A Little Piece, by Benjamin Harris

While participating and being actively involved in development work, a bilateral exchange usually occurs whereby the Westerner learns more from the community than aid or help is actually given. During these bilateral experiences, people use clichés such as, “enlightening, life altering and change.”  This idealism, and “do-good spirit,” quickly transforms, when one actually sees the harsh reality facing the developing world. As an African American, I was completely ignorant about Africa before coming to Kenya. My knowledge consisted of a romanticized view of old culture and ancient wisdom. Before arriving, I promised myself to fully throw my being into the culture and the ways of the people in Kenya. I knew I wanted to work in human rights; as a lawyer in the States, rights are coveted, and we are trained to zealously defend people’s rights. Once I arrived at my host family’s home, visions of Africa were streaming into my mind; some of the images were stereotypical but there were also colors, bright ones, with mamas selling sweet breads and fruits. There were men with the arduous task of pushing carts of produce, with the fierce sun blessing their skin, along with graceful Swahili women wearing bui bui and hijabs.  I completely emerged myself into my family life; I gave up my vegetarian diet and I dedicated myself to learning Swahili. For me, Kenya started to change from the stereotypical picture of Africa being a dirty place, corrugated iron roofs, and idle men, into a burgeoning culturally complex country with a lot to offer the world. My volunteer experience truly started at F.I.D.A (Federation of Women Lawyers) office in Mombasa. F.I.D.A is an international well-funded organization that promotes equality and due process of law for women.

Kenya is a country fighting its colonial history and present day social and economic problems.  Many of the economic calamities facing sub-Sahara Africa are rooted in cultural, social, economic and legal upheaval that occurred during the colonial era. Many of the citizens in Kenya believe corruption is rife and that ethnic tensions are thwarting economic and infrastructure development. All of these issues came to head during the 2008 elections with full-scale ethnic violence and the creation of the Grand Coalition Government.

Currently, the citizens are growing weary of the Grand Coalition government. The citizens want more transparency and accountability. Food prices have surged and the local newspapers are inundated with stories alleging corruption by government officials.  Local organizations and NGOs are actively engaging in dialogue and addressing issues pertaining to human rights and good governance. In fact, G10, a prominent women’s group, urged fellow female citizens to boycott sex to pressure the government to act more responsible and accountable to the citizens. Many citizens are discouraged. The resonating theme of doom and self-destruction is all too common as Kenyans discuss their plight. Speculations of extra-judicial killing and assassinations are troubling to the citizens and the human rights activists’ community.

Constructive dialogue is the precursor for ideological and paradigm shifts in society. Sustainable development has to be rooted in fostering and creating safe spaces for dialogue, in order for true change to take place. My work with F.I.D.A is inextricably link with empowering the local citizenry, primarily women. Kenya, like some other African societies, is patriarchal. Therefore, certain cultural customs can at times violate Kenyan law and Western perceptions of fundamental rights.  As a western trained lawyer, it is difficult to juggle cultural autonomy and fundamental rights. Many women are solely supported by their husbands, which can place them in a precarious situation if their rights are violated by their spouses. F.I.D.A offers an avenue of legal advocacy and a safe space to foster dialogue to empower women.  It is an awesome experience to actively advocate for women to take ownership of their lives and watch them challenge their spouses in court by exercising their legal rights. A voice, an avenue, a safe space to challenge and debate is essential in equalizing society and addressing the imbalance of power in Kenyan society.

F.I.D.A concentrates on women’s right, but women’s rights are not exclusive, nor does the topic operate in a vacuum, but in a civil society, everyone must have equal protection under the law. F.I.D.A , at times, is viewed as an agitator or “un-Africa,” but the dialogue and discussion the organization fosters concerning human rights is vital. Mombasa, Kenya is perfectly blended with various cultures, ethnic groups and religions. Discussions about rights can easily be muddle with discussions about cultural sensitivity and religious freedom.  Well, the issue of human rights is not an easy discussion and answers will not be black or white but with dialogue and constructive debate cultural sustainable answers can be reached to address the legal ills facing Kenyan society. During the historical Obama presidential campaign, I witnessed Kenya come together under the umbrella of pride for the son of a fellow statesman, such zeal and energy was magical. I firmly believe that same energy can be used to transform society. And with organizations such as F.I.D.A , the dialogues about empowering women and women’s rights are opening doors and challenging the status quo. Granted, F.I.D.A’s work is just a small piece, but that little piece will fit in the large piece of creating a society that can adequately provide shelter, clothing, food, health care and sanitation to its citizens, while ensuring that people live with dignity.

Endeleo, by Josh Silverman

My Work Plan : A Summary

June 23, 2009
First of all, let me just say that I cannot believe that I have already been in Kakamega for over a month. Talk about how time flies! Even scarier, however, is the thought that I only have one month left to accomplish any of my goals at work. As I mentioned in my last post, I spent a lot of time during weeks 2 and 3 formulating my work plan. How could I have a sustainable impact on KES and the Kakamega community? This was a really difficult question to answer, and after hours of deliberation I decided not to focus on just one idea, but instead to work on a series of small projects that cold improve the cooperative’s effectiveness in Kakamega.

My first objective is to facilitate the involvement of current members and the recruitment of new members. KES has over 400 members, but suffers from a very high monthly default rate due to their “goodwill” debt collection procedures in which members are expected to pay monthly without any staff or loan officers to guide them. This high rate of default is detrimental to the cooperative’s growth and I believe it needs to be addressed as soon as possible if the SACCO is to reach its goal of being fully operational by 2012. My first idea is to create a quarterly newsletter, targeted specifically at members who have been dormant for more than two months. This newsletter (only 4 pages long) is almost complete and will be ready for KES’ Annual General Meeting scheduled to occur on June 27th. In addition, I am hoping to implement new incentive programs to encourage continuous payment of loans and member recruitment. Specifically, a member who makes loan payments every month for a year (a rarity in the current records) will receive the last month’s interest free, a member who pays his shares every month for a year will get the opportunity to take out a loan at a lower interest rate (.8% monthly instead of 1%), and members who recruit new members will receive a certain amount of money for every member they bring in. Finally, I have agreed to help the SACCO design a sign to help advertise their location on the main road of the town. These are all very simple ideas, but I hope that in combination they will give KES a boost in member recruitment and involvement.

