Chris Blattman's Blog: Cheap advice, twice

I really enjoy his blog...if I haven't said before. The reason I linked this post of his is there are a list of blogs I had never heard of that focused on global poverty. (I didn't know the WB blogged!) He also gave a shout out to the Institution, so I have to give him props.

Unfortunately, there aren't too many world poverty research blogs, but the ones that are out there are pretty good: CGD, Dani Rodrik, and the World Bank blogs (1, 2 and 3) come to mind. There are other poverty-related blogs (many of which I link to frequently) but none that commonly highlight new research.

The summer is coming along well, may get a job soon at Brookings with one of the Development centers. Last night's HH went well, though I found out this morning that at least one of the new students couldn't find us. (Do we have a phone list?) I am also considering going out of the country for winter break to get some on the ground experience. I am in the very preliminary stages, but would love some advice.



Chris Blattman's Blog: Cheap advice, twice

Time for a change of TP Scenery

Call me spoiled for even having a toilet, but I for one am looking forward to the simple pleasure of tossing used toilet paper into the bowl instead of having to touch said-used-toilet-paper for greater than my prefered 0.5 seconds, in order to ball it up and throw it into the trash can. God Bless America.

Gratuitous Plug

This past week I had the good fortune of visiting ten primary schools over the course of three days. It was a much needed break from the office, especially for this teacher-turned-development worker. It reminded me that there is life beyond the cubicle if I can just get somebody to pay me to go out and play with kids in Africa. Any takers???

In our classes and in various discussions in DC and in Africa there is a lot of skepticism if not downright cynicism about the work that the US government (through USAID) is doing in poor countries. People always ask the question, Have we really accomplished anything? The skeptics (realists?) always point out that Africa is actually poorer than it was in the 1960’s, measured by the size of the economy. But I’m convinced that that’s a poor way of looking at this thing we call “development”. Just because an economy does good or bad does not mean that I am developing or not. Real “development” takes place on an incremental level in households. When economies grow, that usually only aggrandizes the wealthy. But when education improves or money goes towards health, it benefits everyone. My grandfather was big on education. He used to say that it’s one of the few things they can’t take away from you. And, barring frontal lobotomies, that’s mostly true.

I think that’s why the trips out to these schools were so good for me. We’re spending a lot of (but not nearly enough!) money on primary school education. It’s a long-term commitment that won’t yield returns for maybe 20 years. But there is real progress taking place in primary schools in Malawi. The projects that I visited in rural parts of Malawi have all been going for about 3 or 4 years now and every school I visited was so proud of their progress in that short amount of time. One of the biggest improvements came in the methods teachers use. From my own experience I know how easy and inefficient it is to try to stand up and lecture to students. That’s what we see in college, so that’s what we know. Well, when you’re staring at a classroom of 100 first-graders, that’s not really going to be very effective. So USAID has been training teachers to break the classes up into small groups and encourage more hands-on learning. The results were stunning. After visiting several schools that were not using this technique, it was amazing to see how much progress was being made in the teacher-trained schools. The kids were speaking nearly perfect English by 7th grade and were dictating to me the parts of the ear and fractional math. And with the kids learning more, the parents were taking a renewed interest in their kids’ schools and donating more money for building construction and maintenance and teacher salaries.

Probably the most interesting part of my entire trip to Africa also happened during my tours around Malawi’s schools. There’s a secret society in Chewa culture here in Malawi called the Gula Wamkulu. Induction into the group is so secretive that even your wives and mothers are not supposed to know that you’re in it. When they go out in public they wear ostentatious and brightly colored costumes. The group kind of carries on the traditions and morals of Chewa society. It’s kind of the traditional glue from one generation to the next. Kind of like Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve in America.

I encountered this group because up until a couple of years ago they were actually encouraging kids to stop going to school because they saw no benefit for the kids. They actually chased kids away from school in their scary costumes while wielding clubs. So when USAID went into these rural areas and started improving schools, one part of the program was to show the community the improvements and how they’re helping kids learn. Soon the Gula Wamkulu was on board with the new program and turned about face in their policies. Now there are actually pictures of them chasing kids TOWARDS school. You should see the scared looks on the kids’ faces as they’re being chased by men dressed up as roosters and sheep. In those areas school enrollment almost doubled, along with the attendance rate. Now that’s a truancy officer. On my visit the Gula Wamkulu were hosting a fundraiser for local schools in which they performed their native dances for the villages and received donations. I was the only westerner amongst a crowd of about 500 watching this dance. I can’t hope to describe what I saw, but I did take several videos which I can show you when I’m back.

