by Jed Goldstein, KF9, Uganda

After a 10 hr bus journey to Kihihi from Kampala on bumpy dirt roads, it was Aaron Coplands Rodeo ballet that began to play in my mind as I stepped off the bus and began to explore the town that lay before me. Kihihi is the modern Ugandan version of the wild American west that Copland so effectively captures in his compositions. As I explored a bit, I could not help but compare the roars of dirtbikes rolling down the muddy thoroughfare to the click-clock sound made by a horse’s hooves. The expansiveness of the terrain, combined with the rolling, lush hills and the breathtaking vistas, still unspoiled by mini-malls and super sized wal-marts, is really a sight to be seen.

Kihihi is a small town that lies about 500km Southwest of Kampala. For most of the 1990’s little commerce took place there because of various rebel movements that left the place terribly volatile and unstable. In recent years though, the rebel groups have laid down their arms and the town is now ripe for development. Kihihi has the good fortune of being located between two national parks here in Uganda, one of them featuring climbing lions and the other the majestic Rwenzori Mountain range; additionally its close proximity to the Congo means that the town has the potential to become a major center of trade in Southwestern Uganda. For this reason, Pearl Microfinance, has positioned itself with a branch office in the town to offer financial services to the expanding merchant population here.

Business trips are not simply for enjoyment though and while I was eager to explore  Kihihi, there was work that had to be done. I was given by the Kiva coordinator here at the main-office, Grace, a specific task to perform once I had arrived. My mission was to introduce the office employees in Kihihi to Kiva.org and explain the processes and procedures required to post a loan to the Kiva website. Essentially, what we are trying to do here at Pearl is decentralize our Kiva operations to the branch level. This in turn, will allow for a greater volume of postings on the website and potentially, if things go smoothly, Pearl’s monthly fundraising limit being increased.

So after a brief look around, I stumbled into Kihihi’s Pearl office and was offered warm greetings from all of the local staff members. Again, the “you are welcome’s” were plentiful. With sweaty palms, pretty much sweaty everything in fact, I began the presentation that I had prepared right away. I was a bit nervous about communication barriers—most people do speak English here, but at the same time it is not the first language of many— so I made every effort to speak slowly, clearly and not to over-complicate matters. Everything went quite well and throughout the presentation I could tell the loan officers were engaged because they kept on asking questions, a demonstration to me that they understood what was going on.

After the presentation was complete it was time for the final examination. I alerted the Kihihi staff that I was no longer Jed Goldstein as far as they were concerned, but rather would be playing the fictionalized role of Moses Mwami a local fish seller in town who is looking for a loan (I guess those college acting classes do come in handy sometimes). I then instructed them to ask me the questions found on Pearl’s Kiva questionnaire and to take my picture—all the tasks needed to post a profile on the Kiva website. They passed with flying colors, which meant that it was time for me to go back to Kampala.

The Kihihi team and I take some time to pose for a quick picture

After so much travel time to and from Kihihi on overloaded buses and dangerous dirt roads, I kissed the ground once I finally arrived back in Kampala and then curled into bed for much needed rest. Mission accomplished.

By: Jed Goldstein (KF9, Uganda)

Hi my name is Jed Goldstein and this is my first blog post as a Kiva Fellow. I arrived in Uganda 4 days ago on Saturday afternoon and began work with Pearl Microfinance on Monday. So far I have felt incredibly “welcome.” I surround “welcome” with quotation marks because meeting someone new and introducing yourself in Uganda is a serious act not to be taken lightly.

The first phase of introduction requires a firm handshake and a level of prolonged eye contact. If you are strong enough to make it through the mini staring contest a local Ugandan will offer his/her name followed by the patient, but strong declaration that “you are welcome.” So, considering I have met more Ugandans than I can remember in the past couple of days, I say with confidence that I feel extremely “welcome.”

One of my first tasks as a Kiva Fellow was to deliver a bunch of electronic equipment to local MFI’s. I think in total I transported from the U.S. 16 digital cameras and 2 laptop computers to Kampala with me. Yesterday I began making the delivery rounds and could not believe the warm receptions I received. All of the MFI employees were so grateful to be receiving items that will facilitate their connection with Kiva and better allow them to post business profiles on the website.

While it was great to be treated as mini celebrity when I was delivering the items, my coworker here at Pearl said something very interesting to me as I handed her four cameras. She remarked, “You guys are doing everything— Giving us the food then feeding us.” This statement captured my attention, so I recorded it in my notebook and thought about what exactly she meant for a while. My conclusions (they may be wrong of course) are as follows:

Here in Uganda where 50% of the population lives on less than $1.25 per day, nothing is given and life is a constant struggle to survive. Gifts here are not given or received in vain, but they are appreciated to a level and extent that is hard for me, and I believe many of my fellow Americans, to fully understand. The reason I write of this is to remind Kiva lenders, just how grateful the entrepreneurs, not just in Uganda, but around the world are for their loans. These loans in many cases serve to make that “constant struggle” just a little bit easier.

If you would like to lend to a pearl borrower please follow this link: PEARL’s KIVA PAGE

by Grace Nattoolo , Kiva Coordinator at Pearl Microfinance in Uganda

I know and believe so, that many have been wondering about Grace, and her blog postings. Yes, I have taken some months without blogging but good enough, the interesting stories about the clients’ businesses and social lives still appear on the website for you to read and fund if possible.

Once again, I would like to commend all the fans of Kiva for the wonderful job of supporting and in turn spreading the word.

During my previous visits to the women and men in their lending groups at the various branches of Pearl Microfinance, I realized that many borrowers take loans to cater for their children’s school fees and upkeep. Surely everyone would love to see their children and those that they care for have the best of education and when you go deep into this issue, it’s interesting.

Although this is the case for parents towards their children, some of the borrowers have not attended formal education but are taking the initiative to learn how to write their names and sign alongside them.

Okay, here is what happens:

Whenever a loan is raised on the website, it is expected to disburse and this is the time that the borrowers meet again in their respective groups for each one of them to receive and sign for their loans. To me, considering the long distances these women and men have to trek to get this money, I would consider this a burden but to some of them, it is nothing compared to when they are to be told by the Credit Officers to put a signature on a piece of paper called a “Loan Contract Form” or “Loan Application Form” alongside their names to acknowledge receipt of money.

Below is to explain it further:

But actually to some, it is not their fault that they can’t read and write.

When I was in Mityana recently, I realized that Annet, one of our borrowers, had to ask the Credit Officer for the inkpad to dip her Thumb for a finger print to show that she has received and signed for her money. Then one wonders why a woman who has never attended school strives so hard to ensure that her children go to school. Annet is quick to admit that she has learnt a lesson through a hard way and would never wish for anyone to be denied education. She says that she has 3 children who are all school going and she is happy that they help her manage her finances especially during their holidays.

Other ladies would agree that they can write but only their names and that they learnt this through Adult Education which is common in Uganda today.

Unlike these days where there is Universal Primary and Secondary Education (UPE and USE), finding a school-going child at home will tantamount to a legal proceeding unless that child is sick or on holiday, but those days it was normal for children not to attend school with excuses as lack of school fees, looking after siblings, looking after rice plantations and so on.

Annet strives to ensure that her children have a better future and can be self reliant through education so that the illiterate generation that she grew up in is wiped out completely. She has done this to the extent of sacrificing her marriage to a husband that never wanted her children to go to school because he did not believe in spending where he saw no short term returns. Such is the strong belief that is engulfing most of the entrepreneurs in their struggle to success and Kiva is making all this possible.

By Jaclyn Berfond, Laura Buhler, Alison Carlman, Joel Carlman and Cameron Morris

Last weekend the East African Kiva Fellows delegation descended upon the bustling streets of Kampala, Uganda and the banks of the Nile River for two days of intense knowledge transfer and mild revelry. We spent hours discussing the importance of data validity in performing operational cost analyses and tried to debunk the myth that OpenOffice does not properly save .csv files for uploading repayment information to PA2. We also had a little fun. We left Kampala feeling refreshed and full of ideas to take back to our MFIs.

Now it’s your turn. We are officially issuing a challenge to the other regions (LAC, Asia, Western Africa and Eastern Europe) to prove that you are as united and have as much regional spirit as the East Africans. Excuses will not be tolerated. As Kiva Fellows this is a challenge you should be ready to take on. We did it, so can you. We also made an amazing video documenting our adventure. Check it out!

Jaclyn, Laura, Alison, Joel and Cameron are Kiva Fellows spread out over the East African Region. To read more about their experiences and their MFIs click on their names above.

At the beginning of April, Grace and I began an effort to decentralize the Kiva process at Pearl. This is the formal way of saying that we planned to visit the branches and carry out a training program that would make the Kiva process such that we would no longer be required to rip our skirts, miss spending time with our families and friends and spend 4-8 hours per day bumping along the roads of Uganda in taxis (the minibuses that Grace wrote about in a previous post).

One of places we visited to train!

Before the trainings, most of Pearl’s loans came from three of the branch offices (you can read more about the structure of Pearl on the Partner Page on Kiva’s website): Central, Jinja, and Lugazi.

Central branch is the closest to head office – it takes about 15 minutes to get there on a boda boda. It is in a busy area of Kampala but it serves a huge area around Kampala. Although getting to the office is quick, getting to where the loan is being disbursed can take hours.

Lugazi is about an hour east of Kampala by taxi (that is most days, some days it is more like two hours). Lugazi is a small town but the clients that Pearl serves in that area are often nestled in the countryside around that area.

A Group in the Lugazi Office

Jinja is across the Nile about 2 hours east of Kampala. It used to the in the industrial center of Uganda but now it is a sleepy beautiful area with many far-flung clients.

There have also been occasional loans from 3 additional offices located in Mukono, Mubende, and Mityana. The Mukono field office is in a medium sized town 45 minutes east of Kampala. The loans in the Mukono portfolio are often made to people in the surrounding countryside.

Visiting a borrower in Mukono

The offices in Mubende and Mityana (Mityana is the place I decided the interest rate Pearl charged was reasonable) are the only offices that we post loans from that are west of Kampala. Mubende is a branch office about 2.5 hours northwest of Kampala and Mityana is the field office associated with Mubende and it is about 1.5 hours northwest of Kampala.

Up until this past month, if Grace, the Kiva Coordinator, wanted to post a loan on Kiva’s website she would have to wait to hear about a loan. After hearing about a loan she would make a plan to travel to that site to do an interview and take the photo necessary to post the loan on Kiva’s website.

To be successful, she has to make it in time for the loan disbursement, meaning the moment at which the client or clients actually receive the money. This is because as soon as the clients receive the money they want to get back to work. They will not hang around the office waiting for someone from head office to come interview them.

