Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
15 Mai – Lavie
Although I have driven through it countless times, I have never actually stopped in Lavie for more than 10 minutes…yesterday morning Jules picked me up and, camera in hand, we went to take pictures of his clients for Kiva postings. As soon as I picked up a bit of Kiva work again (unofficially of course, in my personal capacity) the frustrated observations came rolling back, even more starkly in one of the poorest villages I have seen yet in Togo.
Jules’ work as Chef of the Lavie caisse, of whichhe is incredibly proud, centers around providing tiny loans in the villages between Kpalimé and Adéta – Kpimé-Seva, known for its spectacular cascade, Lavie itself, where old men lounge under an enormous mango tree and petit-commerce somehow manages to eke out some meager existence and Akata, a sandy village that I swear has as many goats as it does people, all roaming about aimlessly…Jules beams when he shouts backwind to me on his moto, “Ici, c’est mon travail! Ils m’ont besoin!” (Here, this is my work! They need me!)
These are the bona fide African poor. In these villages a trip to Kpalimé is an annual and costly excursion…whose inhabitants sometimes never leave their dusty compounds and dismal mango stands except to forage in the bush for firewood, or to fill silver bowls with water at the pump and slowly slosh it back to their yards. Thus far, these villages are the only place in Togo that I felt a bit discouraged for these people. It was mostly in their reaction to me…the children were a more delighted, yovo-shreiking, giggling bunch than I have ever encountered…they literally followed me around the village in an ecstatic gaggle of jumbled ewe and toothy grins, squealing yovo! yovo! yovo! yovo! in unison until an old man (the most feared and revered member of these traditional communities) austerely cut off their parade and they tore themselves away from me in a somewhat-bashful-somewhat-frustrated retreat. While I was happy to snap their photo like a good yovo and wave and smile back at them, the fact that the only white people they ever see are those that speed by them in a commotion of dust and loud honking on their way to the next “tourist attraction” is incredibly sad. Everyone’s smiles were as wide and sincere as ever, but the lack of economic opportunity and stagnancy of their poverty was completely devastating…
There are exceptions of course. There are those that make the weekly trek into Kpalimé or Adéta to hawk goods at the marché rather than doze by the side of the road in hope that the occasional passerby might want to buy a tiny sack of arachides for 100CFA. There is also a man who has created a palm-roofed “factory” with 5 apprentices that, with their hands and bare feet, weave unique pagnes out of coarse thread (their weaving contraptions are fascinating.) But for the most part, these rural villages are static, sluggish and often forgotten. Their inhabitants are the poorest of the poor and, ironically but not surprisingly, are least able to benefit from microcredit – Kiva credit? Forget about it.
FECECAV has a tiny office in Lavie, an outpost of CECAV Avenir, with 2 employees, 2 rooms, 2 fans, and Jules at its helm. He is one of the most organized and proactive branch managers I have seen in action here and regrettably works on a computer that is so old and slow it can’t connect to a digital camera and a keyboard that is more often than not out of commission. As it is one of the smaller caisses, sort of by default and as a result of limited resources (not that I am justifying this by any means,) FECECAV doesn’t see upgrading his equipment as a priority. CECAV Avenir-Lavie does not generate as much revenue as other branches because of its own small size and, more importantly, the small size of its loans, which obviously yield less interest.
The petits crédits disbursed by CECAV Avenir-Lavie are a consequence of the type of people taking out these loans…the poorest clients who embody the real, intended impact of microfinance – a true MICRO loan, a starting point of a credit of $50 or less, for a client with everything to lose and no where to begin, destined to succeed little by little by little. I was struck by the genuine character of microfinance in Jules’ villages again and again, as he introduced me to clients who started out with loans as small as 10,000CFA ($25) and, after successfully paying it back, have now taken out $50 loans.
Tragically, these loans are the least desirable and profitable for an MFI, as it takes 50 of these miniature loans to accrue the same amount of interest as 2-3 larger loans – which would be given to someone with a larger capital guarantee or entrepreneurial experience. But don’t we have a social mission to try to also reach the poorest of the working poor? At the same time, how can it be worth it to an overstretched MFI working in a developing country to support clients that yield less of a profit in the short term? I see all sides of the equation and am unconvinced of a moral reconciliation of, on one hand, the immediacy of needs, cash-flow and entrepreneurship, and on the other, the long-term ethical benefits of exhaustedly providing tiny loans to the most desperate of the poor.
Additionally, and this is the point that upsets me, these loans are destined never to appear on the Kiva site. While FECECAV can sometimes justify privileging higher-interest loans, rich Americans cannot…
A major flaw in Kiva’s methodology is that they encourage (not necessarily intentionally) MFI to pass over these authentic micro-credits, because a) it is far too much work to post that many loans on the site (the current workload is painful enough) and b) the 0% interest rate will bring a larger monetary benefit to the MFI on a big loan. While financially this is a good thing for the MFI, it misses the ethical point of reaching the poorest of the poor. Which is Kiva aiming for? If it is the former, the social mission is greatly diminished – why not just give loans directly to the MFI, rather than make them do all of this work chasing down clients, taking photos, writing descriptions, and buying internet time? If you really want to give people a chance to “loan to the working poor,” you must make it possible to reach ALL of the working poor, the POOREST of the working poor, not just those that are most convenient…
I thought about whether it is ok to say that these results come about simply “by default” or can be seen as “unintended consequences…” In my opinion, this is insupportable – if you’re going to do something, do it right. While well intentioned, yet another attempt at eradicating poverty misses the most dire candidates (and in this case, encourages FECECAV to overlook them as well…I saw this with my own eyes when I told Daniel that I wanted to post ten 25,000CFA loans from Lavie. He waved me away saying it wasn’t worth it. After much persuasion he allowed me to do it, but 2 hours and 3,000CFA of internet time later, we had entered 10 new loans and hadn’t made a dent in the monthly limit…)
Unfortunately, the Kiva policies and processes that I tried to train people on in my first month here (when I was officially working as a fellow) have all but dissipated…it is incredibly difficult to maintain procedures and organized processes here, as a result of the constant need for improvisation. Kiva work becomes an even mightier task every time there is unreliable electricity and internet, a client isn’t available for a photograph because their uncle died and they are in Lomé for the week (let alone the fact that the loan officer took the time and energy to research his dossier to make sure it is in accord with nit-picky policies, and to go find the client in the first place – this is not as easy as you might think,) or a certain computer or won’t read a particular USB key or digital camera. The inventiveness and flexibility with technological equipment and information sharing I see here on a daily basis blows my mind. It’s the reality, it’s the only thing that works right now and it makes Kiva’s meticulous policies and procedures seem utterly absurd on the ground.
The thing that does seem to be working is the spreadsheet I made with all of the required information for a Kiva posting. It is very simple, can be filled out on the computer or by hand and encourages the loan officers to sit down with the photos they have taken as well as the dossiers for those clients and fill it out, simultaneously verifying the information. There is a box to list the number of the photo from the camera itself, in order to identify the client here in Kpalimé if the individual branches cannot download and rename the photos themselves. The process of downloading and renaming photos and bringing them to Kpalimé along with word documents of client dossiers generated directly from PERFECT is a long way off…that formula is truly another ball game and, while it is a fantastic and sustainable vision, relies too much on technology and a level of “orderliness” that just does not exist here. For the moment (until we bring them solar energy!!) if FECECAV can use the simplified documents and abridged version of the process that I have emphasized and re-emphasized and re-emphasized, to generate $31,000 from the site every month, I think we will all be happy.
I do worry about FECECAV’s success with Kiva in my absence…as much as I have tried to be hands off this month, I have largely managed the information gathering process, delegated business-description-writing tasks, re-sized photos and even helped with a few postings. I waited until about the 5th of the month to see if anyone was going to jumpstart the process for May and, when no one did, I got the ball rolling. If I hadn’t, there is a chance that they may have lost out this month, which is by far the worst outcome and I could never live with myself if, in the name of “independence and sustainability,” I didn’t help out. However, what is going to happen for the rest of the summer when I am not here?
Early on, it became apparent that there is no individual here in Kpalimé that can be solely responsible for managing and carrying out Kiva work – there is just no one with that kind of time. I have decided that I am going to continue to help them for the next few months from afar, to ease the transition into autonomous Kiva-ing. I can’t leave them in the lurch and will try to continue to remind Daniel at the end of each month to get people collecting info for the next month and am happy to also personally post some loans with my speedy internet connection in the States. This is what friends and partners are for, and I maintain my mission to help FECECAV in whatever capacity I can.
* * *
Later in the afternoon I had a rendezvous with the director of an NGO (who spotted me at FECECAV one day and asked to chat) whose insurmountable mission is to orient the mentality of Togo’s youth towards the idea that democracy and transparency, peace and equality, and education are fundamental human rights, indigenous to Africa, that must be restored. His intentions are honorable, and after initially balking at his idealism (shocking I know, coming from me of all people) I was won over by his ingenuity and optimism. He organizes “training camps” for Togolese youth to discuss, impart and educate on the values his NGO promotes. The first two camps were funded by a private Togolese benefactor. The third, based around the theme of “Good Citizenship,” is only partially funded and he obviously was hoping that I could help him out. I explained that I am starting my own project and am really stretched to the fundraising limit right now, but that I would try to find some contacts for him.
Every day another man asks me with pleading eyes if I can find someone in my country to sponsor his daughters. Every day another of my friends in Kpalimé suggests some scheme to export mangos or peanuts to sell at their inflated price in New York. With all of my heart and capacity, I want to help everyone here and it is hard to realize that one person can’t do it all, no matter how much hope rests on me. Eventually that will kill me…however, there is no reason I can’t occasionally help raise $1000 for a particularly impressive cause, send packages of clothes and toys a few times a year to kids in Kpalimé, help FECECAV when they need help with Kiva and launch SunPower Afrique…all at the same time…right?
Jules’ work as Chef of the Lavie caisse, of whichhe is incredibly proud, centers around providing tiny loans in the villages between Kpalimé and Adéta – Kpimé-Seva, known for its spectacular cascade, Lavie itself, where old men lounge under an enormous mango tree and petit-commerce somehow manages to eke out some meager existence and Akata, a sandy village that I swear has as many goats as it does people, all roaming about aimlessly…Jules beams when he shouts backwind to me on his moto, “Ici, c’est mon travail! Ils m’ont besoin!” (Here, this is my work! They need me!)
These are the bona fide African poor. In these villages a trip to Kpalimé is an annual and costly excursion…whose inhabitants sometimes never leave their dusty compounds and dismal mango stands except to forage in the bush for firewood, or to fill silver bowls with water at the pump and slowly slosh it back to their yards. Thus far, these villages are the only place in Togo that I felt a bit discouraged for these people. It was mostly in their reaction to me…the children were a more delighted, yovo-shreiking, giggling bunch than I have ever encountered…they literally followed me around the village in an ecstatic gaggle of jumbled ewe and toothy grins, squealing yovo! yovo! yovo! yovo! in unison until an old man (the most feared and revered member of these traditional communities) austerely cut off their parade and they tore themselves away from me in a somewhat-bashful-somewhat-frustrated retreat. While I was happy to snap their photo like a good yovo and wave and smile back at them, the fact that the only white people they ever see are those that speed by them in a commotion of dust and loud honking on their way to the next “tourist attraction” is incredibly sad. Everyone’s smiles were as wide and sincere as ever, but the lack of economic opportunity and stagnancy of their poverty was completely devastating…
There are exceptions of course. There are those that make the weekly trek into Kpalimé or Adéta to hawk goods at the marché rather than doze by the side of the road in hope that the occasional passerby might want to buy a tiny sack of arachides for 100CFA. There is also a man who has created a palm-roofed “factory” with 5 apprentices that, with their hands and bare feet, weave unique pagnes out of coarse thread (their weaving contraptions are fascinating.) But for the most part, these rural villages are static, sluggish and often forgotten. Their inhabitants are the poorest of the poor and, ironically but not surprisingly, are least able to benefit from microcredit – Kiva credit? Forget about it.
FECECAV has a tiny office in Lavie, an outpost of CECAV Avenir, with 2 employees, 2 rooms, 2 fans, and Jules at its helm. He is one of the most organized and proactive branch managers I have seen in action here and regrettably works on a computer that is so old and slow it can’t connect to a digital camera and a keyboard that is more often than not out of commission. As it is one of the smaller caisses, sort of by default and as a result of limited resources (not that I am justifying this by any means,) FECECAV doesn’t see upgrading his equipment as a priority. CECAV Avenir-Lavie does not generate as much revenue as other branches because of its own small size and, more importantly, the small size of its loans, which obviously yield less interest.
