So many great, honest quotes from John Githongo, who works on good governance in Kenya, from a November 2012 interview with the Economist about corruption in Kenya (that I wish I’d seen earlier but is still worth sharing):
A drought is made by God, a famine is made by man. Drought is big money for the corrupt elite—because it gives you the opportunity to import maize and other staples into the country and make a killing off of the backs of hungry people.
The key implication from his words is that imported maize (corn) and other crops are actually cheaper by weight than crops grown locally in Kenya, because agriculture (including fertilizers, pesticides, and good seeds) is often more subsidized in the US, the EU, and in other developed countries than in Kenya. As a result, political elites can make large profits fairly easily, in the name of helping people. This is more than just a problem of Kenyan political corruption, and probably wouldn’t change even if the level of corruption went down.
Kenya is more corrupt than other African countries. It’s our history. At independence, the state that emerged was a colonial one in many respects – small, aggressive, violent and engineered to serve the interests of only a small elite. Corruption can create an elite which creates a system of patronage that in itself produces a level of stability, where the goodies are being shared out by an elite, and a bit of it trickles down to the poor. Those poor who complain are locked up or killed, and that’s the way it has been for a long time.
I was surprised by this one, both for its honesty and its conclusions. China and its investors have been linked to corruption and exploitation in Africa, and particularly because they target mineral extraction and other resource-intensive industries. Extraction of rare earth metals and fuel result in huge profits but usually require well-educated [foreign] specialists; as a result, very few locals benefit in terms of jobs or payoffs unless contracts explicitly require paying a significant portion of profits to the community. Governments are often hesitant to set strict profit-sharing demands, though, for fear of scaring away investors.
But Kenya isn’t exactly at the center of the diamond, oil, natural gas, copper, coal, and other mineral extraction in Africa, even if the amount extracted is no longer zero. At the same time, Kenyan firms are said to devote 4% of all their sales income on bribes–enough to be hiring 250,000 new employees if the corruption were to stop. And Kenya isn’t actually the worst, according to many sources (though it’s hard to figure out exactly who is worst):
The World Bank’s CPIA Index on government transparency, accountability, and corruption surprisingly ranked Bhutan, St. Lucia, and the Cape Verde islands as having the worst corruption in 2011 (of the countries they were able to rank).
Transparency International, in contrast, ranked Somalia, North Korea, and Afghanistan as tied for worst corruption in 2012.
Regardless of exactly how corrupt Kenya and other developing countries are measured to be, it is in everyone’s best interest to improve.
Update: For an interesting take on the cultural/psychological/sociological reasons behind perpetuated corruption, especially in developing countries, see Kathleen Reedy’s freshly pressed post on corruption in Afghanistan.
One of my biggest surprises during the trip to Perú was how much I enjoyed Machu Picchu. I’d come there expecting a relatively small archeological site, enough to see for an hour or two but not much more. After spending about 5 hours getting sunburnt and hiking on a broken toe, I still found it hard to leave. The ruins were massive, and the terraces (built both for structural support/erosion prevention and for planting crops) descended all the way down the length of the Macchu Picchu mountain (“old peak” in Quechua) into the valley. It still amazes me to this day how they were able to build such structures, much less descend and ascend to plant and harvest potatoes and other crops (I doubt llamas would have had a much easier time than humans).
There was something eerily beautiful about the blue-green mountains cropping up from the Urubamba Valley (the Sacred Valley of the Incas), with the Urubamba River meandering below and eventually flowing into the Amazon. It made me wonder what those people who had lived there in Inca times thought of their surroundings–did they ever tire of seeing the same mountains? Did they–or anyone else–grow immune to the beauty? How can someone train themselves to not take such things for granted?
