One Click to a Meaningful Mother’s Day Gift

BOMA’s “We Believe in Mothers” crowd-funding campaign is off to a supersonic start. Thanks to 94 BOMA believers, we raised almost $11,500 in the first five days. That’s 76% of our $15,000 goal.

Now the push is on for 100% at the same fast pace.

Everyone who donates on or before 6 p.m. EST this Sunday, May 12—Mother’s Day—will receive a special “We Believe in Mothers” card via e-mail to print out or forward. We won’t be offering the card after Sunday, so now’s your chance to give a gift…to your own mom and to mothers in Northern Kenya.

• Please watch our short animated video and give: http://bit.ly/SupportBOMA
• Help us find new donors by sending this link far and wide through e-mail, Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

For a basic start-up cost of $250, BOMA can launch a small business in Northern Kenya that supports three women and fifteen children. That’s a pretty meaningful Mother’s Day gift.

Please help us reach our goal…and honor your own mother at the same time.

PS: Here’s what one mother in Northern Kenya says about BOMA: “My children were starving, but now they have food to eat. No project has ever given us hope like this one.” 

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Women in Africa Lean In

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BOMA 2012 Annual Report

2012 was a watershed year for The BOMA Project. We refined our cornerstone program, the Rural Entrepreneur Access Project (REAP), as an innovative two-year poverty graduation program. We launched 420 new micro-enterprises across Northern Kenya, including 40 in Samburu District, a new region of expansion. We fully integrated micro-savings into the REAP model, with a ten-part training curriculum for participants and 94% of new business groups choosing to join. We completed a comprehensive impact evaluation survey, established BOMA as a registered Kenya NGO, and transitioned from part-time mentors to a team of 17 full-time Mentors. We hired a field officer, won our first government contract, and customized Salesforce software to efficiently manage REAP baseline and impact data. Are we exhausted? Nope. We’re moving through 2013 with optimism, energy and gratitude. To read our 2012 annual report, click here.

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BOMA in the Congressional Record

U.S. Senator Patrick Leahy (D-Vermont) entered a statement into the Congressional Record on March 21 that included a great mention of BOMA as a Vermont nonprofit with a “far-reaching contribution” that’s “doing innovative work to improve the lives of people overseas.” We’re grateful to Senator Leahy for this recognition, which also included  a copy of a recent Associated Press article by Vermont journalist Wilson Ring. Click on the link to read the full statement from the Congressional Record.

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Vote for Maria: Help BOMA raise $10,000

Vote for Maria!

Vote for Maria: Help BOMA Win $10,000!

Maria Grazia Khoyan, a Village Mentor for The BOMA Project in Kenya, is a finalist for a $10,000 award from Students Rebuild and Half the Sky.

Voting is underway online through Friday, March 8 at http://bit.ly/voteformaria.

Maria is a young, educated mother from the village of Archer’s Post who joined BOMA as a full-time mentor in January 2012. Since then, she has helped to launch 40 small businesses in her village, changing the lives of 120 women. Maria has also become an effective advocate for education, successfully encouraging the women she works with to send their children to school.

 “I am happy and proud of the change that I have brought to my community,” says Maria. “My people are prospering and my community is moving out of poverty.”

One $10,000 winner will be named from each of five countries, including Kenya. In addition to online voting, the judging panel includes America Ferrera, Olivia Wilde, Eileen Fisher, Jeffrey Sachs, Zainab Salbi, Sheryl WuDunn, Maggie Doyne and campus ambassador Shomira Sanyal of India. The winners will be announced on March 12.

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The Solar Generation

“Mama Rungu, I am worried about you,” Neiboticho Wambille told me. “I have some sour milk for you; you must drink some.”

“Acho olang, Neiboticho, I am fine. Just very hot.”

I was sitting with Neiboticho and her business partners under the shade of a small acacia. They proudly told me about the substantial monthly deposits in their savings box. It was a remarkable achievement since they only started saving after the training program in October. I had come to visit with Neibotochio because I wanted to ask her about what she had said at that meeting.

