Final Post

First, a quick update on the motorcycle project. So far the financing has gone exceedingly well. 3 months into the 12 month loans we have so far seen a 100% repayment rate from all 10 riders. The Chairman of the riders union very much wants to get a second loan as soon as SMT thinks the pilot has proven itself. Unfortunately, due to the initial delays in getting things up and running, I’ll be leaving Sierra Leone before this happens. However, a Sierra Leonean colleague will be taking over the project and I'm optimistic that in another two months a second round of loans will be extended to a group of new riders.

As my time here comes to a close, I've been thinking about the things that I absolutely love about this country, as well as the things that I just can’t stand. I thought I would share a few of both.

My first (and hopefully last) African Guinness experience.

I dislike… the food. White rice, white bread and mystery meat seem to be the only three food groups here. I’m thoroughly sick of all three. Fortunately, the local beer is decent and cheap and there’s no need to pay twice the price for African Guinness (brewed right here in Sierra Leone). It’s dreadful. Just imagine taking half a pint of Guinness, filling the rest of the bottle up with water, and adding two shots of pure alcohol.

I love… the people. Sierra Leoneans are by far the friendliest people I’ve met in my life. I can't even walk down the street without being greeted by a handful of strangers, and often these greetings turn into 10 minute long conversations on a wide range of topics. Virtually everyone I've met here has been extremely welcoming, and countless strangers have gone out of their way to help me with various problems. It's fantastic!

I dislike… this country’s approach to time management. Nothing has ever happened on time in Sierra Leone, probably because everyone is too busy engaging in their random street conversations to be bothered to actually get to their appointments on time (or at all).

A lazy afternoon spent floating down a river just outside of Makeni. Photo
taken shortly before realizing there were rapids just around the corner.

I love… the expats. While not a large community, I've met a number of awesome people during my time here, and have made some great friends as a result. You know who you are.

I dislike… the transportation infrastructure. Anyone who’s read my previous blog posts is familiar with the challenges I’ve had travelling around this country. I’ll refrain from complaining any further here.

I love… the noise. Sierra Leonean culture is so lively and vibrant. There is always music playing and people singing, dancing or cheering loudly at a football match. Despite the lack of wealth, it’s a very happy and carefree place to be, and the feeling is contagious.

I dislike… the noise. It’s relentless. The music and shouting often doesn't die down until past midnight, and then starts up at 6 am again. One particular morning began with a rooster crowing outside my window at 5:30, someone banging on a steel door at 5:45, and then my neighbours seemingly having a "who has the loudest car" contest at 6am. And none of the stores here sell earplugs...

Old School. No description required.

I love… Old School! A couple blog posts ago I received a few comments from people on the sad shape of my backyard “gym”. Well, that was before I discovered “Old School”, a small gym built by a few young guys in the village here. It’s an old, abandoned and crumbling building with a bed sheet for a door and no roof, but this makeshift gym is hilariously ingenious. The barbells are made out of rebar and concrete and the crude wooden benches are a little wobbly, but entirely useable.

I dislike… stupidly low doorframes. I’m not the tallest guy in the world but the average Sierra Leonean has got to be no more than 5’8. If I had a dollar for every time I cracked my skull on a doorframe I’d probably have enough money to live out the rest of my life here, and I’ve lost count of the number of these occurrences that actually drew blood (likely due to me being concussed).

I love… the fact that it was much easier for me to come up with things I like about this country than it was to come up with things I dislike about it. Sierra Leone has been a challenging place at times, and I’m happy to be heading home, but it was also a phenomenal experience that I will remember for the rest of  my life.

Motorcycle Microfinance

A few of you have inquired about the sudden disappearance of my blog posts. While there are a few reasons for this (including a loss of my faster internet connection and some travelling that I've been doing), this post is definitely worth me braving a now ludicrously slow internet connection to get it online.

You may have noticed by now that my blog thus far has been primarily focussed on my weekend adventures, and has been a little light on details on the whole reason I came to Sierra Leone in the first place: microfinance. While I’ve done what I’d characterize as some consulting work thus far, such as working on a training program for SMT’s finance staff, I found this work to be a little slow so I decided to take some initiative and start my own project. I’ve spent the majority of the last few months working on this idea, but didn’t really want to talk much about until I knew it was actually going to pan out. That time would be now.


The most crowded motorcycle ride of my life.
If we were Sierra Leonean, we’d also have had a
small child perched on the gas tank. 

Almost everywhere I travel in Makeni is by motorcycle taxi. Some foreigners don’t like flying through the streets on the back of an old bike with useless suspension, brakes that may or may not work and no helmet, weaving in and out of traffic on a mix of dirt and paved roads (on a recent trip I hit my elbow on the door mirror of an oncoming car. I’m glad we weren’t travelling six inches further left). All manner of things can be carried on these bikes. Plywood, TVs, an entire family, livestock and 30 foot long pieces of rebar are just a few of the items I’ve seen being transported by ingenious Sierra Leoneans. Having had my bike license for seven years, and having raced motorcycles for two years, I think it’s a brilliant way to get around, not to mention the only affordable method of transport for most of Makeni’s population.

