• KG’s 2010 Project Highlights

• 2011 Outlook

-Projects

-Personal

• So…

KG’s 2010 Project Highlights : Wrapped up quietly in December—morphing into a new set for 2011.

• The Sukuma Wiki planting project ( I wrote about it previously) wrapped up with a promising profitability analysis.  On an up- front investment that was less than $10, farmers averaged 200% to 300% in profits.  All 25,000 farm families that we serve in Kenya during 2011 will now receive a free packet of Sukuma seeds as part of their Long Rains 2011 maize package, and possibly a subset of farmers (such as those who show good repayment rates early on) will have the option to buy the treatment kit (pesticide, foliar, fungicide) that were offered in the 2010 trial.  Another associate will be running the roll-out of this large-scale distribution and farmer trainings, but it looks like I will mosey on back into the project  shortly as the M&E specialist.  We need  a good picture of how many farmers follow the trainings well, how many sukuma plants survive the multi-step planting procedures, what kind of interest farmers show in the chemical packages, how the chemical packages are used (yes, priority on safety…!), how many kilos famers harvest each week, how many kilos they sell at market and what market prices are, and how much the  families keep for consumption.  Unlike the 2010 trial, which measured just 70 farmers in one sublocation, this M&E project will be more of a beast—multiple districts, multiple groups (chemicals vs. non) multiple planting times (it’s up to the farmers when they plant, we’ll have to track them), multiple markets and prices, and several more field agents to be trained and quality checked along the way.  On top of this Sukuma monitoring and data, we will piggyback data gathering of a tree-seed product that is also going to all 25,000 farmers.  As with sukuma, seedlings need to be counted, farmer technique observed on the scale of several hundred farmers….everything feeding into a tantalizing data set….

• 700 farmers completed their Long Rains maize harvests in BGM South, our “experimental district.”  Those 700 harvest measurements got crunched into some interesting conclusions:

a.       Changing ratios of fertilizers (DAP and CAN) from the well-known 50kgs of each per acre to a less  expensive combination (less DAP more CAN) did not detract from harvests, and therefore increased profits.   This will become a larger experiment in a different district in 2011

b.      Having farmers plant seeds in furrows rather than holes does not affect yields—this is good if a farmer wants  save time by planting in furrow

c.       Intercropping beans with maize was not profitable.  We’ll change the configurations, try to boost bean germination rates in several new trials during 2011.  Getting beans/maize intercropping “right” (aka, finding a consistently profitable configuration) will be a huge breakthrough for us.

• 600 multi-district harvest measurements of farmers again showed that OAF farmers grow significantly more maize than farmers who are not in the program.

• Short Rains harvest measurements of the OAF beans products taught us a lot about how to time the beans product better in the future.  Essentially, poor yields in some areas proved that we’ll have to adjust our input delivery systems for 2011.  In my opinion, this was one of the most valuable learnings of 2010,—and an example of the value of regularized M&E.

• Monitoring and Evaluation department has now been through a full year of projects as a department.  Leadership-wise, I see progress with our two main managers, protocols and systems are steadily coming into place.  If the managers can take the lead on re-implementing 2011 editions of the 2010 projects, we will have really  have reached  “lift off” point.

2011 Outlook

Projects (thus far)

1)  Sukuma and trees will evolve into a large-scale M&E project, and will really test the M&E department’s capacity to handle large ongoing, decentralized, and multi-layered data gathering.

2) BGM South has more than doubled its size from 700 farmers to 1700 farmers.  Isaac (the BGM S Director) and I have redesigned field officer incentive structure (in short, a bonus structure) to reward the officers who set up the experiments well and train farmers thoroughly.  With the larger farmer cohort we can run more experiments, and we can increase our sample sizes, and thus the accuracy of our data.

3) OAF has partnered with a multinational for-profit agriculture company and we’ve agreed to test several innovation projects with them among our farmers.  Some of these experiments are already underway, such as sukuma and tree seeds.  This month I finalize plans to test two herbicide products, a bean inoculate product, sealed storage bags, and a microorganism product (used in composting).

4) Monitoring and Evaluation department: will grow in terms of employees and the manager’s core competencies.  I also have to play bad cop and figure out where/if M&E funds ever get “misallocated” when in the hands of our staff….not pleasant, but a general reality.

Personal

Well, 6 weeks of vacation a year allows for me to have some kind of break every 3 months or so.  I can assure you that right around the 2.5 month mark, I feel the intense need for a break.   Maybe it is the fact that the work pace often makes weekends feel like an interruption, rather than a “real” part of time.  Lined up so far for 2011 is a trip (hopefully) in March to Zanzibar, a trip to the US East coast in May…

Day- to-day, my co workers and I live  rural town life by playing tons of board games, gardening, cooking, playing soccer, and taking weekends in Kisumu (a small city) or Jinja (in Uganda).   There are Saturdays and Sundays where each house seems to be having a DIY day (the compound set-up is 2 residents per house):  I install a hammock, someone builds a compost pit, tomato plants get some care, perhaps my roommate sews pillow cases.   There are group hikes to Sangalo Rock—a 20 minute drive and 15 minute climb that overlooks the same farmlands that our farmers harvest.  We don’t have TV, but we do have a projector and a decent stock of movies and recorded television shows, and a fire pit that goes well with late night beers and star-gazing.  In the last few months of 2010, we tried our hand at some special food adventures: a local turkey for Thanksgiving (bought and brought to the house live), a goat (also arrived at the houses live) and a rooster (same story).  Outside the compound fence, we also pursue individual interests: my roommate leads Bible  studies at her church, I coach youth rugby, and a couple of the guys play pick up sports with other Bungoma residents.  In 2010 I started to read tons of books and finished only a few: The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Travesty in Haiti, Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, Fingersmith, and the Kenya Lonely Planet x3.  I would never label my out-of-work lifestyle boring, at best it is often quiet and at worst a bit lonesome.  Is it worth it?  Yes.