My second objective is to update their accounting systems. Currently, the bookkeeper uses Microsoft Excel for all accounts, but none of her spreadsheets are dynamic. In other words, she adds everything up with a calculator (and occasionally makes mistakes along the way) instead of using formulas (as simple as auto sum) that could calculate everything automatically. I have already worked out a good system, but my goal is not to just teach the bookkeeper to use the system that I have created. Instead, I am trying to teacher her how to create general dynamic spreadsheets – that way after I am gone she will be able to design efficient systems of data management using excel as the need arises.

Thirdly, I am working with KES’ microfinance sector to jumpstart a new group of boda boda drivers. This is probably the part of my project that I am most excited about. A boda boda is essentially a bicycle taxi, who shuttles people around all day for about 15 cents per trip on average. Most of the drivers (there are hundreds of them) have no other way of making a living – many have even finished high school or university but just don’t have any other career options. Our goal is to get a group of 15 boda bodas to start saving monthly for four months, after which they will have the opportunity to take out a small business loan. After this loan is paid back, they will eventually take out a bigger loan and will thus be given the opportunity to work their way up out of poverty.

At first I was unsure that we would be able to get a group of bodas interested in this kind of project – as a matter of fact KES tried to implement this kind of project with an FSD intern last year and the project was ultimately unsuccessful – but last week I was happy to find that my fears were unfounded. I met with the bodas for the first time on Friday, and it was probably the most powerful experience I have had since coming to Kenya. We met for about an hour in a small hot room, with someone translating what I was saying sentence by sentence into Kiswahili and then translating their questions back into English. After their skepticism had been assuaged (many Kenyan workers have been victims of fraudulent pyramid schemes), I could sense the excitement and nervousness in their tone of voice. Nobody had ever before put their faith in the hands of these boda drivers, and I believe they saw in this newfound trust an opportunity to change their lives. Contrary to my expectations, they were very proactive about organizing their next meeting time and even asked if they could bring new members. At the next meeting (July 3rd) we will go over/amend the group constitution, and elect officers (chairman, treasurer, secretary).

My final project involves evaluating the KES Strategic Management Plan that was created in 2007. In the SMP, KES has set specific goals for each year from 2008 to 2012 (ie. number of members, amount of capital etc.) and I plan to go through their records and make a report detailing their progress.

In the end, I hope that some if not all of my projects will be sustainable, and will help KES to reach the goals outlined in their SMP.

Rural Discoveries, Religious Experiences

August 3, 2009
Around the 4th or 5th weekend I was in Kenya, I ventured into an extremely rural area on the outskirts of Kakamega. Actually the way that this trip came about was kind of funny – my host mom mentioned that her nephew was coming over and that I would go for a walk with him (people in Kenya don’t really ask questions in English – they just give polite commands). Apparently “go for a walk” meant get into a matatu for half an hour and drive out to his house where I would be staying for the night. You can imagine that came as somewhat of a shock but after the initial panic I just rolled with it. As we drove, paved roads turned into dirt roads, and eventually even the dirt roads disappeared until we were driving on just grass.

My host cousin’s name was Simon and he was in his mid 20’s. He took me to his house where I met his family and stayed with him for the night. The house was on a compound, which is the most common familial structure in rural parts of Kenya. The compounds generally contain 4 or 5 houses with members of both the immediate and extended family living there. For example: one house might be for the grandfather and grandmother, and the others for each of their sons and their respective families. In the morning Simon led me through the thick fields surrounding his house. While almost all of the crops I had seen in Kenya previously consisted of maize (corn), this field was filled with sugar cane. Sugar cane plants are huge, probably eight to ten feet tall, and once you are in the middle of a big field there is really no way to tell which way is out (unless you know where you are going). Simon ripped a smaller piece of cane out of the ground, and bit off the ends revealing the woody, sugary innards of the plant that cane sugar is made out of and that people commonly chew on. I took a piece to chew and it was delicious, although it was so sweet that I actually got a little bit light headed. I tried to bite the wood off a piece of sugar cane myself to get to the sugar on the inside and I swear I almost broke my jaw – to make me feel better Simon claimed that Kenyans have very strong teeth. My favorite conversation of that weekend (and possibly of the trip) went as follows:

Simon: I like to travel very much.
Me: Oh really? Where have you been?
Simon: Throughout Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania.
Me: Cool! If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?
Simon: America!
Me: Which state? (expecting New York or California – the most common answers)
Simon: Texas.
Me: Really? Why Texas? (surprised)
Simon: Chuck Norris.

No further explanation necessary.

The next weekend, I went to a church in Amalemba with my family. This was also one of the most interesting experiences of the trip. As you may know, I normally wouldn’t be the first in line to attend a church service, but it seemed like a great cultural experience and I figured I had to go at least once while I was there. I was surprised when I first arrived in Kakamega to discover how Christian most people there are. When you walk down the street on a Sunday morning, you see can see and hear a church service at almost every corner. One Sunday I even tried to go running at the track, but decided not to because there was a service in the stadium!

From my experiences, however, I found that the church service in Kenya is very different from the average American church service. While I imagine most services in America being more subdued, Kenyan church services are adorned with extremely loud music, and intense preaching and singing (and dancing of course). No matter how dilapidated the structure of a church may have been, I don’t think I ever saw one that was lacking a sound system equipped for a movie theater.

The church service I attended with my host family was somewhat small. While the structure probably could have fit about 200 people, I would estimate that there were about 30 people in attendance. At the front was an altar, and to the side a keyboard player who was essentially the church DJ, playing quiet, eerie music during solemn speeches, and slowly transitioning to uplifting music (fully equipped with keyboard driven techno beats) when appropriate. Upon entering the church I realized that there seemed to be some excitement among the congregants. I wasn’t sure why, but I thought maybe there was some kind of special event going on that day. It turns out that there was – me.

