On est heureux avec peu

Life in Tana is becoming more comfortable all the time. As I get used to the energy of the city I am no longer overwhelmed by the smell, sound, and speed of activity. Compounded daily, however, urban life takes its toll on my senses and last weekend I was lucky enough to be offered an escape.

Three of us took a cotton candy pink Clio eastbound in search of greener hills and cleaner air. Our packs filled with old clothes, batteries, rice and beans, we walked about 20km through every colour and texture of mud, stopping to chat and play at villages along the way. On the trail I experienced my first thigh-deep river crossing, a welcome challenge after thigh deep mud. I laugh to think that I used to take my shoes off to cross the Kananasks’ pristine creeks.

The secondary purpose of our trip was to check up on the status of Ambodolangy, a village that had welcomed an American researcher a few years ago. Jacques had worked on irrigation systems for the rice fields and the only way to get an update was to walk in and see for ourselves. As it turns out, the systems are still in place but without capital for seeds, a lot of land remains uncultivated.

The village chief welcomed us with food and drink (which is of course just fancy talk for rice and rice water) and the chief’s son made room for us to sleep in his family’s home. We were eight plus chickens, a rooster and a cat in the bamboo hut, warmed by each other’s company and a small fire. Two girls treated us to a concert of traditional songs, and dozens gathered as we led the card game Uno.

After trading much of our wares for woven raphia mats, we said goodbyes and walked back to the road. Along the way, muddy wet and cold, we were welcomed in for a sugar cane coffee and boiled manioc, which fueled us for the last leg. Back at the main road, villagers laughed at our muddiness, but were grateful when we agreed to take a few sick kids to the hospital which was on our way.

When I reread my account of a great weekend in the hills, I realize that my experience is not unique and I suppose this is a good thing. Cross-cultural linkages are formed all the time, and there will always be good travel karma out there. Every community has its searchers and its open doors. I feel exceptionally privileged to have benefited from this reality once again, and I open my door to he or she that comes my way.

What's in season in Ambodolangy: Bananas

Theft

July, Anstohihy

Last night, a thief broke into our house and stole my co-worker’s laptop from the room that I was sleeping in. I don’t know how I managed to sleep through that kind of excitement, but I did. Now we are being much more vigilant with our behaviour. The sensation that I am made of money is heightened, and I can’t help but feel like I was the beacon of light that told the thief our house was a good bet. Safety meetings are no longer about coffee and doughnuts- they are critical to the success of our business and the security of our people.

(What's in season: oranges, bananas)

Loan Disbursement Day

July 25, 2007

It’s disbursement day in Mandritsara. Clients have come a long way for this, and they’ve been waiting outside since early morning. Most are dressed up, not quite as fancy as Sunday, but more than typical Tuesday-wear. All have brought their guarantor along, which means that two people are forgoing their income generating activity to be here. This town is literally at the end of the road. Having now made the multi-day trek myself, I have a renewed understanding of what it means to be remote. I also understand quite well why traditional banks have always ignored the region: They probably couldn’t find a single client to fit their rigid requirements.

Marceline is finally called by the cashier. At the same moment, she is also called upon by her hungry baby. Not thinking twice, she whips out her breast and nurses her daughter with one arm, while signing the contract and counting money with another. In Mada's conventional banks, such multi-tasking would never be tolerated, assuming she was allowed in the door at all.

She appears to be signing a loan agreement, but it is so much more. This is the first time a financial agency has ever extended its hand toward her. The affirmation of her trustworthiness, morality and business acumen has been built by endorsements coming from her own community. It looks like a loan, but it really the preservation of a woman’s dignity, the support of a mother and family, and the launching of a business that will serve a community in desperate need.

( For my food friends:
What's in season? Sakou, oranges, bananas)

Rice Rice Everywhere

July 19, 2007

Over the past few days, I have taken advantage of the fact that I straddle two Aga Khan Development Network organizations to learn more about how the network operates in the Sofia region of Madagascar.

When I first approached the Aga Khan Foundation in Antsohihy about visiting their field projects, I was met with mild resistance. “You work for PAMF (The First Microfinance Agency). Why do you care about AKF’s work here?” I explain that while I am a micro-finance intern, I am here on an AKF-Canada program, and am interested in all of the development projects in the area. “Okay, so why won’t the micro-finance people accept our certificates as collateral for a loan?” I am getting used to smiles and avoidance, and the direct hit catches me off guard.

The tension that exists between the two organizations is expected and healthy. AKF operates a technical assistance program in the region that aims to increase farmers’ rice yields. PAMF runs a very new micro-finance institution that is terrified of losing its shirt over bad loans during its start-up phase. One prioritizes social, the other financial. Despite this, their high-level mission is the same: serve humanity by providing tools for the poor to help themselves.

I return to the PAMF office and start asking (probably too many) questions. Unsatisfied and even more curious than before, I score an invitation to attend an AKF field session less than an hour’s drive away. However, timing is such that I can’t go by myself- the whole mission team has to come with me. I am now taking a full half day of four people’s time for my pet project.

The field session is about to begin when we arrive at the big tree in the village (Randy said that all important things happen around the big tree in the village. I thought he was being poetic, but I guess not). The interpreters have arrived in tandem on an old motorcycle, with flipchart paper and seed samples strapped to the back. Women and children are sitting on mats on one side; the men are on benches. My presence causes a minor stir, but after the requisite photos and baby kisses, I fade from center stage.

The session is very participatory. Both women and men contribute to the discussion on weed management, and after an hour or so the 40 members descend to the test plots to put what they’ve learned to practice. We stand on the dirt walkways while turns are taken trying out the equipment, gathering and sorting weeds, and spreading urea. AKF provides the amount of seed and fertilizer necessary for the sample plots, and sells these same goods in larger quantities if the farmers decide to use the new practices on a broad scale.

In the end, my co-workers admitted that the AKF operations seemed better and more organized than they expected, and even expressed interest in checking out other sessions if time permits. The facilitators welcomed PAMF’s curiosity and happily answered questions. While the farmers might still not yet qualify for loans from PAMF, their activities are better understood. It is likely that as PAMF’s portfolio grows and riskier loans are permitted, these farmers will be first in line, ready to pitch their case to the loan officer.

I suspect that this field trip wouldn’t have happened for a long time if I hadn’t requested it, and in a small way contributed to strengthening the relationship between two supposedly allied agencies.

I could go on about all this, but the rolling black out just hit our neighbourhood. Candles are being passed around so that we can keep working, but I must preserve laptop power. Love, peace, patience!

Zebu in the sky with diamonds

Riding at night, I bump bump bump along with one eye on the road and another in sky, following a celestial map to Antsohihy. I am not relaxed- the road is just too bumpy, but I am at ease. I have come to trust Zou on these night time treks. My mind starts slipping toward a state of highways hypnosis until all I see is stars, low in the sky....

Zou slams on the breaks and kills the lights. We are surrounded by 100 zebus, each pair of eyes piercing my daze. As they trundle past, we share a few laughs about the power shift that has just occurred. In the day, Zou blasts his horn and screams past the two wheeled carts, but at night, our quatre-quatre surrenders to the zebu.