So…

OAF will serve 55,000 farm families in 2011 between the Rwanda and Kenya operations.  With 6 or more family members in each family, that is over 330,000 people served in some form.  Unsurprisingly, working at OAF has been a non-stop learning process.  It’s also almost nonstop work—we could all easily work 7 days a week.  The hardest part of the work is not conceptual or theoretical, nor is the hardest part “learning agriculture” itself.  We work in a sector where the elements to success—good crop yields, market access, effective technology—are known, studied, frame-work-ed, summit-ed , conference-ed and activist-ed.

What I wrack my brain over morning coffees and late at night tea is how to ensure that a Kenyan field officer will properly teach a farmer how to plant a sukuma seedbed, how a Kenyan M&E agent will later visit that seedbed, whether or not they will understand the set of instructions on how to set up a harvesting test area in the seedbed, how accurately the agent will read the scale that weighs in grams, whether or not I believe that my logistics agent properly priced the scale, how to work a quality check of the scale each week with one of the field managers, what kind of document needs to go out to ensure that each manager and officer knows when and how to do each of these steps.  Then my mind will wander to the more permanent booklet or manual that make this one-time system a system that can be re-used  and edited whenever needed.   Finally, I go back to the biggest question ask myself “so how do we know if it worked?” at that I’ll review the excel data entry sheet, edit the instructions for the data entry agent, and prepare for the profitability analysis.  In that analysis will be profitability, adoption rates, rate of failure, and a ‘next steps’ summary.  The following day, I perhaps get to see those hours of work tested among my staff members, I’ll scribble feedback notes, make another round of edits, and then my Kenyan managers take the final protocols, instructions, and tools to the field for full implementation.   After that, it’s a matter of field visits, manager reports, and analyzing the data set updates, and handling any major crisis.  Sometimes I am unsure where the thrill of it all comes from, but it’s almost always there.

Hasta la proxima,

Kalie

Andrew is an excellent example of why I love my job. He’s a college educated local, with a really excellent work ethic. He’s all about his own career development, his personal education, and learning outside of the box. Right now he’s taking evening classes for a graduate degree, he’s devouring a copy of “The Audacity of Hope”, he’s managing 10-15 other Kenyan co-workers, and he asks phenomenal questions about work, politics, global events…you name it. There’s still a gulf of things that he and I don’t “get” about each other (we might start with his opinion that “women whine for attention too much”) but unsurprisingly, respect for each other reigns, and we end up with some great conversations in the hours that we spend to and from the field.

On this particular day, we head out to the field to check on the Sukuma Wiki project. Sukuma Wiki is a widely consumed collard green, it’s hardy, it produces edible leaves for 3-4 months at a time, it’s nutritious, and profitable.

Well, it’s profitable if grown in enough quantity. Otherwise, it’s just a little bit more for family consumption, something for getting by.

Scalability and profitability are the issues that the Sukuma project takes on, and Andrew and I have been monitoring 109 farmers’ planting, harvesting, and profits for about a month now. Each farmer started in March with 1000 seeds, a basic treatment kit, and trainings on care. Even though Sukuma is grown in most homesteads, raising 1000 seeds into seedlings and then into productive plants was a scale that the vast majority had never attempted.

109 farmers, through the course of the trainings and seedling care stages, dropped to 94 after the first few months, some farmers suffering chicken attacks on their plots, and other incidents. Andrew manages two “survey agents” who spend their days visiting these 94 farmers, recording their harvests (in kilograms) stem productivty, and market prices (shillings). At the end of the week, Andrew complies the information, and we add it to our “master” report. I won’t make any total revenue estimates yet, but I can say that it’s looking very promising.

Chicken attacks took down a few farmers' seedlings, but not this one. This "shed" protects the young seedlings from too much sunlight and the pesky chickens.

When Andrew and I go on these field visits, there tend to be two tiers of information gathering. We both look for quality of the data collection (is the agent using his data collection sheet properly?), health of the plants, uses of the vegetable (sale or consumption?), and customer feedback (does the client like this investment opportunity?). Then we often move onto the bigger picture—what we think about the results we are seeing, and perhaps new data that we might want to investigate. Since the start of harvests, we had uncovered an interesting fact—our farmers did not know which of the local markets was offering the best price for Sukuma. When our agents surveyed prices, one market was at 20 shillings a kilo, while the other was at 30 shillings a kilo.

Hundreds of healthy plants, harvest time!!

