You tell them they're in poverty

Its Monday morning and its very very hot. Usually there's a refreshing sea breeze here in paradise which helps to take the edge off the sun but now even in the shade its hot. It doesn't help that everything here is built from clay bricks and corrugated iron roof, much like an oven in design, which makes the temperature inside almost unbearable. But despite that, its been an eventful week.

It has also been a week which was thankfully not spent travelling to, spending a night in, and travelling back from, Malawi. Last Monday we went to Nampula for the purpose of buying a ticket for the train and working our way there but instead we managed to extend our visas in-country and could manage to return here the same day. Because me and Celisse were joined on the journey by the two volunteers and one of the staff from Sunset (for their safety on the way back, should me and Celisse have to go to Malawi) we hired a small minibus for the journey rather than take the 3am public bus. It was relative luxury travelling without the company of goats, chickens and screaming babies but of course we paid considerably more for this luxury.

When we got to the city we headed straight for Migraçao, a small office filled with mostly asian people who, like us, were extending their stay in Mozambique for predominantly economic reasons. Despite the fact that all that is required to extend the visa is a stamp and a signature, the process takes a week and so our passports were left there. We headed for a coffee and a mid-morning pint (we're on holiday) and waited for the volunteers to finish their shopping. In the afternoon I printed out the surveys which I'm using for the feasibility study and briefly contemplated buying a motorbike to take back with us, before deciding against it until our employment and financial situations are sorted out a wee bit.

Motorbikes are a status symbol in Mossuril and garner a level of respect which a big Jaguar might in the West. Cars are few and far between here with only the heads of local government and police and a few big business and NGOs owning one. Their rarity may also explain the tendency for small children to sprint after them whenever they pass through a small village. Anyway, I'll speak more about that later.

On Wednesday we got the early boat to Ilha for some good food and to show the volunteers around, but more importantly to open me a bank account and check the mail for the packages me and Celisse have been sent by our respective mothers. The food was, as always, good and despite not being able to open an account (passport in Nampula) and not getting my package (only 3 weeks after my birthday) we left there full and happy. The minute I got back to Sunset I got phoned by Muaco, the primary teacher we've helped out over the last few months and my contact for the football. I've only played once since our disappointing loss last time and that was more an informal kickabout with some school pupils. He was asking me to come along to a grudge match.

Wednesday was Mozambican Teachers' Day, the climax at the end of Teachers' Week. It was marked by an annual game of football. At stake was a year's worth of bragging rights and the ability to decide the ultimate champion between the two titanic sides of: Primary School Teachers Vs Secondary School Teachers. After I got my shorts on and slapped on the Factor 50 I turned up 2 minutes after kick-off with the score still goalless. The pitch hadn't changed much since the last time I played, vast swathes of it were soft sand which was impossible to run or pass in and long-balls dominated play. A young, very enthusiastic boy ran off to get me my Primary School strip, a replica Barcelona shirt and shorts that I can only assume was donated because of the club's affiliation with UNICEF. At least they can be sure their shirts are going to good use! The first minute I was on I got a boot in the shin for my troubles. I don't know whether the ferocity in it was by accident, because I'm white or because I was playing for the Primary Teachers. Either way it hurt. The game was brutal and by half time we had ground out a 1-0 lead which was far from safe. All I could think about at half time was water, there was none to be seen. The same boy bounded up with a small thermos tank which he began to offer around. Inside were small home-made ice-lollies. They are made from stewing fruit in water and sugar, mashing it until its liquid and freezing it in individual plastic bags. I ripped open a plastic bag and joined my team mates in sucking the cold, fruity liquid. There was a distinct taste of fish which accompanied the sweet fruit and it was unclear whether this was intentional or not. I doubt 'fishy fruit' ice-creams would catch on back home.