The petits crédits disbursed by CECAV Avenir-Lavie are a consequence of the type of people taking out these loans…the poorest clients who embody the real, intended impact of microfinance – a true MICRO loan, a starting point of a credit of $50 or less, for a client with everything to lose and no where to begin, destined to succeed little by little by little. I was struck by the genuine character of microfinance in Jules’ villages again and again, as he introduced me to clients who started out with loans as small as 10,000CFA ($25) and, after successfully paying it back, have now taken out $50 loans.
Tragically, these loans are the least desirable and profitable for an MFI, as it takes 50 of these miniature loans to accrue the same amount of interest as 2-3 larger loans – which would be given to someone with a larger capital guarantee or entrepreneurial experience. But don’t we have a social mission to try to also reach the poorest of the working poor? At the same time, how can it be worth it to an overstretched MFI working in a developing country to support clients that yield less of a profit in the short term? I see all sides of the equation and am unconvinced of a moral reconciliation of, on one hand, the immediacy of needs, cash-flow and entrepreneurship, and on the other, the long-term ethical benefits of exhaustedly providing tiny loans to the most desperate of the poor.
Additionally, and this is the point that upsets me, these loans are destined never to appear on the Kiva site. While FECECAV can sometimes justify privileging higher-interest loans, rich Americans cannot…
A major flaw in Kiva’s methodology is that they encourage (not necessarily intentionally) MFI to pass over these authentic micro-credits, because a) it is far too much work to post that many loans on the site (the current workload is painful enough) and b) the 0% interest rate will bring a larger monetary benefit to the MFI on a big loan. While financially this is a good thing for the MFI, it misses the ethical point of reaching the poorest of the poor. Which is Kiva aiming for? If it is the former, the social mission is greatly diminished – why not just give loans directly to the MFI, rather than make them do all of this work chasing down clients, taking photos, writing descriptions, and buying internet time? If you really want to give people a chance to “loan to the working poor,” you must make it possible to reach ALL of the working poor, the POOREST of the working poor, not just those that are most convenient…
I thought about whether it is ok to say that these results come about simply “by default” or can be seen as “unintended consequences…” In my opinion, this is insupportable – if you’re going to do something, do it right. While well intentioned, yet another attempt at eradicating poverty misses the most dire candidates (and in this case, encourages FECECAV to overlook them as well…I saw this with my own eyes when I told Daniel that I wanted to post ten 25,000CFA loans from Lavie. He waved me away saying it wasn’t worth it. After much persuasion he allowed me to do it, but 2 hours and 3,000CFA of internet time later, we had entered 10 new loans and hadn’t made a dent in the monthly limit…)
Unfortunately, the Kiva policies and processes that I tried to train people on in my first month here (when I was officially working as a fellow) have all but dissipated…it is incredibly difficult to maintain procedures and organized processes here, as a result of the constant need for improvisation. Kiva work becomes an even mightier task every time there is unreliable electricity and internet, a client isn’t available for a photograph because their uncle died and they are in Lomé for the week (let alone the fact that the loan officer took the time and energy to research his dossier to make sure it is in accord with nit-picky policies, and to go find the client in the first place – this is not as easy as you might think,) or a certain computer or won’t read a particular USB key or digital camera. The inventiveness and flexibility with technological equipment and information sharing I see here on a daily basis blows my mind. It’s the reality, it’s the only thing that works right now and it makes Kiva’s meticulous policies and procedures seem utterly absurd on the ground.
The thing that does seem to be working is the spreadsheet I made with all of the required information for a Kiva posting. It is very simple, can be filled out on the computer or by hand and encourages the loan officers to sit down with the photos they have taken as well as the dossiers for those clients and fill it out, simultaneously verifying the information. There is a box to list the number of the photo from the camera itself, in order to identify the client here in Kpalimé if the individual branches cannot download and rename the photos themselves. The process of downloading and renaming photos and bringing them to Kpalimé along with word documents of client dossiers generated directly from PERFECT is a long way off…that formula is truly another ball game and, while it is a fantastic and sustainable vision, relies too much on technology and a level of “orderliness” that just does not exist here. For the moment (until we bring them solar energy!!) if FECECAV can use the simplified documents and abridged version of the process that I have emphasized and re-emphasized and re-emphasized, to generate $31,000 from the site every month, I think we will all be happy.
I do worry about FECECAV’s success with Kiva in my absence…as much as I have tried to be hands off this month, I have largely managed the information gathering process, delegated business-description-writing tasks, re-sized photos and even helped with a few postings. I waited until about the 5th of the month to see if anyone was going to jumpstart the process for May and, when no one did, I got the ball rolling. If I hadn’t, there is a chance that they may have lost out this month, which is by far the worst outcome and I could never live with myself if, in the name of “independence and sustainability,” I didn’t help out. However, what is going to happen for the rest of the summer when I am not here?
Early on, it became apparent that there is no individual here in Kpalimé that can be solely responsible for managing and carrying out Kiva work – there is just no one with that kind of time. I have decided that I am going to continue to help them for the next few months from afar, to ease the transition into autonomous Kiva-ing. I can’t leave them in the lurch and will try to continue to remind Daniel at the end of each month to get people collecting info for the next month and am happy to also personally post some loans with my speedy internet connection in the States. This is what friends and partners are for, and I maintain my mission to help FECECAV in whatever capacity I can.
* * *
Later in the afternoon I had a rendezvous with the director of an NGO (who spotted me at FECECAV one day and asked to chat) whose insurmountable mission is to orient the mentality of Togo’s youth towards the idea that democracy and transparency, peace and equality, and education are fundamental human rights, indigenous to Africa, that must be restored. His intentions are honorable, and after initially balking at his idealism (shocking I know, coming from me of all people) I was won over by his ingenuity and optimism. He organizes “training camps” for Togolese youth to discuss, impart and educate on the values his NGO promotes. The first two camps were funded by a private Togolese benefactor. The third, based around the theme of “Good Citizenship,” is only partially funded and he obviously was hoping that I could help him out. I explained that I am starting my own project and am really stretched to the fundraising limit right now, but that I would try to find some contacts for him.
Every day another man asks me with pleading eyes if I can find someone in my country to sponsor his daughters. Every day another of my friends in Kpalimé suggests some scheme to export mangos or peanuts to sell at their inflated price in New York. With all of my heart and capacity, I want to help everyone here and it is hard to realize that one person can’t do it all, no matter how much hope rests on me. Eventually that will kill me…however, there is no reason I can’t occasionally help raise $1000 for a particularly impressive cause, send packages of clothes and toys a few times a year to kids in Kpalimé, help FECECAV when they need help with Kiva and launch SunPower Afrique…all at the same time…right?
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
13 Mai – Mister Jon, the CNM and SunPower Afrique
After an hour of struggling with 3 malfunctioning computers and 2 printers that were out of ink, I finally managed to frustratedly print my dossier to take to Lomé. We were meeting with the Exec. Dir. of the Comite Nationale de Microfinance (National Commitee for Microfinance, hereafter referred to as the CNM) in 2 hours, and it takes 3 hours to drive to the capital from Kpalimé…no one else seemed to mind, so I jumped into the car and silently fumed at the office equipment and lack of timeliness. For the first time in a while my patience wore thin…but after about 5 minutes of Togolese air blowing in my face on the route nationale, I was over it. But still nervous.
Our meeting with the CNM was an integral part of getting SunPower Afrique off the ground, and before going in I was surprised at how edgy I was… I wasn’t sure whether to expect some stuffy minister to blow me off, a friendly minister to smile at my idealism and tell me it will never work or somewhere in between. Instead, the reaction of the Director was more positive than I could have ever hoped for, and I am so excited right now I can barely put it into words…
We pulled up only a few minutes late (thank goodness for Yao’s blaring horn) to a freshly painted white and blue compound. PNUD (United Nations Development Program, UNDP, in French) was painted right next to “Strategie Nationale de Microfinance” which came as a total surprise to me…I soon figured out why…
Inside the walls were a series of immaculate blue and white cottages, each with at least 2 air conditioning units humming outside. We were ushered into one of the cottages and I was immediately greeted by a slam of frigid air that I have not felt anywhere on this continent since my arrival – not in the airport, not in any hotel, even in Accra…the sweaty clamminess that I have not been able to shake for 2 and half months evaporated into thin air and I literally almost cried out in surprise…so this is where all the money UNDP sends to Togo’s microfinance institutions goes – yet another fantastic example of how little accountability international organizations (particularly the UN) have for the allocation of their funding. But it’s ok, member states and secretariat directors can sleep at night with clear consciences, knowing that they have sent loads of money to that poor, tiny West African country…its not their problem that they’re turning their back to corruption and reinforcing state complicity in the cycle of poverty, right?
Jacques, the Director of PASNAM, the committee in charge of implementing the Strategie Nationale and a state organ of the CNM, shook our hands with a smile and asked us to wait for him in his office. We walked across the courtyard again into a larger room that was full of tables and chairs in a classroom-style configuration. When Jacques came in a few minutes later we settled ourselves in the center of the room and began to chat.
Jacques was incredibly friendly and while we of course had to indulge in the usual formalities, greetings, etc. it was much less forced and superfluous than normal procedures…I am not sure if this was because of Jacques, who was laid back and pleasant, because of my and Dad’s style or because Daniel mostly kept his mouth shut. Daniel actually let me do most of the talking, and once I got started, my usual confidence and verbosity took over and I had to remind myself to let others get a word in edgewise.
I explained our project and our vision, and Jacques was incredibly enthusiastic to it (and to the fact that I was an American that spoke such good French, haha.) Moreso than I had ever thought was possible. I truly thought that he would be more skeptical – of another yovo coming in with an idea for an NGO and an optimistic picture for Togo’s development – unconvinced of our sincerity first of all, but moreso of the mere viability of another development project. But this is the difference with our project for the introduction of solar energy on a large scale in Togo – it just makes sense. After seeing the numbers, talking about job creation and economic growth…his enthusiasm grew.
Dad’s expertise and practical mentality towards the efficiency of solar energy and conservation are invaluable and spectacular. I tend to be ambiguous and vague in my idealism, and he has totally grounded me and the vision of this project. In addition, he has brought some essential points to my concept paper in regard to long-term changes to Togo’s economy through the creation of jobs along the supply chain and training a workforce to install and maintain the photovoltaic systems. Just having him next to me this morning made me feel so much more comfortable and credible – I have a real expert here at my side. I have felt this way at each caisse we have visited too. He knows exactly what to measure, where to look (and when to look under it) and which questions to ask (in English and then I translate.) He is impressive and I could not do this without him.
Dad interjected here and there throughout the meeting to make sure I was emphasizing certain points (mainly the creation of jobs and the long-term environmental, financial and societal benefits of jumpstarting a solar economy) and I highlighted my enthusiasm for Togo, our experience with solar in the states and certain points in the dossier. At the end of our meeting, Jacques was beaming. He said that we have truly come to Togo at the perfect time and with the perfect project, and that he is going to immediately talk to Fedy, the president of both the CNM, APIM and FUCEC (not sure how I feel about the fact that he is president of all three…)
This is really going to happen…
If we look at this project like a piece of dry, unyielding land here in Togo that must, for the sake of the health and needs of my family, yield a mountain of fruit, the precious seeds were planted today…the seeds that I pored over, obsessed about, examined and re-examined for the past month or longer…I have burnt my field to the ground, commenced to weed it and scour it, pulling out all the rocks and roots, raking and hoeing the soil with a machete to prepare it for planting…researching crop rotations, insecticides and agricultural products…and today the seeds were dropped in and fingers crossed. There is a long, long, difficult way to go. But there is no turning back now, and I must pray for rain and tend my crops with diligence and care. Or my field will be lost, and my livelihood with it…
Over the past week and a half, together with Yao and various CECAV employees, Dad and I visited nearly all of the FECECAV caisses. We measured awnings and interior spaces, counted lightbulbs and projected numbers of computers, fans and printers, recorded roof types and south-facing facades. With the data we collected, we are now ready to build a business plan with real numbers and real timelines.
