Education Consulting in Kasoa, Ghana - What is an Impact?

By Naomi Mae Wilson

Before I begin my experience of impact and the reasons on why I was hesitant and critical of leaving a piece of it in Ghana, it is important to know my background. I am originally from San Diego, CA. I have a Bachelor’s in African American Studies, a Master’s in Educational Leadership and am currently pursuing my PhD in Education Policy. I have a good amount of experience in community organizing, social justice education, and leadership. My background fueled my desire to work in Africa generally and inspired me to apply to the William Davidson Institute Fellowship in Ghana specifically.  I arrived in Ghana knowing that the experience would be life changing. Not only because it was me returning to Africa for a significant amount of time, but also because it would be my first time working in another country. In the end, Ghana proved to be everything I could imagine and more. My experience was phenomenal and I am extremely grateful to the two other fellows I worked with, the Omega company, and the support I received from the Pearson Affordable Learning Fund (PALF).

With the Omega Schools Assessment Team in Kasoa, Ghana

When I first arrived in Ghana 11 weeks ago I kept reminding myself that I can not save anyone, nor should I want to, and that I would make the best out of any situation. Having been in education for nearly 5 years now I knew education in the context of the United States, but had no understanding for an international frame. All of my traveling has been for leisure and this fellowship with the William Davidson Institute was the first to serve as a job internationally.  I was tasked with leading assessments for a low-cost private school chain, Omega Schools, that would use its’ data for efficacy check ins and potential investors.  I spent a majority of my time learning the area, the employees, and building a strategic plan that would make our assessments drive as seamless as possible. We were to assess 10 schools, totaling to around 900 students, using the Ghana National Education Assessment (GNEA) along with the Early Grade Reading Assessment for third grade and sixth grade students. As someone who has done logistics for years and finds it to be fun, I was not worried about the task but about the process and the outcome. I, as a Black American woman, was to come in and assess students I have never had contact with and only had a very minimal baseline understanding of the context of the local community within Kasoa.  Outside of my concerns of being an outsider, I also was weary of the actual impacts I could make. Before coming to Ghana, I deemed success as leaving an impact on an organization, job, team, etc. and I was unsure if this could happen within my project. Ghana has taught me a lot over the last 11 weeks and moreover, has granted me a greater understanding of what an impact can mean for various people.

While in Ghana I often had to think about my own privileges of nationality. Moreover, I thought about culture and context and how I could be the least infringing on the local peoples’ thoughts and desires for the company. As someone who considers herself an advocate it was hard for me to think about the ways I may have been perpetuating stereotypes or not checking myself.  In this sense, and being in a whole other context, I had to think about the fact that I actually could be oppressive in my own ways. By thinking about solutions from an American standpoint or putting my thoughts on how things should be without consultation can be oppressive. I do not always know the solution and although I do have a skillset in consulting it is not the end all solution. Coming into the project, I held myself accountable to stay listening and to get a sense of what it was like in the context of Ghana before I made suggestions. This proved to be helpful because there were some issues we had to address but I would not have been able to address them had I not learned first. I would not have been able to make my own impact on myself if I didn’t stay uncomfortable and always in dialogue. These experiences and conversations proved to be fruitful as it gave me legitimacy in the eyes of my coworkers. Often, visitors come into developing countries and begin to dictate what people should do and how without first learning the communities wants and needs and their agency. Because of this, one may be leading charges and making headway on their own agendas but, in my opinion, are not making a positive impact with the community itself.

An impact is more than what you make it and a result of collaboration, humility, and understanding. My experience in Ghana, especially in the beginning, was foundational to how I conducted myself in this way and throughout the rest of the fellowship. I took the time to learn about my surroundings while also pushing back in respectful ways. I heard the interests of the locals and also made my concerns heard in a way that did not trump others. I took a bite of humble pie while also advocating for the betterment of the company even if it meant being critical of leadership. My personal project was successful because it was completed and will be useful for future endeavors. But even more so, I decided that it is of a colonizer disposition to come into a community, lead a project, and not teach the people how to be able to do it themselves. It creates a power dynamic that makes a people dependent on the “stakeholder” in order to succeed. This is a key piece of colonization. I decided that I would teach the leadership how to do assessments for themselves and gave them the tools to be able to lead it on their own. That way, it felt like I not only made an impact but also fulfilled my desire to be an advocate and collaboratively work towards agency. This topic of impact and agency are a few of many experiences that are worthy of being discussed and this post is the first to get the conversation going. 

