Last week I visited the Fundación Adelante office in El Progreso, which is a couple hours west down the highway, towards San Pedro Sula. El Progreso is a small city in the department (state) of Yoro, which lies next to Atlantida. The town has an attractive central park, and busy downtown streets that come alive with food vendors in the evenings. Less than 30 minutes from San Pedro Sula, many people commute to the big city to work.

Accompanied by credit officers, I visited some local Asambleas, and spoke with some of the women in attendance. At one Asamblea, I met a woman who used her Adelante loan to support the family shoe-making business. I’ve met other women who sell shoes, but this is the first time I’ve spoken with someone who is involved in actually making the shoes. Her husband is the shoe-maker, and when I asked her, and later him, where he learned his trade, they both looked at me blankly. It was a question with an obvious answer: he’s always been making shoes. He doesn’t remember learning; he helped out his father in his father’s shoe-making business.

They proudly showed me their work room: in one of the small front rooms of their home, two sewing machines were set up, and there were small piles of leather, tools, wooden models of feet, and leather sandals on tables, chairs and on the floor. Most of the family crowded around the sewing machines while I was talking to them; they had seven children, most of whom were just coming home from school. Their youngest, a boy not yet walking, was wearing a nice pair of sandals made by his father.

At another Asamblea, I spoke with a woman who was half-way through paying off her first loan with Adelante. She has been running a pulperia (small shop) in her home for about ten years, and has had loans with other organizations before. When a neighbour invited her to join their Asamblea three months ago, she joined and received a loan of 3000 lempiras (?? US$). She used her loan to buy more products for her inventory in her pulperia, buying more school supply and paper products to sell alongside the granos basicos (basic grains) that most pulperias sell.

This woman told me she likes Adelante much more than the other organizations she has had loans with, because she likes the way Adelante functions. She says the loans are much easier and more manageable to re-pay, and the help that Adelante offers goes beyond just the economic. She said the charlas at the Asamblea meetings motivate her to develop herself and her business, and provide useful business advice. Her four children - three girls and a boy between the ages of five and 13 - are all in school; paying these expenses - the required uniforms, shoes and supplies - can be very challenging. This woman hopes to provide education for all her children, so they can grow up to be professionals. Once she finishes paying off her current loan, she hopes to get another loan from Adelante, so she can continue to grow her business and support her family.

This morning, as I was walking to work, I passed a young girl pulling a small, make-shift wooden cart on wheels. She is a girl I have seen before in my neighbourhood, often in the mornings. I have seen other children like her – young boys who walk through the streets in pairs, often with wooden boxes on wheels, or one very young boy who comes alone with his plastic bag. For those who tug along wheeled boxes behind them, it is obvious the materials – the axles, the wheels, the slats of wood – are all second- or third- or fourth-hand, and have been pulled together from a variety of sources.

I live in a pretty nice neighbourhood in La Ceiba: one of the nicer ones. The streets are wide and clean; there are no shops or comedors; the houses are sturdy, with gated patios, attractive gardens, and barking dogs; some houses have additions and second floors, which make them quite large. There is also a pick-up truck with several uniformed security guards that makes its way around the neighbourhood throughout the day and night.

Each street in my neighbourhood has several plastic bins or metal cages where we deposit our garbage to be picked up by the municipal truck. There are no blue bins to deposit materials for recycling that so many in North America are accostomed to using. I have been living in Ceiba for many months now, and still have a very hard time not separating my garbage. After years of having separate bins for paper, tin cans, plastic bottles, and organic waste, it pains me to put a big glass bottle or a newspaper in the same bag as vegetable peelings and plastic wrappers. So my roommate and I do separate our garbage a little: putting cans and bottles in a separate bag.

We make these feeble efforts of separating garbage in the hopes that, in some very small way, this will lighten the work-day of these children that come to our neighbourhood. You see, these kids wander our streets to sort through the garbage, and remove what can be recycled.