The second half was ushered in with the crowd of over 200 hundred primary and secondary school pupils, old gin-drinking men and local policemen joining in songs for their respective side. Our central-midfielder Castro (interesting throwback to Mozambique's socialist history) put us two ahead with a long-range shot which beat the elderly Secondary goalkeeper and with 10 minutes left the game seemed to be beyond doubt. A highly disputed goal from their captain (a large man whom I had meet before my first game for Os Professores to ask his permission to play) led to a frantic and even more physical climax which, despite a multitude of big tackles and impressive bruises, we managed to edge out 2-1. After shaking hands and having a pitch invasion sing to us (they don't do that in Scotland) I limped back for a shower and some First Aid. The ice-lolly turned out to be a bad idea as I discovered they don't boil the well water before using it. No bother for the locals here but not friendly to Western stomachs.

But enough about bowels. On Saturday we were asked to take photos and film at the graduation ceremony of local teachers. Due to us both having graduated this year we agreed to be the official press pack there, despite it requiring us to sit in a hot room from 8am on a Saturday morning. It became very clear though that this was a very different type of graduation ceremony. The teachers has already been teaching for a year, I suppose the equivalent of a probation year in the UK. The oldest and youngest graduates were presented first, being 55 and 31 respectively. With the life expectancy in Mozambique being considerably below 50, for a 55 year old to put in the effort to train as a teacher was very impressive. But more on him later. We stood and listened to what seemed like dozens of verses of the national anthem (“Mozambique is our glorious country...”) and a variety of teachers' songs, as well as every graduand being presented with a rose and a scroll by a different member of the large VIP contingent there, it was time for photos. We patiently took group photos outside the administration building and waited for lunctime.

Lunch was served in one of the classrooms, on small, uncomfortable sloping desks. It consisted of cold chicken, chips and rice, all overcooked and a bit rubbery, but on the whole good. With it everyone was given a bottle of beer, soft-drink and water. It was nice to see almost all of the assembled company taking home doggy-bags for their family at home. Before lunch could be started though, the officials took their seats and the champagne needed to be opened. One bottle of champagne was provided for the 37 graduands, 15-20 VIPs and others. The oldest and youngest were again presented to open and distribute. The mild-mannered old man looked a bit sheepish. He had no idea how to open a bottle of champagne and, although hugely honoured to be asked to perform this most important of celebratory tasks, was unable to complete it. Lisa told me to go up and help but I felt bad sauntering up and stealing the limelight if he was able to work it out for himself. Lisa asked the Master of Ceremonies if it was ok if I helped and he made an official announcement that I was there “to assist in the opening of the champagne”. I was quite proud of my official role in proceedings and after it was opened, a splash of champagne was offered to every one of the assembled company for the toast.

After the meal there was a short interlude which seemed to be set aside for the telling of jokes with 3 or 4 different people getting up, apologising to the VIPs in advance, and telling what I understood to be generally dirty jokes. After this the VIPs left (I think it was scheduled and not because of the jokes) and we stood taking photos for a while longer. The district head of culture (a teaching role but still an impressive title) asked if me and Celisse could come along to speak about American culture with him and for him to teach us the differences between Portuguese, Mozambican and Makua culture and their influences on Mossuril today. He asked us to go in this morning but was a no-show and rescheduled for Wednesday. After all the football and local beer I'm looking forward to a bit of a cultural education.

Yesterday was another day of highs and lows. Due to our current lack of mobility and my longing for my scooter at home, I borrowed the motorbike from Mugiva, one of the guys here at Sunset to drive to the beach with Celisse. I had gone for a practice on Friday afternoon to get my head round the gears (not present on my 49cc beauty at home) and the soft-sand driving which has scared the balls off me when I've been on the back of bikes here. His bike is one of the most common types in Nampula Province, an old Chinese 125cc road bike that looks like its right out of the mid-80s. We went to the house of Mugiva's “other wife”, he has two. The area he lives is remote, secluded and difficult to get to. There are about 10 houses which are all home to different members of his family, all busily prising open cockels and skinning root vegetables in mud-huts. Mugiva is the chief of this village. The silence, the gentle lapping of the sea in the mangroves and the remoteness of the place, despite its proximity to Mossuril and Ilha (only a half hour row across the bay) made me quite like the place. Mugiva owns all the land here and wants to start up some business here to add to the booming trade around the rest of Mossuril Bay. Given the money I would do it like a shot.

