Mobility

Exhibit at the National Museum in Nairobi.

Many find it difficult not to be condescending about Africa. Some might argue that referring to 54 diverse countries with thousands of cultures as “Africa” alone is demeaning, and yet it happens every day (just look at my blog address.) Footage of kids with big bellies and stories of corruption seem to be the only stories to travel across the ocean, and they are typically only salvaged by some agency telling the world not to worry, they’re working on it. No, I am not immune. I’ve been known to lament the inefficiency of “Africa” while sitting in Nairobi’s unbearable congestion or one of Accra’s power outages. At the same time, I feel fortunate to tell a story that I hope will travel across these borders and demonstrate that “Africa” is indeed a place of innovation and hope.

Nairobi is one of the continent’s star children: the one who may place third in the spelling bee but won’t mind because she has a good shot at winning the science fair competition. The region serves as a lab for innovative ideas and the microfinance sector here is a great example. Like Ghana, each MFI in this region has varying models of delivery and a unique portfolio of products. Unlike Ghana, every MFI in this region has a website. Is this a key indicator of success? Surely not, but it indicates that microfinance is a visible and competitive industry here. Microfinance institutions here are not asking “what can we do?”, but “how can we do more?” For them, it’s not just about lending money. It’s about finding ways for that money to create things that generate a larger return for the community. Two trends have emerged here to ensure that microfinance is doing just that: mobile services and partnerships.

Nairobi's city centre.

Millions of Kenyans are able to hold, send and collect money with their mobile phone through Mpesa – can you do that where you live? An article in the Guardian recently highlighted how mobile money is an impressive force for good. One Kenyan MFI I met with just received an award for its innovative use of mobile services - quite a feat, considering their official launch isn’t until this Friday. Every MFI I’ve met wants to work towards providing mobile solutions to those who need it most – the farmers, the entrepreneurs, and the mothers who work hard every day to improve their livelihoods.

Directors of MFIs here also know that the greatest impact is made in tandem with focused expertise. One microfinance institution partners with an agricultural agency to make sure that their products are transformational for their farmer customers. Staff at many Kenyan MFIs are trained to deliver financial literacy tools to clients, frequently a requirement for microloans. My assignment here has been to partner MFIs with professional expertise from the global private sector and not surprisingly, my job has been easy. Companies, educational institutions and development agencies recognize the pivotal role that MFIs play in increasing income generation and improving the quality of life for Kenyans living on less than a $1 a day, and they’re eager to take part.

Sunrise at Nairobi National Park

I can’t forget that this revolution is taking place less than 300 miles away from a record famine. With foresight, planning and investment, these tragedies in “Africa” can be avoided.  The magic of microfinance is that it grants citizens the capability to make a difference for themselves. Things are moving fast here, and it’s been a pleasure to help establish partnerships to catalyze that movement. In this day and age, I think access to financial services is a human right. A big thank you to the Grameen Foundation for allowing me to help us get one step closer to ensuring that Africa's poor, in all their diversity, can exercise that right.

The New Adventures of Old Tamale

On the road to Tamale

I’ve been counting down the days to this.  Not that thunderstorms, tigernut cocktails and weekend stays at oceanside eco lodges haven’t kept me busy – my stay in Ghana has been a fascinating combination of experiences both new (opening a coconut with a machete) and surprisingly normal (watching too many episodes of The New Adventures of Old Christine while dogsitting for a friend).  But I’m not here just to drive around with locals to chop bars with dancehall music blaring out the open windows to join in the cacophony of Accra streets.  Certainly part of the fun, but not the goal.

I’ve been talking up the Bankers without Borders program to MFIs across Accra, and this is finally my chance to watch it in action.  The Grameen Foundation asked me to shadow a BwB project for a partner MFI called Grameen Ghana in the northern city of Tamale (surprisingly no affiliation despite the shared namesake.)  A volunteer from an investment bank in NYC, Noah, is delivering training on a new financial model over a 4-day assignment.  This is only the second time this Grameen Foundation model has been passed on to another MFI, but BwB hopes this will eventually lead to a standard for financial projections across the industry.

Donkey by the Swimming Pool -
 now the working title of my first novel.

My role on the project varies depending on who you talk to.  BwB would like me to evaluate the project from both volunteer and client perspectives with an objective third eye.  Not having a chance to introduce myself during the kick-off meeting with the MFI, however, gave the director the opportunity to task me with a different role.  “And Noah has brought this pretty woman”, he announced to the team, “so everything we do will be prettier”.  Challenge accepted.

Tamale is a wonderland of NGOs, motorbikes and donkeys.  Okay, I’ve just seen the one donkey, but stumbling upon him and a massive turkey lounging near the swimming pool as I walked to my “hotel room” was noteworthy.  Londoners and New Yorkers would immediately understand what it’s like to leave the stress of Accra and feel the welcoming arms of the countryside.  The sky is bigger, the air easier to breathe, the day easier to enjoy.  The Northern region is predominantly Muslim and host to over 30 different ethnic groups, yet Tamale easily maintains the friendly and laidback life so characteristic of Ghana.

Four days is a short amount of time for a complex project like this, especially when the employees gleaned that Noah is a goldmine of information and asked him question after question about Excel.  While Noah was showing them a few shortcuts, I felt like I was at a party watching the popular guy do card tricks. You really don't hear “oohs” and “aahs” or laughter during Excel presentations at home. Early tomorrow morning we will travel three hours north to Bimbilla to meet with Grameen Ghana borrowers in the field.  Apparently the distance is only an hour’s drive, but the potholes really slow you down.  It will undoubtedly be an incredible day, even if my butt is bruised at the end of it.

As I write this, I’m watching the donkey from my little hut.  He’s using one of the pool umbrellas to scratch his head, making it look a bit like he’s wearing the umbrella as a hat.  It’s 5:30 in the morning, the sun is coming up and I can hear trucks and motorbikes passing by on the road from Kumasi.  I keep asking myself: in a few weeks’ time, will I believe I was ever here?

Mosquito bites: Still in the twenties.  Got a nice fresh set of 9 up and down my back.   Seems I'm single-handedly feeding the population here.

Waiting 10 hours for the flight to take off was surprisingly fun.

Best "only in Ghana: sight this week:  I showed up for my Antrak flight to Tamale at 4:30am as I was warned that the 6am departure could actually mean 5:30 (perpetually late Ghanaians manage to get flights off the ground EARLY??).  Sat in the departure lounge until about 5:30 when we were all shuffled through security (the pat down was so thorough I blushed).  After about half an hour in the gate, a man in a neon vest announced to the group that the flight had been delayed until about 1pm because of storms in Tamale.  Noah and I headed back to town, got some breakfast, went to the mall, and got back to the airport around noon.  We had a quick beer at the airport bar but made sure to get back to the gate in time for departure. An hour passed in the departure lounge. Then another.  Around 2:30pm, like sweaty cattle, we all made our way through security to the gate.  And sat for another hour.  Finally around 4pm, almost 12 hours after the departure time, we took off.  The most amazing thing about this whole process is that apart from the announcement I mentioned, not a word was said.  Noah and I were cued only by the sudden rush of people from one place to another.  How did they know?  What did I miss?  The views from the flight, however, were stunning.  Felt like I was in the back of Denys Finch Hatton's plane, looking down on the glorious greenery.