There are some recycling facilities in La Ceiba – facilities that pay a small fee to those who bring in recyclables. I don’t know much about these recycling facilities: who owns and manages the facilities, how much they pay for the materials brought to them in plastic bags or cardboard boxes, or even where they are located. I haven’t been to a recycling facility, but I have been to the Ceiba dump: a huge hill off the highway heading east, surrounded by small barrios (neighbourhoods) of make-shift houses with piles of big, old, rusty metal materials (pieces of cars, box-springs, pieces of old appliances, etc) out front. Before arriving at the gate of the dump, several dozen people sort through piles of garbage.

I don’t know about the lives of these children: if they go to school, what other activities fill their days, if they are happy. I always try to smile and say a few words, but the distance between us is too great to bridge to develop comfort and open conversations.

I also don’t know what to do with the swirl of emotions and thoughts that flare up when I see these children. It can be so easy to become complacent in our daily lives: to engage with our social, home, and work worlds without often looking beyond our daily activities. Yet when I see these children - who try to make a few lempiras off the garbage I produce - I trip over my day-to-day tasks and stumble over my regular walking-to-work daydreams, and am confronted by a mix of emotions and reflections. How my life and the little girl’s life are connected; how the things that I have in my house, and where I live, are connected to the things she has in her house, and where she lives; what role the daily tasks I give little thought to affect her life; how we each came to be walking to our respective “jobs”; the links, interplay, and connections between my life and hers. Many of the emotions that accompany such reflections - such as hopelessness, helplessness, or guilt - are not very useful and do not facilitate change, nor do they make a difference for the little girl I passed this morning. Yet I must have hope that the reflections, and some of the emotions - such as anger or sadness - are somehow beneficial; that my own efforts to look at my own life, and the world I live in, will help motivate or inspire me to continue to push and live for change.

A common response when I tell people I’m working with a microfinance organization is: “Oh, you mean, like Kiva?” Many people have heard of this organization – Bill Clinton and Oprah have spoken of and supported Kiva – and the organization is strongly associated with microfinance.

Rising in popularity, Kiva is an organization and web site that aims to connect individual donors with individual entrepreneurs – people can lend money over the internet to individual business owners in the developing world. The idea behind Kiva is that individuals can see their actual donation (in the form of a loan) at work in another individuals’ life.

On the Kiva site, you’ll find lists of individual entrepreneurs all around the world; entrepreneurs who have a small business or an idea, and are looking for a micro-loan to finance their idea. Lenders read through profiles of the entrepreneurs, and chose one they would like to support. Lenders offer a loan, and Kiva aggregates the capital from individual lenders to raise the money for the loan. The borrowers pay back their loans, and once the loan is fully re-paid, lenders can withdraw their principal, or re-loan it to another entrepreneur. With journal entries and pictures, people can see how their piece of the loan is helping entrepreneurs.

According to the website, Kiva is a person-to-person lending site that connects people through lending for the sake of alleviating poverty. Kiva “lets you lend to a specific entrepreneur in the developing world – empowering them to lift themselves out of poverty.”

Also according to its website, as of May 5^th, Kiva has $US 29,628,560 of loans from 285,585 lenders. Its re-payment rate is 99.71%. These are big numbers, but Kiva deals essentially with small loans that add up to big numbers. The average total amount loaned per Kiva lender is US$ 104, and the average loan to an entrepreneur is US$ 510.

Kiva doesn’t work directly with the entrepreneurs around the world; instead they partner with existing microfinance organizations that are already working with local entrepreneurs – called Field Partners. The Fundación Adelante was one of Kiva’s first four Field Partners. We don’t have any entrepreneurs listed on Kiva right now, but we’re currently talking to Kiva about listing some of our clients on their web site. It’s a great way for people who want to support Adelante to directly see the impact of their loan in the lives of the women they are supporting.

For more info on Kiva, see their website: kiva.org

References: kiva.org and wikipedia

One of the Asambleas that I have visited most often is in a barrio (neighbourhood) outside of La Ceiba, and is held on a patio in front of a pulperia (small shop) of the Asamblea’s Jefa. I really enjoy this Asamblea – the women are all very friendly and open, and the air is usually full of their laughter. Several weeks ago I spoke with the Jefa (President) and owner of the pulperia, Vicenta.