Anyway, back to yesterday. Between me and Mugiva we had convinced Celisse of my ability to safely get her from A to B and, with the threat that if I kill Celisse, her Mum will kill me, fresh in my mind, we headed out. I don't like breaking promises to my mother but driving down an open road at 80km/h with nothing protecting my head apart from a sleek pair of sunglasses was something that she expressly asked me not to do. And I don't regret it for a second. We drove from Mossuril to Chocas Mar along the solid dirt road without too many issues. When we hit the soft sand between Chocas, a small beach-resort town in its own right, and Carrusca, a beautiful beach with hotel and restaurant facilities, problems began. The combination of the soft sand, the old motorbike and my relative inability to drive it properly meant that within 100 yards of hitting the sand we had fallen off 3 times, the gear pedal had completely detatched and the handlebars were starting to dislocate from the rest of the bike. Bad times. As we were starting to push the bike back to Chocas to get it fixed we met the owners of Bel-Moz who we had spoken to only a few days before. We locked the bike, had it pushed to the garage and jumped in the back of their car to get, safely, to the beach.

They were heading to Coral Lodge, a luxury 5-star hotel and restaurant set on the banks of a natural lagoon on a peninsula almost completely surrounded by light-blue sea and white sand. There is a swimming pool, diving trips to see dolphins and sharks and snorkelling around the coral reef. It is an unbelievably beautiful place. The Dutch couple who own it showed us round one of the rooms and the hotel grounds. For around $500 per night full board you get all meals, house drinks and a diving trip thrown in, a private villa with beach access and a small patio and, wait for it, an air-conditioning unit built into the canopy of your four-poster bed. All we wanted was a bacon sandwich.

Northern Mozambique is predominantly Muslim and so pork is hard to come by. The head chef at Coral Lodge, Carlos, is Mozambican but has worked around the world and is a 5-star rated chef. I felt bad just asking him for a bacon roll but he pulled out all the stops. Our olive-oil-soaked sour-dough bread sandwich was packed with 3 or 4 layers of prime bacon, with the LT of the BLT placed outside the sandwich so as we could add it ourselves. The small pots of ketchup and mayonnaise for the oven-baked chips were a nice touch and the salad dressing was incredible. We were immediately offered desert which was a home-made mango ice-cream with some kind of sponge cake which seemed to be crunchy on the outside and incredibly light on the inside. This was food. We were given cold, boiled water and I had a beer. We were charged 'mates rates' for the meal which came to around £10 after the discount, for 2 bottles of water, a coke, a beer, 2 of the best bacon sandwiches I have ever eaten and 2 desserts. We had almost forgotten the motorbike-related stress of the morning.

The staff at Coral Lodge are all local people, mostly living in Cabaceira Pequena, a village which is an island for half of the day, when the tide is high and is one of the least 'developed' places in the district. If the tide is high they swim to work, if its low they power-walk for an hour and a half to work incredibly hard learning english, restaurant techniques and all of thee other functions of a luxury lodge. These are very smart people, trained very well to deliver excellent service. I hope to be returning to Coral Lodge very soon for more of the same!

This blog is very long. Thats partly because we did a lot this week, partly because I'm feeling a bit wordy and partly because, due to our work on Saturday morning, we've been given Monday off. But bear with me, I'm having an epiphany.

Throughout my two years in Swaziland I didn't really see dire poverty. Thats partly because I was living in the most expensive private school in the country in amongst some of the wealthiest students in Southern Africa but partly also because I was not entirely aware of what dire poverty looked like. Mbabane was a clean, relatively expensive capital city with shopping malls and western shops. Poverty in Swaziland was confined mostly to rural areas and we didn't go to them very often.