When I first arrived here, I chatted to a few of the guys riding the bikes, and heard almost the same story from each one. Many have completed most or all of their secondary education, and are trying to earn enough money to survive while also saving to further their educations. Others use the money they earn to support themselves and their young families. Some are even former child soldiers, and have the missing limbs to prove it. In all cases, it was clear, even without them disclosing any numbers, that the money they made from the job was limited (a taxi ride usually costs between $0.25 and $0.50) and the hours were long, most working 12 or more hour days, 6 days a week. In hindsight, I can’t believe how long it took me to realize this, but these young, hard working guys with limited resources are the exact type of people I came here to try to help. Could there be a way to use microcredit to somehow improve their lives?

I spent a month researching the idea, taking taxi ride after taxi ride, and grilling the riders on all aspects of their business, such as a typical days’ earnings, working hours, fuel costs, other expenses, etc. Riders were a bit reluctant to disclose details at first (just imagine a stranger walking into your office and asking you how many hours a day you work, how much money you make, what you spend it on, etc.) but once I built up a bit of a rapport, I started to get some meaningful information. By the end of my research, I put together a report with the following conclusion. A typical bike rider collects about $12-14 per day in sales, but after expenses only clears about $2/day. The largest expense that they have? Renting the bike from a local business owner eats up about half of their revenue. Using the data I’d collected from my informal survey, I did the math and worked out that by financing the bike through a microloan, they could immediately increase their daily earnings to $3/day (the combined principal and interest payments on the loan would actually be less than what they’re currently paying to rent a bike for the day), and once the loan was fully repaid, the riders could be earning about $7/day. This means we could more than triple one of these riders’ incomes in less than a year! There was only one problem, and it was a big one. A bike costs about US$1,100, well in excess of the ~$100 we typically loan to a first time borrower. This creates a lot of risk on our part, and was almost a deal killer, but fortunately we came up with a solution.

The Executive Director of SMT suggested I speak to the local motorcycle taxi riders union to see if there was any way they could get involved. A meeting was set up with the Chairman, who, once we explained the concept, I’d characterize as interested but hesitant. We agreed to meet the following week with the entire executive committee of the association. I got to work putting together a pitch.

I presented my idea and proposed a structure whereby the riders union would guarantee all of the loans made to the individual riders. I added a slide on how this would be beneficial to the association as it allows them to really build their standing in the community and be seen as doing some significant good for their members. It would also increase their membership and their own revenue, as more bikes means more riders, which would translate into more union dues. It seemed like a bit of a long shot, but it was the only idea I had. 

Despite my previous griping about how slowly business can move in Sierra Leone, these guys loved the idea and wanted to get started immediately. Negotiations started right there on the spot, and were intense. Just imagine a small room packed with one soft spoken white guy, and 15 screaming Sierra Leoneans. Since I don’t speak Krio or Temne, I had a translator whose primary task, other than translating the actual words I spoke, was to make everything I said sound angrier and more belligerent. He did a fantastic job.

Once negotiations were complete, everyone stopped
shouting for long enough to take this photo. SMT’s
Executive Director is on the far left, while the
union’s Chairman is on the far right. 

Once the dust settled, we had all of the major details of the proposal hammered out in about two hours. We would be making 10 loans (up from our original proposal of 3) as part of a pilot program to individual bike riders who currently rent their motorcycle. In exchange for being given a more prominent role in the process (such as selecting the riders, purchasing the bikes, and collecting payment from each rider), the riders union agreed to guarantee each loan. They also agreed to put up the union’s headquarters as collateral. This meant that including the combined value of the property and the bikes (with the bikes at a conservative 40% discount), we would still be more than 1.6x covered on the loan value.

Following the negotiations, I started drafting all of the legal documents (I'm not a lawyer, but apparently I am qualified to be doing this in Sierra Leone) and application forms, and working with the riders union to get all of the required due diligence items we needed to have before launching the financing (copies of bank statements, land appraisals, riders’ IDs, etc.). For all my lawyer friends out there, I don’t know how you do this on a daily basis. It was painful work but, as all business professionals know, a very important part of the process. It was at this time that the Sierra Leonean business culture that I’m trying very hard to learn to love also reasserted itself. I spent large parts of my days running around re-requesting documents and signatures, for the third or fourth time, from both my own colleagues as well as the members of the riders union. Promises were made and just as quickly forgotten. Proposed timelines were agreed to and then simply ignored, with no communication or explanation as to why. It was unbelievably frustrating, but after nearly four years of investment banking, I’ve seen enough deals fall apart at the last minute that I knew I needed to keep pushing. And so I did, struggling to keep the financing moving forwards at what I felt was a reasonable pace (clearly the Sierra Leoneans and I disagree over the definition of the term "reasonable").