Throughout the Asamblea meeting, she stands behind the counter of her pulpería (small store that sells necessities), smiling and laughing with the rest of the women in the group that sit out front. As the Jefa of this Asamblea, Vicenta facilitates the meeting, guiding her compañeras through attendance, reporting, updates, and the educational charla. Vicenta is quick to laugh loudly, and beams her smile at the group throughout the meeting.

The Adelante meeting is held on the colourful front porch of Vicenta’s pulperia; there are large paintings of teddy bears on the walls, and the window to her shop is painted bright green and yellow. From her shop window in front of her house, Vicenta sells granos basicos - basic grains, such as rice, sugar, and beans - as well as soup stock, some spices, cookies and other supplies, to the local neighbourhood and her friends.

At 58 years old, Vicenta has three grown children: two sons and a daughter. Her daughter, the eldest, is 34 years old and has a three year old daughter of her own. She supports her mother in her business, and has helped her get a savings card at the bank. Vicenta now lives with her 14 year old grandson, who is a student, her husband, and her mother.

Vicenta has had five loans with Adelante, including one individual loan. Prior to her first loan four years ago, Vicenta worked as a domestic worker, hired by people to work in their homes. Over the years, she has used her loans to build and support her pulperia; she invested her most recent individual loan of 15,000 Lempiras (784 US$) into her shop, expanding her inventory and growing her business. With the income from her business, Maria has been able to make some improvements on her house, which can be seen through the back doorway of her pulperia. She points out the additions she has made to her kitchen, adding new shelves and counters.

As the Jefa (Chief) of her Asamblea, Vicenta’s responsibilities include visiting the other Adelante clients to see how they are doing in their businesses, and making sure everything is up-to-date in their Asamblea’s loans. Vicenta also facilitates the meetings, and helps ensure that all the group’s paperwork is complete.

What Vicenta has enjoyed the most about her participation with Fundación Adelante is the educational charlas (talks) they have at each Asamblea meeting. Vicenta says these charlas are very useful, which they can put into practice both in and out of the house, and share with their neighbours.

As the meeting closes and the women prepare to leave, Vicenta grins widely at everyone, and laughs easily at the stories and experiences the women share with each other. Vicenta’s bright smile and colourful pulperia add warmth and friendship to this Adelante Asamblea.

Atlántida has one main highway that is the primary transportation and economic corridor along the north coast; this highway runs from east to west and transects the entire length of the department. South of the highway, after the piñeras (pineapple plantations) and African palm plantations, the land climbs up into the mountains that run like a spine along the north coast of the country.

Up in these hills there are many aldeas and caserios (very small communities – often no bigger than a few houses), some connected by a network of bumpy, rocky, dirt roads (often I find the term “road” to be a bit of a stretch). These “roads” are frequently close to impassable, and often turn to roaring rivers in the rainy season. The families that live in the caserios that dot these hillsides mostly live at the margins of subsistence, living off the beans and corn they plant along the steep hillsides, and sometimes supplemented with illegal timber extraction. There is little to no work, and several times when I’ve visited some isolated settlements, their school isn’t open because they can’t keep a teacher. Access to a market is difficult (often requiring long journeys on foot or horseback to the nearest dirt road where they can pick up a bus), so selling any products they may have is nearly impossible, and they often have to sell to middle-men who don’t give them a fair price. Wealthier people also live in these hills, or at least own land, and they are mostly involved in cattle-ranching.

On the other side of the highway, stretching out towards the sea, the land flattens into more fields of pineapples and African Palm. Along the coast there are many beaches, and once there were vast tracts of mangrove forests, which can still be found in some parts of the department. More aldeas and caserios are scattered along impassable dirt roads; some communities are only accessible by boat. Artesanal fishing is a primary subsistence economic activity along the coast, and Atlántida is known for its fantastic lobster, shrimp and fresh fish. Some fishers sell their products to restaurants or in neighbourhoods (every morning a man with coolers strapped to his bike rides through our neighbourhood yelling “llevo langosta, filete, camarones!” – “I have lobster, fish, shrimp!”), but many fishers must also sell to middle-men. Many people from these small communities find work in the pineapple, banana or African Palm plantations owned by large companies such as Standard Fruit/Dole (which got its start here in La Ceiba, according to Wikipedia).