Ah, but here’s the rub. The US Congress has limited how much money we can spend on education in Malawi. Most of the money from the US government has to go to health because Congressmen like to say they’re giving money for health. So as a result we’ve only been able to implement these projects in 4 of the 26 districts in Malawi. So we’re only barely making a dent in a huge problem in Malawi. So feel free to write your Congressman to get some more money for programs like this in Malawi.

So that’s just a recent perspective I’ve had here in Africa’s warm heart. In the midst of all that I thought that I had contracted malaria, but it turns out I just picked up some other random virus in one of the dozen or so villages I visited among the hundreds of hands I shook in my time out there. Blood and urine tests came back negative, so God only knows what it was. Unfortunately it took 3 painful pricks into my veins to draw enough blood from me. (Note to self: don’t give blood in the middle of Africa)

I’m now under three weeks left in Malawi before I head off again for some more overland travel across Africa, and, I’m sure, more fun African travel stories. Before then my friend Stephanie comes to my little country this weekend to experience the joy of Lake Malawi. I would say time is flying by for me, but in reality it seems like it’s moving at a normal pace. Not too fast; not too slow. Just like Malawi.

Before I sign out, here are some more fun tidbits I picked up about Malawi during my travels. While visiting schools I was surrounded by Malawians all day with no Westerners anywhere to be found, so I got to learn some more about the culture:

-Driving down the ol’ M1 in the Northern Region of Malawi we passed by an official-looking road sign that read “CAMEL” just off the road. My driver informed me that the owner of that house brought the first camel to Malawi just a few years ago so they put a sign up in front of his house. Apparently he uses it to sow his fields and ride into town.

-If the Gula Wamkulu was the most incredible thing I saw in Africa so far, this is number 1b. There’s a boy named William who read a book in a library (donated by USAID) about wind power. William was 14 at the time and had dropped out of school because his very rural parents could not afford the school fees. As William read about windmills he got the crazy idea in his head that he could build one and provide free electricity for his very rural house. So he did just that, in spite of the crazy looks he got from his family and friends. And to everyone’s amazement, it worked! Having never left his rural village and with no knowledge of electricity other than what he read in that book and another one on Chemistry he built a real working wind-powered electrical source. He even invented his own type of outlets and switches. And all of it was made with junk that he found laying around local villages. William’s house today has a tv, dvd, and ipods, all donated by a wealthy American and powered by this amazing boy. He’s now building a second windmill that will power a water pump and allow his family to irrigate an entire field. William is 19 now and has been given a scholarship to a prestigious school for future leaders of Africa in Johannesburg.,

-With so many animals living basically on the roads here in Malawi, I’ve been wondering what happens if you hit one of them. This week I found out the answer – you must negotiate with the owner a fair price for the animal. I got an estimate from some of my guides. If you hit a chicken you pay about $10. If you hit a dog (the local guard service) you pay about $15. And if you hit a goat you pay $25. You can also negotiate whether or not you get to take the animal with you for food.

-One of the local delicacies in Malawi is field mice, which they serve either boiled or fried, and sell on sticks along the sides of the road. Not every Malawian eats them, but the ones that do eat them eat the whole thing, starting with the head and working their way down. The tail is supposed to be the tastiest part of the mouse. It is said a good wife is one that serves a field mouse with the tail attached and a bad wife will cut it off.

Happy Birthday Madiba!

If you are in Africa this summer (and even if you aren't) you probably heard that last Friday, July 18 was Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday. This was a BIG DEAL in South Africa.

The weeks leading up to the birthday bash, which he celebrated at his home in the Eastern Cape Province with about 500 of his best friends and family members, saw TV announcements, radio ads, and newspapers continuously wishing him happy birthday. Songs were written and performed for him. New coins were minted. A comic book of his life is forthcoming. A new book was published called Hunger for Freedom: The Story of Food in the Life of Nelson Mandela about the role food played in different stages of his life, including his imprisonment on Robben Island. On July 17th there was a city-wide party in Pretoria to celebrate. (not that I attended. USAID mission staff tends not to mix with the locals, ho-hum) People in general just seemed excited.