Making it in time is rarely the problem – more often delays come waiting till the loan is ready to be disbursed. The money from head office needs to be transferred into the correct bank accounts in order for the loan to actually be disbursed. Unfortunately, the central banks often delay the transfer to the branch banks meaning that clients, and Grace, wait around all day for a disbursement that never takes place.

If this is an individual loan, sometimes it is still possible to capture the loan for posting on Kiva’s website, we just have to change the expected disbursement date, but if it is a group loan we will just have to return another day. Many clients wait to hear that the money has reached the disbursement site before coming to collect their portion. Because of this, there will be four or five people in the office waiting to see if the money really comes in. As soon as word goes out that the money is not coming at all the clients present leave and no one else ever comes. If all the members of the group are not present to be photographed we cannot post the loan on the website.

Needless to say, these processes create a bit of frustration for Grace and me.

Thus the trainings. Some wonderful person donated cameras to Kiva. Kiva sent them on to Pearl. Suddenly, we had the resources to empower the branches to capture the loans on their own. We could train 6 branches. We decided that in addition to training branches that we had been posting from like Central, Lugazi, and Mubende, we would train Kayunga, Bushenyi, and Ibanda. Kayunga is about 1.5 hours outside of Kampala and we have posted loans from them a few times.

The hillside in Ibanda

Bushenyi and Ibanda are both about 6 hours west of Kampala and have never before been seen on the Kiva website. These two places are completely different than any part of Uganda I have ever seen. They are unbelievably green, the farms people own are enormous, and the milk is plentiful and so fresh. I made a little slide show that you can view.

The trainings are now complete. We have already received what we are calling loan packages (meaning all the forms necessary to post a loan on Kiva’s website) from many of the trained offices and the staff at the branches are very excited about Kiva. Many of the credit officers will be watching eagerly for comments on their posted loans and reading all the information they can about the people who loan to their clients.

I thrilled about the improvement to the experience you all will be able to have making loans to Pearl clients. I am also thrilled that Grace will be able to work more regular hours allowing her to spend more time with her family (she has two young kids!). And selfishly, I am excited that now I will only need to spend hours of hair raising travel on various forms of public transportation risking my neck (and my skirts) a few times a week rather than every day.

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A photo of me at one of the farms in Ibanda!

~ Stephanie Koczela is in her eleventh week of her posting as a Kiva Fellow at Pearl Microfinance in Uganda. Join the lending team for Pearl for more updates on the borrowers at Pearl and the organization itself! ~

Sometimes, when interviewing the entrepreneurs from Pearl Microfinance, Uganda, I am startled to discover how many businesses they have. They are teachers with a few milk cows on the side, or used clothing salespeople who also keep pigs, or farmers who also raise cassava, matoke, and chickens! These ‘super entrepreneurs’ amaze me, but I am always left wondering why do they choose to have so many businesses. Wouldn’t it be better for them to focus just one? Each cycle they could inject all their loan money into one business and it would take off!

As is typical when I am making observations in a different culture, when I leave my assumptions behind and listen to the people who actually live here, they patiently show me that, of course, they know better…

The Balikyewunya Group

A few weeks back, I met a borrower named Margaret at a group meeting. Margaret told me all about being a furniture materials saleswomen. Where she sells, where she buys, and the profits she makes. She told me that the profit she makes is enough to pay school fees for her children and grandchildren. After telling me about being a furniture materials saleswomen, she told me that with her last loan she had invested in a broiler chicken business! I was really excited for her and she seemed really proud.
After I had finished interviewing Margaret, and Florence the florist (a demonstration of how long we have to wait for the members to gather for the group pictures we post on the Kiva website!), there was still a little time before the official meeting began. Margaret asked me if I wanted to “see her business.”

I love the literal meaning of this question. She was not asking me if I wanted to see her business meaning her office building or some report about her annual returns, she means do I want to come experience her business, do I want to step into the chicken coop.

Margaret with her new chicks!

It smells a bit, which I expected, but I was startled by the amount of energy in the little room. All the chicks were hopping about and peeping at loud as they could. As she started to feed them, I noticed that either these chicks really trusted Margaret, or chicks are smarter than goats.

Goats seem to have decided that, when being fed, the best strategy is for all the goats to try to eat the same exact food at the same exact time. As soon as the farmer throws the first hand full of food, all of the goats form a rugby style scrum, pushing each other and climbing on top of each other to get the food in the middle. They completely ignore any other food that is set down unless the farmer forcibly shows one of them at which point they all pile on top of that food! This is clearly not the best of plans and inevitably, some poor goat is left on the outside of these scrums bleating and hungry! Margaret’s chicks seemed smarter… they (mostly) waited their turn.

I left this visit amused with the chicks and impressed with Margaret’s dual businesses.

Last week I got the chance to visit Margaret again. This time I met Margaret alone, so she showed me all of her businesses. I was surprised that she had more businesses since I remembered that she had already told me about 200+ chickens and a furniture business. Little did I know…

Margaret showed me her farm, where she grows enough food to feed her family, and all any others who might come around. She has enough matoke trees (matoke are the bananas that are used to make the staple food here) on her little plot that if the rains are good, she can sometimes sell her surplus matoke in the markets. She has a number of cows that she uses for milk and a few that she fattens for the meat. She also has a few goats, a few pigs, and a few ducks.

Margaret's other businesses, her farm, one of her cows, and some of her pigs

As we stood on her farm, she explained to me that these home businesses (her farm, cows, pigs, goats, and ducks) together with her furniture business provide enough money for her daily life. She is able to feed her family, buy a few outfits of clothes (this can be a sign of middle class, as the poor often only have one outfit and the very poor may not even buy one for the smallest of their children), pay school fees, pay rent on one of the farming plots that she rents, and have a little pocket money.

If all her daily needs were met by these businesses and her existing business were clearly a huge amount of work, I wondered why she had started a new chicken business?

“The chickens are for when the rains don’t come,” Margaret explained. The rains in Uganda delayed this year. Both of her farming plots produced very little food. She was unable to feed her family and she had none left over for selling. But, she anticipated this and took a loan to start up the chicken business. Because of her profits from her new chicken business, she was able to support her family and she became a critical customer for those people who choose to put all their efforts into their farms instead of having any other businesses.

Brilliant.

PS Look how much her chickens grew!!

With her chicks a few weeks later!

~ Stephanie Koczela is in her seventh week of her posting as a Kiva Fellow at Pearl Microfinance in Uganda. Join the lending team for Pearl for more updates on the borrowers at Pearl and the organization itself! ~

Thank you for all the loans you make to Kiva. As a Kiva Fellow, I get the joy of receiving the gratitude that is truly meant for all of you.

A few weeks back I had the pleasure of meeting Florence Musola at a loan disbursement for the Balikyewunya Borrower’s Group. She was one of the first members to arrive at the meeting, so we were able to carry out a lengthy interview while the other members trickled in. It was fortunate that we got started early because Florence had lots to tell us about being a florist in Kampala, Uganda.

Balikyewunya Group

She started off by explaining that when you work with brides it can be a headache because they are sooo particular. But, it is not just brides who are complicated, she continued, when you are a florist you have to know that people from different religions want specific colors and flowers at their various ceremonies. After making sure we were getting all of this down, she explained in infinite detail that there is a huge difference between a flower arrangement for a center table and one for a side table. Who knew?

The whole interview was far from what I expected when I first started doing Kiva Borrower interviews… I spent half of my time amused at what I imagine are similarities between her clients and floral clients all over the world, and the other half trying to wrap my mind around the concept that I was interviewing an upscale and very knowledgeable florist who happened to be mixed in with the poultry farmers, dairy farmers, and pig farmers of Gayaza (the town where she lives).

Her Shop Sign

Today, I managed to visit Florence at her place of work. (I made a short video during my visit.) Her shop was bustling and busy. It turns out there are many other florists who work out of the same location. The smell of her shop transported me back to the floral shop where I used to buy flowers before high school dances. It was one of those moments where if I had closed my eyes, I could have been in a floral shop anywhere in the world.

While we were there, Florence showed us albums of the work she has done for weddings and birthday parties. Her work is amazing, full of color and creativity beyond what I have ever seen in the USA. Anyone planning to get married, or have any kind of party, in Uganda should definitely hire her!

Some pictures of the flowers she uses in her arrangements

At the end of the visit, she gave me a beautiful red rose. I had had such a wonderful visit, I wished that I had something to give her. Now, writing this, I wish I there was a way to pass my beautiful rose on to all the people who made loans to her. She was giving me the rose because I represent those people and really all the people who make loans to Kiva!

Florence and I (and Grace with the bouquet she bought!)

Although I can’t pass my rose, I really want to pass on the gratitude she expressed. Thanks for making Kiva loans possible for Florence, and for all the poultry farmers, dairy farmers, and pig farmers who may have somewhat less glamorous stories.

Posted in KF7 (Kiva Fellows 7th Class), PEARL Microfinance, Uganda Tagged: Kampala Florists, Kiva, Kiva Fellows, Kiva Fellows in Uganda, Kiva Fellows vist Borrowers, Microfinance in Uganda, Stephanie Koczela, Uganda ]]> http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/2009/04/03/a-rose-from-florence/feed/ 7 Stephanie Balikyewunya Group Her Shop Sign Some Pictures of the Flowers my-rose4 http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/2009/03/27/is-the-interest-rate-too-high-my-perspective-from-the-back-of-a-motorcycle/ http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/2009/03/27/is-the-interest-rate-too-high-my-perspective-from-the-back-of-a-motorcycle/#comments Fri, 27 Mar 2009 09:24:35 +0000 Stephanie http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/?p=3799 ]]>

To understand the interest rate that Pearl Microfinance charges its clients takes more than a brief look at a few numbers.

If you ask someone at Pearl what the interest rate is on Pearl loans, they will tell you “2.5%.” This means that there is a 2.5% per month interest rate. 2.5% interest is charged on the original loan amount rather than the balance remaining – in technical terms this is a flat interest rate rather than a declining interest rate. With a flat interest rate, over in a year, the clients would be charged 30% of the original loan size, and with the declining balance interest rate, they would be charged 16.25% of the original loan size.

These seem like very high numbers, but since the vast majority of the loans that are posted to Kiva’s website have 3 or 4 month loan terms the total interest paid ends up only being between 7.5% and 10%. To me, after a long motorcycle ride last Monday, this seems reasonable.

The Borrowers gather to receive their loans.

On Monday I went to visit the borrowers of Mityana, Uganda. Mityana is a mid-sized town that is about 50 km west of Kampala.

