July — Social Edge

The Wage Dilemma

The emotional task of deciding how much to pay local staff in underdeveloped, war-torn economies

“I think we’re blurring the line between being a strong organization that’s creating long-term impact and acting like a bunch of bleeding heart altruists.”

The conversation around the campfire in FORGE’s compound at Meheba Refugee Settlement, Zambia, had started to get a bit heated. The subject matter was controversial: how much should FORGE pay refugee staff?

We at FORGE maintain a standardized wage policy in each of our camps in order to ensure that our refugee staff is paid at a rate that is not only economically-fair but also consistent with the local economy and the rates paid by other NGOs. In doing so, we constantly walk the line between paying the high rates that are commensurate with what we believe that our staff deserve, but not paying such high rates that we disrupt the local economy, create tensions between the staff of other NGOs, and/or limit our ability to afford successful projects in the future.

Not surprisingly, we want to err on the side of paying too much. Our 100+ refugee staff are our greatest resource and, quite often, also among our greatest friends. Even the ‘richest’ ones make so little as it is – a salary of $75 a month is almost unheard of in the camps. Why shouldn’t we be paying them as much as we possibly can?

The problem arises when we move to define “how much we possibly can.” All of our projects have different budgets. Some can afford to pay much higher salaries than others, some cannot. Paying too high of salaries now could deter future projects from being financially feasible, and decrease remaining budgets available to go towards the project’s goals. And of course, there is always the trade-off between paying more to your existing employees and providing more employment opportunities by hiring new staff at the existing salary rate.

How does one determine a fair wage rate in a vastly undeveloped economy, where people are willing to work for salaries that do not allow them to support their family? Already we pay more than the other NGOs in Meheba, and that fact is visible in the way our staff have become, for better or for worse, somewhat of the ‘upper crust’ of the community – a fact that is visible in the quality of their diets, their clothes, and their children’s educations. But even still, very few of our staff would ever be able to afford university on their salaries, and many would not be able to cover the costs of a major illness in their family. So while we’re very generous, circumstances are very limiting.

In the end, FORGE does not exist to be an employment agency. We exist to create results for the greater refugee community – in both the short term and long term. We are fortunate enough to be able to change the lives of our individual employees at the same time – by empowering them both financially and psychologically. But when we make decisions about how we are going to spend our limited funds, we have to make them based on the greatest impact we can create through our projects and programs. This of course means treating and compensating our staff as the invaluable partners that they are, while retaining our focus on the project’s impact.

There is no question that many of us are naturally bleeding hearts. What makes FORGE strong is our ability to harness the energy of this blood, transform it into sweat, and then to structure our efforts in such a way that our personal attachments and relationships are motivators but not distractors from long-impact of the greater movement.

Healing Wounds with Cans of Paint

I became fascinated by development issues in Africa when I was seventeen. Since then, I’ve thrown myself into the field, trying to gain as much experience as possible. Everywhere I turn, the general consensus has always been that to lift a community from poverty, there must be opportunities for education.

Last week, I saw the reverse sentiment firsthand. In order to keep a community down, it seems strategic to destroy their access to skill-development and educational opportunity.

My first full day in the Congolese town of Moba, I asked to see some of the local schools. Upon approach, I quickly saw that these schools were not the sub-basic school buildings with minimal equipment that I had grown used to in Zambia. Rather, these Congolese schools were proud symbols of the culture’s emphasis on education. I hope to be able to upload photos soon of these beautifully constructed brick buildings … architecture that served to celebrate the education that students had the opportunity to receive.

But when rebels took Moba in 1998, they destroyed the schools, burnt the books, smashed the desks, and killed the teachers. These beautiful institutions are shells of their past lives. Electricity has been cut, septic systems are backed up, and student numbers have decreased.

In a place where education represents hope, I can’t help but wonder...what is the psychological impact when hope's representation is physically destroyed?

Do students see the reminders of the schools of old? Or do they see only crumbling walls, bullet holes, and broken glass?