In huge contrast to the lush trees, bushes, and flowers (with vines and epiphytes growing between branches) growing by Machu Picchu, the southern coast of Perú is anything but. With the Humboldt current rising up from Antarctica and bringing cool air currents up the coast, the coastal [Atacama] desert in southern Perú and northern Chile isn’t as hot as the Sahara or Arabian deserts, but it’s much drier (in fact, the world’s driest; we didn’t see so much as a cactus). We went sandboarding and rented sand buggies (think 1000-ft-sand-dunes-like-a-roller-coaster-but-real-life) at sunset; I probably wouldn’t ever ride a sand buggy again for fear of a heart attack, but it was completely worth doing once. Apparently, there are even dance parties held at night deeper in the desert, under a blanket of stars.
With the Humboldt current also come nutrients that rise up and support marine life (and all the rich seafood you’ll encounter in Peru). Unfortunately, the waters seemed too warm for some… when we were in Paracas (on the southern coast, by the desert) and went out on a small boat into a bay, dead jellyfish and rotting algae littered nearly every inch of sand within twenty feet of the shore. The jellyfish were deep red and easily the largest I’ve ever seen; I can only imagine that the other marine life are just as fantastic.
And then there was Lima. As I mentioned in my previous post, I preferred Cuzco to Lima. Maybe it was the fact that cuzqueños took more pride in their culture, and were able to because they were more geographically isolated, while residents of Lima were more likely to be immigrants and often held the view that imported products and ideas were generally superior. Mostly though, it was the more obvious income divide, the traffic, the grime, and the lack of duende/soul in Lima’s architecture. But of course, there were still places to see and enjoy: my favorite neighborhood in Lima was Miraflores (considered relatively affluent), and in particular the coast: it was refreshing to get away from the simultaneously hectic and dazed, almost claustrophobic city center. There’s also a park further up the Miraflores coast (Parque del Amor, or Love Park) with gigantic statues and Gaudí-esque tiled walls, like a bit of Barcelona in South America.
Three weeks ago, I spent seven crazy, sleep-deprived days flying and driving around southern Perú with nine other friends. I could probably write a 50-page essay on my impressions, but I will try to sum it up crudely in a few words:
llamas-donkeys-bowler hats-ponchos-coca leaf tea-Inka heritage-ceviche-income disparity-tourism-poverty-agriculture-Andes-desert-terraces-writing on mountainsides-generous people-promising path to development-Lima < Cuzco
Even today, most Peruvian women of non-European descent (i.e. indigenous) wear knee-length skirts–even in the cold, even when they’re farming in the fields. Why? Because Peruvian women were traditionally judged by the size and strength of their calves, as an indication of how capable they would be as farmers, and therefore as good wives. The farms I saw while driving around Lima and Cuzco had tractors, yokes with oxen, and everything in between–but most of the manual work still seemed to be done by women.
In the cities, tourism was certainly a big industry–in Cuzco, it accounted for 60-95% of jobs, depending on who you asked–and not everyone was happy about it. Judging by the graffiti, some Peruvians felt like they were sell-outs, catering to foreigners instead of preserving traditional occupations. But tourism revenue can also have its benefits: when my friends and I were walking by the historic center of Cuzco (the traditional seat of the Inca civilization, and a city which, by the way, is much more impressive than most parts of Lima, the capital), we were approached by two siblings, trying to sell us hand puppets that their mother had made.
After one of us caved in and bought a few, things got more interesting. The boy, 7, told us that he wanted to be a musician, architect, scientist, chemical engineer, and writer (in roughly that order) and was better at multiplication than we were at that age. (We decided to motivate him by buying a bottle of Coke and some mints for a little experiment. It was a bit anti-climatic; I think he almost expected the mini-explosion…) As for his younger sister, she told us about how she’ll be performing Gangnam Style in her first-grade class. This is a city in the middle of nowhere, between the towering Andes and the Amazon. The tourists brought McDonalds, and the internet brought Gangnam Style; I’m thankful the government (and likely private funding) brought decent schools.
