and how to market them.  Her cake business took off! 

But was Rebeca satisfied with just making cakes for the rest of her life?  Nope.  She took the extra profits she earned and sent herself to nursing school.  Now her future plan, after her wedding festivities are over, is to open a pharmacy where she can apply her newly gained knowledge yet again to another business.  I am sure this business will do at least as equally as well and I’m interested into what she’ll use her pharmacy profits for.  The sky is really the limit for Rebeca.

But what about her cake business you may ask?  She plans on hiring employees and teaching them how to run that business.  Rebeca is someone to keep your eye on.  She’s definite a mover and a shaker.

After working at FINCA for six years and then earning a Masters degree in the United States, Winnie Terry was well prepared to start a new microfinance organization (MFI). Together with some former colleagues, she opened an MFI in Dar es Salaam known as Tujijenge Tanzania (meaning “build together” in KiSwahili). With Winnie as the managing director, they kicked off in July 2006 and were giving loans to their first groups that November.

When Winnie first learned about microfinance in 1998, her initial reaction was, “that will never work!” But after she started working at FINCA, she found she related well to the women receiving loans and liked this systematic method of offering credit. When opening Tujijenge Tanzania, her and her colleagues were looking to fine-tune the process of offering credit. Even today, Tujijenge isn’t trying to be the largest MFI in Dar es Salaam in terms of clients or portfolio size. Rather, they want to be an MFI of best practices. They work hard to determine the needs of their clients and meet those needs through innovative products. For example, Tujijenge administers debit cards when disbursing a loan instead of handing a client a wad of cash. They believe this hinders the urge to quickly spend the cash on hand, and is safer for the clients and loan officers than carrying cash.

In the next few years, Tujijenge is hoping to expand its outreach and grow its portfolio – but at a sustainable pace. In 2009, Tujijenge intends to open a second branch in Mtwara. Just north of the Mozambican border, Mtwara is a rural area where there is little or no access to credit.

When speaking with her, Winnie stressed the importance of being a transparent and honest MFI. To Winnie, working for a transparent and honest organization is more important than anything else. When I heard this, I immediately thought about the importance Kiva places on transparency. Perhaps this underlying principal of transparency is why Kiva and Tujijenge Tanzania are such great partners!

To see loans currently being fundraised by Tujijenge Tanzania, click here.

Several weeks ago I spent three weeks traveling north to train 7 of BRAC Tanzania’s branches on how to implement Kiva (for a synopsis, see summaries, part 1 and part 2). Yesterday, I finally saw the fruits of my labor. Allow me to give you some background:

BRAC Tanzania has more than 65 branches throughout the country, and that number is constantly growing. Right now, only a handful of those branches actually “do” Kiva. What that means is that only a select number of the branches have been trained on what Kiva is and how to produce the business profiles that are found on the Kiva website. When I travelled to 7 of the branches in September, I did so to train the Community Organizers and Branch Managers at those branches so that they could begin to produce Kiva business profiles. The goal was that after I left, they would be self-sufficient in the Kiva process and able to complete business profile templates with their groups and take the accompanying photo.  An added bonus would be if the pictures were interesting and the forms contained more detail.

For those of you unfamiliar with BRAC on Kiva, a picture like this has been the norm:

Typcal BRAC Kiva Business Profile Picture

In addition, the descriptions are historically brief and lacking in colorful details.  After arriving here I realized there’s very good reason for that: BRAC has more than 100,000 clients throughout the country, and more than 2,300 groups on Kiva.  The staff is extremely busy and has a lot of paper work to fill out, of which the Kiva Business Profile Template is just one piece.  When I first arrived here, I spent quite a bit of time ascertaining how l could create a template that produced more interesting profiles for Kiva lenders without demanding more time from the BRAC staff.

What I came up with were a few multiple choice questions and a bit of clarification on existing questions.  I tested the forms in the field to see where the staff got confused (the forms are in English but the level of English spoken by each CO varies), which questions clients had difficulty answering (for example, listing the ages of their children is no easy task), and which blanks were likely to be filled by something generic (i.e. the loan will be used “to expand her business”).  I revised the BRAC-Kiva template based on all of these observations, and I still consider it a work in progress.

Waiting to receive the first batch of profiles from the branches I trained has been like waiting to receive exam results; I was dying to know how I’d done.  To see their finished forms and photos would be my only guage of success or failure.  Yesterday, my waiting finally came to an end as I received profiles from 2 of the 7 branches.  The elation I felt at seeing pictures like this made those three weeks on the road fully worthwhile:

A new-and-improved Kiva Business Profile picture from BRAC Tanzania

Look at the depth, color, and action!

As I hurriedly looked over the forms they completed I was happy to see very few questions left blank (possible if the staff forgets what the question means) and a lot of great, thorough information.  I left the office eagerly looking forward to coming in this morning to begin adding them to the Kiva website.

