A Generation Worth Investing In

Much has been said about my generation, the Millennials. We are painted as entitled, media-consumed, and apathetic. Young folks and less-curmudgeoned old folks have challenged this caricature. However the dialogue overlooks a critical swath of the youth population, namely those non-Western youth who make up the majority of our numbers.

I live in Uganda, a country full of Millennials. With 78% of the population under the age of 30, it’s the second youngest population in the world. East African Millennials face a different stereotype, they are painted as either violent hooligans, or worse, helpless dependents.

It’s true that conditions are tough, with 80% unemployment of youth aged 15-24. Youth face sexual exploitation, financial exclusion, limited health access, and the indignity of poverty.

From my post as the Director of Operations for Segal Family Foundation, the weight of this reality is buoyed by the groundbreaking work of my East African age mates. They are leading social movements that are bringing a hopeful, vibrant energy to cities like Kampala, Bujumbura, and Nairobi.

My East African counterparts were affected by many of the same global trends that shaped my childhood. Those just one rung up the economic ladder are as active on social media, especially Facebook and Twitter, as my American friends. They Instagram weddings in the village and navigate Kampala’s tangled streets using Google Maps. More importantly, Millennials worldwide share an impatience for injustice and the idealistic notion that we might be able to shake it.

Segal Family Foundation, a private foundation supporting 130 organizations in Sub-Saharan Africa, invests in this generation of leaders. We believe that systems change is not just the work of older generations. In fact, this is an area often better tackled by youth. We partner with Millennials that have decided they won’t wait for elders to solve our generation’s biggest challenges, but rather step forward and do it themselves.

Here are some examples of how they are doing it:

Financial Inclusion - Two youth in Uganda, Joachim Ewechu and George W. Bakka, exemplify the potential of our generation. Both young men are alumni of Educate!, a program that aims to transform Ugandan education by incorporating entrepreneurship skills and empowering youth to start their own initiatives. Educate! teaches young people that they aren’t just the beneficiaries of progress but the very agents that are called upon to create it.

Joachim and Bakka’s first initiative was Mara Launchpad, which is one of Uganda’s first business incubators. It provides office space, connectivity, mentorship and networking to nascent businesses led by young people. Their second initiative, Angel Capital is enabling more than 500 youth to save, invest and access financing for their enterprises. Their newest project will expand their work to the regional level, as they start Unreasonable East Africa, a 6-week business accelerator program modeled after Unreasonable Institute in Bolder Colorado.

Jaochim and Bakka are changing a business environment that was previously skewed towards large, established entrepreneurs and making it work for young people.

Job Creation – As a Millennial growing up in Burundi, Aimable Havyarimana’s childhood was shaken by a violent civil war that permeated Burundi until 2005. His neighborhood, Kamenge, one of the roughest in the capital Bujumbura, offered few opportunities. Having also grown up during the rise of the Internet, Aimable’s favorite past-time was tinkering with the dusty computers in Bujumbura’s internet cafes. His hobby led him to study computer engineering at the university level.

Aimable and five classmates felt passionate that the freedom they gained through technology should be opened to more youth. Together they created AJDI, Youth Association for the Democratization of Information, which has trained 300 youth in Kamenge to develop websites, write code, and use business software. AJDI then markets these youth’s skills to companies willing to pay for contract work, and often eventually hiring the young consultants as full staff.

In a traditional and yet deeply divided environment Aimable pushes back skepticism saying,

"No matter how the old generation feel about us, there is no denying we're changing the status quo in Kamenge, and if we have to clear the mess we're inheriting from the old generation, we have to build our capacity."

Activism - Eddy Oketch, combats the forces that seek to divide Kenya’s youth for political gain, mostly notably seen in the violence following the 2007 election. Eddy, who became a ‘street kid’ at age 13, insists that poverty is at the root of violence. As Eddy explains

“If someone is economically independent, he can be politically independent, ideologically independent, and he can be tribally independent.”

With this in mind, Eddy built, Peace for Africa and Economic Development (PAD), which first empowers youth to start micro-businesses, then connects them to promote peace and bridge rifts between tribal groups. In the run-up to the 2013 Kenya elections, PAD worked through 350,000 youth to launch a mobile phone campaign, hold unity concerts, convince politicians to make public declarations, and ultimately engage 5 million people in their message for peace. Eddy, still an undergraduate himself, is lifting his fellow Millenials’ hopeful and ambitious message to the centers of power, rather than letting an angry and disenfranchised one fester at the fringes.

My hope is that investing in Millennials can make these stories more rule than exception. 10 million young Africans enter the labor market each year. We can see this as a threat, or an opportunity. So, I know we annoy you with our Instagram selfies, petitions via Facebook “like”, and generally unfounded self-confidence, but ours is a generation to be proud of, to be rooting for, and to be investing in.

On Creating Poverty

Poverty does not destroy the initiative and self-reliance of a people. But that is precisely what racism does.
- Jacob Holdt, Development Aid and Racism

Overcoming poverty is not a gesture of charity, it is an act of justice.
- Nelson Mandela


Last week I attended the inauguration of a vocational program at a Western-run childrens’ home. It was the materialization of the power dynamics associated with race that are so pervasive in Ugandan aid work.

This childrens’ home takes in severely abused and utterly abandoned children and gives them great food, clothing, and a very high-standard of education. It does this the Western way. The children do not learn a local language. They are grouped into family units that are meant to make up for the fact they have no ties to a Ugandan village. Each unit has its own TV, DVD-player, and set of donated toys. They are surrounded by random influxes of Western volunteers who bring them exotic goodies and introduce them to Justin Beiber and Silly Banz.

When I arrived I was greeted by some of the children who were clothed in bright yellow that read, “This Shirt Helps”. As the program commenced different local and national officials lauded the work and sacrifice of the live-in Western founders, funders, and directors. Let’s call them Papa and Mama. When Papa and Mama were invited to speak, both stood up and Papa went on a diatribe that included a line that went something like this:

"It was not me who brought this great miracle to these children, it was God. He called me to Africa, to this work and everything I’ve done is simply His will."

Mama stood next to her husband during his pontificating. When he concluded, someone signaled we were short on time so she just sat down. Thus ended the presentation of the only female on the program.

Then it came time for Papa to hand an official invitation to the deputy of a ministry that had all but officially announced it would assist the program with a government grant. Papa paused before handing over the document. His disclaimer: “I have now become a professional Ugandan beggar. But it's better for a white man to ask a Ugandan…." He trailed off as his views became too transparent. "….but anyway I am begging for support from the Ugandan government, though much of this money comes from outside..." He couldn’t help but point out that really the money originated in the West. "...because I love these children.” He concluded with his views on unity. “Though I do this just because I love children, and you are employed to do this as your profession. We have a common work. ”

The deputy shifted awkwardly and accepted the letter with a smile that was just a bit too wide. I was too embarrassed to look at anyone in the crowd, so I looked down at the newsletter I had been handed when I arrived. In the middle of a section titled “Classic Quotes” there was this:

Ruth (5) saying goodbye to a volunteer said: “When I grow up and become white, I will visit you with the airplane”

It is this phrase that summarizes my fears for this project, the internalized racism it leaves with the children, and the structural violence inherent in international aid that it represents.

This type of project and the rhetoric that surrounds it simply reinforces harmful ideas of who the poor are and what they are capable (or rather, incapable) of. It teaches helplessness, in this case by literally labeling children with t-shirts. From childhood they see whites as their saviors and progress as something only made possible through outside help. It keeps both sides from seeing the complexity of each culture and the common potential of all human beings.

One of my favorite aid bloggers put it like this: “Rather, the kind of harm being done is simply a perpetuation of stereotypes….I would argue that poverty, like institutional racism, is held in place at least in part by our inability to see it for what it is. And our inability to see poverty for what it is is at least partially due to the fact that we continue to caricature the poor, rather than seeing them as real, whole, people.”

Now, I am sure some people will read this and think, “Well aren’t these kids better off? Surely these Westerners are just trying to help?” Yes, it is likely that these individual children are better off, but the system responsible for their vulnerability is strengthened. It is the “soft bigotry of low expectations”. This sort of approach to ‘helping’ is ultimately violent. It first imagines helplessness, poverty, and dependence, then creates it.