We exhausted ourselves, which I didn’t realize until we had managed to get Dad across the border into Ghana (which is no easy feat and, after two nightmarish border crossings, if I ever see one of those chartreuse Ghanaian government uniforms again I am going to scream and run in the other direction) and I came back to Petit Suisse and noticed that Dad wasn’t sitting on the front porch in the plastic chair chatting with Saf, or dozing with a book in his lap. I didn’t know exactly what to do with myself, until I realized how tired I was…
It was amazing having Dad here, despite the difficult moments in which I realized that no matter how close someone is to me and how badly I want them to understand, my personal experience and emotional attachment to this place is something I will never be able to explain.
We Costanzas are just not normal yovos, and I have always known where I got it from. Dad’s eccentricity was vibrant and animated here, where he quickly made friends with everyone due to his openness and amusing nature. Nana was with us every minute, every breath, every smile, every step in the gritty, red earth. There is also now an abundance of SunPower Builders hats and t-shirts being worn with pride around Kpalimé :)
My friend Hypo says that now I can “put FECECAV in my pocket,” which he said was not merely because I have seen so many of its offices, but because I care about it so much, have seen its strengths and weaknesses inside and out and have truly integrated myself into it …the thought of leaving here in 3 weeks makes my stomach churn. If I thought my adjustment in coming here was difficult, I don’t know what I am going to do when I come back…the only reassurance I can find is in knowing that my sejour with Togo is far from over.
An invigorated sense of community, love and geography has descended into my mind, creating a spectacular ruckus before ultimately resolving itself. The bond I have formed with the people and atmosphere of this place has stimulated and motivated my very existence. My life and future have been forever changed, and I am genuinely bilingual now, in more ways than pure language acquisition...if any of that makes a bit of sense…haha…
All my love,
K
Our meeting with the CNM was an integral part of getting SunPower Afrique off the ground, and before going in I was surprised at how edgy I was… I wasn’t sure whether to expect some stuffy minister to blow me off, a friendly minister to smile at my idealism and tell me it will never work or somewhere in between. Instead, the reaction of the Director was more positive than I could have ever hoped for, and I am so excited right now I can barely put it into words…
We pulled up only a few minutes late (thank goodness for Yao’s blaring horn) to a freshly painted white and blue compound. PNUD (United Nations Development Program, UNDP, in French) was painted right next to “Strategie Nationale de Microfinance” which came as a total surprise to me…I soon figured out why…
Inside the walls were a series of immaculate blue and white cottages, each with at least 2 air conditioning units humming outside. We were ushered into one of the cottages and I was immediately greeted by a slam of frigid air that I have not felt anywhere on this continent since my arrival – not in the airport, not in any hotel, even in Accra…the sweaty clamminess that I have not been able to shake for 2 and half months evaporated into thin air and I literally almost cried out in surprise…so this is where all the money UNDP sends to Togo’s microfinance institutions goes – yet another fantastic example of how little accountability international organizations (particularly the UN) have for the allocation of their funding. But it’s ok, member states and secretariat directors can sleep at night with clear consciences, knowing that they have sent loads of money to that poor, tiny West African country…its not their problem that they’re turning their back to corruption and reinforcing state complicity in the cycle of poverty, right?
Jacques, the Director of PASNAM, the committee in charge of implementing the Strategie Nationale and a state organ of the CNM, shook our hands with a smile and asked us to wait for him in his office. We walked across the courtyard again into a larger room that was full of tables and chairs in a classroom-style configuration. When Jacques came in a few minutes later we settled ourselves in the center of the room and began to chat.
Jacques was incredibly friendly and while we of course had to indulge in the usual formalities, greetings, etc. it was much less forced and superfluous than normal procedures…I am not sure if this was because of Jacques, who was laid back and pleasant, because of my and Dad’s style or because Daniel mostly kept his mouth shut. Daniel actually let me do most of the talking, and once I got started, my usual confidence and verbosity took over and I had to remind myself to let others get a word in edgewise.
I explained our project and our vision, and Jacques was incredibly enthusiastic to it (and to the fact that I was an American that spoke such good French, haha.) Moreso than I had ever thought was possible. I truly thought that he would be more skeptical – of another yovo coming in with an idea for an NGO and an optimistic picture for Togo’s development – unconvinced of our sincerity first of all, but moreso of the mere viability of another development project. But this is the difference with our project for the introduction of solar energy on a large scale in Togo – it just makes sense. After seeing the numbers, talking about job creation and economic growth…his enthusiasm grew.
Dad’s expertise and practical mentality towards the efficiency of solar energy and conservation are invaluable and spectacular. I tend to be ambiguous and vague in my idealism, and he has totally grounded me and the vision of this project. In addition, he has brought some essential points to my concept paper in regard to long-term changes to Togo’s economy through the creation of jobs along the supply chain and training a workforce to install and maintain the photovoltaic systems. Just having him next to me this morning made me feel so much more comfortable and credible – I have a real expert here at my side. I have felt this way at each caisse we have visited too. He knows exactly what to measure, where to look (and when to look under it) and which questions to ask (in English and then I translate.) He is impressive and I could not do this without him.
Dad interjected here and there throughout the meeting to make sure I was emphasizing certain points (mainly the creation of jobs and the long-term environmental, financial and societal benefits of jumpstarting a solar economy) and I highlighted my enthusiasm for Togo, our experience with solar in the states and certain points in the dossier. At the end of our meeting, Jacques was beaming. He said that we have truly come to Togo at the perfect time and with the perfect project, and that he is going to immediately talk to Fedy, the president of both the CNM, APIM and FUCEC (not sure how I feel about the fact that he is president of all three…)
This is really going to happen…
If we look at this project like a piece of dry, unyielding land here in Togo that must, for the sake of the health and needs of my family, yield a mountain of fruit, the precious seeds were planted today…the seeds that I pored over, obsessed about, examined and re-examined for the past month or longer…I have burnt my field to the ground, commenced to weed it and scour it, pulling out all the rocks and roots, raking and hoeing the soil with a machete to prepare it for planting…researching crop rotations, insecticides and agricultural products…and today the seeds were dropped in and fingers crossed. There is a long, long, difficult way to go. But there is no turning back now, and I must pray for rain and tend my crops with diligence and care. Or my field will be lost, and my livelihood with it…
Over the past week and a half, together with Yao and various CECAV employees, Dad and I visited nearly all of the FECECAV caisses. We measured awnings and interior spaces, counted lightbulbs and projected numbers of computers, fans and printers, recorded roof types and south-facing facades. With the data we collected, we are now ready to build a business plan with real numbers and real timelines.
We exhausted ourselves, which I didn’t realize until we had managed to get Dad across the border into Ghana (which is no easy feat and, after two nightmarish border crossings, if I ever see one of those chartreuse Ghanaian government uniforms again I am going to scream and run in the other direction) and I came back to Petit Suisse and noticed that Dad wasn’t sitting on the front porch in the plastic chair chatting with Saf, or dozing with a book in his lap. I didn’t know exactly what to do with myself, until I realized how tired I was…
It was amazing having Dad here, despite the difficult moments in which I realized that no matter how close someone is to me and how badly I want them to understand, my personal experience and emotional attachment to this place is something I will never be able to explain.
We Costanzas are just not normal yovos, and I have always known where I got it from. Dad’s eccentricity was vibrant and animated here, where he quickly made friends with everyone due to his openness and amusing nature. Nana was with us every minute, every breath, every smile, every step in the gritty, red earth. There is also now an abundance of SunPower Builders hats and t-shirts being worn with pride around Kpalimé :)
My friend Hypo says that now I can “put FECECAV in my pocket,” which he said was not merely because I have seen so many of its offices, but because I care about it so much, have seen its strengths and weaknesses inside and out and have truly integrated myself into it …the thought of leaving here in 3 weeks makes my stomach churn. If I thought my adjustment in coming here was difficult, I don’t know what I am going to do when I come back…the only reassurance I can find is in knowing that my sejour with Togo is far from over.
An invigorated sense of community, love and geography has descended into my mind, creating a spectacular ruckus before ultimately resolving itself. The bond I have formed with the people and atmosphere of this place has stimulated and motivated my very existence. My life and future have been forever changed, and I am genuinely bilingual now, in more ways than pure language acquisition...if any of that makes a bit of sense…haha…
All my love,
K
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
22 Avril - Français à la Togolais
My French is completely different than it was when I arrived here…language is a fascinating thing. My mom noticed it the first time she heard me say Merci to someone on the street while we were talking on the phone, about 2 weeks after my arrival. She gasped, saying Kira! Did you just roll the “r” in Merci?!
I quickly realized that no one could understand me when I swallowed and hacked out my Parisian/Quebecoise sounding R’s and rounded out the ends of my biens and bonjours. Much worse, people thought I was French! This is one of the biggest insults I can receive here, which I also quickly realized…when people find out I am American and not French (or Belgian or Swiss or another French-speaking, European country) they are thrilled. They are also always shocked that I speak French, which makes total sense, considering that Americans aren’t the world’s most renowned for embracing foreign cultures, particularly languages (must we remember Pat’s Steaks…)
The hesitation-bordering-on-full-out-disdain surrounding Les Françaises is partially due to the horrific legacy of colonialism, but more (as with most European countries) a result of their utter lack of effective development assistance and general interaction with modern Togo. However (and I have really heard this kind of praise from so many people here) when people start to go on and on about how wonderful Amerique is and all we do for Africa I can help but wonder…Don’t they remember slavery?! It really shows the desperation and trusting optimism for anyone who is here to help them…which makes me a bit sad, but at the same time does make me a bit more confident in the real impact of my country’s work around the world. IPA and my work at the UN jaded me a bit about the US’s contributions to the World Food Programme, USAID, African Development Banks, and the most well known international NGOs, which, for all of their shortcomings and disastrous faults, are there, when everyone else is gone, to care for the world’s most desperate populations. Sure, China provides instant gratification in the form of sandelettes and shiny cellphones, but at what cost? And what about sustainability? If there is no cost-benefit analysis that exists in their favor, there is no way they will go on. And most European countries can’t say that they have done either!
I’d like to think that what makes us different is our attitude, and that Americans, like me, have grown up in a culture of diversity and globalization, as opposed to the rampant xenophobia and racism that clouds so much of Europe’s much more recent past…but really, what about the lynchings that still go on in the Southern US? What about the silent and appalling segregation of our urban centers and schools? What about the fact that our economy would collapse in a day if it weren’t for illegal immigrants and Texans and (even East Coast Republicans!) still want to build a 20-foot-high wall to keep those damned Mexicans out…so maybe it is just some of us. But here in Togo, I have seen the impact of a few, and it makes me a little bit more content.
But back to our discussion of language, a much less loaded topic…or is it…
Influenced by Ewe, Kabye and other indigenous languages, Togolese French just sounds so cool (I know that isn’t so eloquently put, but I have no better words for it.) The West African accent, which I have completely taken on, is characterized mostly by the rolling of the “r’s” and by the tonal nuances taken from Ewe. Conversation is highlighted by woops and high-pitched sighs that signify excitement, surprise or frustration and a distinctive clicking in the back of the throat to express annoyance or anger (which is often substituted for a lip smack that sounds like it has been sucked back into the mouth.) When you are laughing too hard you draw out the 2 syllables “ah-WO!” while grabbing your burning abs.
The usage of French here very much reflects West African lifestyle and culture, manifested in commonly used phrases and slang. European/Conventional French sounds totally out of place here and I half recoil/half giggle when yovos use adjectives like “sympa” (nice) and “super!” and verb phrases like “faire le footing” (to go for a run.)
I have created a little dictionary below, of the most common ones, and I hope you all get as much of a kick out of it as I did making it :)
(the things I sometimes resort to when I have nothing to do and no electricity, haha…)
1. Ça va aller/ Ça ira
Literal translation: It is going to go/it will go
Meaning: This too shall pass; It will be ok
Usage: To provide comfort, strength and optimism through adversity; Any time from a cut on your finger, to a lack of rain, to a death in the family or a bad bout of palu, to generally feeling frustrated or disappointed; often used in conjunction with “Du Courage” (see below) This phrase is listed as number 1 for a reason, I hear it 800 times a day. I really see this phrase as a microcosm of life and reality in Togo – shit happens, but we’ll get through it, we always do. It is both beautiful and tragic.
2. Ou bien?
Literal translation: Or good/well
Meaning: Right? Don’t you agree?
