Note: IHF supporter and volunteer Jenica Wozniak recently spent a week at our partner site in Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala. We will be posting a few of her observations and thoughts here over the coming week or two. This first piece reflects on her experience working with students in the IHF’s secondary school scholarship program.
A teacher myself, I was eager to work with the scholarship students here in Guatemala and do whatever I could to lend a hand. I tutored a couple of students one morning, and left the library with a web of tangled observations and questions.
Most kids here go to elementary school, though not all of them graduate from 6th grade. I don’t have any data, but one estimate is that about a quarter to a third of them go on to secondary school.
I worked with two kids that morning. Rebeca arrived first and she is sobresaliente en todo (outstanding at everything). Then Francisco arrived, and he needed a bit more help. He didn’t understand everything I said, so Rebeca helped us out by translating into Tz’utujil, the local Mayan language. And he can’t express himself very well in Spanish, so I’m beginning to understand why school is hard for him.
We started with math, which he seemed to understand pretty well. Then came an art-like class, which I didn’t really comprehend. He wasn’t really drawing anything himself, but rather learning about different art terms. We talked about perspective and things like that. And then came the list of vocab words. He had no textbook to reference, just a notebook filled with definitions that included some very tricky technical vocabulary. It looked like Francisco had copied down the definitions from somewhere without bothering to get the spelling right. And he clearly didn’t understand what the definitions meant because they were too complicated. Think college-level terminology and grammar. As we struggled through the exercises, I couldn’t help but wonder how in the world it was supposed to be helpful to Francisco and productive for his education.
In light of that experience with Francisco, I came up with a few thoughts for how towns like Santiago Atitlán might go about improving their educational systems. I’m not an expert in Guatemalan education policy, of course, but here’s what my experience as a teacher leads me to suggest.
First, all of the children need to complete at least the first half of secondary school. Those three extra years beyond primary school provide an immense boost to the array of career possibilities open to a student. The value of education must be recognized and taught. And the school day needs to be extended so that children are receiving instruction for more than four hours a day.
Next, the education must be available. The Guatemalan government must put forth the money so that the children are able to go to school and have the materials necessary to do their work. This is a tough one given Guatemala’s relatively poor economy and the fact that, according to the Heritage Foundation, government tax revenues account for only 11.9% of GDP (by way of comparison, Uganda is at 12.6%, India is at 17.7%, and the US is at 28.2%). But a situation where secondary education costs at least $150 a year in towns like Santiago, where many families scrape by on about $3 a day, clearly calls for some solution.
Finally, the teachers need to learn better strategies so that they can more effectively instruct the students that come to them. They need to simplify the concepts and use vocabulary the students understand. They need to provide activities that allow students to interact with the material. They need to use formative assessment to more frequently monitor student achievement. And they need to provide more individualized assistance for the students who struggle. All these changes are, clearly, difficult to enact, because teachers themselves need training. They are, nevertheless, necessary.
I believe that the well-being of a society depends on the education of its youth, and Santiago Atitlán concerns me. Is this the best we can do? While I don’t imagine I’ll ever make much of a difference in Guatemalan education policy, I am doing what I can by sponsoring a scholarship for one student in Santiago. More on that next time I post.
- Jenica
In quite a few circles, trickle-down economics has something of a bad rep - and deservedly so. The theory that cutting taxes on the wealthy is a sure-fire way to improve life for everyone has not fared particularly well in its confrontation with economic reality. They’re not new, but these two articles, from TPM and Robert Frank, do a pretty solid job of running through the empirical evidence that trickle-down theory is about as accurate as a two-buck psychic. Recent events, however, lead me to wonder whether its critics are being too harsh on trickle-down economics. My current visit to IHF partner site in Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala, has driven home that there is, indeed, at least one context in which trickle-down theory has something valuable to offer, namely, an economic crisis. A story from that visit will, I think, do the best job of clarifying what I mean.
