"Not-so Fair-Trade" Coffee

Mt. Elgon (and the foothills where I live) is a coffee growing region - 100% Arabica. The picture here is a coffee plant. Inside the purple things you see are coffee beans. Each of these contains two beans. It is grown by small, local farmers and sold after being harvested, husked, fermented, dried, and washed. It takes a lot of time and effort to go through the process from a seedling to a dried bean.

During October, the streets are lined with farmers drying their beans and preparing to sell them. Most locals need the money so bad that they sell them almost immediately for a little over a dollar per kilo (about 50 cents per pound). If they just wait six months until March, they can sell for at least double that, depending on the quality. Generally, the beans are sold in October or November and the money is spent by January. If financial management were better, the same crop could bring in twice the money and the same farmer could live off of it for twice as long. After a spending few hours here, it was obvious that some kind of "bridge financing mechanism" or something of the sort needs to be created in order to get higher prices for the farmers. One local man simply buys up about 10,000 kg per year (still less than 20% of the area's coffee), holds on to it, and sells it in March. That's great for him, but it doesn't spread the wealth.

As a pilot and as a small fundraiser for the local men's health group to provide basic health needs (like blankets for remote households in the mountains or mosquito nets to prevent malaria), I'll be loaning a little over $100 to buy about 200 lbs of coffee which should in theory sell in March for $200 or so. I'll just get my money back and give the proceeds to the men's health group. This kind of return would be a dream for a wall street investor (percentage-wise, not dollars), but this kind of dilemma isn't meant to be solved by investors seeking huge returns. Even if the farmer could borrow at an annual rate of 20%, their cost would only be 10% on a six month term and their coffee income would still almost double.

For a coffee growing region to live in poverty like this is shocking. We always see Fair Trade labels in Starbucks, but I'm seeing first hand that coffee farmers are flat broke. Though it doesn't relate directly to my job at the health center, my FIMRC supports a comprehensive aproach to community development and they're more than willing to have me allocate some time to this kind of activity.

A couple of days ago, I was on a motorcycle boda and passed a peace corps volunteer a couple of miles away who I talked to only long enough to learn that he decided to leave this area due to some problems he was facing. Yesterday, I met his local counterpart who works with our young men's health group and had been distraught that his economic development plans had slowed down with his volunteer leaving. We talked about getting together with his community and with mine to brainstorm and figure out some ways to improve the coffee supply chain. Financing is one part, but if they can improve their quality and their yield, their coffee income may enable them to take some forward steps in development.

If you'd like to make a six month loan and get a 10% return, I would give that money to our men's health group who would do what the "rich" guy in town does - buy some coffee now at 50 cents/pound and sell it in March for $1/pound. 55 cents would go back to the investor and the remaining 45 cents would be split to provide some public health essentials and to invest in the improvement of the coffee supply chain. Like I said before, this kind of model doesn't represent a long term solution because the farmers are still selling for too cheap, but it's keeping more money local, it's helping public health, and it's contributing to a longer term solution, which I'll develop with the community over the next year. If you're interested, send me an email or comment on this posting. You can either mail a check to my sister (who doesn't know about this yet) or deposit it into my Bank of America account. You'll get 110% back in March. I would actually appreciate it if you could send this link to more people who might have $100 or more to loan to this cause. Otherwise, thanks for reading and keep drinking coffee!

Forging New Paths

My first initiative is kind of a cherry on top of a recent expansion of the health clinic. It is a new path leading from the road to the health clinic. Through collaboration with David, the health clinic staff, and several higher-ups from our partner school, Arlington Academy of Hope, the plans were hashed out over the course of the week. The old path was small, had funny slopes, and was often slick and muddy... easy to fall and not ideal for sick patients or for mothers carrying sick children. A new path was ideal for me as a first project because it is simple enough, it involves a lot of interaction, it's highly visible, and people agree that it's a good idea.