Kura had told me about Neiboticho – he was so inspired by her comments that he had called me on the satellite phone the night after the training. “Mama Rungu, there was this old woman, and during the training she stood up and said something really amazing to the rest of the group.”

David duChemin’s incredible photos capture the lively spirit of Neiboticho Wambille.

She said, “We Rendille, we have forgotten how to save.  A long time ago we would save part of the goat leg for the times when there was drought, or when we would have little to eat. Then we would make soup and our children would not starve.  Now that we are more modern, we have forgotten the old ways. BOMA has come to remind us of what we used to know. We must save for the times when life is hard.”

Everyone was very inspired by Neiboticho’s words and it was wonderful to hear her repeat them. As the sun blazed down through the leaves of the acacia tree, more people joined us, including some of the younger BOMA business women. Neiboticho kept talking: “This younger generation, they do not remember the old ways. Now they do everything quickly. They are the solar generation.”

I looked at Kura, “Solar generation?” I did not see any solar products in the village.

“She means all the shiny things that the young women put on their clothes and beads,” Kura told me. It was true; one of the young women had shiny metal discs hanging from her beaded necklaces. She had on a goat skin skirt, but her shirt was a gold fabric with shiny flat beads that made the shirt shimmer in the bright African light.

I asked the young woman, Khona Wambille, what she thought about the fact that the Rendille were not as nomadic anymore.

“The main reason the older people know about the goat leg is because they were living far from everything.  They used to rely on goat legs and milk.

“Now we have settled near a town and we can buy food. We can also get relief food when there is drought. Things are more modern near the town – it has water so that we do not have to walk long distances. Our children can go to school. It is also safer in town. When we were nomadic we lived by ourselves – each clan had their own area – and we were far from town. Then there were attacks by the Gabbra and I remember a time when they killed a child and an elder. Then we all ran away. Some ran to Korr and some came to Kargi.”

“Since that time we have been here.”

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Hot Nights and the Witch Doctor

We left the village of Merrille feeling good about our new Mentor, Christopher Lepaati Meselin.  Engaged and passionate about his work, Christopher covers a large territory and shares our commitment to reach out to the women in the outlying nomadic villages, where there are deep pockets of extreme poverty. Some days Christopher walks 4 to 5 hours each way to enroll new women in our program, to mentor existing businesses or to deliver training programs. I was sorry that we only had time to visit with some of the new businesses in the main village, as we had a long day of travel ahead of us, but our visit with Christopher reaffirmed my belief that the success of each business we launch is directly related to the commitment of our BOMA Mentors.

 

As we departed Merrille, Kura asked if we wanted to visit with the local witch doctor. When we were planning this trip with David and Corwin, it included David’s return visit to his adopted Rendille village of Ongeli and to a woman, Ntoijoni Ngosoni, who had identified him as her own. Kura had received information that Ntoijoni was quite sick and was staying with the witch doctor in Merrille.  She had now returned home to prepare for David’s visit, but Kura felt it was important that we stop by and pay our respects to Lkanikis Leaduma, who is officially referred to as the Laibon, a healer.

 

As we drove through the sand and acacia trees adjacent to a dry riverbed, we could see the Laibon’s village on the other side. Kura skillfully drove Gumps over the large, sharp rocks – the only route to the Laibon’s home. We pulled into a semi-circle of buildings that consisted of a building and an adjacent large hut for the Laibon that looked out upon a random collection of older huts, most in a state of disrepair. The huts looked temporary and were clearly not built with the same skill as traditional Ariaal or Samburu huts. The patients were mostly older men who were seated on small stools or stood tall and thin, leaning against the trunks of spindly trees that provided little shade. It was a hot and sad place.

The Laibon greeted us warmly and invited us inside his hut for a visit. It was hotter inside the hut than outside. Kura and I sat on the bed with the Laibon, who brought out a package of pictures. I was surprised to see a picture of a book that I had received just days before I left for Kenya. Our Laibon had a long family relationship with Dr. Elliot Fratkin, Smith College professor of anthropology and author of one of BOMA’s most important reference books, As Pastoralists Settle.