For the last few weeks, the price difference has been steady. The field team started reporting these market prices to the farmers at the start of the week, and sure enough, the number of farmers selling at the better market (rather than to neighbors, or to mini-markets away from the main towns) dramatically increased. Prices have remained very favorable for a month now, and one farmer has even scored a contract to sell to a local school, at a rate of 35 shillings per kg.

This little guy is another reason that field visits are so fun...

Andrew had an interesting comment about all of this monitoring and data collection. Before OAF, he worked for a VERY big NGO, known worldwide for everything from relief, to development, education, health, etc. A monolith organization (yep, I need to leave the name out, sorry). They paid Andrew five times the salary that he gets with OAF, and they also had him on a monitoring and evaluation team. Yet, to Andrew, the difference was clear, and frustrating. Back then, he knew he was doing “monitoring and evaluation” for the sake of donor reporting. Success meant getting the next grant. M&E was to get money, not for better “customer service.” It didn’t connect well to efficacy, or to change. Today, his data collection is about very real client level impact, and he likes treating our farmers as customers (since that’s what they are!), and figuring out products that work for them.

I am not sure if Andrew knows how much his reflection made my day. I don’t know if he knows that he sounds like an absolute poster child of sustainable, impact-driven work. It’s likely that he knows how his thinking orients to the vast world of “development” and NGOs. He did mean what he said. His comment definitely has become one of my favorite bullet points of my time here so far.

Smiles!
Kalie

March 2006: a group of high energy women’s club and national team ruggers awaited two busloads of 20-something,  mid-level DI collegiate, American women’s players.  It was really, really hot outside.  The  visitors’ vehicles bottomed out on the dirt road rather violently at the entrance gate.  An assessment of the pitch from passenger windows came back more or less “dry, hard  ground.”  Grass there was—though nothing forgiving.   The college women were jetlagged, and their hosts anxious to size them up.

The Brown University players met a smattering of their Ugandan counterparts under the shade of the Kyandondo clubhouse in Kampala.   The initial greetings lead into a fun, intense, and completely exhausting ten days of rugby.  They played 15’s in a heat and at an altitude that Brown had never seen.   They played 7’s in an international round-robin.  The Ugandans adjusted and controlled a skill level and strategies that their usual opponents lacked.  The Ugandans brought blazing speed and

ferocious contact.  The games redefined the college players’ idea of “commitment”—in physical and mental dimensions.  The home team capitalized on emotion—attracting thousands to watch the radical new happening in Ugandan women’s sports.

Feb 27^th 2010:  I rode through the Kyandondo gate via motorbike, cautioning the driver about the rough  entrance-way.  A  co worker and I bee-lined the bar, as we were e

arly for the 1:00pm women’s kickoff.  The pitch was much the same as in ‘06—looking pretty hard, but very playable.  Scanning for familiar faces—Christine, (the same inside center that towered over all of my Brown teammates,the same Christine who had shown our centers a thing or two about being trampled without complaint), was easy to spot.  To the question “remember me?” she responded, “Brown University, yes?”  I introduced my

co-worker from Kenya, who had come along for her first look at East African women’s rugby.  Christine’s still playing for the Kyandondo  (aka Thunderbirds) squad, but she explained there had been defections to the rival Black Panthers—the women’s team from across the road.  She wasn’t happy about that*  Other players from the ’06 events were there to shake hands and share updates.    The small talk indicated the mood was a little down as we ticked towards kickoff—the Thunderbirds  lacked numbers from injuries and absences .  Someone mumbled that the Panther captain never settles for postponement—it’s forfeit or play.  I didn’t comment—but the letdown was the familiar reaction of other small, firey teams I know.  I wasn’t worried that they didn’t have numbers on this particular day, but I did want to see some of them play ball.

The ref consulted the Panther party, and they went ahead and whistled a symbolic kickoff, allowing for  symbolic try.  The game went to the Panthers.  Then, I saw a familiar face: Charlotte, one of the former Thunderbirds-turned-Panther, ran over to the u19 boys who had been playing earlier.  I wasn’t sure what was going on, but then someone noted, “ah, they’ll play the boys.” We waited.

It was true.   The Panthers had challenged the boys , and the boys accepted.  Size wise, the Panthers seemed to have the advantage.  They looked much more fit than the boys.  As Panther player-coach Helen would tell me later—the women lift twice a week and do a good deal of fitness in addition to 3x weekly practice, and these boys weren’t all that experienced.  The boys racked up some points  via breakaways in the first 20 minutes—but their handling was weak and inconsistent.

It wasn’t long before the Panthers began to exploit—muscle over the breakdowns (the women rucked all-out, which seemed to confuse the other side greatly)  go wide until hemmed to sideline, and bring it back with solid inside support  (that the boys failed to pressure).

Territory went to the Panthers, as did most rucks.  There were some great tackles.   Both sides fell into 7’s habits often, but the women delivered thoughtful, accurate passes, and put pressure on the boys to pass into useless space.

By second half, the women had put point on the board as well.  The game looked fun.

The guys let a really young kid join in at some point he looked to be about 14.  The little guy got dragged around a bit, but it was good to see the next generation.

I saw one of the guys  join in with a Panther’s jersey, a new type of defection!

Most impressive was the 17-year old girl scrumhalf who the Panthers threw into the mix—she didn’t break 5ft, but she knew what she was doing and kept cool under pressure, and didn’t seem rattled in contact.  There’s upstart talent in the pipeline!