Once the plans were complete, I reached out to a local character named Alex Shizense who, according to David, can "smell out work". He's lovable and endearing in that he often does work that needs to be done, but nobody asked him to do. He'll then approach multiple people and say, "look at this hard work that I've performed. My stomach is hungry." He's a nice man and I look forward to giving him odd jobs.

"Smelling" my plan for the new path, he was walking by on Friday around noon. I walked up to see him (we had met a couple of times before) and brought a local with me to be translate. Shizense speaks SOME English, but I wanted to be clear so I brought our volunteer coordinator, Peter. We worked out the details and I left to run an errand. When I came back less than an hour later, Shizense was already hacking away with a hoe, forging the new path. No contracts, not signatures, no red tape... just a plan and a man named Shizense.

The photograph above is the man himself standing proudly on day one of construction with our health center in the background

First Trip to Mbale

I took my first trip from Bumwalukani to Mbale, the closest city to our village this past Wednesday. We ran some errands, picked up some office supplies and ordered some medicine. We left everything at the pharmacy, David went on to Kampala, and I stayed in Mbale for a bit before returning to the pharmacy to get the medicine, the other items, and head back to the village. I paid a bicycle "boda" (taxi) about 25 cents to put the box on the back of his bike and walk with me to the Matatu (van/bus/taxi) park where I boarded and headed back towards the village. This is where the day got interesting...

First off, it was raining. When I got on the matatu, which generally sit three across, I was put in the far back and they were sitting FOUR across. Needless to say, it was tight. Add to the equation that I had a box of medicine about the size and weight of a microwave, plus a backpack and two other items. Even empty handed, it would have been a tight fit. The locals are used to this, and they held some of my things for me. Somehow, I managed to get situated in the middle of the back row with my box of drugs on my lap. my backpack behind my head while some kindly folks held my other things. Of course, I used my box as a head rest and fell asleep for the first leg of the hour and a half ride.

I woke up as my neighbors were getting off and more people got on.... I should mention that my village is the last stop for this matatu and that sometimes they turn around early. Needless to say, this particular matatu on this particular day turned around one village early. So here I was, stuck with more than I could carry by myself, one village away and another 10 minute walk uphill to the clinic. Luckily, one of the other matatu passengers was heading to my village, so we both got on a motorcycle "boda"... his hands full with some of my stuff, and I had the damn microwave-sized and weight box of drugs on my right shoulder like a boombox, holding on with my left hand. It had stopped raining, but the roads were muddly and slick. Challenging enough as it was, my right shoulder got so tired that I was going to drop the medicine if I had kept it on my right side, so I had to stop holding on with my other hand, throw the box on my head, and transfer the box to my left shoulder... boombox-stylie yet again. My left shoulder managed to hold out until we reached the village.

As soon as we stopped, an enterprising old villager ran up to me in bare feet and grabbed the box and started heading uphill. They've seen this routine before. They get 25 cents/trip for carrying stuff uphill to the clinic/school. So I paid the boda driver for both myself and the guy who helped me (total of 50 cents). I then had my hands full for my 10 minute walk up a muddy hill to the health clinic following Stephen as he slipped around barefoot carrying the heavy box of drugs. A solid two hours after leaving the pharmacy, dealing with rain, mud, and four different transportation methods, I made it to the clinic with some office supplies and medicine.

That's why I have my MBA, folks.... or as David put it, DESPITE the MBA, I still get to do this stuff. That's more like it.

My living arrangement

I live in a "permanent structure", of which there are few in the village. Most homes are made out of a flimsy wooden frame that is then coated with mud and cow dung. For anybody who has spoken to me recently, I have another use in mind for this cow dung - biogas... more on that later. So my permanent structure has four bedrooms, each with four beds. As of now, there are three residents: myself, my predecessor David, and the volunteer coordinator for our partner school (Ruth). Do the math and you'll see that we all have our own rooms for the time being. "But what about the other beds", you may ask.... They're for volunteers of which there are currently none, but the first will be arriving in November. The house is run by our partner school, Arlington Academy of Hope, which I'll talk more about later. David leaves next week, and Ruth will leave in a month or so when the school year ends. Her replacement will arrive after the holidays. I guess I'll be running the house in the meantime, which basically means making sure that we're stocked and that our lovely house woman, Jennipher, has everything she needs.