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| Candelaria at Biblioteca Puerta Abierta |
Last night, I had dinner with Heidi, the Executive Director of the IHF; Jenica, a Spanish teacher who is volunteering with IHF’s scholarship program; and Candelaria, the 19-year-old tutor and teacher who supervises the scholarship program and provides study hours for the students. We sat at the corner table of the Posada de Santiago - a table with quite a bit of history for the IHF - and talked about the state of the scholarship program, Candelaria’s various educational jobs, and life in Santiago. After a while, the conversation turned to the subject of Candelaria’s family, specifically her five younger siblings. All but the youngest are in school, and the income from Candelaria, her mom, and her dad barely pays the bills, especially since one sister lost her scholarship due to lack of funding for the sponsoring organization. The entire program had folded because donors didn’t have as much to give as in the past. While the IHF’s program continues, we had to cut its size by 64 percent between 2008 and 2009 to keep it afloat. Here, it occurred to me, was a concrete example of trickle-down economics!
The current economic crisis started at the very top, with investment bankers and other financial professionals making egregiously irresponsible bets on the mortgages of people who, in great part, had been pressured or enticed into thinking they could afford to borrow hundreds of thousands of dollars that they, frankly, could not. When the bets started going bad, those i-bankers lost big. But the losses didn’t stop with them. Of course, they hit the people who’s money the professionals were managing. But then, the effects trickled-down. From i-bankers to IndyMac employees to factory workers and every tax-payer in the United States.
The trickle-down effect of the crisis did not, however, respect national borders. Money flows freely from country to country these days (not in itself a bad thing), so there is hardly a community in the world that doesn’t somehow feel the effects of a crisis originating in the rarefied atmosphere of the US financial system, whether in the form of lost jobs or, as in the case of Candelaria’s sister, lower budgets for development organizations. The end result is that when American investment bankers make bad moves, kids in Guatemala lose their scholarships, and more families get closer to the brink of having to decide between education and sufficient food. The trickle, it seems, only flows when things are falling apart.
P.S. Be on the lookout for a video profile of Candelaria and her incredible educational work soon. It’ll be posted here and on the IHF’s main site, internationalhf.org.
With the growing threat of global warming and health concerns due to harmful emissions, the public may want to consider seeing what Bogota, Columbia is up to, as outlined in this New York Times article from a little while back.
As the article points out, one popular street, Seventh Avenue, illustrates a polluted, loud, and unhealthy approach to travel. We see this sort of image all over the world in major metropolitan areas. But less than a few miles away from Seventh Avenue, there is an example of a dramatically different way of dealing with traffic flow, noise pollution, and contaminated air. On the four center lanes of Avenida de las Américas, there are large red buses operating on a new transit system called B.R.T. (Bus Rapid Transit). Similar to a subway system that operates above ground, these buses are efficient, clean, and have low emissions.
Bogota’s B.R.T. (called TransMilenio) is less expensive than building an entire underground subway system, and is an indicative point that the country is moving in the right direction towards environmentalism and public health. TransMilenio averages 1.6 million trips a day, and has been the leading reason why over 7,000 private buses have been removed from the roads. Emissions from buses have been reduced by close to 59% since the opening of TransMilenio in 2001, according to this NY Times article. Following in similar steps, communities in
This got me thinking…we hear a lot about developing countries not wanting to reduce CO2 emissions, but here’s an example of an emissions-reducing, money-saving, growth-promoting move. Perhaps the work of grassroots advocacy is to identify opportunities like this and push for them. Although not as effective as an underground subway system, the B.R.T. is a climb in the right direction and much cheaper—and anything can help. It seems to me that this underscores that as responsible citizens, we need to be proactive and, especially, realistic in regards to environmental initiatives.
The IHF just launched its $20.09 Stimulus Campaign, an effort to stimulate sustainable development by investing where it matters most: at the grassroots in developing communities around the world. As the IHF team has talked over this campaign, we’ve gotten to thinking a lot about what makes $20.09 so much more than just a catchy idea. Everyone from Domino’s to your local car dealer has played on the stimulus theme, but the IHF $20.09 Campaign does more than just riff on a popular concept - it actually does some good in the world economy. As we move ahead with the campaign - and as you consider joining our facebook group, following us on Twitter, or donating - here are a few thoughts about what takes this effort beyond gimmicky to dynamic and life-changing.