There is much to see and learn by driving along this main artery of Atlántida – and even more to see and learn by getting off the highway – this is just a simple sketch, based on my own observations and conversations with different people. In some ways, this highway represents many of the complexities and challenges that the people, communities, leaders, and environment of Honduras face.

My visits a couple weeks ago to Garifuna communities where Adelante works got me thinking about the global food crisis, and so I wrote a blog the struggles of local women to make ends meet nested within these global challenges. Since then, it seems I’m seeing news stories about the global food crisis everywhere. Several prominent international figures – such as UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon, the heads of the World Bank, the IMF and the WTO, and several heads of state, including Bush – have spoken about a global food crisis, and the urgency need to address the crisis.

This week, the global food crisis is the cover story for The Economist, with several articles dedicated to the topic. While these articles enthusiastically adhere to The Economists’ usual political and economic stance, they clearly outline the urgency and gravity of the situation.

One article, The New Face of Hunger, quotes the head of the International Food Policy Research Institute as saying that “[w]orld agriculture has entered a new, unsustainable and politically risky period.” Food crises, unfortunately, are not new. What is different this time is the scale and magnitude of the crisis. Usually crises are localised, and only affect those already on the margins. This one is international, and affecting a much larger portion of the world’s population.

The Economist article goes on to describe some of the dramatic consequences of rising prices around the world: “In Haiti, protesters chanting ‘We’re hungry’ forced the prime minister to resign; 24 people were killed in riots in Cameroon; Egypt’s president ordered the army to start baking bread; the Philippines made hoarding rice punishable by life imprisonment.”

The article also puts forward some scary forecasts. With rising food prices, the spending power of people who buy their own food may decrease by 20% - which is a conservative estimate and in some regions prices are increasing even more. This means that the number of people living on less than 1$ a day – the definition of absolute poverty – and those living on 1$ to 2$ a day, currently a staggering 1 billion and 1.5 billion respectively, will likely increase considerably. Robert Zeollick, the president of the World Bank, has said that inflation could push 100 million people back into poverty, which would wipe out many of the gains the poorest have made in recent years.

Responses to this global crisis are not obvious, straight-forward or easy to come by. Rising prices are not just affecting individuals and families: aid agencies that send emergency food supplies are also affected, and can’t buy the same amount of food for the same amount of money. The Economist says that the World Food Program needs an extra $700 million just to distribute the same amount of food as last year. To me, this seems to suggest that the usual response of Western countries and their representative international organizations – to throw money at the crisis – won’t work too well. As prices rise and the crisis worsens, more and more money will be needed to confront the situation – making resolutions less and less attainable. Furthermore food aid is not all that is required. The Economist quotes the head of the UN’s World Food Program: “For the middle classes [an increase in food prices] means cutting out medical care. For those on $2 a day, it means cutting out meat and taking the children out of school. For those on $1 a day, it means cutting out meat and vegetables and eating only cereals. And for those on 50 cents a day, it means total disaster.”

This crisis has really demonstrated to me the inter-connections and dynamism of the world and its challenges. We can’t talk about the food crisis without talking about biofuels, the price of oil, and the disparity between the richest and the poorest – among many other issues. The causes to this crisis are many and complex, and it seems to me that responses need to confront these causes (and not only their consequences) must be equally multi-faceted and broad.

References:

http://www.economist.com/opinion/displayStory.cfm?Story_ID=11050146

The Silent Tsunami, April 17

http://www.economist.com/opinion/displaystory.cfm?story_id=11049284

The New Face of Hunger, April 17

Last week some representatives of an organization that financially supports Adelante came for a visit, and I went with them to talk to some Adelante participants in Colon, the department east of Atlantida. The Adelante office in Tocoa, 200 km east of La Ceiba, attends to these Asambleas, which were located another two hours outside of Tocoa, down a rocky dirt road.