I can go on, about how the residents of Cuzco still seem proud and a bit resentful of the Spanish conquest, even 500 years later, while the residents of Lima seem to have forgotten … or of how we saw someone unloading alpaca stomachs from an unrefrigerated truck, still dripping blood, into the main bazaar in Cuzco … or of how we ran into a herd of lambs crossing the road near Moray (close to Cuzco). But instead, I’ll just show a few of the thousands of photos I took in this warm, photogenic country.
Next post–Machu Picchu, Lima, and Paracas. Next time I visit–the Amazon (Puerto Maldonado) and areas further inland and to the north. I’d love to hear about other places as well though!
I can’t help thinking that in all the years I’d spent in New York City, I’d never experienced a hurricane or a tornado. But over the past few years, New York has seen tornados, hurricanes, record-breaking blizzards–in short, some of the most severe weather in centuries. All the houses in my neighborhood, and many others, lost power, and didn’t regain it for days, if not weeks. My parents’ car, and every other car in a 5-block radius? Submerged like submarines and completely useless. If you want to see climate refugees, look no further than Brooklyn, NY.
I’m thankful for the early warning system and the efforts that went into informing people ahead of the storm. But it was not nearly enough. Several hospitals lost power after the generators were flooded; some, like Coney Island Hospital, which caters largely to South Brooklyn’s low-income, immigrant, and elderly populations, won’t be open until at least January. What’s worse, most patients–as well as nearby residents–weren’t ordered to evacuate. After the over-precaution for Hurricane Irene, people were hesitant to leave their homes for another merely heavy storm. Now, they have left their homes, but mostly because they don’t have a home left to stay in.
I can’t begin to imagine how much worse it must be to live in the Caribbean or Southeast Asia, where intense hurricanes, cyclones, and monsoons are an annual occurrence. I would think that communities would become more resilient and neighborly over time, the way that New York has become after Sandy, but there’s evidence to the contrary. Ether Duflo and Abijit Banerjee, two economists at MIT, found that many people are less likely to help in times of need because they don’t want to start a cycle of reliance. This point (mentioned in their wonderfully insightful book Poor Economics) about avoiding taking on other people’s financial burdens–even when they’re your parents or siblings–jars with my upbringing. Nonetheless, these findings have significant consequences for economic development. Perhaps storms in the developing world have costs like these that we can’t see or measure, but that may be harder to overcome than the mess that we in New York are continuing to face.
I haven’t posted since getting the unexpected honor of “Freshly Pressed” two months ago (thanks to everyone for your kind comments!)… in part because I hate disappointing people, and wouldn’t want to disappoint a now slightly-larger group of followers. But also because I had no idea how many people a few photos from Italy could reach, something that HONY probably realized this year.
A person could see this wondrous map and think a number of things:
- Photos break the language barrier.
- Some places, like North Korea, Papua New Guinea, Bolivia, and Greenland still have no access to the internet [or even the electric grid].
- People living in these places have better things to do than read blogs.
- A good chunk of us want to be in Italy right now.
As I begin the job hunt, I can’t help thinking about how to have the biggest positive impact. Not in the white-man’s-burden kind of way, but helping people where and when they want to be helped. I’m not sure that photography is the only way to go, but I think it needs to be part of the equation. A recent Lens blog post (among a stream of others) profiled an artist that wants to do just that–turn art into stronger activism. Several others (on violence against women in Norway, sexual abuse in South Africa, and domestic violence in the US) are possibly even more powerful. Just some food for thought…
In the spirit of awesome global cities, here are a few photos from a week spent in Istanbul this spring.
As my neighbor on the flight there said: Paris is a beautiful city. Istanbul is an ugly city with beautiful places.
I might have to agree, to a point: Istanbul still feels like a developing country, even in Taksim (a lively neighborhood near where we stayed)–but the beauty of the mosques on every other corner and the ability to cross over to another continent [Asia] on a 30-minute ferry more than make up for it.
There’s so much I can say about Istanbul and my time there–equal parts getting ripped off and finding many warm, hospitable people; eating great kebabs and shaking my head in disbelief at how popular fresh-squeezed pomegranate juice is in Istanbul (in case you’ve never tried it, it’s the most sour taste I’ve ever encountered); the mix of secular European and religious Middle Eastern influences, possibly skewed by the many Saudi tourists with their women in full head-to-toe burqas and hijabs [some with no eye openings]… I could go on for days.