1. Economists emphasize the importance of investment for long-term growth and economic prosperity. Investment, of course, can take a lot of forms. It can be, say, the purchase of a new machine at a factory - investment in physical capital. But at least as important is investment in human capital, the skills that people have at their disposal to use for the benefit (or detriment…I’m looking at you, Bernie Madoff) of the world around them.
You can think of it like this. All economic products are made up of “stuff” and “ideas” (or particular ways of using “stuff”). A table, for example, is made of wood (its “stuff”) cut and put together in such a way that you can put a fruit bowl on top without it falling off and sit around it comfortably (the “idea” of a chair). Since there is only so much “stuff” in the universe, economic growth depends on the production of new ideas that make possible more or better uses of stuff. Investing in physical capital is using an idea to turn stuff into desireable things. Investing in human capital is creating the conditions necessary for new ideas and new uses of things. In the long-run, all economic growth depends on the growth of human capital.
The IHF invests in human capital in our partner communities by supporting early childhood education in Mexico, helping young people earn secondary school diplomas in Guatemala, training Indian craftsmen to make health-enhancing ventilated cookstoves, and more. In the short-run, these investments benefit the people who receive them directly, but in the long-run, the skills that those people gain improve the lives of their entire communities and make an impact on the world as a whole. Where once it was impossible to build a ventilated cookstove, it now becomes possible. The people who live healthier lives because of that stove can now devote themselves more fully to improving the conditions in which they and their community live. The community as a whole can contribute new skills and ideas to the broader world. And…you see how it goes.
2. This all seems well and good, right? But, I can imagine someone asking, since this is a down time in our country, shouldn’t we keep as many resources here as we can? Now, I’m inclined to make the moral argument for why that’s not the case. And I hesitate to make the case for why it’s in the best interest of Americans to contribute money to projects for people in other countries, because I think we should do it regardless of whether it’s to our advantage. But with that caveat, let me briefly suggest why, in the end, it might work out better for all of us if those of us in more prosperous countries keep giving to projects like the IHF’s even when we’re down.
First, the long-run growth of economies in the Global South is important for the health of wealthier economies like America’s because the latter produce primarily complicated products and services that are relatively high-cost. If people in, say, Nicaragua can’t afford anything that the American economy has to offer, the US loses out on export possibilities. So, when developing economies grow, so do markets for American goods and services.
Second, improving living conditions in the Global South, like the IHF’s projects do, will speed up the adoption of environmentally friendly technologies and reduce many types of environmental degradation, such as deforestation for the collection of wood for heating and cooking, which removes carbon-cleaning trees and increases the risk of natural disasters like the 2005 mudslide in Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala.
So, there you have my thoughts about why the IHF $20.09 Stimulus Campaign makes sense. I’d love to hear what you think. Do you have questions? doubts? other ideas? Stick them in the comments below.
Secretary General Ban Ki Moon opens the UN’s 2008 report on progress towards the Millennium Development Goals with several cautionary notes. “The economic slowdown will diminish the incomes of the poor; the food crisis will raise the number of hungry people in the world and push millions more into poverty; climate change will have a disproportionate impact on the poor.” Secretary Ban goes on to attribute some of these threats to progress on a lack of concerted effort and attention by developed nations.
Some people say that development aid has a decreasing role to play in improving livelihoods. There is no question that development – economic and social – must be led from within communities, states and regions. But can we really expect developing nations to unwind the issues facing them in an intensely interconnected world without aligned efforts from developed countries?
Secretary Ban goes on to say that “the current troubled climate poses a risk that some advances in reducing poverty may unravel. Some gains, however, cannot be undone. A child will forever benefit from the primary education he or she might not otherwise have received. Many individuals are alive today thanks to a measles vaccination or antiretroviral therapy for AIDS. These and other examples provide ample evidence of what can and has been achieved with sound strategies backed by political will and financial and technical support.”