We asked about the patients, and the health of Ntoijoni. The Laibon told us that he was not able to do much for her. Every day he put herbs on her legs and chest to bring out the ailment, but she continued to waste away. While Ntoijoni’s condition was different, it was obvious that many of the male patients were HIV positive and this was a last stop for them. We left the hut, but the Laibon called Kura and I back to sit on his bed. He told us that many of the patients were too poor to pay him anything and he also had to feed everyone. He asked if I could make a donation to help him in his work and I pulled out some shillings from my bag. The Laibon quickly put the money in his kikoy and then took my hand in his, rotating my palm back and forth and then he spit on my palm. With his other hand he made some signs in the air, bestowing on me special blessings.

We arrived at the Isgargaro campsite late in the afternoon. Despite our reservation (strictly an idea in Northern Kenya), a group of CARE surveyors had taken most of the huts. There was enough room for a few of us, and the rest of the staff would have to use our one tent. Omar started boiling water for tea as we negotiated with the women who run the camp. Eventually additional space was found and we settled into the dark of the night. This used to be one of my favorite places to stay but the beds, made of lashed and old mattresses, are slowly sinking into the rough dirt floors, thanks to the munching of termites. I dreaded the trip to the latrine that was crawling with hundreds of cockroaches.

Omar cooked a meal of goat stew, cabbage, carrots and rice. Semeji went into the village and found a few Tuskers for David and Corwin. The air was still and hot and the Tuskers hotter. “I’ve never burned my lips drinking a Tusker beer before,” Corwin said.

It had been a long day and I returned to my hut to try to sleep. A basin of water was waiting for me and I dipped a long scarf in the cool water. I lay down on my bed and draped the cool wet scarf over me. In the morning the scarf was dry and my sheets were soaked with the sweat of a hot sleepless night.

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We Will Educate

The rainy season is the most dangerous time, the women of the Nkilepu business group told me. I didn’t understand. The rainy season is what everyone hopes for. It brings accessible fresh water; the grasses start to grow and the cows and goats are once again healthy and strong. The females become pregnant and have more cows and goats, increasing the wealth of every family.

The business partners of the Nkilepu business group in the village of Ndikir.

“It is because of the warriors and the shifta,” they told me. “Our village is remote – over five hours walk to Laisamis village where we buy the stock for our business. In the rainy season the bandits can survive for long periods of time when there is water in the bush. For us, it is very dangerous. They attack us, stealing our stock and worse.”

I turned to Meshack, BOMA’s field officer, and remarked that we keep hearing this over and over. The greatest challenge for many of our business groups is access to a larger town where they can buy wholesale goods for their business. When we visit businesses that have easier access, either through proximity, better security or the availability of lorries that can provide rides, then we see much larger and varied stock. But that has not stopped the business groups in the village of Ndikir. Their savings association is just a year old but they have more than 74,600 shillings in savings, plus loans of 12,000 out to members.

“Do you ever loan money to your husbands?” I asked the women.

“No,” Ngusulia Arabolia told me, “We don’t allow them. They never pay us back. We only loan money to women like us who want to educate their children. We all have respect for each other because we all want to educate our children. This is money they are grateful for and we know they will pay us back.”

These women were so committed to education that it had led them to challenge the male elders in their village.  Ngusulia’s face was animated as she told me about a recent incident when the elders of the village took five children out of the local primary school.

“They just removed them from school because the elders know that if the children are educated, they will not follow them.”

So Ngusulia and her business partners made the dangerous walk to Laisamis village and reported the elders to the district education officer. The five elders were put in jail for their efforts.

One of the questions that we often ask ourselves is, “What does it look like to be an economically empowered woman in Northern Kenya?” Sitting in that dark, hot hut, I realized that these women were the face of empowerment. They are committed and determined to educate their children. They take great risks to ensure their economic independence from their husbands. And they are becoming important role models for their daughters.