Usage: Posed as a question and similar to the Canadian “eh,” this useful little phrase is often added to the end of a sentence to gauge consensus and others’ opinions of what you have just said. It is also used in reverse, as a response if you really agree with someone (“I know, right!?”) Robert, le Directeur d’Audit et Controle, is a big fan of throwing an “ou bien” at the end of his biggest points during trainings and presentations, to make sure that everyone understands his statement and/or is paying attention. People often use this phrase with me when saying (sometimes with a big grin, sometimes in utter seriousness,) “You’re going to leave that laptop with me when you leave! Ou bien?”
3. Il faut aller et revenir (Ewe : MaheMAva)
Literal translation: You must go and return
Meaning: Go so that you can come back!
Usage: Whenever anyone leaves in the morning, goes out to run and errand or is in a hurry to get somewhere. I put this one in Ewe too because it was one of the most important phrases I learned here. It is a striking testament to how people enjoy each others’ company and wish them well, so that they can return safely home (which is also sad, because life is hard, and simply making it through the day and coming home to your family can sometimes be difficult.) Daniel’s wife always says this to me in the morning when I scurry past the boutique, trying to get to work on time amidst the flurry of greetings.
4. Du courage
Literal translation: Of courage
Meaning: Be strong! You’ll get through it.
Usage: Often employed as a little joke when people complain unnecessarily about the heat or a mosquito bite (usually directed at me…haha,) “Du Courage” is similar to “ça va aller,” but is used more specifically to express understanding of suffering and to provide, literally, courage, strength and endurance. This is used to encourage someone with a tough job (aka a woman who has to walk 5 miles into town every day from her village with a huge bucket of tomatoes on her head, a baby tied to her back and 2 toddlers trailing behind her,) whose child is sick or whose entire livelihood has just been destroyed in a bush fire.
5. On es là?/Tu es là ?
Literal translation : One is/You are there ?
Meaning: Are you ok? Is everything good?
Usage: Anytime someone looks confused, troubled, tired or otherwise spacey; often used when it is particularly hot, the electricity has been out for hours, or someone has made a long trip. This phrase is also a good example of the West African use of “on” (one,) which is more often than not used in place of “je” (I) or “tu” (you.) I have started doing this a lot too – instead of saying “Je vais manger” (I am going to eat,) I’ll say “On va manger” (One will eat.) As I said, language is a fascinating thing…
6. Doucement
Literal translation: Carefully
Meaning: Be careful/Go carefully
Usage: Whenever someone revs their moto too agressively, trips, bumps into their desk or falls and breaks their leg (note that there is no discerning between the pains involved with these things…one of the peace corps girls went on about this angrily, saying how it drives her crazy that when she is in pain from stubbing her toe the Togolese will simply say, “Oh hunny, doucement!”) I think it is hilarious. Needless to say, people say this to me numerous times a day, in my graceful state, tripping over cords and tree roots, knocking over chairs and struggling with the FECECAV gate. I’m sure you’ll all love this, and I will never live it down, but due to my constant poise and elegance, Athanase has taken to calling me “Gracia.”
7. Bonsoir
Literal translation: Good evening
Meaning: Good “afternoon”
Usage: Anytime after 11am. In Kpalimé, if it is possible that you have already eaten your midday repas or have just said Bonjour too many times already, it is perfectly legitimate to start saying Bonsoir. I was initially very confused by this phenomenon, but now have started doing it myself, shocking every European I meet, greeting them with a Bonsoir! at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The Togolese nature of this trend is also apparent in its use in the children’s song, “Yovo yovo bonsoir! Cava bien? Merci!” that they chant in a sing-songy, nursery rhyme type melody anytime I walk past – even if it is 8am.
The Ewe that I have learned is a testament to not only how we quickly learn “useful phrases” in other languages (just like the little guides found in Barnes and Noble,) but also to what these phrases are in Ewe and what it says about the culture here. Meeting someone, seeing someone for the first time in the morning and saying goodbye for the evening are long-winded, As I have already mentioned (in reference to the African businessmen,) conversations are characterized by incredibly long introductions – “Good morning Director, how are you? Did you sleep well? And you health? How was the voyage?” (I now know how to say all of these things, as well as their responses, and absolutely love the looks on peoples’ faces when I am able to have a petit conversation with them in Ewe.)
This definitely says something about Togolese relationships, in that people do care about each other in a different way here – can you see anyone on the subway in New York, even if I knew them well, asking me every morning how I slept the night before? On a different note, it also indicates the fact that everyone cultivates relationships in a careful and calculated manner. Everyone knows everything about everyone else and often wants or expects something from everyone else (often because no one has very much…)
I have really enjoyed being immersed such a captivating linguistic environment, and am really going to miss it…I am sure that when I come back I am going to be surprised by something and let out a swooping ah-WO! and everyone is going to look at me like I am a martian…
I quickly realized that no one could understand me when I swallowed and hacked out my Parisian/Quebecoise sounding R’s and rounded out the ends of my biens and bonjours. Much worse, people thought I was French! This is one of the biggest insults I can receive here, which I also quickly realized…when people find out I am American and not French (or Belgian or Swiss or another French-speaking, European country) they are thrilled. They are also always shocked that I speak French, which makes total sense, considering that Americans aren’t the world’s most renowned for embracing foreign cultures, particularly languages (must we remember Pat’s Steaks…)
The hesitation-bordering-on-full-out-disdain surrounding Les Françaises is partially due to the horrific legacy of colonialism, but more (as with most European countries) a result of their utter lack of effective development assistance and general interaction with modern Togo. However (and I have really heard this kind of praise from so many people here) when people start to go on and on about how wonderful Amerique is and all we do for Africa I can help but wonder…Don’t they remember slavery?! It really shows the desperation and trusting optimism for anyone who is here to help them…which makes me a bit sad, but at the same time does make me a bit more confident in the real impact of my country’s work around the world. IPA and my work at the UN jaded me a bit about the US’s contributions to the World Food Programme, USAID, African Development Banks, and the most well known international NGOs, which, for all of their shortcomings and disastrous faults, are there, when everyone else is gone, to care for the world’s most desperate populations. Sure, China provides instant gratification in the form of sandelettes and shiny cellphones, but at what cost? And what about sustainability? If there is no cost-benefit analysis that exists in their favor, there is no way they will go on. And most European countries can’t say that they have done either!
I’d like to think that what makes us different is our attitude, and that Americans, like me, have grown up in a culture of diversity and globalization, as opposed to the rampant xenophobia and racism that clouds so much of Europe’s much more recent past…but really, what about the lynchings that still go on in the Southern US? What about the silent and appalling segregation of our urban centers and schools? What about the fact that our economy would collapse in a day if it weren’t for illegal immigrants and Texans and (even East Coast Republicans!) still want to build a 20-foot-high wall to keep those damned Mexicans out…so maybe it is just some of us. But here in Togo, I have seen the impact of a few, and it makes me a little bit more content.
But back to our discussion of language, a much less loaded topic…or is it…
Influenced by Ewe, Kabye and other indigenous languages, Togolese French just sounds so cool (I know that isn’t so eloquently put, but I have no better words for it.) The West African accent, which I have completely taken on, is characterized mostly by the rolling of the “r’s” and by the tonal nuances taken from Ewe. Conversation is highlighted by woops and high-pitched sighs that signify excitement, surprise or frustration and a distinctive clicking in the back of the throat to express annoyance or anger (which is often substituted for a lip smack that sounds like it has been sucked back into the mouth.) When you are laughing too hard you draw out the 2 syllables “ah-WO!” while grabbing your burning abs.
The usage of French here very much reflects West African lifestyle and culture, manifested in commonly used phrases and slang. European/Conventional French sounds totally out of place here and I half recoil/half giggle when yovos use adjectives like “sympa” (nice) and “super!” and verb phrases like “faire le footing” (to go for a run.)
I have created a little dictionary below, of the most common ones, and I hope you all get as much of a kick out of it as I did making it :)
(the things I sometimes resort to when I have nothing to do and no electricity, haha…)
1. Ça va aller/ Ça ira
Literal translation: It is going to go/it will go
Meaning: This too shall pass; It will be ok
Usage: To provide comfort, strength and optimism through adversity; Any time from a cut on your finger, to a lack of rain, to a death in the family or a bad bout of palu, to generally feeling frustrated or disappointed; often used in conjunction with “Du Courage” (see below) This phrase is listed as number 1 for a reason, I hear it 800 times a day. I really see this phrase as a microcosm of life and reality in Togo – shit happens, but we’ll get through it, we always do. It is both beautiful and tragic.
2. Ou bien?
Literal translation: Or good/well
Meaning: Right? Don’t you agree?
Usage: Posed as a question and similar to the Canadian “eh,” this useful little phrase is often added to the end of a sentence to gauge consensus and others’ opinions of what you have just said. It is also used in reverse, as a response if you really agree with someone (“I know, right!?”) Robert, le Directeur d’Audit et Controle, is a big fan of throwing an “ou bien” at the end of his biggest points during trainings and presentations, to make sure that everyone understands his statement and/or is paying attention. People often use this phrase with me when saying (sometimes with a big grin, sometimes in utter seriousness,) “You’re going to leave that laptop with me when you leave! Ou bien?”
3. Il faut aller et revenir (Ewe : MaheMAva)
Literal translation: You must go and return
Meaning: Go so that you can come back!
Usage: Whenever anyone leaves in the morning, goes out to run and errand or is in a hurry to get somewhere. I put this one in Ewe too because it was one of the most important phrases I learned here. It is a striking testament to how people enjoy each others’ company and wish them well, so that they can return safely home (which is also sad, because life is hard, and simply making it through the day and coming home to your family can sometimes be difficult.) Daniel’s wife always says this to me in the morning when I scurry past the boutique, trying to get to work on time amidst the flurry of greetings.
4. Du courage
Literal translation: Of courage
Meaning: Be strong! You’ll get through it.
Usage: Often employed as a little joke when people complain unnecessarily about the heat or a mosquito bite (usually directed at me…haha,) “Du Courage” is similar to “ça va aller,” but is used more specifically to express understanding of suffering and to provide, literally, courage, strength and endurance. This is used to encourage someone with a tough job (aka a woman who has to walk 5 miles into town every day from her village with a huge bucket of tomatoes on her head, a baby tied to her back and 2 toddlers trailing behind her,) whose child is sick or whose entire livelihood has just been destroyed in a bush fire.
5. On es là?/Tu es là ?
Literal translation : One is/You are there ?
Meaning: Are you ok? Is everything good?
Usage: Anytime someone looks confused, troubled, tired or otherwise spacey; often used when it is particularly hot, the electricity has been out for hours, or someone has made a long trip. This phrase is also a good example of the West African use of “on” (one,) which is more often than not used in place of “je” (I) or “tu” (you.) I have started doing this a lot too – instead of saying “Je vais manger” (I am going to eat,) I’ll say “On va manger” (One will eat.) As I said, language is a fascinating thing…
6. Doucement
Literal translation: Carefully
Meaning: Be careful/Go carefully
Usage: Whenever someone revs their moto too agressively, trips, bumps into their desk or falls and breaks their leg (note that there is no discerning between the pains involved with these things…one of the peace corps girls went on about this angrily, saying how it drives her crazy that when she is in pain from stubbing her toe the Togolese will simply say, “Oh hunny, doucement!”) I think it is hilarious. Needless to say, people say this to me numerous times a day, in my graceful state, tripping over cords and tree roots, knocking over chairs and struggling with the FECECAV gate. I’m sure you’ll all love this, and I will never live it down, but due to my constant poise and elegance, Athanase has taken to calling me “Gracia.”
7. Bonsoir
Literal translation: Good evening
Meaning: Good “afternoon”
Usage: Anytime after 11am. In Kpalimé, if it is possible that you have already eaten your midday repas or have just said Bonjour too many times already, it is perfectly legitimate to start saying Bonsoir. I was initially very confused by this phenomenon, but now have started doing it myself, shocking every European I meet, greeting them with a Bonsoir! at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The Togolese nature of this trend is also apparent in its use in the children’s song, “Yovo yovo bonsoir! Cava bien? Merci!” that they chant in a sing-songy, nursery rhyme type melody anytime I walk past – even if it is 8am.
The Ewe that I have learned is a testament to not only how we quickly learn “useful phrases” in other languages (just like the little guides found in Barnes and Noble,) but also to what these phrases are in Ewe and what it says about the culture here. Meeting someone, seeing someone for the first time in the morning and saying goodbye for the evening are long-winded, As I have already mentioned (in reference to the African businessmen,) conversations are characterized by incredibly long introductions – “Good morning Director, how are you? Did you sleep well? And you health? How was the voyage?” (I now know how to say all of these things, as well as their responses, and absolutely love the looks on peoples’ faces when I am able to have a petit conversation with them in Ewe.)
