Hope Makes All the Difference

I spent last Saturday at the Cultural Survival Bazaar selling jewelry for Project Have Hope in support of its work with a group of women in the Acholi Quarter of Uganda. Man, was that some easy selling! I wish I had taken a picture of the setup: two tables covered in baskets brimming with brightly-colored earrings and bracelets, surrounded by stands hung with equally vibrant strands of beaded necklaces. Nearly everyone who passed by was drawn in; most immediately thrust a hand into one of the piles of bangles or slowly reached out to run a finger along a necklace, hypnotized as it swung slowly in the breeze. Most were also shocked to feel the lightness of the jewelry – each bead is hand-made from scrap paper collected from a local printing press by the women who make up Project Have Hope. The rainbow of colors comes from the paper itself, with each piece being made even more vibrant by a coat of clear varnish. 

 

The first time I saw these beads, they were on the wrist of Project Have Hope’s founder, Karen Sparacio at a “Social Change-Up” networking event put on by the New Prosperity Initiative. It took about five minutes of conversation for me to buy into her vision. She seeks to empower the women of the Acholi Quarter in Uganda through a comprehensive set of programs including vocational and literacy training, microloans, and agricultural development. Additionally, PHH helps arrange one-on-one sponsorship of children from the Acholi Quarter to attend good schools and provides for their daily needs beyond tuition. Karen made it clear that it was important to her that the organization helps the women become self-sufficient and that their own work funds the programs. PHH does not just throw money at a problem, but helps the Ugandan women take their future into their own hands. Later, as I read more about Project Have Hope on its website, I was even more impressed by the carefully thought-out, complementary set of initiatives that really treats the women and their community with respect.

By the end of our conversation that first night, I was drowning Karen in offers of help, with a level of enthusiasm that probably seemed strange to her. “I have a business degree! If you ever need anything, just call!” I couldn’t immediately figure out what had led to such an over-zealous reaction. Project Have Hope definitely falls into my sweet-spot of organizations I get excited about. Her work seeks to empower a group of marginalized women by educating them and giving them the tools they need to create their own success. But there was something more. After thinking over our interaction, I realized that I had been responding to Karen’s energy: she seemed exhausted.

Not that Karen lacks energy. She needs plenty to in order to accomplish everything she does. She is the only American staff member of Project Have Hope, yet bead sales (which mostly occur here) accounted for nearly $150,000 in revenues to be reinvested in the women and programs last year. (The rest of the staff is Ugandan, which is another thing I love about this organization: the Ugandan women are not just beneficiaries, they are leaders, too.) Karen did this with the aid of volunteers and interns, but while simultaneously supporting herself with her work as a professional photographer; she does not make any money from her work with PHH [note: Karen just let me know that she does now make a very small salary for her work with PHH, although she continues to support herself with her photography].

When she talked about the women who were now running their own businesses and putting their children into good schools, she showed a real passion and enthusiasm for the work. Her eyes lit up when discussing possibilities for the future of the venture and where she saw it going; however, she didn’t talk about it like someone who had started a non-profit because she just liked helping people. She talked about her work as though she had to do it. She had met these women who had been displaced from their homes by war, heard their stories and needed to help them. In the beautiful beads they made, she saw the seed of a potential solution and before she knew what was happening, Project Have Hope had taken on a life of its own. It was that kind of energy I was so drawn to and I hope to continue to support however I can.

You can read more about Project Have Hope in its annual report, which is full of Karen’s beautiful photographs or you can buy some beads for yourself here.

Café Liga Masiva: This Is Why I Started a Blog!

I started this blog so that I could share the great stories I have been encountering recently. Right now, I need to tell you the story of Liga Masiva coffee and why I think their work is so important.