Before I walked in, three very old ladies approached me – they could not speak English or even Swahili, only the mother tongue of the Luhya tribe, Kiluhya. After some difficulty in their attempts to communicate with me, someone translated that they were very excited to have me at their church and wished they could express that to me in my language. That was a really moving moment.

After being welcomed into the church, I was asked to introduce myself to the congregation at the front of the room with a microphone. This was definitely a little bit nerve racking (and surprising), but I was happy to give it a shot. I used whatever Swahili I knew to say my name, where I was from, and why I was in Kakamega. The crowd seemed very grateful and applauded for me when I was done speaking.

Most of the service was in Swahili so it was difficult to understand, although I am aware that I was in some way part of the sermon because I kept hearing the word “mzungu” interspersed throughout the pastor’s speech. The best part of the service for me, however, was definitely the upbeat music and dancing. They also had a 4-part choir that sang gospel songs that were really cool. Also unlike in America, instead of passing around a collection plate, there is a period in the service when the collection plate is at the front of the room and each row approaches the plate, while singing a specific song, and makes a donation. I thought this was a really interesting ritual.

At the end of the service, everyone went outside and we stood in a large circle holding hands. Prayers were said for everyone in the community, announcements were made, and then we dispersed. Many different groups gathered – men’s groups, youth groups, women’s group etc. and began to talk about whatever other activities they had planned for the coming week. This made me realize that the church, more than any other institution, really was the center of the community for my host family and the other congregants. Besides the religious aspect, it gave them an outlet to talk about their community, their experiences and their individual lives.

FE$: Foundation for Ecological Security

A look at the summer lives of four undergrads working on an environmental development project with the Foundation for Ecological Security.

Friday, July 17, 2009: Cribs: The Village Edition

This week marked an important occasion: we moved into a village about 2 hours away from Udaipur and began working on our project. FES has asked us to make an assessment of one particular region with the eventual goal of developing a relationship with those communities and implementing environmental projects there. Our work this week mostly consisted of holding meetings with community members (all men) to create a map of the community’s resources and to get a general overview of life in the village. The meetings went well, although it can get really frustrating to watch people have an animated conversation in an inaccessible language and have to keep interjecting “what did he just say?” or “can you ask this?”. It’s hard not to feel like things would be much easier for everyone if the white girl in the corner with her notebook and expression of earnest confusion would just go sit in the jeep and eat biscuits. But we persevere, and so far the work is going well.

The living situation in the village is also better than expected; we have electricity (and a generator that helps protect against the frequent power outtages), running water (this one is actually pretty iffy, there have been some close calls with the toilet), and meals are provided. It should be mentioned that Asha is hands-down winning in terms of food consumption in India. This thoroughly endears her to every person who has cooked for us, and makes some of us look really bad. Skipping a meal is absolutely out of the question here, and people look shocked and a little frightened when one of us says that we’re not hungry. We’ve figured out a variety of ways to cope though (see Alice’s post on tiffin removal techniques).

The next two weeks will be similarly scheduled, with us “in the field” for the majority of week days and returning to Udaipur close to the weekend, so we won’t be close to a computer to update the blog frequently. We’ll update as much as we can though, and wish us luck seeing the solar eclipse on Wednesday!

Friday, July 24, 2009: “This is Truly A Most Auspicious Day”

I managed to declare this phrase immediately before stepping into a large pile of cowshit in the middle of the street – but truly this week has been a little of the magical as well as mundane.

The “auspicious day” in question was the 22nd of July and our musings on it’s significance were largely due to the solar eclipse which Lizzy valiantly woke up at 5:30 am to run outside to catch only to return to bed defeated five minutes later declaring it was too cloudy to see anything. However, that was just the beginning.

Later on in the day during a village exercise in a place called Jakara Lizzy and I attempted to befriend a group of teenage girls. While at first they were painfully shy, as time went on we tried asking them questions that had been translated into Hindi for us by one of our colleagues, and we soon began to laugh together over our complete unintelligbleness (although it is quite possible they were laughing at us). They even taught us a game which involves picking up stones, similar to jacks, and at the end, as you do, we took a group photo with a goat.

That night we visited the house of our driver, Sunder, in the village which we were staying in. The house was made entirely of mud/clay and had an indoor stove which smelled amazing but made my eyes water the entire time. His 100 year old grandfather was there, we drank buffalo milk (delicious!) as well as something very akin to vomit that I made the mistake of taking seconds of to be polite. As we left an electrical storm lit up the entire sky, at times making the night look like daytime and sending clear lightning bolts across the sky into the forests and hills beyond.

Then, naturally, came the cowshit – sending me reeling hysterically holding on to Ari trying to scrape it off as we all just stopped and laughed at the general absurdity and irony of the proclamation I had just made.

As well as just the fact that, well, shit guys, we are in India.

Nourishing Potential in Rural Rajasthan, by Jessica Sinclair Taylor

Hampered by the complexities of working in a foreign country, an unknown language and an often alien culture, I found weaving together my picture of the work of the Veerni Project was similar to the process of creating the intricate quilted wall hangings made by the women of Rajasthan – a process in which the final design appears only slowly. My first priority was to develop a thorough understanding of the NGO I am working with, its strengths, weaknesses, needs and capacity.

Veerni works with six rural villages in the Jodhpur region of Rajasthan, India. The team helps to provide health and nutritional care, economic empowerment and education to the women and adolescent girls, and raising awareness of key issues such as malnutrition or domestic violence in the whole community. They run sewing courses to provide women with a means to generate their own income, provide literacy centres for girls who will other wise not attend school, and also fund a hostel in Jodhpur, where 85 village girls are able to benefit from improved health, nutrition and most importantly, a full time education.

