My success story
When I look back at the past 24 months of service, I
don’t really feel like I have done much.
Okay, well, that’s a bit of a lie.
I have spent a lot of time trying to partner with
people to carry out different activities.
But of all of the endless meetings that I have had with these potential
partners, very few activities and projects have come out of them. I can’t say for sure what exactly went wrong
– their busy schedules, unmet high expectations of working with a mzungu,
agreeing to work with no intention of following through – but I had so many fruitless
meetings that I had to drop those who weren’t truly invested in working with me.
Sure, I could have gotten a lot more work done alone that
would have been just as good for communities and given me a more scheduled work
plan. But I couldn’t do it because I
knew that these activities would ultimately be for my own pleasure and I wanted
to build something with people through our mutual desire to do the same good. However, not all of my attempts at making
this type of connection have been failures. There is a small group of seven people, who
have been working with me since December 2016, that have shown me that
sometimes commitment to people can lead to bigger and better.
From the very beginning, I felt the weight of
expectation. “This white lady is coming to work with us…she must have great things
to teach and to give to us,” is what I imagined went through every single
person’s mind. The group members were
expectant…that much was clear…and I had to rise to the occasion. My hope was that all participating group
members would volunteer (receive no allowance) to train community members on
various health topics. The beneficiaries
were to be chosen by each group member by selecting ten neighboring households
to their own; therefore, group members wouldn’t have to go so far out of their
way to share with beneficiaries. Those
who were committed to being an active part of the group were given a
celebratory party, before starting the work, where we shared our group ideas
with local leaders, ate pork and chips together, and danced against my protests.
I felt like I was asking a lot of them. So I developed a type of training curriculum
to teach them the art of working with people and having audience-focused
lessons, which was a very different approach from what many of them had been
previously taught to do. We met at least
once a month, sometimes twice or not at all, for about two hours at a time the
first six months together. As much work
as it was to create a curriculum, it was much easier than trying to figure what
to do after the training concluded
because they had some pretty high expectations that I would bring the best to
their community. And their expectations
had me feeling a little bit like a magician, about to perform, who had
accidentally forgot all of her trick cards at home.
Thankfully, a recent Peace Corps training on malaria had
given me an idea: I could have the group do a barrier analysis survey to start
the data collection process with the prospect of receiving mosquito nets
pending the outcome. It gave me a way to
meet the various beneficiaries once the survey was completed as well. It seemed like a perfect start! The fact that group members were still
showing up and doing work when I had given them zero money was amazing to me,
so I wanted to give them a say in their workload. We decided that each member could begin with
surveying five households and we would add more as the project grew in
size. They were fairly punctual in keeping
the deadline and soon began to slowly introduce me to our beneficiaries.
Once we had mostly finished with the barrier analysis
activities, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. A work colleague was helping the group
complete a grant proposal for a piggery project, but she wasn’t able to get all
of the necessary information before the deadline. While she was collecting this information,
the group was discussing making the group more official and registering as a community
based organization (CBO). Of course, they
appointed me as their organization’s director.
When I heard this news, I was elated and horrified. It was my sincerest hope that members would
take complete initiative over the group and want to keep it going even after I
was gone, but I was in no position to be their director. I’m highly unqualified and I did not have
plans to stay in Uganda longer than my allotted contract; I could not commit to
the group in the way a director would need to do. It was an honor to be thought of so highly by
people I had come to enjoy working with, but I began to question the damage I
had done by starting this group. Could I
have done a bad thing here? I had no
idea what I was doing and reality had finally caught up with me.
So I thought about it.
And I told the group that I couldn’t accept the role of director. It was difficult because they kept insisting
that it could work out, but I am equally stubborn. My true role was as the group’s founder. I could help them revise the group
constitution and try to link them to resources, yet I could not be the leading
force behind this decision or even at the top of it. I could, however, transfer my skills (such as
making reusable menstrual pads) to them and apply for a Peace Corps grant with
one serious project idea. They
willingly, somewhat disappointedly, accepted and we began to discuss what we
could do together before I left them. I
gave them a month to finalize what they wanted to do and so began the wonderful
inner workings that led to our current poultry project.
The group was saddened that their piggery project idea
had fallen through because it would have given them an income to run group
activities and support themselves. They
still wanted to have some income generating activity and were okay to settle
for a smaller-scale project with the chickens.
I was taking a risk opening a grant so near to the close of my service,
so I really made them work for it with me.