Riders participating in the training program.

As I had quite a bit of down time during this phase of the process, I also set about putting together a simple training program for the riders. My aim with the program was to provide them with and teach them how to use a very basic cash flow forecasting template. This should hopefully allow the riders to track their revenues and costs to ensure that they have sufficient funds on hand each month to make their loan payments, as well as to cover any unexpected repairs or other expenses that might arise.

After what felt like several years (it was actually two months), all of the documentation was in place and it was time to advance the funds. In microfinance, this is normally done by handing out physical cash to the loan recipients at our head office. However, given that the largest bill denomination here is Le 10,000, the Le 47,000,000 loan would have required an actual wheel barrow full of cash. So instead, once the final contracts were signed, the plan was to write the Chairman of the riders union a check for the loan proceeds. As I was sitting at my desk, just hours before the loan proceeds were supposed to be advanced, I was informed that the financing had been be delayed (again) by a week. What? I went to track down the Finance Manager to see what was going on, and the answer I got was ridiculous. Apparently, despite both the Finance Manager and Executive Director having known about this financing for weeks, and both knowing that the funds were going to be advanced today, SMT didn’t have Le 47,000,000. The organization keeps its funds in US$, and it would take five days to convert them to Leons.

After trying very hard (and, I must admit, somewhat unsuccessfully) to hide my frustration, I came up with what I thought was the perfect solution. We could simply advance the funds in US$. The bikes are priced in US$, and the first thing the union was going to do upon receiving the loan proceeds was convert them into US$ anyways. I talked to the Chairman, and he actually preferred to receive US$. Unfortunately, the answer I got from SMT was "no". The explanation? "That’s not how we do things here." Gotta love bureaucracy. An appeal to the Executive Director was met with the same response, leaving me with nothing to do but wait… again.

Finally, a week later, the funds were in place and the check was written. The riders union purchased the bikes (from Guinea, as they’re a lot cheaper there than in Sierra Leone), and the program is now underway.


The Star Sports TVS. This 125cc Indian-made beauty isn’t
quite as well built as a comparable Honda XL, but at less
than a third of the price, it’s the perfect bike for this project.

To sum things up, we’ve now got an innovative loan product making what’s hardly considered a microloan anymore, extended to a group of first time borrowers with no credit history that gives them the chance to more than triple their $2 / day income in less than a year by doing the exact same job for the exact same number of hours that they would be doing anyway. And all with minimal risk to us as a creditor. Already we’ve been contacted by other regional riders associations asking if they can participate in a similar project. While we need to run with the pilot for a few months to make sure everything runs smoothly before extending too much credit into this space too quickly, I’m proud of what we've accomplished so far, and excited about the potential that this program has.

 

Mount Bintumani

I’m not sure what “Bintumani” translates into in English, but I think it’s something like “I’m never doing that again. Ever”. I made a last minute decision to climb Sierra Leone’s highest peak, and while it was one of the more rewarding experiences of my life, it was also one of the most challenging, both mentally and physically.

Mount Bintumani in the background.
Is that really within walking distance?

According to the Bradt Sierra Leone guide book “Mount Bintumani is the highest point in west Africa (well, west of Mount Cameroon)”. So I guess that makes it the second highest peak in west Africa? Dubious claims about its importance in west African topography aside, at just under 2000 meters Bintumani is definitely at least the tallest mountain in Sierra Leone. To put that in perspective, it’s just shy of Whistler's 2180 meter peak.

As an avid outdoorsman, I couldn’t leave the country without having conquered it. Skimming through the guide book the day before my trip, I discovered that this was going to present a few unique challenges. Firstly, the guide book had several sample itineraries, ranging from 4-6 days, including travel time. With limited time off to make the trek, I allotted 3 days.

Secondly, not having planned for a trip like this before I left Canada, I didn’t bring anything in the way of camping gear with me. Before departing, I went through a mental checklist of the things I would normally take on this kind of trip, and compared it to what I actually had with me:

• Hiking boots – Running shoes
• Layered hiking clothes – Shorts and a t-shirt
• Overnight backpack – A small, relatively flimsy backpack that I used in university
• Water purification tablets – Negative. This meant my strategy was to pack as much water as I could carry (about 7 litres, which on its own weighs close to 20 pounds) in my bag, and then roll the dice on water from mountain streams if I needed any more (I would)
• Proper food, power bars, etc. – A kilo of uncooked rice, a couple loaves of bread, and a mars bar that I bought from a street vendor
• Tent – An old hoodie and the bed sheet from my house (this was definitely my biggest concern)
• Proper wool hiking socks – YES! I’d actually packed a pair of Wigwams, the best pair of outdoor activity socks I’ve ever used in my life. A little bit pricey at about $15 / pair, but well worth the investment

The guide book also had a few other gems of advice that I thought were worth sharing:

• "Trying to manage an ascent in the rainy season approaches madness" – Clearly, I am.