After the match, Charlotte took us around to the Panther’s home stadium, across the street.  We shared stories of where we’d been since 2006.  The Uganda women’s national team,(where Charlotte is a powerhouse) had a groundbreaking trip to the Dubai 7’s World Cup.  She said they got beat several times, but learned quite a lot.  Meanwhile, I got to tell her about Brown’s repeat trips to the US Collegiate National Playoffs and semifinals.  I told her that Brown returned from Uganda in ’06 inspired–  by our own adventure, and by our opponents intensity and talent.  We’d taken on the founding mothers of Ugandan rugby—and well knew what an honor it was.

Charlotte said that for now, the next big happening is Elgon Cup—a June event between Kenya and Uganda.  Men’s and women’s teams will be competing for regional bragging rights.  Sounds like a not-to-be-missed tradition.  I may work in Kenya, but  I can’t wait to go and make a rukus for the Ugandan heroines.

Play smart and hit hard,

Kalie

PS-  Check out the Ugandan women’s national team blogs of their World Cup experience:

http://www.ladycranesevensworldcupbound.blogspot.com/

http://www.ladycrane7.blogspot.com/

AND

The Black Panthers blog of their rugby lives and a look at the Kampala squads’ rivalries: http://www.blackpanthersrugbyclubuganda.blogspot.com/

*(note from opening)Christine wasn’t happy about the Panther defections, but I thought that was a good sign.   If the teams are going to keep on developing, the competition bar needs to keep rising.  If that means that players switch teams to get better coaching or better team dynamics, so be it.  They will need to keep up with eachother.   Ideally, they push eachother to be better week in and week out. Today Kampala has two full women’s teams (Black Panthers and the Thunderbirds), plus the u19 girls squad, the Rangers.

14 days in Kenya…

Here’s the short of it:
14 days on the job at One Acre Fund—great

14 days living in Bungoma, Kenya—busy

14 days adjusting to new co-workers —fun

Now for the long version:
Moving from the Dominican Republic to Western Kenya has produced an expected blur of change. From Beach-blessed and blue water country of 10 million, to this land of 40 million people, plus sub-Saharan rainy/dry season rotations.   I used to drink Santo Domingo coffee, and aimlessly wonder when DR coffee would start catching up with “Ethiopian” and “Sumatra,” and even more so “fair trade.”  Pre-earthquake Haiti was next door with plenty of struggles, and while tragic, Haiti’s story always had lessons to teach. Perusing a big supermarket this past weekend, Nescafe, Dormans, Out of Africa, and Java House competed for shelf space. All varieties of tea also fills fields and finds favor here. Thank you Kenya, for being so drinkable!  I can now sit on the shores of Lake Victoria with delicious black tea, gaze in the direction of Uganda, and try to get a handle on understanding a different regional mess: Somalia.  There is a lot to learn.

Most of what I’ve seen of Kenya comes via Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel. Yes, famous Big Five safari animals are topics of local newspaper articles (just saw one about relocating zebra and wildebeest to a drought-stricken area to become starving lions’ dinner) alongside the hotly debated national constitutional revamp in parliament. I need to stop getting caught off guard by the the British-english dialect when Kenyan co workers say things like “I was trying to open the car, whereby there were no keys” or “Madam, good morning”
There was infamous election violence in Kenya in 2007, which left some towns in destruction and others (llke here in Bungoma) oddly unscathed. Christianity dominates alongside a hefty mix of Hindu and Muslim beliefs. Politics, tribes, religion, class…the mixing of it all here makes for a very detailed social fabric. For better or worse, the first two weeks haven’t left much time for the whats, whos and whys of Kenya. A page from my Dominican-molded intuitions say “espeeeerate chica! take your time!”

This new chapter so far is one lens: “farmer’s first!” OAF’s founder, (here and now , he’s also my next door neighbor), has assembled an impressive locally driven and expat-suported NGO. It’s a spin on the common microfinance model going more or less something like this:
1) OAF purchases agricultural inputs (quality seeds, fertilizer)
2) OAF trains farmers (usually living on one acre of land or less )in sustainable, high yield small farm practices
3) Famers go through group trainings with OAF local staff
4) Farmers receive inputs on credit, and plant according to OAF training
5) Farmers harvest (on average seeing MORE than 50% increases in yield per farm)
6) Farmers pay back OAF for inputs , training, cost of program, etc.

OAF is seeing repayment rates  in some regions at about 99%, and since their inception in 2006, constantly works to improve and refine the model. One Kenyan co-worker recently told me, “when we started, the farmers thought we’d just be another NGO that collapsed after five years. But they know that they repay, they know that we can keep going. So they like us, they stay with us.”

OAF is big on monitoring, evaluation and product testing, my latest passion. Extensive in-country farming tests investigate different planting techniques, profitability estimates, and roadmaps for the future. Every Monday, the field offices assemble their staff and analyze their own KPI (key performace indicators) regionally, and down to individual officer  level.  Staff share their successes and struggles.  Statistical leaders are applauded, those at the bottom rankings get encouragement and advice.  Delicious masala tea gets passed around while cows moo outside, but it’s all business: there’s the week’s agenda handed down from headquarters, there’s new trainings to learn, timelines to know, repayments to count, etc. The word “feedback” reigns.  OAF pushes for structural integrity, meaning managers and their subordinates should be mentors and the mentored, avoiding a “yes sir” culture. For those who despair wasted efforts, time, bureaucracy, and irrational behavior in run of the mill non profits, this type of place incites a giddy smile.

