On Ushirikiano

As we read through the applications for our farmers group, a certain root keeps popping up: “-shirika-.” As in “kushirikiana” (to cooperate or share) or “ushirikiano” (cooperation.) We’ve noticed before the heavy influence from previous NGOs working in the area, and are seeing it even more so as we’ve begun to form our group, an action that other NGOs have done countless times (though hopefully we’re tweaking it a bit to get more productive and sustainable results.) These applicants know the language to use with us, they know what warms the cockles of our little NGO hearts, and they know that we like to extol the benefits of working together and sharing ideas. But there are other concepts that are harder for them to understand—the idea that they are the ones driving this project, not the NGO with money and expertise, that higher prices don’t always mean better profits, that they need to think through decisions carefully instead of just doing exactly what we say. Take, for example, getting people to understand that they are not yet a group. The Bungu Project is structured so that potential group members receive a series of trainings that will help them decide whether or not joining the group is a good decision for them. If it is, they apply and interview with us. Only then, if they are accepted, will they be a part of the group. This group formation and decision-making process flies against the paradigm of group formation by other NGOs—they give a seminar, first come first serve—and afterwards, all people that show up are part of the group. Grasping that they must apply to this group after carefully considering their options has been a struggle for many.

In some regards, working against the precedents other NGOs have set has been a struggle, but in many other regards, it is also the precedents they’ve set that have made our work so much easier. It’s why people in Bungu show up at meetings on time when working with NGOs and why they are familiar with the concept of working together. These previous groups have laid the ground work for us and standing on their shoulders (after straightening them out a bit), we will reach further. While we may not be actively working together as organizations, which really is a shame, but more on that in a bit, it is the sum of our work and our influence that are shirikiana-ing and adding up.

And on that note of NGO partnership and cooperation, there seems to be, more often than not, a bitter competitiveness between NGOs working in the same region or field. It often doesn’t seem like we want to work together, but rather, rip apart each others’ models and efforts—a waste of a lot of good intentions and potential for growth and improvement. It seems to me that even the big corporations of the money-hungry private sector with its cut-throat board rooms have realized the value of working together with their competition to expand the sector as a whole better than we NGOs, the supposedly softer world of good intentions, have. Even if companies do it from a pragmatic viewpoint only, it is a pragmatism that they have taken advantage of and has served them well, and a pragmatism and realism NGOs would do well to emulate when it comes to partnerships and working together, the very habits that we push amongst our aid recipients.

3/12/12

Takeaways from The Ground

A few days ago marked our official 6 month point in Bungu. There’s a lot that we’ve learned about “working on the ground” over the past 6 and so months and a lot to reflect on. Ever since the new year, our neighbors have been bringing up the fact that we’re leaving soon and that they’ve grown so accustomed to us and we to life here. It’s true and looking back, there was so much that surprised us, that we had to learn to just roll with. But even today, when we’ve settled comfortably into the community and into a project, there are things we just never would have expected, which brings me to Takeaway #1: life is never “normal” on the ground. The unexpected just never stops coming. Take today, for example. I sat in my room working on a communication system to streamlining our group’s operations, when I suddenly realized, I am making “mailboxes” for grown adults out of recycled peanut butter tubs and colorful scraps of cloth. It was the most arts and crafts I’d done since Kindergarten. It was highly reminiscent of Emma Thompson’s sardonic line in Love Actually: “What did my brother do today? He stood up and fought for his country? What did I do? I made a papier-mâché lobster.” (Probably not an exact quote—I haven’t seen Love Actually as many times as you might think—but pretty darn close.) Which brings me to Takeaway #2: life on the ground is far from glamorous, as many of my friends might think when they brag about me doing development work in Africa (although I do appreciate the nod, guys.) We do everything from making recycled mailboxes to holding 3 different discussion sections of review between weekly trainings to reminding people constantly, constantly, constantly of the importance of working together, of doing your homework, of asking questions when you don’t understand, of following through by doing what you say you will, so much so that it feels like nagging, which is no enviable position for 3 20-somethings without kids to be in, especially when the nag-ees can be up to 3 or 4 times our age. Not to mention the 2 days Jessica spent drawing out a beautifully illustrated version of a supply chain to help our farmers understand the concept, which our trainer brushed over in a matter of minutes, but that’s a different story. Which, to go back to Takeaway #1, is not even close to what I expected when I left for Tanzania last year with idealistic dreams of making a difference.

