First day at MCDT

The folks at MCDT (which stands for Micro Credit Development Trust, I found out) asked me to get there at 9:00. I got there very early (at 8:30), and they were already hard at work, sorting through files and getting things all set up for the day. They were a bit shocked to see me there so early and tried to keep me occupied, but clearly 9 didn’t really mean 9. They asked me to arrive later the next day. In the meantime, I read the newspaper, which didn’t take all that long, and then I watched fascinated as the man across from me sorted baggies full of change into piles of 10 100/= pieces and 6 500/= pieces, and then parceled them out so that everyone at 5,000/= per person for travel expenses.

There were about 6 loan agents going out for meetings with borrowers all over Kampala, scheduled on posters on the wall opposite me. At about 9:40, everything was ready and so everyone stopped everything to say the Lord’s Prayer. I think this is an RC organization as they didn’t say the doxology. After the Lord’s Prayer, someone at the head of the table continued on with the prayer that they would do God’s work that day and all said Amen with the conclusion I’ve come to expect: May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, be with us all evermore. Then we went out.

I went with a rather dour woman called Alle. She didn’t talk much; we just went about our business, taking a matatu up to Wandegeya and then another taxi to Nakulabye (NA-coo-LA-bee-yuh--very near Namirembe and Joseline’s place). From there we walked down into a neighborhood that seemed grittier than I had seen elsewhere—kind of like a bad Oakland neighborhood, not quite so violent, but it had a bit of that feel, very different from the IDP camp that still had a sense of family and countryside.

One of the things Alle had said as we traveled to Nakulabye (with some disgust) was that the women would undoubtedly be late for the meeting. It was supposed to be at 10, but they were almost certain to show up late, though they might show up earlier today because she was supposed to give them something. I found this a little odd, given that she was telling me this at about 10 after 10, thus putting our own timeliness in some doubt. Again, "time" means something rather different here than in the U.S.

At any rate, people eventually trickled in and there was a way that they really struck me as the urban poor that the people in the Acholi Quarters never did. They were a bit scruffier somehow. Except for one woman who was wearing this amazing blue dress with black ruffles on a bias and a matching headdress with a huge black bow, mostly it was T-shirts and wrap-around skirts and flip-flops.

I should describe where we met. We walked down this dirt road and stopped at what appeared to be an empty wooden shack with a doorframe but no door. Inside, it was covered with all sorts of political posters for various candidates: local council, Kampala mayor, Parliament, President Museveni, with slogans like “Working for the Common Man Revolution,” or “Politics with a Human Face.” Alle and I pulled out some small blue wooden benches and set them up for people to sit on when they came. Some boys peeked through the window at us—me mostly. I would smile back at them and they would duck out of sight. One boy, much later, who walked past the door did a classic double-take when he saw me sitting there.

There wasn’t a whole lot for me to do. I did try to do a couple of the Kiva intake interviews for the group loans, but English was not so easy in the circumstances and Alle kept having to interpret while counting money. Both of the group leaders dealt in waragi (which I heard pronounced “wallege”), a local brew, so I learned something new today.

Also tried to learn a Luganda greeting, which I need to review because the ladies were exceedingly amused that I knew absolutely nothing, not even the most basic thing. I think it’s “Ale de nyaga,” but I’ll have to double-check. “Aledenyaga,” a woman would say to me and I would stare stupidly and everyone would laugh. The proper response is to say, “Aledenyaga” back. So I’ll be working on that.

One woman brought a chicken to the meeting, tying its leg with twine that was put under a bench leg. Then she held it down by stepping on its feet. Then she bound its leg with twine. It seemed fairly resigned about all of this. I hadn’t known it was there for quite some time. It gave one squawk when she stepped on its feet, but then stopped. It made me a little uncomfortable, though not uncomfortable enough to stop me from having chicken for lunch (which turned out not to be the best idea).

Alle spent the morning filling out papers, marking passbooks, counting money, showing the group loan members where to sign. There wasn’t a meeting as such. It was just time to collect money and take care of business. The ladies sat and chatted and I have no idea what really went on. After I had finished interviewing the second group leader and taking the group’s picture, Alle said, “You might as well go,” so I made my way slowly home, trying to avoid the rain.