Now I'm here I often think that I am not seeing poverty because of how well Mozambique is doing in terms of development. But its not that, Mossuril is still one of the poorest parts of one of the poorest countries in the world. This is the home of the opposition party and so its politically in the ruling party's interest to not invest into this area. The only solution left is that I am seeing poverty every day, all around me. People live in mud-huts with no electricity and no running water and are lucky if they live past 50, but they're just so happy. Karl Marx said that the presence of leisure is the sure sign of freedom, or something like that. Someone else said that civil society is the most important way to develop a middle class, which is the most important group for the development of a country. Throughout this week I have witnessed civil society in full swing here: organised football clubs, music groups, graduation ceremonies, local people meeting at bars to eat and drink with their surplus income, and everyone happy and laughing. You come to some of the poorest, most deprived areas of Africa and I bet you will find an overweight, middle-aged woman missing most of her teeth laughing hysterically at a dirty joke her pal just told her. You can come out with all the dollar-a-day poverty indicators and studies you want, people here are happy and they're getting on with their lives, eating and drinking.

And I'm not saying that there is not poverty in the world. Where there are famines, droughts, no food at all and a reliance on aid, that may be famine. If people are struggling to eat or stay alive that is poverty in my view. But, if you see someone today, and then you see him again next week, he has eaten and drank and makes plans and has dreams the same as everyone else. You try telling them they're in poverty. They'll laugh in your face.

Oh, and just a final piece of animal news: The dog is thin and losing hair at a rate of knots. The cat gave birth to 3 kittens on Saturday night and is intermittently beating the living crap out of the dog.

Administration and Consultation

My time here so far has been marked by an almost endless stream of highs and lows, often occuring within the same day to the extent that by the time I go to bed I don't know whether the day has been productive or not. This week has seen that level of contrast increase dramatically.

I'm currently sitting on the veranda of Sunset writing this in peace and quiet. Celisse, the volunteers and Lisa have gone to the beach for a swim and some food and I'm making the most of the time on my own to get back onto studying some portuguese and writing this blog. Its amazing what a cold beer and some peace and quiet can do for getting your head straight.

There is also a powercut at the minute so the discos which blast music and movies on an almost constant loop are, for the moment, quiet. There is a good breeze and a blue sky and life looks pretty rosy. The dog is still alive and after getting a taste for life outside his small half-built house has started competing with me on his ability to escape and my ability to prevent him. Currently I'm winning (he's still there) but who knows what tomorrow will bring. This week also brought in the first proper rain since I got here. Monsoon style rain pelted down for a few hours, filling every bucket we could lay our hands on to save money on having to buy some  from the well. Fun at first but when theres leaks throughout the straw roof, no power and no ability to go outside, as well as a very wet dog, the novelty wore off pretty quickly.

Anyway, onto serious things. I started my feasibility study in earnest this week. The study will consider financial, legal and social requirements of setting up a formal banking structure in Mossuril and will hopefully be researched, written and put in a shiny folder before Christmas. I have employed an assistant (yes, I have an assistant) to conduct surveys of local people and help me to speak to bank managers, government officials and other bigwigs to see if its all possible. He is called Sale (Sally) and is an English teacher at the local secondary school. He is originally from Nampula City and has dabbled in various business activities before settling on a career in the public service (predominantly for the benefits for him and his family which such a career carries with it). I'm paying him out of my own pocket for now as I don't really know who to ask to fund a small feasibility study but hopefully the investment will pay off when the study is written and we get to the stage of setting up the bank.

The survey will interview local people across Mossuril District to assess demand for banking facilities as well as ascertaining how much people need the relative functions of the bank (savings, loans, insurance, etc) and will hopefully conclude that it is possible to create, though I am realistic enough to know that if the numbers don't add up on a feasibility study then they certainly won't add up in practice.

The legal side of the study will be predominantly done through speaking to contacts of Sale and a few other friends of mine here who work in the Administration, the highest government level in the district. I need to write some letters, meet some people, guarantee my trustworthiness and request an awful lot of permission before I even think about the financial implications. Its a big project and much of it scares me due to the language, money and seniority of the people involved but its very exciting. Sale is savvy in business and is realistic in how much he is asking me to pay him. At some point I'm going to need to get paid too but for now I'm just going with the flow. After Christmas can be a time for applying for funding.