No, life on the ground is not at all glamorous. We are the first ones to feel hurt when someone in the group doesn’t show up and lets you down, when failure takes place instead of success, when you see your group isn’t learning, isn’t working together. But we are also the ones closest to the joys of success and at least I can’t help but beam like a proud parent when everyone shows up on time, when they’re excited by the material being discussed in a training, or when members actively suggest ideas for the group. All of this means that life on the ground has more emotional rollercoasters than a Bollywood movie—dramatic, but unlike Bollywood, not glamorous.

So this one goes out to all the first line workers on the ground out there, not just the ones in international development. Hats off to all the teachers in the classrooms, elbows deep in 1st graders learning multiplication, whether you’re TFA, Teaching Fellows, or you call it your profession; to the nurses (especially CRNAs—much love) and doctors working the patient rooms, pouring their all into every case; and in a moment of sentimental patriotism, to all the first line emergency responders out there, who save our asses every day, whether it’s a national crisis or just because our ass is stuck up in a tree. Life on the ground isn’t glamorous, but it is relational and the relationships you form with the people you care about are what make the highs so high, the lows so low, and the insight you bring to the table in any policy or project development session so valuable.

March 5, 2012

Study Pods

As part of our effort to ensure the people of Bungu understand and retain the information they learn in our trainings, we have instituted study pods. These are small groups of 3 or 4 individuals that live roughly in the same area of Bungu and meet once a week to review materials, go over homework, ask questions, etc. We’ve learned from other NGOs that following up with people after each training increases the chances of information retention and implementation.

Last week, after our first training on record-keeping and calculating profit, we met with each group to see how well they understood the materials. We quickly realized that most everyone could read a list of things they had sold (income) and had bought (expenses) and mentally calculate their profit or loss for a day. They challenge came in putting this information in a record-keeping template. We created a seemingly simplistic template that includes 6 columns: date, item bought or sold, amount bought or sold, where it was bought or sold, and the price earned or spent. We’re trying to get our farmers in the habit of keeping records of their income and expenses so they can plan for the future, see where their money goes, etc. Coming from a very logical mindset, a template is easy and fool proof, right?

Not so much. It became clear very quickly within the study pods that putting information in such a structured format was both foreign and challenging. But, our farmers are willing to learn. They want to be able to keep records and understand how this system works. We gave them a few examples to work through and encouraged them to come to each other to fill in the template and discover the answer. I loved being able to sit and watch their minds be challenged in ways they haven’t been in years, or ever. Most of our members only studied through primary school (the equivalent of middle school in America) and have only learned basic math, reading, and writing. It is a huge blessing to know we are opening their minds and fostering a deeper level of learning and understanding.

What’s interesting is that during the training itself I would have said our farmers understood and could use this information and template. It wasn’t until the small, intimate setting of the study pod that they felt confident and comfortable enough to show their confusion.               It makes me wonder how many trainings governmental officers in Tanzania, or other NGOs that dedicate fewer human resources to follow-up, have given that have left people with tools or resources they are unable to utilize effectively. We are hoping to avoid that same scenario with these pods.

Do we play off people’s comfort level in these groups by arranging them based on geography, which also increases the likelihood of them coming because it takes less time and energy to get there? But, within these groups of friends and neighbors, there is a wide range of ability levels. Inevitably, the more advanced students are stuck reviewing concepts they already understand again and again—not a productive use of their time, deterring their interest in coming to these sessions. Do we instead, arrange these groups based on skill level, which could allow us to challenge the more advanced and work more on the basics with others?

Which would you prioritize—meeting people at their comfort level or pushing them to achieve?

In love and over the moon

Big week, big week for Team Bungu. We gathered our group together for the first time for an official group presentation, entirely in Swahili (yes, we were nervous) and held our first training on financial management. If it’s possible to have a crush on a group, we (all three of us) are in love with our group (all 10 members) (well, they’re technically not an official group yet, but a girl can dream, can’t she?) We’ve worked hard the past month, trekking to every edge of (Bungu) civilization, tramping through shambas, and explaining slowly again and again every detail of the project, but we’ve created a rock star group. I hate to say this (though not really), but I think we’ve put together the Miami Heat of farmers groups (minus the epic final loss.) And to top it all off, they’ve already started to exceed our expectations, showing up beginning 45 minutes before our first presentation and achieving full attendance and perfect punctuality to each of the gatherings we’ve had thus far, and blowing our training curriculum out of the water—substantial sections were too easy for them! It’s a challenge, it is, but a happy one that we need to step up our game for these farmers. Each of these 10 farmers was chosen for a specific skill set that they could bring in building the Bungu network, but how do we bring those skills out in a classroom setting and teach to their individual levels? Any education buffs out there, we would love to hear your insights.