Are they inspired by rekindled optimism? Or are they haunted by memories of military oppression?

Will capable students rise up and lead their nation to prosperity? Or will they become frustrated again by ceaseless road blocks and let action fall by the wayside?

To me, the time to act for the future of Congo is NOW.

Panes of glass must be replaced. Desks must be rebuilt. Walls must be plastered and pipes must be cleared. School will resume session in a few months, with hundreds of students returning from exile, ready to rebuild.

Standing in the vast courtyard of Le Lycee Alfjiri and looking at what once was and what now remains, I have to ask: How far can physical reconstruction go towards fortifying a post-war nation’s psyche?

My first taste of "The Aftermath" - war, welcome, and staring out the window

We find ourselves in Congo, in the midst of this “post-conflict society.” Some of the 75,000 inhabitants of Moba hustle in different directions. The town sits on the shores of Lake Tanganyika in the south-eastern Katanga district of DRC. It’s been a long journey here –over 15 hours of bumpy roads to cover about 200 miles. The road between the border town of Pweto and the lakeport town of Moba should be a commercial thoroughfare. But instead it’s a road travelled by no more than a few vehicles a day, only crossable only by 4X4s and only in the dry season.

The drive offers a mini-tour of the various landscapes of central Africa – from dusty flatlands, we cross into dense forests, climb through craggy mountains, bounce over the tropical hills of Moba and finally reach the shores of Lake Tanganyika. It’s easy to stare out the window at the beautiful landscape and forget that this same land has represented so much terror and fear that many who left refuse to ever return.

At least once each hour, though, we’re jolted to face the reality of what dread had come before. Destroyed army tanks dot the path, stark and menacing reminders of rebel occupation that ruled the land for almost a decade. The looming shadow of the first tank we pass draws the breath from our lungs. But every 30 or so kilometers we would find another and another camouflaged tank, polluting the serenity and plaguing the villages.

Unlike these living testaments to the pathology of war, which thrive only on attacking and destroying, the Congolese people we’ve met so far are strongly committed to the opposite: uniting and rebuilding.

In the first day of our arrival, we are visited by dozens of people who had worked with FORGE in the camps, had taken part in our projects, or who knew people in the camps who had told them of FORGE and our coming.

This being FORGE’s first time to Congo, we had expected anonymity. But word travels fast here, especially when it has to do with opportunity and the future of the country. Everyone begs FORGE to come and work in Congo. We feel welcome and secure as we lay our heads down for some much-needed sleep.

Journey to DR Congo

What happens when refugees go home?

"And what happens when the war ends and they return to their home country?"

People often ask me this question when I discuss the lives of refugees. Whether they’re probing for results or compassionately wondering, people want to know exactly what happens when refugees' time in a refugee camp ends.

This year, FORGE will experience many of the answers to that question full-scale. A year after the successful, democratic election of DR Congo’s President Joseph Kabila, fighting has died down, the nation has begun to stabilize, and 40,000 Congolese refugees in Zambia are expected to return home.

The first convoys to leave have blended strong sentiments of excitement and fear. Wide smiles have been met by equally-wide frightened stares.

“They tell us we’re returning home, but we don’t know where home is.”

The Congolese refugees of Kala and Mwange camps have been in Zambia for about eight years. Their general strong will and enterprising spirit have helped develop bustling communities where there were previously none. In relationship to FORGE, the communities of Kala and Mwange have taken a hold of, utilized, and stretched every resource and opportunity we’ve worked to provide. They’re as much or more to credit for FORGE’s immense success as any western staff.

This is why we take it very seriously when the refugees implore us to join them in DR Congo, setting up FORGE operations in their permanent communities.

“The educational opportunities you bring us are worth more than any amount of money,” said Antoine Ngeleka, who I profiled in one of my previous blogs.