This definitely says something about Togolese relationships, in that people do care about each other in a different way here – can you see anyone on the subway in New York, even if I knew them well, asking me every morning how I slept the night before? On a different note, it also indicates the fact that everyone cultivates relationships in a careful and calculated manner. Everyone knows everything about everyone else and often wants or expects something from everyone else (often because no one has very much…)
I have really enjoyed being immersed such a captivating linguistic environment, and am really going to miss it…I am sure that when I come back I am going to be surprised by something and let out a swooping ah-WO! and everyone is going to look at me like I am a martian…
Thursday, April 17, 2008
16 Avril – Assemblés Générales and Solar Systems
So since I haven’t written a blog in a while this is seriously long…Mom, I know you’re the only one who will make it to the bottom, haha, but thanks to all who are still checking in here! I love sharing all of this with you and I hope that one day you’ll get through it.
We are in the midst of the sequence of annual Assemblés Générales. There are 5 scheduled in the next 3 weeks (what luck!) Les Assemblés Générales are the crux of a Microfinance Co-op like FECECAV. They represent the basic and moral principles on which the organization itself is built upon, and are the most significant event in each bureau’s annual calendar. In literature and theory about Microfinance, AG’s and the like are alluded to as almost mythic presentations of the ideology of Microfinance and showcases of the doctrines of the Cooperatif. FECECAV’s organizational structure and credibility as a Social Business relies on the fact that the borrowers themselves are the patrons of the organization. FECECAV belongs to its clients. FECECAV exists because they make it work. The Assemblé Générale is an annual gathering for all of the clients of each FECECAV caisse.
I will now take a moment to comment on FECECAV’s eleven branches – if only on their names, because I think they are so symbolic. Literally. Each caisse is called CECAV (Caisses d’Epargne et de Crédit des Associations Villageoises, Loan and Credit Banks of Village Associations – it makes much more sense in French, but you get the idea) and the “FE” at the beginning of the organization’s formal name, “Faitiére des Entités,” (literally, the maker of entities) is employed to group all of the CECAVs together. Finally, I understand this acronym. But the English version just doesn’t capture it…
Each CECAV is accompanied by a word, in French or Ewe or a mélange of both, that intensely exemplifies the essence of FECECAV’s impact and its mission. Once again, the English translations won’t fully portray it, but here it goes:
• CECAV Avenir (The Future) – Kpalimé
• CECAV Espoir (Hope) – Aventonou
• CECAV Duanenyo (La village/localité ou tout va bien; The town/place where all is good) – Danyi
• CECAV Nevame (Ca soit accompli; It will be accomplished) – Womé
• CECAV Fraternité (Brotherhood) – Lomé
• CECAV Fidelité (Fidelity) – Adéta
• CECAV Solidarité (Solidarity) – Amoussokopé
• CECAV Enyo (C’est bon ; All is good) – Atakpamé
• CECAV Yayra (Bénédiction ; Benediction/Blessing/Approval) – Lomé
• CECAV La Grace (Grace) – Assahoun
• CECAV Abwe (Enyo; C’est bon; All is Good) – Badou
Interestingly, there is a complicated and hidden dynamic underlying the relations between these offices due to the laws surrounding mutuels in Togo. The government set up a system of regulations to govern these institutions, which have multiple branches and offer both loans services and savings accounts. In theory, these regulations work in the interest of protecting clients’ savings. In reality it does not necessarily endorse or enforce these kinds of good practices and instead acts as serious obstacle to efficient intra-organizational collaboration and functionality. Each branch of FECECAV is, by law, an autonomous institution that could at any time choose to separate from the larger structure and become its own institution. Not only does this create a nightmare for centralization of data and other practical concerns, it generates a vacuum of power, complex battles for influence and ambiguous as well as superfluous roles within FECECAV. The very idea of authority becomes convoluted. Each Chef d’Agence (General Manager/Branch President) wields significant clout, as do his clients. Once again a great idea, in theory.
Daniel is the “CEO” (“DG” as they call him, Directeur Général) and should have the ultimate command of all the other branches, if only for efficiency’s sake! In theory, he does, but the national laws restrict his ability to organize and implement. Imagine the CEO of Chase Bank being at the mercy of every General Manager and his flock of account holders and having to compromise with them on every policy and process change…this is one of the big reasons why things take so long here sometimes…and why things get watered down, simplified or simply not done...this is also why each branch works towards its own objectives and targets without much regard for the general, far-reaching strategy of FECECAV as an entity. This is not sustainable…
It also makes Kiva work hard, as it is difficult for Daniel to implement new processes for centralizing data and use of IT systems throughout the FECECAV branches, and importantly, to choose which branches will submit loans to the site. All of the Chefs d’Agence are in a covert battle with each other to receive the next donated camera and the opportunity to post loans on the Kiva site, as the free money obviously improves their numbers. This kind of intra-organizational competition in a Microcredit Bank seems very dangerous to me…
But back to the Assemblé Générales…Daniel explained their essence to me in detail a few weeks ago when he invited me to attend, and asked if I would be willing to speak for 2-3 minutes (I elatedly accepted of course.) The first was last week, in the mountain village of Danyi.
It works like this – FECECAV convokes all of the clients of Danyi’s Bureau, Duanenyo, through word of mouth, personal invitations, radio and press. Daniel explained to me that clients’ attendance at the AG’s is their right, and FECECAV makes every effort to ensure that they are informed. It is not obligatory of course. The purpose of the Assemblé is, in a nutshell, to present the rapports (financial and otherwise) of 2007, to present the workplan for 2008, to have elections for new leaders and to generally celebrate the notion of clients as proprietors and the successes of their thriving microfinance organization. The meeting itself is followed by a lunch, complete with music and dancing, Fufu, Flags and Castels and much revelry.
The elections take place to vote in new presidents. Each caisse has 5 presidents that serve for 3 years. The presidents, clients themselves of course, serve as liaisons between the CECAV staff and the rest of the clients. They are leaders and advocates for the clients and work in tandem between the functions of the bureau and clients’ daily lives in order to implement developments, resolve issues and, by their mere existence, ensure accountability. It is an interesting and fundamentally democratic role – both a patron and a client, elected by both patrons and the clients, to serve both patrons and clients (which all essentially embody the same function, work towards the same goals and are held to the same obligations and regulations – underlined by mutual respect, cooperation and commitment.) The presidents are selected for their performance with their own businesses, conscientiousness and responsibility, and of course their personality. Each president serves for 3 years and elections and terms are staggered so that only 2 presidents can ever leave at the same time, ensuring that knowledge and experience will be left behind, but that there is a constant flow of new blood and invigoration.
Unfortunately, the irony of it all is that these presidents, and their respective boards, are not the most qualified, nor engaged, to be deemed “advisors” or “board members” in any true sense of the word(s)...after spending enough time with the president of the board of CECAV Avenir, I am not convinced that she understands anything beyond the prestige she has gained in her community by having a stamp made with her name on it. It is a shame that it is more symbolic than anything else…because its very existence is essential and the theory behind it is better than almost any organizational structure in the developed world – even more beautiful because it embodies the nature of community that defines this place.
On the morning of the AG, at 6:45am, proudly wearing my pagne, I sleepily walked over to the FECECAV gate, shocking Koffitse with my early arrival (and my outfit) and walking into the front yard expecting to see Daniel, the car and others ready to go. The AG in Danyi was meant to start at 8am, and it is over 50 kilometers away. I therefore assumed we would leave by 7 at the latest…wrong…Louise was the only one ready to go, haha (and this is because she is Daniel’s assistant and has to at least appear punctual) but she knew we wouldn’t leave for at least an hour or so. Others were busily working, as most of the office is here and running by 7am (if there is electricity.)
Daniel sauntered in around 9, a short sleeved olive green suit whose pant legs were a bit too long, and bunched up around his black sandals. We left at 9:30, heading towards Adéta, a drive that has actually become very familiar – through the outskirts of Kpalimé, past men and women and children carrying on their heads everything from books, massive buckets of water and bananas, to palm branches and entire trunks…past the piles of multicolored sheet-rock for sale outside of Lavié, through the village of Lavié itself, the tiny FECECAV caisse winking at us as we pass, Yao blaring the horn to scare goats and half-naked children…past the women under parched palm-leaved roofs with sleeping babies strapped to their backs, distractedly rearranging enamel trays of avocados, soap and batteries…past the open fields of termite castles, burning or newly planted yam fields, perfectly symmetric rows of their characteristic mounds mocking the lack of rain, the mountains rising at their backs…past the arbitrary, peeling signs for decaying primary schools of past decades, tiny fruit stands and mud huts…past the gendarmie and the naughty village boys who set up makeshift road blocks with cord and strips of old, dirty t-shirts, yelling for argent or a ride somewhere (not that I think they know where they want to go, just anywhere but there)…into the dusty and dirty town of Adéta. We continued through Adéta and towards the fields of palm trees that layer the ground at the foot of the mountains. It is quite a striking panorama, looking down the road past CECAV Fidelité at the horizon, dotted with splayed palm and banana leaves, that seems to run smack into the mountains and the road that carves up their side. You can almost feel their fraicheur and lushness from that far away. I hadn’t been up these mountains before, and although they are similar to Kouma, I was exhilarated by a new place, foliage of a deeper green (which might be simply a result of more rain) and soil of a different color.
We wound up and around the mountains, overlooking green facades bursting with palm and banana trees (these have not gotten old yet, I still love their exoticness,) patches on every face smoldering as farmers prepared the land for planting. Thick ribbons of smoke, the deep and murky kind produced by the burning of green leaves and undergrowth, rose from each valley and summit like distress signals. The villages at the top of the mountain were cool and clean, freshly swept yards and streets of damp, red dirt – much different even from Kpalimé and the villages at the base of the mountains with their dusty power and discarded plastic littering every quartier.
After a quick stop at the FECECAV office we went to meet the préfet (the mayor) of Danyi, who would be speaking at the AG and to whom customary greeting and kow-towing must be made. We arrived at his compound at the top of a hill overlooking Danyi and waited while a few proud gendarmie prepared him to receive us (which was really a presentation of his ability to hold us at bay while another went to see if he was interested in gracing us with his presence.) We filed into his office amidst a flurry of Monsieur-Directeurs, Grand Mercis and finger snapping. I was introduced, the prefet was thanked for “hosting” the AG and within 3 minutes we were ushered back out to Yao, waiting in the vehicule.
The Assemblé itself was held at a beautiful mansion that looked like an old missionary compound, covered in bright red and fuchsia bougainvillea climbing trellises, framed by enormous, ancient palm trees. It must have been built by European colonists because it was very old and built almost entirely of stone, not the typical, indigenous materials. Around 50 motos were parked outside, lined up like rows of schoolchildren. A shaded cobblestone path, semi-covered in moss and weeds (a testament to the wetter environment up here on the mountain) led back to a crumbling statue of the virgin mary and an dilapidated gazebo. The Agents de Credit and others from the Danyi office were thrilled to see me, as I am now becoming familiar and friendly with more and more of FECECAV’s extended staff. This absolutely warms my heart :)
There were far more men than women in the crowd of about 200 people that filled the meeting hall (this didn’t really shock me, considering that most of the women were most likely running their small businesses, taking care of their children and couldn’t afford to take the afternoon off.) Ivorian music crackled out of some busted speakers placed next to the door and we shook hands with several CECAV-Duanenyo staff members lined up in a sort of receiving-line as we entered the hall. The front row of the audience was occupied by the traditional village chiefs, dressed in the customary pagnes and boubous, slouching in plastic chairs and leather sandals while fiddling with their cellphones – that paradox almost made me laugh out loud. These chiefs, although quintessentially archaic in their symbolic role, still maintain a high level of prestige and authority in Togolese towns and villages. They are heavily involved in issues of justice and claim to, alongside the préfet, uphold the moral statutes of law and order.
