The data from the first round was messy because of the flaws in questionnaire design. In this fish value chain research, there was no way to find out how much fish is sold, how much cost is incurred and how much profit is made. That’s the reason we overhauled the questionnaire. That’s why we told the enumerators about the areas of weakness and how to avoid those. That’s why we prepared a checklist for the supervisors to scrutinize every questionnaire for accuracy. That’s why the research coordination team visited one research team after another to provide assistance.
But it’s the same story all over again. Too many incomplete questionnaires, too much inconsistency and a lot of room for suspicion that the data was not collected sincerely. This is absolutely undesirable when each enumerator is paid a handsome amount per day and are supposed to be supervised by experienced managers. My assessment is that this repeated failure to collect accurate data is not only a matter of capacity or design of the questionnaire. It is also about accountability and supervision. If the supervisors feel that they can get away without checking the questionnaires, the enumerators also get the signal that they can get away with whatever they produce. So, the payment for their work should be somewhat performance based in my view. And anybody who is doing the work needs to know that their performance will actually be assessed!
But it is not that easy to assess the performance of such activities. Yes, we can check each and every questionnaire for accuracy and completeness. But how would we know that the data is not fabricated? One solution is unexpected random visits during the work. In this case, the people in the field should know that there will be unexpected visits. Another solution could be to randomly call respondents whoever provided phone numbers to check whether they were really interviewed. Yet another solution could be the use of technology, which would make it difficult to fabricate. In fact, a combination of all available tools can make a project worthwhile.
But most importantly it requires sincerity of the key people managing the project. These key people should “own” the project that will make them determined to undertake such a difficult job. The job that often involves week after week of field visit, hundreds of miles on bad roads and unpleasant encounter with people.
Development in general is hard. It needs intelligent people with their hearts in the right place. I am not saying they don’t exist but often it is not easy to find them. So, it is the job of development leaders to find those people and put them on the right place to make a difference.
So, after substantially correcting the disorganized questionnaire from the first round, our second round of data collection for the fish value chain research has started. We are hopeful that this time the data will be more accurate and meaningful. But we needed to be vigilant about how authentically and correctly the data is being collected. It is not that we are undermining the capacity and sincerity of our enumerators. But it is also true that when supervision is sloppy, the resulting work is almost always poor. From my limited experience, I have gathered strong doubts about the effectiveness of data management in the development sector. May be this is one of the reasons why we have many more unsuccessful or “pseudo-successful” projects than the really successful ones.
The roads under construction from Mongu to Kalabo
Hence we hit the road. We are using the makeshift “so-called” road from Mongu to another district headquarter Kalabo. Kalabo is situated on the other side of Zambezi, beyond the floodplain. Making a road across the floodplain is extremely challenging. Previous two attempts actually failed. Currently the Chinese are executing a $250 million project. People in the floodplain villages and in Kalabo are crossing their fingers that this project will not have the same fate. The road will open up enormous trading opportunities for the fishers to trade their fish directly with the traders, avoiding the middlemen. These middlemen are locally known as casinos, who keep the fishers hostage to buy fish at a ridiculously low price and make an excessive profit. The roads will enable fishers to bring their fish to any part of the road instead of a handful of docking points. This dispersion of the trading points will hopefully prevent these casinos from controlling the trade anymore.
Fisher trying to sell the fish to passengers in the boats passing through their village
However, just after 10-15 miles from the Mongu harbor, I was surprised to see verdant and rich soil on both side of the road. I asked my Zambian companion how is it possible. Because I heard that Western Province is actually a part of the Kalahari Desert and thus full of sand. He told me that every year flood brings a lot of alluvia and make the soil fertile in many parts of the floodplain. Then I asked why it is not cultivated. He told me that most of the land belongs to the people who live upland and if a local farmer wants to cultivate it, the owner will create problems. It seems like the concept of sharecropping is absent in this region. As a result this vast fertile land is lying fallow. The land is full of potentials to produce all-types of winter vegetable to meet the nutritional demand in Barotseland. But virtually the only available vegetable here is rape, a kind of spinach. Well, you cannot eat potential. Can you?
We reached Kalabo at noon after a very jerky trip. It is a district headquarter, but there is almost nothing going on here and it has a certain kind of sleepy quality written all over on it. We checked some of the questionnaires collected by one of the data collectors. Despite indicating the mandatory questions in block letters, and despite a 4-day long training, she did not fill in some of those questions. We explained to her again what to do and instructed her to go back and fill in those mandatory questions, with no idea if she would really do it. Later on we went to the fish market. Almost all the traders were women. When we asked how they preserved their fish, they replied that there is no way. Potentially they can make better profit if they use ice as the fish will remain fresh for much longer period. They said that they would definitely buy ice if it is available. The enthusiastic DoF secretary in Kalabo who accompanied us instantly decided to produce ice in her home and sell it to them. Let’s see what happens.
