20 July, 2011

Rethinking the Farmer's Market

Dust choked sunlight pours in from the rafter windows of the warehouse and settles heavily on the endlessly shifting lines of figures flowing between colorful tarps loaded with produce and vendors. It’s just after quitting time and the weekly Tuesday farmers market is in full swing. Sacks of colorful spices jostle for space with avalanches of cabbage and lettuce. Watch your step as you squeeze down the crowded aisles lest you accidentally knock down one of the many pyramids of neatly stacked red and white onions. Buy peanuts by the kilogram, avocados the size of a small dog or tofu in either wet or dry form. It’s a bonanza of color and noise; rows upon rows of buyers and sellers, voices raised in the familiar verbal dance of haggling. A veritable sea of people ebbing and flowing with the tides of the bargain, crashing against itself violently where the aisles intersect, little eddies forming around the stands with the best product. Bring $10 and leave with enough fruits and vegetables for a week- and delicious ones at that.

It’s a common scene in developing countries all over the world. Women sitting all day in a crowded market or along the side of a road, shooing flies away with cow-hair switches, entreating passers-by to stop and examine their goods. For me, it became so commonplace I failed to scratch the surface of its meaning until recently. Without really thinking about it, I assumed these were women selling food they had produced themselves. I was given a fresh perspective on these markets, and on small scale vendors in general, after reading Abhijit Banerjee and Esther Duflo’s new book Poor Economics. In actuality, many of these vendors are purchasing their goods from a large supplier in the morning. Or, to be precise, they are renting them. Most of these individuals purchase their daily stock on credit and pay the supplier back at the end of the day, with interest. What really blows me away is exactly how much interest they pay. One of the studies cited in Poor Economics found the average produce vendor in Chennai, India was paying an interest rate of about 4.69% a day! Working off of that, the authors determined that, "a $5 loan, if it goes unrepaid for a year, leaves a debt of nearly $100 million.” It was this astonishing figure, and the possibilities that freeing vendors from this yoke would present, which helped create the idea of microlending, still one of the biggest buzzwords in the development field. Microlending is defined, according in part to Wikipedia as, the extension of very small loans" [usually at modest interest rates] "to those in poverty designed to spur entrepreneurship”

The plot thickens when the authors attempt to assess the impact microlending has had on poor people across the world. In one comprehensive study they find, on the one hand, it hasn't had a negative impact and was helping bring down wasteful spending, but on the other hand, wasn’t dramatically boosting business creation or empowering women, two of the “sexier” results supporters are looking for (apologies to Jane). They had determined it was working, but not with the level of  impact people were hoping for, so they attempted to figure out why. Two of the reasons they found are also what make microlending as consistent as it has been. One, giving loans to groups of women, and therefore employing the social pressure of joint liability to ensure repayment, also discourages individuals from making any risky investments. Another is the strict repayment schedule borrowers must follow which starts shortly after the loan is received. This prevents people from investing in projects where the payout isn’t certain or immediate. Both of these stipulations cut down on loan defaults (for good reason) but also on risk, and failure, and therefore the impressive results many people are looking for.

One final reason questions the idea of poor people as “natural entrepreneurs”, a common tag line in microlending. The authors suggest that some of the deficiency in results may be be due to a lack of enthusiasm on the small business owners’ parts. They are running businesses that will likely never be able to grow beyond a certain point because of minuscule profits, saturated markets and/or unaffordable capital to make the leap into a bigger business. Plus, they’re not the greatest jobs in the world, more of something put together to help make ends meet. Many of these owners may be just biding their time until they can find a better/more interesting/more profitable job and have no interest in making a career out of being, say, a fruit vendor. Personally I found these conclusions to be at the same time fascinating but logical. However, as a relative amateur in this field, I would love to hear any thoughts or criticism.

If you’ve made it this far, I’m impressed, so I’ll leave you with the fun fact that I had a chicken foot for dinner tonight. You may or may not be disappointed I don’t have a picture to share.

