Small Business Adviser

The biggest mystery in the Peace Corps is its job description. Nobody actually knows what a Peace Corps Volunteer does, or what he or she is supposed to do. Often this applies to the serving volunteer himself, even as he is in the field. Before coming to the Peace Corps they had given us a pamphlet to read on what to expect as a volunteer, and from that I had it in my mind that I would be traversing dangerous wilderness, where I would stop by and visit mud-hut to mud-hut, drinking ceremoniously from a buffalo's horn while teaching people basic business skills and economics. I figured that I would be welcomed with open arms by everyone, and the knowledge I imparted would be immediately received and automatically life-changing. The description was literally that vague.

During our pre-service training we were all taught to memorize a phrase in Swahili that identifies what we are supposed to do as volunteers. The phrase goes, “Mimi ni mshauri wa biashara ndogo ndogo” which means “I am a small business adviser.” I remember how impossible it was to remember all of that at once, how foreign it felt in my mouth when I spoke it, and how I did not even know the meaning of the actual words. It was symbolic even, representing how little I knew about how I was actually going to spend the next two years of my life.

We repeated them countless times during pre-service training, so when we got out to our work sites it would be the first thing that would spout out of our mouths. We were adequately warned that people will see us as donors who bring money and start projects. That is why we put extra stress on the word “adviser.”

I have spent more than a year and a half in my site. In that time, I have taught computer skills to multiple people, facilitated guitar and piano lessons, taught bead making, made charcoal, started a table tennis team, organized a trash clean-up, made sanitary pads, and promoted gender equality. Although many of these activities are good, none of them had anything to do with being a business adviser.

A short while back, I met with a women's group which takes loans to pay for school fees. The problem with this group is that they have trouble paying the 20% interest rate on their loans, and paying for school fees is not exactly a good way to use a loan. I started out speaking slowly, introducing myself in Swahili and then continuing. We discussed the business of making food for selling like a restaurant would, the general concept of how money from a loan must be used to make more money, how much one will have to put into a savings box per day in order to have enough money to pay the loan at the end of the month, and what kind of business activities might be suitable for earning income. I pleaded with them to invest in rain gutters and tanks, and they asked me a great deal of questions about their loans. At the end of the session, they smiled and thanked me profusely for my time. None of them asked me for money.

I left feeling satisfied completely. After more than a year, I finally did the very thing I was expecting to do. I could now live up to the title I was forced to memorize, and could claim that now it was true. I am a small business adviser.

A Dollar A Day

One dollar per day. By the United Nation's standard, those who live with less than a dollar per day are classified as living in “extreme poverty.” I remember learning about statistics such as these during my undergraduate studies, and I always thought to myself, “How could anyone live on one dollar per day?'” It sounded impossible, especially because I had no gauge to compare it to besides the expensive standard of U.S. living.

Now, I am living in a developing country. What a perfect opportunity for me to gain perspective on this seemingly unfathomable statistic. What is it like to live on one dollar per day? I decided that the best way to find out is to try it for myself.

So here was the plan: Twenty seven full days, February 7th to March 6th,, to live off of one dollar per day.

Here were the rules I outlined: I had 80 Kenyan shillings per day, just under the current exchange rate of 83.5 Kenyan shillings to the dollar. This would have to account for everything: food, travel, washing materials, etc. Also, if I were to accept something given to me for free, I would have to count it in my running total.

But I gave myself some amenities: sunscreen, work related internet/electricity, and rain-harvested water were all free. Also, my malaria medicine I counted as free. Here are the justifications - for the sunscreen: I decided that it wasn't worth risking unnecessary skin damage for this (If I had included sunscreen, I would have stayed indoors during the day). For the work-related internet/electricity: because I would have been useless for the month. For the rainwater: it is minimal cost and difficult to account for. For the malaria medicine: because if I stop taking those and Peace Corps finds out, I get sent home (I also might get malaria).