Tradeoffs

As I was walking through the valley today I crossed over multiple streams and furrows. I noticed the water source in various places had a shiny film covering the surface. I assume this is a combination of run-off from agricultural inputs, residue from piki pikis (motorcycles) being cleaned in the stream, and the effects of every mama in Bungu washing clothes in the stream. A degree in environmental economics taught me about tradeoffs, weighing options, and the allocation of scarce resources. Water is most certainly a scarce resource in Bungu as it is used for cooking, drinking, washing clothes, and irrigation—the ultimate driver for food and income security.

As I walked along the steam I thought about the status of this source and the impacts the pollution was having on its vitality. I didn’t see one fish, just a few tadpoles here and there, and there was essentially nothing growing in the stream. In the United States this would never fly; we have the EPA, the Fish and Wildlife Service, as well as numerous NGOs fighting for stream preservation and studying down-stream impacts. With few champions of the environment here, there is no telling to what kind of long-term impacts this negligence will lead.

So okay, what if I just stay in Bungu and work on stream management? What if I can educate about the negative impacts these actions are having on the water? I thought these things today but then questioned whether education would be enough to encourage the people of Bungu to tradeoff what they use in their fields, what they drive and where they wash these vehicles, or how they do their laundry. Since the success of a harvest determines both food and income for a family, agricultural inputs are prized commodities; I can vouch for how much easier it is to wash my clothes straight in the river rather than carrying water up the mountain to do so; and, I’m just glad we even have vehicles running through Bungu each day connecting us to the outside world. At this point, I—the girl who fought for the removal of a UGA’s coal plant from campus and scold my friends and family for not recycling—wouldn’t be willing to trade these things for the protection of our water source. How could I expect a Bungu-an?

Pei and I had a long conversation about this and realized that at this point there aren’t easily accessible alternatives. There is one type of soap available that everyone uses for laundry. There are no organic agricultural inputs—with the exception of manure—sold in Bungu, as one health-conscious farmer pointed out to us. And there certainly aren’t many emissions tests required or enforced here. So at this point, where are the available substitutes? The decisions the people of Bungu make with regards to water are largely constrained by their lack of options.

In addition, there is a lack of short-term incentives for water protection that rivals the societal norms. Farmers that are able to buy dawa (fertilizer, pesticides, etc.) are respected as successful farmers that have enough money to buy these. Everyone washes clothes in the river and this is a truly a social gathering place embedded in the culture. Lastly, those that have vehicles are well-respected, have status, and have money. What could I, the token mzungu, say or do to incentivize the preservation and protection of these streams that would rival the status quo? I hate to say this, but part of me feels like right now there is not much I could do. Education seems insufficient, but I suppose it would be a good place to start. Education and lots of time.

Luckily, there are glimpses of hope and progression taking root. An NGO called TFCG (Tanzanian Forestry Conservation Group) works heavily in Bungu on reforestation efforts and other environmental causes. One farmer who told us he will quit farming in 3 years if he can’t find organic agricultural inputs. There is hope. But, before real change will occur I believe there will need to be substitutes provided—such as comparably priced organic inputs—and clear incentives—such as mandatory emissions testing. Until then, it is likely that the people of Bungu will continue to tradeoff the cleanliness of their water for the societal norms their accustomed to. Wouldn’t you?

Pineapple Money

Sitting in gridlock traffic, while in route to the Dar es Salaam bus stand, I looked out the window and saw a teenage boy in faded khakis and a well worn green baseball hat. He stood behind an unstable table made up of tree stumps and a sheet of plywood across the top. On it stood one lonely clear bucket that contained pineapple chunks to preview for potential customers. On the ground next to the table pineapples were haphazardly stacked. I watched this boy as he took out a wad of Tanzanian shillings and count diligently. While I could only watch though the glass of the taxi, I noticed that as he counted the shillings, he would get half way through, a confused look would cross his face and then he would start the counting over. As he struggled with the simple task of counting money, it got me to ponder questions like:

• What is the story of this boy? How did he get here? How did he end up selling pineapples on this street corner?
• What would he do with the money he has earned? Would he spend it or save it? What would this boy save his money for?
• Has this boy had any education on the importance of financial management? If so, where? What did he remember?