Next day, our destination was Senanga, another district headquarter. We were in a mission to find out what the data collector based there was up to. Our research coordinator tried to reach him over the phone for last two days with no luck. It was quite suspicious. We had to track him down in his home. He was not at all happy to see us on the Saturday morning. We had to wait for 10 minutes before he got on the car grumpily. We went to his office and checked the questionnaires. The quality of data was extremely disappointing. Again he did not fill in many of the mandatory fields. Our project coordinator was strongly suspecting that the data “have been cooked under the mango tree”. But I wanted to give him the benefit of doubt. Later we decided that we will randomly call some of the respondents who provided their cell phone numbers in the questionnaires to check if they have been really interviewed.
I hate to mistrust people. But as I said before, lack of supervision can make people lazy and often dishonest. But proper supervision in development sector faces several challenges including misalignment of incentives at different levels of a project implementation, lack of motivation of the supervisors themselves and physical challenges including remoteness of the project site. Lack of supervision and effective management are some of the reasons why potentials rarely become real.
My field experience is increasingly making me think hard how we can overcome this obstacle, how we can make use of technology in supervision. If we can develop an online platforms where people can work offline with simple electronic devices and be constantly monitored and supervised by automated central systems, it may be possible. Online tools like Formhub (https://formhub.org/) offers some glimpse of how the future of automated and low-cost effective development might look like. I am hopeful. The little girl in Kalabo who gave me a heavenly smile before I left reminded me that we must remain hopeful.
I am not an adventure traveler. Adrenaline rush is never strong enough to persuade me to take up those crazy activities like Bungee jumping and white water rafting. I like to take in the beauty of nature, the sight, sound and smell, to enjoy the local cuisine and culture and to befriend the local people. But in recent days I have sadly found that the wow factor is disappearing, particularly when I am visiting a touristy place. Now a days, before going somewhere, I do too much online research, read too many reviews, and see too many spectacular photos and videos. I guess it creates in me an unrealistic expectations about the place. And I get slightly disappointed when I actually go there.
Victoria Falls is, of course, an overwhelming experience, but not an unexpected one. It was high-water season and the sprays from the falls were so dense that it was impossible to see the details most of the times, which was a little disappointing. Besides, nearby Livingstone town is quite developed and touristy, without any particular character or charm. It was definitely a memorable trip but I probably won’t get dreamy thinking about it.
However, Ngonye falls may fit the bill. A friend suggested that we could stop by at these small falls on our way back from Livingstone to Mongu. It is a small community-managed park. And if you don’t know, you would most probably drive by the entrance without even noticing. When we arrived at the reception, we did not find anybody but a single person managing the park. He was our guide too. The falls were situated at a good half an hour walk away. Just beyond the trees at the edge of the sandy backyard of the reception, we landed on a strange terrain made up of ancient chunks of hard rocks, with water flowing underneath. The stones were smooth like butter in many places, perhaps the work of water for thousands of years. It felt like walking on the moon! We jumped over a crystal-clear stream flowing through the rocks.
The little stream, with big shadowy trees on both sides, in this exotic land gave a funny feeling in my stomach. And the sudden appearance of a Cobra completed the bizarre dreamy feeling. Our guide sprinted and shouted when he saw the Cobra crossing his path. We quickly scrambled up the taller rocks to be safe. He tried to beat the Cobra away; and we crossed the place shaking with fear.
The journey itself was exotic enough. But when we reached the edge of the river, I was speechless. Ngonye falls are not tall and wide like the Victoria. They are not even any close. But they are actually a combination of eight different small falls forming a huge half-circle, all of them joining the Zambezi with grace. It was amazing to look at every direction to find a wild waterfall. The absolute absence of civilization, the wildness of the water and the strangeness of the rocks behind were truly mesmerizing. After a very long time, I had that ecstatic sensation. WOW, really!!! And I made a selfish plea to Ngonye. Please remain as you are, an undiscovered beauty.
Though rural life is somewhat romanticized by townsfolk, in reality it can rather be nightmarish for them. In a few days they would start feeling empty to be away from all the hustle-bustle and glittering lifestyle of their cities. And if the concerned village is in an unfortunate corner of South Asia or Africa, the pain starts from the very first day. Either there’s no electricity or there are long and frequent power-cuts. Almost all amenities of modern life are absent. There’s no running water, let alone hot water. The best available toilet is a hole dug on the ground, surrounded by thatch, where people need to squat on. Forget about hygiene, squatting itself can be quite painful for a person not in good physical shape. If roads are non-existent and people have meager purchasing power, even the varieties of food available can be woefully boring.
