What is Poverty?

Abungamuri is a wealthy man. He is head of his 30-member family and lives in a mud compound about 25 km from the closest town, Navrongo. He has at least three wives and his sons also have multiple wives. He has a heap load of cows, land, crops and family. But he, and all the members of his household, live on less than $1 per day – the definition of extreme poverty.

Michael is also a wealthy man. He lives in the town of Paga and has a full gym, flat screen TV, rocking stereo system, countless movies, etc. He works for the Ghanaian government installing water towers, is unmarried, and has a level of disposable income that is rarely found in Ghana. However, his home is a single concrete room, with one small barred window, no running water, a shared shower and latrine, and flaking green wall paint.

So why do I call these men wealthy? And what is poverty anyway?

They are wealthy because both Michael and Abungamuri chose their lifestyles and are being adequately compensated for work they enjoy and excel at.

Now I’ve only been here two weeks, but so far it seems there are only two ways to be rich in Ghana: 1. You’re VERY hard working and really good at farming; or 2. You are fortunate to be born into a family with connections and/or money for post secondary education and you are smart enough to get one of the few high paying jobs.

So what about everyone else? Imagine for a minute that you only have those two options open to you. What if you wanted to be an architect, start your own company, or become a chef? Sorry, you’re a farmer.

Doing something you don’t really want to, that doesn’t pay all that well, so that you can keep you and your family fed, clothed and educated: that is a lack of opportunity; that is poverty.

Here is where you ask me “But Ashley, what can I do to help Africans rise out of poverty?” Well, I definitely don’t have a full answer for you, and I might come up with something completely different tomorrow but here is what I’m thinking right now.

Do you work at a company that has overseas operations?

If the answer is yes, I think the single greatest thing you can do is have your company hire locals. And you say “But we already DO hire locals.” Well then take it one step further and have the entire overseas operation run by locals: CEOs, managers, labourers, financial analysts, everything. Give the folks overseas more opportunities for entrepreneurship and varied employment.

If the answer is no, well, I haven’t figured that out yet. I’ll get back to you.

P.S. Feel free to comment!

Becoming a Villager

This time of year is known as No-Quie-Ah: the end of the rainy season, before the Harmatan winds blow in, and the busiest time for farmers who must harvest their crops and prepare for the dry season.

Last week I had the amazing opportunity to spend three days in a rural village in upper east Ghana with a family of subsistence farmers. I really wanted to know what life is like for someone who has no electricity or running water and must produce all the food they need to stay alive. Because my work with Engineers Without Borders is to help farmers make more money, I felt it was vital I understand the challenges they face.

So, it turns out village life is a lot of hard work and as hard as I tried, I really couldn’t cut it as a farmer. I was exhausted after five minutes of working the Shea butter when a girl half my age stepped in and worked tirelessly for two hours. I pounded millet but could do nothing but watch as the women expertly separated the grains from their shells with a couple of large bowls. I was okay at harvesting peanuts, but then, so were the toddlers who sat beside me. I tried to weed the rice fields but was sent back to the peanuts as I kept getting stuck in the mud. The men humoured me as I tried to weed the corn fields mostly because it is unusual to see a woman doing such a task. The clothes I washed with a bucket and bar soap did not get clean. And it took three days, but I finally managed to carry water on my head – they had to give me a bucket with a lid.

The perception is that white folk are too weak to live a village life. After my adventure, I have to agree with them. All their water came from a murky pond (lily pads and all) nearby. They drank it straight. I had to filter it through my t-shirt (I’m told it removes larvae and the eggs that cause worms) then add a bunch of chemicals until it tasted like mouldy pool water. For the most part I chose dehydration as my preferred alternative.

But my host family made the work fun and the pool water bearable. At night, I sat with the women and girls to tell stories, sing and dance. I learned that the scars people have on their face, stomach and back are markings unique to the community they are from, a tradition that was started during slavery so you could always find your family if you managed to escape. I was asked “Is it very different in your place?” and talked about washing machines, apartment buildings, and huge farms that feed millions of people who don’t know how to grow food. I also contributed a rendition of House of the Rising Sun (for mom) and Take It Easy (for dad) but I’m afraid I could not compete with the talent and excitement of their traditional songs and dances.

Despite the fact that I make a pretty lousy farmer, spending those three days in the village is one of the best things I’ve ever done. I know I will think back to my stay every day of my life and be inspired by the hard work, kindness, generosity and sprit of the people I met.

I hope I can alter the western perspective of what it means to be African. Those children we know from the World Vision commercials with the extended bellies and flies landing on their heads were instead running around laughing and playing pretty much all the time and they absolutely loved it when I started making funny faces with them. Yes, there is illness, hardship and a serious lack of opportunity for entrepreneurs but there is also immense happiness, family and community, ambition, love, and hope for what the future will bring.

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