This is how Micheal Fairbanks said it: “…you create that parental relationship. I’m helping you. You should be guided by me because I have a bag of money. The responsibility for your future is actually on me, not on you because I have the resources to develop you. It’s patron-client; it’s master-slave; it’s donor-recipient. It’s all broken.”

Now, it’s not my intention to rebuke Papa and Mama, so much. They clearly love the children at the home and have recently built a health clinic that will save lives. However, they are an anecdote of a wider system gone wrong:

Western donors assume poor nations are incapable of good governance so they work around government, then complain about corruption and lack of democracy. The wealthy make their money in a system that favors them, then help poor villages on the assumption that local leadership will yield to their paternalistic demands and afterwards cute brown children will sing and dance to show their deep gratitude. Development workers make a career of advancing social justice then spend their weekends at restaurants and bars that actively discourage “local” or “peasant” clientele.

Of course this is a particularly negative sketch of international development work and it is certainly not true of all organizations or all individuals. I feel lucky to know and work with many people who are committed to getting it right. But this paternalism is pervasive enough to create a power dynamic and racial tension that undermines the many well-intentioned Ugandans and outsiders that are working towards a healthier, more prosperous, more equitable country.

Crowdsourcing: Participation

I just got back from Rwanda for the Global Health Corps mid-year retreat. As part of the program, each fellowship team was asked to write a case study on a topic that they would like to get ideas and feedback on from the other fellows. Edmund and I met last week and decided we want help brainstorming how to approach the creation of a new health clinic, which will be one of our main tasks for the later part of our fellowship. We were so excited and uplifted by the insight of other GHC Fellows that we thought it would be interesting to get opinions and advise from a wider community. Thus, I am asking you to read the situation below and give us ideas on how to foster community ownership of the project.

(To help spark some creativity, check out this really interesting article, Tales of Shit: Community-Led Total Sanitation. It outlines an innovative and controversial take on community ownership. What lessons from this article should we employ? What tactics should we avoid?)

OK, here is the case study:

Main Challenge
After completing a needs assessment that covered 247 households and 1200 individuals in Nama sub-county, Mpoma Community HIV/AIDS Initiative (Mpoma) met with its health partners to review the data, understand the recommendations of Mpoma beneficiaries, and discuss how to move forward.

(You can find the health assessment here, I would love your feedback on this as well! Ok, back to the case study….)

At the meeting, everyone agreed to build a new clinic near the current Mpoma offices. Partners were enthusiastic to help, pledging resources, expertise and funding. However, Mpoma has not yet held any community meetings to discuss the project. Mpoma staff wants to maintain the excitement of outside partners and the momentum of the project, but they also want to ensure that the community “owns” the clinic.

Background Information
The health assessment revealed that many people that want health services (including: family planning services, malaria treatment, HIV testing, first aid, and so on) do not receive them either because health clinics are too expensive to travel to or because clinics are out of drugs. Mpoma hopes to increase health access by building a health center II that is more accessible, and conducting regular outreach programs for malaria nets, family planning, and eventually other services. Included in Mpoma’s programming is a primary school where many community children receive free or subsidized education. The children at the school will also receive free services from the clinic.

Mpoma is located in a semi-urban area but also does outreach work in the surrounding rural villages. Currently, Mpoma does much of its health outreach work through Village Health Teams (VHTs). These individuals have been trained by the Ministry of Health and given bicycles by the government to aid their efforts. VHTs participated in the health assessment through a series of focus groups in which they helped interpreted and clarify the results of household surveys and offer suggestions for Mpoma’s future programming.

Mpoma staff is extremely small. Currently it consists of a program manager, social worker, nurse, education secretary, agriculture manager, two community volunteers, and two lovely GHC Fellows. Mpoma is supported by a board, which consisted exclusively of members of the community. Mpoma has good relationships with the Local Council (LC1s), sub-county officials, and administrators from neighboring schools.

Now, its your turn!

1. What steps should Mpoma take to promote community ownership of the clinic while still maintaining the excitement of outside partners and momentum of the project?

2. How should Mpoma communicate with its community and beneficiaries? What types of forums, advertisements, and messages would you suggest?

3. How should Mpoma communicate with its partners and funders?

4. What potential pitfalls do you foresee? How could Mpoma work to ameliorate these?

Proud to Be a Girl

Earlier this month a certain girl in Lugazi, Uganda (let us call her Sara) declared, “I curse the day I was born a girl.”

Why?

Sara was born the eldest of 5 children, her father died last year, and her mother is HIV position. There is no money for clothes or shoes or school supplies. Also, there is no money for sanitary pads. (Men, try to stay with me!).

As almost any woman can attest, feminine hygiene products are something you take for granted, that is, until the moment you need them and don’t have them. For a young girl in Uganda this lack of access is not only uncomfortable, humiliating, and unhygienic – it also keeps you from school several days a month. This is one of the reasons girls in Uganda drop out of secondary school at a much higher rate than boys read more here. Amidst these problems, this young lady is being pressured not by one random creeper, but by four different men who say they will give her money and other goods in exchange for sex.

Sara is not alone in her regret of being born a girl. The truth is – at least for everywhere I have ever been - economic, social, and physical conditions seem to suck a bit more if you are woman. In case you are unsure, here is a journalist who chronicles the plight of women around the world.

In spite of all of this, women are amazing beings. We are diverse and beautiful and powerful. Girls like Sara have so much potential, so much to offer their communities and the world. Women should be proud.

Enter, my friend Wilson, a young Ugandan who had started a totally volunteer-based community organization call The Youth Outreach Mission (TYOM). He was so concerned with the plight of young girls in his community that he decided to act. With the help of volunteers from HELP International, Wilson and his team (which includes men and women) began visiting secondary schools and implementing a program called “Proud to be a Girl”. They have an empowerment-based curriculum that offers opportunities for girls to be introduced to powerful female role-models, learn about their rights, get information about sex, ask questions anonymously, share experiences, set goals, and express all the reasons they have to be proud.

A sense of worth is not only important through the lens of gender equity; it has real social environmental and economic impacts. For instance:

It is pretty clear that high fertility rates contribute to poverty and environmental degradation in sub-Saharan Africa. If a family perceives that a girl’s main value comes from transactional sex or from the amount her husband pays for her (bride price) or from her ability to push out babies, then it is likely she will bare children early and often. Yet if you increase a girl’s worth outside reproduction (through changing mindsets, increasing education, opening economic opportunity and so on) that increases the opportunity cost of having children, thus reducing the number of children she will want to have.

Now, you might think that if you just increased household income in general that that could increase gender equity and ultimately reduce birthrates. But I think you would be wrong. First, because if you increase the man’s income and not the woman’s, then you decrease the comparative value of her efforts outside reproduction. Secondly, (and more convincingly) this article explains how economic development in China and India has actually led to worse outcomes for women.

So, I think changing mindsets about the value of women matters.

Random example? This study of the spread of Brazilian cable television channels argues that the introduction of telenovelas (of all things!) reduced fertility rates amongst the rural poor. Why? Well, it altered how women view themselves and changed their aspirations (along with introducing them to melodrama and a whole other set of controversial gender roles, but that’s a different story).

Now, these telenovelas are ridiculous (and kind of smutty), but they also show urban, affluent women that have liberal values, less children, and are engaged in many self-actualizing activities (such as working). Rural Brazilian women began to absorb new points of view. As an effect of watching these telenovelas, women desired less kids. (In case you think this is an isolated case here is another study done in India on TV and gender norms)

I am not sure if Wilson’s school presentations are as enticing and entertaining as Brazilian telenovelas (actually I hope they are not), but I think the there is reason to believe that encouraging girls to be proud is more than just a feel-good project.

I grew up proud. Suzie and The Bear (aka Mom and Dad) were always going on about imagined strengths. “Ashley, you are such fast swimmer” false. “Ashley, you are a wonderful singer” false. “Ashley, you are so pretty in your blue-rimmed bifocals” cruel and false. But somehow I was naive enough to let a few of their lies sink in. Every girl deserves that.

