the fragments that remain

Christmas in Pakistan: lessons in interfaith cooperation

2011-11-28T12:53:00.001+03:00

I used to think that “Christmas in Pakistan” was a complete oxymoron. In fact, when I started thinking about taking Christmas off to visit my family in the states, I was afraid to mention it to our Water Division Head, under the assumption that he wouldn’t understand given his Muslim faith. What I quickly learned was a humbling and challenging lesson about interfaith cooperation and the power of shared values.

When I finally approached Shakeel sab, he not only suggested that I take however much time off that I wanted, but he also traveled several hours to his home village in order to arrange a Christmas present (pictured above) for my family, whom he had never met. Speechlessly, I received the gift from him the day before I left, and with tremendous excitement, I presented it to my family a few days later. I’ve honestly never been so proud to give a present.

Through his compassion, Shakeel taught us that love isn't confined by religious beliefs. In essence, he taught us the power of religious pluralism.

In Eboo Patel’s book Acts of Faith, he defines religious pluralism as:

A form of practice cooperation that affirms the identity of the constituent communities while emphasizing that the well-being of each and all depends on the health of the whole… To see the other side, to defend another people, not despite your tradition, but because of it, is the heart of pluralism.

Before I left for Pakistan, Eboo Patel came to speak to our Acumen class. He shared about his background as a Muslim American from India, and the reasons why he believes the interfaith movement is critical to the future of our world. In his words, “human beings were meant to be diverse, and they were meant to live together… If we let the rights of one group erode, we endanger the very existence of those rights for everybody.”

Several months after Shakeel’s present, during a visit to Gandhi’s memorial in Delhi, my friend Bavidra pointed out one of his favorite quotes, where Gandhi compares the religious tradition into which we are born to a house. He says:

I do not want my house to be walled in on all sides and my windows to be stuffed. I want the cultures of all the lands to be blown about my house as freely as possible, although I won't be blown off my feet by any.

Over the past year, I’ve realized that Shakeel (and many of my other friends from Pakistan) have built beautiful houses, with strong foundations but also with enormous windows; my prayer is that the rest of us can learn to do the same.

Saying “goodbye” to Pops and Pakistan

2011-09-08T07:26:00.000+03:00

I’ve never been good at saying goodbye. (I don’t even understand why it’s called that – is there anything good about saying bye?) This past week, however, I had to say two of them – to the beautiful Pakistan and to my beloved Pops.

As I struggled through the two “goodbyes,” however, I realized something quite unexpected as a result of the repeated difficulty: my grandpa and the Pakistan that I've come to know/love have more in common than I would have ever imagined.

Over the past few years, Pops faced a number of significant setbacks, beginning with Nana’s (completely unexpected) death in 2008 and concluding with his own pancreatic cancer battle (which I wrote about here) four months ago. Similarly, Pakistan (PK) has had a rough few years: Since my arrival in November 2010, there has been unbelievable ethnic/political violence in Karachi; a number of high profiled assassinations, kidnappings, and bombings in Lahore; flooding in rural Sindh; rising inflation and power outages throughout the country; increasingly tense international relations with the US; and more.

Although both situations might appear helpless from an outsider’s perspective, what I’ve discovered is that Pops and Pakistan have been able to nurture hope even during the darkest nights. While even from my perspective this has often seemed to be a peace that passes understanding, I believe that a significant part of it comes from an unwavering ability to enjoy the simple things in life and to celebrate the small victories.

The list for Pops is endless: oatmeal with raisins, pinto beans, black coffee, the daily newspaper, morning walks, anything that involves eating or catching fish, games of backgammon and table tennis, cross country road trips, the Tampa Bay Rays, etc. Pops was a complex man who gained an inexplicable amount of enjoyment from the simplest things.

Similarly, PK is an incredibly complicated country – one which I am only beginning to understand – and yet it is clear that she has learned to celebrate the small victories, to embrace hope and joy wherever it’s found: Whether it’s a World Cup victory over West Indies (which we celebrated at Pharmagen), the laying of the first brick of low incoming houses outside of Lahore (an Acumen project where my friend Bryan worked), the launching of a new socially focused clothing store in Lahore (founded by my friend Babar), or even the 4^th season of Coke Studio (where my friend Anam worked).

By finding joy in even these simple things, both Pops and Pakistan have developed an unshakable foundation of joy, one that has somehow held up even during the thickest storms.

Although they’ve been able to discover this sense of peace, it would be wrong to imply that either Pops or Pakistan have grown complacent. In fact, the second similarity proves the opposite: Pops and Pakistan have both taught me the value of hard work and high expectations.

Pops believed that hard work was the solution to almost everything – through it, people could achieve anything they put their mind to. He learned this early on in life: when he got his first job as an 11 year old newspaper boy and again when he snuck into the Air Force at 17. He also strongly believed in the entrepreneurial value of making the most out of every opportunity. After my Grandma passed, for example, he eventually started dating again and joked around that he and I could have a double wedding. After he met Lee, however, he told me that he couldn’t wait around anymore, and he was married a week later (clearly making the most out of the opportunity)!

Over the past year, I’ve realized that PK also places a heightened importance on hard work, and specifically upon entrepreneurship and the private sector. At Pharmagen, for example, we work 6 days a week, for at least 10 hours a day (even during Ramzan, a month without food or water during the hottest days of the year). Similarly, the number of close friends who have started their own business is significantly unparalleled: from Babar (who I mentioned) in cause based clothing, to Asim and Zahoor (previous Acumen Fund Fellows) in leadership, to Ali in tech, Zehra in sustainable housing insulation, Saba in job training and girls education, and Junaid in renewable biomass energy.

Even though PK might not believe that every single problem can be fixed through hard work alone, examples such as these have shown me that people have high expectations (for themselves and for their country), they believe in a brighter tomorrow, and they believe in doing their part to create that tomorrow.

Lastly, Pops and Pakistan place an immeasurable amount of importance on personal relationships, friendships and family. Pops was the type of person who was fueled by others. When I was little, my sister and I used to go on 10-15 day road trips across the country, just so we could go to some family reunion in Kansas or Oklahoma. And somehow, along the way, Pops seemed to have friends in nearly every town where we stopped – it was unbelievable. He would invite strangers over for dinner, he and I talked at least twice a month for hours on the phone (long distance), and he once hitchhiked from California to Kansas (probably just to meet new people). He believed wholeheartedly that all we have is one another other, that we are all responsible for each other, and that serving someone is the strongest form of unconditional love.

And to be completely honest, I wasn’t expecting to discover love and community this deep in PK. Not until I started talking with Dr. Ahmad, the Business Head at Pharmagen, when he began calling me weekly – back in early September – just to get to know each other. Two months later, he picked me up from the airport at 3AM, and we had soda and tea at his house until 5AM. He treated me as a son from the very beginning, even though I didn’t do anything to deserve it. Shakeel, our Water Division Head, was the same (he once gave me Christmas presents for my parents in CA), as was my host family, the Acumen Fund office, Acumen investment companies, and nearly everyone I got to know. It was nothing short of amazing, completely unwarranted, and incomparable to anything but the love I’ve seen from Pops.

Which of course, makes it all the more difficult to say goodbye. But in many ways, also creates endless reasons why I don’t actually have to say goodbye at all, but rather, Allah Hafiz aor jaidi miltay hain (God protect you and see you soon). And of course, bahut shukriya (many thanks): For the joy and the peace that passes understanding, the heightened expectations and hard work that can truly change the world, and especially for the selfless servant hood and unconditional love that have already changed my life and thousands of others.

Gandhi, independence(s) and discovering unity in a world of division

2011-08-15T15:20:00.001+03:00

About one week before Pakistan and India celebrated their separate independence days, I found myself standing in the final footprints of the man who largely inspired this independence but forever opposed the division that it created.

Standing at the exact spot where Mahatma Gandhi was shot and killed, I was overwhelmed by the irony of his death, the serenity of the Delhi garden, the supernatural-feeling of the monument, and the surrealism / palpable connection created by standing on the same soil as one of the world’s most inspiring, sacrificial and revolutionary leaders.

Overcome with humility and awe, my friend Bavidra and I found some consolation in the hundreds of profound and timeless words from Gandhi that were displayed along the path of his last walk. Each quote seemed to build off of each other, amassing into a wave of wisdom that finally overtook us with the following idea:

I believe in fundamental truth of all great religions of the world. I believe that they are all god-given and I believe that they were necessary for the people to whom these religions were revealed and I believe that, if only we could all read the scriptures of the different faiths from the standpoint of followers of those faiths, we should find that they were at bottom all One.

Having spent the past 9 months in Pakistan (and the majority of my life in a very homogeneous country), these words perfectly described a part of my soul that I’ve never been able to adequately articulate.

Since moving to Lahore in November, I’ve wondered dozens of times how different Pakistan would be if she wasn’t split from India. If they were able to develop a mutually beneficial relationship, based on tolerance and respect. If Pakistan and India believed, as Gandhi dreamed and preached, that men are all, no matter by what name designated, children of the same God. If, instead of having two separate Independence Day celebrations this week – on two separate days – there was just one festivity, embracing the collective progress, shared successes, and united hope for the 1.3 billion people in Indo+Pak.

I’ve also wondered, nearly every single day, how radically and revolutionarily different our world would look if we, the global society, learned to love and respect each other as human beings, celebrating our commonalities instead of dividing ourselves over diminutive differences. If we, in the words of Gandhi, made no distinction between relatives and strangers, countrymen and foreigners, white and coloured, Hindus and Indians of other faiths, whether Mussalmans, Paris, Christians or Jews.

I realize how ignorantly idealistic and impossible this sounds – and , yes, there are a thousand excuses why it will never happen – but there are also several reasons why we simply cannot afford to continue on our current trajectory. The very existence of our world, and especially South Asia, is dependent on nothing short of a revolution, as threats – such as natural disasters, climate change, energy access, illiteracy, food insecurity, HIV/TB/malaria, etc. – continue to suffocate humanity. These are forces that we cannot possibly comprehend defeating on our own, but can only hope to overcome through our collective efforts…

United we stand, divided we fall.

On Father's Day, lessons from our beloved Pops

2011-06-19T15:12:00.004+03:00

On March 2, 2011, I received an email from my mom that I could have never been prepared for: my 81 year old grandpa – one of the most influential people in my entire life – had a large tumor in his pancreas, and they were pretty sure it was malignant. The confirmation came 9 days later: pancreatic cancer, stage 4, incurable, 3-6 months. That combination of words still leaves me speechless.

About two and half months later, on May 18, 2011, our beloved Pops was promoted to glory.

This blog post isn’t about morning Pops, however, although there has unfortunately been lots of that. Rather, it’s meant to welcome others to join in the celebration of his life and to continue his legacy by sharing the stories that forever shaped and changed my life during the 26 years that I physically spent with him.

And ironically, focusing on the positive – even in seemingly hopeless situations – is one of the most reoccurring lessons that Pops taught me, most recently through the way he handled my grandmother’s passing. Even though she was only 71 years young, and died very suddenly and unexpectedly, Pops told me that he didn’t want to focus on morning her death, but rather to celebrate all the amazing times he had with her. “Nana and I had 51 good years together, Benj. I’m a lucky man, and she was an amazing woman. What good would it do to be bitter?”

Although I was shocked, challenged and inspired at how Pops processed my grandmother’s passing, I never realized how profoundly optimistic and infinitely hopeful his outlook on life was until I called him the day I received my mom’s message. In her email, she had actually written that Pops was “staying positive and cracking jokes like he always does,” but somehow I couldn’t internalize that. The news for me was too much to accept, and I didn’t see how anyone else – let alone the person most affected by it – could be processing it either.

I called him from my room in Lahore, and he answered the phone with the same excitement and chuckle that he always had: “Hey Benj! How’s it going?”(I called him every other week and he would always answer the phone this way!). He went on to ask me how my project was going, and only after about 10 minutes mentioned the cancer. “You know Benj, I know it’s not looking great, but I’ve seen a lot of things and been through a lot of things, and I’ve realized that you just have to take it one day at a time. When you get depressed and start overreacting, well, that just makes it harder on you.”

Just take it one day at a time… That’s how Pops lived his life, enjoying the present without fear for tomorrow. He had mastered the ability of living in the moment, and literally confronted death with his classic smirk and a backpack full of jokes. Sure, he mapped things out and believed (probably more than anyone!) in preparation (e.g., a good night sleep and a solid oatmeal breakfast), but he was never thrown off by any unexpected turns or roadblocks.

On the phone that day, something inside of me changed forever. Here I was sitting in Pakistan, worried and anxious about what seemed to be some pretty tense political situations, and yet Pops was literally facing death with a smirk. If he could maintain that type of optimism, given his situation, than who was I to be worried about the very improbable possibilities I was facing?