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Poverty is the Worst Form of Violence

Mahatma Ghandi said “poverty is the worst form of violence.”

That violence manifests itself in Northern Kenya through people who have poor nutrition and a higher risk of disease. They have a lower life expectancy and inadequate access to healthcare. For children it is poor school attendance and limited achievement, and for adults it means recurring disabilities and listening to your hungry children cry themselves to sleep.

In 2005, a census by the Government of Kenya found that 91.7% of individuals in Marsabit District are living below the National Poverty Line, making it the poorest of the 69 districts in Kenya (National Bureau of Statistics 2012). Apply that same demographic to an area the size of New England and you understand the scope of the disaster that we face.

Reversing the trend of poverty can only come through an individual’s ability to acquire new skills and learn adaptive behaviors. Climbing out of poverty is hard work but through resourcefulness and resilience it is possible.

Epori, Aipa and Achukudu, brave BOMA entrepreneurs who are HIV+ and raising their children alone.

Aipa Kiboko has an even greater burden. When her husband found out that she was HIV+ he abandoned her. He has never been tested. Then her sister died of AIDS and she had the additional burden of not only caring for her three children (the youngest is HIV+), but also for her sister’s four children (the youngest is also positive). She told me, “I want all of my children to go to school. And I want them to look good. Now I can buy detergent so that we have clean clothes and I can even buy hair oil for my children.”

As she described her life, Aipa let the tears flow. I asked the group of women what gives them hope. “We want more training,” they told me. “We want to learn more so that we can do more business and improve ourselves.  It is up to us now.”

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The Savings Group and the Wife Beater

Maria Lesiil is the BOMA Village Mentor in the Northern Kenya town of Archers Post. She is beautiful and charismatic and held the attention of more than fifty women for the five full hours of the savings training session. About two hours into the training, the women took a break. Helpers poured milky white tea from large jerrycans into cups that were shared. Then the women were invited to break out into their savings association groups.  Each savings association is comprised of four to five business groups and the women had made their decisions about this important partnership prior to the training. Much of it was based on geography, as many of the women came from villages as far as twenty kilometers away.

BOMA Mentor Maria Lesiil leads a savings training program in Archers Post. The three-lock savings boxes are at her feet.

As I sat making notes I heard one savings group laughing hysterically. Something was obviously very funny. Maria checked in with them and then came over to me to explain: “One of the women in the group is disabled – her leg is very bad, so she limps.  Her husband is a bad person. He always beats her, but he never hits her good leg because he needs her to keep her BOMA business going. One of the other women told her that she must make her husband stop beating her. But she told the women that she could not, because her husband is too big and too mean and he drinks. Then one of the other women told her that “We are a group now. We will chase him off. He is not bigger than all of us.” And the women laughed and laughed at the thought of them all chasing this mean bully away from his house.

The day ended in song – a song of prayer and blessing. The women came forward to Kura and me in pairs, dipping their heads towards us with the call of “Supa!”

As we made our way to the vehicle, Senteyo Lenayasa came from the building across the dirt path to meet us. She also had a BOMA business in the village of Unity, and one of her business partners was in the hospital. “Do you mind if we come visit her?” asked Kura.  “Not at all. She is feeling poorly, but I know she would like to see Kura and Mama Rungu.”  We walked over to the Catholic mission hospital and visited with Nchekiyo Lembwakita.  She lay on a nylon covered mattress with a nylon pillow under her head. A mosquito net hung above her head. Deep circles ringed her eyes and her face was gray.

“Pole,” I told her, “Sorry you are not well.” Senteyo told us that she had a pain in her abdomen, and that if it were not for this business she would not be able to come to the hospital. I sat with Nchekiyo and held her hand. She smiled weakly. While I am sorry for her suffering, this is also a picture of success: being able to receive medical treatment for when you are sick, instead of waiting until it gets more serious.

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