Fifteen weeks seemed like ample time from my home in London, time that has now become compressed as I have realised the complexities of development work, even within my own small role. What has gradually emerged from the patches of quilt is a possible synergy between Veerni’s groundbreaking work on nutritional supplements, designed and patented by the nutritional team, and their less developed programme on skills training for income generation. An in-depth survey of the villages, their current nutritional habits and awareness and receptiveness to the idea of new income strategies, could assess the potential to initiate a women’s cooperative to produce the Veerni nutritional supplements. Ideally, this would provide employment and income to the women involved as well as easily available low-cost supplements to local families. This synergy of increasing women’s ability to nourish themselves and their families while developing their self-respect and status through income generation appeals to me. However, it is only by asking the women themselves that I can discover if such a project is viable in the hard grind for survival that characterises their day-to-day lives.

These women are the human capital that is so often wasted in an area that has some of India’s lowest female literacy rates, female to male sex ratios and health indicators. And yet behind the gloomy statistics there lies a wealth of potential. Conducting interviews of some of the girls attending the Veerni hostel I met Shoba Choudhary, a seventeen-year-old from Rajwa village, who has been at the hostel for one year. Rajwa suffers from all the blights on women that plague one of India’s most underdeveloped states: the female literacy rate is 3.69% and the village population is 580 women to 611 men, clearly showing the number of ‘missing women’. Yet despite being married at eight, and now under pressure from her fellow villagers to give up her education and return to her family, Shoba displayed a quiet but impressive confidence and self-knowledge. ‘Education is a girl’s true friend’ she said, and talked of her ambition to attend college, pass the tough civil service exams and work for the government of Rajasthan. Only time will tell if Shoba can overcome the pressure from her village and achieve her ambitions, but her intelligence and maturity are a sign of the immense human capital Veerni is working to cultivate.

Back in Rajwa, as I observed the field staff and the women and children they worked with, the most powerful images were sensory: the vivid pink of the women’s head veils, the Indian sun baking the almost barren earth and dullness of malnutrition in some of the children’s coal-lined eyes. I understood nothing of the Mawari spoken, but what I could appreciate was the respect felt for the Veerni field staff. The men listened when they spoke and the women slowly pulled back their veils in their presence. This respect, and its fruits in terms of the true community engagement and trust it indicated, was a better introduction to the work of Veerni than any annual report or flashy website. It was also a crash course in the patience required for community development; a patience that does not come naturally to most Westerners, perhaps especially those who want to ‘make a difference.’ I may have emerged from the first phase of the internship process, but the real challenge, to develop a little of that patience, dedication and humility, is only just beginning.

Kindness of Strangers and a Draw, by Sarah Angello

June 30:: Kindness of Strangers!

I realized today that I have four weeks left of work and at least four projects I’m trying to complete. The workshop I have planned is going to be on July 16th and I’m hoping that everyone in LUGADA pitches in for a successful workshop. The purpose of the event is to strengthen LUGADA’s revolving fund and teach the loan applicants how to manage a loan and when to take the loan. We’re going to give a repayment schedule and show how to write or describe a business proposal. There are tons of logistical problems, like the transportation stipend (do I give it beforehand, so the attendees can afford to travel to the site, but risk that people will forget to show up? Or do I give it once they arrive, risking that some people won’t have the 1000 shilling for travel?), the cultural obsession with food, and wondering if everyone will show up.

I chose the time of 10-5 for the workshop, trusting that no one will arrive until at least 10:30 and we won’t start until closer to 11:30. This way, we avoid having to give morning tea and can give only lunch. We’ll give a late lunch so we won’t have to give afternoon tea and can have only a water break around 3 o’clock. I’m trying to maneuver the workshop to be cheap because I have only 400,000 shillings to work with for the entire day. A friend rented me her conference hall for only 35,000 shilling and we have an expert coming to speak for 50,000. I have doubts about his expertise, but he comes with high praise from other sorts. Anyway, he knows more than I do.

Of the remaining funds, more than 60,000 shilling will be a transportation stipend so that attendees can travel the 4 kilometers to the workshop site. More than 100,000 shilling will be for lunch and the remaining money will go to purchase notebooks and pens for the attendees, as well as packets of information. I estimate that 30 people will attend and there is really no room to be wrong: I can’t really afford more attendees but I can’t exclude any LUGADA members from attending!

My facilitator in LUGADA gave me a terrific gift yesterday. Most group members have given me welcoming gifts of bananas, jewelry or fruit. Florence and her family adopted me and gave me a new name. I am now introduced as Sarah Angello Namugerwa and I am a member of the monkey clan, one of Uganda’s 53 tribes and the most prominent in Buganda, where I live. (Side Story: my monkey-clan grandmother, Jjoja Francis, rejoiced when I told her my dad in America found a new job. She told me she had been praying for him every day and how is the rest of her American family?)

Every day, LUGADA has more great ideas about how to improve the Nyendo-Ssenyange community. I think we have twenty project ideas for the upcoming months and years and I wish I could watch them all come to fruition. Some of the ideas are enormous (Community Clean-up: Paving the main streets in Nyendo to prevent sicknesses that come from inhaling dust) and some are small and manageable, like computer literacy and empowerment training. I’m teaching computer literacy to anyone who asks. I’m teaching my two brothers typing and I’m teaching others Microsoft Office Tools and basic Internet skills.

I love comparing our skills sets here in Masaka: I can teach computer literacy and lead empowerment training, but I needed my host mom to show me how to peel a jackfruit and my colleague Maria is teaching me about medicinal herbs. My brothers are around my age (Ivan is 17 and Brian is 20), but we have very little knowledge in common. Neither of them has ever read a book, but they both have incredible knowledge of plants and basic science…although Ivan curiously asks for my help every night with his homework.

Tonight is a LUGADA meeting where I will be surprising St. Ignatius Primary School with an enormous bag of donations. The husband of an acquaintance flew into Uganda and brought several bags of school supplies, but didn’t know where to donate them. I met his wife at a café in Masaka and she asked me if I had any use for a bag of school supplies: I didn’t expect these supplies to actually show up at the FSD! I wish I had a name or an address where I could send my thanks and pictures of the kids using the books and supplies.

St. Ignatius Primary School, where I volunteer and work with LUGADA, has absolutely nothing. They lack everything except students. 507 students, 8 teachers. 1 desk for every 9 students. No books. No pencils. No running water.