Anyway, the first two weeks have plopped me into coordinating duties on a Sukuma Wiki (collard greens/kale) planting project. OAF is looking for the best crop combinations to include in their “core program” (versus “experimental” program). Right now maize is the feature item of the core program. Cash crops like Grevalia trees are being rolled out as an addition this year, results to be announced 2-3 years out. OAF works to analyze what farmers already do to survive, agricultural expertise (usually Kenyan) to explain best practices, cutting input costs, and tries to deliver the most effective training and input packages possible.

The Sukuma project, for instance, is targeted to maximize the potential of a plant that is already used to when families get low on food. Sukuma Wiki literally means “stretch the week.” When the 109 test farmers finish with this project harvest in June (they received their seeds last week) ,my co workers and I will see what goes on when more Sukuma becomes available on a farm—perhaps families with stabilize their consumptions, perhaps they will sell it, perhaps it won’t grow well…etc. Alongside the “action,” staff check in and monitor progress. Expats dutifully support, but never “take over” these programs: they are for the local staff to manage, and we’re here to fill in capacity gaps.

Today’s paper mentioned a different part of Kenya where the government failed to buy farmers’ maize crops (which the government had pushed the region to grow in the first place)—leaving entire fields to rot. That will produce some extremely harsh results for some families. Nothing is guaranteed, even when it’s needed most. The income of a farmer anywhere faces high risk, and here the stakes are further accented. Working with an acre or less means that every gram of fertilizer (the most expensive input) can make a difference. A shipment of thousands of micro-dosing scoops(at $0.02 each) are sitting in our expat housing compound, specifically designed for OAF farmers.  They will be a new addition to this year’s planting, so that farmers use exactly what they need, without wasting grams of the expensive resource. Such a little step seems like over-kill, but it’s not: the line between profit and hunger is thin and somewhat unpredictable, OAF watches the line closely as a guide and as reminder: farmer’s first. The additional $0.02 scoop will save plenty more money for farmers in t

he long run, and repeat farmers can use that one scoop over several seasons. With an institution like OAF in place, the specialized inputs and trainings have an effective and cost cutting delivery mechanism.

In the weeks, months, and year to come, there will be plenty more to learn about Kenya. For now, I will take the “farmers first” motto as my first bridge into this place. More to come!!!

Much love,

Kalie

Water here arrives seasonally, collecting groundwater means kids, moms, and small entrepreneurs shape their lives around water collection and delivery.

My Dominican co-workers wore sweaters to work when temperature fell below 70 degrees in December. “Winter is cold here,” friends and employees told me. While I stuck to my t-shirts in the day, I did cut short my nightly unheated showers.

Mujeres Necesitades outside the Hato Mayor office: these bank members finished a loan in December and took out another, expecting that December would be a better month for sales. Numerous community banks reported throughout October and November that they had seen an economic downturn in their areas. Many credit the worldwide economic crisis. Most expected improvements as the new year approached.

At Esperanza International, offices in El Seibo and Hato Mayor recently worked through a large number of loan cycle renewals. Many community banks successfully wrapped up their six-month payment plans in early December, and promptly transitioned to another round, taking advantage of the annual rise in consumer demand around Chritsmastime and New Years. Not only was it gift-giving season, December also marks the start of the zafra, the sugarcane cutting season. Notoriously brutal, sugarcane has a legacy and a reality that can falls somewhere on the “excessively exploitative” industry spectrum. One colleague calls the trade  “a 19th century system that has just stuck around.” Undocumented Haitian migrant workers both survive by and suffer under the sugarcane economy. Sugarcane plantation communities, bateys, are strikingly isolated, resource-poor, and under-served. Bateys are also home to many of Esperanza’s community banks.
During a December interview, Cloreta, a Kiva-funded entrepreneur explained her situation simply, “this loan lets me keep food on the table.” While most of my Kiva interviews touch on hopes to pay school fees, open full-service stores, or repair individual homes, this conversation centered on a battle for subsistence.  Many of the challenges facing Cloreta relate to living on a batey.

The Caribe Tours bus stop in Santo Domingo. Getting around the Dominican isn't too hard. These 60-some person buses go to all major cities. Smaller 25 person vans, taxis, motos, and other vehicles make up a wide array of transport options. Any combination of these methods gets you almost anywhere.

Away from the plantations, it is easy to gather an optimistic impression of economic development in the Dominican. Bus companies, motos*, guaguas*, carros publicos* and decent road infrastructure allow access to many nooks and crannies of cities and countryside.  Motorcycle and scooter businesses fill streets with thundering packs of personal transport. There are innumerable dance clubs. Free trade zones in several cities employ thousands of workers, and the government seems to enforce some basic employment rights. Semi-rural towns have restaurants and motels. A significant number of young adults attend a battery of urban universities; degrees in medicine, computer engineering, accounting, and tourism studies are popular. Cable television, DSL internet, and Playstations regularly

Cheap, easy, and crowded city transport: the carro publico. Cram in six perhaps seven passengers. About 50 cents a ride.