As a result of this optimism, I have no doubt that Pops lived the fullest life that he could possibly have lived. He saved hundreds of lives during his 28 years in the Air Force, he brightened the lives of thousands as a cook and host, he raised 3 beautiful daughters and dozens of grandkids, and he remarried a beautiful woman named Lee just one month before he passed away.

Pops might not be with us to celebrate Father's Day today, but my prayer is that we can continue to carry his legacy forward by taking things one day at a time, by enjoying the present because tomorrow will worry about itself and by truly celebrating the ones we love.

The World [Water] Cup comes to Pakistan!

2011-05-03T08:17:00.007+03:00

Last month, seemingly all of Pakistan (and apparently much of the world) was enthralled by the Cricket World Cup. As a football fan still recovering from the madness (and heartache) of the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, I also found myself captivated by this newly found sport, as Pakistan excitedly anticipated our debut match (against Kenya).

As the coin toss drew near, I began to reflect on my experiences living in Kenya and the time I spent preparing for Africa’s first World Cup. I vividly remembered the football tournament that we hosted in the Mathare slum, which we designed to raise awareness for World Water Day and the importance of clean drinking water and sanitation. Appropriately titled the World [Water] Cup, this tournament was a huge success, and we wondered how we could scale it up.

The advent of the Cricket World Cup – coincided with the 19^th annual World Water Day and my placement at a water company in Pakistan – provided the perfect opportunity. So with the support of the management team at Pharmagen, we set out to introduce the World [Water] Cup to Lahore.

Given that Pharmagen has launched 13 new water shops over the past several months, this also seemed like the perfect opportunity to raise awareness for these shops. Rather than host a tournament, therefore, we decided to screen the Pakistan matches at our shops, an activity that seemed to fit perfectly with our new community-based, guerilla marketing strategy.

Although we considered canceling the event because of security concerns – given the situation with the American CIA agent who very publicly killed two Pakistanis – we decided that it was safe to move forward, and the event turned out to be a huge success. As Pakistan swept over the West Indies during their quarterfinal match, over 400 hundred fans stopped to watch on our road side projector, enjoy Pharmagen water with us, and receive flyers and coupons promoting clean drinking water.

We then went on to screen the match at three other new shops during the nail biting Pakistan versus India semifinal, a match that sadly (but rather dramatically) ended the tournament for our team. Fortunately, however, the celebration for Pharmagen and our communities has continued on, as we have seen a 10-20% increase in customer usage in the shops were we hosted the World [Water] Cup.

Check out the video below for a quick glimpse into some of the action!

ThinkChange Pakistan's article on Pharmagen and my role there

2011-04-17T05:13:00.000+03:00

I recently had the opportunity to chat with the lovely Kalsoom Lakani, who wears a thousand different hats, one of which is Managing Editor at a blog called ThinkChange Pakistan. Although I'm obviously biased, I think the piece she wrote is a great glimpse into the work I've been doing, and I wanted to share it here...

Pharmagen, Innovation & Acumen, Oh My

Acumen Fund is a non-profit venture capital fund that invests patient capital to strengthen and scale businesses effectively serving the poor. The organization also believes that “a unique pool of talent comprised of individuals who have the operational and financial skills combined with the moral imagination necessary to create innovative solutions to global poverty” can help strengthen these transformative businesses. The year-long Acumen Fund Global Fellows program achieves this by selecting well-qualified individuals and placing them in the organization’s investments around the world, giving them the necessary skills and support to work in the field for nine months and ultimately fostering a corps of next generation social sector leaders.

One of these leaders is Benje Williams, who has been working on the ground in Lahore for Acumen investee Pharmagen Healthcare Limited. Benje, a California native, came to Pakistan with a management consulting background and experience in Kenya and South Africa. He is currently working to develop and implement a marketing strategy for Pharmagen, a company that provides safe, clean, and affordable drinking water to low-income residents in the city.

The need for clean and safe water is great. According to USAID, water and sanitation related diseases are responsible for 60% of the total number of child mortality cases in Pakistan, with diarrheal diseases killing over 200,000 children under-five years old every year. In total, water-borne diseases cause 40% of illnesses in Pakistan.

Pharmagen Healthcare (Pharmagen Limited has been operating for 20 years, but Pharmagen Healthcare was launched only five years ago) aims to tackle this problem. Its chain of shops extracts water from underground, purifies it through a Reverse Osmosis plant, and re-mineralizes it. Water quality is then checked to WHO Standards, and affordably priced for low-income customers in Lahore.

In 2010, Acumen Fund made a $1.5 million investment in Pharmagen Healthcare, which will allow the company to scale their water shops fromfour to 30 by the end of this year, supplying half a million people with clean water daily.

A cohesive marketing plan is key to making this investment a success and helping the company expand. Since arriving in Lahore four months ago, Benje has performed market research and analysis to further understand customer expectations and preferences in the communities Pharmagen Healthcare serves.

The results have been interesting. Although the company previously undertook a mainstream marketing strategy more traditionally in line with urban customers, using radio spots and commercials, Benje found that a guerrilla marketing campaign would be more effective. As he told ThinkChange Pakistan,

In order to communicate Pharmagen Healthcare’s message and build trust within the community, we needed a more informal, rural-like approach.

The strategy, now in its implementation stage, will involve tactics like posters, in-shop promotions, partnerships with local businesses and school outreach.

This tailored strategy is a testament not only to Acumen and their close relationship with their investees, but also how important it is for social enterprises to understand the nuanced need of their low-income customers. Benje noted that going into the field – talking and listening to customers, as well as researching competitors – helps to enlighten discussion with Pharmagen Healthcare’s management team, strengthening the business’ market-based approach, as well as his own understanding on the ground.

While working in Pakistan presents its own set of challenges, Benje said his positive expectations prior to coming to Lahore were largely fulfilled, citing the hospitality and generosity he has received. He added,

I think one of the biggest surprises has been from a religious perspective, how similar Christianity and Islam are. The appreciation and respect I have received from friends in Pakistan has been very encouraging and a very pleasant surprise.

Having previously worked in Kenya, Benje noted that he is also encouraged by the potential of the social enterprise space in Pakistan. “A large majority of Pakistanis may not yet know about social enterprise, but they could potentially be really interested in this space. From a cultural and religious perspective, there is already a strong conviction to tackle social justice issues, to help your neighbor. There is therefore potential to expand upon the pure charity approach to also gain support for Acumen Fund’s model,” which takes the best of charity and the markets.

Pharmagen Healthcare epitomizes this hybrid entrepreneurial approach, and, with Acumen’s investment and support from its fellows program, will undoubtedly have a long-term and sustainable impact among low-income communities. How’s that for moral imagination?

World Water Day and the World (Water) Cup in Pakistan

2011-03-22T16:40:00.004+03:00

Ali Zubair is a resident of Lahore, Pakistan, a city with 10 million people who – like everyone else in this world – are dependent on water as a source of life. Unlike you and me, however, Ali relies on water that is a source of potential death.

Nearly every day, he wakes up and journeys about a hundred meters to this nearby government water plant, believing that it is a safer alternative to the water that comes out of his tap, which has been contaminated by the old and rotting water pipes. Although he admits that this government filtered water might still be unhealthy, Ali claims he has little options since he can't afford to buy purified bottled water from Nestle or to boil water every day at home.

As this picture suggests, Ali’s water source is indeed impure, polluted with thousands of invisible microbiological and chemical impurities. While the government claims they are safe, such filtration points are only further propelling the problem that initiated in Lahore with contaminated tap water. Tragically, the end result is that 40% of all diseases in Pakistan originate from unhealthy water, killing over 200,000 children every year from diarrhea alone.

Fortunately, Pharmagen Healthcare Limited –the social business that I work with – is doing something about this emergency. Throughout the city, we have set up 17 Pharmagen Water shops – including one near Ali – where we purify our own ground water through a comprehensive purification process that involves multiple filtration steps, chlorination, ultra violet treatment and reverse osmosis. In other words, we are eliminating all the bad stuff that the other treatment methods (including boiling water) are not, while pricing our “Pure and Refreshing” water at just 1.5 Rs (about 1 cent) per liter.

Through our partnership with Acumen Fund, we have created 13 new shops over the past 6 months and are planning to add an additional 13 by the end over the year. In addition, we have rolled out several new services – including home and workplace delivery – that enable our customers to have similar service offerings as the affluent, but at a price they can afford.

In order to observe World Water Day (WWD) this week, we are continuing a tradition in Pakistan that began last year in Kenya. In collaboration with another Acumen Fund investee – and in eager excitement for the approaching World Cup – my football team from the Mathare Slum hosted the “World (Water) Cup” football tournament one year ago. This year, the Cricket World Cup is currently in full swing in Asia, and the Pakistani national team will be playing in the quarterfinals tomorrow. Therefore, in order to carry on the tradition, while also celebrating WWD, we will be hosting a “World (Water) Cup” party tomorrow at one of our Pharmagen Water shops.

Through this initiative, our new marketing plan and our planned growth, we hope that Pharmagen Water can continue to provide people like Ali and the rest of Lahore with safe drinking water and that – together, with the rest of the world – we can play a small role in eliminating the need for a day like WWD to even exist.

For whom the bell tolls: Bomb blasts and our global family

2011-02-12T23:11:00.001+03:00

Lahore is a city filled with indescribable beauty. The mango colored sunrises over the Ravi River, the lifted laughter of kite-flying-kids running across Race Course Park, the bowling and batting of cricket balls in the back alleys of Badami Bagh, the curves of shrines and mosques that weave throughout Mall Road, the 10 million smiles that illuminate the markets and malls (even during the longest blackout).

Last month, there was a bomb blast – approximately 5 blocks from our Pharmagen Water Shop – that attempted to destroy that beauty. At least 11 people died, including the 13 year old boy who was likely bought and brainwashed to bear the explosive.

Two days later, still unsure how to respond, I came across the following poem:

No man is an island entire of itself
Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls
It tolls for thee

Reading this piece, I immediately thought about my 11 person family – including my littlest brother Gerry – and realized that even though I never met the 11 who died that day in Lahore, they were a part of me. They were my brothers and sisters. They were my parents. They were my family…

By adopting 7 children and living a life of sacrificial and impartial love, my parents began teaching me at an early age that family is a globally inclusive idea. And when my dad and I first traveled to Kenya 7 years ago I began to understand what that really means. I realized that the widows dying from HIV in the Kibera slum were my sisters, the young men running from gangs and drugs in Mathare were my brothers, and the couple in the Rift Valley struggling to feed their kids a single meal a day were my parents.

Reading this poem in Lahore, I realized that that the 11 who died on January 25 were also my family.

And I realized that you – wherever you might live, whoever you might be, whatever you might believe, however you might feel about me – are also my family. And together, we need to realize that our globally family is struggling and the bell is tolling, for them and for us.

Louder than 27 bullets: America vs. Islam

2011-01-17T21:23:00.005+03:00

“Pakistan is going down.”

This was the headline pasted across the CNN broadcast as I prepared to board the 16 hour New York – Lahore trek, returning to a country I've grown to love deeply but that the newscaster was condemning as the most dangerous in the world. The news of the night (and eventually the week/month) was the assassination of Governor Salmaan Taseer, a man described as an exceptional figure in Pakistani politics, an ambitious and gloriously profane man, a flamboyant and bold leader, and a martyr who was willing to put his life on the line to defend a Christian woman sentenced to death under Pakistan’s blasphemy laws.

But despite the true hero Taseer was, it became clear – after landing back in PK – that a flood of opposition from the conservatives/extremists was rising, seeking to drown out his legacy and his ideals.

While it’s easy to sit back and observe the rising waters as they further divide the liberals and the conservatives, I believe this is a sofa seat that we, as Americans, can no longer afford to keep warm.

Afterall, if all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing, then perhaps we are just as responsible as the extremists.

As I read this quote yesterday, I thought about Salmaan Taseer’s life, the ultimate sacrifice he made, and wondered: what am I doing to unapologetically obviate evil from triumphing? What am I doing to defend hope from 27 more bullets of ignorance? What am I doing to live out Taseer’s dream of a militant-free Pakistan and to louden the cry of his daughter: that all those who share in the belief of Pakistan’s future honor her father’s memory and stay silent about injustice no longer.

So here’s my first step at staying silent no longer: Despite how individualistic and isolated Pakistan’s problems may seem, we Americans need to realize how profoundly, intimately, and tragically we are tied to these issues.

This is a strong statement, but one that is unfortunately backed by strong evidence. One thing that has become depressingly clear over the past week is that this polarization in Pakistan has been created by the local conservatives’ fears that Islam is under attack. And what makes this so personally painful is the possibility that the US is perhaps the primary perpetrator.

Imran Khan, a Taaser-like super hero in Pakistan, supported this realization on CNN: when people feel this is not a war against the militant terrorists, but actually a war against Islam itself – which is the general perception amongst the masses – then there are a lot of people that are willing to defend the religion.