I thought this was a great first start by two African photographers based in Ghana (Nyani Quarmyne and Nii Obodai) trying to portray Africans, and climate change in Africa, as they are rarely portrayed: through the eyes of Africans.
I say “great start” not because the photos aren’t beautiful or interesting–they definitely are, especially the second, of an amazingly well-framed young boy standing among the remaining walls of his house near the sea–but because I think that there is still more that could be done to get away from portraying the stereotypes and conventional stories, as well as portraying more diverse facets of the effects of climate change.
Also came upon this photo on Quarmyne’s website:
As Obodai said,
“I can see that there’s a mentality of confusion at play, but it’s not a poor place. Africans are not poor people. We might be making wrong choices, but we’re not poor people. I refuse to play that poverty game. That’s a choice we’re making.”
Looking forward to seeing more work from both of these two that validates Obodai’s conclusion.
Most people have now probably seen the news that Jim Yong Kim, the president of Dartmouth College in the US, has been elected as the next president of the World Bank. As a professor and former WB employee noted, the appointment is mostly political, and was never going to take merit into account.
“The Obama administration would almost certainly have withheld support for Lagarde’s appointment to the IMF if European nations had not agreed in advance to support whomever was Washington’s candidate for the World Bank.”
Even when I was still working at the Bank, we were told that a process was taking place to nominate eligible candidates from within the Bank. However, given that this has never yielded an actual Bank president, we knew that the whole process was only for show; the president always comes from outside the Bank. As a result, I think that the Bank will continue to stagnate and lose influence as a player in the international development sphere, and will likely become a lender of last resort rather than of first priority. While it is debatable whether the other two candidates would have done a better job than Kim, someone would have still been offended if one and not the other was elected.
Pro: Kim is foreign-born, and not Caucasian–definitely a change from Zoellick. He would also likely attract more investment from Asia than other candidates.
Con: Kim isn’t actually that different from Zoellick. He’s the president of a US university, and therefore works well in big bureaucracies and in the American/European business context.
Pro: Kim has a public health background and isn’t just going to look at financial returns.
Con: Kim doesn’t have an economics background… though arguably, the president never does economic analyses himself before making decisions anyway. Kim also likely would prioritize health issues over other problems (i.e. environment, agriculture/food security, infrastructure, etc.) even though these problems are often intertwined and can’t be approached in isolation (which is how the Bank continues to work.)
P.S. – Sorry for the long delay! I’ve been traveling and have sadly neglected the blog because I’ve been putting off putting up photos from Spain, Turkey, and France. Will get to it soon…
After an audit of its first six months of operation, Vestergaard-Frandsen earned 1.4 Million CDM Gold Standard credits (equivalent to 1.4 million tonnes of CO2 emissions averted) for its LifeStraw Carbon for Water Program. The project is expected to average 2.5m tonnes annually over its 10-year duration. This is a big deal because:
- It’s the largest carbon project of any type in Africa thus far
- It’s the first ever safe drinking water project to be financed using carbon credits (drinking water is usually purified by boiling the water over a fire with non-renewable wood)
- It’s the first carbon project to monitor, report and verify actual health impacts of a technology (mostly reduced recorded instances of diarrhea in this case)
- It’s financially sustainable: the LifeStraws are distributed [and repaired and replaced] for free (the program distributed 877,505 Family water filters so far, in Kenya’s Western Province) and are financed through the sale of carbon credits
- In addition to providing safe drinking water, the project has other benefits. It aims to reduce extreme poverty, achieve universal primary education (since young girls are often tasked with finding fuelwood and must therefore miss school), empower women and girls, reduce child mortality, improve maternal health, and combat HIV/AIDS and other diseases (as HIV/AIDS patients are more susceptible to illness from unsafe drinking water).