Urwego Opportunity Bank

6 January 2010

Rwanda entry: 5

Urwego means ladder. Today we met with Urwego Opportunity Bank, it’s a micro-financing institution that works in Rwanda. They loan small amounts of money to women, who then form what they call trust groups. These trust groups work together in their community, form bi-laws, and promote development in both economic and social capacities. This morning we traveled out of Kigali, to the west. The paved roads in the city are in excellent condition, even in comparison to American roads, at least those in Arkansas. The sun was out, and the breeze was cool. As we left the city, open hills came into view. The road was lined with corn and cassava. Rwandans traveled alongside us- on mopeds, on bikes heavily burdened with wood or food for the market, and on foot, the typical carry-stuff-on-my-head model.

We finally reached the first town outside of Kigali, and turned onto a dirt road. Whatever impression of development I had experienced on pavement was thrown away at this point. Martin called it an African massage. I however did not find it so soothing. We were accompanied by two Urwego employees- one named Daniel, the other, a beautiful woman who didn’t speak English. As we drove along dirt roads crowded with vendors and bicycles, shouts of mazungu (white people) emanated from the chaos. The facial expressions were intriguing. Children looked at us with a gleam of hope in their eyes. Others had an expression of confusion, maybe caution. As we traveled through the rural villages, hoardes of people came out of the woodwork. Children yelling “mazungu mazungu mazungu” ran after the Land Cruiser as it bounced through the ruts mud. It was as if I were a mythological creature, a rare species. It was almost flattering, but at the same time, very strange.

We were going to see a UOB trust group in a small rural village. The dirt roads led us through hills and valleys covered with crops of avocado (which I’ve had at least one a day since I’ve been here), cassava, corn, goats, the occasional cow, and the occasional cluster of cottages. When we arrived, we were greeted by a group of men standing around a small fire, grilling pork skewers in the hot sun. We were led through an alley way by a young, squatty woman into a small room. The room was filled with over 40 women sitting closely on small wooden benches. It smelled of agriculture, of chickens and dirt. It was dimly lit from a small window and the light from an open doorway. We were led to the front of the room and sat on a bench in front of the women, who looked at us with wonder and question. One woman was breast feeding her child, another was counting Rwandan francs on the table in front of us. There were children peering through a shuttered window on the back wall, waving at us incessantly with glee. These women were clients of Urwego. They had all received loans ranging from $20 to around $200. The had formed this trust group, given themselves bi-laws, and built a community around the money that they had earned and invested. We introduced ourselves through a translator. We told them about our research and why we had come to them- to learn what was impossible to learn from books and the Internet. We asked them questions about their lives and how the loans they had received had changed their community. Several women stood to tell us their story. One woman had been a scavenger, searching for bits of food and small amounts of money to pay for any amount of subsistence. Because of Urwego, she was proud to tell us that she could now feed her children and that she had 3 goats. Another woman told us of her frustrations within her marriage. She used to ask her husband for money to buy salt and soap. It was a strain on her marriage, yet it was so simple. Now, she said, she could buy her own soap and salt. Now, when she goes to the market, she will bring back a pint for her husband.

The most profound part of this experience wasn’t the individual stories that these women told however. It was about the changes in the community, and the security that they all felt. The trust group gave them a sense of empowerment, a sense of autonomy, and a sense of responsibility. Instead of saying that the loans made them more powerful than their husbands, they said that now, their families worked together to promote their investments. One woman owned a barbershop; another owned a boutique. But all of these were family operations. And all of these operations were related back to the trust group dynamic. The group gave these women hope, and purpose. They relied on the group as a safety net and as a structure of friendship. And they pushed one another to achieve new goals. One woman stood up, and said that their slogan was “Make your bed.” I suppose this is the literal translation, but it means, “Put things in order.” She said that the trust group enforced a set of expectations. If a woman comes to the group and she does not have good hygiene, or her children are malnourished, she is ostracized. So that woman comes back the next time and she is clean and her children are fed. “Make your bed.”

Urwego is more than a loan officer. The bank trains these women (85% of their loans are to women). It gives them information on HIV/AIDS, malaria, family budgeting, and general health. Education lays the foundation for these loans, and the social cohesion that they have. It was a beautiful experience, to see the pride that these women had for themselves, and the gratitude that they, for some reason, showed to us. As we were leaving, we asked them to take a picture with us, and they were excited to oblige. We exited the small room and went back to the street that served as the center of their village. Children played in the streets, and the men cooked pork. After we took the picture, we shook hands with the women. “Murakoze” (thank you) was the only word that was spoken, but in it, I found so much meaning. Though we could only talk through a translator, we could still know one another through the most innocuous of phrases. Thank you. I’m not quite sure why they were thanking us. Maybe it was because we gave them an audience for their pride, an affirmation of their success. I know why I thanked them. As someone who studies development, these women were the image of hope in that field. It was very moving to see how much faith they had in themselves. Gender and the vulnerability of women in many societies confront development, and treats equality as an impossibility. These women were powerful. The three or four men that were present at the meeting were there as a replacement for their wives. I made sure to ask the men questions, and they seemed to be in agreement with the women about their common ventures, the development of their society. The men were proud of their wives. I would like to think that when we left, we were more than mazungu- maybe not. As we inched our way through the mountains, back to Kigali, there were still bewildered looks. But my interaction with these women was uplifting. 3 goats meant something, and so did making your bed. In my life, I probably won’t ever have a goat, and I usually don’t make my bed. But I am beginning to understand the meaning behind these symbols- putting things in order. My life is significantly easier than those of these women, and it’s quite different. There was something in this experience that connected us. Urwego means ladder, it means bringing up your community, and we can all do that.