The two communities we visited, Guadaloupe and San Antonio, are small Garifuna villages that gaze out over the green and blue waters of the Caribbean; many families live right on the beach. I thought that the scenery, with its white sand beaches leading up into forested hills, was beautiful and relaxing, and the palm trees, thatched rooves, and hammocks reminded me of my stereotype of a tranquilo Caribbean town. I took several pictures of the small, colourful homes; the cayucos (canoes) resting on the beach, back after a morning of fishing; and the beautiful women dressed in bright colours as they showed us how they made casava (yucca flatbread) or coconut bread. I couldn’t help but wonder if these women found themselves and their community quite as photogenic, relaxing and appealing as I did.

The Adelante women we met with were very open and friendly, and seemed happy to talk to us about the small businesses that their Adelante loans support. A couple of the women owned pulperias (small stores in their homes that sell the basics); others made and sold coconut bread (I bought a cinnamon-flavored roll for 5 Lempiras - about a quarter - that was delicious and still warm!); another woman belonged to a cooperative that made casava.

One comment we heard again and again emphasized the rising cost of food, and the huge impact it was having on their businesses and lives. The women with pulperias were having a hard time stocking their shelves, and despite raising their own prices, were still seeing their incomes decrease; the women who made coconut bread complained about the price of their basic ingredients.

At times, my work at Adelante brings into sharp focus how the local issues that the people I meet are confronting parallels to larger issues affecting the world; it’s like having a brief but vivid glimpse into how the local fits snugly into the global. Listening to these women speak was one of those occasions.

The cost of food has been on the rise all over the globe, and in the past couple of years it has reached worrisome levels; enough for even the economically wealthier countries to take notice. This year news agencies have paid more attention - with headline stories about food crises on all major news web sites - the BBC, CBC, Reuters, and the Independent. Journalists report that 36 countries face a food crisis, and stories tell of protests and riots in countries as diverse as Haiti, the Philippines, Egypt, Ethiopia, the Ivory Coast, and Indonesia.

Even the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, and the United Nations (not always the quickest responders) have started to pay attention. The BBC reported that the leader of the IMF warned that the risk of starvation is very real for hundreds of thousands of people, and the leader of the World Bank declared that 100 million people in poor countries are at risk of being pushed deeper into poverty. As is often the case, these international organizations want to solve the problem by throwing money at it: the UN’s World Food Program says at least $500 million is needed in emergency aid, and the World Bank is sending $10 million in emergency funds to Haiti, and says it will double its aid to African agriculture to $800 million.

According to Bloomberg, a large financial information organization, the price of wheat has risen 130%, soya 87%, rice 74% and corn 31% between March 2007 and March 2008 (read on BBC). The World Bank said that the rise in the price of staple foods such as these has led to an overall increase in the price of food by 83% in the past three years.

So why are prices skyrocketing so much? There are a few reasons. Global population is on the rise, and economic powerhouses (to a certain sector of their societies) India and China have a growing and wealthier middle class that has led to increased demand. There has also been some bad weather in key grain-growing areas, like droughts in Australia, and decreasing reserves of grain in wealthier countries. The price of oil is also causing prices to rise, as industrial agriculture is highly oil-dependent.

Another reason for the price rises, the one that I find the most interesting and unsettling, is the conversion of land from food crops to biofuel crops. The soaring demand for biofuel crops has meant there has been a decrease in the amount of land destined for food crops; since supply can’t keep up with demand, prices are on the rise. This can also lead to an increase in deforestation, as land is cleared to make way for biofuel crops or food crops that have been displaced in favour of biofuel crops. Prices fo other staple food crops - such as wheat - increase as well as demand shifts to these products.

Demand for biofuel crops - fed by countries attempting to find alternatives (or supplements) to oil - is still on the rise. The United States is the world’s biggest gas guzzler, and has ambitious plans to make it the world’s largest biofuels market, and the European Union has tough new biofuel production targets. Combined with the other factors previously mentioned, the increase in food prices is likely to continue.

This was what crossed my mind last week, as I was visiting these tranquilo, attractive communities along the Caribbean coast, listening to women lament the difficulties they are confronting due to rising prices. They are not alone in their complaints - these global issues are causing global challenges; the actions of those on the global stage are clearly reflected in the local situation.