Unfortunately, the pictures above will never make it to the Kiva website.  What I viewed as a major professional accomplishment turned into a disappointment as I made a frustrating discovery: many of the pictures were not correctly matched with their accompanying form.  During training I tried to convey to the branch offices how important it was that we know which picture goes with which form, but it remained a difficult task.  I explained how to find the picture number on the camera and there were nods of understanding all around, and even demonstrated understanding as I stepped back and watched the staff complete the Kiva process on their own.  But alas, I now have brilliant photos and thorough templates that will never see the light of day.

For an evening, I thought victory was mine, but it seems I did miss something afterall.  This is not a fatal error nor is it irreconcilable.  After a few hours of trying to make sense of the picture numbers, I admitted that I’d have to chalk these ones up to a loss.  I got on the phone with the branch and tried to re-explain the picture number concept, and this time I think I got some traction.  Happily, not every business profile had this issue and I’m hopeful that the next batch I receive will not have this same problem.  To see if my optimism paid off, check out Kiva’s currently fundraising BRAC Tanzania loans.  Now, if I could just find out what happened at those other five branches . . .

I am here in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania to be one of the fellows working at SELFINA (Sero Lease and Finance Ltd.) which was founded by Dr. Victoria Kisyombe in 2002 with the goal of providing Tanzanian women, many of whom are excluded from land and asset ownership due to local customs and traditions, with access to micro-credit.

After a 24 hour journey from San Francisco to Heathrow to Nairobi to Dar Es Salaam, I am greeted by an unfamiliar humidity, but more importantly the also unfamliar but friendly face of Daudi, SELFINA’s driver.  I am actually pleasantly surprised to be met by a neatly dressed man wearing a collared polo and a warm smile with a computer printed sign with my name on it who greets me and guides me to a nice 4wd vehicle.  In all honesty if Freddy Kreuger was waiting for me with a scribbled sign and a broken down car I would have more than happily jumped in after such a long journey.  But I discovered later that the “Freddy greeting” was how it used to be just 2 months ago (minus Daudi looking anything like Freddy Kreuger!).  It is with the help of another volunteer, Claude, that SELFINA is going through some change management to make SELFINA a more welcoming place for customers and visitors.  This is just one of the many changes that SELFINA is working on and I am hoping to learn more about these changes/goals and help in any way I can.

After my bags were placed in the car, we drove through what is to be my new home for the next few months.  Dust, dirt, and dilapitation are prevalent but more surprisingly are the people.  People are everywhere!!  From men seeking refuge under the shade of the trees to brightly dressed women carrying baskets of bananas on their heads alongside the road to children patiently waiting by the corregated metal bus stops to women sweeping the dust on the road with no more protection than the bright orange vests they wear to boys selling everything from water to newspaper to machetes at every intersection to seeing daladalas (mini buses) shoved to the brim with people.  Like I said…people everywhere!

During the “drive,” which really seemed to be a dodging game of sorts from potholes to the crazy daladalas that cut every which way in traffic, I kept mostly quiet as I was transfixed with my new surroundings.  Daudi would interrupt the silence every so often to point and teach me a new word in Swahili.  Our communication was a bit limited as he knows only a little bit of English and I basically only know hello, thank you, and goodbye.  But my favorite interuption was when he asked me if I liked music.  After I replied yes, he more eagerly asked if I liked Ken Rodgers.  After I replied sure, he excitedly popped in a Kenny Rodgers cd and started to sing along to it.  I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to Kenny Rodgers and Daudi as I gathered my first glances of Tanzania, my new home.

Hello Kiva Fans,

A little more than a week ago I was sitting on the plane for the last hour of what had been a 36 hour journey – Boston, New York, Zurich, Nairobi, Dar es Salaam.  I watched as the computer generated plane tracker moved across the Kenya/Tanzania border and tried to steady myself for the new circumstances I was about to enter.

This week, I want to share some of the pleasant surprises – of which there are many.  One of the unfortunate unintended consequences of the dogged, and at times heroic, efforts of many to highlight to suffering on this continent is that it has come to define the African brand.  This is not in any way to minimize the hardships of many, indeed witnessing and hopefully beginning to understand their struggles is in large part why I am here.

The first surprise has been how safe I have felt.  Considering I was dropped quite literally half way around the world, with no arranged ride and only the address of a hotel from a guidebook – this was a welcome discovery!

A past fellow to Tanzania, Alec Lovett, posted two blogs on “You Know You’re in Tanzania When…” I’ve posted the links to his blogs and added volume III with my own observations. Enjoy!

Volume III

1. They say “Hakuna Matata,” which is actually Swahili but it’s still funny.

2. The water stops running in the middle of your shower. (This only applies if you are lucky enough to have running water).

3. You meet someone with a pet monkey.

4. You spend 10 minutes just with greetings.

5. The children point at you and yell “mzungu”.

6. Someone passes you his or her baby to hold in the dala-dala.

7. The dala-dala won’t leave until its full, which means the person on your lap has someone on his or her lap.

8. Half the channels play Bollywood films, which are actually addicting.

9. Women wear crazy colored kangas (traditional fabrics) that don’t match at all.

10. People order beer warm.