He goes on to make an extremely important, yet most often underrated, point: If the terrorists are perceived as terrorists, than you are winning the war. But, if they are perceived as freedom fighters who are protecting Islam, than you are losing the war.

From a policy and military perspective, there are profound implications to this statement, and I plan to write about those in my next post. But perhaps more importantly, there are also profound implications for you and for me – as global citizens, or even just human beings – and we cannot afford to ignore them.

As Khan points out, fighting terrorism is to win the hearts and minds of people, and by allowing the people in Pakistan to believe that this is a war on Islam, we are losing both.

US Vice President Biden – who visited Pakistan last week – gave a speech in Islamabad claiming that America is not attacking Islam, but that we embrace those that practice this great religion.

These are important words and a critical message coming from our country, however, the people of Pakistan need them to be more than just words. They need us to carefully and critically analyze if our actions mirror this belief, or if these words have merely just become a sound bite, a Twitter post, a Facebook status.

Does the way we personally approach issues such as the mosque at Ground Zero or the Quran burning in Florida indicate that we embrace those that practice Islam? What about how we look at someone in the airport or interact with people at work or at the store? What about the stories we tell to our family, the jokes we tell to our friends, or even the ideas we allow ourselves to think? And perhaps most importantly, what do we say to the millions who don’t believe in this idea, who naively still think Islam is the enemy?

We need to realize the sweeping and draconian damage that discrimination towards Muslims creates in our country, that each and every actions has ubiquitous consequences and that we cannot continue to ostracize this community, allow others to ostracize this community, or send the global message that Islam is the enemy of America.

This realization begins at a personal level, and it starts with me and it starts with you. Yes, it's easy to point at the seemingly never ending list of issues that Pakistan needs to sort out internally, but we have to play our part first.

Instead of giving life to the very idea of religious intolerance that Taseer gave his life fighting, let’s work together to overcome evil by interrupting oppression wherever it’s found and by staying silent no longer.

Introducing my Acumen placement in Pakistan: Pharmagen Healthcare Limited

2010-12-28T17:43:00.001+03:00

A few weeks ago, I was asked to speak at an Acumen Fund Community Gathering (CG) event in Karachi about my passion and background in economic development. The purpose of this annual celebration was to galvanize the local Acumen community in Pakistan – focusing on social entrepreneurship and patient capital – and Bryan (the other Fellow in PK) and I also wanted to share our hopes and early experiences in our new country/home.

Although I was mostly anxious about speaking to a room filled with 200 people that surely had many more inspiring stories to tell than I do, there was another item on the agenda that I found myself eagerly anticipating. Over the previous weeks, the Acumen Pakistan team had been working on a short documentary of my placement company, Pharmagen Healthcare Ltd, and this video was to be debuted at the CG. While I was excited to see how the footage came out, I was also selfishly motivated…

Since I began the Fellowship (and even before), I’ve struggled to explain what it is that “I do.” I wrote about this dilemma back in October, but I quickly realized how complicated the problem became with my placement in Pakistan. As a pastor in Long Island once said, after giving a 2 minute prayer for my safety as a “soldier” in Pakistan: “why else would you go to Pakistan unless you’re in the Army?”

To help dispel these misconceptions, I was planning to put together a video, introducing Pharmagen, the amazing management team here, and the incredible community that we work with throughout Lahore. Fortunately, Acumen beat me to the big screen. Although the film focuses on the water division (and not the rural pharmacy chain), it’s a great introduction to the company and I hope it inspires you as much as it did the community at the CG.

Bridal gowns, Ferragamo loafers and rags to riches

2010-12-08T17:54:00.003+03:00

When I boarded my flight to Pakistan 3 weeks ago, a bridal fashion show in Lahore was the last event I could have imagined attending. A wedding? Perhaps. A fashion show? Maybe. But a bridal fashion show? Definitely not.

Well, as your Sherlock skills might have detected, a bridal fashion show was exactly where I found myself (specifically, the closing ceremony of the “Style 360 Bridal Couture Week,” and yes, the quotations are necessary!). Perhaps what you might not have hypothesized, however, was how much I actually enjoyed it! Although the designers we saw were absolutely breathtaking, the crayon-like crowd was probably my favorite part. From 24 year old journalists to 60 year old mothers to Dubai business investors to the hundreds like me who were just generally interested in global fashion.

Despite the fact that it was nearly midnight on a chilly and moonless Lahore rooftop, I found myself continually day dreaming back:

· to sunny days in Bryant Park, where I watched my first NY Fashion Week show with two of my best friends from elementary school

· to the days when we managed our own clothing company, and nearly dropped out of school trying to “win big” at the fashion trade shows in Las Vegas

· to the shoe launch on 5^th Avenue, where Salvatore Ferragamo recently introduced a shoe line (Ferragamo WORLD) from which they will give a portion of the sales to Acumen Fund to help alleviate poverty (video below).

As I relived these memories from our pirated front row media seats in Lahore, I also became fully aware of the irony (and resulting parade of questions) of a high end fashion show where any one of the featured garments could cost more than the per capita income of half the country’s population. Is this a paradox that will always exist? A dichotomy of the haves and have nots? A labyrinth-like dilemma where your Brooks Brothers shoes are nothing more than a guilty pleasure that stay in your closet every time you travel to a developing country?

Or is it possible to develop partnerships with the fashion industry – like Acumen and Ferragamo are doing, or like TOMS Shoes is doing – so that the industry can meaningfully contribute to the economic development of countries such as Pakistan? More specifically, how do we take those ideas and partnerships to an even more profound level, so that low income communities are actually engaged in the process? As designers? As producers? As buyers and store owners and journalists and investors?

While there have surely been hundreds of examples of how we’ve historically failed drastically in this area (think Nike), perhaps there are a few ideas that might provide hope. Ideas such as:

· BeadforLife, which engages women making less than $1 a day in Uganda to create jewelry out of recycled paper, paying them $200 a month – twice the country’s GDP per capita – and also funding their business start-up when the 18 month training/employment program concludes. Or,

· Stitch Tomorrow, a social enterprise that helps underprivileged teens in South East Asia start their own fashion lines (made of recycled materials!) by training them in fashion and business, providing microfinance funding, and connecting them to industry stakeholders. Or,

· The WEEP program that I worked with in Kenya this past year, that trains widows with HIV in the slums to tailor school uniforms, craft jewelry, and launch their own businesses.

My hope is that interventions like these might inspire the fashion industry to do what they do best – think innovatively – in order to help engage communities that have so often been left out of the industry's economic fabric.

I'll be going away for a little while...

2010-12-01T10:28:00.001+03:00

The following is a guest post from Bryan Farris, a 2011 Acumen Fellow and close friend. He has also been placed in Pakistan (at a different company) and has a background comically similar to mine (CA upbringing, big family, Berkeley studies, management consulting, blogger, etc.). Despite these Thing 1 / Thing 2 like characteristics, he always writes with a unique voice, and I wanted to share the following post he wrote about our training in NY and aspirations for PK.

In nature, caterpillars take some time off from the world to grow into something beautiful. At the moment, I’m sitting on the plane, heading to Pakistan – my own personal cocoon. I hope that my time abroad will teach me new skills and help me to reflect on what is to come next.

As I wrote in my previous post encouraging you to apply for the fellowship, the first two months in NYC have stretched the way I perceive the world. One of our trainers, Greta, used the metaphor of a rubber band: when you stretch a rubber band, it will always snap back to its original shape, but if you stretch it enough it will snap back to an expanded state. Right now, I feel stretched – I’ve taken in a lot over the last two months. During the next part of the journey I will start to distill what I’ve learned – I’ll start to snap back, but I know that I’ve left NYC with my mind expanded (for the purposes of this metaphor, we are ignoring the chance that the rubber band might snap in half).

I’ve spent hours debating, discussing and sharing. The other Fellows and I have thrashed over the moral implications of poverty alleviation and whether it works at all. I’ve questioned Acumen’s model and I’ve learned about the challenges faced by social investment funds. We spent a whole week just discussing the literary works of the greats: Martin Luther King Jr., Plato, Rachel Carson, Nelson Mandela and many more. I received some of the most impressive tactical training in a wide range of areas from networking to negotiation skills, marketing at the base of the pyramid (BoP) and story telling. We met with many extremely successful and impressive people associated with the Acumen Fund and many of them had their own way of challenging us to discover our inner passions.

Just when I thought I had my life plan figured out, someone would ask me a question that turned it upside down again. These conversations have lead me to many healthy questions about who I am, what I stand for, where I want to go in life and why I do the things I do – like writing this blog. The questions are good, and I hope they keep coming. I recognize that you can only find the core of who you are if you keep asking again and again. I suppose you’re curious what I’ve learned, well here it is: I recognize that I have an unceasing appetite to learn and create new things and that I love cultivating myself and others. Time will tell what exactly I end up doing, but I’m fairly certain that what I do next year and beyond will depend on what ideas I have that resonate with the core of who I am. I’m also fairly certain that I’ll keep rediscovering that core.

More important than all of the above, however, is that I am leaving NYC with nine new best friends – the other fellows. You can imagine that when you spend nearly 24 hours a day together for two straight months, discussing your hopes and dreams and passions and beliefs, you start to get to know one another. Thankfully, I’m bringing one with me – Benje. It’s been just two months since we met, but Benje feels like a brother to me…the kind of person who you don’t feel awkward around when theres silence or when you need to borrow something of theirs without asking – like family.

During the next nine months, I’ll be helping to build low-income housing in Pakistan at a small start-up and I’m eager to discover which parts of the experience resonate with me. I probably need more than this year to emerge from my cocoon as a butterfly, but I know that I will return stretched and ready for the next challenge.

- Bryan

Does God really look that different to you, dear Lahore?

2010-11-17T08:34:00.002+03:00

Since I arrived in Pakistan less than a week ago, there’s been one major thing that’s separated Lahore from all the other cities I’ve been: Around every corner, around every intersection, around every driveway, there’s bound to be some type of goat lying on the pavement, a sheep eating straw, or a camel playing with the kids in the alley.

Not what you were expecting me to say? Yes, Pakistan is a Muslim country in South Asia, thousands of miles from the US, with a reputation as the most dangerous country in the world. But I’m realizing that it’s not that different, when you dig a little deeper and begin to replace assumptions with questions.

Take the animals, for example. After asking a few questions, I learned that they would be slaughtered, shared with family and the marginalized, and eaten in honor of today’s holiday, Eid-ul-Adha. Yes, that still sounded kinda exotic, but then I learned what the holiday represents: a celebration of an event both the Christian and Jewish faith also hold dear, when the obedience and faith of Abraham (Ibrahim) to sacrifice his son on Mt. Moriah was rewarded by a ram substitute that God (Allah) provided.

While this has been an interesting revelation, it was actually one that I had been marginally prepped for back in New York. A few weeks ago, the Fellows and I visited the NY Public Library on 5^th Ave (one block away from my old job) where they have a special exhibition called “Three Faiths: Judaism, Christianity, Islam.” As we walked from section to section – reviewing scriptures and artifacts from hundreds and thousands of years ago – the underlying theme became clear: The three religions are actually more similar than different. As the NY Times put it: out of many, one. Although we’re all keen to highlight why our religion is better, the reality is that the similarities are alarming. For example, each religion is founded on the idea of monotheism (one God), upholds the importance of Abraham, supports the revelation of God through prophets, and claims those revelations are documented in canonical written texts.

In the same way that the media loves to share bad news, I’m realizing that humanity has been increasingly guilty of tirelessly promoting the differences between societies, rather than focusing on how we are similar. Sure, differences are what make us unique, but what makes uniqueness beautiful is the ability to appreciate diversity within the context of our similarities. Alternatively, if we allow these differences to polarize and ostracize communities, diversity becomes a source of tension and degradation instead of the reflection of God’s creativity from which it was inspired.

My hope is that I can internalize and develop this appreciation during my 9 months in Pakistan, and especially as we enjoy the Eid festivities during the holiday season.

Our last night in NY and my love letter to Lahore

2010-11-11T04:58:00.003+03:00

Last night, the Acumen Fund had its annual Investor Gathering, where the Acumen community assembled in order to celebrate the past and upcoming years, and to send the Acumen Fellows off to our respective countries (Kenya/India/ China/Pakistan). The ten of us are flying out today, so we presented “love letters” to the cities we will be meeting in less than 48 hours. While I should be able to post video footage of all the Fellows soon, I wanted to share my letter before I board my flight in a few hours.

Dear Lahore,

You were the girl that I was never supposed to like

The relationship that was never supposed to be

No, not a great way to start a love letter, so let’s start with history

Black American

Christian community

Unrepentantly republican region

Teachers who think Pakistan is actually Afghanistan

And a heart, that is already in love

In love with the Mathare slum of Kenya, and the 20 guys on my football team that launched an internet café this past July in pursuit of dignity. In love with the 10 widows in the Kibera slum, who struggle from HIV but are brave enough to create their own businesses, feed their children, and invest in their future. In love with the highschoolers that I tutor in the Tembisa township in South Africa and the kids that I coach in Harlem.