A lot of people both here and in the West claim that micirofinance is not viable in Africa due to a variety of reasons. The form of charity which has dominated this continent for decades is aid, the giving of things and the reliance on those things. This has stunted the ability and need for people to create their own businesses or attempt to become self-sufficient as 1) If someone is giving you lunch, why do you need to buy lunch and 2) why set up a shop selling clothes if you don't know whether the following week a truck will come from Manchester giving away loads of free clothes and making you bankrupt. On a side note, when you donate clothes to a truck going to a developing country, the most common thing that charities do with them is sell them to intermediaries so as not to harm local business and to make some money on the side, though not necessarily donating them as they say in the brochure. Saying that, don't stop giving clothes to charity!

Although I recognise the value in this thinking and the fact that it was our methods which created this situation, I don't want to write off the chances of rural microfinance in Southern Africa even before I've started. This study will hopefully be able to give a better impression of whether Africa can compete with the massively successful provision of microfinance in Asia (a continent with more of a history of capitalist practice but which has still suffered due to the way aid has been distributed) and define what my next step will be in the process. If nothing else, its exciting, interesting and will stand me in good stead for the next opportunity which comes along.

This next week is pretty uncertain just now. We're going to Nampula tomorrow to update visas but aren't yet sure whether its possible to do it in-country or if we have to cross the border into Malawi to be able to get new ones. The train east towards the border leaves early on Tuesday morning but if it is possible to sort it in Nampula it would just save a lot of time, money and hassle. Also it  would mean we would get to Cuamba, the middle of nowehere, on Tuesday evening just at the time of Scotland's vital game against Spain on Tuesday night, not the best situation to be in. Whatever time we come back we'd be looking to come back with a motorbike. Its a good investment to make here and the ability to leave for a pint or a swim at any point is always nice. Things are starting to move here and Africa is a nice place to be when things are moving.

Similarities and Differences

The difficulty with trying to set up new businesses in a community and society which has no history of capitalist culture is one of assimilation. Its not that there is no business in rural African villages, its that it takes on a very different form to that which we are used to in the West. Everything is different and when trying to develop and facilitate both small self-employed business and employment-creating projects it is vital that local custom is taken into account for both employer and employees to be happy.

For example, there is no concept of the '9-5' job, the idea that you work really hard for 8 hours (minus an hour lunch break) and then have leisure time from then on. It is wrong to assume that people here are lazy, although from a western eye they do look it. People don't rush with business, they go slowly and take a lot of breaks, in service industries they don't always appear entirely pleased to see you. In my opinion this is because work and leisure aren't so cleanly separated like they are in the west. People will work a bit, then talk a bit, then sleep a bit, then work a bit, then eat a bit, etc, etc. People will do the duties of work for longer hours here but just less intensely. This allows people to eat, provide for their family and maybe gradually build up to buying a bicycle or motorbike and perhaps expanding their business but many are happy for that process to take longer if it means that they can have a relatively relaxed time about it along the way. It makes sense, why rush to get somewhere if you know you will get there eventually and have more fun along the way if you take your time.

The problem comes when they are in the position where 1) they have to do more than just provide for themselves e.g. repay a loan, or 2) when they are paid an hourly rate to do a job. The latter requires employees to adopt the western approach to intensive work and does not allow for the combination with leisure and relaxation that is so much a part of work here. It appears then that both loans and hourly pay are not the most certain, profitable or efficient ways of maximising productivity and profitability. To try to put a positive emphasis on this negative view of business prospects in such places, there does seem to be a solution. Results-based pay (e.g. paying a per-kilogram rate for fruit or a per product rate for home-made crafts) allows local people to work at their own pace, employers to get exactly what they pay for and anyone is able to join the market providing they have the skills and the buyer can handle the supply of the product. Businesses which attempt to fundamentally alter the way that people do business are more risky to a small place. If done well they have the potential to succeed in reinvigorating the economy of an area and attracting more and more new business, if done poorly they have the possibility of doing exactly what was done by the old colonialists- bringing all the worst parts of capitalism (greed, exploitation and jealousy) to a culture and instilling that as the way forward.

