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| Woman carries goods into Babati town |
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| 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 ;)
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| Product demonstration by community leaders |
But I digress. Africa, it seems, had become
my new teacher.