In love with

My 7 month niece

8 adopted siblings

2 parents

80 year old grandpa

and handful of extended family and friends from California to Costa Rica to New York

So in love that I’m scared to love another

Scared to take on another’s burdens

And even more scared to share mine

Scared that love spread thin really isn’t love at all

And to be honest, dear Lahore, you seemed okay with that

The car bombings aired on TV, the kidnappings posted online, the wars screened in the cinema
All seemed to send the same message

That you weren’t that interested in my love

But then I started listening

· not to the naysayers and their bombings

· or the news and their kidnappings

· or the naïve and their wars

But to you, dear Lahore…

To Dr. Ahmad from Pharmagen

To Asim and Zahoor from the 2010 Fellows class

To my brother and 2011 Fellow Khuram

And I started questioning…

What does poverty and injustice look like to you?

How does happiness and laughter sound and what does family mean?

How does love feel and

Does God really look that different to you?

And quietly, dear Lahore, you’ve started to answer

And quietly, dear Lahore, I’m falling for you...

With constantly growing love,
Benje

Am I poor? AHAs from the concrete jungles of NY pt 2

2010-11-05T19:37:00.001+03:00

Photo credit: NY Times

Last week I shared a few AHAs from the perspective of a young man (me) living below the poverty line on the streets of NY. Through conversations with Stereo, Sam, a number of social workers/volunteers/etc., there were a few additional lessons that I didn't share – partly because I didn't have space but also because I needed to process these more. So, I wanted to take a few quick minutes to get these out and see if there are any thoughts/comments.

Being poor is often about choices

When I met Stereo, he was sitting outside of the St. Apostles soup kitchen on 9th Ave and 28th St. It was at 12:40pm and I had just missed the clam chowder lunch, but Stereo was capping it off with a bag of $4 Tahiti cookies from Pepperidge Farm. He would later tell me that these are his favorite cookies, and that he prefers to have them with milk (Don’t give me no soda. Soda’s what junkies drink with cookies). He turned down the pair of Dockers and the American Eagle shirt that his friend Sam had offered to me, as he didn’t like the fashion and already had a similar shirt. And he refuses to apply for welfare, because he believes the jobs they offer are dehumanizing.

Throughout the day, I began to realize that it’s because of these decisions that Stereo doesn’t consider himself poor. Acumen Fund’s CEO has often said that poverty is about choice. And that choice is dignity. Stereo has found a way to eat the cookies he wants, with the milk he wants. He’s developed his own fashion style. He has a preference for the women he dates (which is another discussion!), and he likes to host parties after he’s saved up enough money from selling cigarettes, singing in Washington Square Park, and telling jokes on the 1 line. So even though his monthly income is below the US poverty line, Stereo has clearly said that he doesn’t consider himself poor, and my guess is that the choices he’s able to make have a lot to do with this declaration.

It’s expensive to live below the poverty line

If being poor is about the absence of choices that Stereo or Sam or I can make, then the system is tragically relentless at promoting poverty. As I trudged from Western Union, to Bank of America, to AT&T – in hopes of utilizing various services available to someone with limited income – I realized how many additional fees I would be paying, simply because I didn’t have a minimum amount in my personal checking… er, piggy bank.

Let’s not even discuss the prices that I would have had to pay at American Dental, a disturbingly life-draining doctor’s office lined with shining posters of people that starkly contrasted with the 11 black patients sitting anxiously inside. Even “affordable” housing (read: the projects) would cost me up to $1,000 a month, and I would have to wait 6 to 18 months in order to be placed.

Somehow, I don’t think this is the idea CK Prahalad was promoting when he coined the term fortune at the bottom of the pyramid.

Unanswered questions

At the end of the day, I sat back in the office with the rest of the Fellows, energized by the community and dignity I found in Stereo and Sam, but also discouraged by the system. 43 million people in the “most developed country in the world” is unfathomable, and yet the system seems to operate in a way that is set at persevering that figure. And unfortunately, the pinballing questions in my head have only increased: What can we do to help? How do we begin to transform the system? Is this purely I policy intervention, or are there practical actions that we can be taking?

Am I poor? AHAs from the concrete jungles of NY

2010-10-25T07:21:00.003+03:00

43 million people live in poverty in the US. Sadly (but not surprisingly), a disproportionate 1.8 million live in New York City. This past Monday, I had the opportunity to put a face, name, and several amazing stories to a few of these otherwise nameless statistics. I also had the chance to become one of the statistics.

The purpose of this post is to share a few things that I learned/affirmed/was surprised by/just need to get off my chest.

But first, a little background:

The 9 other Acumen Fellows and I came into the office Monday morning with the ambiguous instructions to wear comfortable shoes and vague guidance that the day was about exploring what it means to be poor in New York. We soon found out that this entailed individually exploring the effectiveness of social services provided by New York, from the perspective of poor individuals in the city.

Having written about the relativity of poverty in a global village just days before, I was extremely excited to further explore my theories; and after much internal debate, I decided this would be best accomplished by assuming the role of someone in a marginalized community. Ultimately, I believed this would encourage deeper conversations with marginalized individuals – and also force me to confront personal emotions, public reactions, societal stereotypes, etc. – in a way that I wasn’t able to during my previous two years living and volunteering in Harlem. I also believed the scenario I adopted – a recent transplant from CA who was struggling to establish himself – could easily be reality if one or two things turned out differently.

So – equipped with only 5 single dollar bills and a 2-ride metro card (i.e., no Blackberry, camera, iPod, etc.) –the 10 of us anxiously split up from our safe haven in the Meat Packing District, in hopes of better understanding poverty in NY. And after 7 tireless hours – and over 2 dozen conversations with people at places like the Urban Pathways drop in center, Holy Apostles Food Kitchen, Mainchance Shelter Home, St John’s food pantry, NY Human Resources Administration, Western Union, American Dental, a hot dog stand, a bagel cart and much more – we came back together to debrief/process with the Executive Director of the ACLU, Anthony Romero. Here’s a few AHAs I learned.

Marginalized is a term used for a reason

Within seconds of stepping on to a chilly and breezy 9^th Avenue, I felt poor. The 5 bills and MTA card weighed heavily in my pocket, reminding me that they were the only possessions I had. As a result, I quickly had to accept that the goods and services accessible an hour ago were now exclusively luxury items. Instead, I had to make trade-offs: the Onion instead of the New York Times; Walking instead of a taxi (or even the bus/subway); hope for a soup-kitchen lunch instead of a Starbucks breakfast.

Given this new awareness, I was immediately ostracized from the business woman, graphic designer, and NYU students walking down the street. I also felt extremely timid – scared to get lost, scared to lose my $5, scared to get hit by a car. I felt a timidness that I could only marginally compare to being the new (minority) student at an entirely homogenous high-school.

Social workers tear people down; marginalized communities build them back up

While visiting the various institutions – both government and nonprofit/faith-based – I was amazed at how poorly I was treated (yes, pun intended). One lady at a homeless shelter told me she didn’t have time to answer any more questions. Another told me I needed to leave unless I was going to produce identification. One gentleman gave me a stack of 100+ pages to read instead of answering my questions. I had to ask the perfect question to get any sort of answer. I had to speak boldly – which I didn’t do – in order to be recognized. I had to be subjected to the reality that this was just a job for the social worker, and I was another to-do item to check off the list as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, this was strongly juxtaposed by the experiences I had with nearly every marginalized community member I met. They accepted me with open arms (literally, in some cases), smiles, and stories of successes and failures within the system. One new friend, a gentleman named Sam in his mid-thirties from Harlem, even went as far as to offer me a pair of new Dockers that didn’t fit him and an Abercrombie shirt similar to one he already owned. Another new friend offered to walk me 15 blocks to a drop in center, after I was practically crucified at a shelter with which he’s also had problems. Another invited me to a monthly party he hosts in his projects. And each offered every piece of information possible about how to beat the institution that has treated them so dehumanizingly.

There’s real danger in stigmatizing

One of the closest friends I met during the day – a 59 year old New Yorker whose stories more than lived up to his nick name Stereo – forever changed how I think about people. I told him I had been struggling with the notion of poverty: who’s considered poor and what to do when people put that label on you? I’ll never forget his response: don’t ever let someone stigmatize you. All they are doing is depleting your confidence. 90% of the stuff you need in life will come from confidence. Don’t let anyone rob you of that.

These are words that have deeply impacted me, and a few of the lessons that will forever affect how I think about the poor (a term that I no longer feel comfortable using). Stay tuned as I plan to share more insights next week, and as the other Fellows share theirs (here, here and here).

Discussions with Jacqueline Novogratz: Global citizens and the relativity of poverty

2010-10-18T08:28:00.008+03:00

Whites often claim that Africans in South Africa were better off than Africans in the rest of the continent. Our complaint, I said, was not that we were poor by comparison with the people in the rest of Africa, but that we were poor by comparison with the whites in our country.

-Nelson Mandela

Why would you go work abroad when there’s plenty of poverty here in the US?

This is a question I’ve heard dozens of times, and – despite how tired I might get hearing it – the reality is that it's a great question. A question to which my answer has actually evolved over time.

When I began working full time in development, I would have naively argued that there’s no way anyone could compare, say, a single mother living in the States – even in a place like the Queensbridge projects – to the HIV widows that I worked with in the Mathare and Kibera slums. McDonalds for dinner versus one meal of maize and beans every two days just didn’t compare.

But after a year in Kenya and South Africa, I came to a number of related realizations: that poverty really is relative. That Nelson Mandela was right. And that when a single mother in NY shares the same street as hedge fund billionaires, poverty to her might feel the same as poverty feels to the women in Kenya.

This past week, the Acumen Fellows and I had the opportunity to talk with Jacqueline Novogratz, Acumen’s CEO, about a number of issues, including this notion of the relativity of poverty.

We discussed countries such as Kenya, who were much happier before they were infiltrated with forces from the west that forever captured their perception of happiness. No longer was the simple idea of, say, a united family and a decent living as appealing, given that the benchmark wasn’t their neighbor in Nairobi but their neighbors in New York, North Hollywood, the suburbs of New Haven, and any other city/town on TV.

Jacqueline identified this as a phenomenon where we are all global citizens, interconnected in a world where our actions (and inactions) have infinite and often unforeseen consequences on our global neighbors.

Mario + Jacqueline, cooking on our retreat

Given this reality, it shouldn’t be surprising that the idea of success and happiness in western culture has penetrated the developing world. What should be surprising, however, is that the information swap isn’t reciprocal. Specifically, it should be surprising (and disappointing) that although Kenya knows so much about the US, Americans know so embarrassingly little about Kenya.

Which returns to my earlier point: imagine if Americans really understood Kenya. If we knew that a mother might spend 25% of her life collecting water, or that the average family makes less than $2 a day, or that 1 child out of every 8 won’t make it to her 5^th birthday. And then imagine if we knew, and internalized, that there are billions of other mothers and families in hundreds of other countries that are even worse off than Kenya.

If that was the case, and we really understood the realities that our global neighbors faced, would not the lady in the Queensbridge project view the wealth and opportunities that she has much differently? Yes, she’ll still be poor compared to the hedge fund billionaire, but that will no longer be her only benchmark.

Kitchen clean up w/me + Chika

Am I suggesting that we should ignore the needs of those in our own country? Absolutely not. Am I suggesting that the mother in the Queens project has an easy life? Clearly not. What I am suggesting, however, is that if we really are global citizens, then the notion that poverty is relative should eventually become irrelevant. By making an effort to understand our global neighbors, to understand their struggles (and blessings), we will not only learn from them but will also develop an entirely new perspective on the circumstances and opportunities we’ve been given.

P.S. Helping share these stories is a significant part of what this blog is about!

The Acumen Fund Fellowship and learning how to sing

2010-10-03T01:20:00.014+03:00

3/10 of the Fellows at our leadership retreat

The night before my fellowship at Acumen began, I was sitting around the dinner table with my extended family in Long Island, discussing the program. About 20 bites in, I came to the sad realization that – although I’ve been openly talking about the fellowship for months now – I’ve evidently struggled to adequately explain it.

Yes, I describe Acumen as a venture capital firm that invests in social businesses throughout the developing world. Yes, I discuss our two-month training in NY that will prepare us for work in the field. And yes, I explain how my nine months on the ground will be spent consulting for a water investment in Pakistan.

But no, I’m not sure this message is clear…

Eight days later, I was in a training session with Acumen’s Director of Business Development, struggling through an exercise from a Stanford psychology experiment called tappers and listeners. Essentially, we were to use the enormous conference room table to tap (not hum or sing) a song, while our partner tried to listen and guess the song. As Sasha debriefed, I realized I’ve been falling into the same trap many in our space are also stuck in: tapping away to a song that most others have never heard.