As we all weather this uncertain time, we can’t forget how poverty, or social and political instability increase exposure to an severe economic downturn. We also can’t forget some basic human facts. The ties that bind are between people, and then between communities.
In a time when we might want to turn inwards, and when a dollar is worth more than ever, organizations like the IHF are more important than ever. By deepening ties between communities, we are able to stretch donors’ dollars to very great lengths. And by building sustainable partnerships between communities abroad and students in the US, the IHF creates a groundwork for the ongoing support that developing communities and countries need. As Secretary Ban says, some changes can never be undone. This goes as much for a child in the developing world as for a student at a top US university.
We maintained our friendship with Natalia and Chonita over the years - always checking on how they were doing and making small talk whenever we made a site visit, but when we came back to Santiago in August of 2007 for a full year, we began to see much more of Natalia, Chonita, and Chonita’s little brother, Domingo. Each time, Natalia told me more about her situation, including the seriousness of her husband’s condition and the lack of support from her family and in-laws. She had heard about a rehab program which had been successful for some other notorious Santiago alcoholics, and she wanted to send her husband, Max to this program. I sat quietly, thinking about her roundabout request for a loan of Q1200 ($160) for the three months of rehab while I watched little Chonita and Domingo, clearly underfed, devour six bananas in one sitting. I then agreed to the request and told her that she didn’t have to pay me back; but of course, Natalia continued offering to do a variety of things on my behalf.
Three months later, Max returned to his family and I finally met him. He had noticeable symptoms of liver damage and lots of unexplained pain, but he was extremely grateful to everyone. He began attending Alcoholics Anonymous or his family’s church on a nightly basis and has since been actively working or searching for work and providing for his family. He is now almost eight months sober.
Through Natalia’s “volunteer” work, I realized that she had a special skill with a measuring tape and a good eye for textile quality. Apparently, Natalia had spent a few years working in a sweatshop in Guatemala City. So, when the IHF’s Just Apparel project was in need of a quality control manager, she was a perfect fit (and of course the project pays her a living wage and ensure a relaxed working environment!). She has been working as a leader with Just Apparel since April and her family is now making a consistent living wage. Chonita has started school, the family moved into a new house in the government funded Post Hurricane Stan reconstruction site (yes, they were victims of the 2005 mudslide as well), and Max is contributing to the family instead of taking from it.
While this is a story of one family, it is representative of the kinds of long-term relationships that stem from the long-term partnership model of the IHF. These relationships are not only valuable in and of themselves (for all parties involved); they also allow us to move beyond generalities and demographics into unique stories and respond to the specific needs of specific people. These small steps and individual stories each contribute to a larger process of empowerment and grassroots change.
The IHF has just released its Summer 2008 newsletter. Check it out.
There is nothing quite like waking up in a new place, around people you’ve only just met, expecting to start your first day of work, and realizing that your stomach is so cramped up it hurts to be awake, let alone move. It happened to me shortly after I arrived in Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala, and I survived, but allow me to explain what transpired before I knew that I would be ok.
I drank some water, lied down, and texted Heidi, the Just Apparel project manager that I would be working with. “I’m not feeling so great, I’m just going to lie down a bit longer,” I wrote. I didn’t want to be a chore on my first day. 30 minutes later I threw up the water, and 30 minutes after that I dry heaved because there was nothing left in my stomach to throw up. By that point I had called Heidi, but I still didn’t want to be a pain, and I figured it had to be a virus that would pass.
Sadly, though I suppose this makes for a better story, it did not pass that easily, for the rest of the morning my stomach would not stop hurting and I would periodically throw up/dry heave. At one point Heidi was checking on me and I went into the bathroom to dry heave some more. Heidi made the executive decision that it was time to go to the hospitalito. I was reassured that the Hospitalito was a good place and filled with American volunteers. I thought back to my 19-year-old roommate’s spring break trip to Latin America where she had been asked to administer shots and other drugs for the first time. “Don’t let me have a ‘doctor’ like that,” I thought.