A few minutes after reaching the office, the credit office (CO) who was to take me to the field that day roared up on his motorcycle and came rushing in, very apologetic for not being there to greet me when I arrived. After welcoming me, greeting me, asking after my family, and all the people in Kampala, the CO asked me, “Are you really coming with me to visit the group today?”

This should have been a warning signal of what was to come, but since many Ugandans fear that I will not be able to manage things like carrying my own bag I tend to insist that I can do whatever people are asking of me (yes, this does result in me trying to do things that I definitely can not do – like chop an onion with a dull knife while holding the onion in the palm of your hand, but who can do that?!?).

The CO insisted that we take lunch before going because the place we were going was “very far!” So we took lunch and then sat around in the office waiting for the executive members of the group we were to visit to finish getting the money from the bank. At PEARL, the executive members of the community banking groups are responsible for carrying the cash to and from the groups. While we sat around, I played with the youngest member of the office, the 3 month-old baby of the office assistant.

About 45 minutes later, the CO started preparing me for the journey. He insisted that I wear a huge raincoat that he must borrowed from a local muscle-builder – and a helmet that looked as if it had been through a few crashes. I got on the back his motorcycle, and we set off.

After about 10 minutes on the road, the CO pulled over and asked me if I would sit “like a man.” I was sitting side saddle since I was wearing a long (cream colored) linen skirt, but I feared that he was asking me to sit “like a man” for my safety, so I swallowed my pride, hiked up my skirt, and tried to find a way to throw my leg over the side without traumatizing the children who had gathered to observe the scene.

A view from the road early on.

Usually before getting on the back of any motorcycle I tell the driver – “Mpola mpola – kale?” Which roughly translates into, “Go slowly, ok?” This usually has the effect of making my driver practically fall over since almost no white people who live in Uganda take the time to learn even a few words of Lugandan, but more importantly – it usually does makes the driver go slowly. Since the CO was a co-worker, I did not feel that I could tell him to go slowly – and he did not.

For the next hour, we traveled up and down hills that were at about 45 degree slopes on roads that were not only unpaved but seems to be covered with about 4 inches of dust. There were a few brief periods where I did not fear for my life. Eventually the road flattened out, which meant, much to my dismay, that the CO increased his speed.

Then we came upon the “road repair”…

The “road repair” was an area where HUGE piles of sand, that I am assuming were going to be flattened later, had been dumped in the middle of the road at about 8 foot intervals. The piles were about 6 feet high (I could not see over them), and they spanned the entire width of the road, except about 1 foot on one side – and the side where there was small passable area was not always the same side, which meant that was virtually impossible to continue down the road. The CO tried to drive his bike very slowly, often having to put his feet down and push off the side of the heaps of sand.

We kept almost falling over but the CO seemed unconcerned. I was very concerned.

When my skirt ripped, I was even more concerned, and when the back wheel skidded out beneath me, I got off – that is the graceful way of explaining how I ended up off – and started walking.

We eventually did reach the group (the Lubajja Traders), and it was wonderful. The interviews were fantastic, and the scenery was stunning. There was a school next to where we were meeting was having music class so they were singing and dancing around. This combined with the sight of the lake near by, and smell of the tropical greenery almost made me forget that I would have to make a return journey similar to my first experience…

On the way back to town, the CO seemed to be driving even more recklessly. After almost completely wiping out a few times, we came upon a large obstacle, and I told the CO to stop so that I could walk around it, and he drove off eventually going out of sight…

I wondered if he had misunderstood me. Maybe he thought that I had had enough, and that I thought I could just walk the rest of the way. There was a truck up ahead, maybe he thought I would just try to hitch a ride with the truck. I wondered what exactly I would do if he had left me here to find my own way… I was hours away from town by foot and there was no way I would make it before it was dark.

So… I just kept walking, hoping that he would come back… I walked trying to hold the tear in my, now filthy, skirt closed, with a huge helmet squeaking on my head, sweat soaking through my shirt under my oversized rain coat, and limping slightly since my sandal had broken and cut my foot one the times that we had fallen. From under my helmet, I could still hear the children’s voices calling out, “Bye Mzungu!” and although I knew it would make me look even more crazy – I couldn’t help it – I started laughing out loud. I could not stop laughing. I kept thinking what a funny picture I must have made. I am sure that the story of the Mzungu who thought she needed to wear a helmet to walk in Uganda will be told for weeks.

Then and there I decided that, had there been a way to make a video of that day without killing myself, I would have made the phrase “10% interest” scroll across the bottom of the screen.

The cost of bringing financial services to these borrowers is incredibly high. In addition to the financial and physical cost, the CO’s are incredibly stressed by such work. The CO was clearly exhausted at the end of the day – by the way, he did come back for me and he had found a short cut that allowed us to avoid the “road repair” section – but he missed his evening classes at the university he attends. It is important that the staff at PEARL feels appreciated for the difficult tasks they undertake! 10% interest seems a reasonable charge.

In order to make a judgment about the interest that PEARL charges, it seems you must take a good look at the numbers, meet a lot of borrower groups, and then go for a ** insert an adjective that properly describes the above experience** ride on the back of a motorcycle. Then, and only then, can you begin to understand the complexity of PEARL, at least in terms of interest.

Note: Mzungu is what many people in East Africa call Whites.

~~ Please join the lending team for Pearl Microfinance. Our hope is to use this team to help you connect more to the borrowers, staff, and Kiva Fellows at Pearl Microfinance! Watch the video below to see some of the sights along the roads of Uganda (none of the footage is from my trip to Mityana…)~~

In a previous post, I mentioned that many clients of microfinance pledge real items not just their reputations as collateral on their loans. (Please see “A message from Uganda” for a more in depth discussion of the idea.) A comment was made that asked a few interesting questions. I started to directly reply on the post, but realized that the answers were long and that they might be interesting to others.

(As a side note — those of us who are writing on this Blog love hearing your comments on our postings. Please comment if you are so inspired, especially if you have questions, we would love to write about what you want to know about!)

Before attempting to answer the questions asked, I want to respond to a well-deserved critique that the comment made, which is that the situation that I described is potentially only relevant at Pearl Microfinance Limited where I work. This is totally true.

Kiva Fellows, as people who are trying to understand and evaluate Microfinance as a concept, write about our microfinance institutions and post them on the Kiva Fellows Blog so as to create a group of voices talking about the particulars of our respective institutions. Hopefully, reading this Blog in totality allows people to gain a sense for what Microfinance is like in different countries, and even within the same country at different institutions.

I forget to be careful in my posts to be clear that what I see and observe at Pearl Microfinance may only be the case here. Please consider that stated for the rest of the post.

Grace, the Kiva Coordinator, in front of the Pearl Microfinance field office sign in Lugazi

Ok – on to the questions.

Where does the microfinance institution keep such collateral? I was describing clients who pledge things like sofa sets, cows, goats, and fridges so this is a very relevant question.

(I wish the answer was, “there is a corral in the back of the office where all the animals are kept and a very comfortable lounge with dozens of sofas,” that creates a very amusing visual.)

Pearl Microfinance only seizes the collateral if the client cannot repay. Under these circumstances the client’s bicycle, stove, dish set, stock of chickens, is sold, and the money made off the sale is kept by Pearl. The glitch in this plan is that if clients go into hiding because they are unable to pay, they know that the sale of their possession will be their punishment and thus they run away with all their possessions. This leaves the other thing that they pledged to serve as their collateral – their friends. In the case that the client goes into hiding, the remaining group members are required to pay on behalf of the defaulting client if the defaulting client’s collateral is in hiding as well.

Many of our borrowers here at Pearl have small stands like the ones in this photograph.

(this is rephrased) Do the items pledged have worth that is actually equal to the loan amount?

This is something that is decided by the credit officers at the time of the loan request. When a group loan is requested a credit officer goes and sits with the members. Each member then comes and sits with the credit officer and tells him/her how much they are requesting and what the items they are pledging are. From there, it is up to the credit officer to determine if the value of the proposed items is enough. My impression from conversations that I have had with credit officers and branch accountants is that the worth of the collateral is usually equal to the amount of the loan. If the borrower defaults and the sale of the items does not cover the outstanding balance than it is up to the group members to cover the balance.

Hope that answers the questions!

I am currently pondering is the extension to all of this – Which is that since the microfinance institution that I work with does group loans primarily, the contracts they sign are essentially with groups rather than individuals. Since Pearl earns 10% interest (or 2.5% monthly) on any given loan, and most groups repay the full amount one way or another, Pearl seems in a position to make quite a bit of money off of their loans. It seems like an ugly, although perhaps necessary, set up for the borrowers. They have to cover all the loss but they receive no gain for the excellent credit rating that most of them as groups have.

In many of the business profiles that Pearl posts, we talk about matoke. The green bannana bunches shown here are the main ingredient in this wonderful local dish!

Last week I had my first trip to the field. I traveled with Grace, the Kiva Coordinator here at Pearl Microfinance, to two branches in western Uganda, Lugazi and Jinja. Lugazi is about 2 hours away from the office and Jinja is about 40 minutes down the road and across the Nile from Lugazi.

The area between Kampala and these two areas looks shockingly like New England. Having spent many of my summers driving through the wooded areas of New Hampshire and Massachusetts, I found myself drifting back to blueberry pancakes for breakfast as I sat sweating from the heat and close proximity to other passengers on our crowded bus.

All reference to similarities between what I would expect to find at a loan disbursement in New England and a loan disbursement in Uganda are found above.

When I got off the back of the motorcycle that was carrying me to visit one of the borrower groups, I was left on the side of a road with no formal buildings in sight. There were cows grazing across the road, children playing in a field in front of me, a youth group playing soccer in the same field, and under a mango tree all the way across the field sat Omunamku Khama Group. The group had come together to sign their names (stamp their thumbprints), exchange pleasantries, receive their cash loans, and then head back to work to grow their businesses.

The credit officer in this area, Carol, told me that two of members, who came to the meeting laughing and clearly full of jokes, always “abuse her.” (This is a way of saying that they tease her.) They tell her “you may have gone to school, but we have more businesses than you.” Carol, who has worked with Pearl for over 10 years, seemed delighted that these women took such pride in their accomplishments.

Just a Note:

Something I had not fully realized about group loans, at least at Pearl Microfinance, is that the members do put down security that guarantees their repayment. Members pledge things like their radios, furniture, goats, bicycles, and cows. For some reason the way that microfinance group loans had been explained to me, I assumed that borrowers pledged their reputation rather than their material possessions.

Help fund loans for hardworking borrowers like these ones on the kiva website!