On Friday all of the major newspapers covered the birthday story on the front page and many had special pull-out sections about Mandela's life with wishes from politicians and celebrities from around the world. This is a man that all South Africans genuinely seem to love and be proud of. They really can't get enough of him and affectionately call him Madiba. It was a really interesting time to be in South Africa and I'm glad I was here for it. There are few political figures in the world today, in office or retired, who are as iconic and capturing as Mandela.

Yup, still in Rwanda

This week I have been realizing how incredibly good I have it here. I may not be living American style, but compared to the women I work with, I am living in luxury! I don’t have running water, but I have electricity; my floors are poured concrete instead of dirt or mud-brick, and I eat a small variety of foods instead of just manioc bread. Plus, living with Rwandans, instead of with expats as I did on my other trips to Africa, has been one of the deepest blessings of my time here. Serge and Francine, the young couple I live with, have offered me an unfiltered peek into Rwandan life and, best of all, friendship.

Maybe the second biggest blessing is riding moto-taxis! I’ve never really been all that attracted to the idea of motorcycles and I had never ridden one before getting here, but I have been converted! They are so fun! And not just a little bit sketchy. The average moto ride on a dirt road provides me with 3-5 near death experiences, giving me the opportunity to make peace with my Maker… repeatedly. The drivers carry an extra helmet for their passenger, but since the helmets need to fit big African men, they usually come down over my eyes and don’t seem all that likely to protect me in the event of an accident. Jen accuses me of only liking motos because I get to spoon with the moto driver, but hey, a girl has needs. And this girl’s most important need is to hold on tight so she doesn’t die on the side of the road in rural Rwanda!

In fact, Rwanda is full of small joys once you know how to look for them. Did I mention that last week Rwanda’s one television station was playing Kenny Loggins music videos? Yup, it’s bizarre what nuggets of Western culture find their way over here. In fact, I’ve been working myself to educate Rwandan children in American culture. So far, the kids in Remera-Rukoma have learned “what’s up dog?” and “oh nothing.” Unfortunately they haven’t yet figured out that it’s a question and a response, so more often than getting an American greeting, I hear, “Nuffin! Whasupdog! Muzungu! Nuffin!”

The 4th of July weekend was especially fun. We celebrated American Independence Day and the Rwandan Journée de la Libération (the end of the genocide)with Serge and Francine at Lake Kivu on the border between Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Beer and dancing on the beach always make the world seem rosier. We also got to take a day trip over to Goma in the DRC to see the recent lava flows, stock up on cheap stuff you can buy with American money, play the UN truck version of punch-buggy, and get a bad ass stamp in our passports. Plus, there’s nothing like going to Goma to make wherever you live look pretty good.

So no deep thoughts in this update, I just wanted to give you a taste of the ridiculous oddities and small pleasures that make me happy here. Actually, that has been one of the hardest lessons I’ve been learning: how to be happy when my daily work revolves around murder, rape, and extreme poverty. Sometimes the pain of the people around me gets to be too much and I’m tempted to just crawl inside myself and stop feeling for awhile. After all, as long as I do my work, does it matter what I feel? As it turns out, it does, if only to me. Still, it is important to remember that this world has enough horrible things in it that anyone who is paying attention can be well-informed and miserable. The real trick is to keep my eyes and heart open to the world AND treasure the very real beauty and laughter that exist even here.

Mid-Summer Day Update

Happy hot days of summer!!!

I wanted to draw your attention to a couple more blogs that might be of interest. The first is from my undergraduate friend, Lisa. She was in the theatre program with me and is now spending much of her time at the Malaika Orphanage in Tanzania. The blog's recent posts focus on the new playground built for the kids. Those who are interested in how to use social media in non-profits should read Beth's Blog. I follow her on Twitter and she has some brilliant ideas for both the development and NPO world. The last blog is one I just started reading a couple days ago that focuses on economic development, political change, and conflict in the developing world by an Assistant Professor of Political Science and Economics at Yale, Chris Blattman.