Aimless Wanderer

Last Sunday, I put on a long blue and white bold-printed dress with a shawl to cover my shoulders. I was pleased with my "culturally appropriate" attire. Just perfect, I thought, for meeting with my friends and their women's group in a village outside Lugazi. When I got on the matatu (a public mini-bus that usually carries between 16 and 24 passengers) my dress snagged something on the door and I heard a long rip. I quickly sat down and a man outside the matatu made a large motion around his rear to indicate that my dress was torn. I tried to feel around the fabric to figure out how big the opening was, but I was squeezed so tightly between two other passengers that I couldn’t move my shoulders. At the next stop when I had to get out to let the man next to me leave, I pulled at the back of my dress and to my horror found I had huge hole in my dress, exposing way too much!

Mortified, I got back in the matatu and soon a robust Luganda conversation began, peppered with a word I know all too well mzungu. Yep, everyone was talking about the silly girl (me) and all her bare white skin. Soon the matatu filled with half-stifled laughter. I was too overcome with humiliation to join in. But really, who wouldn’t think that was funny?

The thing about it though, is that it made me feel really isolated. I had these flashbacks to junior high, a time when awkward adolescents, like I was, feel continually shut out of a social universe they are desperate to join. Hearing the hissing of mzungu, mzungu, mzungu all day reminds me of lunch tables I got kicked off of and birthday parties I was never invited to.

Being different, a foreigner, a wierdo, an outsider, a mzungu is confusing. On one hand you feel watched, isolated, judged. Even dehumanized? But, at least in this case, people are not trying to hurt me. Many are often genuinely interested and fascinated by my difference. Others have likely met other mzungus and experience tells them certain things about me. And in the end I really believe that bias is less about people and more the systems they find themselves in. This this case, a system that is rife with inequities and hypocrisy and corruption and racism and neocolonialism and other bad isms. A system in which money is controlled from places where many people look like me and decisions are made for “less developed” places where most people don’t.

Anyway, so I have struggled with this label “muzungu” or “mzungu”. If you do some not-so-academic googling you’ll find competing etymologies of this word. Some explaining it comes from roots to describe a “white person” or “foreigner” or “European”, but my favorite are the ones that say it is most directly translated as “aimless wanderer”.

I like this best. Somehow it is more pleasant to be labeled for a peculiar action than for a peculiar physical characteristic. I think my adolescent self would have agreed. And again, it reminds me of something that happened in junior high:

I was getting restless in history class and was being so disruptive that Mr. Robinson was as tired of me as I was of him. So, he wrote me a hall pass (time: 1:15 purpose: bathroom) and told me not to come back until class was almost over. But the librarian spoiled our plan and sent me back to class saying, “your pass, young lady, does not give you permission to just wander aimlessly!” When I explained the encounter to Mr. Robinson, he gave me an exasperated I'm-about-to-retire-why-are-you-people-torturing-me look, and wrote me a new pass. Purpose: wander aimlessly.

Twin Goats

Almost exactly one year ago I visited Uganda to set up an evaluation for HELP International. As you can tell from that blog post, I was again captivated by the life and beauty and humanity that are in abundance here. Re-reading that post made me laugh at how mystic I am about Uganda.

The truth is, prior to last year I wondered if I had simply romanticized the time I spent here in 2008. Maybe because it was my first job in development or because it was my first time to Africa or because it was my first time in an equatorial climate or, or , or. I wondered if I simply built up the beauty of this place in my mind. But my week in Uganda last year was enough for me to realize that there really is something about Uganda that makes me unusually happy. I told my friends here that I would be applying for jobs and knew I would be back soon. Now, a year later, here I am.

I was fortunate enough to get a fellowship with the Global Health Corps. GHC is trying to build a “global health movement” through connecting young professionals from around the world. Being a GHC fellow is awesome because I now have a crazy talented network of people with backgrounds as architects, IT specialists, fundraisers, doctors, communications officers, agronomists, researchers and so on. You can read more about GHC here.

Anyway, GHC paired me with my partner Edmund Okiboko, who is amazing. We are Project Managers for the Mpoma Community HIV/AIDS Initiative. Mpoma was started in 1999 by a group of HIV infected and affected individuals who wanted to build something better for their community.

At the newly-founded Mpoma Community HIV/AIDS Initiative’s first meetings, it was agreed that the highest concern for the members was their children’s education. Many of these children were not attending public primary school because they were too weak to access the distant schools. Those children who were able to get to those schools could not cope with the stigma and discrimination in the public schools because of their association with HIV/AIDS. With donated funds and land from the members themselves, the Initiative spearheaded the construction of a simple building to house a daycare centre for their children, which later evolved into the Johnson Nkosi Memorial Primary School. Slowly the initiative took on more projects in savings, livelihoods, health, and agriculture to support the families of students. Thus, what began as a small group of people meeting under a mango tree, has blossomed into a dynamic organization that provides quality primary education, counseling, health services, vocational training, and secondary school sponsorship to students and agricultural training, savings services, health outreach, and IGA start-up resources to the community.

Mpoma has inspiring board members and a dedicated staff, but lacks the management systems that are needed to take it to the next level. Edmund and I are tasked with trying to introduce some of these systems. These first couple of weeks we have been working on implementing planning systems including: creating a work plan, outlining budgets, assessing need, assessing profitability and cost/benefit analysis. There is soooo much work to do. Mpoma is crazy and inspiring and unpredictable and challenging.

I work with fun people. We always seem to get into lively debates about marriage or diet plans or music. They are people I would choose as friends, which makes me feel really lucky to get to work with them. I have felt so welcomed. In fact, the first day Edmund and I arrived, twin goats were born; one with blond spots the other with black spots. They named them after us.

Back to Uganda

Ever since I left Uganda (almost exactly 2 years ago) I have felt it tapping inside me (and no I am not talking about parasites). I am taking about an impatient thump, a wordless spell, reminding me that I took something from the Heart of Africa. See Uganda (and Lugazi in particular) is full of some sort of magic. And I think what happened was that I accidently absorbed some it, maybe through street food or the thick red dirt that stained my feet or those tiny hands that pressed against mine on my walks through the village. Anyway, some magic planted itself inside me and keeps tapping because it pines to reunite with its source.

As the wheels touched down in Entebbe and I looked out to the that florescent green scratched with powdery-red paths, the tapping was appeased and a week-long smile settled itself on my face.

The drive from Entebbe to Mukono was crazy. Things have changed so much here in just two years. The entire stretch is one extended city which has pushed out the jungle that used to surround each trading center. I had come to Uganda to work on an evaluation for HELP International. So, I am going to be staying with the HELP teams in Mukono and Lugazi while I am here. The first night I stayed in Mukono. When I reached the house there, David (our guard in 2008 who I have remained in contact with and who also is their guard now) was outside to greet me. We embraced and giggled with the excitement of being able to see each other again. David is one of the sweetest people I have ever met.

The next day I spent in Mukono. My purpose for being in Uganda is to set up an impact evaluation for HELP International. So I visited Uganda Christian University and talked to a professor there about the evaluation I am doing for HELP and whether we could get the University involved. I also interviewed several people that HELP has worked with in Mukono and worked on the wording of the evaluation.

On Friday I finally made it to Lugazi. The HELP house this year is just down the street from the one that we stayed at in 2008 so I got to walk the same path I was used to walking from town. On the way I stopped my Mama Joel’s house. Mama Joel is the mother of two children with disabilities, Rita and Joel. She was a member of the group of mothers of children with disabilities that we set up. Her children were usually left in the back of the house in the dark and seldom were taken outside and stimulated. We went and visited them and set up a community member, Grace (the pastor’s wife), to visit them as well. As time went by Mama Joel saw that getting the children up and playing with them was helping them to develop more. Joel was getting strong enough to stand if he had something to hold on to. Joel’ father started coming around more. He had been gone a lot lately (rumor has it he had taken another wife) and Mama Joel was afraid the father would leave them without any help. Mama Joel said the attention Rita and Joel were getting was encouraging the father to be more involved. We took Joel and Rita (along with about 10 other children with disabilities) to a clinic in Kampala that diagnosed them and suggested various aids (like wheelchairs, standing frames, sitting frames, and parallel bars). Joel’s father came along and examined the various equipment. He is a carpenter and said he could build many of these things himself. So, he built a sitting frame for Rita and a standing frame for Joel and made several other pieces for other children in the group. So, I went to see Mama Joel to see how the children were doing now two years later. I went to her shop where she charges and sells batteries and asked to see Rita and Joel. She looked down and said that Rita had passed away.