Jennipher does the cooking, cleaning, and even laundry. I haven't had treatment like this... ever? I love my mother dearly, but she works too much to ever provide daily laundry service and to cook a full dinner with at least five dishes. For breakfast, we kind of "fend for ourselves" with oatmeal, jam, bread and the like, though there is the occasional treat put out by Jennipher (eggs, "french toast", etc). She also puts out two big thermoses of boiled hot water for coffee and tea every morning and every evening. My morning snack (either chipati or mandazi, both of which are oily breads) and tea are provided by the school's kitchen. I'm enjoying my morning tea at this moment, actually. I laugh to myself when I think about how great I have it. Lunch is also served by the school. Usually cornmeal, beans, and chopped cabbage. It does the trick, especially with chili sauce. Dinners are fantastic - a starch (rice, chipati), usually matoke (mashed plantains), a veggie mix, sometimes a meat dish, sometimes g-nut sauce ("Ground-nuts"), a coleslaw-type thing, maybe some avocados, maybe some beans.... lots of good options. There are always snack foods in the house like nutella, bread, bananas, jam, peanut butter.... It's really good in that department. Really good.

For number one, I use the pit latrine and for number two, I use one of two proper toilets in the bathhouse behind the guest house. It's about a ten foot walk between the structures. We use harvested rain water for the toilets, showers, and sink. It's cold, but it does the trick. For drinking water, we're stocked up on 5-gallon jugs of purified spring water. Some electricity is provided by the grid, which surprised me, and we have batteries and an inverter for backup lighting and one socket. The grid is very unreliable, so when the batteries run out, showering turns into "bucket bathing" and number two moves to the pit latrine as well. The seat in the pit latrine has been problematic and a leak has led to a puddle on the floor, which is unappealing. I plan on addressing both of these issues to make the latrine a more enjoyable experience.

All for now.... With so much happening, I'll do my best to keep these postings organized and with time, I hope that you can understand the lifestyle here. Thanks for reading!

My Arrival

I've been given the honor of being named the "field operations manager" of a health clinic in a remote village in the mountains of Eastern Uganda. The organization is called the Foundation for the International Medical Relief of Children, or FIMRC.

After 38 hours of travel, I arrived in Uganda to a warm welcome from both my predecessor at FIMRC (David) and my "Ugandan mother" from my 2006 trip, Margaret. We stayed the first night in Kampala (the capital) and I had what will be my last hot shower for some time. Kampala is a lot like I remember it, but it seems more streets have been paved, and there are definitely more traffic lights (there were only two last time, and I never saw either of them working). Overall, it felt great to be back and I'm glad to already be familiar with the country to some extent.

The next day, we arrived in the village of Bumwalukani, my new home, just before the afternoon rains came. The village is set in the foothills of Mt Elgon, which is a national park straddling the Uganda-Kenya border. Though economically depressed and lacking many conveniences, it's stunningly beautiful and the people are incredibly kind and welcoming. I mean seriously welcoming. I can't tell you how many people have told me that I'm "most welcome" to be here. I saw the health clinic and met some co-workers immediately upon arrival. By the way, David (my predecessor) saw to it that internet be established in the village, hence my ability to blog and to generally be connected to the world. I understand the Sox forced a game 7 and are playing tonight. Thank you, David and go Sox!

First full day in the village

Today, David and I were invited to lunch at the home of Robert, the chairman of a local men's health group who educates the community on health and well-being. The great food and interesting conversation made me forget that we were in a home built of mud and cow shit. After lunch and the afternoon rains, I was sitting in my new home and as I looked out the front window, I saw the sun hitting the mountains and a vivid rainbow in front of the clouds.

The pictures in this posting are from the front porch of my new home. Though I'll be missing a lot of things from the States, I've already been exposed to both natural beauty and human beauty that I know will remind me every day why I decided to come here.