1st years, 2nd years, and recent alumni: keep an eye out for information about a DC happy hour in the near future. I hope to see those who are in town soon.

The few, the proud, the muzungus

As I mentioned in my last blog post, I set off this past weekend with my new friends Emily, Andrew, (the veggie-twins) and Amy (the “I wasn’t born in Texas but I got here as fast as I could” Texan) to test my mettle on a mountain. It was one of those moments when the potential for adventure overcame sound reason and good logic in my mind. There were a lot of things that could have gone wrong with this trip, but, obviously since I’m writing this, I ultimately survived…or did I? (DUH duh duh)

The destination of our journey was a giant granite rock in the south of Malawi called Mt. Mulanje. Although the rock climbs high above the clouds at 3100 meters, it is hard to call it a mountain. In technical terms it is actually a massif, which is French for “giant whale”. Just kidding. I don’t know what it means, but it’s basically a huge rock formation that stretches for miles (200 miles squared to be exact), with a series of plateaus and one sharp peak. The lure of climbing such a giant rock is obvious. What’s less obvious is why anyone would want to race up the mountain. But every year in July an event takes place called The Porter’s Race. Porters are those locals who carry all of your gear on their heads and walk with you up the mountain. They demonstrate incredible feats of strength, not the least of which because they are usually climbing with flip flops or no shoes at all (see below).

So I and a couple of other muzungus thought it would be a great idea to attempt to race alongside these abnormally gifted men and women. As I mentioned, there were several things that could go wrong on this trip. For instance:

-I haven’t run more than 6 miles since my marathon over two years ago. The Porter’s Race is 15 miles up and down a mountain.

-The entire race, in fact the entire country is at high altitude, which isn’t great on the lungs.

-Even in my runs through Lilongwe I haven’t climbed a hill more than 100 feet high.

-And perhaps most dangerous of all, Mt. Mulanje is believed by many Malawians to be inhabited by evil spirits. In fact, the highest point of the mountain, Sapitwa, literally means “Don’t go there” in the native Chichewa. There are stories everywhere you go in Malawi about people disappearing on the mountain. Three years ago a Dutch girl tried to climb Sapitwa on her own and disappeared without a trace. Professional search and rescuers from the Netherlands showed up to try to find her. They brought dogs up the mountain to sniff her out. Traditional healers were sent up along with local church leaders. But nary was a trace found. In mountain climbing circles, this is very rare except on the highest of peaks.

One rumor of the mountain is that it is still inhabited by an ancient civilization called the Abatwa, a small, light-skinned race that supposedly settled this region before the Bantu migration brought the current inhabitants. Their legend, however, has grown such that, according to Wikipedia, it is believed that:

“The Abatwa are tiny humans said to be able to hide beneath a blade of grass and to be able to ride ants. They are said to live a nomadic lifestyle and are continually on the hunt for game.
Legend states that if one happens to come across an Abatwa, one will typically be asked a question like, "From where did you first see me?" One must reply by saying one saw them from a mountain, or some far away area. They are said to be extremely sensitive about their size, and if one answers by saying that one only saw them right then for the first time, the Abatwa will try to kill them with poison arrows. Stepping on an Abatwa by accident is also said to be a death sentence.
Due to their shy nature, they will only tolerate being seen by the very young (said to be anyone under the age of 4), by magicians, and by pregnant women. If a pregnant woman in her seventh month of pregnancy sees a male Abatwa, it is said that she will give birth to a boy.”

So, needless to say, there were lots of things to watch out for during this 15 mile trek across Malawi’s highest point.

Before we left for the trip I was walking out of the USAID building down a flight of stairs in my hiking shoes when I completely lost my footing and slid down an entire flight of stairs, only saving myself with a quick grasp of the railing. Not a good sign when you’re about to race up and down a mountain. Then, as we were approaching the mountain in the dark, completely unaware of our surroundings, the dirt road we were traveling on suddenly disappeared about 5 feet in front of the car. It turns out that they were building a bridge that had not been completed yet, but had failed to put up a safety sign. TIA. There were at least 5 more uncompleted bridges we had to try to avoid on the way up to the forest lodge where we were camping for the night.

So on to race day:

5am – Up early to register for the supposed 6:30am start time. The only people there are 3 porters wearing t-shirts and either flip flops or no shoes at all. We hear that the race probably won’t start until 7:00.