Mapungu is a perfect example. When we arrived Mapungu by a boat, the sun was already setting. People standing at the docking point clapped their hands twice at each of us, a gesture of politeness, and murmured Muchwani, meaning “how are you”, with a broad smile. We replied “Hande” – I am fine, and clapped back. We found a vacant government house to take shelter. There was no power. The women teammates immediately started cooking in the dark; the men created a bonfire and started chatting while waiting for food. The women served food to the men first (and also to us, cause we were foreigners!) and ate whatever was left behind. Ironclad gender roles, with no hope of change in sight.
In the morning, we met the President. He tried to run for US presidential election and he should have been at least the Zambian president. But unfortunately he lives in a 10 feet by 5 feet palace that he made from scrap metal and wood he found on the street. But he neatly decorated his statehouse with papers and books he collected, and there’s a little corner where he sits down to perform his stately affairs. He lives on piecework, guarding people’s house when they are out and washing their clothes. But he is an avid reader of newspapers and talks like a well-educated person. He has a childlike curiosity and an innocent smile. He kept us amused for the rest of our stay. Every time a kid passed by him, it would shout at him, OBAMA!!!
However, we were in Mapungu to conduct a meeting with the community on the progress they made on a set of “dreams” that they created a year ago. There are two volunteer community facilitators in the village to mobilize the community in working towards the dreams. The meeting started at least one hour later than the scheduled time, a usual scenario here. When the facilitators started asking about their dreams, some villagers began protesting that they didn’t know anything about it! Most of the conversation was in Lozi, the language of the Western province. So I could not catch most of it. But I had a feeling that the community mobilization was not going very well. Later on, groups of villagers made presentation about their progress. They claimed that the came up with “bylaws” for fish conservation and at least 75% of the fishers in the village stopped illegal fishing. Sounds encouraging, but I tend not to take these verbal claim seriously. Because, without proper external evaluation, it is hard to say what really happened. Besides, I felt the level of community mobilization, mentoring support and supervision to the facilitators were not enough to have such a big change anyway. But it is a research project. Perhaps the idea is to find out how such loose models actually work in the field.
I was already getting sad about the food. The tendency of the people in this region is to deep fry everything, fish, chicken, beef, you name it. Our menu was limited to a combination of fried fish, fried country chicken, rape (a kind of spinach, virtually the only variety of vegetable available here) and maize meal. I guess here people fry and add a lot of salt in their food out of boredom with the lack of variety. But I was alarmed to think about the potential consequences of such an unhealthy habit. May be development practitioners also need to focus on food habit. But who does not know that food habits are hard to die?
Next day we had a similar meeting in a nearby village named Muandi. The floodwater was receding. So the only means of communication was walking on the sand. It was an hour long walk but my feet were aching. Walking on the sand is not easy. I couldn’t imagine how people travel from that village on a daily basis. What happens if someone n Continue reading “Experiencing the Rural Life in Barotse Floodplain”→
I learned about value chain analysis and the whole business of “making markets work for the poor” in my first job in Bangladesh. I think I also developed an understanding about how hard it is to make market work for the poor. Probably I shouldn’t have started in such a pessimistic tone. But I feel it is better to be aware of the limitation of a tool before starting to use it. And again, I don’t want to say this approach cannot be used as a means of poverty reduction. But we need to balance between market and other approaches whenever necessary.
Nevertheless, value chain analysis is certainly an instructive tool to pinpoint the key problems in different parts of the supply chain that prevent poor people to benefit. It eventually helps to design targeted actions to fix those specific issues. My assignment here in Mongu is to participate in a research on the Barotse Floodplain fish value chain.
When we arrived in Mongu, the first round of data collection was already complete. The questionnaire designed to collect different value chain information including fisher/trader profile, fish species, products, prices, costs, trade channels and the enabling environment was very long. Besides, the informal nature of the business and varied measures and methods of transactions that are in place presented several challenges to collecting the correct information, particularly in the area of price and quantity.
Fishers and traders use different measures of volumes to sell their products. They do not use weight. So there is an element of inaccuracy built-in as fish size, shape and dryness will determine exactly how much fish goes in one container. Again, the standard bowls used for selling fish can be just full or cramped and heaped. Different types of containers are used to measure different types of fish. How do we get consistent measure? To further complicate the problem, there are several species of fish. The price of fish varies by the species and by size of the fish within the same species. Price also depends on the channel that is used for selling. How many options can we include without frustrating the data collectors and the respondents? All these complicated issues rendered some of the first round data not so useful.