One of the few spots on the road to Sinecoro
 smooth enough to take a photo. 

• "Only the keenest, sturdiest and most pig-headed of visitors would carry their own kit, food and water. It's easy to arrange for a porter." – Those that know me well probably already know what I opted to do.

Now for the story. Wanting to get as much of a head start as possible, I left work, grabbed my bag and headed straight to Lorry Park, where I caught a shared taxi to the town of Kabala. I arrived shortly after dark (ahead of schedule) and made arrangements for a motorcycle taxi to drive me to the village of Sinecoro (a small village located at the foot of Bintumani) at 8am the next morning (the road to Bintumani is 55 miles of some of the roughest terrain I ever been through. Only a bike or a very hard core 4x4 would be able to make the trip, and the cost of renting a Land Rover or Land Cruiser for three days was prohibitively expensive). I then checked into a local guesthouse, grabbed some food and watched a football (soccer) match at the bar, and wandered through the night markets for a bit before getting to bed early. Compared to my earlier adventures, I couldn’t help but be pleased with myself for how well this was going. With the benefit of hindsight, I now know that this was the calm before the storm.

With this river being over three feet deep,
it was time to carry on on foot.

The bike driver did show up the next day, two hours late (he’d had a funeral to attend. I’m still curious as to why this wasn’t mentioned the day before). Re-negotiating the price took another 20 minutes, after which I got on the bike are we were off! For about 5 minutes. My driver decided he had worn the wrong pants for the weekend so we had to stop by his house for him to get changed. Then we needed to get fuel. Then he realized his rear tire was flat, so another stop. By the time we were actually on the road to Bintumani, it was almost 11.

The next 45 miles of the journey were fantastic! Not even the relentless heat could ruin my mood. We drove past some truly stunning scenery, and each subsequent village became more and more rural. The tin roofed building of Kabala gave way to mud huts with grass roofs, rolling hills and thousands and thousands of mango trees. And the trip was just as enjoyable for the locals as it was for me. At home in Makeni, kids regularly approach me screaming “Apoto” (“White Man”) and try to get high fives, while older Sierra Leoneans inundate me with friend requests, and phone calls at all hours of the day. While I’m a B-list celebrity at home, in these villages I’m an absolute rock star. Each village we passed through brought out a wide assortment of people, young and old, to cheer us on as we drove through. I felt like I should have been waving from the back of a limo in a large motorcade, rather than the back seat of an uncomfortable bike worth no more than US$1,000.

Leaving the village before dawn with my guide.
Let's get 'er done!

As mentioned before, the road to Bintumani is really rough, and we crashed twice along the way (once at nearly a dead stop, while the second crash was at about 20 km/h and left a few scrapes and bruises). Then, at mile 45, it all fell apart. We arrived at a river crossing that, the week prior, had been up to my driver’s ankles. The water was now deeper than my waste, and there was no way we could get the bike across. The only option was to retreat back to the previous village, pay the chief to allow us to store the bike there for a couple days, and walk the remaining 10 miles on foot.

By the time we arrived in Sinecoro, it was nearing dark and I couldn’t find a guide willing to take me up the mountain until the next day. This left me with an interesting problem, as I had to be back at work on Monday. I asked the guide if I could climb the mountain in a day. My driver translated his reply. “Impossible.” I’d heard that a person of average fitness could do the climb in about 15 hours over two days, so I wasn’t yet ready to take no for an answer. I asked again, but again was told that it couldn’t be done.

The view from base camp.
Already above the clouds, with a long way still to go.

At this point, I tried a different approach. The guide I was taking to was old enough to be my dad (no disrespect intended to my father, who’s in great shape for someone approaching 60, but he won’t be breaking any land speed records any time soon). I managed to track down a younger guide, and made the following arrangement. We’d leave at 5am the next day, hike to the base camp, leave all our gear there, and hike the rest of the day carrying nothing but a water bottle and a few snacks. Hopefully we’d make it back to base camp with enough daylight to get back to the village, but if not, we’d make camp and finish the descent the next day. I got ready for bed while ignoring the older guide and my driver as they reiterated that my planned climb was impossible. I eventually found their persistence to be a bit comical. Could I really be the first stubborn Dutchman this little village had ever come across?

Interestingly, before leaving, I did get one piece of advice from my driver. “You need to take some of those drugs that all you Americans and Canadians have. You know, the ones that give you so much energy.” Clearly, Lance Armstrong’s reputation has made it even as far as remote villages in the jungle of Sierra Leone.

The summit is in sight!