The entire first part of the AG was “Welcoming Remarks,” fairly typical of these African directeurs and ceremonies (I have come to expect this now, as well as the 3 hour late start.) After the president of the Danyi caisse and Daniel, who discussed grandly the importance of each CECAV as a part of FECECAV, FECECAV’s part in the Togolese national strategy for Microfinance as well as its stark contrast from state programs (“FECECAV n’est pas comme la poste! Les profts sont pour vous!) and encouraged Danyi’s clients to keep up their good work. Each speech was recorded on an antique cassette player, held one inch from their mouths by a tired-looking woman standing next to them. (NB: As an ex-Event Coordinator, I was continually distracted by my comparisons of the A/V capacities of this, the largest annual meeting for CECAV-Duanenyo, and IPA’s exorbitantly expensive “Expert Consultations” and “Roundtable Discussions” at the Greentree Estate every other month. At first I couldn’t decide whether to be utterly disgusted or to laugh – I quickly settled on the former.)
I made my “speech” next. I had prepared it and practiced the night before for Athanase. Its main purpose was to provide motivation as a representative of a partner organization, to explain Kiva in a (very) simplified manner and to end on a note of hope and enthusiasm. I obviously did not have a hard time with the enthusiasm bit and, since I am not shy haha, had no problem getting up there and engaging with my audience. I was introduced by the Chef d’Agence of Danyi who, as usual, took the opportunity to poke fun at the Kiva-Kira coincidence – everyone gets such a kick out of it. With the tape recorder just beyond my lips I smiled and began.
“Je suis une représentante d’une ONG Américaine, Kiva, qui mobilise les fonds sur un site internet pour les organisations de microfinance comme FECECAV. J’étais déjà ici depuis un mois et demi pour supporter le travail sur le site et de voir l’impact de FECECAV, et la microfinance, sur le terrain J’ai eu l’opportunité de travailler à Kpalimé avec CECAV-Avenir, et j’ai visité aussi beaucoup d’autres bureaux. Je suis très contente d’être ici à Danyi aujourd’hui.
Depuis le commencement de l’association avec Kiva en Décembre, plus de 150 clients de FECECAV ont reçu un totale d’environ 50,000,000CFA de l’ONG Kiva. Tous l’argent était envoyer au taux zéro. Ce numéro va augmenter, et chaque caisse va avoir la chance de bénéficier des fonds. Ces fonds viennent des préteurs Américaines (et Canadiennes) qui veulent vous aider à changer votre vie. Ils vous donnent les moyens à le faire vous-mêmes. Voilà l’impact de la microfinance – c’est à vous! Avec Kiva, FECECAV a commencé à développer les rapports partout le monde. L’importance des partenaires globales ne peut pas être sous-estimée, et je vois le rapport avec Kiva comme un commencement de quelque chose beaucoup plus grand.
Chaque fois que je fais une visite à une nouvelle branche de FECECAV je suis toujours impressionnée par l’importance de votre travail, vos accomplissements, et la diligence des employés et clients. C’est vous, les clients engagés de FECECAV, qui créent le destin de cette organisation incroyable, et il faut être fier! Je vous souhaite du courage, de continuer votre bon travail, et de continuer à achever les vrais buts de la microfinance. Vous m’avez tellement inspiré, et j’espère que vous allez continuer avec l’optimisme que je vois en tout le monde ici. Merci pour l’opportunité de travailler avec vous, et pour voir comment vous décidez votre futur et réalisez votre rêves."
Daniel was beaming and told me I should be a politician, laughing at the hilarity of his sarcasm. My speech was followed by a translation in Ewe, where I understood only two words, Kiva and Kira (once again, the joke, and the audience laughing,) the clients seemed to get the true essence of my words and nodded, smiled and clucked in satisfaction.
After a lunch of Ablo and spicy tomato/mystery meat sauce with the Chiefs and other “officiels” and a personal gift of a bag of pineapples from the Chef d’Agence of the Danyi caisse (why don’t I like pineapples, I don’t understand…but it’s ok, Mensah used them for the FECECAV party on the weekend,) we made the winding trek back down the mountains, past the termite mansions and through a massive rain storm back home to Kpalimé. That night was characterized by something that can be called nothing other than an invasion, of termite-like bugs with double the number of wings…
* * *
For the rest of my time with FECECAV (which will now be until the end of May, when my visa expires and I run out of malaria meds) I am going to finish the Kiva Manual and follow up on the IT processes that were elaborated on and organized during Carol’s visit (see the upcoming blog for more on that one) but mostly work on the preparations for the solar project and anything else they need around the office. This is actually quite liberating and kind of what I felt I wanted to be doing here all along…but as far as the solar thing goes, it is almost maniacally inspiring…can this really be so huge as to change the direction of my life? Will the next 5 years of my life work towards developing an NGO of my own – sprung from my Dad’s knowledge, guidance and expertise, catering to my apparent lack of ability or interest in committing myself to others’ organizations enough to actually work for them? Allowing me to criticize as much as I want, continually improve and do something that satisfies my desire to do something that WORKS? Can it be? Once again (Koffitse has told me that this is “my phrase”) on verra.
I helped Olivier write a CV in English and am going to do the same for Athanase. I can just be here, as myself, helping my friends and colleagues as they want me to help them. No ulterior motives (wherever these come from anyway, certainly not my own mind…) no aggressive supervisors with mysterious intentions and corporate mentalities, no miscommunication and moral wish-wash. Just me, taking each day as it comes while working towards a grand vision of something stimulating and REAL – which is apparent to everyone here and to myself. I can live with that.
When it comes to the solar project, it is something tangible (like a zero-percent interest loan, in theory) and effective, without predetermined expectations or intrusions of ideas of development, work ethic or morality – not that we will develop a foreign policy like China or anything, there are certain limitations and finding out what this means will require a dangerous and moral balancing act on a thin, vague line of integrity and common sense. I foresee this as one of my biggest challenges, one whose concept is not even entirely worked out in my head quite yet…These PV systems will power existing enterprises (businesses with social missions of course, most likely Microfinance Institutions, because we will have to narrow it down for many reasons) without any significant compromises – yet.
I am sure we will come across compromises, as I have with Kiva, but these will have to be ironed out in a careful and thorough manner (which, in my opinion, is one of Kiva’s biggest weaknesses and they have instead accepted the costs with the benefits.) The give and take will be a challenge and I am sure that certain concessions will indeed be required in order to succeed. However, this to me does not mean necessarily “finding a middle ground.” We can do better than that! Acceptance of costs in exchange for benefits that can in any way, shape or form be seen to equalize each other (or even come close, which would be straying too far from the initial goal of pure, uncontaminated assistance) is just unacceptable. Not good enough. Why bother if this will be the case? This is why I am going to have to do it myself, and I am so ready.
Daniel has started to realize that I’m not joking about all of this, that I’m not some empty-promising yovo who is going to split without finishing what I start. He is so happy, so encouraged and gets a far off look in his eyes and cries that Ewe “ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo” every time he realizes what some solar panels on the roof of CECAV Avenir would actually mean…he told me that I am “un cadeau qui dieu a donné au FECECAV,” which from him is a magnanimous compliment. He is behind me 100%, different than his support for me being a Kiva fellow (which was equally jubilant, just different) because he senses something in me. That I want to do this on my own accord, and I have a love for everyone here and the essence of this place that is sincere, that I have something inside of me that is special and real and has been waiting to emerge, and that I may have found it.
So in terms of actually making it happen and then making it sustainable…
As I have been thinking and writing and thinking and talking to people and writing and thinking some more about this project, I have come to realize that there is really no way we can do it as a completely private venture without a real consultative and collaborative relationship with someone/some department fairly high up in the Togolese government. Although I do want to keep this a “local affair” and try not to get caught up in the bureaucratic nonsense of cabinet ministers and the tightly wound policies on privatization and natural resource management, I see a degree of cooperation as semi-unavoidable if we are going to do this right. I hope we are not going to open up a can of worms that will be far more than we bargained for…
I came up with the idea of channeling our project through the National Strategy for Microfinance. This is a highly developed program here in Togo and many of their goals and social missions for MFIs, are centered around an IT strategy. I am hoping that if we can convince them that the introduction of a Solar Energy program (our project being the start) will in turn help them to achieve their goals of the proposed informatisation of rural MFIs. I have done some research on this already and have run it by a few of my colleagues, who all think that this is the best way to get the project off the ground.
Now I anxiously anticipate my Dad’s arrival, to evaluate the technical aspects of the system in terms of size and usage, the installation itself and other such details. I cannot wait to see his reactions to this place, the project seen in real time and space and to get started.
Enough ramblings and rêves for today…they’re about to cut the current anyway because the wind is blowing fiercely and we’re about to see another serious storm…so you’re free :)
Myea dogo –
K
We are in the midst of the sequence of annual Assemblés Générales. There are 5 scheduled in the next 3 weeks (what luck!) Les Assemblés Générales are the crux of a Microfinance Co-op like FECECAV. They represent the basic and moral principles on which the organization itself is built upon, and are the most significant event in each bureau’s annual calendar. In literature and theory about Microfinance, AG’s and the like are alluded to as almost mythic presentations of the ideology of Microfinance and showcases of the doctrines of the Cooperatif. FECECAV’s organizational structure and credibility as a Social Business relies on the fact that the borrowers themselves are the patrons of the organization. FECECAV belongs to its clients. FECECAV exists because they make it work. The Assemblé Générale is an annual gathering for all of the clients of each FECECAV caisse.
I will now take a moment to comment on FECECAV’s eleven branches – if only on their names, because I think they are so symbolic. Literally. Each caisse is called CECAV (Caisses d’Epargne et de Crédit des Associations Villageoises, Loan and Credit Banks of Village Associations – it makes much more sense in French, but you get the idea) and the “FE” at the beginning of the organization’s formal name, “Faitiére des Entités,” (literally, the maker of entities) is employed to group all of the CECAVs together. Finally, I understand this acronym. But the English version just doesn’t capture it…
Each CECAV is accompanied by a word, in French or Ewe or a mélange of both, that intensely exemplifies the essence of FECECAV’s impact and its mission. Once again, the English translations won’t fully portray it, but here it goes:
• CECAV Avenir (The Future) – Kpalimé
• CECAV Espoir (Hope) – Aventonou
• CECAV Duanenyo (La village/localité ou tout va bien; The town/place where all is good) – Danyi
• CECAV Nevame (Ca soit accompli; It will be accomplished) – Womé
• CECAV Fraternité (Brotherhood) – Lomé
• CECAV Fidelité (Fidelity) – Adéta
• CECAV Solidarité (Solidarity) – Amoussokopé
• CECAV Enyo (C’est bon ; All is good) – Atakpamé
• CECAV Yayra (Bénédiction ; Benediction/Blessing/Approval) – Lomé
• CECAV La Grace (Grace) – Assahoun
• CECAV Abwe (Enyo; C’est bon; All is Good) – Badou
Interestingly, there is a complicated and hidden dynamic underlying the relations between these offices due to the laws surrounding mutuels in Togo. The government set up a system of regulations to govern these institutions, which have multiple branches and offer both loans services and savings accounts. In theory, these regulations work in the interest of protecting clients’ savings. In reality it does not necessarily endorse or enforce these kinds of good practices and instead acts as serious obstacle to efficient intra-organizational collaboration and functionality. Each branch of FECECAV is, by law, an autonomous institution that could at any time choose to separate from the larger structure and become its own institution. Not only does this create a nightmare for centralization of data and other practical concerns, it generates a vacuum of power, complex battles for influence and ambiguous as well as superfluous roles within FECECAV. The very idea of authority becomes convoluted. Each Chef d’Agence (General Manager/Branch President) wields significant clout, as do his clients. Once again a great idea, in theory.
Daniel is the “CEO” (“DG” as they call him, Directeur Général) and should have the ultimate command of all the other branches, if only for efficiency’s sake! In theory, he does, but the national laws restrict his ability to organize and implement. Imagine the CEO of Chase Bank being at the mercy of every General Manager and his flock of account holders and having to compromise with them on every policy and process change…this is one of the big reasons why things take so long here sometimes…and why things get watered down, simplified or simply not done...this is also why each branch works towards its own objectives and targets without much regard for the general, far-reaching strategy of FECECAV as an entity. This is not sustainable…
It also makes Kiva work hard, as it is difficult for Daniel to implement new processes for centralizing data and use of IT systems throughout the FECECAV branches, and importantly, to choose which branches will submit loans to the site. All of the Chefs d’Agence are in a covert battle with each other to receive the next donated camera and the opportunity to post loans on the Kiva site, as the free money obviously improves their numbers. This kind of intra-organizational competition in a Microcredit Bank seems very dangerous to me…
But back to the Assemblé Générales…Daniel explained their essence to me in detail a few weeks ago when he invited me to attend, and asked if I would be willing to speak for 2-3 minutes (I elatedly accepted of course.) The first was last week, in the mountain village of Danyi.