At least they have some pencils and books now! I can’t wait to distribute the supplies. I just finished writing a grant for St. Ignatius: while donations are used up and disappear, funding for the school will enable them to find their own supplies and develop the building to provide a safe and educational environment for the kids.

July 6:: Sarah V. Nile: A Draw

I had the intention of conquering the Nile this weekend, but after 3
days of adventures getting to Jinja, rafting the Nile, making endless puns about the Nile/denial, returning to Masaka and still, after 3 days, coughing up the Nile River, I concede a draw.

The day I went rafting had an inauspicious start. Our bus was so late that we didn’t have adequate time for a full safety briefing. Our guide, Charles the Prince of the Nile (not Prince of Denial. The joke really, really does not translate between English and Luganda), began our session with the following: “Okay, so we have no time for safety briefing. So we will learn as we go, yes? Yes.” Our first rapid was a
Cat3, then a Cat5 and then….well, I speak enough Luganda to recognize certain words. So when Charles stared at our raft and then shouted Luganda gibberish and the word kwabaka, I was incredibly concerned. Tesia, Zach, Jenny and myself shared a Look.

Kwabaka: Luganda for to burst or explode.

Our boat was punctured when we hit the rocks on a Category 3 and Prince bluntly told us the raft would not survive the next Category 5. His bluntness, Ugandan sense of humor, lack of concern for our nerves would cause problems throughout the day but I was definitely somewhat concerned with our imminently capsizing raft. We got out and carried the raft for a bit until we met the replacement. So a sunken raft started the day.

Prince motivated us through fear and used his authority to terrify us all day. Examples? During lunch break, we removed our lifevests and helmets to float in calm water. Suddenly, Prince jumps up. “QUICK EVERYBODY LIFEVESTS ON, GET DOWN GET DOWN GET DOWN WE ARE GOING TO DIE.” We immediately drop everything and cower for our lives. No rapid. Calm water. Example 2: Zach jumps off the raft during a calm stretch to swim. Mid-jump, Prince yells “NO! DON’T! THE CROCIDILES!”

No crocodiles.

“Prince, what happens if we swim right instead of left in this rapid?”
Laughter. “Then we can’t save you, see you in Egypt.”

The worst joke by far was that it was his second day as a guide. He had us all going with this one until he slipped by mentioning he had been a guide for over 5 years. By the end of the day, Prince proposed to me and I accepted, attracted by the title of Princess of the Nile. Prince has offered 50 cows or the cash equivilant to my father. I told him my father would probably prefer the cash (2.5 million shilling!), but he’d have to negotiate the details with my very American father. So this situation is pending.

I do owe Prince an enormous debt of gratitude. When we faced Silverback, the biggest and strongest Cat5, I panicked. Silverback is over 150 meters of double category 5 rapids colliding in deep water, surrounded by jagged rocks. You can only see the white caps of the rapids. Before the first drop, we were all regarding the intensity before and I just started screaming. There were only two sounds: the rush of the rapids and my terrified shrieks. I’m ashamed to admit that I abandoned my post and ducked for cover, gripping the safety rope and quaking with fear instead of paddling like a team player. Prince had no sympathy for me. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PADDLE! PADDLE NOW, YOU SCARED MZUNGU!” The “scared mzungu” comment snapped me out of terror and I picked up my paddle and managed to stay on the raft and paddle. Of course, when we finished navigating Silverback, we realized we had lost one of our rafters and had some random guy on our boat, but we quickly did an exchange and found her.

There were so many awesome and terrifying moments: when we rafted Bujogali Falls, I misinterpreted “DUCK AND COVER, GET DOWN GET DOWN GET DOWN” for “Wow, this is a gorgeous waterfall. Look around! Absorb the moment!” and for that, I got an awesome shiner from smacking my face into an oar. My position at the back of the raft meant I spent a lot of time flying into the air from the impact of waves. At The Bad Place, I sailed right out of the raft, over the top of the raft and somehow landed in front. The Bad Place starts as a Cat6, so we had to carry the raft over that and then relaunch into a Cat5. So I was petrified that I was going to drift back into the Cat6 or over to the falls: I managed to grip the front of the raft and Jenny summoned inhuman strength and hauled me over the front while steering through a Category 5.

But despite a minor sprain and a dozen bumps and bruises, I had an
awesome time and I think I’m going again in two weeks.

The Boss at Work and the First Meeting, by Arjun Khanna

MAY 27th

RECAP OF THE DAY: Woke up really early because I fell asleep at 9:30 yesterday night, had a fight in the dark with my mosquito net (I’m still not sure how it got tangled the way it did), got up, got ready, off to work, met Chief Medical Officer Dr. Bomji, discussed ideas, sat in with him seeing patients, Peter stopped by to check in, a lot of medical procedures that I won’t go into for the sake of your stomach, learned a ton about medical diagnoses of tropical diseases, Dr. Bomji gave me a CD of requirements by the Ministry of Health for Iguhu, he drove me home, started working, spent thirty minutes trying to figure out why the background on my blog wasn’t changing, Shide is amazed at computer, I offer to teach him how to use one, dinner while typing, more work, work, work, sleep.

REFLECTION: I spoke to Dr. Bomji this morning. His name is spelled correctly for the first time in my notes, incidentally, because discerning the difference between spoken “m’s” and “n’s” or “j’s” and “ch’s” are near-impossible here; I rotated among calling him Dr. Bomchi, Dr. Bonchi, Dr. Bomji, and Dr. Bonji in the hopes that the average might be recognizable to his colleagues, and no one seemed to mind. I assumed the right to do so because the variety of pronunciations of my own name here is astounding – you would think, wouldn’t you, that among the multitude of Indians in Kenya at least one of them is named Arjun and has taken it upon himself to correct pronunciation of his admittedly difficult name? In any case, I thought it fitting to return the favor to Dr. Bomji, though in the spirit of professionalism I read the correct name off of his badge this morning and will refer to him appropriately: Dr. K. K. Bomji. Case closed.