In that spirit, I’m about to embark on an exploratory mission into Congo. With fifty bottles of water and three hundred liters of diesel strapped to our Landcruiser, we’ll follow the same route taken by repatriating refugees: Kawambwa to Pweto, Pweto to Moba.

I doubt it matches theirs, but I have similar feelings of anticipation and trepidation, as do the refugees. How is the road? Is there food and clean water? Where can we stay? Will we be safe? Can we work in DR Congo? Will the communities want us?

You’ll hear from me soon.

Reflection Point

(Due to lack of internet preventing timely blog posting, this entry is from June 30th, 2007)

After a full 24 hours on a plane, I finally arrived in Zambia, the country that has been my second home for the past four years. Over the lifetime of FORGE, the growing complexity of our on-the-ground operations has required me to spend more and more time each year in Africa. Each year my time on the continent has extended by a month, last year reaching 6 months in-country.

But a funny thing happened this year, as FORGE reached a turning point. Our staff have become increasingly competent & knowledgeable, and our procedures and operations increasingly structured and stable. This year, beyond being available to give instructions, advice and answer questions, I am not physically needed to run our camp operations. Between our Camp Operations Coordinator Holly Hickling, our Zambian Operations Coordinator Robson Lungu, our Operations Director Nick Talarico, and our Project Managers and Team Coordinators and 80+ refugee staff, FORGE activities in all three camps are in great hands.

Thus, my role has been shifting – from direct implementation to overseeing execution, from on-the-ground action to laying the framework for action and empowering others to act.

It hasn’t been a painless shift. When founding FORGE, I didn’t dream about structuring an organization so much as I dreamt about the lives we would touch on both sides of the ocean. Today, I admittedly play a less direct role in the life-touching that is done by our on-the-ground staff, which now exceeds one hundred people. My job now is to coordinate, organize, and fundraise to make their work possible, and to listen, make adjustments, and fundraise to make it better. Naturally hands-on, I must continuously remind myself that this work is vital to FORGE’s success.

This trip, only to be a month long, is about expanding our impact. I will be exploring how and where FORGE will grow as the situation in the camps begins to shift. After this trip I will be returning to California in hopes of raising the funds necessary to continue and to grow. In the meantime I’m blessed with tireless staff that do whatever it takes to keep FORGEing ahead. The fact that they can do most of it without me bodes very well for FORGE (even if it does make me a tiny bit jealous…)

The Risktakers

(Due to lack of internet which prevented timely blog posting, this entry is from June 25th, 2007)

In my first post, I wrote about how the first people to sign on to FORGE’s mission and to support its creation were ultimately the people most critical to its success.

These founding members are a special breed – they must have a unique ability to conceptualize a better world and an incredible zeal to pursue it. They can taste the flavors of the world they want to live in, and they will work tirelessly to gather the ingredients and write the recipe necessary to create it. They are visionaries, yes, but more importantly they are risk-takers, ready to sacrifice and take chances for the sake of what they believe life should be.

Last week, the world lost one of these special people. Eric Tang was 25 years old when he lost his life jumping off a waterfall in Mexico, 2 months into a long-awaited year-long trek around Latin America.

Eric was special to FORGE because he was amongst the first few to commit to the vision, not only as a founding member but also as the force behind our first major initiative, the Meheba Friendly Library, which continues to serve thousands of refugees and Zambians each year.

But Eric was special to everything he touched because he was of that rare breed that consistently combine clarity of vision with swiftness of action, injecting new life into existing movements and sparking new movements along the way. Eric’s work with the Clean Money Campaign, Micro-finance initiatives, and African refugees will not soon be forgotten, nor will the thousands of other ways in which he touched people’s lives through infectious energy and zest for life.

In Eric’s spirit, I’d like to honor here the people who, like him, played a grand and critical role in the founding year of FORGE. So, to Taylor Ahlgreen, Naomi Gleit, Brandon Cohen, Christian Baxter, Eugenio Lopez, Karen & Joel Erickson, and other – THANK YOU. Like Eric’s, your spirit and work will remain indelible.