Kiva Stories from the Field

Amidst many adventures, this week has had its share of sobering events. Many of Life in Africa’s (LiA) Kiva borrowers live in an Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp in Kampala. As a Kiva fellow, I travel to their homes to chat with them about the challenges they face operating small-scale businesses. On most days, the head of LiA’s microfinance program, Grace Ayaa, accompanies me on my interviews to serve as a translator. On Saturday Grace was late to our meeting. After some time she showed up looking dazed and disheartened. Grace informed me that she woke up in the early morning hours to go to the bathroom. When she reached the pit latrine she found the body of a dead baby. Grace remembered that her neighbor’s housekeeper was pregnant; apparently she apparently gave birth in the middle of the night and left her newborn for dead. Grace was forced to summon the police and witnessed them handcuff and arrest the 16 year old girl for murder. The police put the newborn’s corpse in a clear plastic bag and made the trembling girl hold the body while they filled out paperwork. The young mother was brought to the local police station and is expected to serve a minimum of seven years in jail.

Is this girl a monster? No. I am by no means condoning murder or the taking an innocent life, but I can’t shake the image of this teenaged girl giving birth, alone and scared, in the middle of the night. Consumed by fear, she made an error in judgment that killed one life and ruined her own. I have only lived in Uganda for seven weeks and am not claiming to be a psychologist, sociologist, detective, or anything in between. I have, however, met countless women fitting this demographic. They are young. They are poor. They are uneducated. They lack the financial means, knowledge, and requisite emotional support system to care for themselves, let alone another human life. These girls are born into poverty, and, due to its cyclical nature, stand a slim chance of every escaping its clutches despite efforts from development agencies. Did she make a mistake? Yes. Should she be punished for it? Probably. But what factors influenced her decision? Is she a coldblooded murderer, filled with malice and a true threat to society? Regardless of the answer to that question, she was still taken away in a police car, forced to publicly bear her scarlet letter by holding her infant’s lifeless body.

I came into work on Tuesday only to meet Grace’s sad gaze once again. Over the weekend, Esther Akello, an LiA member and ringleader of the Acholi women, fell seriously ill. I have spent many days in Esther’s home in the IDP camp. Most of the Kiva borrowers meet me in her house because she loves playing hostess. Esther serves us tea and traditional Ugandan food as we chat sitting on the cement floor underneath her tin roof. The conversations initially focus on microfinance but always steer off topic as Esther frequently interjects clever remarks. Her contagious laughter and witty banter leave the group in hysterics and near tears.

Esther was under the weather all of last week. I saw her everyday—LiA hosted a five day conference and she was one of the members in attendance—but she maintained her characteristically facetious demeanor despite feeling ill. Her poor condition escalated over the weekend. Esther’s husband refused to take her to Mulango Hospital, opting instead to seek physicians at a local clinic because he could not afford better treatment. Grace implored him to take her to the hospital regardless of the cost.

I went with Grace to Mulago Hospital. I found Esther lying on the dirty hallway floor–one of several patients remaining untreated. I could not believe the conditions I was seeing. This is Uganda’s premier hospital located in the capital city. A woman—my friend—is lying on the floor unconscious and barely breathing; no doctor so much as looks twice when they pass her limp body. Unbelievable. Of course, I am not blaming the doctors; they are understaffed and lack the resources to treat patients. I wanted to scream, who is responsible here??? Then it hit me. This is not America. I cannot protest that this is unfair and demand to see a supervisor to care for Esther immediately. This is not America. She is probably not the first person to lay on their hallway flours unnoticed. She will not be the last. Again, this was another sobering event that brought me face to face with the realities faced by those living in developing countries. This is not America. All I could do was rub her feet and sit with her relatives and other visitors hoping for a doctor to take pity on Esther.

With CHOGM approaching in November, the government has made an attempt to clean up the city in preparation for the arrival of hundreds of delegates and officials from around the world. Will the government actually address issues such as poverty, poor healthcare facilities, etc. or just sweep them under the carpet to hide the horrible conditions those living in the slums endure everyday? The Queen of England will enjoy the drive from Entebbe airport to Kampala because those roads are being repaved and resurfaced. What about the dangerous, potholed, dirt road leading to Esther’s home? I doubt the Queen Elizabeth will be exposed to this side of Uganda.

Greetings from Uganda! My name is Maura and I have been working with Life in Africa (LiA) for the past four weeks. LiA is a community based organization servicing families affected by Northern Uganda’s civil war. Approximately 80% of members belonging to the Kampala LiA Center are mothers living in the Acholi Quarters–an Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp. Political instability and violent rebel attacks over the past two decades have caused people to flee from the northern districts to escape persecution. Many LiA members hope to return home in the near future.