After years of international travel riddled with complications, I think that I have just experienced my most dramatic journey yet. About two weeks ago, I left Boston to travel to work with Pearl Microfinance in Kampala, Uganda. I had planned to land in Nairobi on Tuesday and then spend three days in Nairobi before traveling to Kampala Friday evening.

All went as planned. As I have lived in Nairobi before, my time there was spent visiting old friends and meeting all the new babies! Despite my happy time in Nairobi, as I headed to the airport Friday evening I was thrilled to finally be on my way to Kampala. I boarded the plane and sat down next to one of the heroes working on AIDS in Africa; listening to his story made the plane ride go by very quickly.

About 10 minutes before landing, I began to pour sweat and a sharp pain in my stomach began that scared me, despite all my years of stomach ailments from travel. After landing, and some chaos on the jet way, I met my waiting, and now very worried host family, who rushed me to the hospital.

Thus began a long night in a hospital with cockroaches in the bathrooms, ants under the beds, and staff who seemed unconcerned about me, and my insect company. Somehow, despite my lack of local currency and a phone that let me make international calls, I spent the night wide-awake on the phone with Kiva, our wonderful medical insurance program MEDEX (who had a doctor from the US consulting with my doctor within an hour), and my increasingly worried family.

The following morning, I was medically evacuated to a hospital in Nairobi where a series of tests revealed that I had had a cyst on my ovary that had twisted causing the severe on set of pain. However, it seemed to have untwisted, and I was feeling better – the pain had subsided over the day and my spirits has been revived by the awesome experience of being medically evacuated. (First, I rode in an ambulance with no lights and no sirens, which they compensated for by continually beeping – and then, I was put in a little tiny airplane where I was tied down to a stretcher, my IV bag was clipped to the light socket, and I had so many machines attached to me I felt like Dr. Octopus from the Spiderman.)

After determining that I would not need emergency surgery, the doctors sent me home with a friend of mine who is currently living in Nairobi. I rested for a week, went back to the doctor a few times for various tests which eventually showed that the cyst had dissolved, and after being given the go ahead – planned my trip to Kampala for a second time.

This time during the landing, my only stress was that the location of the airport in Uganda is such that you are quite sure you are going to land in Lake Victoria! You lean forward in your seat hoping that your forward momentum will encourage the plane to stretch a little further.

So far, Kampala has been wonderful – it is a bustling, hot, friendly place, that is clearly filled with adventures waiting to be had! I have only been at Pearl for about a day and a half, and so far, my days are filled with meetings with very impressive people, reading amazingly organized manuals, and other tasks that go along with the first days at a great new job. I head to the field tomorrow to meet with some borrower groups. I hope to have more news of microfinance soon!

During all my chaos – Grace, the Kiva coordinator here, was working tirelessly to prepare borrower profiles! Watch in the upcoming week for new loans from Pearl Microfinance!

For the alleviation of poverty in Uganda, Microfinance Institutions are in the pilot seat by providing micro loans to the poor. The areas of operation depend on an Institution’s Vision and Mission, and like at Pearl Microfinance, financial services are provided to the economically active population of Uganda sustainably.

MFIs’ operations can not go on without the recognition of credit officers, a position that requires a lot of dedication, hard work and trust. The credit staff should have good people skills for if not, institutions would lack who to lend the money to or worse still, the existing clients are bound to fly over since they have many Institutions to choose from. They manage many lending groups and it is their duty to monitor each group for timely disbursements, loan repayments and trainings in better business skills. However, they face hardships like heavy rains leading to slippery and muddy roads, dusty roads with the scotching sun that mercilessly burns their heads. And actually our obligations at Kiva largely depend on the credit staff since they organize, train and disburse loans to the various groups that are known to us all; after which they ensure that the groups make their repayments on time. Kiva is doing a very commendable job in funding clients through the website just like the clients ensure that whatever amount disbursed is repaid on time.

The same recognition also goes to the hard working and devoted client’s that are very much willing to put their trust in the mutual relationship we have with them.
Take the example of Namulindwa Suzan, a 10 year old client with Pearl Microfinance in Gakuweebwa munno women’s group in Lugazi. She has a business of selling new clothing to daily markets called “mubuulo” which she buys from Kampala. Such markets are a collection of many entrepreneurs with various merchandise with a hope to sell to the customers who constantly flock the shopping stalls in the demarcated market areas as some markets reoccur weekly or bi-monthly and amazingly, no one concerned ever forgets the day and date and will always look forward to their next shopping whose prices are considered lower than shop prices.

To reach these markets, entrepreneurs like Suzan come together and hire a truck to take them with their merchandise to the market and pick them up after the day’s sale. And since the daily markets are never booming in the morning hours, Suzan has ample time to prepare her children for school, prepare the day’s meal and serve her husband before she sets foot only to return home after 9pm.

The saying, “when good character and hard work find opportunity, wonderful things happen” comes to terms with Suzan since with the help of loans, she has been able to increase stock of the clothes she sells and this has enabled her to pay school fees for her 4 children plus 3 relatives in her care, she has bought herself another plot of land, she has two cows, one giving her milk and she has hopes of more developments.

Figure 1: A typical wednesday market in Njeru County in Jinja.

Very true, women are instrumental in the poverty eradication process; take the example of Babirye Eflance. She had never thought of joining any lending group not until a day she was sent packing by her husband. It all started when she gave birth to her 5th born Sarah. At the age of 3 months, Sarah developed some abnormalities like having a loose neck, rolling eyes with a generally very weak more like a borne less body. She took her to the various clinics and hospitals with no solution to her sickness and this prompted the husband to send her packing with the rest of her children. Having no where else to go, she headed back to her parents’ home who managed to set apart some little money for her as capital to start a small retail shop.

Figure 2: Babirye Eflance with Sarah, her daughter.

After a few months, and by word of mouth, she was introduced to Pearl Microfinance and since then, life has never been the same. She has been able to include the sale of charcoal, mukene, tomatoes, pineapples and many others hence increasing her savings each day. As a result of her persistence and hard work, she has been able to educate her children of which 2 are now secondary school teachers, 2 are managing their own businesses while Sarah is able to access her medication, her life’s dependency. Eflance has asked for another loan through her lending group with the hope to restock her retail shop with more products like sugar that will bring in more income. This is not a story of sympathy but to show how she has managed to pull herself out of sheer poverty. In every development, we are supported by others and it takes one with a big heart to sacrifice the little they have for some one else’s big achievements. Good Luck.

Posted on behalf of Grace Natoolo, Pearl Microfinance

I’ve been in Uganda for a week and a half now, working for a local MFI here called PEARL microfinance. During this time I’ve seen more action than I would have seen in 3 months back home. I’ve gone on a death defying motorcycle ride during a thunderstorm deep in the jungle, skidding through mud in 45deg declines and inclines (literally). I’ve witnessed the breathtaking beauty of the countrysides of Uganda — scenery that takes the cake from any other that I’ve seen in my 25 years, including Yosemite. I’ve gone on exciting adventures in the city with dozens of expatriates here similarly affected with a chronic restlessness and need for adventure.

But through it all, there is just one thing that stands out at the end of the day; something that occupies my mind during those quiet, solitary times in the evening just before going to bed. Its not the breathtaking views, the adventures in the city, or even the near death experiences on my motorcycle. It’s the faces of the locals here. The friendly shop owner and Kiva borrower who I pass by and say hello to on my way to work everyday; the entrepreneurs I’ve met with and interviewed at their broken down homes; the extremely well spoken, energetic and confident credit officer who made a lasting impression on me during one of our borrower meetings.

Any one of these people could be tremendously successful in America (economically speaking). Maybe a CEO of a prominent company, or a hotshot lawyer who wears a two-thousand-dollar suit to work everyday. But they arent. And the only reason for that is because of where they were born.

I think about it this way: suppose there is a barrel with 6 billion tickets, and before you’re born, you pick one at random. The ticket identifies what you will be when you enter this world, for example, rich or poor, black or white, retarded or bright, male or female. The title of this game is “the ovarian lottery”*. It’s a game we all played when we entered this world.

I won the ovarian lottery. I am a US citizen; got a good education; enjoy great health; and came equipped with a “engineer” gene that allows me to prosper in a manner disproportionate to other people who contribute as much or more to society. I’m in the top 1% of the entire population of the world.

Kiva, to me, is simply a way for those of us who drew the best tickets in the ovarian lottery to help those who drew less fortunate ones.

*The “ovarian lottery” concept was taken from a speech by Warren Buffett, the world’s richest person who recently committed a staggering $31B to philanthropy

Hello Kiva Supporters!  My name is Stephanie Koczela, and I am ecstatic to be headed to Uganda to spend three months with an MFI called Pearl Microfinance Limited.  I am writing to you today from a bus traveling from New York to Boston.  I am amused to be writing to you from this bus as it is running on a smooth road, has plugs for computer cords in each seat, and even has high speed wireless internet – it seems a far reach from the conditions I imagine I will be living in the upcoming months…

I am traveling back to Boston, where I currently live, to finish up a few last packing chores.  I take off Monday to head to Nairobi, Kenya connecting through London.  I will spend a few days in Nairobi and then travel to Entebbe, Uganda  where  I will be greeted and taken to Kampala by a wonderful family that has agreed to host me during my stay.  

Despite the looming unknowns, I find myself very ready for this adventure I am setting off on.  I think credit for the ready feeling must be given to the wonderful training that the Kiva Fellows are given in preparation for our department. Before taking off, I wanted to share with you my reasons for being delighted with this opportunity.

Two years ago, with a group of women from Mathare Slums in Nairobi, a friend of mine from Chicago, and two community organizers, I started a small fair trade bag company called Witethye.  This business was possible because of a $40 loan that my grandmother sent to us.  When the group began the women could barely ensure access to meals each day for their families – now, two years later, they are able to send their kids to school and some have moved out of the more standard slum housing (iron sheet roofs on top of walls make from mud and sticks) into apartment buildings made from cement.  This business has shown me the power of a little bit of money when put in the hands of entrepreneurs in the developing world. 

Naturally, my experience with this business led to an intense fascination with the idea of alleviating poverty by investing in small businesses in developing countries — thus the discovery and love affair with Kiva.  Working with Pearl Microfinance Limited will be different than my own small company,  because I will get to meet and interact face to face with dozens of business men and women all over Uganda.  Not only will I get to meet them and hear their stories, but I will get to increase the connections that you all have with entrepreneurs in the developing world.

I can’t wait.  

Join Pearl Microfinance Limited’s lending group on the Kiva website to connect with others who are excited about the entrepreneurs in Uganda!