It works like this – FECECAV convokes all of the clients of Danyi’s Bureau, Duanenyo, through word of mouth, personal invitations, radio and press. Daniel explained to me that clients’ attendance at the AG’s is their right, and FECECAV makes every effort to ensure that they are informed. It is not obligatory of course. The purpose of the Assemblé is, in a nutshell, to present the rapports (financial and otherwise) of 2007, to present the workplan for 2008, to have elections for new leaders and to generally celebrate the notion of clients as proprietors and the successes of their thriving microfinance organization. The meeting itself is followed by a lunch, complete with music and dancing, Fufu, Flags and Castels and much revelry.
The elections take place to vote in new presidents. Each caisse has 5 presidents that serve for 3 years. The presidents, clients themselves of course, serve as liaisons between the CECAV staff and the rest of the clients. They are leaders and advocates for the clients and work in tandem between the functions of the bureau and clients’ daily lives in order to implement developments, resolve issues and, by their mere existence, ensure accountability. It is an interesting and fundamentally democratic role – both a patron and a client, elected by both patrons and the clients, to serve both patrons and clients (which all essentially embody the same function, work towards the same goals and are held to the same obligations and regulations – underlined by mutual respect, cooperation and commitment.) The presidents are selected for their performance with their own businesses, conscientiousness and responsibility, and of course their personality. Each president serves for 3 years and elections and terms are staggered so that only 2 presidents can ever leave at the same time, ensuring that knowledge and experience will be left behind, but that there is a constant flow of new blood and invigoration.
Unfortunately, the irony of it all is that these presidents, and their respective boards, are not the most qualified, nor engaged, to be deemed “advisors” or “board members” in any true sense of the word(s)...after spending enough time with the president of the board of CECAV Avenir, I am not convinced that she understands anything beyond the prestige she has gained in her community by having a stamp made with her name on it. It is a shame that it is more symbolic than anything else…because its very existence is essential and the theory behind it is better than almost any organizational structure in the developed world – even more beautiful because it embodies the nature of community that defines this place.
On the morning of the AG, at 6:45am, proudly wearing my pagne, I sleepily walked over to the FECECAV gate, shocking Koffitse with my early arrival (and my outfit) and walking into the front yard expecting to see Daniel, the car and others ready to go. The AG in Danyi was meant to start at 8am, and it is over 50 kilometers away. I therefore assumed we would leave by 7 at the latest…wrong…Louise was the only one ready to go, haha (and this is because she is Daniel’s assistant and has to at least appear punctual) but she knew we wouldn’t leave for at least an hour or so. Others were busily working, as most of the office is here and running by 7am (if there is electricity.)
Daniel sauntered in around 9, a short sleeved olive green suit whose pant legs were a bit too long, and bunched up around his black sandals. We left at 9:30, heading towards Adéta, a drive that has actually become very familiar – through the outskirts of Kpalimé, past men and women and children carrying on their heads everything from books, massive buckets of water and bananas, to palm branches and entire trunks…past the piles of multicolored sheet-rock for sale outside of Lavié, through the village of Lavié itself, the tiny FECECAV caisse winking at us as we pass, Yao blaring the horn to scare goats and half-naked children…past the women under parched palm-leaved roofs with sleeping babies strapped to their backs, distractedly rearranging enamel trays of avocados, soap and batteries…past the open fields of termite castles, burning or newly planted yam fields, perfectly symmetric rows of their characteristic mounds mocking the lack of rain, the mountains rising at their backs…past the arbitrary, peeling signs for decaying primary schools of past decades, tiny fruit stands and mud huts…past the gendarmie and the naughty village boys who set up makeshift road blocks with cord and strips of old, dirty t-shirts, yelling for argent or a ride somewhere (not that I think they know where they want to go, just anywhere but there)…into the dusty and dirty town of Adéta. We continued through Adéta and towards the fields of palm trees that layer the ground at the foot of the mountains. It is quite a striking panorama, looking down the road past CECAV Fidelité at the horizon, dotted with splayed palm and banana leaves, that seems to run smack into the mountains and the road that carves up their side. You can almost feel their fraicheur and lushness from that far away. I hadn’t been up these mountains before, and although they are similar to Kouma, I was exhilarated by a new place, foliage of a deeper green (which might be simply a result of more rain) and soil of a different color.
We wound up and around the mountains, overlooking green facades bursting with palm and banana trees (these have not gotten old yet, I still love their exoticness,) patches on every face smoldering as farmers prepared the land for planting. Thick ribbons of smoke, the deep and murky kind produced by the burning of green leaves and undergrowth, rose from each valley and summit like distress signals. The villages at the top of the mountain were cool and clean, freshly swept yards and streets of damp, red dirt – much different even from Kpalimé and the villages at the base of the mountains with their dusty power and discarded plastic littering every quartier.
After a quick stop at the FECECAV office we went to meet the préfet (the mayor) of Danyi, who would be speaking at the AG and to whom customary greeting and kow-towing must be made. We arrived at his compound at the top of a hill overlooking Danyi and waited while a few proud gendarmie prepared him to receive us (which was really a presentation of his ability to hold us at bay while another went to see if he was interested in gracing us with his presence.) We filed into his office amidst a flurry of Monsieur-Directeurs, Grand Mercis and finger snapping. I was introduced, the prefet was thanked for “hosting” the AG and within 3 minutes we were ushered back out to Yao, waiting in the vehicule.
The Assemblé itself was held at a beautiful mansion that looked like an old missionary compound, covered in bright red and fuchsia bougainvillea climbing trellises, framed by enormous, ancient palm trees. It must have been built by European colonists because it was very old and built almost entirely of stone, not the typical, indigenous materials. Around 50 motos were parked outside, lined up like rows of schoolchildren. A shaded cobblestone path, semi-covered in moss and weeds (a testament to the wetter environment up here on the mountain) led back to a crumbling statue of the virgin mary and an dilapidated gazebo. The Agents de Credit and others from the Danyi office were thrilled to see me, as I am now becoming familiar and friendly with more and more of FECECAV’s extended staff. This absolutely warms my heart :)
There were far more men than women in the crowd of about 200 people that filled the meeting hall (this didn’t really shock me, considering that most of the women were most likely running their small businesses, taking care of their children and couldn’t afford to take the afternoon off.) Ivorian music crackled out of some busted speakers placed next to the door and we shook hands with several CECAV-Duanenyo staff members lined up in a sort of receiving-line as we entered the hall. The front row of the audience was occupied by the traditional village chiefs, dressed in the customary pagnes and boubous, slouching in plastic chairs and leather sandals while fiddling with their cellphones – that paradox almost made me laugh out loud. These chiefs, although quintessentially archaic in their symbolic role, still maintain a high level of prestige and authority in Togolese towns and villages. They are heavily involved in issues of justice and claim to, alongside the préfet, uphold the moral statutes of law and order.
The entire first part of the AG was “Welcoming Remarks,” fairly typical of these African directeurs and ceremonies (I have come to expect this now, as well as the 3 hour late start.) After the president of the Danyi caisse and Daniel, who discussed grandly the importance of each CECAV as a part of FECECAV, FECECAV’s part in the Togolese national strategy for Microfinance as well as its stark contrast from state programs (“FECECAV n’est pas comme la poste! Les profts sont pour vous!) and encouraged Danyi’s clients to keep up their good work. Each speech was recorded on an antique cassette player, held one inch from their mouths by a tired-looking woman standing next to them. (NB: As an ex-Event Coordinator, I was continually distracted by my comparisons of the A/V capacities of this, the largest annual meeting for CECAV-Duanenyo, and IPA’s exorbitantly expensive “Expert Consultations” and “Roundtable Discussions” at the Greentree Estate every other month. At first I couldn’t decide whether to be utterly disgusted or to laugh – I quickly settled on the former.)
I made my “speech” next. I had prepared it and practiced the night before for Athanase. Its main purpose was to provide motivation as a representative of a partner organization, to explain Kiva in a (very) simplified manner and to end on a note of hope and enthusiasm. I obviously did not have a hard time with the enthusiasm bit and, since I am not shy haha, had no problem getting up there and engaging with my audience. I was introduced by the Chef d’Agence of Danyi who, as usual, took the opportunity to poke fun at the Kiva-Kira coincidence – everyone gets such a kick out of it. With the tape recorder just beyond my lips I smiled and began.
“Je suis une représentante d’une ONG Américaine, Kiva, qui mobilise les fonds sur un site internet pour les organisations de microfinance comme FECECAV. J’étais déjà ici depuis un mois et demi pour supporter le travail sur le site et de voir l’impact de FECECAV, et la microfinance, sur le terrain J’ai eu l’opportunité de travailler à Kpalimé avec CECAV-Avenir, et j’ai visité aussi beaucoup d’autres bureaux. Je suis très contente d’être ici à Danyi aujourd’hui.
Depuis le commencement de l’association avec Kiva en Décembre, plus de 150 clients de FECECAV ont reçu un totale d’environ 50,000,000CFA de l’ONG Kiva. Tous l’argent était envoyer au taux zéro. Ce numéro va augmenter, et chaque caisse va avoir la chance de bénéficier des fonds. Ces fonds viennent des préteurs Américaines (et Canadiennes) qui veulent vous aider à changer votre vie. Ils vous donnent les moyens à le faire vous-mêmes. Voilà l’impact de la microfinance – c’est à vous! Avec Kiva, FECECAV a commencé à développer les rapports partout le monde. L’importance des partenaires globales ne peut pas être sous-estimée, et je vois le rapport avec Kiva comme un commencement de quelque chose beaucoup plus grand.
Chaque fois que je fais une visite à une nouvelle branche de FECECAV je suis toujours impressionnée par l’importance de votre travail, vos accomplissements, et la diligence des employés et clients. C’est vous, les clients engagés de FECECAV, qui créent le destin de cette organisation incroyable, et il faut être fier! Je vous souhaite du courage, de continuer votre bon travail, et de continuer à achever les vrais buts de la microfinance. Vous m’avez tellement inspiré, et j’espère que vous allez continuer avec l’optimisme que je vois en tout le monde ici. Merci pour l’opportunité de travailler avec vous, et pour voir comment vous décidez votre futur et réalisez votre rêves."
Daniel was beaming and told me I should be a politician, laughing at the hilarity of his sarcasm. My speech was followed by a translation in Ewe, where I understood only two words, Kiva and Kira (once again, the joke, and the audience laughing,) the clients seemed to get the true essence of my words and nodded, smiled and clucked in satisfaction.
After a lunch of Ablo and spicy tomato/mystery meat sauce with the Chiefs and other “officiels” and a personal gift of a bag of pineapples from the Chef d’Agence of the Danyi caisse (why don’t I like pineapples, I don’t understand…but it’s ok, Mensah used them for the FECECAV party on the weekend,) we made the winding trek back down the mountains, past the termite mansions and through a massive rain storm back home to Kpalimé. That night was characterized by something that can be called nothing other than an invasion, of termite-like bugs with double the number of wings…
* * *
For the rest of my time with FECECAV (which will now be until the end of May, when my visa expires and I run out of malaria meds) I am going to finish the Kiva Manual and follow up on the IT processes that were elaborated on and organized during Carol’s visit (see the upcoming blog for more on that one) but mostly work on the preparations for the solar project and anything else they need around the office. This is actually quite liberating and kind of what I felt I wanted to be doing here all along…but as far as the solar thing goes, it is almost maniacally inspiring…can this really be so huge as to change the direction of my life? Will the next 5 years of my life work towards developing an NGO of my own – sprung from my Dad’s knowledge, guidance and expertise, catering to my apparent lack of ability or interest in committing myself to others’ organizations enough to actually work for them? Allowing me to criticize as much as I want, continually improve and do something that satisfies my desire to do something that WORKS? Can it be? Once again (Koffitse has told me that this is “my phrase”) on verra.
I helped Olivier write a CV in English and am going to do the same for Athanase. I can just be here, as myself, helping my friends and colleagues as they want me to help them. No ulterior motives (wherever these come from anyway, certainly not my own mind…) no aggressive supervisors with mysterious intentions and corporate mentalities, no miscommunication and moral wish-wash. Just me, taking each day as it comes while working towards a grand vision of something stimulating and REAL – which is apparent to everyone here and to myself. I can live with that.