I thought back to the dinner table – and dozens of other past conversations – and reflected on how many people must have been straining to listen as I rapidly tapped (or banged) away to songs in my head. I recognized that if we’re ever to sing along to the same tune, I need to do several things differently: simplify the message (e.g., take out the buzz words), share more stories, and allow my passion to come through.

These are things I’m working on, and I hope that my friends will continue to give me feedback – or blank stares – until my “singing” gets better. But so that they won’t be left in the dark until that day arrives, the Acumen team has put out a great video that seems to succeed in all the areas I’ve failed.

Hopefully, this will help us sing along together…

Costa Rica 2010: Snakes + Alligators + Bats + the Fam Bam!

2010-09-24T07:37:00.003+03:00

Below is a short and fairly deliquent (thank you Picasa) video from our summer trip to Costa Rica, featuring: a handful of kodak smiles, a herd of deadly animals, a mountain of breath-stealing views, and a psuedo-soundtrack by the retired djdub3!

Thoughts from Costa Rica: Education (plus) economics, equals...

2010-08-31T23:55:00.002+03:00

Our crucial weakness lies in our work with youth.

-Adolfo Rodriguez, Costa Rica's Social Well-Being Secretary

By the end of my senior year in college, I found myself stuck in the middle of a ruthless tug-of-war battle regarding what to do with my 16+ years as a student: On one side of the rope was the opportunity to teach in a low-income Bronx community with Teach for America (TFA) , and on the other was a career in management consulting in Manhattan. While the driving goal of both was to arrive at a point where I could more adequately pursue social entrepreneurship, the increasing pull from the former side caught me largely by surprise.

As a business major and entrepreneur, I recognized relatively early-on the power of economic development – and specifically entrepreneurship – in alleviating poverty throughout the globe. What the TFA opportunity (and many sleepless nights) taught me, however, is how profoundly interlinked education is as well. Feeling almost foolish for having been so one sided, I slowly realized that the two really couldn't be separated, and I started to deeply consider exploring the educational aspect of development.

Krysta with her students

For a number of reasons (that I won't get into now), I ultimately decided to stick with the economic route, but my sister, Krysta, pursued its counterpart. She accepted a position through AmeriCorps to teach in a Spanish speaking community for two years in central California, before moving to Costa Rica to start a tutoring center in an informal community called Los Guidos. Since 2008, she has been leveraging her experiences to forever change the lives of the youth in this all-too-often-neglected community on the outskirts of San Jose. She has also recruited my younger brother, Blake, to spend a year here, and work with the same organization while attending language school. For years, I've wanted to visit and learn more about the amazing work going on here, and this summer provided the perfect opportunity to do so.

Only hours into this journey, my college realizations about the power of education were being re-affirmed. As my parents and I departed San Jose CA – leaving behind my 6 brothers and sisters who would be starting jr. high and high school that week – we landed in San Jose CR, where over 10,000 university students were marching for increased funding for research and scholarships. Their central message was the same realization that I began exploring several years ago, and that Krysta and her group have been pursuing daily: to invest in education is to invest responsibly in democracy and development for the good of all the inhabitants of our generation.

Meggan :)

During the few trips that I made to Los Guidos, Krysta's students confirmed that this generational development was exactly what was happening. As Meggan flawlessly read the Bernstein Bears in Spanish, Julio meticulously subtracted 34 from 78, Christopher enthusiastically matched the "5" card with the same number of lizards, and a mom eagerly introduced two of her kids to Krysta, I thought about the types of opportunities these 60+ kids will be able to pursue one day, as a result of their education. I thought about how much more adequately they were being prepared to handle the challenges of the world. I thought about how they could become great entrepreneurs, but how entrepreneurship would no longer be their only option to better themselves and their family. I thought about a sign a student held at the university protest – Power comes from knowledge; knowledge comes from education – and how Krysta was forever empowering this generation to better their lives and the greater community of Los Guidos.

Heading back to CA and soon to NY, I leave Costa Rica with a renewed sense of appreciation for this type of empowerment, and with excitement that my employer is exploring the possibility of investing in the education sector. I also leave with a strong sense of inspiration from the work that Krysta and Blake (and their friends) are doing – as they invest in development for the good of all the inhabitants of our generation – so that one day, the above quote from A. Rodriguez will be read – not in the daily newspaper – but in history books throughout the country.

We Shall Overcome: The launch of the CT Cyber + Resource Centre

2010-08-12T06:14:00.000+03:00

With this faith, we shall go out and adjourn the councils of despair. And bring new light into the dark chambers of pessimism. And we will be able to rise, from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope... We shall overcome.
-Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Back in Kenya, crowded in a small 7x7 foot room in the Mathare slum, the Community Transformers (CT) crew and I sunk deeper into our chairs as we discussed all of the seemingly monstrous set backs for the rapidly approaching launch of the CT Cyber + Resource Centre: stall tactics and bribe requests for our government license, a lost credit card, an unresponsive internet service provider, a greedy hike in rent from our landlord, inflated costs for the network connection, delays in our posters and banners, misprinted t-shirts, and a dozen other speed bumps posing as road blocks. With our launch party only 4 days away and the newly constructed desks and freshly painted walls of our Resource Centre completely computer-less, the spirits of our 20-plus member team began to slowly (or perhaps rapidly) shutdown.

Taking a break from the blank stares into our Excel work plan and endless to-do list, I scrolled through my iTunes mindlessly. Partly in jest but mostly in desperation, I started playing Dr. King’s We Shall Overcome speech. Around the fifth time Dr. King repeats that that well known but so easily forgotten declaration, something magical happened: We realized how profoundly his words – spoken 45 years ago to a deeply segregated American South – related directly to us in an ostracized slum in East Africa. Within a few minutes, the whole team was speaking in harmony with Dr. King as he continued to repeat the declaration: deep in my heart, I do believe, we shall overcome.

Over the next four days – and with our new motto repeated tirelessly – miracle after miracle brought us closer and closer to our launch deadline. With the funds transferred three days before the launch, the computers installed with two days remaining, the photocopier delivered the day before, the internet connected the morning of and the software installed with minutes to spare, the Resource Centre was miraculously operational as Steve and Nick cut the ribbon to the cheers of hundreds of observers. As the acrobats flipped, the performers sang and Njenga gave a speech, I couldn’t help but shake my head in near disbelief: God must really like performing miracles!

Over plates of chicken, goat and rice that evening, we each shared lessons we learned over the past several months (and especially the past 4 weeks). After a relieved and humble asante sana to all the CT members and our sponsor in the States, Charles Alulo, one of CT’s founders, reminded us all of that fateful moment in the office, when the team rose from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope. He reflected on how life always throws us challenges – something that Mathare knows all too well – but that God never allows anything bigger than we can handle and that he works all things together for good if we are faithful and perseverant.

Mike, one of the older CT members who was an invaluable help with the Centre, went on to shared an Erwin McManus quote that he thought prophetically described CT, their journey and struggles over the past 5 years, and specifically the possibilities for the Resource Centre:

There comes a point where crawling isn’t enough. Though we fall over and over again, we fight our way to our feet, and we begin to walk. Walking is great until we can run, and running is great until we can drive, and for some of us, driving is not fast enough – we just have to fly.

A 12 month death sentence, for a 12 year old girl

2010-07-28T18:13:00.000+03:00

Xoli (pronounced Koli) is just a girl. 12 years old and full of life. She laughs contagiously at Raven Symone on the Disney Channel, has posters of Miley Cyrus decorating her bedroom wall, herds stuffed animals on her twin-sized top bunk bed, and wears bright yellow sneakers and orange t-shirts. If she lived in one of South Africa's bordering countries, however, she would be none of this. She would have rather not made it to her 12th birthday.

Underneath Xoli's fuzzy corn rows and subtle smiles is a disease that 285 million live with throughout the world: diabetes. Unlike the rest of the world, however, this disease is most often fatal in the developing world. In neighboring Mozambique, a child who develops diabetes is likely to die within one year… A 12 month death sentence.

As unimaginable as this is to process, it's tragically the reality for millions. Unlike the more commonly known infectious diseases (HIV/AIDs, tuberculosis, malaria) diabetes is a noncommunicable disease (NCD) that has slowly snuck into the continent. Its prevalence is hovering around 3-5% in most African countries and is expected to grow to nearly 20% by 2030, as diets (read: more sugar) and lifestyles (read: less physical activity) of the poor continue to evolve. Ironically, this is one of the unpredicted consequences of the increased income and development that countries have enjoyed.

And to complicate things, health systems throughout the continent are completely unequipped to manage diabetes. Medical professionals aren't trained to diagnose the disease, let alone treat it. Equipment (e.g., meters, syringes, etc.) is scarcely available. And without government policies, diabetic drugs are beyond unaffordable – for example, a year's supply of unsubsidized insulin can cost almost $200, while the majority of the bottom of the pyramid makes less than $2 a day.

Fortunately, it appears as if progress is being made, as evidenced by the project that I supported during my two month assignment in South Africa: a pan African leadership forum focusing on diabetes and other NCDs. In collaboration with a major international pharmaceutical company, the South African Ministry of Health, and the International Diabetes Federation, Dalberg (my employer) is designing this first-of-its-kind conference with the aim of creating policy, raising donor funding, and stimulating general awareness for diabetes. If successful, a number of new diabetes/NCD programs will be catalyzed and funded throughout the continent, and governments will develop and implement national diabetes policies.

As for Xoli, she can continue to worry about her upcoming mathematics exam and spelling quiz – as she was when I first met her – instead of how she will make it to the hospital for treatment or afford insulin. She's found a home at Marang House, a nonprofit organisation that provides a stable home-environment to disadvantaged children suffering from diseases such as chronic renal failure and diabetes. Here, she is given the treatment she needs and makes daily trips to the hospital, while living in a comfortable and loving environment that is void of the traumatic culture faced in traditional hospitals.

Run by a friend of mine after his dad (and the founder) passed away, this home is truly providing "a ray of the sun that gives hope," as its Tswana name would suggest. The hope is that this same ray will begin to shine on the rest of Southern Africa and throughout the Continent.

Mandela's 92nd birthday and the first annual Nelson Mandela International Day

2010-07-18T21:03:00.000+03:00

Today is Nelson Mandela's 92 birthday and the first annual Nelson Mandela Day, a celebration of Madiba's life created to inspire people from every corner of the world to embrace the values that have embodied his life and to recognize their individual ability to make an imprint and change the world around them.

Thinking about this celebration, I remember two days before my own (26th) birthday, when I stepped on to a ferry to tour Robben Island, the prison facility in Cape Town where Mandela spent over 17 years of his life (before spending another 10 at two other facilities). Over 27 years in total: The realization that he had spent my entire life time – plus another year – was enough to feel as if the weight of Table Mountains was crushing my head!

After a wavy 20 minute ferry ride, I quickly realized that the surrealism was only just beginning.

Standing in front of the prison yard, our tour guide introduced himself as Mandezi Mncedisis, an ex-political prisoner who was on the Island the same time as Mandela. As he pointed out various sites – the lime quarry, Mandela's cell, the prison yard, the kitchen and dining hall – his humble voice, subtle smile and cautious tone resurrected stories from Mandela's autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom. Discussions regarding the apartheid struggle while digging in the lime quarries; hunger strikes to protest beatings and detestable living conditions; smugglings of newspapers and notes between prisoners; letters that Madiba wrote to his wife Winnie; solidarity confinement when caught smuggling; and early manuscripts of Long Walk to Freedom that were buried/hidden in the dirt of the prison yard.

As these stories came to life, the sacrifice, perseverance, courage, humility, forgiveness, and love of Madiba became even more incomprehensible. Sitting back in Nairobi – thinking about the magic, country-wide unification created by the World Cup and the challenges (or opportunities?) that still lay ahead – words from Madiba's autobiography have developed a new and profound significance, and I wanted to share a few of them here...

Perhaps it requires such depth of oppression to create such heights of character… I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. I felt fear myself more times than I can remember, but I hid it behind a mask of boldness. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear...

I am no more virtuous or self-sacrificing than the next man, but I found that I could not even enjoy the poor and limited freedoms I was allowed when I knew my people were not free. Freedom is indivisible; the chains on any one of my people were the chains on all of them, the chains on all of my people were the chains on me...

No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for loves comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite...

I knew as well as I knew anything that the oppressor must be liberated just as surely as the oppressed. A man who takes away another man's freedom is a prisoner of hatred, he is locked behind the bars of prejudice and narrow-mindedness. I am not truly free if I am taking away someone else's freedom, just as surely as I am not free when my freedom is taken from me. The oppressed and the oppressor alike are robbed of their humanity.

When I walked out of prison, that was my mission, to liberate the oppressed and the oppressor both. Some say that has now been achieved. But I know that that is not the case. The truth is that we are not yet free; we have merely achieved the freedom to be free, the right not to be oppressed. We have not taken the final step of our journey, but the first step on a longer and even more difficult road. For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others. The true test of our devotion to freedom is just beginning.