This is a blog from Grace Natoolo, the Kiva Coordinator at PEARL Microfinance, as part of an occasional series on reflections from the field. Grace worked most recently with KF6 Bill Brick to continue to grow PEARL’s partnership with Kiva:

WORKING WITH A KIVA FELLOW

Working as a Kiva coordinator for a Microfinance Institution is an interesting and fulfilling obligation especially for one that has the interest and capacity to do so. In most cases we get the chance to do what we are supposed to do, interact with clients, take photos, write stories, and make these experiences known to the world through posting them on the website; yet again we keep our lenders posted on the progress of the businesses they have supported and how this affects the social lives of the entrepreneurs. It’s an interesting bit really.

Another interesting bit about working with Kiva is being in close relations with the Kiva Fellows that are assigned to the MFIs. Surely I wish to copy their courage because in almost all instances, these Ladies and Gentlemen come to the country only knowing the name of the Institution they are to work with plus knowing that they have to visit clients in some rural places but they are always together like they have been here for long and it’s only those in close contacts with the fellows that can explain this to the rest; Ooops!!

On the look of things, the duties of a Kiva Fellow are largely undefined to allow for maximum flexibility once they arrive at their respective MFIs. At least for the Kiva Fellows we have had so far, and probably wherever else they have been, our relationships with Kiva are as smooth as never before and we are grateful for this.  Unless you know that the Kiva Fellow came in yesterday, or last week, you might believe that they have been here long enough to know every one and everywhere even better than us the natives. I have come to believe that a neighbor or friend can know your home better by paying attention to those things that you might call minor, and will beat you at your game.

I have had a great experience working with Kiva Fellows; not to forget Douglas Buser, the first fellow to work with Pearl Microfinance from Kiva. I did not have an opportunity to work with him for long but the little time I had to interact with him opened my world to Kiva and what I had to do as I stepped in his shoes. Douglas is remembered by all our staff as a free and hard working person, with a connection to every body. After him came Adam and Genevieve, and as a person, their coming gave me a lot of thought like;

•    Will they cope with the situation at hand?
•    How about our transportation means of mostly using Taxis and motor cycles (boda bodas)?
•    moving deep in the villages in search for a story and a picture,
•    having late or no lunch due to the time factor plus
•    having a busy schedule through out the week for the whole time we have to work together
But time has made me believe that some people are born managers and will utilize the available resources for their comfort.

Working with Bill Brick, our recent fellow at Pearl Microfinance Ltd., has been a great opportunity for us as an organization and for me as a Kiva Coordinator, my personality and my career. Bill came with a lot of development, hard work, courage and commitment that we at Pearl feel more pleasured to have him around.

Bill met with Elda, Juliet, Grace and Lillian all Staff at Pearl Microfinance during one of the decentralization training programmes for Kiva.

Can you imagine, whenever we had to visit a group in the field, all he needed to know was which side of the country we had to take and in an instant his map that he would pull out from his bag would enable him familiarize with the journey and that was all.

In almost all our movements, I have heard to feel pity for the fellows especially on dusty bumpy roads, hot days, and even when it has to rain, though they like it, so they tell me. I remember one time we had to visit a group in Mpigi where we took a taxi from the New Taxi park. At first we enjoyed the comfort of a tarmac road, until a certain point when we reached Nateete through a dusty bumpy road until we reached Kasanje, our destination. Surely as a native, there are some things you consider normal and would not be bothered at all when they come your way not until when you realize that the person you are moving with is uncomfortable but again you are already set and surely you can not turn back.

I personally hate rain on my day out in the field but I came to realize that the rains brought a bright smile on Bill’s face hence washing away my fears of ever soaking a muzungu all smeared with dust, with no where to turn for shelter. Operating in such places is why Pearl Microfinance exists to provide financial services to the economically active population of Uganda and we take these services right to our Clients’ sitting rooms; unlike most Commercial Banks.

I will use this opportunity to commend my friends for the sacrifice they made working with Pearl Microfinance and me in beating deadlines to the point that I have had to make them move late in the night in the hands of over speeding taxi drivers; their ability to meet all their costs for the sake of the people who need financial services, and above all, we at Pearl Microfinance are grateful to Kiva for always availing an extra hand at no cost to help MFIs realize their visions. We shall always remain indebted to you.

Not long ago, I was trapped in a mind numbing corporate cubicle, devoid of spirit, trading my time for money. I fantasized about days like this. Well, not exactly.

Grace didn’t tell me we were going into the field today. I was wearing my best clothes – navy blue slacks, a pressed white shirt and shiny black loafers, prepared instead for a day in the office. Naturally I was excited to join her and seized the opportunity without hesitation. “Nkokonjeru,” Grace replied when I asked her where we were going, “it’s not far.” She didn’t intentionally mislead me. Besides, it sounded like a lovely rural village. That much at least was true.

Old Taxi Park

Our saga began in Kampala’s old taxi park. The old taxi park is a chaotic, densely packed and altogether disorienting entanglement. I try to avoid it at all costs. That’s hard to do since all routes leading out of the city center originate at the taxi park and routes into the city terminate at the park. Even routine movement from say my guest house on Namirembe Hill on the southwestern perimeter of the city to my office in Kamwokya in the north central (about 6 km as the crow flies) requires a frustrating connection and a long delay through the taxi park, turning what should be a short commute into an hour-long journey that tests the limits of one’s patience and tolerance for discomfort. The Ugandan taxi system is not designed for the comfort and convenience of the passengers it serves.

The routine goes something like this: locate your taxi (white Toyota minivan, aka matatu) in a sea of thousands of identical others in a labyrinth of shouting barkers, hawkers and pedestrians. The taxi park is not ordered neatly into rows or equipped with clearly-marked signs or parking stalls, and there are no set schedules. With luck, you’ll eventually zero in on your van through a process of trial and error. Matatus, however, do not leave until they are full – a literal determinant not open to subjectivity: thirteen out of fourteen occupied seats is not full. If you arrive early, as Grace and I did on this unbearably hot day, you grab a seat, start sweating profusely and wait. And wait. And wait. We baked for nearly 40 minutes to medium-well until gleefully accepting our fourteenth victim. While this poor soul was lucky enough to avoid the long wait, he got the most uncomfortable seat – a fold-down jumper that he had to share with the conductor – all the way to Nkokonjeru. Either way, the taxi park exacts its price in misery.

Kampala’s notoriously bad traffic was especially awful this day. I craved movement, not for progress but for the breeze; instead, we roasted in agonizing stillness. We didn’t escape the grip of gridlock until Mukono, well outside the city limit, but freedom was fleeting. We immediately left the paved road (not to be confused with smooth) and joined a bone-jarring dirt road. Each time we hit a rut, or swerved to avoid one, I was bounced around painfully and frequently whacked my head. The van sounded like it was being ripped apart by the fissures, with deafening bangs. Seeking comfort on the “cushioned” seats was wasted energy. The driver, like most, was hard on the throttle and brakes, and the van’s suspension system was on strike. My legs grew fatigued from trying to brace myself – hard to do with my knees in my chest and unable to apply leverage.

Worst still was the dust from two weeks without rain. Constant clouds of thick blowing dust left no choice but to close all the windows. Lacking fresh air, the temperature inside the van sweltered. Closing the windows proved futile as plumes of dirt billowed in through holes, cracks and unsealed windows. I could barely see the front seat of the van as we raced down the abusive road. The limit of my endurance was being teased and I urgently needed relief. So I slid my window open. Big mistake! The other passengers, all Ugandan, shot me an aggravated look in unison while shouting at me in Luganda. I interpreted their response to my (obviously stupid) action as objectionable, and complied by closing my window. Grace thanked me. I couldn’t even access the water I had the foresight to bring – it was like trying to take a swig on a tilt-a-whirl.

Nkokonjeru

I was a physical mess and in wretched spirits when we finally arrived at Nkokonjeru. After being smashed incessantly against my cranium for two hours, my brain felt like one of the blended fruit smoothies a hawker tried to sell me upon debarkation. Dirt permeated everywhere – my eyes, nostrils, ears, teeth, hair, clothing and pretty much everywhere else, as I would find out later. My pressed white shirt was filthy brown and un-tucked and stuck to my reeking body. My blue slacks looked like some kind of hideous disco-era fashion. My shoes were no longer shiny or black. I was dehydrated from the unrelenting dry, dusty heat. In short, I was disgusting. “Not that far, huh Grace?”

But at least the torment had ended (for now). I was nearly euphoric to be out of the van, standing upright and breathing fresh air.

I’ve gotten used to being greeted as something of an enigma in remote rural villages, which of course, I am. I’m always welcomed as an honored guest; I’m usually chased by laughing school kids screaming “mazungu!”, and I’m frequently stared at cautiously and inquisitively by town elders, like I’m an unfamiliar predator. On this day, I was looked upon with horror, pity and comedy. One woman offered me a dirty rag to clean my face with. Another apologized – it’s the dry season, she reminded me. Several were laughing uncontrollably. I took no offense; I must have been quite a sight. They knew from a lifetime of experience what I had just endured. I think they were laughing with me, in empathy and camaraderie – a reminder that sometimes you just have to let go, accept the situation and enjoy the moment. Another powerful lesson learned in the field, of which I tried to heed.

When our meetings ended, Grace determined it was better for a soft, middle-aged mazungu (eg, me) to take a motorcycle taxi to Lugazi, seven miles away, where we could catch a taxi home on pavement and thus avoid reversing our hellish route. Grace got no opposition from me!

I had never been so happy to be on the back of a motorcycle. I enjoyed the smooth and comfortable ride, if even on dirt. Mainly, I treasured the freedom. A fine consolation, I thought, for the afternoon’s effort. The Mukono countryside is undeniably beautiful. The rolling hills to Lugazi wind through Elysium fields of sugarcane, tea and banana. The air was almost sweet and by now it had cooled comfortably. The fresh breeze was as rewarding and rejuvenating as a cool shower after hard labor. An ominous thought.

Without warning, the blue sky turned dark and we were overtaken by a tropical thunderstorm. Yes, the rain felt wonderful but the irony mounted. In the middle of nowhere, with no shelter to be found, I was helpless to resist. I reminded myself of the lesson the laughing ladies of Nkokonjeru taught me earlier, and I embraced the moment unconditionally and with laughter, in what could be one of life’s cherished moments. Certainly beats the heck out of an oppressive cubicle! We pressed on to Lugazi, where I arrived soaked to the bone and muddy. And, strangely, happy.