However, in the analysis workshop in which all the data collectors participated, we had a long discussion on how to standardize the measure and how to deal with the species-size-measure complexity to get the closest estimate. Based on the discussion, we designed the questionnaire for the second round, which we are hoping to pretest in next week. I am praying that the questionnaire will pass! We also need to find out the best way to input the enormous data set. Excel is not suitable for inputting such a large amount of data in the same row. I am planning to use Formhub for easier input. But I found some issues with data output from Formhub. I am thinking about consulting with Modi Research group for some advice.
My learning from first few weeks is that designing a questionnaire may seem a straightforward task, but actually it is not easy, particularly if we need to gather compex market information. A great deal of effort and time needs to be invested to devise a questionnaire that works!
The specialty of Mongu is sand. When we entered Mongu, the capital of the Western Province of Zambia, we did not find anything special about this place. It is exactly like a typical district town of an ex-colonial developing country; broken roads and single-storied tin-roofed houses. But when we took the smaller roads from the main roads, we found it is all sand. Even the yards of the houses are full of sand. Our office is literally a block away from where we live. But we have to walk there in ankle-deep sand. I stopped using my shoes and sneakers. I would always wear my sandals and every time I would enter the house or the office, I will shake me feet vigorously to jerk the sand away.
I guess Mongu is full of sand as it is at the edge of the Barotse floodplain. A five-minute drive took us to the harbor from where we could see nothing but water and the sky. We took a boat to meet the communities we are going to work with. As we moved along, children and adults alike, in boats and islands, smiled at us and waved their hands. Perhaps it was the only exciting part in their event-less day. The rainy season has just passed and the water is still deep and crystal clear. On both sides, the islands are green with some kind of grass and are full of different species of birds. In most islands, there are a few flimsy fishermen’s huts. In some of the islands, there were herds of cattle. Every now and then, we passed a canoe curved out of a whole tree trunk.
Everything was so pristine and picturesque, yet the grueling life of these island dwellers was apparent. Lack of infrastructure, schools, hospitals and livelihoods options must make their life very hard. I was also thinking about the challenges of working with such marginal communities in such a difficult environment. It reminded me of the marginal fishermen in Northeastern Bangladesh living in a similar, perhaps more difficult, environment. We wanted to do something for that vulnerable community there. But we failed to develop any meaningful project that would not need substantial financial support and change in government policies and politics. Eventually we gave up. I was hoping that this will not be the case here.
The first fishing camp that we landed at had a church, a few mud and grass houses, men, women and a number of children, mostly girls. Later on we learned that the fishermen support the education of their boy children as long as they can. And most of the boys live far away from the communities for their education. That is why the islands are so full of girls! It was a Sunday morning, so many people were still in the church. We met the leader of the fishermen’s camp, who was already drunk by this time. Fishermen would spend a good chunk of their income on alcohol. In the island we also met two women fish traders who trade only dry fish. They do not trade fresh fish as it needs more capital and often paddling the channels for hours to find a buyer. On average they make a profit of 4 to 6 dollars per day.
After a brief visit of the island we got on board again and kept moving towards the Zambezi. I was mesmerized by the beauty of nature, thousands of birds basking in the wetlands, small wooden canoes carrying fish, passengers and all necessary goods, and clarity of the water and the blue sky. We also came across a hippo! It was peeping from under the water. We learned that hippos create a lot of trouble for the fishermen here by tearing the fishing nets. After all, we are in Africa! Finally we reached the Great Zambezi, a vast sheet of water with islands on both sides.
Now it was time to go back. The sunset was magnificent and the dusk hovered around the horizon for a very long time. The soft mystic light accompanied us until the first stars were out. I came back home, tired but composed. I hope I can make some contribution, no matter how small, in the lives of the people living in this beautiful region.
The reason I like to stay in backpacker’s is of course monetary. But another strong reason is to meet cool people, have fun and make friends. Lebo’s place in Soweto is full of fun, particularly in the evening. In this winter months, a fire in the outside sitting area keeps it warm and cozy with a very good selection of jazz and reggae. I met here a playful and pretty German girl with strong Aussi accent. She works in Soweto with HIV infected kids and is trying to break the societal inhibition against HIV by bringing together HIV and Non-HIV kids. She’s planning a documentary to be made by these kids. I gave her some ideas how she could raise fund for this project. She seemed excited!
