Today on Twitter there is an ongoing conversation about the possibility that philanthropy can be damaging or dangerous. To that I said yes. Too often I have seen charities which target a certain population but don’t empower them to ameliorate the problem themselves.
For example, back in the 80′s and 90′s we needed a lot of different types of charities to work with the growing problem of AIDS. Gay men really rallied and did an amazing job of setting up clinics, political action groups, housing, nursing, you name it and they helped build it with the help of the general population. Now AIDS has moved more into the women and children of color population, but I have sadly watched as the pre-existing places for gay men fight to stay funded.
They did their jobs and they did them well. But lots of people got salaries from those jobs, and there were lots of ED’s who don’t want to give up their salaries either. So they fight to stay relevant when they should help move the money to where the need is now salaries be damned.
I believe that if One Village Does its job right we will go out of business. And that’s my goal. If we empower enough people and help them spread what they learned to other villages, we shall have done our job and it will be time to pack up and go home.
We’re a Drinking Club with a Philanthropic Problem
Isn’t that a great phrase? Last week I spoke on a panel about Board Development and people were fascinated to hear that the oldest member of my Board is 37. How could a non-profit run with such young people at the helm? Wasn’t I uncomfortable with their youth? How could they bring in the big donors? And the answer lies in the title of this blog entry.
No “mature” board member would think up a title like that. No seasoned board member would come up with the idea of monthly get togethers at local hot spots where the young and hip hang out. Yet these young people are our future. And having fun, unstuffy, less expensive events spreads the word for One Village at a Time. We won’t make a ton of money with any one of these events, but we will by the time we’re through.
If we don’t involve the millenials (whose reputation has been besmirched with such shows as Girls) how do they grow up to have a Philanthropic Problem? And don’t we want them to have that problem?
And if you want to join us this month for our Event here’s the link. Hope to see you there: https://www.facebook.com/events/138903706273169/
BTW: That tag line was written by a 26 year old. Pretty Fabulous I think.
Sometimes I don’t write for a while because things are quiet and I don’t have any updates. Today, unfortunately I do. Anyone who has been part of social media over the past couple of weeks knows about the Chick-Fil-A fiasco. But for those of you hiding under a rock, the Chairman of the company denounced homosexuality in the strongest of terms. This resulted in many tweets, much support from companies large and small decrying such words and such a stance. A couple of days ago there was even a “kiss in” to object to the policy of Chick-Fil-A.
Now they don’t call me Mothermadrigal as well as MamaOVAAT for nothing. Most of you readers are way too young to know who Mothermadrigal was. (From the Books Tales of the City by Armistad Mauphin). I carry this name with honor and have always believed it is not who you love but how you love that is important. So you’re asking just what does this have to do with One Village at a Time? A great deal frankly.
It was with enormous sorrow that I read this post on Facebook from a friend in Nairobi. And I am putting it up verbatim:
“A colleague of mine, David Kato, was murdered after the Chick-Fil-A-supported Family Research Council came to Uganda preaching their message of hate. CFA is entitled to fund this and you are entitled to give them more money to spend on it, but you should also own the direct connection between those actions. A couple of weeks before he was killed, David sat in a human rights meeting and begged us for help. He knew the danger he faced upon his return to Uganda. His plea brought me to tears but I was unable to protect him. But what really saddens me is to see the posts from some of you that indicate your support for this overt hatred.”
Whether you know it or not homosexuality is punishable by death in some African countries. Kenya has only recently revoked the death penalty for homosexuality, though it still remains a crime. And in Uganda which is a few miles across the border from where I work, people are murdered for it.
So I cry out and hope some of you are paying attention. The policy of Chick-Fil-A is worldwide and it lead to a man’s death. Their profits are going to support the Death to Gays Bill in Uganda. So tonight I am sad. I am sad for a group of people who would want to kill others for what they do in private. I am sad because it will make so many young people hide, make treating HIV all the more difficult, and lead to a lot of deaths.
Tonight I will go up on my roof deck and light a candle and let it shine for David’s life and for the lives of that are lost through hatred. Maybe you’ll light one too.
Here’s the link for the full article: http://thenewcivilrightsmovement.com/chick-fil-a-profits-are-supporting-ugandas-kill-the-gays-bill/politics/2012/08/01/45430
I know that most countries are born of blood. No one cedes territory easily. I guess the French were happy to get paid for Louisiana, but by and large it’s fought over and someone wins. The war in South Sudan breaks my heart. For so long the north and the south have been fighting, and last summer it looked like South Sudan, the newest country in the world would make it.
Being the realist that I am, I didn’t really think they were going to break from the North without bloodshed. I’ve seen people slaughtered in Africa over tribal issues. This isn’t even just tribal: it’s oil. Yeah, goopy, precious oil that the South has. The North, though, has the pipelines and the military. A situation poised for a showdown.
Wherever there are valuable resources in the poverty stricken countries of Africa some do very, very well. But the farmer, the pastoralist, the small businesswoman selling tomatoes or beans on the side of the road, the child chasing a chicken in the middle of the road, these are the ones slaughtered in the fight over the resources. Today’s Washington Post has some particularly poignant photos of the South Sudanese caught in caves, hiding from the bombs and planes flying overhead. I am glad that I can read an American paper that talks about this tragedy. Usually I have to go to an African one. I have put a link to them at the bottom of this blog.