]]> http://adelantefoundation.wordpress.com/2008/04/16/local-visit-global-challenges/feed/ adelantefoundation Beach at Guadaloupe Pulperia http://adelantefoundation.wordpress.com/2008/04/15/42/ http://adelantefoundation.wordpress.com/2008/04/15/42/#comments Tue, 15 Apr 2008 17:29:55 +0000 adelantefoundation http://adelantefoundation.wordpress.com/?p=42

Two weeks ago I went on a trip to visit the Tocoa office of Adelante; located in the department east of Atlántida, the town of Tocoa is about 200 km from La Ceiba. I spent the day clinging to the back of one of the credit officer’s motorbikes, visiting Asambleas. I got a chance to meet some Adelante women, and a few of them gave me tours of their homes, yards and businesses.

As we were leaving the first Asamblea, the credit officer pointed out the house where one of the women I had just met lives. It was a small house, perched on the steep embankment that overlooked the road. It was made of dried mud pressed between wooden sticks, and a roof of thatched palm leaves.

I first noticed Maria as soon as she arrived at the Asamblea. As she was greeting everyone, she pulled out some beautiful hand-made handkerchiefs and place-settings that another credit officer had ordered from her. I admired how beautifully and delicate they were, and her enterprising spirit in promoting and selling her products to Adelante credit officers and the other women in her Asamblea. Throughout the meeting, a crochet needle and black wool ducked and weaved through and around her fingers, as a delicate table runner lengthened in her lap.

The only time the dancing crochet needle in Maria’s hands stopped was when it was time for the educational charla; at this point Maria stood up and facilitated the charla. Last October, Maria was chosen by her Asamblea as their Community Educator; this means that she attends training sessions in Tocoa, and facilitates the educational charlas at Asamblea meetings. That day, the charla was about Planning, and Maria discussed advantages and strategies of planning, while flipping through the laminated and colourful lesson on large flip-chart paper.

While talking to Maria later, she told me about some of the other training she has received and her volunteer work. In 1986 she was trained by Medico del Mundo (a Spanish health organization) to be a mid-wife, and she volunteers with a malaria prevention program. Currently Maria is working as a mid-wife with two patients; she helps them through the various stages of pregnancy and delivery and the women pay her a small fee.

Maria is now in her second year with Adelante. She invested her first loan in her pulperia, a small store that sells basic supplies. She doesn’t focus as much these days on her pulperia; instead she has turned her attention to activities that she finds more enjoyable: using her knitting, needlepoint and sewing skills. She told me that she doesn’t remember learning these skills; she learned them as a child, and has been selling products for the past 13 years. With her most recent loan from Adelante, for 5000 Lempiras (265US$), she bought the materials she needs—wool, fabric and embroidery—to make handkerchiefs, pillow cases, bed-spreads, and table cloths. She sells her products to the women in her neighbourhood, her friends, and in the surrounding communities.

Maria told me that she lives with her husband and youngest child, who is 13 years old and currently at school. It is hard for her husband to find work, but a couple times a week he works in the banana plantations. Maria and her husband also have three older children, who are 26, 32, and 36 years old, and continue to support their parents. At their house, Maria and her husband also raise chickens, and use the eggs to sell or eat. She is hoping to increase their chicken farming activities, and has used some of her Adelante funds to build fences for her animals.

After we left the Asamblea, and the credit officer pointed Maria’s house out to me, I was reminded of the last thing Maria said to me. She told me that she and her husband have started working on their home, and hope to build themselves a home of cement blocks and floors; she said her work with Adelante is helping.

A frequent question in Honduras (and back home in Canada too) when you first meet someone, especially in a work-related context, is “Cual es su carrera?”, or “What is your career?” I am envious of people who can answer this question simply and clearly, and I have noticed this is the case for many professionals here in La Ceiba; most have graduated as an Ingeniero (Engineer) or Licenciado (undergraduate degree) in something specific, such as forestry, ecotourism, biology, business administration, etc. (The case would be quite different for most Hondurans, who are not professionals, who often engage in multiple different activities for their livelihoods).

On the other hand, I often find this a challenging question to answer. My undergraduate degree was in International Development, and my Masters in Environmental Studies—both interdisciplinary, and sometimes ambiguous, degrees and fields. When people ask what my specialty is, what field of work I am in, or where I will be job-hunting when I head home, I have no simple answer. This is partly because the only term I can think of to describe the general field of work I am now in as “International Development.”

Now, “International Development” must be one of the most ambiguous, ill-defined and controversial terms, concepts and array of activities. For many, the term ‘development’ conjures up a certain idea of progress, which includes lots of construction, big projects, capitalist markets, and economic growth. For others, International Development is about poverty alleviation, increasing access to education, good health care, clean air and water. (The Fundación Adelante’s work fits in there.) For others, International Development is yet another effort by the Global North (Western capitalist countries) to try to impose their ideals and systems upon the rest of the world.

To confuse things even more, those working within International Development (however they define it) use a whole language containing other, equally ambiguous and controversial terms, such as sustainability, capitalism, capacity development, empowerment, partnership, rural livelihoods, etc etc…

I think International Development is a little bit of all of these things: a complex array of perspectives, definitions, ideals, cultures, relationships, and systems, all interacting, dancing, and colliding with each other. Like most concepts, it is nothing as straightforward as a simple category or definition, and cannot be condemned or praised as one monolithic thing.

All this controversy, disagreement and uncertainty makes declaring a “specialty” or stating what field of work I am in rather challenging to me. As I am still seeking clarity, I cannot offer clarity when answering the question, “Cual es su carrera?” The question conjures up an infinite, relentless and fascinating collection of further questions, each one more complicated than the one before it.

I reflect a lot about what this field of International Development means to me. As someone from the Global North, what is my role in this wide, complicated world of ours? This labyrinthine, antagonistic, entangled and twisted web of International Development both infuriates and motivates me. Yet somewhere within that crazy labyrinth of words, lies a set of issues and challenges that deal with real people’s lives and realities; challenges related to the environment, injustice, socio-economic disparity. How do I fit myself, and how do the countries of the Global North fit, into this web we have created?

Last week when I went to visit Tocoa (about 2 hours east of La Ceiba), I met Elvia and Elida Peraza, two sisters in an Adelante Asamblea in the rural areas around Tocoa. I chatted with them, both eager to tell me about their work and activities, and share the stories of their loans with Adelante, which seem to have followed different paths.

Elvia engages in a diverse range of activities for subsistence and income, and has used her Adelante loans to support these activities. She sells medicines, both natural and pharmaceutical, to her neighbours and friends, raises farm animals, and does a wide array of farm contract work. She has used her four loans with Adelante to buy pigs to sell when grown, a calf for milk production, and a chainsaw and wooden cart, which she uses for working on farms. Farmers and landowners will hire Elvia and her husband to prune their orange trees, harvest their fields, or transport sand, wood or a harvest.

On the other hand, Elida has focused her loan investments primarily on raising animals. Prior to her involvement with Adelante, Elida worked in agriculture, growing and selling corn. Unfortunately a few years ago, Elida was assaulted and robbed, and now feels safer and more comfortable in her own home. She says raising animals is perfect for her: she enjoys working with animals, and is able to stay close to home. So Elida has used her loans with Adelante to buy farm animals, and they are a good investment. For 600 Lempiras, she can buy a two month old calf, two months later she can sell it for 2000 Lempiras.

Elida lives with her husband and two of her children, aged 19 and 21, both of whom work on local farms. She has four other children who have moved away to San Pedro Sula (Honduras’ commercial centre) and the United States. Her sister, Elvia, lives with her husband, and one adopted daughter. Elvia and her husband never had children of their own, but when a neighbouring couple died of AIDS, Elvia and her husband took in their five year old child. They raised her as their own, and she is now 15 and a student at the local school.

The two sisters also both have dreams for future loans with Adelante. Elvia hopes to continue diversifying her small business activities, by building a candy shop in front of her house. Elida hopes to invest in the place she feels most comfortable: her home. She currently lives in a house made of dried mud and a thatched roof, and she is using her Adelante savings to build a sturdier house made of cement blocks.