Regardless, I spoke to him this morning and, as Mama Joyce had vehemently indicated previously – the phrase “vehemently indicated” is redundant in her case, as she is a very spirited and excited woman who says virtually everything vehemently – Dr. Bomji is a very motivated, caring, selfless, intelligent, and optimistic man. With an immortal smile that I did not see falter the entire day, he discussed his visions for the health center-turned-district hospital, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that many of his visions coincided with my own. Beautification, landscaping, and large, published charters for the hospital and each of its departments were on the top of his list.

I sat in his office the entire day. Aside from learning a lot about diagnostic sciences – especially in the absence of a lot of technology – he kept feeding me things that he would like to see changed in or added to the hospital. A customer care desk, he mentioned, would be valuable in directing patients around the hospital and informing them of available services and corresponding prices. He often discussed the shortage of staff at the hospital, which became increasingly glaring as the line of the line outside his office lengthened; at one point, upon inquiry, if discovered that a woman who required no more than five minutes of attention had showed up almost two hours previously. Even more frustrating was the fact that she was then directed to get a blood test done and then (if positive) would be directed to collect quinine treatment for her child’s malaria. A five minute examination, twenty minute blood test, and a five minute visit to the pharmacy would take her the entire day.

Peter came by to ask how I was doing; we spoke about potential projects, sustainable ideas, and the meeting on Saturday. He also explained that our batch of interns would not be allowed to apply for additional grand funding because the duration of our stay was too short, though we would be allowed to fundraise on our own if we found that we needed additional funding. I am sure that I will.

MAY 30th

RECAP OF THE DAY: Woke up early, blasted music while getting ready, flagged down a matatu to go to Kakamega (paid 50 bob), got there, bought a mango from Mama Rosa, started eating it the Indian way, walked to Kamadep hospital, met with everyone, talked about the past week, saw Emily (the fainting one), she has poison ivy on her face, her lips are swollen, she looks generally hilarious, she’s being a really good sport about me and Guillaume making constant fun of her (which is the only reason why I’m posting this), we meet with Angie, we talk about grant proposals, it turns out we will be allowed to write grants, we review three example grants, talk, Angie cooks us lunch, Nate makes a plan for all of us to go the Kakamega forest tomorrow and Monday (Monday is a holiday), we go to withdraw money for the trip, we have Angie’s Mac and Cheese, she randomly added mustard to the sauce, we were all starving, we dispersed, I got a matatu home, I handed him 50 bob, he said it was 70, I said that I had come here for only 50, he said that coming and going were different prices, everyone in the matatu started laughing, I said no, and he was silenced, arrived home, Mama Joyce’s sister and nephews/nieces were there, Mama Patropa (a special-ed teacher), kid named Patience (daughter), husband returned from Nairobi, I try to help wash my own clothes for the week, everyone laughs and starts doing it for me, I start boiling water for the excursion we are about to go on tomorrow, I clean my room, dinner, work, sleep.

REFLECTION

Meeting everyone today was fun and interesting in that I learned about the (often wild) variety of experiences that others are enjoying (or, in some cases, barely enduring). Urban life and rural life are, evidently, very different. While I enjoy beautiful scenery, clean air, and spaciousness, urbanites are treated to cramped spaces, lots of annoying children, and overbearing parents. At the same time, while seeing another muzungu face causes me unbelievable nostalgia, urbanites bump into each other all the time and have the luxury of nearby shopping marts, stores, and the undying hum of city life. (It is interesting, is it not, for me to have so quickly transformed my definition of what a “city” is? Only two weeks earlier, Kakamega was a “town” at best.)

I also noted that, reaffirmed by Guillaume after the meeting, some people are taking the idea of “cultural sensitivity” far too seriously. Some are so afraid of violating unwritten cultural rules that they have seemingly suspended the assertiveness for which they were selected to come to Kakamega. It hinders the work that we do, for example, if interns are so hesitant to discuss their ideas and visions of their projects with their supervisors that they must depend on the site team to do it for them. It is almost as if they come to our meetings prepared with pad and pen only to script out their conversations with host families and organizations as to ensure purity of communication.

I say two things to future interns. First, whatever impression you might get from the site team as to how to go about communicating with locals, ponder sincerely what the term “cultural sensitivity” actually means. It absolutely does not mean that you are to be perfectly versed in cultural nuances before interacting with the local community. Part of the cultural experience is learning the local culture by way of trial-and-error, and often times, the “error” parts are far more important and noteworthy. You should be ready to laugh off your mistakes, as should your host family and organization. You can either attempt to be culturally perfect and make things very awkward for locals around you, who might be led to expect you to truly know cultural nuances and be that much more upset when you violate them, or you can be more outgoing and admit freely that you are trying to learn (which you should be). You are not trying to impress anyone here; you are immersing yourself in a unique culture and trying to appreciate and live it.

Second, when you do end up upsetting someone (notice that I choose “when,” not “if”), remember that it is in no way your fault that the other person is upset. In fact, I would argue that it is their fault. It will be blatantly obvious to all those around you that you are not a local; if not from the color of your skin, then from your accent and mannerisms, people will know. Put yourself in their shoes – if a foreign exchange student accidentally offended you by violating a “cultural rule,” would you get upset at the person or would you laughingly correct their mistake? You cannot be expected to fit perfectly in. Anyone around you who expects so is unrealistic and is not worth you losing sleep over.

That is not to say, however, that you should make no effort whatsoever. If you know how to say a greeting in Kiswahili, you by all means should! The locals will no doubt get a kick out of it. When they spring into a line of Kiswahili in return, widen your eyes and shake your head. They will understand. After you admit to someone that you do not know their culture, you should be quick to add that you want to learn about it.

We are going into the Kakamega Rainforest tomorrow and Monday for hiking and hanging out because Monday is a holiday! I will no doubt return with fabulous pictures and comical stories.