I write today out of sorrow, out of frustration, out a question when or why. I have promised to be only a raindrop and do the small thing that I do, but when do we evolve upwards towards a better being. A patient of mine asked me a similar question today and I tried to answer it. Frankly, I don’t know. I wonder about folks like me, whether indeed we make a difference. I wonder if we shall ever stop fighting over our God, our tribe, our best interests, our resources. And I wonder if anyone cares about the innocents caught in the crossfire. If you do, leave me a note. Let me know what you think. Where to next?
I never cease to be frustrated by the medical system in this country. I suppose it’s better than Kenya, but that’s not saying much.
Last fall, dear readers, as you recall Mama came home from Kenya with an unset broken leg.(Yeah that was the no X-ray machine, no tech and no splint post). While in the ER for the first time I told the Orthopod that my knee was also messed up. To which he replied.” I don’t do knees”. Ok so what does that mean? Means he’s only focusing on the broken leg and he’s going to skip the dysentery and the bashed knee. That was in November.
It is now April. I am walking fairly well, but the knee is still a mess. So I go to a new guy (researched carefully. You always want the 40 something hot shot. He/She has enough experience not to kill you and is up to date on latest techniques). Why yes indeed, he says to me and the score of med students and interns. “Watch as she tries to stand up. That’s what a torn meniscus looks like. And see here the arthritis, and here where the tumor was? Did you have allo graft? Why you’re a pioneer.”
So we cut to the chase and I say let’s just get this fixed. He likes my attitude and we are good to go. Or not…MRI 2 days later, scheduled for surgery the next week. But there is something called the pre-op prep which must be done by a nurse on the phone.And this is where it gets dicey. See she leaves me a number that is a recording. I leave her my number and tell her when I can be reached. No call. I try again leaving a second message. Still no call. Finally after I cannot answer the phone she calls to tell me that they took a long lunch and we need to do this before surgery. How nice for you that you took a long lunch! What I have no life, and I’m just breathless with anticipation waiting for your call? I’m not sure they understand I will be working up till I have to go to the hospital and plan to walk out of there. And I do plan to see clients the next day. I’m not sure they are ready for me.
Of course I have had this surgery before, so I know what to expect blah blah blah, but the rules darling the rules.So I have no clue when we’ll have our little chat, but it will happen. And the knee will be fixed asap. Wait till they hear what I want them to do.I have my rules too. I’ll get back to you on that next week.
So dear machete man, you truly gave me a gift that will hopefully stop giving after Thursday…and then the rehab…and then guess what? I’m on my way back to Kenya.
It began with Lillian really. I fell in love with her, her courage, the dignity of her mother. And I fell in love with being able to give in a way I could see. Lillian was part of our first project. I had one donor, $4000 and was feeding 22 children. I thought I was really doing well. I knew all the kids names and families and how they were doing in school. Lillian was a special case because her AIDS had finally been diagnosed.
Lillian contracted HIV at 13months due to a transfusion. She was sick off and on for years without a diagnosis. Finally as she was practically dying her mother got her tested and indeed she was positive. But there was hope, since Lillian was enrolled in a drug protocol so she could get the drugs. I loved bringing her a new dress and her family news that a minister would help with their bus fare. Yes I did.Her story is in the link below.
And the I was the problem. Giving is an interesting human phenomenon. We do it for so many reasons: for recognition, for our faith, to feel good, to be praised and noticed, the list goes on. And I was doing it, though somewhat noble, because I felt good about it. It became too personal. And in the end it was a bit of a fiasco. Much of the money we sent over there was siphoned off, the kids weren’t being fed, and furthermore I found out that we could feed a lot more in schools.
Moving to a school based program allowed One Village to feed more kids effectively. I still didn’t have the protocol down well. I still didn’t have community contributions as I had wanted, and it was still an I.
Then the new board arrived. They were bright, connected, great ideas and wanted part of the organization. And by the grace of God I let them in. (So many ED’s disempower their boards and make them yes men). One helped me find a partner through Kiva, another helped get a fundraiser off the ground, someone kept the books properly, and 8 years after Lillian we had a program that runs smoothly, is effective and helps communities turn the corner.
So why am I writing this? Because I hope someone will read it and know that you can do a small thing and make a difference. But if it’s not about you and you join with others then the small thing becomes bigger . And if you can put down your ego the chance of learning and growing is beyond your imagination.
I had dinner with a friend the other night. We both come from the land of misfit toys. We still believe we can make a difference in Africa, but it is getting harder and harder to explain ourselves to our peers. Going to places where grenades go off and people are routinely killed with machetes is not for the AARP set.
It goes from bad to worse these days. I follow Kenya the most since that is where we are working. But South Sudan is up there, as is Somalia. Corruption in governments, tribal differences killing men women and children. This week has been particularly disturbing.