5am came far too soon the next day, but my guide was nowhere to be seen. I spoke with the chief, who managed to find the guide fast asleep, still in bed. Within 15 minutes, however, the guide was wide awake, grabbed his gun, and we were on the trail before 5:30. By Sierra Leonean standards, this was absolutely early. Thus far into the trip, I’m feeling pretty good. That feeling lasted for about 30 minutes. The hike up Bintumani starts off with a relatively flat walk through a swamp land that lulls you into a false sense of security. Despite our aggressive walking pace, I couldn’t help but think “this isn’t so bad”. Then we hit the hills.

The hike to base camp can only be described as gruelling. Nobody in Sierra Leone has any clue what a switchback is. Whoever built this “trail” must have just taken a compass, aimed it at the mountain’s peak, and headed straight for it. An hour into the hike and I was absolutely exhausted. At one point, I literally had to pick a spot no more than 4-5 meters down the trail, hike/climb there, rest for 30 seconds, and repeat. This went on for two hours, as I struggled to keep up with my chain smoking guide (he’d actually smoked an entire pack of cigarettes by the time we made it to base camp. The man was insane!). My legs were shaking, I was starting to get serious tunnel vision whenever I stopped to catch my breath, and in several instances actually had to hold myself up using a low hanging tree for support, as my legs didn’t have the strength to support me. Not one to admit defeat easily, I seriously considered giving up at this point. 

The final ascent. It's steeper than it looks...

And then it occurred to me. Given the limited availability of food in these parts, I hadn’t eaten anything in more than 14 hours. I opened up my bag, downed a granola bar I’d packed with me, and struggled on, feeling slightly better. 

30 minutes later, I stumbled into the open field that was base camp. The first part of the challenge complete, I sunk to my knees and devoured the bread I’d brought along for breakfast. Half way through my meal, I noticed my guide with no food or water. Crap! The expectation that I pack (and carry) enough food and water for the both of us had somehow been lost in translation. I surrendered half of my food and water, grabbed a couple of water bottles, and left the rest of our gear at camp. Though still starving, I was feeling a lot better. Time to get this over with.

The rest of the hike was slightly less unpleasant. The incline reduced from roughly 89.9 degrees to something a bit more manageable, but we still had a blistering pace to maintain. Yet, after a 3 hour speed hike that is mostly a blur in my memory, we were within sight of the summit! 


Now at about 1800 meters and with thinning air, my guide’s habitual smoking started to catch up to him. I almost had to carry him up the last section of the climb, but we managed to make the summit, and right on time too! Despite the time constraint, I sat down and enjoyed what was the most delicious half of a mars bar I’d had in my entire life. We took 20 minutes to enjoy the view and take a few photos, but then it was time to descend.  

The summit. You can just see Sinecoro
(a tiny silver speck) in the distance.

The difficult part of the hike now over, I was finally able to enjoy the beautiful scenery that Bintumani had to offer. The plains and landscape at the mid point of the hike are just incredible. We saw several deer and a herd of buffalo. Apart from a 30 minute detour for my guide turned hunter to attempt to shoot a deer with a shotgun (I assume he was firing slugs, but it still seemed like the wrong tool for the job. He missed all three shots.), the rest of the hike was relatively uneventful. After a 15 minute stop at base camp on the way back, we carried on, and made it back to the village just before dark!

Just look at that happy man.

The village kids welcome back the crazy white man.

Needless to say, my driver was shocked to see me, and what seemed like every kid in the village turned up to say hi and have their photo taken with the crazy white man. After the photo op, I collapsed, exhausted, on a bench in front of one of the village huts. My driver brought me a pineapple he’d bought, which I consumed in about 3 seconds. Then he broke the bad news. We still had a 10 mile hike back to the village where we’d left the bike, that we had to do that night so as to get an early enough start the next morning. I was too tired to argue, so before long we were off. We made the next village well after dark, and by the time I made it to bed had developed a really bad cough and a pretty serious fever. The next day consisted of about 8 hours in motorcycle and shared taxis to get back to Makeni, but given my physical condition, the time flew by as I was barely awake for any of it (this despite the fact that when I got to the shared taxi, our 5 passenger sedan had 11 people crammed into it at one point. A new record for me on this trip). Sunday night came and I was home and, despite the challenges, I’d accomplished what I set out to do. There’s no greater feeling in the world.

As for the socks, they performed admirably well. I finished the hike with only a few small blisters, which wasn’t bad considering the running shoes I spent 18 hours hiking in were probably designed to be worn for no more than two.

Kalie and his water distribution business.

One last thing. Given we had an unplanned 20 mile walk together, my bike driver and I had quite a bit of time to talk, and I found out he actually used to be a client of SMT. Kalie used a microfinance loan to start a water distribution business (he buys bagged water in bulk from Freetown, and then redistributes it from his store front in Kabala at a small profit). Given that the margins on this business are quite small, Kalie took out two subsequent microloans in order to increase his shipment size and capitalize on economies of scale, and now has a profitable, debt free business that supports him, his wife and his child when he’s not off facilitating mountain climbing adventures. And he’s managed to do all this despite not even being literate. While I don’t hold microfinance up as a one size fits all solution to developing world problems, it is clear to me that it’s doing its part in improving some of the lives of those less fortunate than ourselves.