That afternoon there was an opening ceremony for two school blocks that the 2010 built at Ssanyu Primary School. I was so excited to attend this event because in 2008 we had also built school blocks there. Pastor Francis and Sister Ssanyu are wonderful people that started the school to serve the more vulnerable children in the community. When we first started working with them they only had a couple small and shabby classrooms that were already past capacity. By helping them build the first couple classes they were able to expand and take in more children. When the 2010 team arrived they had already built the foundation for two additional blocks and HELP contributed to helping them finish. Pastor Francis gave a speech and asked everyone to look around at the school and at the students, and he said that all of it had become possible because of the support that my 2008 team had given and the confidence that we had put in him and in the community. He said that the parents had been inspired by the help we had rendered and were excited to continue the work. He also explained that in working with Francis (this is a different Francis, a woman with a disability that is on town council) the building would be open to the group for people with disabilities that was taught to make and sell soap by the 2009 team. He asked me to stand and said that I had begun all of this. I was overwhelmed, and when asked to speak I didn’t know what to say. I told everyone how wonderful it was to be able to attend the opening ceremony for these school blocks on my first day back in Lugazi since on almost my last day in Lugazi two years ago we had had a ceremony for the first two blocks. I then got teary-eyed and said that Francis, Pastor Francis, and Sister Ssanyu were incredible people that I hope to be like one day. They are heroes to their community. The little help that we provided would have gone nowhere had it not been for their leadership and the commitment of the parents and community to make a better situation for their children.


On the way back from Ssanyu School I ran into one of the cousins of the family we had stayed with in 2008. She took me to that house and I was happy to find that the whole family was there. It was Ramadan and the sun was setting so they were preparing to end their fast. I didn’t want to stay long and delay their dinner, but they told me not to mind and brought me tea and snacks, even though they were not yet eating. They named each one of the 29 volunteers (plus Jackie of other CD) and had me report on how they were doing. It was wonderful to catch up with them and I was touched that they were so pleased to welcome me.

On Saturday I met Edith who was one of my first friends in Lugazi. Together with Steven (on Town Council and teacher at Lugazi Hillview Secondary School where we built a library in 2008) we went to visit a women’s group that had started a savings and loans program with the help of 2009 volunteers. They bring money to their meeting each week and save for 6 months. After 6 months they get the savings back and invest it into various projects. With help from Edith and Steven we interviewed many of the these women. This group happened to be near a woman named Christine who is the leader of a women’s group in Namengo that we worked with in 2008. She is one of the most incredible people I have even met. Her husband died of AIDS as did her sister. Now she has 6 children who she takes care of and pays school fees for. She also has AIDS and every time I see her she looks more fragile. In spite of all of this (or perhaps because of it) she is extraordinarily strong and hardworking. Since we worked with her in 2008 she has built 3 clay stoves and started a piggery project. She now has new baby pigs and is hoping to expand the piggery to fit them. The piggery helps pay for her children’s school fees and her medical expenses.

On Sunday I met Pastor Josiah and he drove me on his boda boda (motorcycle) through the sugar came fields, past a small stream where women line up to collect water, up several hills and into a village called Seya. In Seya Pastor Josiah and his wife Annet run a primary school and help with an orphanage called Hope Children’s Home. HELP built a stove, pig pen, and chicken coup at the Children’s Home and two school blocks at the primary school. They also have done teacher training at the primary school for three years. When I arrived they were cooking me lunch on the adobe stove we built in 2008. It was still working wonderfully! Also, their pigs had just had new babies and they had plans to expand the piggery.

I went to Pastor Josiah’s house and saw their new baby boy, Jeremiah, that was only a few months old. I also saw their little girl that had been born when I was there. We all went together to church. Their services are probably my favorite church services I have ever attended. Someone speaks for a few minutes, during which people are free to yell out “Amen” or “Praise God” or really anything they feel like saying. Then suddenly (maybe its only suddenly to me because I don’t know what was being said during the speech) the music starts playing and everyone begins singing. The singing gets louder and louder and as it crescendos people begin dancing and their movement get larger and larger until finally the air is full with energy and people are jumping as high as they can and yelling and others or on their knees and others are shaking. Finally someone puts their arms into the air and starts chanting to himself or herself and then everyone else eventually follows. Then someone else gets up to speak and we all start over again. There is probably lots of meaning and emotion behind everything that is happening but because I don’t know Luganda I am probably missing a lot. For me though its great because it combines so many of the things I love: dancing, talking to myself, singing, yelling, acting weird, Uganda, and old people.

That afternoon I went back to Lugazi for a game night with The Youth Outreach Mission (TYOM). A guy named Wilson Laker, who is originally from Gulu but now lives in Lugazi, started TYOM. When he was finishing secondary school his friend died of AIDS and it moved him to try and do something about the disease. Wilson, and a group of his friends, began visiting schools and teaching kids about HIV/AIDS. We ran into them in 2008 and a volunteer named Ashley Ward got them involved in our HIV/AIDS support group. They helped us build showers and stoves at the group members’ houses and continued to build these facilities at houses once we had left. Since then they have started a football club for street children, help put on HIV/AIDS advocacy days, and helped set up two eye camps. They have been helped by HELP volunteers who go back to the states and stay involved with TYOM by sending t-shirts, setting up a website, and even sending some money. Now, they have an office in town and just received a grant from the town council which will allow them to start a animal husbandry project which will hopefully help generate income so they can expand to new projects. It was wonderful to be with them and especially to talk with Wilson about all they were able to accomplish in two years. He was so appreciative to me and said that meeting Jackie and I was a turning point for TYOM that has made everything possible. I was uncomfortable with the praise since I was weary about TYOM in the beginning and think that had Wilson not been so persistent we might have dropped our project with them altogether. But, I am glad we continued to work with them and I have a feeling that I will continue to be involved with TYOM. I just know that it is going to continue to expand and I hope to be part of it.

That night I went back to Seya. They boiled water over the stove and gave it to me to bathe with. Then Annet showed me my room and they brought us dinner. We sat on the bed eating dinner and talking for hours. Finally Annet said goodnight and I lay in bed listening to the orphan girls in the next room whispering and giggling to each other. At one point they started singing "head, shoulders, knees, and toes" which I knew was for me.

David called me from New York that night and I tried to express how grateful and happy I was for everything that had been happening to me since I reached Uganda. My heart was so full and I was overwhelmed with emotion. I really wish he had been there with me and could have experienced it too, because my descriptions were lost over the phone.

On Monday I met with TYOM all day. I went to their office in Lugazi and we discussed the evaluation that I am working on for HELP. They were incredibly helpful in getting the interview questions right and figuring out the particulars of the methodology.

On Tuesday I went with David Olweny to his home in Tororo. David was our guard in 2008 and I have stayed in touch with him since. I have sent him money from time to time to help him pay the school fees of his brother’s children who were left orphaned. He was also the guard for HELP in 2009 and 2010. We had to wake up at five in the morning and loaded our boda boda’s up with all of David’s stuff because he was moving back home. This summer his house was robbed and the thieves took his goats. So, the HELP team bought him 2 goats and during the summer one of them had a baby. Which means my boda carried me, the driver, the backpack I brought to Uganda, my purse, one baby goat in a box, and one full-grown goat wrapped around the driver’s waist.

Our bodas took us to a spot where we caught a minibus and then it was only a 5-6 hour drive to Tororo where we got a private hire to make it out to David’s village. When we arrived David’s little boy George (everyone calls him Georgie) came running up saying “daddy, daddy”. He looks exactly like David and is absolutely darling. He had some infection that made his fingernail kinda rot and fall off. He showed it to us and made a sad face so that we would comment. David put all his things down and looked at the finger and cooed in Georgie’s ear to comfort him. I also met Irene (everyone calls her Irenie). She is only 7 months old and one of the most beautiful little girls I have ever seen. She had a cold so was acting very docile but still happy. I spent the rest of the afternoon hugging and kissing them and making them play games with me. David’s wife made a wonderful lunch and dinner for me. They know how much I like avocado so they had plenty of it for me to mix with my matoke, rice, beans, and greens (like spinach). They also bought bananas for me.