7am – We show up back at the starting line and a large crowd has gathered. We are surrounded by around 100 other runners, most Malawians with about 7 other muzungus. I am floored by the footwear, as well as the women in wraps that are gearing up for the race. When we walked up everyone was frozen stiff by the brisk morning air. Suddenly, they get the PA system to work and they start blaring some rhythmic African music. Instantly the entire crowd (with the exception of the 10 muzungus) begin to move in unison. This is all the warm-up they will need for the race.

7:20 – Race time is fast approaching. All of us muzungus are filling up our water bottles and packing some high-protein, high-carb snacks for the long run. The Malawians are all buying pieces of bubble gum which is all they can afford and all they will eat during the race.

7:30 – The race starts! 100 of us begin our ascent up the mountain. The lead pack of Malawians are on a dead sprint from the start, probably at around 4:00 mile pace over the only flat terrain of the morning. Within ½ mile we reach the climbing portion of the race.

7:45 – I’ve been climbing for 15 minutes and I’m immediately regretting this decision. My pulse is beating at max heart rate (180 beat/minute maybe?). The steep climb is the same inclination as a flight of stairs. How old do you have to be to have a heart attack?

8:00 – still climbing…I’m working my way up with 4 barefoot Malawian teenage girls who are hardly breathing.

8:15 – The barefoot Malawian girls have long surpassed me when we come to the first water station. It consists of two buckets and four cups. One bucket offers water and the other offers orange soda. All the competitors share the 4 cups. This would be the pattern through all of the water stations. Sanitation is the least of my worries at this point as I feel that battery acid is now pulsing through my legs.

8:30 – still climbing…

8:40 – Finally reach the top of the plateau and another water station. I have just scaled 3 rocky miles in just over an hour and I’ve got 12 more miles to go. Little did I know the plateau would continue to be a gradual climb, peaking at over 2200 meters. That’s a mile and a half straight up.

9:30 – The temperature has dropped and I feel mist on my face. I then realize that I am now running through a cloud. Then it dawns on me that I just ran up to a cloud. My legs hurt.

10:00 – Moisture has enveloped me and I feel the beginnings of a blister on my foot.

10:30 – The terrain is beautiful, like something out of a movie. I feel like William Wallace in Braveheart as he runs through the Scottish highlands. Or maybe more like some hunky prince in Lord of the Rings. Except that I’m running over a path of rocks and the cloud I’m running through cuts my vision to about 30 feet in front of me. I made a wrong turn at one point and soon realized that the path (marked by chalk arrows) is about 100 feet below me. As I try to walk down the bushy hill I slip on the wet rocks a couple of times. This would continue for the rest of the “race”. I haven’t seen another person for the last 45 minutes. Where am I?

10:40 – I reach the last water station before the descent. Finally a Malawian runner has joined me and we start the descent together. Each step it feels as though a hammer is driving itself into my thighs and my feet have nothing to land on but hard rock.

11:00 – The Malawian finally passes me as I have to slow down on the steep, slippery down hills to prevent a major catastrophe. I should have sprained my ankle about 20 times on the way down and torn my ACL at least 5 times. I guess today the spirits are on my side.

11:30 – How much longer? I’ve been running for four hours now. At this moment I am the embodiment of the facial expressions my runners used to give me at the end of long workouts I forced on them as a coach. In fact I start to wonder if somehow they have all conspired to mete out their revenge on me today.

11:45 – I pass by women and children balancing huge bundles of lumber on their heads while I’m struggling just to stay upright. These aren’t runners, this is their normal life. I estimate the biggest bundles at 200 pounds and the smallest at 100. The people carrying them all weigh less than 100 pounds.

12:00 – After four and a half hours I finally finish the race. I do a nose-dive across the finish line just for show. The winner today finished in just over 2 hours. I am cut, scratched, bruised, sore, dehydrated, and famished from the run. At the same time I am riding a runner’s high like no other. Occasionally the clouds broke just long enough to allow me to see the incredible beauty of the massif. I can’t describe to you the feeling of being on top of that rock looking down at the clouds and the tiny buildings way off in the distance.

Like I said, this was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done…and I enjoyed every minute of it…well, almost every minute of it.