A little less adventure. A little more microfinance.

I’ll try to touch on some of the specifics of the projects I’m working on here in my next blog post, but I thought I’d first start off with an introduction to microfinance and the microfinance institute (MFI) that I’m volunteering with here, Salone Microfinance Trust (SMT).

Dr. White manning the counter at his pharmacy, which
he finances with loans from SMT.

Most MFIs are non-profits that operate using a business model that simply covers their costs. However, because they make so many small loans, the administration and monitoring costs for these portfolios are actually quite high. As a result, interest rates can be as high as 2.5-3.0% PER MONTH. Once you factor in a developing world inflation rate of 10-15%, this still works out to a real interest rate of around 15% per year; similar to what you would pay on a credit card in Canada. At first glance, this doesn’t seem like the most effective way for a business to borrow money, but keep in mind that these borrowers typically have no credit history whatsoever, so they don’t have access to traditional sources of financing. Also, unlike a credit card, microfinance loans cannot be used for consumption. Borrowers must prove that the loan proceeds are going to be used for their business. Once the loan is paid off (typically in 6-10 months), the cash flow that was previously going to service the loan and it’s large interest rate now becomes cash that goes straight to the business owner’s pocket. This teaches SMT’s clients financial discipline, so that once the loan is repaid, they’re suddenly faced with a 30% or larger increase in cash flow that they can use to improve their living conditions, improve their diet, send their kids to school, etc. Interestingly, not a single one of the borrowers I’ve spoken with has mentioned anything about the interest rates being onerous. It’s simply a cost of doing business in the developing world.

Alpha has used several SMT loans to finance his two
shops, and a small distribution warehouse.

Since arriving, I’ve had the opportunity to meet and speak with a number of SMT clients. Many are shop owners that have used the loans to increase their inventory levels to drive increased sales. One shop owner I spoke to used his first loan from SMT to expand his existing store, then later used cash flow from that shop and a second loan to start a second store. A year later, a third loan and cash flow from his two existing stores allowed him to open a small warehouse that he now uses to sell bulk goods to his own shops, as well as to many of the other smaller stores in town. The combined businesses now provide more than enough cash flow to support his family and put his kids through school, and his expansion plans are far from complete. While obviously not every microloan is this successful, this is the exact type of person microfinance was designed to help. Someone with a good work ethic. Someone who was born into a life with limited resources, and just needs a small opportunity to build a better life for themselves and their family. And stories like this are extremely common, with upwards of 80% of microfinance clients returning for additional funds once their first loan is paid off, as they continually work to grow their businesses.

With orientation complete, I’m starting to get my first impressions of working in Sierra Leone. The staff here are all pretty motivated (though nowhere near North American standards, particularly those in Investment Banking). That said, working here can be frustrating at times. Everyone operates on “African Time”. Simple requests, such as a quick download from a database, can take hours. And I have yet to witness a meeting that starts on time. I actually had a meeting scheduled for 2pm that ended up starting at 4pm… the next day, with no explanation given. Rather than try to singlehandedly change the country’s corporate culture overnight, I’ve decided the best approach is to try and adapt myself. I’ve found the best strategy is to always have several projects on the go, so I can always switch gears and work on something else while I’m waiting for information.

With the rainy season just around the corner, thunderstorms are starting to become a part of everyday life. Makeni actually gets more than twice as much rain as Vancouver during this time of year. The only difference is it often comes in a span of 1-2 hours (often in the evening) and then the skies clear up again. This has had a few interesting consequences. The first is that our well is now completely full again (there was a time when the bucket was scraping the bottom, and I was genuinely concerned that we were going to run out of water). The second is that I’m now very hesitant to venture too far from my house in the evenings, though so far I’ve yet to be caught out in a storm. Lastly, and most annoyingly, I’ve discovered that my house leaks. Badly. During the first such storm, I stumbled blindly into my living room (the power tends to go out the second a storm starts. I haven’t been able to work out if this is intentional or not, but literally the entire city goes dark as soon as you see the first bolt of lightning) and right into a puddle of water that was nearly ankle deep. With a computer and iPhone sitting on the table, I started panicking that I was about to lose several expensive electronic devices, and grabbed a flashlight to try and find the leak. Surprisingly, the tin roof is completely water tight, but about 5 litres of dirty, muddy water somehow came through the living room floor and soaked everything in its path. Hopefully this doesn’t become a regular occurrence.

Bureh beach. Beautiful, and almost deserted.