Take 2

Yesterday was one of those days that by 2:00 I decided was never actually going to happen and I might as well give up and go home. I got to the office where there was no power. When the power came back, there was no internet connection. I was supposed to meet the loan officer at 10:00 to go visit borrowers and she arrived at noon. She didn't want to head out to our far distant destination without confirming that the center administrator had called them to let them know we were coming (since she has to pay her own transportation costs, this makes a lot of sense; no point in going for no reason). The center administrator hadn't arrived, the loan officer's phone needed charging (she had no power at home) and I was out of minutes so we couldn't call. When the center administrator arrived, we learned he hadn't called the borrowers' office. The loan officer and I rescheduled our visit for Friday and I called it a day.

One of the things Uganda is teaching me is how many things are simply out of my hands. A while back, Peter and I were going to visit the director of another MFI (microfinance institution) and got stuck in a jam (as they call it here). We were at a dead stop sitting in this matatu with our meeting starting in 10 minutes and I found myself thinking, "Oh well." Nothing I could do about it anyway. And we got there late where the man we were meeting was just finishing up with someone else and it was fine. But even if it wasn't, making the traffic go faster, turning on the power, connecting to the internet, arranging the loan officer's arrival, and so much else is out of my control. Nothing to do but do what I can and observe what's around me.

Tales from the Office: An Important Meeting!

Life in Africa held an important meeting on Friday for its members up in the Acholi Quarters. Their children’s program was about to go under because people weren’t paying the weekly fee of 250 shillings (about 15 cents) for their children’s lunch that was included. So at the Tuesday staff meeting, Grace announced that they should have a meeting and talk about this important issue. They decided on Friday at 2:00. But the meeting was so important that they decided they should announce the meeting was at 1:00 so that everybody would be there by 2:00.

I asked if I should go, and they said sure. They were holding it at Alex Opoka’s place. I had been there before so I imagined I could find it again. (Now, don’t think you know where this story is going because you don’t!) On Friday, I went home for lunch and told Peter and Jessica, still laboring over their plans, that I would meet them there.

I left a little after 1 and took matatu #1 to Spear Motors, and then matatu #2 to the Banda stage. I walked through the marketplace and up the hill, across the railroad tracks and over the street, and up the further hill. It was about 10 minutes to 2 when I reached the Acholi Quarters, and by a decent memory and some luck I made it to Opoka’s place right at 2.

There was nobody there. Well, there was a girl and a small boy there. They knew nothing about a meeting. I called Peter; no answer. I called Grace and told her where I was. She said that she would tell them what to do. I wasn’t sure if this meant the girl or my colleagues. I handed the phone to the girl, but Grace had hung up.

At this point Alex Opoka came back. I told him that I was here for the meeting. He hadn’t heard about any meeting, but seemed agreeable about it. He started off to get more benches. Then Jessica called me and I told her where I was. She told me to go to the meeting place (a pavilion near where one first enters the Acholi Quarters). Alex came back with a bench and I told him what Jessica had said. Alex walked me over to the meeting place, he limping. I asked what happened. He said an animal like a leopard had come to get one of his pigs and as he was chasing it off, he had fallen. Yeah, don’t you hate that?

I got to the meeting place and sat down on a bench in the shade, feeling comfortable and quiet. At this point, a woman shows up wearing a Life in Africa T-shirt and says I need to go to Esther’s place. Oh, OK. So I follow this woman to Esther’s place. I go inside, where it’s very warm, and sit on a chair while two other women sit on mats on the floor and a small boy plays with a stuffed animal. They speak in Acholi and so I sit quietly, for the most part, sweating.

Eventually, Esther arrives. She’s an energetic woman who speaks fluent English and welcomes me to her home. She decides it’s too hot in the house for me and brings me out to sit in a more open shelter next door to the house, which is much better. I sit quietly in my chair, not sweating.

At about a quarter to 3, Peter arrives. He and Esther determine that Esther is going to bring me to the place where they are having the meeting. Peter leaves. Esther tells me she will take me to the meeting place…

…after she bathes. Which is very sensible, you know. If all you have is cold water, makes far more sense to bathe in the middle of the hot afternoon. So Esther gets a basin of water and her soap and her washcloth and troops off to wash. She comes back and goes into the house to dry off, and finally comes back and says OK. And so we leave for the meeting place.

We get there a little after three. It’s a classroom in the middle of a field, as you pictured here, and it is full of women, all making beads from slips of paper. Esther and I walk in and there is applause and ululation from the women assembled. Peter gets out his agenda. Now, at last, since the mazungu has finally arrived, they can get started. Those dang mazungus! They never show up on time!

[The other picture is of Peter and Grace, leading the meeting.]