I remember my Global Health Corps’ training at Yale University; I remember my excitement to finally be able to combine humanitarian work, global health and writing. And I remember, also, the many times I waited for my uncle to pick me up from school; I was fifteen and across the street, facing the bus stop, was the CARE Burundi’s office at the time, on Boulevard de l’Uprona. I am unable to tell how many times I stared at the logo, intrigued by the handprints and what I thought was, at the time, a misspelling of the French word carré.
I remember all this on August 8th 2014; it’s my second month as a Knowledge Management, Information and Communication fellow at CARE Burundi. Today is also my first time going upcountry with CARE for a field visit. Once my backpack is packed, I climb into CARE’s Range Rover, my senses heightened by the excitement of the unknown, and with Deep Forest’s ‘Marta’s song’ playing in my earphones.
As a new CARE Burundi employee, this is my first field visit to the country side. I’ve seen how Village Savings and Loan Associations (VSLAs) generate money in urban settings near Bujumbura: the women of Nawe Nuze -CARE Burundi’s flagship VSLA program- do business, sell goods and make profit.
Besides promoting locally self-managed solidarity groups in rural areas, VSLAs also teach sexual and reproductive health, microfinance, women’s rights and gender equality in order to truly affect women’s empowerment in a way that is sustainable and relevant.
At ten o’clock in the morning we leave Bujumbura’s CARE office and after an hour-long drive along Lake Tanganyika’s bluest blue waters, we finally reach Bugarama. There, between banana trees and with nothing but the road between us and the lake, we wait for the Nawe Nuze group to gather. Surprisingly, people are unusually calm, faces are grave and we are greeted with a solemn welcome: one of the group members died in childbirth the night before. The sad, revolting event reminds us of the importance of CARE Burundi’s work in rural areas, especially in regard to maternal health and sexual and reproductive health.
Despite the shock and sheer pain, the participants decide to have the interview as planned. My co-fellow Karen and I take a seat under a mango tree, a stone’s throw away from the grieving household, where, every now and then, you can hear the child’s painful cries.
Changing lives
Here in Bugarama, the VSLA is mixed: five men and ten women – three of them in their late 60s. Speciose, President of the VSLA, explains to us the function of their program. “We come from a very poor community. In the beginning, it was hard for us to get a source of revenue steady enough to start the VSLA program. But with a little bit of imagination and elbow grease, everything is possible; especially when you have a dozen of people equally motivated with you.”
Speciose’s philosophy was the starting point of the bricks project. “Men did the hardest part of prepping the mixture of water and loam while we molded bricks. We made 2,000 bricks and sold them for 50 Bif each. We used the free resources of the environment so what we made was 100% ours. With the 100,000 BiF, we bought 200 plates and spoons that people rent for big events. The idea is wonderful because even when we are not working, we still make profit.”
Since this VSLA relies a lot on labor, Karen and I were wondering how the older women were holding up. “Their help is so precious!” said Spesiose, “Besides cooking for everybody while we are molding bricks, they lend us their children and grandchildren to help us plow the fields, mold and transport bricks. So you see…each one of these grandmothers represents the strength of three or four robust teenagers!” Speciose laughs.
For Daniel, one of the five men in the program, life is making a dramatic turn-around “I am a bricklayer in Bujumbura, and it’s common for me to be unemployed for months. My family and I would go hungry and take loans we knew would be impossible to reimburse. When I joined the program, I had no clear idea in mind. All I wanted was to work with them and make extra money instead of just sitting in the house. All I did was ask for small loans to buy food and feed my family. My wife was the first to see the potential of Nawe Nuze and asked me to take a loan to finance her tangerine project. With 20,000 Bif ($13), she rented a tangerine tree. At the end of the season, she made 240,000 Bif ($120) of profit and reimbursed her loan with 1% interest. She then invested her money in children’s clothing. Few weeks later, we were able to pay the rent on time, pay for the children’s school kits and we had enough left to eat. For the first time in years, we were able to live decently. Now we are finalizing our new house; she is taking care of most of the expenses. I am very proud of her…after all, how many men can say ‘my wife is building us a house’? ”
Speciose, emotional, compares the pre-VSLA with now: “before Nawe Nuze, we had no community. Everybody was too miserable to even get out of the house and so we would just sit home, hungry. Now I know my rights as a woman, I can save up, feed my family, give my children an education and talk about the future instead of living day by day. What CARE did for us is priceless. Knowledge cannot be stolen or broken. What I now know will stay with me and I will pass it on to my children.”
We end our day of stories by Speciose sharing her vision of the VSLA’s future, “at this day, we have more than 3,000,000 BiF (about $3,000) saved up. We really wanted to buy a piece of land but it’s too expensive. We are exploring a way to join a cooperative so we can expand our savings faster. Maybe you can help us with that.”
The body is ready, men are gathering in the courtyard to take the departed mother of five to the nearest graveyard. I leave the solidarity group so they can say their final goodbyes while I go back to my safe, censored, protected urban cocoon. I can’t help but feel full; full of dreams, full of stories that still need to be written. I hope I can go back to Bugarama and write another part of their lives. But in the meantime and on my way back to Bujumbura, I am going to listen to Sonny Stitt’s ‘In A Sentimental Mood‘; with all these words echoing in my head, all I need is a simple and humble melody to accompany them.