Arusha Arrivals and Home Sweet Home Babati

Woman carries goods into Babati town

Samaki (fish) drying in the sun after lime seasoning

Arusha is freezing. (And I’m starting to think this is going to be a summer of climactic extremes.) We stepped off the airplane (onto the tarmac mind you, with our gleaming green and yellow Precision Air jet still humming in the background) into what felt like a balmy afternoon. By nightfall, I found myself bundled up in (and I kid you not) two pairs of socks (one woolen), two shirts, a hoodie sweatshirt, scarf, shorts and fleece pajama pants all wrapped up in my silk sleep sack from my Asian travels, a blanket and duvet folded lengthwise and tucked under; something of a human taco in colorful layers. And I was…still…cold. This is probably due to the fact that every room is best fitted to compensate for sweltering Tanzanian summers with open face brick grates leeching what little warmth is contained in the uninsulated walls. At the moment, I was contemplating tearing down my mosquito net (malaria be damned) and fashioning an additional sheath from the cold. Now to be fair, I may or may not be mildly or highly anemic; this fact has as yet been unverified ;)

Local NGO working with community women

The next morning, after a thoroughly disappointing visit to what was supposed to have been our Moshi office some 45 minutes away from Arusha (no computers, no lights, no desks to speak of, though admittedly there was an abundance of chairs), we piled into an all-terrain jeep and blazed down the highway in the direction of Manyara district. There we planned to scout one of three project sites in the town of Babati, not too far from the famed Ngorogoro Crater and Tarangire safari destinations. As we bounded first down the smooth black asphalt road, we quickly took a turn into the countryside, Masaai huts dotting the flat landscape as far as we could see. The road, now under heavy construction, grunted and groaned beneath us as the driver determined (against all our will) to continue blazing on to town in under four hours. Somewhere between the number of times we were air born and semi-air born, my fro smacking the roof every time we gave another lurch over the hamhock-sized rocks, I resolved to wear a sports bra the next time we decided to fly down the “highway” to Babati.

Meeting with d.light and community leaders

Babati town was bigger than a town by our reckoning, approximately the size of a very small city with one main road leading in and out, hotelis, and bars, restaurants, and shops springing up left and right as we entered. We noticed an invention convention of sorts taking place in a nearby collection of outdoor tents and promptly went to investigate. Mill presses, solar panels, and all sorts of creative devices were being gauged and judged by interested customers, mostly wakulima (farmers) from outside of town. I paused to chuckle for a moment as a young boy ran by in a Clinton Portis Redskins jersey; home even away from home. 

Boy in Redskins jersey peeks into demo at invention fair

For lunch we met with a group of village leaders, chair persons who instructed newly formed village savings and loans groups on how to function and be successful. They explained that in any given week they visit anywhere from 10-15 of these groups, volunteering their time to spread knowledge in the community. The motivation behind the groups is simple. Individuals at times require large sums of money, money which is hard to collect and come by in bits and pieces when you are desperate for that new irrigation system or hard-pressed for cash for your daughter’s wedding or son’s hospital bills. As a group, the members pool funds little bit by little bit, multiplying their contributions to achieve a sizeable amount of savings. These savings are then extended through a variety of means as individual loans either on a rotating basis (using a merry-go-round policy of allowing one member in need to withdraw all of the funds each month) or in bits and pieces (allowing multiple members to take smaller portions each month), etc. After lunch, we were able to see one group in action on collection day.

Women pack in for VSLA weekly meeting

We were ushered into a small house, careful to call out Hodi! as the polite request to enter anyone’s home or establishment. The hallway was dark and it was difficult not to stumble over the pile of shoes collected that we were assured we did not have to add our own shoes to. I felt my way along the cement walls until we reached the main room, the living room. An explosion of color, no fewer than 25 women sat in the tiny room, the only light streaming in through a square cut in the wall. They urged us to sit on the sofas as they crowded together on the remaining chairs and floor watching, smiling, and laughing some behind raised scarves. We were introduced and then gave our greetings in English and Swahili. The group stood, recited their opening chant of something along the lines of Together we can save, together we can live, held launched into their introductory prayer (a non-denominational verse asking blessings on the efforts of the Christians and Muslims in the room) and then resumed business as usual. Each woman stood and approached the center table where a single metal box sat, several pairs of keys beside it. The box was guarded by the treasurer who kept it safe at all times, but it required three keys to open it that were kept by the treasurer, secretary, and chairperson. The box was opened and the cash mounted as each woman in turn deposited her sum as a small stamp of a fish was made in her little ledger book to show she had paid in full for the week.

Treasurer prepares ledgers for money box

We left before the final distribution, but were told that monthly, the group amasses around 500-600,000 Tanzanian shillings (roughly $312-$375 USD). The next session a few kilometers away was fairly similar though this group was mixed with men and women. As part of the demonstration, the chair persons pulled out our lantern models to show their near-indestructibility. This included dunking the lights in buckets of water and throwing them against rocks and trees as they bounced back resiliently. Amid oohs and aaahs some members of the group skeptically shook their heads. Were these made in China? Too many cheap products had come from China they told us, recounting stories of abandoned solar panels and lanterns with broken parts that had long since become useless. We explained our two year customer warranty (full replacements, no repairs!) and they nodded slowly. Another man stood and remarked that his son had brought home our smallest model for two thirds of the price a few months ago. Why were they expensive now? Now this is a classic example of frustrating market distortion, all too often (unfortunately) perpetrated in the name of doing good. Let me see if I can explain the process as I've seen it.

Sample ledger counting pay-ins with fish shaped stamps

NGO writes grant or solicits grantor. NGO receives funds and purchases goods for community. NGO distributes goods free of charge or at an exceptionally low bargain incompatible with market prices (logic being that people are too poor to pay). NGO feels good, people have products, all hunky dory, no? NO. While well-intentioned and admirably motivated, a number of things go wrong in this scenario. A lantern malfunctions or worse, breaks. Where does the family turn? Not back to the NGO which in some cases has moved on or has no connection to a distributor to acquire new goods. A family wants to purchase additional lights or different models and varieties. Can they? As we saw, they are furious to pay any market price for the item, believing they are being cheated and therefore scorn the products and go without. In a number of villages we even learned that teachers were buying the products from students who had received them from NGOs at the reduced rates and then selling them for more than retail value in local communities. Now distrust is bred once accurate prices are discovered, a number of individuals can’t afford them, and again the NGO has moved on and cannot enforce proper distribution past the grant period.

Visit with second village group

Already I was learning the joys of mixing business with social impact, but it can be done. An NGO can distribute some items, say study lamps in a school, at a “promotional” price that is well-advertised as a limited time promotion. Communities are introduced to the goods, find them worthwhile, and in follow up local community leaders and figures like the chairpeople we met are able to bring in additional goods in a wider selection at market price, earning a small margin for their labor. Thus the local market becomes stimulated and the products continue to reach those in need. Groups like these savings and loans circles we visited can then pool funds and work together to raise the money necessary for items like solar lamps which help students study longer, shops stay open more hours, and women save their eyesight from sewing by candlelight into the night. Is this all an ideal system? Of course. But with the right investment, it has the potential for profound impact rippling through an entire community, town, city, and even region like Manyara. That is the purpose of this test pilot project. To see just if and how this can work on a small scale with potential room to group. To see how these networks of trust built up with community leaders, and pools of savings between neighbors can be leveraged to generate widespread social good. 

Product demonstration by community leaders

But I digress. Africa, it seems, had become my new teacher.