Developing Courage, by Jon Blackwell

I had no idea what to expect during my 9 weeks spent in Kenya. I decided it would be best to keep an open mind in order to best handle any situations and experiences that lay ahead of me. All that was certain was that I would be working at MIMA, the micro-finance arm of an organization called LICODEP in a town called Likoni. Shortly after my arrival, I was inundated with a wave of new sights, sounds and emotions. Everywhere I looked it seemed to be chaos with poverty sprinkled in between. As I began to get settled with my host family and MIMA, I saw Kenya for what it truly is: a quickly developing country with positive change all around.

Kenya has a long history of corruption that is embedded deep into its culture; from the elected officials in government to the community run Non Government Organizations (NGOs) that are in place to take over where the government fails. There are many different causes of the deep rooted corruption, but the reason it is allowed to continue is the lack of empowerment of the people.

Immediately upon my arrival in the country locals inform me on how fed up they are with this corruption. They tell me that the only way to rid their society of this corruption is to have individuals begin to organize and speak out. Soon enough I began to see this type of activism by a shocking move at the federal government level. Justice Minister Martha Karua resigned her position citing her frustration with the government’s inability to enact change due to corruption. This shook Kenya as it was one of the most bold and controversial moves by an outspoken female official.

This type of activism is the catalyst for change, but development at the macro level is not possible without empowering the people of the community. My work with LICODEP’s micro-finance program is directly related to empowering people of the community. The majority of MIMA’s clients are female entrepreneurs. Because Kenya has a male dominated society, it is important for MIMA to focus on females in order to balance the power between the two sexes by providing these women with financial opportunities. As I continue to work with these women I have been amazed by their natural business sense. Having seen this first hand it just further confirms that all that is needed is someone to lend a helping hand and provide the opportunity.

While the primary goal of MIMA is to provide credit to promote growth and reduce poverty, the larger goal is to provide people with the confidence and means to promote change. Kenya is a country that is ready to take the next step in development. This next step will be made possible by NGOs such as LICODEP and their work within their community.

Drought, Discrimination and Progress, by Jeffrey Schuhrke

My FSD internship here in Jodhpur is with an NGO called UNNATI (the word unnati means “progress”) and is centered on their disaster risk reduction program. The major disaster here in the desert of Western Rajasthan is drought. My previous experience has dealt with hurricanes, earthquakes and wildfires, which tend to be very visible events with a clear beginning and end. It is easy to see their impact because you can clearly see the difference from before and after the disaster; it’s dramatic and typically gets a lot of attention when it happens. Drought is different because it has no clear beginning and end, and so its impact is more difficult to see. It becomes a regular part of people’s daily lives, and therefore doesn’t seem as dramatic and gets less attention. It’s insidious and gets to the true nature of disasters as more than just one-time events.

The ongoing drought here in Rajasthan weakens food and water security, and it severely hurts rural livelihoods. People lose valuable time and money just trying to get water, so they can’t maintain their crops and livestock, and are often forced to migrate to cities for work. UNNATI is trying to counter this in a few ways. One project they’ve undertaken is providing some funds for families to build water-harvesting structures like underground tanks able to catch and store as much rainwater (which is extremely minimal) as possible. These tanks can also store water pumped in from tractor-hauled tankers that bring it from various sources like ponds and canals, though the owners/drivers of these tankers often charge unfair prices. For this, UNNATI is buying some water tankers and tractors and will give them to village committees, which will manage and oversee their use, and will charge fairer prices.

The organization has also undertaken a horticulture development project with about 30 households. The women of the households oversee their own plots of berry and plum-producing plants that require little water. The plants can provide extra food and fodder during times of scarcity, and are also reliable sources of income when the families sell the fruits.

UNNATI did not originally do this kind of work. Instead, the organization has traditionally worked to empower the Dalits, also known as the “untouchables”. In India’s ancient caste system, the Dalits were given what were considered the dirty jobs like dealing with waste and corpses, and were thus seen as permanently polluted and literally untouchable, and were treated as sub-human.

Since the time of India’s independence, the government has sought to eradicate “untouchability” and engender equal rights. While the overt mistreatment and oppression of Dalits has mostly ended, there are still subtle ways they are discriminated against. They are often systematically denied decent jobs and livelihoods, as well as access to quality education and other basic opportunities. It’s easy to draw comparisons to racism in America, which has also become subtler in recent decades.

This discrimination is very similar to the drought. Both are forms are of deprivation—one is a sort of environmental deprivation while the other is a sort of social deprivation; and also both are insidious and subtle, rather than dramatic, overt situations that get a lot of attention. Not surprisingly, the Dalits tend to have the least access to water, often living farthest from water sources, and also not having the money to afford storage tanks or tanker-delivered water. So, while UNNATI originally worked with Dalit activists to help them assert their rights, it now also works with them to reduce their vulnerabilities to drought.

Many of my Indian colleagues are ashamed of the continued discrimination against Dalits. Speaking with Indians about Obama’s election back in my home country, a lot of them seem to think such problems in America are all over and only India is dealing with negative discrimination now. I try to tell them it’s not that simple. As proud as I was to see Obama win on November 4th, I was disappointed and ashamed at the passage of Proposition 8 in California and similar measures in other states.

But the election of Obama is definitely a mark of progress for the U.S. Looking at all the struggles for social equality that have taken place throughout my country’s history and how far we’ve come, I think Martin Luther King, Jr. was right when he said, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” So I don’t despair the passage of Proposition 8 or the continued discrimination against Dalits, but instead have the “audacity to hope” that it’s only a matter of patience, faith, and dedicated effort before the long drought of injustice finally ends.

A Kintu Introduction, by Tara Clerkin

Living with a host family has been one of the more interesting parts of my time here in Uganda, and the best way to fully experience Ugandan culture. There is no better way to fully understand a different culture than getting to know local people on the deep level that you do when you live with another family for two months. Not only do you have the opportunity to eat white ants and other local dishes, but also you get to experience the culture and all the traditions, such as women kneeling as a sign of respect and the importance of greetings.