I started getting this coffee shipped to me last fall. I had read about the start-up on a list of gifts-with-a-purpose somewhere and decided to give it a try. For about the same price I would be paying in a store for good coffee, I would get a bag of fresh-roasted, organic, direct-trade Dominican coffee mailed to me monthly with the promise that I'd be brewing "a cup of coffee that's changing the world." How, you might ask, is Liga Masiva accomplishing that? By bypassing commodity markets, giving a fair price to farmers in the Dominican Republic and selling directly to US consumers.
I read through the website and was really impressed by the story behind the company as well as its model and, above all else, its message. Liga Masiva was founded by an American woman, Emily Kerr, who had spent years working in the Dominican Republic with farmers. She saw the problems caused by coffee prices that rose and fell unpredictably, as well as how much the farmers lost because their coffee passed through so many hands, each exchange skimming a portion of the end-price consumers were willing to pay.
The solution she created is completely centered around the power of people and connections (and great coffee). Liga Masiva works directly with small-holder organic farmers, so they can make well-founded claims about the origin and quality of their coffee (which is fantastic). They sell directly to their customers, so they can communicate the effect their purchases make: Liga Masiva farmers are making 168% more this year than they did last, and the company has just started its work. They educate the farmers on pricing and supply chain, and they make long-term buying commitments. In all of this, I see Liga Masiva's commitment to balancing the power in the relationships that farmers have with buyers.
There are many reactions to the plight of small-holder farmers that I respect, but this particular one moved me. Liga Masiva represents a belief in the power of connecting people that is strong enough to be the foundation for a whole company. Liga Masiva truly trusts that people care enough about others to buy this coffee instead of going to the grocery store. This idea is really important to me, so I signed up for a monthly shipment. The first bag arrived with a guide, featuring brewing tips and facts about the coffee printed on cardboard coasters and a tag that read, "The better we all do, the better we all do." I was hooked.
When I signed up, I was a grad student without an income, but I needed to vote for the values Liga Masiva represents and the work they are doing. I couldn't do much, but I could buy a bag a month and share the occasional link on Facebook and Twitter. From working at a non-profit theater, I knew that the subscribers are the ones who believe in the mission, so I wanted to show my support. (And once I tried the coffee, I just wanted to keep drinking it. It is seriously good coffee.)
Then yesterday, a brown envelope arrived in the mail from a New York address I didn't recognize. It was a hand-written note from Emily, thanking me for being a subscriber. That, right there, is the kind of connecting that drives Liga Masiva. Job or no job, I will continue to vote for it.
[She also included $5 discount cards for people I think are awesome. Let me know if you want to try this great coffee.]

Wringing the Sponge

I like to talk. About almost anything. At length. When I come across new ideas or have important decisions to make, I need to talk about them. Luckily, I have lots of friends and family who also like to talk, which leads to lots of very interesting (to me, at least) conversations. What it doesn’t lead to is a record of all these ideas and conversations. Hence, a blog. Why now? Because I once again find myself in sponge mode. Let me explain.
When I left grad school: round one, I had a shiny new degree in theoretical math that employers found impressive on an equally theoretical level. They were less impressed with my practical skills, so I ended up temping as the administrative assistant in an office of executive suites. During the month I spent there, I got pulled in as a mock-interview subject for a workshop on DiSC profiling. It turned into such a lively conversation afterward (I told you I like to talk) that I ended up meeting the workshop participants for dinner and drinks that evening.
One of the participants was a consultant in change-management and I spent a while talking to him about the transition from grad school to whatever was going to come next. I found that I was totally in love with the world and its infinite possibilities. I wanted to read every book, newspaper, magazine, website and even fortune cookie that I came across. I wanted to listen to the radio and watch movies at the same time. I wanted to hear everyone’s life story from beginning to end and then turn around and tell everyone else what I had just heard. The consultant laughed and me and told me it was normal. At a time of transition, I was turning into a sponge and trying to soak up as much of its potential and promise as I could before committing to a new path.
Unfortunately, I didn’t write anything down then. I had spent the last five years studying math and essays did not come easily. Now, as I leave business school - which I affectionately refer to as “writing boot-camp” - I find myself in sponge mode once again, but this time I’m keeping a record! This time, I am meeting way too many fascinating people doing huge, wonderful things not to share the conversations. So here it is, a blog. I can’t promise I will update as much as I should, but this first post is a massive victory for me. And I am an optimistic sponge…

[I posted this two days ago on a Tumblr blog of the same name, but then I decided I like the blogspot setup better.]