I am assuming that this boy has never been exposed to any financial management training or seminars on why and how financial planning is critical to income security. I wondered how this boy’s life would be different if he had been introduced and had implemented basic financial management concepts into his daily life. Granted, I will never know the full extent of his financial knowledge but it still leads me to wonder how his life could be different if he had this knowledge.

I have spent the past two weeks in Dar es Salaam with the 2Seeds Korogwe and Kariakoo teams working on meeting with NGOs to gain advice on how to run effective trainings. Every meeting, we heard the need and desire by Tanzanians (both rural and urban) to learn how to manage their finances. Many of these NGOs believe that there are business solutions to solve poverty and it is through teaching good money practices and business skills that Tanzanians will be able to create income security for themselves.

It is one thing to talk about the need for financial management training and another to pass this boy on the street who– I feel confident– with a bit of business knowledge has the potential to grow into a great pineapple seller. As I watched this boy, I thought again back to the farmers in Bungu and their wants and needs. I was humbled again to realize how connected these worlds are and that the knowledge of finances, balance sheets, income statements, budgeting, cash flow and systems of credit are vital to all people, including Americans (and recent college graduates like myself). I am excited to be working on a curriculum that will bring knowledge on financial management, as well as, other topics to farmers who can and will benefit from this knowledge.

A Global Look at Eating Local

Kibaoni on Mondays and Fridays explodes with fresh tomatoes, all brilliant red, though all with some minor little blemish or bruise—500 for a fungu, 200 for a smaller fungu. We’ve written before on the scene that is Kibaoni market, how alive it is, how many people there are. But as many buyers as there are cycling through, there are still more tomatoes from the many mamas selling. Basic principles of supply and demand tell us if a market is oversaturated with nyanya, prices will be low. Bungu farmers are looking for other places to sell, whether it be another soko, big hotels and restaurants in Dar-es-Salaam, or export companies. As they search for these outlets, they are getting further and further from home, or at least their produce is. The most recent attempt at selling elsewhere involves contract growing for an export company, HomeVeg in Arusha, that supplies grocery stores around Europe.

Contrast such attempts with the current “Eat Local” movement going around in the States and the rest of the world, in which we push to know where our food is coming from and strive to make that somewhere at least in the same state, if not somewhere you can drive to and feel the rich dirt beneath your feet yourself. Eating local is great for local farmers and food producers in the developed world and for the nutritional education of developed world consumers, who tend towards more processed foods and less healthful produce, as well. But it is bad news for rural farmers like those in Bungu. Outside markets are the shining light at the end of their poverty tunnel. If everyone in the States, in the western world, even in Tanzania began eating local only, where would our farmers have to sell? Around Bungu? They already are, and this is how they have run into such problems of market access, because everyone farms here and nobody buys food. This is true selling around the Korogwe district, the Tanga region, and even Tanzania as a whole country. We are a country of farmers here, with not enough non-farmers around to buy our crops, our main sources of income*.

Part of it is that Tanzania needs to provide more jobs within industrial and service sectors. This actually creates a bigger local market for agricultural products. But part of it too is understanding the full glory of globalization: that sellers can expand their markets to around the world, and that buyers have access to products they wouldn’t find around them otherwise, like a pineapple in the Chicago winter. Eating local, while a commendable dietary practice to incorporate into our eating habits, looks very different from this side of the ocean, and in this part of the world.

 

*Tanzania is a diverse country, up and coming. It would be wrong to stereotype it as a poor backwater of farmers and ignore the educated classes centered in the bigger cities. My point is, exaggerated for sake of argument, that Tanzania is still overwhelmingly comprised of people who farm their own food, and not enough of those who need to buy and can form local markets around the country side.

2012 Calendar

It’s that time of year again: new year, new calendar. Support us, while keeping track of all your daily duties (AND, get your breath blown away by some amazing photos– it’s a 3 for 1 deal!) with a 2Seeds calendar. For more details, visit The Bungu Project facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/bunguproject) or email bunguproject@gmail.com.

Choices

When I started college at UGA I immediately began looking for the best coffee shops in town. I had the luxury of trying different places, choosing black coffee or a latte, and determining which of the coffee shops was the best fit for me.