The return trip offered little respite. I was filthy, my clothes were saturated, and I was absolutely uncomfortable in the 3^rd row of the battering matatu. When we passed the Kampala 15km sign, we came to a dead stop and sat motionless for over an hour. With daylight waning and no indication of impending movement (and a completely fatigued body and mind), I decided to complete my journey on a boda boda. Normally, I reserve bodas for rural backroads and short, relatively safe hops in the city. But this was not normal circumstances. I coveted hygiene and comfort, at any cost. Still, fifteen km on a boda was an unsettling acceptance.

After weaving in and out of opposing lanes of traffic, diverting onto sidewalks and popping wheelies for several km’s, the driver skidded into a petrol station and told me to give him money for fuel. I paid him the fare we agreed upon. He didn’t look to his right, the direction of oncoming traffic, when he pulled back out into the derby. The next thing I heard is the last thing you want to hear on the back of a bike: screeching car tires. How we avoided an inevitable collision, and worse, is a mystery. I think we jumped over a curb and slid into a power pole sustaining only minor scrapes and scratches.

Later that evening over a badly needed beer, I wondered if the effort and risk and suffering were really worth it, just to interview a couple of borrowing groups.

The answer is a resounding yes. I share this folly not just to humor and entertain you, but to illustrate a day in the life of a Kiva Coordinator, whose ordinary day is decidedly unordinary and who delivers extraordinary results.

Kiva Coordinators are a vital link that connects Kiva Lenders to Borrowers. They endure days like this one to bring Uganda’s rural poor into your living room and to put a face and personality on a funding request. Their work is exhausting, demanding intellectual and physical capacity. They travel near and far, and they work under tight deadlines and bear large responsibility. I found this one day in the field to be Blog-worthy; this is Grace and Gina’s everyday reality. After “scooping” stories in the field all day, it’s not atypical to find them writing up their interview notes well into the evening and on weekends so they can post them onto Kiva within deadline. Working hard for the poor.

Grace

Kiva Coordinators are unsung heroes. Grace (Pearl Microfinance) and Gina (BRAC Uganda) are talented, intelligent women – both attended top universities on scholarship. Their purpose, like most poverty workers I’ve met, drives them to excellence, regardless of the commitment and personal sacrifice asked of them. It would be a lot easier to stay seated at their desks. But ordinary wouldn’t suit Grace or Gina or any Kiva Coordinator. They thrive because they know that are a playing a unique role – there are less than a few dozen Kiva Coordinators in the world, and Grace and Gina represent two of them (the few, the proud). Kiva Coordinators hold a critical responsibility for attracting lenders by writing compelling borrower profiles, and retaining lenders by writing social and economic impact updates (eg, journals). Watching lenders on the Kiva website from all over the world react to “their” loan excites them, and witnessing first-hand how that loan transforms lives invigorates them further. Grace and Gina are changing the world, one long, hot trip over fiery, dusty, battering roads in afflictive matatus at a time. Their profit is pride and the dividends they receive far surpass the distress they withstand. I hope my slapstick tale helps bring them out of the shadows and into recognition. Ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

Gina

I commend BRAC Uganda and PEARL Microfinance for their vision and their commitment to Kiva. Kiva Coordinators are full-time salaried staff resources and, therefore, a long-term investment in their partnership with Kiva, and a further embodiment of their unwavering commitment to poverty alleviation.

It’s truly my great privilege and pleasure to work with Gina and Grace – two remarkable young ladies that I will miss when I return home.  I’m proud to call them colleagues.   Each one approaches her craft with professionalism, dedication and good cheer, and delivers the results expected by all stakeholders.  Their energy inspires me.  They are a reward of progress and I’m indebted.

They seem to always be where you are, which is to say everywhere, as repellant and inescapable as a maelstrom of gnats. Step around one and you bump into another. You politely wave them off and mumble “no, thanks” with a disingenuous smile. Making eye contact might suggest interest or intent; or worse, invite confrontation. So you learn to ignore them. Faceless, nameless, spiritless ghosts you look right through and beyond. They don’t appear in travel magazine teaser shots or in the imaginations those publications sell. Their sole purpose, it seems clear, is to detract and annoy and chip away at an otherwise fine day. You wish they would just go away and leave you alone.

In actuality, their purpose is survival and the well being of their children. I don’t imagine anyone aspires to be a street vendor, or enjoys the profession once it becomes them. Hawking is the exclusive domain of peasants. It is not a particularly dignified or satisfying means to an end, but one mandated by necessity. Hawking requires no training and little skill, except perhaps pushy persistence and physical endurance – this is a 14- hour-a-day, 7-day-a-week job. Hawkers own nary a thing of value – no shop, no land – just the bag of goods on their back which, in itself, is practically worthless. I can imagine few jobs more miserable.

In fairness, Uganda’s street vendors are not a nuisance; to the contrary, they are the most passive and unobtrusive hawkers I’ve experienced anywhere. They truly are ghosts – they are present and ubiquitous, but one hardly notices them, except for the sidewalk congestion they create. They are certainly not assaulting. Like all Ugandans, Kampala’s hawkers are respectful and courteous. Their presence adds color and energy to the city.

Kiva Fellows witness difficult things every day and we could easily fall prey to indifference. My job would indeed be easier if I could be purely analytical. But I can’t be. Instead, I’ve developed some tools for coping. One is bedside manner, which enables me to connect more personally and deeply with clients as they walk me through circumstances which are inevitably more wrenching than mine. Another is shifting my notion of ordinary, which of course is a relative state of being. What is ordinary half-way through my Fellowship would have seemed sensational six weeks ago. It’s easier to deal in ordinary. And finally, balance. Empathy is fundamental, but emoting pity is condescending and counterproductive. It’s almost always a delicate trade-off.

Still, interacting with borrowers in a dignified manner without falling apart is sometimes challenging and often depleting. Take Florence, a Pearl Microfinance borrower I interviewed last week. Florence is a 45 year old widowed mother of seven children who recently lost her small grocery shop, her only asset and sole source of income, to a senseless and random act of arson. As I prompted her to describe how she’s depending on Pearl to re-build her life, tears streamed down her cheeks and at times she was too choked up to speak. I found it difficult to push through the interview, but my task had a noble purpose and I came with my toolbox.

Some stories are even more difficult.

Specioza is an attractive and demure woman, not five feet tall. Her face is gentle and soft, almost youthful, and it does not reveal decades of hardship. She is soft-spoken and shy; yet she’s inexplicably inviting. She is pleasant and polite and gracious. The members of her BRAC borrowing group admire her – Specioza is one of its elected officers. She is dignified and commands an understated respect, not through her words but how she carries herself. Her strength, I sense, emanates from a lifetime riddled with loss. There’s a depth in her eyes not found in innocence and her smile signals anguish more than peace. Specioza is the kind of person you would want as your friend. I wanted to know more about her and felt cheated that time would not allow for such pleasantries.

Specioza is also a ghost.

Like most women in Uganda, she married young and began having children immediately. At the time, she and her husband were farmers in Mbarara, a town in rural southwestern Uganda, not far from the Rwanda border. There must be something fertile in the water in those parts – Specioza delivered an astonishing four sets of twins! One boy and one girl in each set, none of them identical. That same fertile water, however, must also be toxic – she lost half of her twins at birth and nearly perished herself during one particularly difficult delivery.

Uganda’s civil war was in its fragmented twilight shortly before Specioza’s youngest surviving twin was born. The family farm was doing well and Specioza and her husband wanted a way to help refugees in their country’s war-ravaged northern regions. They joined a program administered by the UN where they sold crops to the World Food Program for distribution to IDP camps in Gulu and surrounding districts. Occasionally, her husband would accompany the WFP on the 9-hour drive to Gulu and help distribute the supplies. On one such trip, he never returned.

When his convoy of WFP trucks arrived at Gulu, it was ambushed by LRA rebels in a well-orchestrated and bloody attack. The LRA was intent on preventing aid from reaching the people it was determined to eradicate, and it wanted the provisions to fortify its own forces. Like the parents of the orphans he was trying to keep alive, Specioza’s husband died a brutal and unceremonious death on the side of a road in an act of unthinkable savagery (the LRA’s use of inhumane and gratuitous torture is legendary).

When a wife loses her husband in Uganda’s rural villages, the late husband’s family – by a mystifying and disturbing tradition – excommunicates the widow from the family (and often community) and seizes the family assets. Women have no value unless attached to a man. So that she wouldn’t also lose her children to this twisted fate, Specioza fled Mbarara and left behind the only life she had ever known. She migrated to Kampala where the best prospects for work and her children’s education existed. She arrived with just the clothes on her back and her 4 children – scared, broken hearted and broke. She had never been to the city before. She was disoriented and terrified.

Specioza’s farming skills were useless to her in the city. In desperation, she took up hawking as her only viable and immediate source of income. The entry barriers are nil, requiring no land, machinery or skill and very little capital. She bought her first bail of used clothing at the Owino market near the public bus station the day she arrived, using borrowed funds from a money lender. Money lenders are legal loan sharks. They require full repayment within a few days and they charge exorbitant interest rates. Specioza sold that first bail in time to repay the money lender, but had barely enough left to feed her family. She didn’t like hawking, but figured it was only temporary and the most practical means to an end under the circumstances. She had no sales experience. Promoting her wares and competing against armies of peddlers made her uncomfortable.

In time, she learned where to find the most buyers and how to optimize her selection of used clothing items. As her sales climbed, it became easier to repay the money lenders and more was left over for family expenses. Eventually she could afford school fees, although it was always a struggle and frequently caused her to forego eating so that her children could. Not once did she accept charity.

Her first break came sometime later when a BRAC Uganda credit officer came to her village conducting a survey to identify new recipients for its poverty alleviation programs. Specioza fits BRAC’s profile: she is very poor but she’s economically active with a stable track record and she comes recommended from her community borrowing group. The latter is not insignificant. Since each borrower in a group is responsible for the total repayment of the group’s obligations, a recommendation is a vote of confidence by one’s peers and a testimony to their character and abilities. With the help of small loans from BRAC (300,000 Ush or $170), Specioza can now avoid money lenders. This improves her profits, which enables her to keep her children in school without sacrificing meals. It also gives her a buffer for bad sales days. Perhaps most importantly, she has the support of her group and the world’s largest microfinance NGO has her back. For the first time in many hard years, Specioza has hope.

I don’t want Specioza to go away. She is not a parasite. She’s just a very hard-working mother trying to raise her kids and help them thrive under profoundly difficult circumstances. She has a face – a beautiful face, and a name and a soul. She, like all co-called ghosts, is a living, breathing human being who’s doing her level best with the bad cards she’s been dealt. She has purpose, hopes, dreams, thoughts and feelings and a voice, just like you and me. Perhaps she’s selling something I want to buy; if not, she would certainly offer a smile. But if I treated her like a transparency, I would never know and I would forfeit a unique opportunity to connect with a wonderful human being.