Happy Nelson Mandela Day.

Madiba's cell

World Cup highlight pt.2: A photo montage from South Africa

2010-07-10T20:12:00.000+03:00

The 2010 World Cup officially ends tomorrow, and I'm still in shock (slash slightly depressed) that the tournament has gone by so quickly (and that Brasil is not in the finals?)!

So much has happened over the past 30 days, that I quickly realized it's impossible to recap everything in one blog post. So, I'm hoping that my pixelated camera phone and this resulting photo montage can do much better!

World Cup highlight pt.1: A rainbow with no ending

2010-06-18T23:15:00.002+03:00

On June 11, 2010 – with the roaring boom of five fighter flyers and the equally thunderous trumpeting of thousands of vuvuzelas – the day Africa and much of the world had been waiting decades for finally kicked off: the opening ceremony and match of Africa's first ever World Cup.

With nearly 1 billion people tuning in throughout the globe and a crowd of nearly 85,000 in the Johannesburg stadium, I felt like Charlie singing I've got a Golden Ticket as our double-decker bus floated merrily towards Soccer City, Africa's version of the Chocolate Factory.

If the vuvuzelas on the bus weren't a loud enough awakening that this wasn't a fantasy world, the bright Ronald McDonald colored wigs and jump suits definitely were. As the masses migrated towards the rainbow colored Soccer City stadium, songs of South African freedom, victory and unity completed the scene by coloring the air with a cloudless, bright blue backdrop.

Two fans in particular paid respect to the man who inspired and gave meaning to many of these songs, as they circled the stadium holding a 3x5 banner of Nelson Mandela with the words Madiba has made this possible. As I thought about Madiba and the impossible dream he had of a unified Rainbow Nation, I was reminded of scenes from the film Invictus, where millions of white South Africans were shocked by the support of black South Africans as the national rugby team surprised the world by winning the Rugby World Cup, a traditionally white sport in SA.

Fifteen years later, I was equally speechless to see the number of Afrikaners supporting a game that's viewed in South Africa as a black sport. Regardless of color, a white South African at the match told me that Afrikaners had not forgotten the support blacks showed them in 1995. This is South Africa's tournament, he proudly proclaimed.

It was a powerful reminder of how insignificant our racial differences can be. At the opening concert, Nobel Peace Prize winner Desmond Tutu solidified this reality when he addressed the crowd in Soweto – the Harlem of South Africa – and the audience across the world: We are all Africans... Thank you for helping this ugly ugly caterpillar become a beautiful beautiful butterfly.

And sitting at the match – in between a group of five Afrikaner miners, an English couple, and a Zulu mother and her daughter – this butterfly seemed to reach new heights, as Tshabalaba rocketed a shot into the back of the net for Bafana Bafana and the entire stadium erupted into euphoria.

As I was texting about the goal with my family in Kenya, Gchatting with my sister in Costa Rica, BBMing with my friend in India, and emailing the rest of my family/friends back in the States, I was reminded how small and interconnected this world really is. As Desmond Tutu said, Africa is the cradle of humanity. We're all Africans. Although we might be cheering for different teams, chanting in different languages or wearing different colored jerseys, we're all distant relatives and collectively our different colors create a unified rainbow.

Now if only we can discover how to ensure that rainbow extends beyond the final match.

Soccer City

Pre game shenanigans

No comment :)

The best Mother's Day present ever

2010-05-09T18:16:00.000+03:00

Back in October, I read a Daily Nation article that forever embedded an image in my mind: an overly pregnant 30 year old woman on the corner of a muddy, plastic polluted street in the slums of Nairobi – sitting with extended legs – giving birth to her first born child. With the nearest hospital or maternity clinic over 30 minutes away and without access to an ambulance, this commuting mother was unexpectedly forced to introduce her son immediately to the painful reality of life in poverty.

Given that there were (miraculously) no complications during her road side delivery, this new mother will be one of the billions celebrating Mother's Day today. Tragically, however, there are millions a year that aren't able to celebrate, as more than 500,000 would be mothers die each year during pregnancy. Perhaps the true tragedy, however, is that over 95% of these deaths occur in developing countries and are largely preventable.

Here's the good news though: for the nearly 1 million mothers in East Africa's slums that give birth each year, next year might bring a new reason to celebrate, as a new social venture called Jacaranda Health is seeking to transform the way maternity care is provided in these informal communities. Founded by a former colleague of mine from Acumen Fund, Nick Pearson, this social enterprise will be combining business and clinical innovations to create a fully self-sustaining and scalable chain of clinics that provide reproductive health services to poor urban women. Specifically, Jacaranda's strategy centers around two core services: mobile vans/ambulances and maternity clinics, and the plan is to pilot the model in Nairobi and then to scale up to 30 clinics within the next 5 years.

And here's more good news: you can become involved. Out of over 300 applicants, Jacaranda has made it into the top 10 finalist for Ashoka's Changemakers competition, and if they are voted into the top 3, they will receive up to $30,000 in grant funding. The winners are chosen by popular vote, so Jacaranda needs as many as possible to log in and vote (you can do so here). The process takes a few minutes (you have to register first) and has to be done before Tuesday, but it's definitely worth the small effort!

In the words of Ashoka: Everyone has a mother. Everyone is a changemaker. Join us and change the world so that all women can give life.

And of course, a Mother's Day post would be far from complete without a Happy Mother's Day shout out to my own Mom, who not coincidentally is the source of my passion for social enterprise, human justice, equality and basically everything pure and beautiful. Thanks for everything Mom – I still haven't figured out how you do it!

Mom and the Williams football squad!

How hip hop is remixing South Africa, America and freedom

2010-05-02T23:32:00.005+03:00

On April 27, 1994, millions of blacks throughout South Africa entered polling stations for the first time, exercising their political freedom now that the evil chains of apartheid had finally been broken. After more than three centuries of rule by the minority, power was handed over to the majority, and the country's future looked promising. During his Presidential Victory Speech, Nelson Mandela – South Africa's first black president – connected this historic day with the dream of Martin Luther King Jr.: And now the joy that we can loudly proclaim from the rooftops – Free at last! Free at last!

Just as Dr. King claimed the Emancipation Proclamation in the US came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves, Mandela considered April 27 as one of the most important moments in the life of our country. So in celebration of this historic day – now a national holiday called Freedom Day – I journeyed to downtown Joburg to a hip hop festival in the often-forgotten industrial area of Newtown.

Underneath the Henry Nxumalo Street overpass, graffiti danced across each inch of the 50 foot vertical concrete columns, as artists freestyled history lessons about oppression, segregation and inequality to hundreds of waving hands and camera phones, while breakdancers twirled to the beats of Grand Master Flash and hundreds of bobbing heads and video cameras.

During the final break dance competition (video below), it was as if every back spin, head slide, hand stand and shoulder drop was a silent reverb of Mandela's victorious words from his Free at Last speech. I half expected the final song to be from Afrika Bambaataa, the New York DJ and "Godfather" of hip hop who founded the Zulu Nation and often sampled Dr. King speeches in his break beats.

And yet, as is often the case with hip hop (and life), the story behind the celebration was much deeper than it first appeared.

The irony that Freedom Day was being commemorated via hip hop – a culture that originated in a neglected neighbourhood in the South Bronx as a form of resistance and revolution – was not happenstance. Given the social context of the time, hip hop emerged as a language for the oppressed and a voice for the marginalized, two categories with which black South Africans are more than familiar.

Nasir Jones – a revolutionary hip hop artist from the Queensbridge Projects in NY – once rapped about the American Thanksgiving holiday: I call your holiday hell-day, cause I'm from poverty, neglected by the wealthy. As the DJ played a song by this same artist, I began to realize that this festival was more of a rally for justice, equality and dignity, and the cry for a true freedom day, not an UnFreedom Day, as thousands have begun to call it.

Unfortunately, this title seems much more appropriate, as the Sowetan newspaper – a South African publication with a readership of 2 million – shared a number of reasons why it has gained popularity:

Yesterday – April 27 – should have been the happiest and most celebrated day in the history of South Africa. But at least 58 percent of our compatriots were lucky to be able to share a loaf of bread. Some had nothing to eat for the whole day. Countless others shivered through the cold night in makeshift homes… More and more people are falling into this web of hopelessness. Like during apartheid days, colour circumscribes the geography of our lives. Blacks live in unkept townships; the area in which a school is situated determines if your child is going to pass or fail; and whites still carry the money bags.

Both in the US and in South Africa, it's clear that political freedom and economic freedom are two very different destinations, and that much needs to change in order for true freedom to be reached. Just as the Negro live[d] on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity 100 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, Mandela has recognized how much still needs to be done in order for Dr. King's dream to truly be realized and a Freedom Day to be celebrated by all:

The truth is that we are not yet free; we have merely achieved the freedom to be free, the right not to be oppressed. We have not taken the final step of our journey, but the first step on a longer and even more difficult road. For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others. The true test of our devotion to freedom is just beginning.

Self fulfilled prophecies: robbery, solitary confinement and life in Africa

2010-04-17T15:29:00.004+03:00

Setting foot on to South African soil for the first time last Sunday, my step was intentionally light and my pockets noticeably empty, filled instead with the scores of cautions received prior to departing and the resulting anxious expectation of essentially getting held at gun point before my luggage even arrived.

Instead of dreaming about the Table Mountains of Cape Town or the harmonies of the Soweto String Quartet, I was being attacked by the 52 murders a day, the 15,000 robberies a month, or the 500,000 assaults a year. Just as I was first cautioned about life in Nairobi (or "Nairobbery"), South Africa was a place where you couldn't ask a stranger for directions. Couldn't drive with your window down or your bag in the front seat. Couldn't walk during the night, or even ride a bike during the day.

This is the paranoia birthed by fear.

Instead of getting physically robbed, however, I've been mentally and spiritually robbed. Robbed of opportunities to initiate new friendships, engage in new conversations, experience new sites, enjoy new smells, inspire new change. The real thief has not been the guy standing on the corner, but the guy running around my head. And my punishment has been equally (if not more) damaging: solitary confinement in a gated, barbed wire and alarm-enabled cottage in the suburbs of Craighall.

This is the creation of self fulfilled prophecies.

Obviously this is a never ending battle that probably every traveller (and even local) fights, and clearly there are reasons why this war exists in the first place (three of which are listed above). But my concern is that I'm ultimately a victim of my own defense strategies, and that -- by fighting for my protection and safety instead of for the ability to live a complete and fulfilled life -- I end up losing much more than just my wallet and laptop.

Failed plans, extended journeys, and Johannesburg

2010-04-10T18:12:00.000+03:00

On August 3, 2009 – with the help of my cousin who works at American Airlines – I flew standby out of JFK on flight 116 to Nairobi. Stepping out of Jomo Kenyatta Airport to a warm Kenyan afternoon, my plan was to consult for six months with a number of social enterprises, and then return to Harlem equipped with the experiences and insights gained from the base of the pyramid (BoP). Eights months later and still in Kenya, I've realized that – despite being a consultant – my plans rarely work out, and those insights are far from developed.

As I've said numerous times of late, poverty is a very complicated crisis, and it was definitely optimistic (read: naïve) of me to think that six months would reveal the type of sustainable solutions I was hoping. Although every opportunity I've had has been nothing short of transforming, collectively they've taught me how much I still have to learn.

So with that realization, the trip – which has evolved into more of a journey – will continue tomorrow as I board another flight, heading further south, to the land of Stephen Biko, Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela, and the 2010 World Cup.

With a GDP more than 10x that of Kenya's and per capita income of more than $13,000, South Africa is by far the most developed country in sub-Sahara Africa. Yet despite this economic success, poverty is still rampant, with more than 45% of Black Africans still living in poverty and the highest HIV rate in the continent. Socially torn by the weapons of apartheid, the country seems to have a racial tension that I've only imagined in the Jim Crow American south. The result: Blacks are still stuffed into the same slums (or townships) they were exiled into during apartheid, their unemployment is over 44%, and the homicide rate is over 50% (10x higher than the second worst country in Africa).

Overwhelmed with these types of statistics, stories and rumors, I'm extremely eager (and anxious) to dig deeper, uncover truths, and hopefully identify (existing and potential) solutions. My prayer (not plan!) is that my project at Dalberg will provide these opportunities, and that I can also become involved with different community based organizations in the townships (e.g., Soweto, Alexandria, etc.). Either way, I'm excited to board the next leg of the journey, and am definitely looking forward to blogging from Joburg soon!

I'll also really miss all my friends and family in Nairobi, a few of whom are pictured below .