When I got to the hospitalito, they had a lot of difficulty finding my shrunken, dehydrated veins, and may have stuck me a couple times before they could get the IV in, but otherwise I received very good care. It turns out I had giardia, a nasty parasite that was attacking my stomach and intestines. I was sent home with some Flagyll medication, which does wonders to kill the parasites, but tastes terrible. Within a couple days I was out and running again, and I finally Ihad my first day of work.
It’s striking how easy it is for a comparatively wealthy volunteer from the US to contract a parasitic infection, get treatment, and get back to business, while so many children around here have chronic intestinal problems. Giardia is just a part of life for the population of Santiago. Clean water is hard to come by, and it’s certainly not cheap. The sewage system here is rudimentary, and in the outlying areas, latrines are far from universally available. I suppose people’s bodies get used to parasites (any doctors who can confirm that in the comments?), but after what I went through, it’s hard to imagine.
I’ve learned that if you come from the right place you can get sick in a foreign country, around people you barely know, and live to smile about it… though you might want to wait till the stomach cramps go away to laugh - it hurts a lot less.
Katie
This morning Heidi and I were talking to the lawyer who’s helping us out with the legal formation of the Just Apparel Partner Artisans’ group. Specifically, we were discussing the contracts that we had asked him to draw up between the artisans’ association and Dolores, our general manager, and Natalia, our quality control specialist. Natalia works for JA part time at an hourly wage of 10 quetzales, which is more than double what she made when she worked at a textile factory in Guatemala City and about one and a half times the Guatemalan minimum wage computed hourly. We expressed that we were hoping to formalize that relationship and give Natalia the benefit of being a contractually employed worker. And that’s when we stumbled inadvertently into the labyrinthine mess that is Guatemalan labor law.
You see, if I understand our conversation correctly, there’s no such thing as a part-time job in Guatemala. The minimum wage is not computed hourly, but rather monthly, and there’s no provision for someone who works less than eight hours a day six days a week to earn a prorated salary that varies by hours worked. That monthly minimum salary is Q.1310 ($175). But, naturally, there’s also a government-mandated “bonificacion incentivo” (incentive bonus) that each worker has to receive. The last time I checked, a mandatory bonus isn’t an incentive. It’s a raise. So that brings the monthly salary to Q.1560 ($210). In addition to the mandatory monthly bonus, the law also requires a mandatory bi-annual bonus of one month’s salary. So, for every twelve months of work, the law requires fourteen months of salary. That means that over the course of a year, a worker is legally entitled to Q.21840 ($2950).
Now, from the perspective of the US, that sounds pitifully small, right? A family of six (average for Guatemala) with two workers would still only earn $3.70 per person per day, which isn’t exactly the makings of a life of material comfort. As someone working to promote grassroots development efforts in Guatemala, I would love nothing more than to see everyone here earning more than the minimum wage. There’s just one catch. With all the bonuses and the like, the Guatemalan minimum wage comes out to be 118% of the estimated 2007 GDP per capita. As a point of comparison, if the US were to mandate a minimum wage that large, the minimum annual salary would be $54,100. Using the 55-hour work week that’s common in Guatemala, that would compute to a minimum hourly wage of around $18.90, or 2.75 times the federal minimum wage once it rises this summer.
Given the level of income inequality in Guatemala (the wealthiest 10% of Guatemalans earn over 43% of the country’s income), it’s currently impossible for everyone who works to earn minimum wage. There’s simply no way. It appears that the Guatemalan state may have let its good intentions get ahead of what is realistically possible. I have to ask if perhaps it wouldn’t be better for the government here to lower the minimum wage a little, allow for an hourly minimum wage for part-time employment, and bring a larger percentage of the population into the formal labor force, thereby at least granting those people basic labor rights, even if they weren’t earning an exceptional salary.
Welcome to the International Humanitarian Foundation’s blog, “Creating Global Change.” Over the coming months, IHF volunteers around the globe will share their thoughts on such subjects as the role of volunteers in development, the significance of partnership as a development model, and the ethics of development.
We hope you find our posts interesting, compelling, and entertaining. Please feel free to contribute your comments: our goal is to foster conversation about important issues in development. Check back every Friday for new content.
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