On a personal note, one of the interesting challenges here has been to fill up time in the evenings and weekends with something other than just reading. I met a few medical students who are volunteering for 4 weeks at the local hospital who were planning a weekend trip to Bureh beach near Freetown. I had a work meeting in Freetown that Saturday, so figured I’d meet up with them Saturday night and spend Sunday relaxing at the beach. Because nothing in this country ever goes according to plan, I woke up Saturday morning feeling deathly ill. I’d gotten a couple mosquito bites a few days prior, so fearing the worst, I struggled to the city center and got in a shared taxi to Freetown (I learned my lesson to never take the bus again). At least the driver offered me the front seat. I jumped in and prepared to pass out when, literally 30 seconds before we were about to leave, the driver decided we can fit one more passenger into our 7 passenger van (we’ve already got 9 people in it). Alas, the only space left is my lap, and the final passenger weighs at least 180 lbs. I spent the next three hours with absolutely no feeling in my lower body, trying desperately not to vomit all over my new Sierra Leonean friend. Not a good start. I googled “malaria symptoms” as soon as I was in range of an internet connection in Freetown. For the record, they are abdominal pain, chills and sweats, nausea or vomiting, headache, fever, muscle aches and poor appetite. I had all of them. As soon as the meeting was over, I grabbed a coke (the only thing I’d been able to eat or drink all day) and mentally prepared for the journey to Bureh. If I’m going to die, it might as well be somewhere nice. That, and I trust British medical students a lot more than the typical doctor in Sierra Leone.

Palm wine. Will's face says is all.

Now is probably as good of a time as any to complain about Freetown’s traffic and infrastructure. This is going to be a major challenge to this country’s development plans. In addition to the ridiculous location of the airport (covered at length in my previous post), public transport here is completely nonsensical. All told, to get from the bus stop in Freetown to my meeting and then to Bureh beach involved a taxi, then a motorcycle taxi, then a poda poda (basically a 13 passenger van that carries upwards of 20 sweaty and smelly people. At least it’s cheap, though. $0.25-0.50 per ride) then another taxi (unlike in Canada taxis here drive set routes, similar to buses back home), and then another taxi, and then a motorcycle taxi. And that was just to get TO the meeting. Getting to Bureh involved another bike, then a taxi, then a poda poda, then another poda poda, then another taxi, and finally one last bike. The total trip time from my home in Makeni was 11 hours (including the 2 hour meeting) and required 14 vehicles. Fortunately, after all this and an early night’s sleep, I woke up the next day feeling about 90%, so no malaria. That was a positive development. The beach was just gorgeous, and the trip home was a lot smoother. While waiting for a taxi at the beach, we were approached by some locals who offered us a lift into town. Other than a 30 minute unplanned stop at their friend’s place to down a couple glasses of palm wine (which is poured out of an old anti-freeze container and tastes even worse than it sounds) the trip was uneventful. We then booked a car in town and were back home in three hours. Maybe I’m just unlucky when I travel alone?

The chin-up bar in my "gym".
Still very much a work in progress.

I’ve also started to get a bit stir crazy in the evenings, and so decided to try and turn the outdoor kitchen into a gym (after nearly four years of Investment Banking, I’ve pretty much forgotten how to cook anyways). So far there’s just a chin-up bar (which is extremely brittle and unlikely to last the week, which hopefully doesn’t result in a broken toe when I unexpectantly come crashing down on the cooking pots and utensils that cover my “gym” floor) and a mattress for doing sit-ups and push-ups. Maybe an eventual trip to the hardware store will yield some interesting pieces of makeshift equipment. Stay tuned!

Jesse

Safely Arrived

I’ve been in Sierra Leone for about a week and a half now, and decided it’s time to endure the painfully slow internet connection here and try and get my first blog post up.

First, a quick intro to the country. Sierra Leone is a former British colony in West Africa with a population of 6 million. Freetown is the country’s capital and largest city, with just under a million people. Those who have seen the movie Blood Diamond have a sense for what things were like here during the civil war, which ran from 1991-2002 and left 50,000 people dead, with another 2 million displaced in neighbouring countries as refugees. An estimated 70% of Sierra Leoneans currently live in poverty.

Things have been eventful here since day one. My flight landed at 3:30am at Lungi International Airport (see the map to the left) and, due to some miscommunication between myself and the person picking me up, I wasn’t sure what ferry to get on and ended up missing the 4:00am ferry crossing to Freetown. I was told by airport staff that it would be at least a 5 hour wait until the next ferry. I was also told that I could not wait at the airport terminal until then, as they were closing. Great.

As a foreigner travelling alone in a developing country, I wasn’t sure what to do at this point, so I just started walking. I passed an abandoned parking lot / trailer park where there were a few locals hanging out at this late hour. I couldn’t tell if it was particularly safe or not, but was tired to the point of not really caring anymore. I walked over, found a place to sit and settled in for what was going to be a long wait. One of the locals wandered over and we started chatting. After about an hour, I learned that one of their friends had a car and might know someone who could get me on a boat to Freetown. Slightly hesitant, I was also exhausted and struggling to stay awake, and thus not excited about the prospect of sitting there doing nothing for the next four hours. I decided to go for it. What’s the worst that could happen?