When it comes to the solar project, it is something tangible (like a zero-percent interest loan, in theory) and effective, without predetermined expectations or intrusions of ideas of development, work ethic or morality – not that we will develop a foreign policy like China or anything, there are certain limitations and finding out what this means will require a dangerous and moral balancing act on a thin, vague line of integrity and common sense. I foresee this as one of my biggest challenges, one whose concept is not even entirely worked out in my head quite yet…These PV systems will power existing enterprises (businesses with social missions of course, most likely Microfinance Institutions, because we will have to narrow it down for many reasons) without any significant compromises – yet.
I am sure we will come across compromises, as I have with Kiva, but these will have to be ironed out in a careful and thorough manner (which, in my opinion, is one of Kiva’s biggest weaknesses and they have instead accepted the costs with the benefits.) The give and take will be a challenge and I am sure that certain concessions will indeed be required in order to succeed. However, this to me does not mean necessarily “finding a middle ground.” We can do better than that! Acceptance of costs in exchange for benefits that can in any way, shape or form be seen to equalize each other (or even come close, which would be straying too far from the initial goal of pure, uncontaminated assistance) is just unacceptable. Not good enough. Why bother if this will be the case? This is why I am going to have to do it myself, and I am so ready.
Daniel has started to realize that I’m not joking about all of this, that I’m not some empty-promising yovo who is going to split without finishing what I start. He is so happy, so encouraged and gets a far off look in his eyes and cries that Ewe “ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo” every time he realizes what some solar panels on the roof of CECAV Avenir would actually mean…he told me that I am “un cadeau qui dieu a donné au FECECAV,” which from him is a magnanimous compliment. He is behind me 100%, different than his support for me being a Kiva fellow (which was equally jubilant, just different) because he senses something in me. That I want to do this on my own accord, and I have a love for everyone here and the essence of this place that is sincere, that I have something inside of me that is special and real and has been waiting to emerge, and that I may have found it.
So in terms of actually making it happen and then making it sustainable…
As I have been thinking and writing and thinking and talking to people and writing and thinking some more about this project, I have come to realize that there is really no way we can do it as a completely private venture without a real consultative and collaborative relationship with someone/some department fairly high up in the Togolese government. Although I do want to keep this a “local affair” and try not to get caught up in the bureaucratic nonsense of cabinet ministers and the tightly wound policies on privatization and natural resource management, I see a degree of cooperation as semi-unavoidable if we are going to do this right. I hope we are not going to open up a can of worms that will be far more than we bargained for…
I came up with the idea of channeling our project through the National Strategy for Microfinance. This is a highly developed program here in Togo and many of their goals and social missions for MFIs, are centered around an IT strategy. I am hoping that if we can convince them that the introduction of a Solar Energy program (our project being the start) will in turn help them to achieve their goals of the proposed informatisation of rural MFIs. I have done some research on this already and have run it by a few of my colleagues, who all think that this is the best way to get the project off the ground.
Now I anxiously anticipate my Dad’s arrival, to evaluate the technical aspects of the system in terms of size and usage, the installation itself and other such details. I cannot wait to see his reactions to this place, the project seen in real time and space and to get started.
Enough ramblings and rêves for today…they’re about to cut the current anyway because the wind is blowing fiercely and we’re about to see another serious storm…so you’re free :)
Myea dogo –
K
Thursday, April 3, 2008
1 April – Snapshot
It is pretty much impossible to sleep in here…
Every morning at 6am on the dot, I am pulled from my sleep by the scrape-scrape-scrape-scrape of the night guard sweeping the front yard of petit suisse…his broom is a bundle of reeds tied together, and he is sweeping mango leaves, dead termites and dirt off of the stones and into a pile to be burned later in the day. This sound has become the staple annoyance of my day (heard all over Kpalimé at all hours, in fact) to the point that I roll over and laugh now when I hear it interrupting my haze of dream-sleep. Some days I silently curse him in my drowsy stupor, then start laughing to myself again and put on my headphones to try to drown it out for one more hour of sleep. Doesn’t usually work. By that time, Kpalimé is awake and my desire for another few minutes of beauty sleep is of no concern.
Roosters have been crowing for hours, aimlessly wandering the quiet morning streets pecking at the dirt, hoping for a kernel. Babies and small children are hungry and crying in every corner of the quartier, or strapped on their mothers backs with a colorful pagne, dozing off again as these patient women set up their stands on the side of the road for another day of miniscule potential profit. If it is a weekend, boisterous soccer teams parade by chanting, singing and drumming in Ewe. Carpenters hammer and saw, installing a new door here and a shutter there, improvement is a constant, yet ironically stagnant process here. Nothing is still in the morning, as this is the coolest time of day, and the most comfortable time to be moving around, before the sun is at its height.
After my cold shower, which is actually quite refreshing, where I wash my hair with a bar of soap (I ran out of shampoo quickly, not realizing I wouldn’t be able to buy more…) I open my room to air it out during the day when there aren’t as many mosquitoes. Then I struggle with the stubborn lock on my door and step out into the balmy humidity of the hallway. I wander down to have my breakfast. Waiting on the nearest table is always a glass, a cup and saucer and a fork with a napkin folded in it – some days it is a fan, sometimes a butterfly, sometimes a rose. Kossi and Felize, the apprentices, find it amusing to change it daily. I have the same thing for breakfast every day – scrambled eggs with onions and a sliced roll, which is (sometimes) fresh from one of the vendors just outside the gate. I drink Nescafe without milk, as it is always warm and halfway curdled, with 2 sugar cubes. While I haven’t gotten sick of this routine yet, every once in a while I can’t finish the coffee because it’s just not good, haha, and I miss the dark roast of a
Soon I look at my cellphone for the time, bid goodbye to Mensah, Felize and Kossi (Akpene is usually au service – at work) and head out the gate for the short walk to the FECECAV office. The distance between the gate of Petit Suisse and the gate of FECECAV is about 20 feet, but it takes me a good 5-7 minutes to get there because of all the stops and greetings I make along the way. It is a cheerful and energizing commute, with all of these morning people. Much better than the F train or the
First I pass the boutique that belongs to Daniel’s wife. She sells an assortment of essential items, from bagged water and Togocell cards to onion, tomatoes and canned goods, to the occasional boubou and nail polish, depending on what she’s picked up in Lomé this month. I never know who will be manning the shop, as it changes throughout the day. In the morning it is usually grand-mére, as Grace and Jesu are at school and Maman is au marché. She is, as always, munching on her dentille (the sticks that Africans use to clean their teeth, which are sold in lieu of toothbrushes.) She waves and smiles, muttering in a mixture of Ewe, French and Kabyé. Kabyé is the language spoken in the North, which is where Daniel is from and is grand-mére’s native language. She and I generally communicate through this mélange of languages, taking cues from each other’s body language and the handful words that we commonly understand in all three languages. Note that Grace and Jesu, both under age 10, speak all three…
As I pass, the mechanics across the street, lazing about on tires and/or fixing a busted moto, hiss at me and I wave and pretend not to be annoyed. I keep walking. Soon I pass Koffise (pronounced KofitCHO,) my friend who sells l’essence et l’huile (gas and motor oil) just outside FECECAV’s gate. Koffise is stunningly handsome, tall and very thin, with bottomless brown eyes and dimpled creases that emanate from his smile in rows of concentric circles. He has uneven tribal scars cut into his high cheekbones and often wears black eyeliner under his eyes, drawing even more attention to their mischievous glimmer. Thus far I have seen him every day in the same red courdouroys, slightly stained with dark oil but surprisingly clean, and red plastic sandals. He alternates between a filthy white sleeveless shirt and a striped one, showing off his muscled biceps – despite their small circumference, they exude strength and look as though they have been chiseled to perfection. He wears his cellulaire around his neck in a black pouch. Every week, Koffise fills plastic buckets with gas and motor oil at the Texaco station in town, transfers it to old liquor bottles and re-sells it to moto drivers. He also does ad-hoc mechanical work for some of his customers and FECECAV employees, due to his convenient location. Every time I enter or leave FECECAV Koffise is there smiling and chatting through the perfectly spaced gaps in his teeth, either pouring l’essence into a moto’s tank with a funnel or sprawling his lanky appendages over his moto or the grappling roots of the huge tree that shade his stand.
As I reach the concrete ramp that leads through FECECAV’s huge metal gate, I meet the collectrices and random FECECAV staff milling about outside. Motos roll and sputter in and out of the gate and we all greet each other with the customary and now habitual West African finger-snap handshake and a series of Bonjour!s, Tu as bien dormi?s, and Comment?s This is their equivalent of the morning dawdling around the coffee machine or the water cooler, yet everywhere always seems happy to see each other and not dreading the workday ahead. It is, as Innocent showed me, a combination of truly liking their microfinance job and a relieved complacency at having a job at all.
As I enter the gate, I greet the guards with snaps and smiles, and wave at the collectrices sitting and eating la pâte for breakfast (complete with raw onions and fish sauce, which I can barely digest at lunch or dinner) under the tin-roofed garage (where le vehicule, as Daniel calls it, that the Swiss NGO donated to FECECAV, is parked.) If
FECECAV’s driveway and front yard is always a flurry of activity. Shaking hands and snapping with the customary and ostentatious greetings of African businessmen “Ah, Directeur!” “Gérant, Comment?” and “Bonjour Chef!” Certain characters always refer to each other as Mr. Director, Monsieur Manager, Sir the Chief, etc. I have found this very interesting, as there are only certain circles of either political, intellectual or business men (yes, men) that address each other this way. Sometimes they appear as tragicomic caricatures of themselves, sweating in the African sunshine in sandals and linen suits, imitating some grandiose professional tradition that can seems markedly out of place.
After this routine, I head in to see Athanase. Now that I think on it, I cannot remember the first day I decided to sit in his office, only that it came naturally I have shared his desk, fan, plugstrip and comfortable company ever since. Athanase, I have mentioned him before, is the diligent comptable (accountant) here at FECECAV, and probably the person I spend the most time with (besides Akpene and Mensah) in Kpalimé. The first night I bought a few beers for the FECECAV crew, Mako (a gregarious collectrice who is based in Lomé, but we get along well and speak on the phone often) told me that he was timide and that I would have to chat him up. Athanase smiled calmly, and deliberately opposed her. This reaction was a microcosm is his good-natured personality. He is quiet, unassuming and respectful, and, after spending a bit of time with him, opens up to reveal a witty and companionable character.
I sit on the left side of his desk, always resting my feet on the half-open bottom drawer. His door faces the front yard, and we can conveniently spy on everyone who enters or leaves the compound. I have transferred almost half of the music I brought with me onto his computer, because he only likes the pop and hip hop, and I’ve taken some of his favorite African and French R&B. He is solely responsible for all of the accounting for the Kpalimé office and for centralizing the data from all 11 branches. This includes everything from salaries, invoices, financial reporting, and g-d knows what else…it appears to me that everything besides la caisse and has to do with money goes through Athanase. Meticulous and conscientious, he comes to work early, leaves late and is to Comptable as Rogier is to Agent de Crédit. Unfortunately, he dosen’t seem to get the credit he deserves, and for some reason, Daniel chose Athanase to be one of those responbile for Kiva work as well…perhaps it is a tribute to his competence that he manages to get all of this done and is still selected as the one to write business descriptions for the Kiva site, but he does seem to work a lot harder than his gérant. I suppose this is also indicative of the nature of any workplace, haha.
He and I share a lot of comfortable silence, which is something I value in life, as sitting quietly is not one of my strong points…he works in his spreadsheets and in Quickbooks, I on my laptop creating working documents for use with Kiva and writing new business descriptions. Since I “finished” training people in those first few weeks, I have now focused on a) doing a lot of the work myself while I am here b) creating a helpful User Manual in French to leave here – Kiva did provide a manual for use of the site, but it is not entirely relevant and often superfluous in meeting the actual needs here at FECECAV. Since I have done the training and now know the organization very well, I am making one of my own. I am calling it Kiva à la Kira (everyone has thought this is incredibly amusing, by the way.)
When doing Kiva work (which I try to limit with him, as he is already so busy and understands it better than anyone) Athanase and I transfer documents back and forth on my USB key and the identical one that I brought here as a gift, which he always seems to have in his breast pocket. I had to mark mine with a whiteout K after a few days of mixing them up. He patiently helps me to edit my written French and I run documents and copies back and forth to other staff when he is swamped. We listen to the music all day long.
To be continued…
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