Specioza is not trying to annoy anyone; she’s only trying to eat. Ultimately, we’re all selling something, whether trying to convince others of our ideas or get people across the room to notice us. Trade connects people across continents and cultures. Supply would not meet demand efficiently without promotion of goods and services and, thus, markets would not work. It makes no difference to me if sellers are pedigreed “suits” sitting behind desks in San Francisco skyscrapers or uneducated peasants like Specioza trying to survive on the bustling streets of Kampala. Hawking may not be the most dignified profession, but successfully raising a family in the context of Specioza’s life is the most honorable thing I can think of.

I’m thankful to BRAC for recognizing Specioza’s needs and supporting her determination. And giving me the opportunity to meet her.

Poverty is a riot of inconsistencies and mysterious shades of complexity. Today, after a long week in the field, I’m wondering how anyone could possibly work their way out of the despair they inherited with birth when so many forces conspire against them, especially women.

Poverty is defined as a condition of unacceptable material deprivation, according to a particular society’s standards of what’s acceptable and what’s not. Poverty is widely acknowledged to be a multi-dimensional condition; however most efforts to measure its extent and severity focus on income poverty. Income poverty is measured in relation to a level of income or consumption designated as the minimum needed by a household to avoid poverty. National poverty lines differ by country. Low-income countries like Uganda typically set their poverty lines at the estimated cost of physical subsistence – a bare-minimum diet, plus a modest addition for necessities other than food. The causes of poverty are numerous but a significant root cause is gender disparity; specifically the ability and access that women have to productive assets and services.

In 2000, every country in the world and all leading development organizations agreed to eight Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) to halve world poverty by the year 2015. The eight MDGs are:

1. Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger
2. Achieve universal primary education
3. Promote gender equality and empower women
4. Reduce child mortality
5. Improve maternal health
6. Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria, and other diseases
7. Ensure environmental sustainability
8. Develop a global partnership for development

Many believe MDG3 – equality for women – is the most important MDG. Empowerment of women is not just about justice or being nice (which I naively assumed). All other MDGs depend upon MDG3: unless the situation of women is purposefully and radically shifted, achieving the other MDGs will be impossible. Women are the key to reducing poverty. World Bank studies show that agricultural production would increase by 20% if women had the same access to resources as men. Investing in women makes economic sense and is a prerequisite for development.

Uganda experienced rapid economic growth over the past two decades. Real gross domestic product (GDP) increased an astonishing 6.5% per annum on average since 1990. Yet, over the same period, 32% of Uganda’s households remained in poverty and 20% are chronically poor. Moreover, 11% of the poorest households moved into poverty for the first time, and there was no measurable increase in the middle class. The country’s population has doubled to thirty one million since the mid 1980’s, the median age is fourteen.

The national planning framework that guides public actions to eliminate the incidence of poverty in Uganda, consistent with the MDGs, is called Poverty Eradication Action Plan, or PEAP. Among a host of human and economic development strategies, PEAP acknowledges the strong correlation between gender disparities and economic progress, and sets forth policies to eliminate gender gaps under the Uganda Gender Policy (UGP). In addition to PEAP and UGP, the national government has enacted strategies to perpetuate its growth and economic development with programs to empower women, improve transportation infrastructure and utility services, and promote rural access to financial services.

The challenges are immense. Take infrastructure as one obvious example. Traffic control systems are non-existent and the roads are very poor – only main roads are even partially paved. Most roads even in the capital city of Kampala are dirt and driving on them is difficult and slow. Traffic is constantly choked and frequently stopped motionless in utter logjams (which, incidentally, seem to always occur at the apex of the day’s heat). Traveling even short distances often seems like an odyssey. Many of the borrower groups we meet are in villages that are only ten or so kilometers outside the city limits, but visiting them can take well over an hour even in a private vehicle and much longer on public transportation. In Uganda’s non-urban areas, the supply of electricity is fragile. There are no ATM’s or Internet. No running water or sewage systems. At night, its pitch dark except for the ambient light of kerosene lanterns and cook stoves. Imagine the effort required just to go to the bank each week, as MFI borrowers must do to safeguard their earnings from thieves and inflation. Transportation and infrastructure are obvious impediments to economic development.

The statistics on gender equivalency are even more disturbing and consequential:

§ Sixteen percent (16%) of women are married by age 15 and 53% by age 18. The average Ugandan woman is married at age 17.

§ Sixty percent (60%) of women aged 15-49 experience physical violence and 39% suffer sexual violence. Sixteen percent (16%) of the violence occurs during pregnancy. Over 40% of women have suffered domestic violence.

§ Social norms and values condone gender discrimination, perpetuated by low levels of education and limited access to information. Abuse of rights is socially acceptable.

§ Fifty five percent (55%) of MFI borrowers are women; yet women constitute 72% of commerce. More men than women are successful in credit applications and women usually receive smaller amounts, restricting their ability to acquire and control livelihood assets and resources such as land, information and technology, business skills and financial capital.

§ Thirty two (32%) of the overall population lives below the poverty line. Higher proportions of women-headed households are chronically poor and more move into poverty than male-headed households and are more likely to sell assets to avoid moving into poverty.

§ An estimated 13%, or 1.8 million children, are orphans. Forty percent (40%) live in poverty.

§ Eighty three (83%) of women are engaged in agricultural production, yet only 25% control the land they cultivate. Women own only 16% of the registered land. The majority of women only have use rights determined by the nature of the relationships they have with a make land owner – her father, husband or brother.

§ Women suffer very high time burdens in pursuing their livelihoods. Women work an average 15 hours a day compared to men who work only 9, and women bear the brunt of domestic tasks. The time and effort required for these tasks, in almost total absence of even rudimentary domestic technology, is immense. This has negative consequences on food safety, household income, children’s education, participation in community life, health and productivity.

§ The overall illiteracy rate is 32%; 24% of men are illiterate compared to 38% of women.

Clearly, women in Uganda are at a measurable disadvantage. Fortunately, Kiva works with three exemplary partner MFIs in Uganda that are attacking poverty using methodologies consistent with the MDGs and PEAP. BRAC Uganda, Pearl Microfinance and MCDT Sacco each employs an entirely different approach, but they share three common and significant distinctions: (a) focusing on the lower half of the economically-active poverty spectrum, (b) delivering financial services to rural areas, and (c) providing programs designed predominately for women.

Their programs are working. With the help of Kiva and its local MFI partners, some remarkable people somehow find a path to prosperity, despite overwhelming and seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Meeting them is like receiving a gift. Magdalena is one such person. The enormity of her disadvantage and the context of her life are difficult to comprehend, but it’s impossible to not be amazed and inspired by what she’s accomplished.

Magdalena grew up in an orphanage, abandoned by her biological parents at birth. She lived there until she was 14, when she was required to go out into the world on her own. Imagine being alone in the world, penniless and partially educated, at the tender age of fourteen. Not long after leaving, she was married and starting a family of her own. When asked about her husband, she replies only that “he’s around somewhere”. She is reluctant to share more. He seems to be an uncomfortable topic for her, so I don’t inquire further. In addition to her other hardships, could Magdalena also be a victim of domestic abuse? It’s statistically probable.

A typical boy's quarter

Ten years ago, she lived in poverty in a small, cramped “boy’s quarter” with her four children. To make ends meet, she rented space in a friend’s nearby clothing boutique, and offered alterations and tailoring for the shop’s customers. Her dreams at the time were to complete her children’s education, establish a business of her own and build a family home. They would seem like pipe dreams, given her situation.

Around that time, Magdalena took out a small loan from Pearl Microfinance and a purchased a used Singer sewing machine. Soon, using her savings and another loan, she opened her own small studio. Over the years she steadily built her business and today has established herself as the premier clothing maker in her village. Her studio is attached to her home and is stocked with a wide selection of fabrics, patterns, buttons and threads. She has four sewing machines, two employees and a large and loyal clientele that she has earned through superb craftsmanship and her friendly, honest customer service.

Some of her clients come from as far as Kampala for her fashion designs. Magdalena’s studio is not easy to find, despite sitting less than a hundred yards off the main highway. It sits on a narrow, rutted dirt track, tucked behind a primary school, and there are no street markers or signs advertising her business. But that doesn’t impede her customers from finding her.

Magdalena at work in her studio

She proudly shows me a Gomese, a traditional Ugandan dress, she recently completed and explains the profit model to me: the fabric costs about 35,000 UGX, the buttons and thread another 10,000 Ush (in total, about $23) and requires over 4 hours to make. Her profit margin is 20,000 Ush ($11). Not all her items are this expensive. Her typical profit is 5,000 to 7,000 Ush for everyday garments like school uniforms and skirts. Her backlog is extensive. She keeps a ledger for each order, accounting for costs, fabric, style, materials, client name, measurements and completion date.

In the ten years Magdalena has been a microfinance borrower, she has never missed a single loan payment or failed to pay school fees. She borrowers between 400,000 and 1,000,000 Ush ($216 – $541) depending on the current business cycle, and invests her loans in materials, fabrics, thread, machine repairs and maintenance, employee salaries and improvements to her studio.

Magdalena's beautiful new home

After years of dedicated hard work and vision, and with the loyal support of Pearl Microfinance, Magdalena has achieved unprecedented happiness, pride and success in the face of a lifetime of adversity that would render most people hopeless. All four of her children have completed their college education and are working professionals. Magdalena now cares for two disabled orphans, giving them the loving, nurturing childhood that eluded her. Her clothing business is thriving. She has money in the bank. And, her dream of building a lovely new home where old one-room buy’s quarter once stood is now a reality.

Magdalena embodies entrepreneurial and microfinance success. Hers is a story about the delicate balance between triumph and tragedy. She proves that hope, persistence and a helping hand are common threads that connect us all, and that lead us to our dreams. Magdalena’s life has woven through extremes in suffering, adversity and achievement. For me, she is an enduring symbol of inspiration on the sublime tapestry of humanity. For all of us, Magdalena illustrates the significance and importance of MDG3.  She helps me see that the friction which opposes my life’s ambitions is insignificant by comparison and thus gives me the perspective to find my way forward. That is Magdalena’s gift to me, for which I am thankful.

I encourage you to look at Kiva’s partner page to learn more about Pearl Microfinance, BRAC Uganda and MCDT Sacco.  You’ll discover amazing organizations staffed with teams of intelligent, purpose-driven, devoted people who are attacking MD3 and truly changing the world.  Like Magdalena, they inspire me and give me hope that poverty will one day be a human condition of the past.