Njenga and O at a Community Transformers' concert in Mathare

Manasa and Leah at my "see you later" happy hour with Acumen

Ngong Hills hike with the family (not pictured) over Easter weekend

Cyber cafés and the death of the Dark Continent

2010-04-03T16:33:00.000+03:00

In 1878, a European explorer known as Henry Stanley authored a book called Through the Dark Continent, coining a (controversial) term for the continent of Africa in order to romantically describe the unknown and underexplored region of the world.

In 2007, a PhD student from Carnegie Melon created the above visualization of Internet connection across the globe, noting that Africa -- despite being explored and well-known now -- remains ironically labelled the Dark Continent.

In 2010, the Community Transformers (CT) and I set out to start a cyber café in the Mathare community, optimistically hoping to add a dot to the map and help erase the Dark Continent label once and forever.

According to a recent report, only 5.5% of Kenyans own computers and 83% lack access to the Internet While the skyrocketing usage of mobile phones in the past 5 years should be celebrated -- with experts forecasting 100% penetration by 2013 -- functionality on mobile phones continues to be limited (e.g., only a small percentage have Internet, certain programs/media can't be accessed, speed is slow, typing is difficult, etc.). As a result, cyber cafés have become the primary location of Internet connection.

In Mathare, however, the number of cyber cafés is extremely limited, specifically where CT is located. This area, known as Mathare Area 3, is a region with over 150,000 residents that is currently served by one lone cyber café (although there are 3 in the area 15 minutes away). For this reason, CT has realized the opportunity to profitably and sustainably serve this unmet need by providing a full service, high-end 15 computer cyber café. They envision that this café would also provide additional information and communication technology (ICT) services not found anywhere else in Mathare (e.g., photocopying, laminating, color printing), and will help address computer illiteracy by offering computer courses.

This small and medium enterprise (SME) will be extremely important for CT as well, given that the organization is a nonprofit exclusively dependent on donor funding. Through the cyber café, CT will be meeting the needs of Mathare Area 3 -- spreading their mission of a more holistic, self reliant and healthier community -- and also generating income that can be used to support its other charity based departments (e.g., the orphan rescue center, home visits for HIV patients, youth sports, etc.). The potential is endless, and the hope is that this will be one of several SMEs that CT establishes (another being the entertainment hall, written about here).

Over the past month or two, we have been working diligently to conduct the necessary research and preparation for this venture, and have organized this diligence into a business plan. Although I've started a few business plans in the past -- and reviewed hundreds at Acumen Fund -- this is the first that I've ever completed, and we're extremely excited about how it turned out. (Now we just need founders to be equally excited!)

In 2015 then, our hope is that CT's Cyber will have served almost 300,000 Mathare residents, generated over $50,000 net income, and helped catalyze the elimination of the Dark Continent label, both in Mathare and throughout Africa.

Note: let me know if you would like to look over a copy of the business plan -- we would love any additional input!

The first annual World [water] Cup!

2010-03-22T23:35:00.003+03:00

Throughout the globe today, communities will be celebrating World Water Day, an annual occasion catalyzed by the United Nations in 1993 to focus attention on the sustainable management of water resources. Remembering my first trek to the dirt football pitch in the Mathare slum several months ago, I realize now that perhaps nowhere else is this year's message of water quality more relevant than in the slums of Nairobi.

Squeezing between rows of shanties with a fellow board member from Community Transformers (CT) – a community based organization that's focused on creating a healthier and more holistic community in Mathare – I was suddenly saved from stepping in a pile of defecation. What he didn't need to point out was that this pile would eventually be washed by the rain down to the Nairobi River a few meters away, where mothers would be cleaning clothes, children wildly splashing each other, and fathers taking sips from their hands during work breaks.

Despite the selection of Nairobi as the location for this year's Official World Water Day Event and this behemoth crisis to spread water quality messages to these Mathare families, it appears as if informal communities are noticeably absent in the agenda. Brainstorming this dilemma a few weeks ago with David Kuria, the CEO of Ecotact (recently written about here), we decided a World [water] Cup would be the perfect venue to spread the gospel.

We envisioned this event to be as magnificent as the title implied, with eight championship teams, thousands of fans, five performing groups, four corporate sponsors, numerous media houses, the deputy mayor as a special guest, and a first place prize of 10,000 Kenyan shillings, a goat, a trophy and a Roto water tank.

Despite the extremely short time frame – and with the support of CT as the on the ground organizer – the referee's whistle this past Saturday marked the official kickoff of everything we had envisioned. As if on cue, a brief set of raindrops began to darken the thirsty brown colored pitch – World [water] Cup had begun. Little boys and girls skipped up and down the sidelines and climbed trees to see over the masses. The deejay played Bob Marley and shouted swift Swahili commentary. The Zanaki Acrobats constructed a human pyramid, pinnacled with an 11 year old in a handstand. Roto and the other sponsors handed out flyers and discussed water management techniques, while Ecotact distributed beverages and shared the various water challenges experienced operating their Ikotoilet facility adjacent to the field.

Within no time at all, the two championship teams – CT United and Mathare Tsunami – faced off in true World Cup fashion, with a penalty kick shoot-out concluding a scoreless championship match. Having been subbed out towards the end of the second half, I watched restlessly as the two teams tensely battled back and forth: each team responding to the other's penalty kick, until CT United's striker hooked his shot to the left, leaving the tournament (and the prizes) wide open for Tsunami. As if following a movie script, the final Tsunami striker approached the goal, pulled out a water bottle from his shorts, took a big drink and splashed his face, and buried the ball in the back right corner of the net.

After the 20 minute celebration had finally quieted down – and CT United had slowly risen from the dirt pitch – the awards were presented while the golden sun began to set over the brown tin roofs in the Mathare Valley.

As the music began to fade and the Acumen Fund members shared their business cards with the sponsors, it was exciting to see the level of private partnership in promoting both the health and economy of informal communities. As the general manager from Chandaria Industries – a regional tissue products company – commented: We're a part of this greater community, whether we realize it or not, and we need to invest in them and explore innovative solutions to meet their needs.

He concluded by expressing a desire to see the World [water] Cup annualized and rolled out to other slums, which is exactly what we are planning!

Note: additional pictures taken by brilliant friends/photographers can be seen here, and slightly different versions of this article are available on Next Billion and Acumen Fund's blog.

Emerging trends: Toilet parties in the Nairobi slums

2010-03-04T23:44:00.001+03:00

The following is a post that I was planning to write for my personal blog, but was asked by Rob Katz to write for NextBillion and the Acumen Fund blog (here and here) before I had the chance!

Once you don’t have it – that’s when you realize the value

David Kuria, founder and CEO of Ecotact

When I first journeyed to Kenya in 2004, celebrating the launch of a public toilet facility was one of the last ways I imagined spending a Monday morning – or any morning (or afternoon, or evening), for that matter. In fact, unless I had enjoyed an elephant's dose of mango juice and was on a 5 hour safari across the Great Rift Valley, I might not have had reason to celebrate a toilet at all.

Six years later, however, armed with the realization that an estimated 2.6 billion people lack access to basic sanitation and 2.2 million die each year from water and sanitation related diseases, I now have billions of reasons to attend toilet parties, an emerging trend in the Nairobi slums thanks to David Kuria and Ecotact. So when the Acumen team received the invite to attend the launch of Ecotact's 17th Ikotoilet facility last Monday, I practically ran for my dancing shoes.

Sitting under a small tent adjacent to the about-to-be-launched Kawangware Ikotoilet, Rob Katz and I listened eagerly with the 200-plus gatherers inside and spilling out the edges of the makeshift party hall. The crowd – a mix of residents, officials and journalists – engulfed the architecturally distinct Ikotoilet structure. It was clear that Acumen wouldn't be dancing alone at this party.

The Minister of Public Health and Sanitation and the Chief Public Health Officer also showed up for the celebration. Given the honour of Chief Guests, they both made remarks before cutting the ribbon: this day marks the launch of a noble public-private partnership initiative, as we bring necessary services closer to the people and are no longer dependent on flying toilets.

The Kawangware facility is part of Ecotact's newly implemented slum outreach model; it is now the second Ikotoilet in the informal communities of Kenya. And according to Kuria and the Minister, there will be more Ikotoilets in Kawangware in the near future – extremely exciting news for Acumen as a BoP investor!

Ecotact is experimenting with a school model in the slums as well. After cutting the ribbon at Kawangware – and being mobbed by reporters as she toured the facilities – Minister of Public Health and Sanitation and Kawangware MP Beth Mugo led a delegation to the Dagoretti Secondary School, about 10 minutes away from the new Ikotoilet.

The school’s 150 students currently use pit latrines. But with funding from the Solid House Foundation, Dagoretti will soon inaugurate a free-for-use Ikotoilet on site. What’s more, a biodigester will generate valuable methane gas, pumped from the toilet to the school’s kitchen.

With facilities in Nairobi’s central business district, city parks, slums and schools, Ecotact is tackling the sanitation problem here in Kenya on many fronts. As an investor and partner with Ecotact, Acumen Fund is eager to continue the celebration with Kuria and his team, as they grow from 17 facilities to a target of more than double that within the next year.

One year later: Has Obama failed the African poor?

2010-02-22T20:30:00.001+03:00

The following is another sample post that I wrote for the Global Poverty cause at Change.org.

On a crowded Nairobi street back in August 2009, a panhandler across the matatu-packed highway called out to get my attention: Mr. Obama, jambo! Utilizing my ostensible ethnic makeup and the US President's even more obvious popularity, this entrepreneur made a nearly successful attempt at acquiring a customer who really had no interest in buying anything.

Fast forward 6 months, and I wonder if that same panhandler would still consider using that same tactic.

Last week, the largest news publication in Kenya -- a country that previously declared a national holiday when Obama was elected -- published an article titled Has Obama been good to Africa?, raising into question whether the US President with Kenyan roots has lived up to the expectations of a continent where over 41% of the population lives on less than $1 a day. Expectations from those like my panhandler friend -- who dreams of opening his own kiosk -- or the matatu conductors, who imagine purchasing their own bus or taxi.

When looking back at Obama's first year in office, it's clear that the president has made steps in the right direction towards alleviating poverty. But it's also undeniable that the statistics of poverty are still denominated in the same millions and billions figures.

But while there is still an overwhelmingly daunting amount of work that remains, critics need to remember two things:

I. Sustainable development is very complicated and takes time

Although no one in their right mind would expect poverty to be eliminated overnight, it's equally unfair to believe that an administration could make a noticeable impact in a single year, especially given the history of dead aid and the mandate to revise the model.

As Obama acknowledged in Ghana, the West has often approached Africa as a patron or a source of resources rather than a partner… the true sign of success is not whether we are a source of perpetual aid that helps people scrape by -- it’s whether we are partners in building the capacity for transformational change.

II. Africa’s future is ultimately up to Africans

While we live in a global, interconnected community, where events in Nairobi undoubtedly affect circumstances in New York, it is also clear that countries in Africa need to take ownership of their own future, and not depend on handouts from outside countries to catalyze change.

Or in the words of Obama, things can only be done if all of you [Ghanaians and Africans] take responsibility for your future… Opportunity won’t come from any other place. It must come from the decisions that all of you make, the things that you do, the hope that you hold in your heart.

So, while I re-ascertain that it is premature and unreasonable to assess the success of the Obama administration's economic development efforts in Africa, I also realize that the next time I'm called Obama might actually be by the matatu driver, as he swerves to avoid me crossing the street. At least for the time being.

Community Transformers United (part 2)

2010-02-10T10:29:00.002+03:00

As the setting Nairobi sun added an extra orange tent to the thousands of already rusty brown roofs in the Mathare Valley, hundreds of fans stretched the thin tin walls of football halls throughout Africa's second largest slum. Sporting blue and red colored shirts and jerseys, each one paid 30-40 shillings (~50 cents) to watch a 21 inch screen broadcasting one of the most anticipated matches of the season: Arsenal versus Chelsea.

Walking with CT United members for the entire 90 minutes of the match, from one football hall to another, I realized that this is how a community often without TVs and almost entirely without cable participates in Kenya's favourite pastime time. Every single one of the seven 20' by 30' halls we visited was overflowing with grown men, squeezing together on the shaking wooden benches in order to get a glimpse of Drogba squeezing a volley into the top right corner of the net within the first 8 minutes of the match (video here) or Arshavin's near equalizer that was denied by Cech's outstretched left foot.

While cheers from Chelsea's side and gasps from the Arsenal fans only made the place a few degrees more stifling, the hall managers were sweating nervously, praying to avoid the blackout that had already left the other side of town without power.

Sometime after Drogba's left foot nailed the coffin shut with another blast passed Arsenal's infuriated keeper, we were on our way to a café to discuss how we could create a business out of this movement. Over the past few months, the team has been exploring income generating activities in order to become

more sustainable as a CBO and simultaneously unite the community and help provide employment opportunities for our young squad. And visiting the halls confirmed what the players have been saying: a state of the art football/movie hall in a less saturated part of the slum (where we could charge slightly more and wouldn't steal customers from the other halls) could be the perfect solution.