Thoughts On Fitting In and Standing Out

Elisabeth Michel
University of Michigan School of Public Health
(This is my second post from May - scroll down for the first!).

I feel like an invisible outsider.

All the villagers can clearly distinguish the muzungu (originally meaning “ghost”), the term used to refer to foreigners. Correction – the term used to refer to non-Black foreigners. I, on the other hand, an umunyamahanga (foreigner).  Kids run up to the muzungu for a handshake, or yell to them from yards away. Adults stare at them, and then spread their faces into a toothy grin and joyfully respond when the muzungu greets them in Kinyarwanda.

But it’s different for me. People often don’t take notice of me – until I start talking.

I’m pretty sure there is an elderly woman around here somewhere who thinks I am the rudest person under the sun. One day as I briskly walked to work, I saw her slowly approaching from the opposite direction. While we were still some ways from each other, she looked me in the eye and released a slew of words in Kinyarwanda. I maintained my walking pace, smiled and responded, “Mwirwe!” (Good afternoon!).

I don’t completely blend in, because my clothes are different and folks can tell them I’m not from Ruli. But it’s not immediately apparent that I’m not Rwandan. So I don’t get many stares, and people often don’t respond as enthusiastically to my greetings as they would to that of a muzungu.

My older brother is 6’5” and has always been taller than his peers mostly everyone around. My mother used to tell him when he was younger that he had to be aware of his surroundings and couldn’t always act as immature as his peers, since he looked older than his age. (Imagine someone you think is 15 acting like a 10-year-old…).

I feel like that sometimes when I walk around Ruli. As though I need to hold myself to a higher standard. Obviously, I cannot force myself to be someone I’m not – nor do I have any desire to do so. But I feel I have to go the extra mile to be respectful, work extra hard to learn as much of the language as is possible in 3 months, and learn the customs as best as possible…so I don’t accidentally offend people. And I can at least tell someone I don’t speak Kinyarwanda, instead of letting them guess for themselves as I breeze past them.

(Blending in can work to my benefit though – once I learn numbers and how to ask, “How much is this?,” I may get better deals on goods and services than a muzungu might...)

I may sometimes feel invisible, but in reality, I'm not. Whenever I engage in conversation with someone in Ruli, I receive bright smiles, a warm welcome, and Kinyarwanda lessons. And I've been forging new friendships that I'm already beginning to treasure. So, maybe by the time I leave in August, I won’t feel like too much of an outsider.

These children were headed to an outdoor lesson on the basketball court. Most precious sight to see: kids clamoring around someone for a hug or yelling, "Good afternoon!" from across the way.

 

Arriving in Rwanda.

Elisabeth Michel
University of Michigan School of Public Health

I wrote a few posts offline earlier this summer - this first one is from May, just after I arrived in Rwanda.

I am on the continent of Africa.

It feels surreal.

I landed in Kigali on Sunday night (May 15). Members of the TIP team met me at the airport, and we all piled into a car for the final leg of my journey. I did not watch the time closely, but I think it took us around 3 hours – maybe less – to get to Ruli, my new home. Once we left the outskirts of Kigali, we traveled north along a bumpy dirt road, climbing the mountains of this land of a thousand hills. I thanked God for the night. Since it was so dark (there were no lights, except for our headlights and those of passing cars or motorcycles), I couldn’t see how close we were at times to the edge of the mountain. Ignorance is bliss.

Feeling exhausted after spending 22 hours on 3 different planes (not including layovers …).  I tried to get some sleep in the car. Unfortunately, my body constantly bouncing up and down inhibited me from doing much more than closing my eyes and laying my head down. And then sitting right back up when my head started dribbling like a basketball on the headrest.

Regardless of the factors telling me I should be nervous, the driver made me feel confident. Navigating the roads with familiarity, he guided the car around the worst potholes and rocks and kept track of the best places to steer the sedan – making it rev up the mountain as though it were a sports utility vehicle.

This may sound cheesy, but truly he reminded me of leadership and problem-solving. Like a leader, he maintained control of the vehicle, bore the responsibility for bringing a group of people to their destination, and he had to navigate the difficulties and challenges before him. At times I wanted to tell him to stop intentionally driving closer to the edge of the road (read: mountain). Obviously though, this man knew the road well and how to safely get us to Ruli. I – a passenger and foreigner – had nothing to add.

Thinking about how I had no option but to trust this man, I started drawing a parallel between being in the car and my presence in Rwanda for 3 months. I came to work with The Ihangane Project in facilitating a leadership retreat for department heads and administrators of a specialty hospital in Ruli. During the retreat, participants will learn a problem-solving framework to solve key issues within their departments. After the retreat, I will provide support as the department heads implement solutions to these key issues.

As my eyes scanned the dark silhouettes of mountains in the distance, I began asking myself - what will I have to offer? I’m a student in my mid-twenties from a completely different country. Yes, I have a wealth of skills, experience, and knowledge. But who am I to waltz into a room for a week and tell high-level leaders (significantly older than me) how to solve problems at a hospital? A place where some have worked for years?

I refuse to be one of those, “I’m from the United States and I know what to do, so be quiet and listen” types of international consultants/interns/travelers. There are enough of them in the world (incurring damage…) – I don’t need to add myself to their number.

But I also don’t won't plop myself in a corner and keep my mouth shut for fear of overstepping, offending, or “speaking out of turn.” I don’t know how this fellowship will turn out. I will, however, learn as much as possible and give whatever I can that is relevant to the situations in which I find myself, at work or in the community.

And I intend to soak in the sun and enjoy these Rwandan hills – at a safe distance from the edges.

 

A New Approach to Development for Farmers in Peru



Carissa De Young

University of Michigan Ross School of Business and SNRE

 

This summer I am interning in Lima, Peru at Shared-X, an impact investing company that purchases farms in developing countries and then works with small farmers in surrounding communities to deploy advanced farming techniques and to secure contracts to sell their harvest at a fair price. Shared-X focuses on premium crops like specialty coffee, organic bananas, and aromatic cocoa, which receive a higher, more stable price because of product quality. This shields farmers from the risk of selling in volatile commodity markets where the price might vary wildly from year to year. Likewise, the use of innovative cultivation technology allows farmers not only to ensure the quality of their crops but also to increase yields. That combination of higher yields and stable contracts at higher price points results in farmers receiving a better income at the end of the harvest season.

At a Shared-X organic banana farm in northern Peru

Shared-X’s model for lifting thousands of farmers out of poverty is a break from most approaches I have seen in international development. Before I started my first year as a dual MBA/MS candidate studying sustainable enterprise at the University of Michigan, I spent five years working in economic development in Latin America. Most of the organizations I met either served as intermediaries – buying from farmers at a fair trade price premium, or service providers – offering one-off assistance with elements of the all-necessary trifecta of knowledge, tools, and capital.

However, both intermediaries and service providers seemed to fall short of having a lasting, large-scale impact, regardless of whether they were classified as government initiatives, nonprofits, or large agribusiness CSR programs. The intermediaries depended on farmers remaining poor. Once a farmer surpassed the level that would justify labeling her product as “fair trade,” she often had to “graduate” from the program. Buyers in developing countries were willing to pay more to help someone at the bottom at the socioeconomic scale, but not to help someone who had achieved middle income status.

Service providers, on the other hand, often focused on short-term progress. Once a class was taught, some equipment was delivered, or a microloan was paid off, the connection ended. Despite their best intentions, many service providers could not offer the range of services farmers needed to continue growing. In other cases, the funding ended after a grant cycle. Program facilitators offered the service, collected metrics of some measure of progress, and then moved on to their next region of research.

Shared-X’s difference is that it enters into a long-term partnership with farmers. By growing crops in the same region, Shared-X faces the same challenges of crop pests and infrastructure failures. This creates an impetus to search for ways to increase plant health and to bring more government resources to the region. Likewise, Shared-X markets and sells its harvest alongside that of its partners. When negotiating sale prices for small farmers, Shared-X isn’t just doing a favor for the farmers. It is negotiating for its own interest as well, leading to more care and concern for both short-term and long-term sales strategies.

As Shared-X celebrates its first year in business later this month, it draws on over a decade of work developing this model on the farms that were the forerunners of the Shared-X business today. There is a sense of anticipation as the company readies itself to expand into new areas. This model has been tested in Peru and has changed the lives of many coffee farmers, but as the model is fully deployed in other regions and other crops, it could have a multiplier effect, providing small farmers with true partners to work together toward long-term, sustainable growth.

Coffee fields at Finca Matapalo, one of the forerunners of Shared-X