Day trip to a "remote" village in Laos

Off the beaten path!  Where is everybody?

 I spent last week in Laos learning about rural electrification.   I spent one day in a rural village to better understand some of the issues on the ground.  The village’s name was Pakhao, in Vang Vieng, home to 78 households and roughly 600 people.

Typically it does not rain from October to May, but the day we went it rained relentlessly.  The dirt road that wound up to the village was slick, and our pudgy van could not quite get the traction to get up the hill.  It was a good reminder of what it means to live in a hard-to-reach area—communication is not something taken for granted.  I hopped in an SUV for the last leg; some of the others in my group had to settle for the back of a pickup truck and umbrellas to block the rain.

Institutions eat interventions for breakfast

This is what a development expert looks like

An article in the new republic has been circulating recently in the global development circles called "Stop trying to save the world--how big ideas are destroying international development." It contains a lot of useful reflections on failures in development and how certain paradigms perpetuate them.  While I agree with his analysis for the most part, I am troubled by his lack of discussion about the importance of local institutions in identifying and scaling effective strategies.

"Everywhere you want to be": what some take for granted but many can't have

Do tip jars still exist in San Francicso?  Bet it's easier to get
tips in cash-based economies like Kathmandu and Dhaka
(photo from Cafe Kora, Kathmandu).

I know some people who essentially use only digital money.  That is, the only thing in their wallet is plastic.  If that's your daily life, it's easy to take it for granted and forget how awesomely convenient it is.

And Americans have it good this way--our cards are accepted almost everywhere.  I should know, I hopped off the plane in Hong Kong, walked up to an ATM, and walked out with a wallet full of Hong Kong dollars.  I bought a boatload (literally) of champagne and other drinks in Chiang Mai at a grocery store, simply by swiping my visa.  The hotel where I'm staying this week asked for a deposit, and I handed them my card again.  Easy as pie.

The Bangladesh government historically has had very strict rules on Bangladeshis taking money abroad, only recently beginning to allow small amounts of international credit card usage (for most people, the annual spending limit internationally is $5,000 and per online transaction it's $100, up to 1,000 annually).  Baby steps.  Online credit card payments WITHIN Bangladesh were only approved in 2009.

Can financial products be designed to provide peace of mind?

Microfinance institutions are lending billions to the poor
each year.  Can they make that money more valuable to
clients simply by redesigning their loans?

 A few months ago I wrote that peace of mind was a first-world luxury.  While I have never seen a study putting a value on it, I think that it’s an important ingredient in development thinking, especially where finances are concerned.

Last week I spoke with the leader of an urban microfinance institution in Dhaka about its clients and their needs: was it mainly credit or savings they were after?  He said,

“When we first talk to them, they ask a lot of questions about credit.  All of them say they want it.  We sign them up for a savings account and after a few months, they get access to credit.  Ultimately only half of them end up using it, but all of them want to know that they can if they want to.”

Which is harder: writing a novel or improving a national legal system?

I had the privilege of seeing Zia Haider Rahman this morning at the 4^th annual Dhaka Hay Festival talking about his recent novel In light of what we know.  Seeing the author of a book that you love is always risky; it’s possible that the book eclipses the person who wrote it, and meeting its creator will actually tarnish it.

But today I got lucky! Zia’s discussion was as thoughtful as his writing.  I loved that his book managed to weave together a story that literally takes you around the world, while exploring class and nationality, while also ambling through many asides, interesting quotes, and other tidbits. And a love story for good measure.  Zia said that he hoped the book made its readers feel uncomfortable—until one feels uncomfortable, it’s hard to get to a place where you see things in a new light.   It did not make me uncomfortable, but it did make me think and brought many thoughts into sharper focus.  For example, at one point, one of the main characters finds himself parachuted into Kabul in the midst of the development frenzy.  His commentary on the American “my rights end where your nose begins” attitude to other cultures, the expat party scene, and general lack of humanity among many aid workers is a section that all development workers should read and consider.

Technology as an empowerment strategy

When I'm not too busy flying around the world (if only it were as glamorous as it seems!), my favorite thing to do is to get out of the office and go see what's happening "in the field," where our staff interact with clients.

One of the recent areas where I've been focused a lot is on technology, and specifically giving our frontline staff technology to either capture information from their interactions or even aid them in providing better services.

There's a constant discussion about whether technology reduces "the human touch" of service delivery.  Anyone who has been to the doctor and felt that he spent more time trying to enter information into the system than actually examine you will understand why this is a risk!
But what I've been hearing recently from several different visits around Bangladesh is that technology is extremely empowering.  Mastering technology builds confidence!

Did you go in the bathroom?

Just seeing the classroom won't give you a
full picture of her education.

For me, one of the hardest parts of living in a developing country is the lack of clean bathrooms.  Especially when I go outside of Dhaka, I limit my fluid intake to avoid the need to use a smelly, dank toilet at a gas station or restaurant.

In any case, one place where I always make a point to visit the bathrooms is when I visit a school.  And not the teachers' bathrooms, which are separate.  I want to see where the students, especially the girls, have to go.  There's plenty of literature that shows that girls' attendance is linked to bathroom availability and quality, especially when they reach the age of menstruation.  And it's no wonder!  Imagine if your child had to come home from school every time he or she needed to pee.  It's more than a little humiliating.