As much as I love challenges, the night before I was almost afraid of what was to come. Although I did not eat an exorbitant amount that night, I noticed a few things I ate which I knew I wouldn't be able to afford: chocolate, American candies, oats, and even bread. I wondered if it was going to be like holding your breath underwater, where it would get slightly more and more uncomfortable until coming up for air again. Or maybe I would just get used to it, perhaps enjoy it?

The first few days I was excited about the restriction. I proudly ate my banana in the morning (4pennies or 3kenyan shillings) and held out until a large dinner in the evenings. When I would politely refuse things from people, I would be obliged to explain what I was doing in order to exculpate my apparent rudeness. Conversations would go something like this:

Friend: Hey Louis! Welcome in for a cup of tea!
Me: I can't today, thanks though.
Friend: How come?
Me: I am trying to use less than 80 shillings per day.
Friend: Why?
Me: So I can understand what it is like.
Friend: Okay, well don't worry, the tea is free.
Me: Even if I accept free things, I have to count it.
Friend: Eh?

During the market days, I would purchase much less than I usually do, and the ladies at the market would ask me why. After telling them that I was on a tight budget for the month, they would look at me sympathetically and then they would give me things for free, which I could not refuse. On two separate occasions, the tomato lady gave me two pounds of tomatoes, and another lady gave me a pound of french beans, just because they felt sorry for me. To be honest, those kind gestures warmed my heart deeply. Two years ago, the ladies in the market would try to rip me off with double the standard price. Now, they give me free things when I am in trouble.

During my challenge, it was mango season. Decent sized angoes were about 3 to 7 U.S. Pennies. Despite my budget restriction, I still managed to have a mango nearly every single day (usually I would have 3 to 4 mangoes a day, going by last year's rate...the mangoes are truly that delicious).

An average day of spending looked something like this:
Breakfast: 2 cups cornmeal (6 pennies), 1 banana (4 pennies)
Drinking water: 3liters (3 pennies)
Dinner: 1 plateful of Ugali (17pennies), 1 plateful kale with onions (20 pennies)
Dessert: 2 bananas (8 pennies), 1 mango (6 pennies), handful of peanuts (8 pennies)
Soap/gas for cooking/toothpaste/etc..: (4 pennies)
Cooking spices, oil.. (3 pennies)

I could not afford the use of shampoo, deodorant, or lotion.

If I got a flat tire on my bike, it would cost 12 pennies to repair. If I used my cell phone for a text message or a 1 minute call, it would cost about two to four pennies. If I did laundry, it would cost at least 25 pennies in washing soap for the load. During this 27-day period I did laundry twice, got 3 flat tires, and sent close to 10 unnecessary text messages on my cell phone.

In January, the prices of nearly all vegetables doubled. As a result, I found myself purchasing the bare minimum. On this current budget, I could no longer afford carrots and tomatoes, it would just be onions and kale for vegetables. And when peeling the onions, I would take twice as long in order to try to maximize the edible amounts, wanting to use every bit.

Most of the meals were the same. I could not afford variety in my foods; I ate the cheapest meal possible (ugali and kale) in order to satisfy my caloric and nutritional requirements. Though, sometimes I caved in to get some variety (assorted vegetables and rice or pasta), though when I did I could not afford enough to satisfy my hunger. As a point of reference, corn flour is about 50 pennies per kilogram, wheat flour is close to double that price. White rice is 75 pennies per kilogram. A 400gram loaf of bread is 60 pennies. Beans are about 85 pennies per kilogram. (1 kilogram = 2.2 lbs) For 24 days out of 27, I had some type of corn flour or whole corn meal. The other three days were pasta, rice, and chapati.

I made it. I was nearly 25 pennies under budget. The day after the ordeal I had a couple pieces of chocolate, a packet of fruit snacks, and half a loaf of bread as a celebration. I've found that under a dollar a day living is not impossible, but it is agonizingly debilitating. Something as simple as food variety is a treat. It is difficult to fathom that some people here have done it all their lives.