09 July, 2011

Taking Off the Training Wheels (Or, The Cheapest Ticket Ever)

It’s quiet except for the sound of metal security gates rolling open and shut throughout the neighborhood. Everyone’s coming home for dinner, trying to beat the chill that follows on the coattails of sunset these days. I’m watching its afterglow in the backyard, eating spoonfuls of chunky peanut butter straight from the jar. It isn’t long after the last streaks of orange fade from the clouds before the cold forces me indoors as well.

At the end of my first week alone here, it’s a good time for reflection. Since Monday, I’ve no longer had the luxury of having Jamie around to guide me at work, bring me around to social events or, most serious of all, to direct me around town. It has come time for me to strike out on my own, to seek my own fortune, or something to that effect. I feel each day has been progressively easier and more productive. Slowly I’m figuring out where Jamie left off and attempting to carry on that work. At the same time, I’m trying to lay the groundwork of my own impact here. I’m meeting with the heads of the three private schools to hear their thoughts on the KF students, what changes (for better or worse) they’ve noticed in the program and kids and how we can more effectively work with the school administrations. I also spent an afternoon at Chalo interviewing each student individually to get a better picture of them both academically and personally, and I plan to do the same with the other two schools. I’ve found that one on one, the kids are much more open and friendly with me. Leaving the school that day I felt a rush of optimism; it was a good first step towards becoming more comfortable with each other.

I’ve moved into the Mwenye house for my homestay which should last until the end of July. I lucked out once again with my host family; the Mwenyes have made me feel truly at home from the minute I stepped through the door. There have been four young cousins visiting for the holiday so in my free time you can usually find me jumping rope, losing at tic-tac-toe, or playing games on the computer. In fact, they love computer chess and minesweeper so much I typically can’t sleep past 9 am on the weekends before being woken up by eager knocking. The location of the house is a trade off; it's very close to two of the schools but fairly far from just about everything else. As I look for housing for the remainder of my time here I’ll probably focus on areas closer to one of the main roads where the KF office is located, in the center-north of town. Fortunately, I have been provided with a car which makes traveling around the city infinitely easier. I’ll definitely be paying a stiff price for that luxury though when I use the car for personal driving; by my calculations it’s over $6 USD per gallon of diesel.

In other news here, KF just received an intern, Julian, from Switzerland who will be joining us for 6 weeks. He’ll be working primarily on creating short video profiles of the students. It’s surreal to be welcoming new people like Julian and others to Lusaka being so completely fresh off the plane myself. But I’m getting the impression that that’s the way of things here; the NGO worker/ expat scene seems like a constantly revolving door with people always coming or going. It’s a really strange context in which to try and build meaningful relationships, but seasoned veterans here assure me you get used to it, for the most part.

I’ll leave you with one funny anecdote. I was pulled over today for the first time, for answering my phone will driving. It was definitely dumb on my part as I’m new to driving here and the roads can be crazy at times, but it’s also illegal. So I didn’t protest when a cop hopped into my car at a stop sign and had me pull over. He told me the fine was 270,000 kwacha (about $50 USD) and asked how much I had on me. Having just bought gas, I had a laughable grand total of 25,000 kwacha. This amused my new passenger so much he called over a policewoman standing nearby. We chatted for a bit and, after realizing I was a poor NGO worker, they asked me to just fork over the little bit I had. The scene ended happily with the man mockingly handing me back a 5,000 note “for airtime” (i.e. to buy more talktime for my phone) and me having to politely insinuate I was engaged in order to avoid giving the woman my phone number so she could set me up with “a nice policewoman” she knew. In terms of run-ins with the law, this goes down as one of the most enjoyable (and least costly).

(Disrupting class at Chibelo Basic School)

06 July, 2011

"Zambezi"

Check out this song by Tinashe, a British-Zimbabwean artist: