Microfinance in action

Microfinance in action
Originally uploaded by jakebarne

is this woman:

A) Wondering about the best way to offset her flight emissions after the weekend in NY
B) Considering the merits of organic Kohlrabi or a 'Howie's' eco-friendly skateboarding hoody at GBP195
C) Fed up with being stereotyped by people who don't have a clue about trying to live on $1 per day
D) Contributing to a Self-Help Group micro-credit plan meeting

answers by email only please.

No prizes.

The lack of posting reflects a lack of time as opposed to lack of things to say. The internship is in full flow and the workload is easily enough to work 7 days a week, which I am doing.

Today I went for breakfast to the same hotel where, as I sat by a lobby pond of Koi Carp the other week I suddenly had my first nosebleed in a good few years. This time, although the food was good, the staff attentive and I got a much needed haircut the same edge of the unexpected and the unsettling crept in. It sounds weird but the toilet bowl swirled menacingly when I flushed it. I mean really! The other surprise was the amount of dust ingrained into my neck, scalp and hair from the 6 day field trip last week. When I got a haircut the guy sprayed water mist and rubbed my head down with a towel after the cut and I swear the towel was covered in grime. I had been washing of course, but this stuff is fine grained and had just got everywhere. It was very embarrassing. I don't normally burble excuses to strangers, but there I was...

What else? The work has been good if demanding. I am about to go to the villages in the south of the state again to conduct the research which I piloted last week. Should be doable in 6 days, if a little tight. I also did a short report for the NGO on the pilot of a small loan scheme dedicated to education funding loans. The idea is to use the SHG framework to supply credit for this specific purpose to rural communities. Everyone wants it to happen. Parents know desperately that education is the key to economic autonomy and are quite prepared to sacrifice almost everything to make sure their children get good schooling and more. However the route to a sustainable and affordable solution, necessarily involving the local banks, is not clear. The pilot was too small and rudimentary to draw many conclusions. I have to recommend a way forward.

Before leaving for the field trip on Wednesday night I need to finish a redraft of the NGO's strategic plan, and also complete the accompanying Action Plan. This is all very well, and I am of course receiving contributions from all departments, but the original document isn't very well written and time is tight. We need to give it to a senior manager from a large UK consultancy firm who is coming to do an organisational review (free) for 3 weeks from Nov 27. She will need to make sense of it and then assess if the NGO is up to the task or not. My feeling is that, yes it is, but the structure of the organisation needs to change and become more process driven rather than being so conventionally department oriented. But what do I know....I'm short of at least 1, possibly 2, degrees and about 5 years professional experience with regards such decisions.

But that is what happens when you leave the first career, which was unhealthy, to pursue a second on the other side of the world which itself ends up being unsuitable for a host of other reasons. I see that I am very much living a pattern of geographical and metier migration the crystallisation of which is unforeseeable and perhaps uncertain. Its hard for some people to reconcile such an outcome with an apparent bias from the start towards some kind of relatively conventional path, even if the route looked poorly marked at points. And in some ways it is conventional - dully so.

Felt another way I remind myself that each life is lived entirely differently to all others, when experienced personally, and our ability to really empathise and understand others is severely hampered by our conditioning and the power of the forces acting invisibly and unperceived on our lives. Forces on a grand scale, like climate change, and on a minutely personal level, like hormonal fluctuations, which we take so for granted, are in fact the things which in one way unite us and would seem to pull us together while at the same time they inexorably divide and insulate us from one another.

A lot of the dissonance in perspective between people, family members, friends, colleagues, is there because of a fundamental distinction in understanding; between those who at root feel that we can know what we do and why, and those who perceive a reality where such certainty of knowledge seems illusory and deceptive. This distinction draws people apart in another way too because it goes to the very heart of answering questions about personal identity. If you strip away work, friends and relatives individuals are immediately faced with a huge gap in self-understanding, even self acceptance. For most people this would seem to be a crisis of sorts. Even removing one of these elements can provoke extreme anxiety. Witness the number of us who in reality shudder at the thought of more than a couple of weeks off work, although it is never admitted (I hasten to add that I am not in this camp!).

Whichever way we see the world we are forced to live with an incipient knowledge of uncertainty and illusion, or put another way, boundless possibility and the tantalising chance of clarity. Each optic can be held close to the heart, either with love or a tight, tight grasp.

Settled in here now - and the weather has cooled off nicely. Working on editing the (overdue) annual report and also on a couple of proposals for small Impact Assessment studies while I am here.

I heard from several people that Hyderabad has the highest quality of life of any major Indian metropolitan area. True, it doesn't stink really and there is not too much begging and destitution visible. It doesn't have any pavements though, so walking around can get you regular clips round the elbow or ear from passing rickshaws.

I am installed in some style in fact on the very top of a 5 storey apartment block with a lovely room and ensuite which is part of, but separate from, where my boss and his family live. This is good because Banjara Hills rents are exhorbitant. As I am only really renting a room I get a reasonable rate - plus Mrs R makes breakfast for me every day which I get to enjoy with the Boss and his two cute kids.