Example of starting small: a bag's worth of clothes to sell. This entrepreneur hopes to expand over time.

appear in middle-income homes. Entrepreneurs are able to access large inventory vendors to buy in bulk. Entrepreneurs in rural and semi-rural areas can access main roads, and streams (although sometimes small) of clients who both live and pass through their communities. A good number of Esperanza bank members from all of these areas show convincing progress over time: a small food stand advances into a variety-goods colmado, a clothing seller goes from selling out of a backpack to setting up her own home-side storefront. These same entrepreneurs also talk of changing their tactics and strategies and adjusting their inventories and in order to fit into the best local economic niche.  There is both flexibility and possibility.

Entering a batey is a distinct experience. Generally, long tire-pounding dirt roads wind their way from main thoroughfares into seas of cane– tall, stiff, and green. Austere cookie-cutter housing (built by the government or

private companies), sits secluded on cleared-out land somewhere amidst the green. Plumbing is rare. Some bateys have schoolhouses, others have no sanitary water. Some cane companies have abandoned the bateys themselves, but the crop still grows and locals harvest and sell it on their own. Bateys still under commercial control may have company stores, chunks of wages paid in “store credit” rather than cash, and rules forbidding locals to vend similar goods in the batey. Much like undocumented immigrants in the United States, Haitians cross the Dominican border in great need of work, and form the backbone of the most physically demanding and poorly paid workforce in the country. Human rights groups narrate a story of slave-like conscription and labor conditions, (local Dominicans may agree or disagree with that characterization). Migrant workers’ vulnerability, however, goes undisputed. The communities generally speak any mix of Kreyol and Spanish. If families have come “illegally” from Haiti**, they lack legal status, along with their children.

Sea of cane (Credit: Kayla Villnow)

Children of Haitians born in the Dominican stand in a citizenship void: unrecognized by either government. Dominican officials periodically rounds up illegal Haitains for mass deportations– another reason to remain isolated in the cane. Dominican radio talk show hosts may engage the topic of the “Haitian problem” from time to time.  Rosy is not the word for the Haitian-Dominican relationship. The roster of issues is long.

UN peacekeeping in Haiti (credit: www.pbase.com) See postscript.

Cloreta lives on a company-owned batey.  She is a Haitian immigrant, as are the majority of her neighbors.   She sells modest foodstuffs—crackers, sugar, and coffee, oil and flour. She explained that she’d like to sell more diverse products, but this would conflict with the rules of the company-owned store. At the time (early December) she pointed out that the first wages of the

Some bateys have basic community infrastructure, such as school houses.

season would arrive in about a week. When cane cutters get paid, the batey economy gains liquidity, and Cloreta can take in cash.  As she said, right now her income really only allows her to subsist and pay back her loan.  The Esperanza payments, however, include mandatory savings, so at the end of her loan she will end up with an additional cushion.

The cane season will continue until the summer.  Perhaps the six-month period will allow Cloreta to add to her savings, and allow her to reach beyond the “food on the table” goal.   Cloreta plans on continuing with her microloans, she sees this opportunity as completely worthwhile.   Other community members clearly have taken notice: the bank was training at least ten new members that day.  During our interview, one of Cloreta’s colleagues was busy at work translating the loan officer’s information into Kreyol, since several knew no Spanish.

Fruits of much labor: a Kiva-funded bank gathered in a colleague's convenience store. A good example of successful growth over time.

I can’t decide if it’s fair to say that the cane season makes December and entirely “sweeter” month than others.  Regardless, the batey clients certainly are skilled “lemonade” chefs, given all of the “lemons” they get.

Hasta la proxima,

Kalie, Kiva Fellow-Dominican Republic

(written from Los Alcarrizos)

*guaga: a van or truck, usually smaller than a 60 person bus.   May also refer to buses. Motos: motorcycle taxi.  Usually $1 or $2 a ride.  Carros publicos: run down recycled cars that run designated routes in cities.  About 50 cens a ride.

** Postcript on Haiti: Haiti today is considered a “failed state.” In the fall of 2008, hurricanes killed hundreds of Haitians, and completely destroyed entire communities. The latest of a series of UN peacekeeping forces has been stationed in the country since 2004 (UN-Haiti missions date back to 1993), in response to continued political violence between the Haitian government and other forces vyying for power. Many Haitians who attempt to leave the country cross over to the Dominican Republic (a rather pourous border). As undocumented workers, much like in the United States, they become the cheap-labor source for cane-cutting.
The racial and cultural divides between Dominicans and Haitians is palpable. A textbook might narrate the complexities of Haitian history from its birth via the famous country-wide slave uprising(Haiti is the world’s oldest black republic) to years of occupation, dictatorship, violent political instability, and today’s profound poverty. Meanwhile, day to day life in the Dominican reveals deeply seated ideas of race—the common phrase“black as a Haitian” is one way to call someone unattractive. As a Catholic-dominated country, many Dominicans also come up with wild stories of Haitian Voodoo practice: from baby-eating to witch-curses. Concurrently, many Dominicans emphatically reject the idea that racism partly defines Dominican-Haitian relationship.