David took me to the old church that was built on a pile of stones. He also took me to his family’s house where he grew up. He showed me the graves of his parents and his to siblings that had died. He is the only one left of his close family. He also took me to his auntie’s house and introduced me to the two little girls that I had sent money for. They are still going to school and were very sweet, though extremely quiet. They both held my hands the entire time I was there but were afraid to look at me for too long.

We went to town and bought Rocky in Luganda subtitles. We brought it home and everyone piled into the small thatched-roof hut to watch it on my laptop. They brought a mat for me to lay on and I fell asleep. David woke me up and showed me to the only mattress in the hut. I protested but David insisted that I sleep there. In the morning I woke up to find David, his wife, Irene, and Georgie snuggled up to one another sleeping on a mat under the same mosquito net. The sight of how effortlessly they fit together and how freely they seemed to love each other made me cry. It is so wonderful to me that no matter where you go in the world love is common, it always looks the same.

I had to leave rather early the next morning and begin the trek back to Kampala. Once I finally made it to Kampala I met up with David Opiro and Wilson Laker. Both are good friends of mine and both are attending university in Kampala. I agreed to hang out with me all night because I had to be at the airport at 2am and didn’t want to pay for a hotel room or travel at night alone. So we wandered around Kampala. First we went to a super fancy hotel and said we were considering it as a venue for an upcoming event and got a tour of the conference rooms and dining rooms. We also loitered around the lobby and sat and listened to a piano player.

We saw a World Bank cocktail party going on and I begged the boys to crash it with me, but they insisted that that was a horrible idea. Instead we went to a restaurant/bar and had fish and chips. Then we danced the rest of the night. It was amazing to spend my last few hours in Uganda with two amazing friends dancing to local music. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Weekends

So my two new favorite people are Melody (who is the new agriculture officer for USAID) and her husband Keith. They have really cool career experience, met and fell in love and got married in Kenya, and have worked in Afghanistan and Sudan. But even better they are just extremely cool and really fun to hang out with and really nice to me. On the weekend of July 23rd they took Karolyn (the new democracy and governance officer at USAID), Molly, and I to a lodge in Senga Bay on Lake Malawi. It was a SUPER relaxing weekend. I read and laid in the sun and tried not to get eaten by baboons and kayaked and ate yummy food and hiked.

On 31st that same group went to Dedza. On the way there I ate a mouse. All along the roadside in Malawi boys hold up sticks with rows of dead mice on them. They typically burn grassy fields and then catch mice as they run out of their holes in the ground. Then they take out the intestines then they smoke the mice. They don’t take off the head or the fur or anything, and people eat them just like that. I had mentioned it to everyone that I would have to eat a mouse before I left Malawi. Keith really latched onto this promise of mine and stopped alongside the road when he saw a groups of mice-sellers. I bought a mouse and took a bite. I saw the redness of the inside and immediately sit it our because I thought it wasn’t cooked. But as I examined the non-chewed portion of the mouse I realized it was in fact cooked. In fact it was very cooked and dry. So I took a real bite and swallowed. I wrote on facebook later that I had eaten a mouse which I suppose is slightly misleading because really I just ate a piece of a mouse. I hope my internet persona hasn’t lost all credibility.

Anyway, we went to this place where they make lots of nice pottery and had a great lunch. Then, we went on search for these 2,000 year old cave paintings. The guidebook took us down a dirt road, through a couple villages, and finally to the base of a mountain where there was an old Catholic church. We got out of the car not knowing where to go from that point. Then, several small children from the village came up to us and asked if, by chance, we would like to see the paints. Why yes, in fact, we would.

They took us on a hike up the mountain. And finally we got to the crest where there was a small cave and, behold, cave paints. The paints were of various animals. We sat there for awhile looking back and forth from the paintings to the gorgeous view. I started talking to a girl named Elizabeth, who spoke awesome English. She told me about all the tourists that come to see the paintings and how she enjoys talking to them so she can get better English because she wants to be a nurse.

USAID

The week of July 12th I started working with USAID. I am super interested in this agency and feel so lucky that I had the chance to do some work for them and get to know staff members and ask millions of questions. Curt, the Mission Director, is amazing. He has had a really impressive and accomplished career and everyone really respects him. Also, every time I have talked to him I have been really impressed with how intelligent and insightful he is. The kind of person I feel as if I could just stand next to long enough maybe some of his knowledge might just accidently drift into my head.

Anyway I met with him and he asked me to do research on options for country-owned sustainable health financing in Malawi, with a specific focus on HIV/AIDS treatment. I don’t have any education in public health, however I am fairly comfortable with policy research so I agreed (plus I am really intimidated by him so I probably would have said yes to any topic).

I also met with Patrick, the Program Officer, who I have met at lots of social events previously. Patrick is really “cool” and fun and smart. It was weird being with him in such a professional setting and seeing how dynamics change in the office. He asked me to go on site visits with Archangel (yes, that is a guy’s real name) as he did data quality assessments. My role would be to use the USAID standard checklist to evaluate how the programs we visited incorporated gender.

Both of these projects turned out to be awesome. I got to visit projects from several big-time NGOs that are working in Malawi. I loved asking questions about gender, which sparked really interesting conversations about at what point is it appropriate to challenge local culture to promote gender equity.

I also really got into the research that Curt gave me. I contacted USAID staff in several different countries in Africa asking their opinion about health financing. I also found a lot of interesting methods that are being used to financing health throughout the continent. I worked on this project for 3 weeks and finally presented it to Curt the week of July 26th.

When I walked into Curt’s office for our meeting I was surprised to see that he had printed off the paper I sent him and had clearly read the whole thing and had taken notes in the margins. We had a wonderful conversation and Curt posed some really insightful questions about the whole issue. He also told me about when he used to work in Rwanda, and we talked a little about the research I had done on Rwanda for my senior capstone. I felt really lucky to have been able to talk to someone so experienced about the development topics that I am so passionate about. Anyway at the end of our conversation he asked me to present my research to a group of mission employees on August 11th. I am so excited and twice as nervous!

Zambia

We didn’t have work the 5th or 6th of July. The US Embassy took July 5th off because July 4th landed on a Sunday, and July 6th is Malawi’s Independence Day, so we take that off too. Molly and I used the short week as an excuse to go on safari in Zambia

To be honest I wasn’t exactly out-of-my-mind excited about it. First of all it was kind of expensive. Second, I went on an amazing safari a couple years ago in the Serengeti and felt as though there was no way that this safari could top it. Third, while I think animals look cool I don’t think I get the same enjoyment out of staring at them as some people do. Fourth, safaris mean sitting in cars for a long time and not really moving for several days. Fifth, there is something kind of stereotypical and colonial about putting on khakis, hanging out with a bunch of white people, and paying Africans to point out their homeland to me.

Anyway, all that said it was a pretty cool experience. The first night I woke up and looked out my tent to see a hippo probably less than two feet from my head. It was just chillin’ and eating grass right next to my tent. I woke up about an hour later to see an elephant and its baby stroll by.

Independence Days

This weekend was full of parties. On Friday night there was an official party at the Ambassador’s house for July 4th. Important people in the Malawian government, other embassies, and big NGOs came. It was very glamorous and people brought around endless trays of wine and finger foods. I had a good time talking to a very diverse group of people. When I finally left the Ambassador’s house I went to a bar appropriately named Diplomats. It was Molly (my roommate), Doug (Facilities Management Officer, State), Youseff (USAID), Jason (Peace Corp staff), and I. Molly and Doug left early but the rest of us stayed and watched Ghana vs. Uruguay. The bar was packed with people. Everyone was supporting Ghana, hoping that an African team would prevail. However, as you know, Ghana lost and the whole crowd let out groan. I think the night might have turned out more lively had Ghana won. After the game we when to a night club and danced and danced and danced.

The next day we had the July 4th party for all Americans in Malawi. Again it was held at the Ambassador’s house. It was full of US Mission people, Peace Corp volunteers, and the occasional cluster of religious missionaries and NGO staff. It was a fun family-friendly event with face painting and cheeseburgers and a proliferation of American flags. After cleaning up the party a small group of State Department people stayed and drank and talked with the Ambassador. It was a nice atmosphere and really fun to have more in-depth conversations with these people and hear stories from their past posts.