As a student studying international development, I came to Uganda to learn how microfinance programs can benefit those trying to rebuild their lives in post-conflict areas. Many people I have talked with in the IDP camps live in mud structures with tin or grass-thatched roofs. Forced from their villages into the camps, these people had to restart their lives with no means of financial support. Members of LiA access credit to purchase the fixed capital necessary to operate small-scale, income-generating businesses. Sustainable cash flows enable members to buy basic necessities. Often allocating profits involves sacrifices; food expenses, rent, and school fees tend to take priority over proper health care and medical treatment.

From my exchanges with LiA’s Kiva loan recipients, school fees are primarily cited as the average household’s greatest expenditure. And it is no surprise why. The mothers I’ve met usually care for their 4 to 8 children, in addition to supporting deceased relatives’ dependents. Some mothers lack formal schooling because their parents could not afford the fees; others were prevented from continuing classes because rebel attacks interrupted the operations of educational institutions. These mothers work unceasingly to provide their children with opportunities they were denied.

I was expecting to witness poverty in the IDP camps. I was not, however, expecting to hear so much laughter. These women are constantly singing, chatting, dancing, and poking fun at one another. Visiting a camp for the first time, I was nervous about how the local community would receive me. I do not exactly blend in as a freakishly tall, white, young western woman. Within five minutes of my arrival I was promptly christened with my Acholi name–Lakeza (meaning “grace” in Lwo)–and adorned with handmade necklaces. Although I am occasionally harassed by men on the street, generally all of the women and children I interact with have been more then friendly (especially the LiA members!).

As a Kiva Fellow, I meet with loan recipients and journal on the social impact of microfinance. Introductions alone are the most time-consuming portion of my interviews; greeting dozens of family members and even neighbors who sneak over to catch a glimpse of the mzungu (white foreigner) can take hours. After casual chatting has died down, I am typically overwhelmed with heaping plates of rice, posho (bread made from maize flour), and matokye (fried plantain). We then travel to the loan recipient’s business and I am filled in on the daily challenges entrepreneurs face.

Conversations normally start with a focus on microfinance but tend to steer towards more personal subjects. It is not my intention to pry, but the Ugandans I have met are fairly open to sharing their backgrounds and experiences–even if it means bringing up painful memories. For instance, I am shocked by how many people were abducted by or lost family members to the Lords Resistance Army (LRA). Some of the stories are quite disturbing; I find myself getting angry that so many of the horrific human rights violations in Northern Uganda never surfaced in the international media. I came to Uganda to learn how microfinance programs can be utilized in conjunction with poverty-alleviation schemes; the effects of war have added a whole new dimension to my initial curiosities about development initiatives. Although some of my initial inquiries have been satisfied, these answers have spawned an entirely new set of questions.

Last week I traveled to Gulu along with 35 LiA members from Kampala for a week long conference. I brought a few novels to occupy myself on the six hour bus ride. I did not get past page one of my book. The women were intent on transforming me into a true Acholi woman and the entire trip was dedicated to Lwo lessons (most of LiA’s members speak Lwo or Luganda) intermingled with instruction on how to create paper beads from recyclable materials. Quite the eventful bus ride, I also experienced by first Ugandan “drive-thru.” I explained that in the US, we have McDonalds; you drive up to a black box, place your order, pull forward to a window, pay, pull forward to a third stop, and receive your food. In Uganda, you pull off to the side of the road at a trading center, flocks of children run up the the bus thrusting sticks of meat, roasted cassava, fried bananas, and live chickens (yes, live!) into the bus windows. You grab whatever meets your fancy, slip a few shillings to the eagery waiting hands outside, and then the bus departs trying not to run anyone over in the process. Chaos!

After arriving in Gulu I was sent to the volunteer house to sleep. We had ten people to fit on four mattresses–a cozy living situation. Nights were spent teaching the LiA members the electric slide and other equally terrible American line dances. There is nothing like a cold bucket shower in the morning to erase feelings of drowsiness from a lack of sleep! For five days, every waking moment was spent talking with LiA members, facilitating discussions at the conference, or fielding questions by children seeking help using the internet. Writing a short email in the community center took nearly an hour to compose because I was drawn into the surrounding conversations; Ugandans love to talk! It does not take an anthropologist to notice that privacy is valued more in the US then in East Africa. During each of my two minute trips to the bathrooms I was assured to hear voices from outside the door asking “Where is Maura? Lets go find her!” In the end I have no complaints, the bonding was worth the lack of personal space.

During the evenings in Gulu I visited a night commuters center. Fearing abduction in their villages by the LRA, children walk miles by themselves to sleep in the centers each night. Hordes of thousands of children used to spend their nights at these centers, but within the last year the number has dropped significantly. Even though peace is on the horizon, because children have spent years sleeping at the centers there are often no available beds or floor space at home to stay. I also frequented the headquarters of a few other NGOs during my week in Gulu. The influx of foriegn aid in this district is incredible, but much more help is still needed.

My flight back home is scheduled for the end August. I have been consumed with my work at LiA and can’t believe that I only have about three weeks left! I hope to do a little sightseeing before heading back to the States and will make sure to post another message to the blog detailing my future adventures in Uganda!