As the players discussed over Fantas and Coca Colas, this hall would certainly be a football fan's dream, with a 10' by 10' projector, surround sound, padded chairs, high powered fans, generators for blackouts, a refrigerator with snacks, a VIP row for advanced ticket holders, a second screen to show concurrent matches, and first class customer service.

Extravagant? Perhaps. But why shouldn't Mathare have the same luxuries one would find on the opposite side of town, but at an affordable rate? As Acumen's CEO often states, poverty is about choices, and if you find a way to provide the poor with more choices, you are exploring opportunities to establish dignity and creating a stepping stone towards alleviating poverty.

The power of (clean) water: Add 15 years to your life

2010-02-03T14:17:00.001+03:00

The following is a sample post that I wrote for the Global Poverty cause at Change.org, which will hopefully be launched soon!

How many times would you have to walk back and forth to the sink in order to spend 25% of your life collecting water? How many hours of sleep would you lose, classes would you miss, careers would you forego and dreams would you sacrifice, if you cut off 25% of your life (or even 6 hours of your day tomorrow)?

Now imagine that your water source isn't actually a sink, but a remote collection point that you had to trek 5 miles to, along treacherous paths (not roads), in all types of weather conditions, only to wait in queues for hours upon arrival, and then have to haul up to 45 pounds of water on your head back home.

As difficult as it is to even comprehend such a situation, this is the reality that women confront daily in Africa, a continent overwhelmed with dismal stats. Stats such as 340 million people (almost 40% of the population) without access to clean water, or 580 million without access to improved sanitation facilities, or 707,000 deaths from diarrhea in one year alone.

And although access to safe water is often considered an after thought to issues such as employment, literacy, crop productivity, access to finance and entrepreneurship, a look at the figures above quickly proves that all of the aforementioned interventions are diminished (if not eliminated) when women spend 25% of their lives collecting water.

With this as a backdrop, I walked in to the eloquent, security-guarded doors of the Panafric Hotel in Nairobi, and listened intently as four organizations presented innovations for delivering water more effectively to the base of the pyramid. As part of the Ripple Effect project (which, full disclosure, my employer sponsors), these organizations are exploring new models to fix an age old problem; models such as a franchising kiosk distribution points in informal settlements, or redesigned / easier to carry 10 litter jerrycans, or remodeled water carts or water storage facilities. And it's working already. Over the past week, each project has begun pilot testing and has already sold to thousands of customers.

While there is still a behemoth amount of progress mandated in order to begin chipping away at the 1.1 billion worldwide who are without clean water, progress starts with a step. And Saturday was a celebration of just that: a step in regaining the lives of women worldwide who are denied the opportunities and joys of everyday life.

Proactive patience: Battlefield or laboratory

2010-01-25T10:58:00.006+03:00

What is needed most of all is moral leadership willing to build solutions from the perspectives of poor people themselves rather than imposing grand theories and plans upon them.
-Jacqueline Novogratz

Over the past 6 months of working with the amazing women of WEEP, I've been fighting a war of paradox, with proactiveness attacking patience, initiative attacking listening, and perseverance attacking empowerment. Each woman face daunting challenges as they prepare to exit the program and start their own business ventures (read more about it here); and as we (the WEEP staff and I) attempt to prepare them for that exit (i.e., by developing their business acumen and experience), I've fought the strong desire to suggest or implement solutions that I strongly believe will work, constantly reminding myself of ideas such as the above from Jacqueline (our CEO at Acumen Fund).

And the war raged on Friday while sitting with WEEP's site coordinator, surrounded by the cold grey cement walls of our Kibera shack. Walls that quietly displayed items the women sell at the market, while separating us from the same women who were loudly producing those items on the other side. And as I restlessly shifted in my squeaky wooden chair, listening to reasons generously given for why each possible intervention wouldn't work -- without suggestions for other possibilities -- I began to question if patience was really the side that should win the battle.

Then later that afternoon, as the WEEP crew and I sat with 80 other 'friends of Acumen' listening to Jacqueline talk about her book and discuss her experiences at a bakery in Rwanda, I remembered how much she had to push the women outside of their comfort zone -- in a project startlingly similar to our effort at the Maasai market -- in order to increase their sales channels.

While remembering this story, I wondered if perhaps I'm approaching this dilemma the wrong way. Perhaps it's less of a battlefield, and more of a science lab, where both patience and proactiveness have the ability to mix together to create something new and brilliant. But if so, where does this harmonious equilibrium exist? What's the balance between the two? When is the right time to push an idea forward? When is the right time to listen and wait? And is there some equation where we can create the formula the easy way, or is it really just a matter of experimenting / trial and error?

My experience so far is that it's definitely the latter, but I suppose time will tell… Then again, time requires patience!

**sigh**

The darkness of Haiti and the stars of (Kenya and) tomorrow

2010-01-17T21:25:00.007+03:00

Only when it is dark enough can you see the stars.

-Dr. King

Every morning this past week, I came in to the office and opened my NY Times homepage to millions of words of destruction, death, despair, desolation, and hell materialized in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Unable to overcome my own depression as I began to read these articles, I regretfully opted to scroll through the daily images instead, and was confronted by pictures of lifeless men who had just found their 10 month old daughters in mounds of the deceased and breathless women whose entire families had just been crushed in their collapsed house.

A few hours after this unbearably overwhelming yet inescapable routine yesterday, I was watching a presentation by the CEO of Acumen Fund as she discussed the hope for the future for developing countries. While describing the impact that Acumen's investments have catalyzed and the overall change she's seen in these countries, she shared the following quote from a journalist named William White:

I'm not afraid of tomorrow, for I have seen the past and I love today.

Almost immediately, I was struck by how true this quote was for my experiences in Kenya. That despite the past, and all the atrocities and injustices and unfathomable evil that has occurred, there is hope today and promise for tomorrow. Then I remembered the picture of a screaming woman whose mother was buried under a pile of rebel in Port-au-Prince, and questioned how a quote like that could ever be applicable to someone who no longer even desires to live.

As I was reflecting this afternoon on these thoughts and tomorrow's MLK day, I thought about one of my favorite quotes (above) from Dr. King (which I've shared before), and how it ironically applies even to the seemingly hopeless situation that Haiti faces today. I wondered if perhaps the very reason why we can celebrate another mouth feed in Kenya, another job created, another life spared from malaria, is because outside of that ray of light, there is death and darkness all around.

While that is an unsettling reality in itself, it sadly seems like reality nonetheless. We live in a very imperfect world -- not at all existing as I believe it was intended to be -- and as a result, we are surrounded by death. As Dr. King said though, only when it is dark enough can you see the stars. Although I question how much even a profound statement such as this can have in a situation such as Haiti's today, it's my prayer that -- just as the stars have begun to emerge in Kenya -- Haiti will soon be able to see a similar light, and that somehow/someway that daughter-less father and that family-less sister and that mother-less daughter will one day be able to say these deaths are of the past, and we are not afraid of tomorrow.

Beauty overshadowed: the tragedy of Togo, and Africa

2010-01-11T00:11:00.009+03:00

In anticipation of arguably the world's most popular sporting event, hundreds of publications are proclaiming that 2010 is the year for Africa. A year in which a predicted cumulative audience of some 30 billion people will learn to see South Africa, and by extension Africa, as a land of inviting arms, comforting smiles, incontestable talent/knowledge, undying perseverance, unparalleled economic opportunity, and much more.

As the Economist says, South Africa will prove sceptics wrong. It will do Africa proud.

Tragically, Africa was anything but proud this past weekend, as terrorists' AK47 bullets pierced through the Togo national team's bus for over 15 minutes as the team travelled to Angola for the Africa Cup of Nations. 8 were injured. 3 were killed. Billions were left speechlessly in disbelief.

Being amongst the latter group, I won't write much, as I seem to be failing miserably at processing the unbelievability of the whole thing, let alone even collecting the facts. And words found in the papers certainly haven't helped much, with publications such as the NY Times surrendering hopeless realities such as: Sports are apart of life, and now death.

I will say this though, as a journaler and a big fan of everything beautiful: it's shockingly unsettling how simple it is to tarnish treasures, how quickly news of ugliness overshadows centuries of sacredness, and how -- despite all of the unspeakable beauty that Africa creates, and all the progress that it's made -- a tragedy (and it is a tragedy) such as this has the innate ability to destroy all of that beauty and progress, while resurrecting the stereotypes that too often enslave the continent.

Dubai: A wealth of misplaced fortune

2009-12-30T06:40:00.022+03:00

Re-entering the developed world has always been difficult for me. Overwhelmed and often convicted by the ostentatious and pretentious use of wealth and natural resources, I struggle (and fail miserably) to imagine how a country can justify, say, wasting 150 trillion kilocalories of food a year while 1/4 of the population in other countries face starvation. Or justify consuming 20,680,000 barrels of gasoline a day, while others are rationing power 3 days a week because of fuel shortages. Or spending an average of $64-$110 per capita daily on expenses while half the world's population lives on less than $2 a day.

As I prepared to battle these realities on my flight from Nairobi to San Francisco, I was confronted with a whole new enemy during my two 12 hour layovers in Dubai. As I explored the emirate, I couldn't help but tremble at the magnitude of the world's new tallest building, or the world's first indoor ski resort, or the world's second tallest hotel that also changes colors and is shaped like a sail boat. And as I thought about the World islands -- a collection of 300 man-made islands constructed to resemble today's world (video here) -- I couldn’t help but realize how divided today's world really is.

And unfortunately, as I've said before, the solution to eliminating this gap isn't easy. There are, however, some obvious interventions that would help to narrow it, one of which became painfully clear while I was exploring Dubai: Make smarter investments.

As simple as this sounds, the story of Dubai has proven that simple is far from common. As the government recently came to grips with the desert of debt it's in, the wisdom behind the investments this debt supports has been seriously questioned. Take the World islands, for example. Here is a project that cost an estimated $14b to make, in which the Guardian newspaper reported that the project is unlikely ever to be completed and the islands are slowly slipping back beneath the waves.

Now take that wasted $14b, and imagine what would happen if it was responsibly invested in businesses that are sustainably and profitably meeting the needs of marginalized customers in base of the pyramid communities. Imagine if it was invested in a vehicle such as Acumen's capital markets fund (mentioned here), which is built upon a history of profitable double bottom line investments through patient capital. Imagine the impact. Instead of 300 mounds of disappearing sand, millions of lives would be transformed, struggling economies would be revived, investors would receive financial returns, and the world would grow closer to resembling the harmonious place that the World islands is supposed to emulate.

New news (Part 3)

2009-12-14T11:04:00.007+03:00

Several months ago, I embarked on a quest to share the 'new news' coming out of the continent, specifically focusing on entrepreneurs who are birthing sustainable value through the ventures they are creating. Since then, I've grossly failed at sharing a number of these stories, partly because of confidentiality reasons from work, but mostly because I've struggled with finding time to conduct the homework needed to adequately represent these ventures.

The past two weekends, however, have more than made up for this lost ground, as I've had the opportunity to sit with almost 20 early stage entrepreneurs, each one with brilliant business ideas and emerging ventures. Entrepreneurs that will create an academy that teaches students how to produce household furnishings, or an all natural grocery store that procures from small scale farmers, or a computer accessories manufacturer that distributes through supermarkets, or a customized email template designer that also places advertisements, or a back office outsource solution that oversees clients' administrative tasks, or an animal feed processor that sells to the same farmers it buys the raw materials from, or a biomass stove manufacturer that uses sugarcane waste as fuel.

As the on-the-ground lead for a new nonprofit organization called Sinapis Group, I had the opportunity to be inspired by each of these entrepreneurs as I interviewed them for Sinapis's pilot fellowship, a 7 month program that will provide each entrepreneurial fellow with comprehensive business training, one-on-one mentorship and capital, with the ultimate goal of job creation and economic development.

When considering the business landscape entrepreneurs face in Kenya, it is painfully clear why an intervention such as Sinapis is mandated. Small to medium-sized enterprises have been largely overlooked by both the microfinance institutions that fund smaller ventures and the commercial banks that capitalize much larger establishments, creating a "missing middle" dilemma for SMEs. To complicate matters, many of the emerging SME interventions are only focusing on existing SMEs, not start ups.

And aside from capital, there are a number of other barriers, well articulated on Sinapis's website: the underdeveloped business knowledge/skill of many entrepreneurs, lack of SME sector support services (e.g., small business associations), prohibitive business regulations and bureaucracy, access to good industry and market information, and underdeveloped infrastructure.

For these reasons, Sinapis (meaning mustard seed) has realized the need to help fill in the gap. And based on the entrepreneurs' enthusiasm during the interviews, the organization seems to be heading in the right direction. As one entrepreneur said, even if I have the best idea and the most passion and perseverance in the world, I'll still need access to resources and a supportive environment to have any hope that the venture will succeed.