I have had the privilege of not only getting to know and learning from my own host family, but also the host family of another FSD intern, Daniel, as well. His family, the Kintu family, was gracious enough to invite Daniel as well as myself to an introduction ceremony. An introduction ceremony, one of three Ugandan wedding ceremonies, is an important Ugandan tradition where a woman introduces her fiancée formally to her family and is given away to the groom. The Kintus were introducing a nephew to his fiancée’s family.

The day of the introduction, Daniel and I dressed in the traditional Ugandan garb. The Kintu family lent us some of their clothing to wear to the ceremony. Men wear a long white robe called a Kanzu with a suit jacket over. Women wear a dress called a Gomesi. The dress is a wrap around dress that buttons on the top and is tied with a thick sash. The dresses vary greatly in fabric, pattern, and color. My dress was a pale pink with a pattern of flowers and animal prints. My sash was a brighter pink with a gold design. I felt extremely foolish in the large dress, especially with the pointy sleeves coming up to my ears!

When we arrived at the home, I was amazed at all the commotion and splendor. Outside the bride’s home the groom’s family was assembling to process into the ceremony together. Nearby, several trucks and cars were overflowing with gifts for the bride’s family and more were still driving up the road. I had been told the groom’s family brings gifts for the bride’s family, but I had no idea the amount was so large. There were baskets upon baskets full of fruit, huge sacks of sugar, wrapped gifts, crates of soda and beer, couches and even a large chicken! The yard in front of the house was transformed to the party area with three huge white tents decorated with lights and flowers. In the middle a smaller tent was set up and several mats laid out on the ground. The children in the neighborhood were all crowding around to see what was happening and to admire the beautiful Gomesi’s.

Once all the family members arrived, the men and the women lined up in their respective lines and we were all given bows with chocolates attached to pin to our clothing. I think this was a token of hospitality from the bride’s family, but I am not sure. Either way, the chocolate tasted very good. We entered the yard of the bride’s home and sat down in the designated tent for the groom’s family. After that, the ceremony began. The families sang two anthems from the two areas of Uganda, Buganda and Busoga.

Soon after, the groom’s family presented the gifts. The entire clan left the yard and began carrying in the gifts. Women carried baskets on their heads—those are hard to balance!—and knelt down to present them to the family. Men carried in the heavier items, and Daniel carried in the large chicken to be given to the bride’s brother. It seemed like a never ending procession of women dancing slightly with baskets on their head or gifts in hand, intermingled with men carrying huge crates of gifts. Once all the gifts were given, the groom’s family returned to our seats.

Then began the long series of greetings and introductions. Various members of the bride’s family took turns greeting the groom’s family. The aunts and the bachelorettes of the bride’s family performed dances and a series of greetings to the groom’s family. Eventually the bride came out and was dancing with her aunts. Her bridal aunt presented her to the groom’s family who accepts her into their family.

After all the ceremony, the families feast on a huge array of traditional foods. Everyone relaxes, listens to music, and dines on the delicious food. My favorite was chicken cooked inside a banana leaf, a Buganda dish called Luwombo. After the meal, the groom’s family leaves, taking the bride with them.

Experiencing the introduction ceremony has been one of the most interesting parts of my time in Uganda. Daniel and I got to see first hand the importance of tradition in family life, especially concerning weddings. Both families were so happy to be meeting with each other to celebrate the union of the bride and groom and celebrate their love. Despite the differences in Western wedding traditions and those of Uganda, the joy at the celebrations of either culture is overpowering.

Three Women, Seventy Children, and Lots of Hairless Terriers: Working with Mi Perrito, by Christine Solitario

For almost seven weeks, I have had the privilege of spending every day with the women of Mi Perrito Cooperative in Villa Elisa, Argentina. Through my internship, I have had the ability to see the trials and tribulations that face start up business in impoverished communities. I have also witnessed the power of community support as the women of the cooperative have tried to create a successful project with the hope of providing not only for their families, but for the improvement of their neighborhood.

The sewing cooperative was started two years ago by a couple of mothers whose children attended Arco Iris, a community center that provides educational and social development as well as nutritional meals to over 70 children in the neighborhood. Before I arrived, the group had focused solely on the production of dog clothing. This endeavor had been fairly profitable, but the group had reached a plateau in sales. Also, this past February, a terrible flood hit the area, wiping out a significant portion of their stock, as well as forcing them to spend much of their budget on the repairing of their sewing machines. A few months previous to the start of my internship, though, they received a contract from a fair trade association based in La Plata called Otro Mercado to make baby clothing.

Within my first few days, representatives from Otro Mercado came to the cooperative to bring the necessary materials to carryout the order, including a professional fabric cutter. After two or three days of use, it was obvious that this machine would become a lifesaver for the group. Work that used to take them and hour now took ten minutes, as they were able to cut multiple layers of fabric at once. In turn, the project I ultimately decided to pursue was the purchase of a fabric cutter and other organizational materials that would turn the workspace into a sewing shop. I realized that what the cooperative was lacking was neither skill nor initiative to further their production capacity, but simply capital. The women were fully capable of creating higher quality products, yet without the necessary tools, they were forced to rely on dull scissors and faulty machines and to work in a cluttered room that doubled as a closet for the center.

One of the women, Isidora, corroborated my discovery as she recounted her history with the cooperative. She told me that when she first started with the group, she imagined what it would be like if one day they could have professional sewing machines and a workshop that no longer used second hand tools. There is no way to completely recreate how her eyes lit up as she described her pride and excitement when, after only a few months, the new sewing machines the group had bought with a loan arrived. She had always dreamed of running this cooperative as an actual business, but the women had never been given the opportunity to utilize high quality capital.

The aspirations of all the women are as equally apparent as those of Isidora. When their children run into the workshop to see what “Mom” is working on, they have a great deal of pride as they show them the newest design or technique they are using. At the end of the day, all of their work is done so that their children will have better opportunities. However, they don’t even realize their most significant impact, though it is apparent to all those around them. No matter what financial gains they make for their family, the most important aspect of their work is the example they have set for all the children of the neighborhood as female entrepreneurs, succeeding even despite their poor odds because of their location in an impoverished community.