It was fine for me to develop the basic timeline with goals and
objectives, but they were solely responsible for creating a budget, in which
they had to find a community contribution to cover at least one-fourth of the
total expenses. The process was much
easier than I had imagined because I was working with people who were
determined to see results come from their ideas and were willing to put in more
effort than me to see it through.
In the meantime, we still wanted to do work while waiting
on the grant approval. Remember the
malaria barrier analysis survey? Well,
group members didn’t forget about it and frequently asked about receiving
mosquito nets for beneficiaries (even though I consistently told them that we
may never receive any nets). While going
through the grant application process, I had found a volunteer with many extra
mosquito nets (thanks Lauren) and organized for the group members to lead an
informational distribution session. It
was such a privilege to simply sit by and watch my team do their job, one that
most of them do on a weekly basis. It
had taken some time, but slowly the group’s work was actually starting to make
an impact and beneficiaries began to believe in the group’s mission.
My feelings of pride towards my group continued as I
watched them take responsibility over the poultry project. Again, my role was simple: I would allocate
them specific sums of money depending on what was needed at any given time. And because the project was relatively small
(just over $1,000 USD), I really was not needed much as a supervisor. All of my interactions with them up until
that point had revealed to me that they were very capable people on their own
and were merely looking for a way to exercise their abilities. The leaders took the project very seriously
and found a mentor to tell them all of the ways to properly care for this
specific chicken breed, called broilers, in their beginning weeks of life. And as the members took over the project, I
prepared a small training to complement their work.
I don’t know how many hours I have spent in front of a
computer or with pen and paper researching and crafting various curriculums,
but it was more than I ever anticipated that I would do as a PCV. The stakes were a bit higher with this particular
training curriculum, though, because I had a lot of influence over the future
direction of this project. It took us
awhile to organize all of us in one place (much harder than you’d think, even
if there are only seven of us) and I was, again, blown away. The content of my finance education, conflict
management, and introduction to communication training was very simple, yet the
group truly took all of the material to heart.
They discussed their future, how to use their earnings, what they could
do to improve their communication, etc.
It was probably the longest, most boring session I’ve ever led, but they
accepted the material and earnestly tried to be attentive despite the slow
droop their eyes incurred as the day progressed.
There have definitely been many more times where I
wondered if this group really mattered…if the group members or community cared
about this work. We have had our
struggles as a group and most of the “work” we have done together was holding
meetings to discuss what we wanted to do or ways we could do it. But I don’t feel so bad when I talk to one
particular group member. I haven’t had
one conversation with him, since the first time we met, in which he hasn’t profusely
thanked me for the work that I am doing in his community and, now, with the
poultry project. His over-the-top kind
words are the reminder that help me see my work’s importance because it matters
to him and he matters to the community.
It’s hard to trust people because there are too many people who want to
do work but for the wrong reasons, too many people who say they want to do work
but don’t actually commit. All PCVs go
through service hoping to find true people to partner with us. And I did.
Who knows, though?
Maybe these people only stuck around because they believed they would
eventually get something from me despite all of the times I said, “I cannot
give you anything.” (At least one hundred times, I’m sure.) But I wouldn’t even be upset if this were the
case because, of course, they deserve it!
They followed me even when I had no idea where I was going or how it
would end. I never gave them a pocket
allowance like most organizations do for their volunteers. And though we lost some members, gained some
new, they kept faithfully showing up with a positive attitude and an eager
desire to do good. I have met and worked
with a lot of people in my three years in Uganda; I consider myself
extraordinarily fortunate to have found outstanding community members to work
alongside. And I’m glad that I could have
some part in honoring the faithfulness of a group that I had originally started
because I wanted something to do.
My group members and I have been through a lot together
since December 2016. I’ve sat with them
in their homes discussing their lives…I’ve eaten local foods with them as they
rejoice in my praise for tasting the best malakwang ever…I’ve embarrassed
myself at introduction ceremonies with them as we danced with traditional dancers…I’ve
seen an actual dead man with them because they convinced me to go up to the
casket with them at a burial service. They
have taken up so much my service and made it meaningful, so I owe just as much
to them as they feel they owe to me. As
I prepare to say goodbye to them, all I can do is hope that they will continue
to dedicate themselves to what WE
have started together. And I somehow think it will all be okay.
Xoxo,
Emilia
DISCLAIMER: The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.
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