Northern Malawi

The week of June 28 I traveled to Northern Malawi to review projects that have sent in applications for the Ambassador’s Self Help fund. This fund supports community initiatives that are aimed at increasing social or economic welfare. I am traveling with an FSN (foreign service national) named Victoria who is the project manager for the Self Help program.

I woke up Sunday morning at my house in Lilongwe and went jogging through the neighborhood and down this lovely dirt path that has a great view of the surrounding mountains. Victoria and Kenan (the driver) arrived to pick me up. We drove for almost an hour when I remembered that I forgot my wallet with all my money and my bank card. So we turned around, picked up my wallet, and set out again. We drove for about 4.5 hours and reached Mzuzu. There we had a quick pit stop and I bought the largest avocado I have ever seen. Another couple hours later we reached Karonga where we will be staying for two nights.

The next morning we drove from over two hours (mostly on a thin and pot-holed dirt road) to reach the first site. The road was gorgeous and twisted past Lake Malawi and up florescent green mountains. We saw a small twister on the lake that shot down from a heavy dark cloud. The car jostled from rut to rut. We saw groups of baboons clustered on the side of the road.

The site was a primary school on the very top of one of the mountains. The vista was beautiful and displayed the lake on one side and rolling mountains covered in crops wrapped around to form the rest of the view. The community had built the school because the next school was so far away that many children weren’t attending school. There were two dilapidated, dirt floor, thatched-roofed, brick structures that the students were currently learning in. There were only a couple makeshift wood benches enough for a few students to sit on. The community wanted Self Help funds to erect better school blocks that could keep the kids dry during rainy season and create a better environment for them to learn.

We visited many projects throughout the week. Several more for school blocks. One of the communities that proposed a school block project had 8 children hit by cars in the last couple years. A closer primary school would prevent them from having to walk so far on the busy road. Another project for school blocks was at a school for deaf children. It was a really interesting school that took kids from all over the country, taught them language skills, and worked to ready them for secondary school. Before we left they preformed a dance for us. We also visited project proposals for a family planning and maternal health clinic, HIV/AIDS meeting house, library, and water system. On Thursday I took the bus home from Mzuzu because I needed to be in Lilongwe for the embassy’s July 4th celebrations. Victoria and Kennan stayed because there were still more sites to visit.

Nice to meet you Mr. President

This last week I was in the consular’s office. The Consular Officer, Peter, loves his job and was more that eager to share his experiences with me. I did visa interviews, processed passports, got materials ready for the US citizens services desk that will be at the 4th of July event, and visited airline offices to pass out passport inspection materials. The foreign service national (FSN) in the consular’s office is Davis. He is a really fun guy and we had a good time joking around and discussing cases with Peter.

On Monday night Molly and I were invited to the Ambassador’s house for a reception for a organization called Women’s Campaign International (WCI). WCI is an organization that promotes women’s participation in democracies around the world. They support political campaigns and provide resources and training for female candidates in the developing countries. They also promote women’s related issues like family planning and maternal health. Upon arrival I met the Ambassador for the first time. He had been away preparing for his next post in Iraq. I also met the current First Lady of Malawi who was absolutely elegant. Later that evening I had a wonderful conversation with the long-time girlfriend of the former long-time president, Banda.

Also this week Molly and I went out often we Doug, the Facilities Management Officer (FMO) and the newly arrived Secret Service members. The Secret Service was here preparing for the upcoming visit of Bill Clinton. The former president is in South Africa attending some World Cup games and planned to come and visit Malawi to see the projects that the Clinton Foundation is doing here. All the Secret Service people are really fun and we always had a good time going out and drinking and talking and laughing.

Peter is also doubling as the Regional Security Officer (RSO) because the RSO is out of the country. Therefore, he was responsible for coordinating with the Secret Service to plan the security for the visit, and by extension, I got to witness the preparations. It was absolutely fascinating to see all the background work that goes behind one visit. I feel really lucky to have been able to see something so hidden from the view of most people.

Friday brought even more excitement. I arrived at work early that morning and got in an embassy car to join the police-led motorcade to the airport. On the way we picked up the Secret Service agents from their hotel. We waited at the airport for almost two hours and then the plan came. I walked out to the tarmac and then President Clinton came out of the plane. Peter shook his hand and then introduced me. Bill Clinton asked me about my internship and where I go to school and where I am from. I think I answered all of those questions correctly….but I was really nervous so who knows.

After the former president left for his visits, Peter and I took the passports of everyone that was on the plane and made sure that were stamped and the entry cards were filled out. Later that night we went back to the airport (this time joined by Molly, the Political Officer, the Ambassador, and his wife). We stood by the plane and got pictures with Bill Clinton. Then, he actually stayed and talked to us for awhile about Africa and development and agriculture……it was awesome.

Down South

We (Mayeso, the driver and I) left for Blantyre in the afternoon. The drive is just a few hours but I slept the entire way. I suppose I will still getting over some jet lag. We got to Blantyre in the early evening and got some pretty good pizza. The next morning we went from news station to new station picking up reporters. Once the car was full we headed for Malanje.

We visited a bird’s eye chili farmer’s cooperative. ADF, in partnership with the Malawian government, helped provide funds for the cooperative to start a factory. There, they turn the chili’s into higher-value products. This increases the incomes of the small farmers and provides more jobs for community members.

When we drove in a group of about 30 women were standing in a circle singing and dancing. As we got out of the car they turned toward us and sang to us. It was fantastic! Mayeso showed me how to use the embassy’s camera while we waited for the ADF Chairman, Jack Leslie, and staff to arrive. It would be my responsibility to take pictures of the event that could be used in news coverage.

The Chairman finally arrived with his two kids and the Malawi Program Director. Jack Leslie’s kids are both in college (one is a freshman and the other a senior). They have the good fortune of being able to accompany their dad as he does a tour of ADF’s programs throughout Africa. Both of them were really nice and excited to be longer for the ride.

The program in Malanje was full of photo ops. and tours of the factory and speeches and press interviews and gift giving. However, it was also punctuated with choreographed dances and songs. All of the performances were mini-dramas with a plot and usually some detectable social message.

That night I went with Mayeso to a local resturante and had insima for the first time. Any of you who read my Uganda blog will remember the cultural staple called Matoke. Well, encima is the Malawi’s Matoke. It is a white mush made from maize that you work between your fingers until it’s a good scope for picking up the other items on your plate. I had it with beans and it was pretty good.

On the way home the next morning we stopped on the side of the road and the driver bought mice on a stick. Apparently this is also a common Malawian food. I will try it eventually, but today wasn’t the day.

Its time for Africa

Here I am again. Another summer and another attempt to write a blog. I have a computer at my home, so I can write often. However since I can’t transfer documents to Embassy computers for security reasons, I can only post when I have time to get to an internet café. However, I hope to be able to blog at least once a week…..we will see!

Already this experience is vastly different from working in Uganda and Fiji. First of all, all logistics were set before I came. Another intern (Molly) and myself stay a HUGE house. I have a real mattress for the first time in two yeas. Beat that air mattress! The kitchen has a refrigerator, microwave, and oven. And…can you believe it….I have hot water! What is more, the State Department has a car service that takes us where we need to be. I have been eating well too. There are several nice restaurants in Lilongwe that my colleagues have been nice enough to take me to. All of this is wonderful, but makes me feel disconnected from the people here.

Monday was my first day of work. It was an absolute whirlwind. We started the morning by talking to human resources and the medical office. We also met with the Political, Economic, and Public Affairs officers who gave us an introduction to their jobs and their staff. Then we met with the Deputy Chief of Mission, who is now the acting ambassador while the Ambassador is away from Malawi. Everyone was extremely nice and void of the kind of pompous you might expect from diplomats.

The most exciting part of the day came when the Public Affairs officer came in and asked if I wouldn’t mind traveling to Malanje the following day to help set things up for a visit from the African Development Fund Chairman. Of course I would!

The African Development Fund (ADF) is a government agency started over 30 years ago to implement community-driven development projects. They have a unique niche because their budget is neither the gargantuan size of USAID or the feeble size of grassroots NGOs. Thus, they can fund projects in the middle that often get overlooked. Also, ADF is one of the first larger organizations to use participatory methods, which means that communities are highly engaged in designing and implementing projects.