Last week I called out saying that childbirth should not kill. This week, not only are more women dying in childbirth in Kenya than ever before, but also the reason is almost incomprehensible. 25,000 health workers went on strike. The government in their own insanity then fired them all and tried to get retired workers to take their places.
They don’t have enough health workers or equipment with or without the strikers. And the situation only worsens as the days go by. Healthcare in developing countries is a crapshoot at best but in Kenya right now it’s a shot with a 38.
This week the Nairobi bus station was also hit with grenades. Nine are dead many injured. Kind of tough to have that happen when there is no one in the hospital to take care of the victims. That was due to El Shabbab. CNN indicated it was the beginning of tribal violence, which sent Kenyan Bloggers into rocket land. How dare CNN call this tribal wars? It’s bad for tourism to say that, even though it’s true
The very next day Kenya’s paper reported Odinga (the Prime Minister) speaking out about tribal animosities and their danger as elections come near. All of Kenya and many of us who were stuck in the violence remember that. Things simmer so close to the surface over there. I’m not optimistic about elections there (or in the US for that matter).
So why will I return as soon as I can? Even a misfit toy doesn’t want to lose its stuffing. I go because I can’t imagine giving up. I think there need to be some stalwarts who will go and try and help because turning their heads and running in the opposite direction won’t make the problems go away. I go because maybe just maybe one life will be changed because I went.
I didn’t think turning 65 would bother me, but it has made me pause. I know now that most of my time has been used. I’m ok with that. I have been talking to a few people about how One Village at a Time got started. I pulled out a video that I put together several years ago.
I look at myself, listen to my words and it seems decades ago. I hear my American voice and I know that the people didn’t understand my nasal accent and me. I see that I was the one doing the work and being lady bountiful. I am almost embarrassed that the people in the film had to be the kindergarten where I first learned how to work in Africa. I hope I did more good than harm.
It’s only been 10 years since I started, but what a journey it has been. Learning patience, accepting the vicissitudes of everyday life over there, keeping hope up when you’re about to fall off the cliff.
The first program was in Siaya. I remember I was so proud that we were feeding, clothing and paying school fees for 18 kids for $4000. How naïve I was. We do that now for little more than $100. I had to learn to get better partners, and that you need to pay people over there. Otherwise the money they get is just too tempting to take a piece of. And sometimes they do even if you do pay them. I fled that fiasco when I found that the woman who was supposed to be running the program took all the money. Thank heavens for an understanding board.
The second program got better. We went into schools. I counted on a community organizer to help the program go. It was supposed to be cost sharing, but we never got accurate accounts, and they never made any progress. See, I was still seen as Lady Bountiful with unlimited funds. They had no impetus to change. Oh and that leader, he left for Mombasa and never told me.
But today, when I spoke to Monica in Kigali, I knew we were there. Our program is crisp and clean. I am the woman behind the curtain. No longer do the villagers see me as anything more than a curious white girl. Our team in the field is tough and organized. I found out that when the team went to one school and the parents had not put in their contribution, the team packed up and left. Yesssss. Monica went on to tell me of the changes in the team, all of them good.
We work together, she and I. We are on the same wavelength. We share the same vision. Get these communities up and running and self-sustaining as fast as possible. We laugh over the schools we thought would do poorly are now succeeding. We commiserate over a dishonest worker Monica had to fire. We lay plans for the future
I have come such a long way from the skinny woman I see in that old film. I speak Kenyan English, I don’t fall for the pity party, I continue to love and be blessed by what I do. I know 65 is a number, but it is a number I’ve thought about all my life as an ending and for me, I’m still in the middle of something. So I hope there’s no ending any time soon
I just had lunch with a lady who helps non-profits get the word out. She had some good suggestions all of which I will honor. As we were talking about the industry of charity and non-profits, I posited this dilemma. We are very small. Our budget is $25,000 a year. It costs about $3000 to sponsor a school. The problem is that big business and folks like Gates won’t give out $3000 they want you to ask for $300,000. And because we don’t want nearly that amount we can’t get any. So I’m asking you folks…do you want to sponsor a village? Would you and your company want to change a whole village for $3000? If so please get in touch. We only want to go into a few more villages.
It is difficult to watch the starvation in Somalia and now stumbling into Kenya. It’s not that it’s new. But it’s so much worse. People can think there is nothing I can do and so they turn their heads away. I understand, it is daunting.
Monday I went to meet with a donor though who understood our purpose and wanted to help. Like the Drummer Boy he gave what he could. He gave me 2 awesome tickets to the last pre-season game for the Patriots. These are not just any tickets, but 50 yard line tickets. They’re not up in the boonies they’re right on the field. And we are raffling them off.
Each raffle ticket is $20 and only 100 will be sold so people really get a chance to win. But what’s really cool is that if you don’t win you get a tax deduction. And we get to keep feeding the children. Maybe today is your lucky day. Please take a chance, buy a ticket to see the Pats V the Giants on 9/1 at Gillette Stadium, and if not, you’ve fed 10 children.
Pretty cool eh?
can be damaging or dangerous. To that I said yes. Too often I have seen charities which target a certain population but don’t empower them to ameliorate the problem themselves.