Then there’s this Manchester guy who took a long bus trip from Malawi to save some money. He too, like me, is a “development practitioner”. We chatted by the fire about Jeffry Sachs, Paul Farmer, state of the word, sustainability and the hypocrisy of the development practitioners, so and so forth. We chatted about our hard luck in finding a job in this tough economy where development money is quick to dry out. We don’t need Wall Street salary, but come on, at least we need roof on our heads, food to eat and couple of trips here and there. We sincerely empathized with each other even though we did not even learn each other’s names!
It is hard to forget the captivating African dance of the beautiful and carefree French girl by the fire. She works as a waitress in a part of France and when she could save enough money, she quits her job and travels around Africa. With a cider in my hand, I watched her body move with the ancient African beats as I talked with the sweet-nature German girls who worked in a rural part of South Africa for one year after finishing their high-school. They just finished their volunteer job and are travelling a bit.
The German gentleman in Lebo’s was little reserved in the beginning, a stereotypical demeanor befitting a German. But then he started talking. Slowly but with lots of wits and humor. He is a leftist politician from Germany, traveling to Johannesburg with a comrade to organize an African youth leadership conference. He does similar activities in Nepal too. After few hours of conversation, he asked me whether my marriage was a “love marriage” and if it had an arranged component. I laughed hard and we became very friendly.
His name is Thomas. He shared numerous stories – techniques of drinking beer from a five-litter boot shaped glass, getting lost in the rural Nepal with his wife, and his grandsons aged 2 and 4. I don’t know the truth behind, but Thomas and his comrade Iyrin, (and I believe many other leftist Europeans, too!) are convinced that HIV was accidentally created by USA while they were secretly trying to develop biological weaponry! Is that funny? I don’t know. I felt that this serious-looking gentleman was actually warm and child-like who liked to have several servings of Ice-cream after dinar. When we departed, my friend Le gave him a hug and said to him that he was the funniest German man she ever met! He began to smile and she said “not so quick. You are the second German man I ever met!”
While we found the Joburgers to be friendly and fun-loving, Lusaka people in the beginning seemed a little somber and aloof. The people at the Kalulu backpackers seemed little less enthusiastic. But despite this and the lack of hand-washing soap in the bathrooms, I had a great evening talking with a Harvard PHD student of applied physics who is doing his research on developing low-cost rapid diagnostic medical assessment technologies. I also met a KIVA volunteer working on how to have high impact on the lives of the borrowers of KIVA fund. Who knows why these backpacker’s hostels are the meeting places of liberals, leftists and those apparently concerned (like me!) about poverty and sustainability? May be because they don’t have money! Whatever the reason is, it is fun.
Lusaka is a beautiful city with big trees and, now a days, big brands and huge shopping malls. I wouldn’t believe that the per capita income of this vast country is less than $500 if I landed in Lusaka without knowing it! Most of the trees are so familiar to me, they are so much like those of my homeland. But Lusaka is much nicer than Dhaka I admit. Unfortunately perhaps any city is nicer than Dhaka in recent times. I was stupid to forget my camera charger in New York. So I went to a spotless brand new shopping mall to get one and I paid about $75 for my stupidity. Most of the manufactured products are imported here and are super expensive. I wondered how people beyond the small expat communities and the urban middle-class survive in this poor country. I had a glimpse as I came out of the air-conditioned shopping malls – jobless youth sitting by the streets. Their empty eyes wrenched my heart.
Then in Livingstone, the town beside the Victoria Falls, we met a Korean girl and I learned that she worked in Dhaka for two years as a volunteer! She worked right beside my parents’ house! She was travelling alone. So we tagged her along in our falls trip. In the evening we cooked noodle and soup, ate together and became friends! We also met a couple of travelers from New York. One of them studied at Columbia! Small word, huh! I guess it is a small world for the well-connected people like us because the number of such people is not very huge. And the world is small in a different way for the people like that Zimbabwean, who was trying to sell cliché craft to me on the falls bridge. He told me that he felt like jumping of the bridge and finishing his life in the gorge in desperation. I gave him ten Kwacha and he thanked me several times for saving his life!
I am back to Lusaka again. And it’s the end of my “fun” trip and start of work. I am travelling to the western province of Zambia tomorrow where I will be based for next three months. The head office of the organization I’m working with is in a green suburb of Lusaka. I went out for lunch and found an inviting café. I went in and sat in the breezy porch for a sandwich. I don’t know why I had this strange uncomfortable feeling as the delicious Panini melted in my mouth in the very western café full of smart people, locals and expats. I wondered if I could do anything to make the world of the people like that Zimbabwean craft seller a little bigger. I hope so. I hope so.