The Chairman of the Board will go to Malanje to do a site visit and see possibilities for new projects. I will go there with Mayeso, who is one of the staff members in Public Affairs. We will gather journalists and transport them to the site. Aparently, you have to provide transport for journalists in Malawi if you want coverage, because budgets are so small.

A few of our projects

Our team has done an incredible job of getting projects off the ground. Project setup is always an arduous task, especially in a new culture with different concepts of time. However, the volunteers have managed to get things rolling and the last couple weeks have been really exciting.

Stoves: We built our 2nd stove in the Nabuna Village. This one went MUCH more smoothly than the first. We met with a group of about 15 women and talked with them about the advantages of cooking with an enclosed stove with a chimney. Then, we built the stove together. Luckily, Nabuna has a pond surrounded by clay, so the women had all of the clay ready before we arrived. These women are motivated and proactive, and consistently asked us questions to ensure they understood the construction process. In particular, the wife to the speaker of the village, Calara, was incredibly enthusiastic. She explained that this project was so important to her and her friends, because they can build the stoves on their own, and need not rely on their husbands.

We planned to start our 3rd stove with a women’s group in Tavua Levu this Monday. However, when we showed up we discovered that the clay they had gathered was actually dirt (the word for clay in Fijian is the same word as dirt). I spent most of that day on a treasure hunt for clay around the river, the train tracks, and the site where they used to make bricks. All searching was in vain. Finally, we visited Nabuna Village and asked to use some of their clay. They agreed and we built the stove on Tuesday in about 2 hours.

Business: We are working with small groups of individuals in the villages and in town to start small businesses or improve the small businesses they may have. We have quickly discovered that a major need in Fiji is learning saving and personal finance. Because people are so communal and generous, they often give money as soon as they accumulate it. Therefore, they don’t keep savings in case of hard-times or to invest in the future. Volunteers mold lessons around the participants and then mentor them individually to implement concepts that are taught.
Being in this culture has made me rethink the traditional model of business training. In America, we emphasize self-reliance and individual initiative. However, here those values seem anti-social and greedy. And, I have to agree that the Western model encourages self-interest often at the expense of social values. I am starting to favor more cooperative models that might better fit this culture, where village members would have a stake in the business and the profits could benefit the whole.

Gardening: Nate, Bryce, and Jacob have really become excited about teaching basic gardening techniques. They have done some gardens with the men in Rukuruku Village, who have been really proactive about duplicating the gardens throughout the village and incorporating traditional methods with the new techniques. Nico, an outgoing and fun-loving man, has agreed to come with us to other villages and teach the method.

Health: A lot of our volunteers are majoring in public health and have been able to use their knowledge. People here have been extremely excited about learning different aspects of health (First Aid, family planning, nutrition). Volunteers have been creating lessons based on the participants.

Schools: Maria, Libbie, and Piper are three young girls who have just finished their first year of university. They have absolutely astounded me at how proactive they have been about getting tutoring programs in the schools setup. We work one-on-one with struggling kids, mostly on reading comprehension. They are also talking about implementing short lessons on life-skills (relationships, drug abuse, sex, anger management, goal-setting etc)

Staying Young

Friday night we decided to go to Betham Cottage that the woman had told us about earlier that day. We took a public bus to Rakiraki where we had planned to take taxis to the Ellington Warf. But since the bus driver had run his last route of the day he offered to take us to the Warf for cheaper than we could go by taxi. Being the only passengers on board, our transport turned into a party bus as we danced and sang to a random mix of 90s American pop, Island Reggae, and hip hop.

When we reached the Warf it was dark, raining heavily, and the boats that were supposed to meet us were nowhere in sight. We huddled together trying to shield each other from the rain. Finally, a slender Fijian man engulfed by a yellow plastic fisherman’s coat pulled into the bank on a small motorboat. He was followed by Rob, the six year-old New Zealand hostel manager I had spoken with on the phone. He was also wearing a yellow coat which just covered soaked gray sweat shorts. Rob’s boat was even smaller than the first and fit only Piper, Heather, David, and I. We were offered yellow coats to share and the boats pushed off into the choppy sea. Our boat made painfully slow progress as the motor whined and spat and started over the waves. Rob made small talk and randomly stated that he knew where we were going. He stopped every so often, attempting to pull something out of the engine. In the middle of at forced conversation about Fiji travel, Rob made an announcement, “I have a weak bladder. I just going to slow down the boat and point myself over the edge if you don’t mind.” David squeezed my leg to keep from laughing as Rob turned around and started to whistle.

We were met at the beach by two Fijian women who directed us to wash our feet, showed us our rooms, and made us dinner. We spent Saturday at the resort sunbathing, swimming, and gazing at fish.

By Saturday night we were back in Tavua and a group of us attended the first birthday of our friend Susana’s daughter. It was an elaborate gathering of at least 150 people, festive mats, multi-colored decorations, balloons, noise-makers, and a huge feast. We sat cross-legged on the mat and ate until the kids came over and got Tori, David, Sara, Natalie, and Bre to dance with them. The women pushed them towards the middle of the mat and they soon became the sole form of entertainment for the night.

Maria and I slipped out with one of the nurses from the hospital who invited us to drink kava at her cousin’s house. I sat next to a gray-hair round Fijian man who kept teasing one of the younger men about his wife. When I asked him what the banter was over he exclaimed, “I’m always funny. That’s why I’m young”. He proceeded to tell me about his life. He had never went to school past the 6th grade because he had to cut sugar cane to support his family of 5 younger siblings and parents who unable to work. He told me he was smart and learned construction and hunting and fishing through observing. He had helped build the fruit market in the center of town. He remembers well the days of colonialism and exploitation. He talked of more recent things and ended his story with some joke about birds or women that I didn’t understand.

Adventures in Stove-Making

Thursday we began building an adobe stove at Rusila’s house in Tavua Levu Village. Since Tori (volunteer who came with me to Uganda last year) and I are the only ones who are trained on the method, we decided to build a practice stove at Rusila’s to train everyone else. In addition, we wanted to work out all of the challenges that would inevitably come with building the stoves in a new culture and climate.

We began digging and sorting clay, setting the banana stock pipes, and filling the stove. As the day wore on, the clay pit began drying up, and we found ourselves running very short on the most essential ingredient. Some of Rusila’s nieces took us to different spots where we might find clay. Finally, they brought us to a pond where they used to make bricks. We felt the mud at the bank, which was stickier than regular mud. Desperate, we waded through lake and start throwing globs of river mud into potatoe sacks. My legs were buried up to my mid-calf in lake mud, holding me steady as I felt for and pulled out the most clayish portions. The young kids jumped in started helping. They would bring the clay to me for quality control before they dumped it into the bag.

The bags were ridiculously heavy and when we dumped them out next to the stove, we all laughed pitifully as we came to the realization that the brown gunk was not clay. The sun was beginning to set, so we sent a group back to the original clay pit to excavate what they could and worked feverishly to finish before dark. In order to the fill the stove we began pulled clay from the sides and regions of the stove that seemed less necessary, literally cutting corners to make the clay stretch further. The sun set with the stove unfinished, and we reluctantly planned to come back the following morning to finish. We talked with the village women who were helping us and asked if they could think of anywhere else that we might find clay. They agreed to take us somewhere new in the morning.

On Friday morning at 6:00 David, Bre, Kirsten, Sara, Nate, his wife Cami, and I rolled out of the house and back to the stove. Rusila and her nine year-old cousin, John, led us down unused train tracks to a section where large banks of mud had been overturned. We dug through it and found random clumps of clay and filled our bags with it. We had arranged for a truck to come pick up the load, but before it arrived Kirsten left for a vacation she was taking with a group of our volunteers, Rusila left for a trip to Suva, and Nate and Cami left to teach gardening at Yauladrou.

David, Bre, Sara, and I sat on the tracks for at least an hour throwing clumps of mud into puddles and talking about life and Fiji and poverty and relationships. Finally, we realized the truck wasn’t coming and David set off to find some sort of transport for the clay. As soon as he left a women motioned us to come to her home.