My junior year of college I started interning at a small coffee roasting business in Athens called 1000 Faces Coffee. One of the owners, Ben, believes strongly in allowing people to explore different sectors of the company before picking a focused area to work and learn. I was curious about the way coffee was harvested, processed, and transported to consumers.  My time there was spent learning about various coffee sourcing regions as well as different processing methods.

The majority of regions I researched had large operations with machines to aid in processing coffee from cherry to bean. That is the case for cooperatives and larger producers. What about a single mzee (elder man) in Bungu trying to make his living off of coffee?

That story looks very different. I was at the Bungu Tea Small Holders Cooperative office yesterday when an mzee brought in a sack of coffee beans. He had carried them on his head and walked about an hour to the office. He spread his sack of coffee out on a raised mesh table for sorting (and by sorting I mean him, a woman named Eva, and myself picking through and discarding the beans that didn’t look up to par.) This incredibly imprecise method of sorting will ideally increase the value of the beans at the Moshi market auction.

Regardless of the quality though, he received 2500 Tanzanian shillings for 1 kilogram of coffee, about $1.5. His 16kg brought him in 40,000TSH, $25.

This man has no other option. He can only sell to the Tea Small Holders Cooperative. There are no competing buyers who will offer him a higher price. The coop is it.

I was struck by the differences on each end of this cycle. I have now seen the poor limited farmer who must pulp by hand to create the final bean. He can only sell to one place. He is the epitome of a “price taker.” I have also seen 60kg bags of green coffee beans arrive in Athens, Georgia from Africa. The beans are then roasted and sold to local coffee shops that make delightful drinks for the final consumer. The consumers have choices, unlike the mzee.

I think what alarmed me most about this experience was how much this man was stuck. As consumers, we are able to pick and choose what quality of coffee we want based on how much we are willing to pay. This man, however, regardless of his quality, is trapped. There are no competing buyers in Bungu, and he may not have the skill set—or more importantly in Tanzania, the network—needed to access a different market.

We are trying to mitigate that reality in Bungu. People deserve to be educated on other options so they can then use their freedom of choice to decide what is best for them. No one deserves to be trapped into a single market having to take whatever price is offered. Our hope is that the people of Bungu will understand their options and make the most educated choice.

So, the next time you choose your cup of coffee take a second to do two things.

1)   Ask which country your coffee is from and thank the farmers there

2)   Be thankful that you have choices.

By Bungu, For Bungu

Guess what? We have picked a project! It is a wonderful, beautiful, exciting, unnerving experience. I remember last summer trying to tell people back home the 2Seeds model and the value in working in partnership with the community to develop a project. This is very different than the status quo of NGOs that go somewhere, implement a project and then leave. Now, we have a project that reflects the wants and needs of the Bungu community. There is no way to accurately articulate the time, energy and work that has gone into this decision via a blog post, but trust me we have worked hard and this is going to be a  spectacular project.

I have spent the past week going to Ngulu and assessing fields as well as talking with farmers about the project. It is encouraging and melts my heart every time I see their face light up when we talk about the possibility of learning how to get to markets. I explain that my job is to help Bungu create a project that will work to develop Bungu. This is a project that is by Bungu for Bungu. One of the challenges that we will face is how to pick the first people and what this group will look like. Bungu is definitely not hard up for finding hard working, dedicated, smart, innovative and creative people. It will be difficult though to find just the right people to not only work with us, but to also work with each other.

I am excited and confident in our design of the project because it hits on many aspects that we and the community think are important. We are providing interactive, hands-on trainings that will get at many different learning styles. Personally, I am a HUGE fan of interactive learning which I think stems back to my days working for the University of Minnesota 4-H Extension Service. We then are going to provide an opportunity for them to practice what they have learned in the classroom. I am thrilled about the opportunity to introduce Bungu farmers to markets that they have only heard of or maybe not even that much.  We have also woven in a system that encourages everyone to work collaboratively together to create a network on Bungu farmers that can reach great market potential.

The past few weeks have been busy and I am sure that the upcoming weeks are going to be even busier. It is great to wake up every morning tired but a good tired. Every morning when I wake up to the sun shining through my window and the cool mountain breeze, I am rejuvenated with the thought that Pei, Abby and I have the greatest privilege to work with Bungu to create a project that is wonderful and going to change Bungu for many years.