I just got off the phone with someone directly responsible for a dramatic shift my life took at age 17: Angelita Perez.

Angelita and her family hosted my stay in the Dominican Republic in 2002. The family provided a room, a home, watchful eyes, constant support, and delicious handmade fruit juices within the wooden walls of their rural home. We spent moonlit nights talking about history, politics, and religion. We spent days planning community projects and working on my then-choppy spanish skills. They loved every story about my mother, father, and sister. We giggled and laughed, we even had some at-home dance parties.

A small solar panel lit one or two household lightbulbs, the water had to be boiled, the backyard laterine was menacing at night, and our “shower” a torn-up tarp and cold tap contrapcion well within view of passing vehicles. Rice, beans, and a bit of meat were lunchtime fare. I was a daughter of theirs—it did not matter that I had appeared midday in June fresh from some distant US metropolis. I did not have to prove anything to them. It did not matter how much money I had or didn’t have—they sought no compensation—just a lasting connection from the heart. Angelita and her family gave, and they gave—teaching me by living, by showing, and by sharing. A few nights before my summer trip was over, Angelita made me promise to “look at the moon, and I’ll look at the moon, and when we both look at the moon, we can think of eachother.”

By the end of seven weeks with Angelita three children and husband, I had received so much generosity and pure kindness—my world was simply shaken. I had come as a volunteer, as a “community leader” with the Amigos de las Americas program—but the real substance of my stay lifted my mind, imagination, my heart in new directions. I left the Dominican in 2002 brimming with questions, and with a persistent discontent with much of my Stateside existence.

Six years later, after college essays about the Perez family, with the consistent patience and understanding of my American family, after many classes at Brown all about theories, policies, and history, after experiences in East Africa and Mexico, after work for different nonprofit causes, after stress over resumes, careers, qualifications, and the definition of “merit,” I’ve only started the real work on my “shaken discontent.” My American parents and my Dominican familia have deeply marked my past and present paths. What Angleita left as fodder for my shaken discontent, my Washington family fanned with encouragement—to explore. It is this lasting discontent—that pushes, always asking “so what?” regarding academics, internships, and cover letters. Not to be mistaken—me and this lasting unease have learned to work well together. It is a reference point, a way of judging where I am and where I might want to go. Shaken discontent has helped me “find” myself in so many ways, while also remembering to keep at “it”—always ask, never quite settle.

What do I say to someone after six years who changed my life? Whose generosity, whose community, marked me with lasting values and goals? From resume to research reports—there is almost always a hint of Angelita’s influence hovering. I owe the Perez’s who knows how much—more than just gratitude, or credit..something deeper. The first step I could come up with today –make plans to catch up!

The call went through unexpectedly—first to Angelita’s sister in Santo Domingo—who initially seemed reluctant to believe some American girl was calling her up for her sister’s number, and claiming to have lived in rural Los Cerezos six years prior. After explaining the same story to the grandaughter, Aunt Tita finally went to get her phonebook, and suddenly I had two cell phone numbers for Angelita. I felt incredible gratitude towards the Domincan cell phone companies—just for existing!

My first words were “Angelita, it’s Kalie.”

Her reaction was…loud…and the line became unintelligible with the rush of “Kilies” that flooded through the connection…and my huge smile through the phone was unmistakeable for the next fifteen minutes. Paolo also got on the phone—the young daughter, now twelve—immediately excited to talk—and drop a few English phrases into our chat. Angelita is still teaching elementary school in Los Cerezos, husband Pablo is doing fine, the older siblings are studying pre-professional subjects, the neighbor has moved up the road with her mother. As for me, my sister is doing fine, and yes, the financial crisis is tough, and of course I saved Aunt Tita’s number! The multiple “miss you so much” and “how is so-and-sos” repeated themselves every thirty seconds. The family and I will either meet up in Santo Domingo in Janurary or in Los Cerezos. I can’t wait. Also, Angelita reminded me that she’s stuck to what she said about the moon, just like me.

Santiago, DR

Romance languages are famous for invoking visual imagery, symbolism, and subtlety in phrasings and word choice. In the Spanish-speaking world, the language maps out like a watershed: tributaries flowing from Spain to the Caribbean, from California to South America, and everywhere in between. The bedrock of European Spanish has long since been covered and mixed with “New World” sediments; verbal gems from New York City, Santo Domingo,  Boston, San Juan, Miami, Havana, and Los Angeles streets have nestled themselves into daily Latin American lives. A casual “hello” today in Mexico may be meaningless (or perhaps offensive!) in Honduras. The art of cussing would make a fabulous encyclopedia series.

A Santiago Monument-I wonder if these lights are always on!

Learning Dominican Spanish means developing an ear for its accelerated tempo, truncated invocations, vague generalities, and regular references to God’s will. Need directions? Forget landmarks and right-left-north-south. It is hard to get beyond “back there,” “up there,” “nearby” “sort of nearby” and “ up there, far.” Similarly, many things happen “soon” but when, exactly, remains unknown.

When the lights go out here at the Esperanza-Santiago office (almost every single day)—we all chime in with “se fue la luz” the light left (went out). While in English we also employ “the power is out,” “se fue la luz” uses the same phrasing as to say that person has departed. This always leaves me with the sense that the light left on its own accord—you know, it decided to take a break. It wasn’t “shut off,” or lost. It just, left.