I heard there is a staff meeting this week. I thought 'couple of hours on Wednesday'. Think again. We are all going to the residential training centre, 2 hours drive away, for 3 entire days from Thursday! One of my fellow spectators at the 4th Military World Games on Saturday remarked, as we watched the 84kg division semi-final between North Korea and the USA, that Indians don't necessarily excel at sport. This is mainly because in a country where so many still struggle to feed themselves priorities dont tend to lie in the 'making yourself a better person' column. Rather they sit firmly in the 'making and keeping yourself a person' category. So entertainment more usually focuses on food and, of course, talking.

All of which makes me look forward with (shall we say) interest to the next few days.

Micro Finance, Mega Bucks

Nearby the plush houses...
Originally uploaded by jakebarne

As I sit here at APMAS (Andhra Pradesh Womens' Self Help Society) editing their annual report whilst trying to keep up with the inevitable deluge of acronyms for which the NGO sector is famous, but also keeping an eye as ever on world events, I noticed this article in the FT about the Microfinance sector. It brought to mind a discussion I had with one of my colleagues here yesterday. My question was could the current credit squeeze, or something like it in the future, impact borrowers within Self Help Groups (SHGs) here in India? The answer seems to be no. For the moment. This is because, while private sector funding is undoubtedly sizable as a portion of total capital inflows to the sector, much of the seed capital available for institution building and outright lending within the sector comes from NGOs or state owned lenders. The hope for the future, and in a few cases the reality now, is that these institutions, which bridge the gap between major lenders and the small SHGs, are self sustaining both managerially and financially. The FT article gets to the very heart of the issue by asking if a project which began as poverty alleviation - in other words a Social Capital building/aid exercise - can really remain true to its original aims if corporations (and even financial 'institutions' like hedge funds) begin to become a part of the sector infrastructure. In a future where it is hoped by some, and perhaps feared by others, that lenders like Venture Capitalists and other speculators are the primary source of capital to such a sector I think the likelihood of the vicissitudes of global capital markets directly, and harshly, impacting these extremely poor sectors of the population is high. Just because they can make a profit doesn't entitle these organisations to take over. That would be like confusing development with growth all over again.

Butter and Mashed Bananas

Metropole
Originally uploaded by jakebarne

OK so now I'm in Hyderabad/Cyberabad. Staying in Banjara Hills, the wealthy bit replete with huge MALL, supermarket which would not be at all out of place in St John's Wood, Tommy Hilfiger shop and many-a-Merc swooshing about. Ya still got ya one stumped beggars hanging around and seeming whole families living under bus shelters at the foot of the stairs to the MALL mind.

Today I am traipsing around the centre of Hyd. May not do it again tho as there is even less charm than in Bangalore to this central area. Add to that the tetchy nature of the Urdu speaking community here, mid Ramadan, and you have one seething sunny sooty and very noisy city.

Got talking to Rajid at my hotel last night, a recruiter here for a few days who began trying to get me a job as an economic consultant until I pointed out that I know very little about India's economy and only a little more about economics. That said he got out the laptop and gave me a ppt presentation on Bihar, the poorest state in India where per capita GDP is just over Rs6400 PER YEAR and almost 20% of household heads have zero education. Add in the fact that the economy is 80% rural, with attendant massive year on year growth variation, and realise that 50% of the roads are unsealed and you have a kind of super-under developed state. All fairly common knowledge I'm sure. To put some of that in perspective though, Indian GDP per capita for the whole country is only Rs25000 per year. That's my budget per month.

After my customary wander around this latest city today I am going to see Butter and Mashed Banana at the Ravindra Bharathi Theatre ("...almost a landmark"). This is thanks to S, one of my yoga classmates from Mysore, who is a theatre professional and knows lots of folk from that sphere in India. I just gotta get to the theatre and 'ask for Rohini' to get my seat

Colonel Yogi and Plate Tectonics

'Trample the weak. Hurdle the dead.'

This is the latest in a series of T shirt slogans which, over the years, have caught my eye. Reminds me of a birthday present given to a friend of mine in London one year - an inspirational bit of comic-book style illustration, clearly modelled on Fantastic Four type stuff - with the attention grabbing 'I will take down all who stand before me'.

Nothing, however, has yet topped my all time favourite, spotted on the streets of Dayton, Ohio, of all places back in 1993. 'Stop Plate Tectonics' could only have manifested in a university town seriously dedicated to intoxication of various kinds. It is perhaps the most ironic statement I will ever come across. I still savour it.

On another note, I just listened to Nirvana while reading an interview with Margaret Thatcher from 1971 in the Guardian. Such seemingly incongruent and contrasting bedfellows made for a surprisingly complete experience. A woman the same age as the Queen, who came to Parliament in 1959 and became the first ever female leader of a Western nation, tussling with a journalist wearing a sports jacket and tie, backed by a band who were born out of economic alienation and rage inspired by hopelessness; a lack of hope bestowed from the mast of an economic doctrine to which the then Education Secretary would later firmly nail her colours.