Below deck. I hope this boat actually goes to Freetown.

I was driven to a small boat terminal about 20 minutes away from the airport, where I paid $55 for two guys to get me below deck on a small boat as soon as the captain wasn't around. I sat there nervously for a good 30 minutes, waiting for the moment when I was going to be thrown off the boat and left to find my own way across. Miraculously, the engines fired up and we were on our way! 

Pirates of the North Atlantic! The most exciting ferry crossing of my life.

Halfway across the water, the two guys came down, took me out onto the deck, a bit of an argument ensued which quickly ended, and we spent the rest of the journey watching the sun rise across the ocean. It was a completely surreal moment and I arrived at the dock having made my first of many friends in Sierra Leone.

By the time I got to the hostel in Freetown it was 9am. There was no water pressure, so the shower wasn’t working. Despite having sweat more in the last 6 hours than the rest of my life combined, I wasn’t really that fussed. I’d forgotten to pack a towel anyways.

Two days later, the trip out to Makeni went equally as smoothly. I arrived at the government bus stop at 5:30am for what was supposed to be a 3 hour bus ride that left at 6am. Things got off to a bad start right away, as the bus was nowhere to be seen. It did eventually arrive, at 7am, and by the time we were on the road it was 7:30, already an hour and a half behind schedule. We drove for about 20 minutes before the bus driver pulled over, with no explanation, got off the bus, and disappeared. After waiting about 45 minutes, he finally returned, started up the engine, and we were moving again. We travelled literally 10 meters (across the road to another parking lot) where he pulled over and disappeared for another 45 minutes, leaving us sitting on a packed bus in sweltering 35 degree heat. Unbelievable! We finally got moving again and completed the rest of the journey to Makeni with relatively few issues. Total travel time: 8 hours. Total distance travelled: 260km. Yup, that's an average speed of about 30 km/h.

"New London" in Makeni. Home for the next 6 months.

Makeni is a much more rural environment than Freetown, though it is still Sierra Leone’s third largest city. My house has no running water, though I’m fortunate in that the well is very close by, and I was pleasantly surprised to find out that electricity had been recently installed (I found this place through a friend of mine from the UK, who had no electricity when she stayed here about a year ago).

Interestingly, lack of food isn’t really a problem here. If you try hard, you can get three decent sized meals a day for 15,000 Sierra Leonean Leons (about $3.00), including the inevitable “white man” mark-up. I’d be surprised if a local who prepares their own food is paying even a quarter of that. That said, as a foreigner, if you want to avoid getting sick, you probably want to eat somewhere that’s relatively clean and charging at least double this. Throw in a few snacks and drinks, and my food bill averages out to around $10/day.

The real issue here is nutrition. The aforementioned meals consist of a loaf of white bread for breakfast, white rice and sauce (such as ground nut soup) for lunch (usually with a little bit of chicken mixed in) and white rice and a different sauce (maybe potato leaf this time) for dinner. Some fruits (such as mangos) are pretty common as well, though I haven’t actually seen a vegetable since arriving in Sierra Leone. This poor nutrition is one of the primary contributors to Sierra Leone’s extremely low life expectancy at birth of less than 50 years (insufficient health care is another major factor) and is one of the things that microfinance organizations are trying to change by raising the economic status of the average person here.

SMT's Head Office.

I’ve been working at Salone Microfinance Trust (SMT) for a couple days now, though I’m still going through the orientation process. The office is comprised of a group of about 20 Sierra Leoneans. The team here is extremely friendly and passionate about microfinance, though not terribly sophisticated compared to the calibre of people I’m used to working with back home. I’m also sharing an office with an American volunteer from Kiva. For those not familiar with Kiva, it’s an organization that runs an online platform that connects lenders (regular people like you and me) with microfinance borrowers in developing countries. You simply log on to the Kiva website, create an account, and start browsing profiles and photos of entrepreneurs and business owners in the developing world that you can loan your own money to directly. The incredible thing is it costs you nothing; you’re not making a donation at all. The loan amount is charged to your credit card, but when the borrower repays their loan (microfinance repayment rates are typically around 98%), you get all your money back, and can either then loan it out to another borrower, or withdraw the funds completely from your Kiva account. Since being founded in 2005, Kiva has facilitated over $400 million in microfinance loans though its partnerships with local microfinance institutions (of which SMT is one). I highly encourage anyone who hasn’t looked into it to visit the website and consider making a small loan or two (www.kiva.org).

Anyways, that’s all I’ve got to say for now. Hope all is well back home, and I’ll do my best to keep everyone posted in the future.

Jesse