The reality is that power problems are chronic in the DR. The power plants and other infrastructure is insufficient. To keep the Santiago office running (or a similar enterprise), it is necessary to buy a set of  back-up rechargeable batteries (inverters) to make up for power deficiency. Of course, the back-ups will fail too. The Esperanza office manager and I are often up to our ears in delayed data-entry and email tasks.

The streetlight lets us know if we have power...if not...protestors might burn a tire or two

Almost everyone here in Santiago is vulnerable to power outages, whether you pay your bills or not.  In a few neighborhoods, local tigres “street guys” will occasionally light afire a tire or two in frustrated protest. They and the police will also sometimes exchange gunfire, on particularly caliente days.

For Esperanza clients, electricity—lack of it—is part of the status quo. Microfinance businesses are adapted to the circumstances—I have yet to meet a client who needs regular electricity to do business. Entrepreneurs sidestep the risk of relying on the unreliable—and its monthly cost. Women who sew clothes do it by hand or with non-electric machines, women with colmados (small food stores) do not invest in fridge-needy inventory. Beauty product peddlers, shoe sellers, and the women with home hair washing salons—they don’t require electricity either.*

While the micro-businesses mostly keep electric problems at arm’s

A home based nail salon--no electricity required!

length—it also becomes clear that electricity is like a “limiting nutrient.” How far can a personal colmado grow before it needs to sell cold beverages? Or a food vendor needs to buy refrigerated goods? Ice? Of course, Esperanza and other microfinance organizations prove very effective at these critical points—poised to provide the extra $500-$1000 for the backup batteries, freezers, and refrigerators via the microloan process.

office inverters, aka backup batteries. Pricey.

Having a business that does require a significant power supply—is quite a statement. Having more than backup inverters, and consistent funds to pay the electric company. The only places that seem to operate with 100% reliable electricity are places such as commercial banks, large supermarkets, and Santiago’s fully-loaded mall. For everyone else, improved infrastructure and power plants are also somewhere in the government agenda— perhaps something will improve “soon.” Until things get sorted out, the light leaves when it pleases.

That’s all for now!

Questions? Comments? Post ‘em!

Up Next: Stories from San Pedro de Macoris!

Cuidanse, take care,

Kalie Gold

Kiva Fellow, KF6 Dominican Republic

To fund Esperanza International Loans on Kiva.org please go to:

http://www.kiva.org/app.php?page=businesses&partner_id=44&status=fundRaising&sortBy=New+to+Old

* Postscript: Much more than electricity costs are out of reach for other Esperanza clients. In La Chichigua (the Kite) I met a brand new Esperanza village bank—who have named themselves Fey y Amor (Faith and Love). The community is planted in a verdant Santiago hillside—and is neighbored by a few luxurious suburban mansions. But La Chichigua remains outside of government oversight, the electric grid, and the city water pipes. According to a loan officer, this is one way to live cheap. La Chichigua residents risk mudslides and flash floods in order to live on squatted land, with a free hillside stream, and the “security” that they will be left alone.

]]> http://kaliegold.wordpress.com/2008/11/05/the-lights-went-out-for-a-walk/feed/ 1 kaliegold dsc00122 streetlight nail-salon backup-batts http://kaliegold.wordpress.com/2008/10/29/some-faces-and-places/ http://kaliegold.wordpress.com/2008/10/29/some-faces-and-places/#comments Wed, 29 Oct 2008 04:21:31 +0000 kaliegold http://kaliegold.wordpress.com/?p=81 ]]> More pics from visiting the village banks….

One of several women who runs a mini salon out of here home, her daughter helps out. In terms of customers, 3 or 4 a day over the weekends is about average for her.

Dolores has a certificate of training from a styling school

Dolores (left) shared some details of her bussiness with me.   She has been working for 10 years, however has had to abandon the home-based salon several times due to lack of funds for products.  With her micro-loan, she is  now able to stock it and stay in bussiness.  She charges between 90 and 180 pesos ($2.50-$5) for cutting hair, depending on length.  She will do a manicure for 180 as well, and a pedicure for only 80.  For hair relaxing, she charges 200-400 pesos ($5.50-$11).

Arelis (center below) is an Esperanza client on her second loan.  She has used both to expand the variety of products that she sells to community members.  I asked her about local competition, and she reports that she doesn’t have anyone directly competing with her.  With her most recent loan, Arelis bought little games for kids to buy.  She says that a good day she makes more than 100 pesos (about $3). In the past, she also has worked in large company factories, but feels more secure being in charge of her own work and bussiness.

Arelis in front of her store

Wires to be stripped in hand

The woman to the right is the only copper-wire collector I have met!  She buys used electrical wires in bulk, strips them, and sells the copper inside by the pound.  She buys the wires at about 35 pesos ($1) a pound a sells the copper for about 45 pesos a pound.  Profit: about 30 cents a pound.

Below, Claribel Ademan sits inside her colmado (convenience store).   While she is neighbors with Arelis (see above) the two do not consider eachother competitors, primarily because Arelis has much more variety of goods than Claribel.  They both, it seems, have a set of community customers.  Additionally, Claribel focuses on food in her store.  With five kids, she is a busy woman!

Claribel, mother of five