It was a lovely place just outside the village which had obviously been landscaped with great care. She had us sit on a damp pink plush cushion and served us delicious mango juice. She was more well-off than the nearby village-dwellers and was intent on us understanding this distinction as she named the white-collar occupations of her neighbors (policemen, nurses, and teachers). She told us about the husband who had left her and the son who had mixed with the wrong crowd and ended up in jail. We finished covering the major events of our lives, just as David called wondering where we were. As we hurried out of her yard she suggested we stay at Betham Cottage, a beach resort on a nearby island that night.

When we got back to the stove, we were glad we hadn’t decided to just finish it the night before. In the light we could see how ridiculous it looked with the random bore holes we had made the night before. With a fresh supply of clay we filled them in and began filling the rest of the stove. Nate, Cami, Tori, Natalie, and Heather joined us as they had finished their work at Yauladrou. Soon after it began to pour rain. Frantically, we grabbed tarps which the kids held at the corners as David, Nate, Tori, and I crouched and packed the increasingly wet clay that the others were tirelessly bringing to us. Nate drilled holes in the frame to drain off the water and we scooped handfuls of water from the top to avoid all our work being in vain.
At last we finished, covered the stove with tarps, and stood in the rain taking inventory of how dirty we were. Someone through a fistful of mud and almost instinctively all of our volunteers began chucking mud at each other. The kids laughed and squealed with excitement and joined in. After some time the kids began running towards the river, pulling us along. Our step crescendoed to a full sprint along the train tracks until we came to the bridge and jumped into the river.

Getting Started

Our volunteers have been here for almost an entire week. On Monday, all of our volunteers who are interested in health went to the Tavua Hospital (one of the smallest on Viti Levu). Dr. Dasi, the young ambitious Indian woman who is the newly appointed head administrator of the hospital, met us and spoke excitedly about her plans to improve the hospital and how our volunteers could help. She wants our volunteers to plan 6 public health events this summer as well as visit schools in the interior of the island. We also talked with her about building a Square-Foot Garden at the hospital that could supplement the cost of patient food, and act as a model garden. She was very excited about this idea and our Project Lead, Nate, got the work started that very morning.

We were taken to a dense piece of jungle just below the main grounds of the hospital. We got machetes and gloves and began pulling the gigantic weeds out of the ground. The bush was taller the 6 feet in some places and we set a goal of clearing a 10 feet radius that day. Soon people passing by the hospital started to gather to watch the silly Americans try to cut the bush. Some joined in, teaching us more effective ways of clearing. Our group got really into it and the cleared space grew faster than we expected. In the afternoon the hospital staff joined us and we cleared a space of 150ft X 50ft space. Several huge mounds of hospital trash and dried brush accumulated along the sides of the clearing. Curiously, the Health Inspector and the Head Physician lit the rubbish stacks on fire to burn them down. When I asked them about the wisdom of burning the medical waste, the Health Inspector dismissed the thought and began ranting about pollution in America and how no one there could see the sky.

I took volunteers back to Rukuruku and Nabuna villages this week. In Nabuna we met with the women and discussed the stove we will build there next week. When the meeting was over we stayed there, played rugby and danced with the kids. The women gathered around, laughing hysterically at our dancing and pushing their children forward to show Fijian action songs. Then, the men invited us over for kava and we sat with them under a huge shade tree.

Later in the week we met with the men, women, and youth in Rukuruku. I am not sure if it was because the meeting wasn’t ceremonial, or if it was because David wasn’t accompanying me, but I did not feel the pressure to remain silent as I had in the introduction. In fact, I was ushered to the front of the mat and encouraged to address the entire group.

Village Meetings

Bishop David and his wife, Flo, have been unbelievably helpful in getting us in contact with village elders. It is very rude to simply enter a village uninvited and all work must be done through headmen. We must first meet with the headmen and ask their permission.
This is done through a short introduction ceremony where we present what is called a sevusevu. I had read about this in one of my travel books, but had no idea how it played out in reality, and that it is taken very seriously.


Tuesday we had our first such meeting with Vailuakulia Village. David, my co-director and I met with Rusila early in the morning and bought special kava that is still in the root form (before it is ground) and get it festively wrapped in brown paper and raffia-like string. We then took a taxi that again dropped us in the middle of sugar cane fields. After a few minutes we reached the village and sat in Rusila’s Auntie’s house where we were to met by the spokesperson and gave him the kava. Once the headmen were ready, the spokesman led us to where they were seated on a grass mat. On the walk over Rusila explained that placement on the mat is very important. Those with most authority sit at the top of the mat and those with less authority and women sit further back. However, it can be tricky to know which is the top. Luckily, one of the men pointed to where we should go. We take off our shoes, and sat crossed legged facing the top of the mat.


The spokesman held out the sevusevu, placed it in front of him, and announced something in Fijian. The headmen chanted something then clapped, which surprised me so much I had to repress a sudden grasp. The sevusevu was then passed to another man that made a different, longer proclamation, followed by more chanting and clapping. The spokesman looked at David and asked him to introduce us. He talked about HELP and the type of projects that we could work on and asked them to explain the needs that exist in their village. The men began asking questions about the business training and small farming. When I tried to answer, the men looked at David and there was an awkward pause. So, David tried calling on me to answer questions. I would give an explanation; the response would then be directed to David, who would either answer or refer to me again. Eventually, one of the women spoke up to ask David questions about 1st aid and English literacy. Once the women began talking, I was more free to answer questions and add opinions. However, I quickly noticed that any sort of assertive tendencies from me were not appreciate and responded to with silence. I tried to lean away from by proclivity to be dominant and speak only when I thought the conversation needed to be steered in one direction or another.


Tuesday night we met with Nabuna Village which we were told was a bit more closed and traditional that Vailuakulia. This time we were accompanied by Flo, Rusila, Tui, Vika, and a few others. Flo sat next to me as we waited to be led to were the headman sat and explained that the village might not accept us. She explained that they are worried that we are a church group that would interfere with the work that the Salvation Army might do in their Nabuna. We had to wait much longer than in Vailuakulia. The long build-up and the fact it was dark, gave the walk to the headmen an almost eerie feel. As we approached the mat, we didn’t know where the top was and there was an awkward break. David was pushed to the top of the mat and I followed Flo to sit behind with the women. There was brief whispering and I was directed to move in front just below David. It is rude to stand completely upright and walk on the mat and even more rude to cross between people. So I had to crouch, walk on the perimeter on the mat and say “Tulo” (excuse me) for each person I passed. I felt ridiculous.


Rusila was asked to come sit between David and so she could translate for him. She giggled quietly and whispered to me that she felt very silly sitting at the top of the mat. The same sevusevu introduction unfolded and David began speaking. After a brief explanation, he waited for response. Being used to American flow of conversation, he began to feel uncomfortable after 30 seconds of silence and begin talking again, then asking for feedback. This cycle happened a couple times until I touched him on the knee and whispered that he should be patient and let the silence settle for a bit. After a moment one of the headmen nodded “vinaka” and small groups broke out into whispers. Eventually, the whispering developed into questions, and the discussion evolved naturally from there. David and I started to develop a better pattern of presenting. I would let all questions go to him first, instead of trying to answer awkwardly. If David wanting me to answer or he could detect I had something to say, he would ask me to explain. I tried to do so humbly, looking at David periodically to indicate I wasn’t taking his thunder. Often I would simply whisper things for David to repeat to the whole group.


The first questions came from the men. They were skeptical about the business training and explained that there has already been a group teaching business training in the village, and what they needed now were loans to start small businesses. The conversation was leaning towards the men deciding they might not need us, when one of the women spoke up. She got permission to speak then meekly asked about the stoves we could teach build and all the women reacted excitedly as I explained the concept. The direction quickly shifted as the women began to explain why they needed stoves with chimneys. The men seemed to nod it capitulation, and it was decided that we would start next week.


As we left, I asked Tui when and how I should speak. He smiled kindly then looked to David and said, “Ashley should feel free.”


As a liberal, independent, American women- and a particularly stubborn, outspoken one at that- I have to admit that this patriarchal society is a bit hard for me to take. However, in spite their submission in public gatherings, the women here seem to be an empowered, respected part of society. In fact, it is the women here who move things forward. I am trying to study them and discover their subtle way of making things happen. I am thinking that there might be strength to silence. As I have been focusing on what is being heard, rather than what is being said, I have been better able to gage the reaction of participants, and subtly steer the conversation to fit the group.