Anyway, back to reality. The big news of the week is that we have two new volunteers here at Sunset. Flore is a 17-year-old dutch girl who is very creative and is the first volunteer for Celisse to coordinate in her role as... volunteer coordinator. Hilde is a middle-aged Belgian woman with 30 years experience in restaurant management and has taken an instant hands-on approach to working with staff and organisation at Sunset. It is refreshing to have them both here to share in the experience and provide new skills and knowledge to staff (and us!) here in Mossuril. Neither of them speak Portuguese so we have to be the intermediaries with the little Portuguese that we do speak but things are still able to move forward. Progress is being made with the cleanliness, work-rate and service quality in the restaurant and once some adjustments are made to the provisions needed for more people to be here (more food to be ordered in, more water to be brought from the well, etc) things will be moving even more smoothly. They plan to stay for 4-5 weeks in which time we hope to make significant changes to how things run here.

As Sunset is a training restaurant students are taken on to learn their trade and concessions are made for service and quality (although it is generally good anyway) on the basis that it is providing a service for local people to learn the ways of the tourism and catering industry. Since the College of Tourism was donated to the community last year, this has become the only functioning restaurant run by Teran Foundation with one being built currently on the other side of the country in Milange, on the Malawian border. Things continue to move along here though with the new rooms for volunteers continuing to take shape in the back courtyard and the acquisition of the mud-hut in front of the restaurant possible when a new house is built for the family who currently live there. But Sunset is really made all the more entertaining by the staff.

There are 2 full time bar-staff, 2 kitchen staff and 3 guards, in addition to the 3 students who are working for their year's course on half-pay. The staff have varying levels of English but are all interested in learning more and are become frustrated when I try to conduct sentences in Portuguese rather than helping them to improve their spoken English. The one I get on best with is one of the barmen, Waes (Why-Ess).

Waes is 27 years old, married with 3 kids and has been working for Lisa since she set up the college 7 years ago. He has the best spoken English out of everyone here and conducts most of the required translation. He also has a wicked sense of humour and cracks jokes concerning everything from sex to racism. He sometimes wishes that he hadn't got married so young and that he had held out for a white wife but reasons that he could simply marry her too and share himself around. He works every day of the week, cycling for an hour each way from his home and his family. He genuinely wants to work hard for Sunset to make it a success and is often the only steering force of the staff, conducting every duty of work if so required. Last week he had a nightmare day which included losing his wallet with all of his wordly money (lack of savings facilities...) then hitting a child when looking for it on his bicycle and being reported to the police by the mother of said child before being fined for both hitting the kid and not carrying identification as it had been lost in said wallet. All I could do was commiserate and lend him some money.

What is interesting about getting to know Waes and many other people here is that they really aren't so different to folk at home. There are easy parallels to draw with characters and personalities I've met in Scotland and Swaziland and people are just trying to live their lives. They have fun, play sport, have meetings and have romances. They go out to parties at night and go to work during the day. The old guys sit in the pub and the young guys go to the disco. Builders and fishermen whistle at women in exactly the same way that I'm sure builders and fishermen whistle at women throughout the world. The fairytale view of the African person so far removed from our world is vastly diminished when you realise that, really the entire social structure is very similar those found in the West.

A quick round up of other news: The dog is still alive and has gone for its first walks and swims in the sea, now the new volunteers are here too it is eating particularly well too. Celisse's birthday was a couple of days ago and was celebrated with 'pizza night' in the clay oven and the traditional music and dancing which has come to represent our Saturday nights. The World Council of Credit Unions seems to be a good place to start looking for funding for start-up banks but, much like most people I have contacted looking for information, funding or just to say hello, they haven't gotten back to me yet. Frustrating.

This week I'm going to continue writing an application to do a 8-week feasibility study on the bank and keep adding to the extensive project proposal I'm going to be writing over the next month or so for a solid amount of funding. I've had a couple of other personal business ideas since I've been here too so I'm looking at developing them as well if there's time. Life is busy down at the farm.