Posted in BRAC Uganda, KF6 (Kiva Fellows 6th Class), Micro Credit Development Trust SACCO (MCDT), PEARL Microfinance, Uganda Tagged: bill brick ]]> http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/2008/11/07/mdg3/feed/ 10 Bill Brick a-typical-boys-quarter1 magdalena-at-work-in-her-studio1 magdalenas-beautiful-new-home4 http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/2008/10/26/one-rung-up-and-flat/ http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/2008/10/26/one-rung-up-and-flat/#comments Sun, 26 Oct 2008 07:49:00 +0000 Bill Brick http://kivafellows.wordpress.com/?p=1904 ]]>

We exited the main highway to Jinja, somewhere between Lugazi and Njeri. It’s an obscure and easily missed unimproved road, and not one I would guess leads anywhere. The dirt track is peppered with fissures and ruts and undulations, and winds slowly through countless hectares of banana and pineapple trees. Uganda is blessed with fertile soil and an abundance of rain; here, things grow fast and big – and apparently everywhere. Except for the brown dirt road we followed, there’s nothing but endless fields of tall green as far as the eye can see. I’m riding in back, in the open bed of a pick-up truck, sitting on a bag of charcoal next to a large bunch of green bananas, enjoying the air. I’m thinking how lovely this country is, away from the hustle and bustle of Kampala; that this must be the “real Uganda.” Occasionally, we pass a peasant farmer on foot or on bike, always wearing flip-flops, carrying large loads of palm thatch or bananas or firewood. Back home, this would constitute backpacking or mountain bike riding. No such recreational diversions here. In Uganda, these are just modes of transportation; people serving as their own beasts of burden. I feel guilty whizzing past them in the relative ease of a vehicle.

This is where Pearl Microfinance works. Its niche is serving Uganda’s economically-active rural poor, the most neglected sector of the economy and almost entirely overlooked and excluded by the financial services industry. It’s simply too difficult and costly to deliver services in remote areas like this. Difficult enough on dry soil, I doubt even passable during the torrents that arrive each afternoon. Despite coming here weekly, our driver stops more than once to get his bearings. No road signs, no visual cues – just miles of disorienting tropical flora.

Main Street

I’m joining Pearl’s Jinja branch manager and credit officer into the field to meet some Kiva borrowers to learn how micro loans have impacted their businesses and lives. Grace is also with us. She’s Pearl’s Kiva Coordinator, whom I work closely with in Pearl’s main office in Kampala. I’m excited to hear first hand accounts of real people struggling through the despair of poverty with the aid of Pearl’s microfinance programs and achieving ever-growing levels of new-found prosperity. At least that’s my hope.

That hope soon vanishes. Poverty is like an onion: you peel away one layer only to find many more beneath it. Indeed, the more I learn the less I realize I know. What I learn this day is that the methods of evaluating success sometimes need to be turned upside down and examined from an entirely different perspective.

The perspective I brought with me, the one taught to me in school and reinforced in practice, is that market economies are fueled by consumption, and specifically the growth in consumption. Organizations are valued in great part by how quickly and consistently they produce increasing profit. Investments are intended to spur further growth and are gauged by their ability to create or accelerate growth opportunities. Progress is a measurement of growth, and growth is the intended end to the means. Flat revenue and earnings, therefore, are bad; and if they persist, utter failure.

It’s natural, then, to wonder how small loans to the rural poor have improved the growth prospects for their businesses, personal savings accounts and family lifestyles. This I wanted to know.

Nothing suggested our arrival into the village. No sign, no traffic signal. Main Street is more like a poorly maintained driveway. I wonder if this village has a name or a postal code. I ask my colleagues but they don’t know. It is little more than a one-block strip of mud and block structures cut into the jungle. There’s a hardware store that advertises auto parts and electrical supplies and think it must be in jest: electricity doesn’t supply this outpost and the only vehicles are a few scattered bodas. And I fail to see any value in advertising. It is, however, a nice village, quiet and peaceful and nestled in a pocket of breathtaking beauty. It must see few visitors because within seconds of stopping, we’re surrounded by throngs of excited, laughing adolescents, all boys, wearing orange school uniforms. Most are barefoot. They appear from out of nowhere, and they seem fascinated with…me. Perhaps this is their first encounter with a muzunga. Maybe it’s just that visitors come seldom and white skin marks not only the arrival of something out of the ordinary, but of good fortune.

School Boys

Meeting borrowers is perhaps the greatest joy and privilege of being a Kiva Fellow. Here, I met with four borrowers, all women, each hospitable and gracious with her time. My questions were centered on assessing the financial and social impact of their microloans. I learned that their struggles are not that different from ours, except in magnitude: earning a livelihood, raising and educating their children and managing finances, including loan obligations. In this small village, bankruptcy is not a financial strategy; it’s a certain means to starvation and illiteracy, a punishment far more dooming than a poor credit rating.

My library of potential questions is extensive and explores a range of topics to help me understand the entrepreneur and her business, the context of her life and how the loan(s) contributed to her business and personal ambitions. One of these topics is to gain some indication of growth: for example, was the business constrained before receiving a loan? And, how has financing boosted revenue and profit?

This was not my first day in the field, so I had some hint of what to expect. And this was not the first day the inspirational and heart-wrenching stories they shared with me of deprivation, sacrifice and hard work was tempered by some degree of disappointment. In a majority of the cases, the initial loan(s) did indeed provide an initial shift up in economic status, by helping to establish a business and get it to scale (eg, steady-state operations). But there is often little, if any, noticeable expansion that follows. Further, MFI’s don’t use growth as an underwriting factor when extending subsequent loans (although Pearl and others do have a compulsory savings requirement). Many micro enterprises receive loan after loan; yet never expand commensurately, if at all.  At first blush, it appears to be an endless cycle of debt which leads to no measurable performance improvement.

The problem is that in the context of microfinance, scale is an irrelevant notion, especially in rural villages like this one that are very small, very poor and geographically isolated. This is not an expanding economy and likely never will be, and growing a market is therefore impossible. These entrepreneurs are merely servicing their friends and neighbors with inexpensive subsistence items, and there’s no room for competition, innovation or profit maximization. Money, then, is nothing more than a necessary medium of exchange, more convenient to trade or barter. It’s not an instrument of wealth.

Of course, metrics are not tracked in this sector of the economy. People don’t speak in terms of period-over-period performance, ROE or operating margins. They talk about well-being, happiness, health and self-sufficiency. As we bounced our way slowly back to the highway, I couldn’t reconcile my disappointment. Positive, beneficial things are happening in this remote little village. These women are proud and happy, and their children play as children do. They feel productive and useful and they are contributing meaningfully to their households. There’s dignity in that, and I felt it when we spoke. They talk about their shops, their customers, their loans, the business skills they’ve acquired, what they want to do with their next loan and their vision for their futures, all with great enthusiasm and passion.

So is microfinance working in this poor rural village? I can only speak anecdotally. Every borrower I’ve met so far has told me, in their own words, that they are better off now than they were before. They are happier and they feel more secure. With added income, their families are healthier, less hungry, better clothed and in school – some have graduated college. They’ve built homes and can afford medicines and the occasional luxury. Perhaps they will never climb another rung on the economic ladder and will forever languish level. Perhaps the loans they continue to use will do nothing more than sustain them at a marginally elevated plateau of subsistence. But isn’t that better than the alternative? Isn’t the world a better place because Pearl Microfinance endures the difficulty and cost to drive out to this little village every week to meet its clients?

A joyful...and successful Robinah

I’ve cast my concern and disappointment aside. In this charming remote community in rural Uganda, assessing impact and measuring success have nothing to do with the incorrect criteria I arrived with. I think the individuals themselves are the best judge, not me. I’m just some muzunga with an impossibly different perspective. Robinah summarized it best when she told me, her emotions palpable, wiping tears of gratitude from her cheek, “Pearl has helped me so much. I’m so grateful. For the first time in my life, I can see possibilities for my dreams.”

I came across a flier this morning that I found as humorous as I did frightening. I wanted to share it with you, perhaps deepening your insight into just one of the many day-to-day rituals of being a Kiva Fellow in the field. This is a sequel, of sorts, to my earlier blog. I promise to move away from (no pun intended) the transportation theme!

I paraphrase:

Public Transport in Uganda: Be aware. Be very aware!

Over 2,000 people are killed each year on our roads. In terms of all fatalities and injuries, 42% are passengers, 33% are pedestrians and 14% are motorcyclists.

Your choices for public transportation include:

1. Matatu

A Matatu is a minibus, which holds up to 14 passengers. Matatus operate long a fixed route, stopping anywhere along the way to pick up passengers. They are almost always in poor condition, recklessly driven and without insurance cover or a licensed driver and don’t value their lives. Matatus are one of the primary contributors to the increasingly unsafe road conditions in Uganda. They are characterized by^*:

§ Overloading of passengers – ü

§ Driving above the speed limits – ü

§ Swerving between traffic – ü

§ Disregard for other rnotorists and traffic laws – ü

§ Driving on pavement – ü

§ Driving under the influence of alcohol and drugs – ?

§ Inexperienced drivers – ?

(^*Note: items followed by a ü are ones I’ve personally experienced after just a few days.)

If you choose to use Matatus:

§ Wear a seatbelt

§ Get out if you don’t feel safe

§ Tell driver to slow down

§ Avoid overloaded taxis

2. Boda Boda

A Boda Boda is a motorcycle taxi, typically a Honda 50 and is often in poor condition with no helmet for its passengers. Although they are a cheap and quick form of transport, Boda Bodas are renowned for their reckless behavior. Common examples^*:

§ Riding through red lights – ü

§ Riding too fast – ü

§ Riding on the wrong side of the road – ü

§ Riding on sidewalks and road islands – ü

§ Often bike is in bad repair – ü

§ Swerving between traffic – ü

§ Complete disregard for other motorists – ü

(^*Note: items followed by a ü are ones I’ve personally experienced after just a few days.)

If you choose to use a Boda Boda:

§ Wear a helmet

§ Choose a bike in good repair

§ Tell driver to slow down

§ One passenger per bike

The flyer then goes on to list emergency numbers and location of hospitals and clinics.

I’ve been to New York many times and have some legendary taxi stories. Yet, I’ve never seen a flier like this in NYC. New York cabbies are mere plebes compared to these guys in Kampala…

Posted in BRAC Uganda, KF6 (Kiva Fellows 6th Class), Uganda Tagged: bill brick ]]> http://fellowsblog.kiva.org/2008/10/07/public-transport-in-uganda-be-aware/feed/ 1 Bill Brick