On the subject of Facebook - I am thoroughly sick of and repulsed by the whole thing now and have deleted my profile. Ha! Something with such a rapid rise can have only one way to go. Jaldi jaldi!

That ole identity thing

Sometimes this stuff can be slippery right? There I am just browsing the newspapers online and this article unexpectedly gave me a jolt - a part of me actually cares whether or not the All Blacks win the world cup rugby in France. This is less about rugby of course and more about the whole concept of where I feel home is. Looks like I'm split.

I can imagine barracking for the ABs, going nuts as they scrap near the tryline in the last five minutes of a final where they need a converted try to take the prize - they would deserve it; they play great rugby, still, even though we know they can be beaten like everyone else. There is still something special about the team and what it represents. That's not to say that Kiwis are enamoured with their number 1 national icon in the way they once were. Living the rugby of the 50s, 60s and 70s as it happened, fully aware of the aura and mystique the teams embodied in the amateur era, and watching the pros grind out results and star performances for 6 figure compensation are night and day in many ways. In an country once a byword for egalitarianism the concept has been hollowed out and replaced by deunionised free markets. Commercialism may attempt to conflate pride, passion and raw determination with digital broadcast revenues but it always rings hollow - perhaps particularly so when commentators like Murray Mexted get in on the act. We are left then with mere remnants of emotional ties to things like sports teams in such cultural environments. These attachments run deep though and if push comes to shove, and I can find a TV to watch, I will lap up the coming matches.

The tricky bit comes though if England manage an (unlikely) face off with the ABs. I still enjoy the novelty of glimpsing my two passports when I reach into the money belt securely stashed at home here but think little about what they represent, as emblems of belonging, tribal affiliation, right of entry and sanctuary, who I am. A NZ friend of mine recently joked that just because I hold a NZ passport doesn't mean I'm a kiwi - but of course it does. So who would I cheer for in a crunch match? It's finely balanced and I qualify my answer by saying that it pertains solely to the narrow context of international rugby; whoever plays the best rugby. Of course this is likely to be the ABs. Doesn't mean to say I'm about to throw away that slightly ragged, scuffed and well travelled maroon book.

dateline Mysore

I am on the verge of buying a really nice camera - in the meantime here are a few photos of just prior to leaving NZ - a domestic view of Wellington - and a flavour of the road here on a trip out to see nature...cows and fruit truck carnage.

Fag end of the mangos

I feel fortunate to have caught the very end of the mango season. Anyone who knows me may recollect that they are my favourite fruit, indeed along with Teriyaki Tuna steak they are my favourite food of all. If I had to live on just two things those would do fine.

There are lots of varieties to choose from - over 270 apparently - and there are even mango festivals to be witnessed. This is after all the native place of the mango. I wondered out loud if one might find the kind of festival where sloshing around in the pulp, perhaps clad only in a dhoti, would be the form. Of course someone immediately said that to do so in a country where millions barely survive might not be exactly ethical. Yawn.

Feels good to be back here in booming yet somehow relatively laid back Mysore. They are putting in an airport here as we speak and the place is moving on apace with all available land being built on at frantic speed. New restaurants and supermarkets have opened all over the place and the traffic is noticeably thicker even compared to 8 months ago. So is the pollution.

I chatted with P in Wellington about the concept of off setting one's carbon emissions and then the conversation meandered onto giving money to beggars in India. Although previously I have never done this anywhere, this time I am making an exception. We talked about what beggars might do with their money and concluded that it is up to them of course. They can either use it to get absolutely blotto - like the guy I stood next to for a while yesterday at a bus stop in town who was slumped, perhaps ominously, in the recovery position on the smooth cement of the shelter; he was just breathing, though not enough to disturb the flies that peppered his grubby red t shirt and filthy beige trousers which fell almost open around his hips. I had seen him before, in much the same state, though slumped in the middle of the road, last year. Another option for the revenue stream is of course to pay their 'protectors' of which I'm sure there are many here. Finally I thought of the old lady with 3 fingers who crouched almost invisible in a corner of a stair well leading to the dentist a friend of mine used last year. As you pass the fingers they emerge from the half light and if you glance up an impression of dusty blue cloth wrapped around a tired, old and hungry face can prick the conscience. Maybe she can buy Rs10 of carbon offset.

I am currently about 50% deaf. Mainly thanks to the effects of a very clogged up face. Wellington had a revolting cold going around and I seem to have been contaminated - damned cities. After two flights yesterday, from Napier then Auckland to Sydney, my Eustachian tubes simply cannot stand the heat.

Just to pile on the pressure my shoulder is still sore as from aikido - torn ligament in the AC joint - which means that all strong exertion of the shoulder is OUT for another month.

So, with a cold and a sore shoulder I am still very happy to be on my travels - I enjoyed Wellington even though it was cold and wet; there be life! - and waking up on a Sydney morning never seems to lose its charm. Catching up with R and T who have a very cute new baby, Lily, and today having lunch with Tara and a clairvoyant friend of hers - maybe I should try and find out if 'anyone' has advice for my trip to India.