The 99%- Here for a reason

Like many people, we've been wondering what Occupy Wall St. is all about. The constant refrain in the media has been "What's their platform?" "What are their demands?" "Do they have a good reason to be there?" So we went down on Wednesday to find out.

This video is a product of an amazing afternoon spent with people from all backgrounds who want to see a more just and sustainable society. Their reasons were diverse, but their energy and excitement seemed singular. As people who spend most of our waking hours trying to help tell the world about social change, this seems like an opportunity of a lifetime. Yes there were punks, burnt sage and some signs on the crazier end of things... but what I saw was a group of people longing for meaning. If it takes time to tell this story, we're ready to play our part.

I'll leave you with this story of a woman we met... a laid off social worker. When we asked her to write down her reason for coming down, she sat for a long time just staring at the poster board. I asked if she needed help and she turned to me,"I've just seen so much suffering... so many kids and families.... it's hard to put into words."

Finally she wrote down "I'm here to stand in solidarity with others that give a damn."

And she did.

AFS- Dear American Mom

We created this video in the form of a letter to the host moms of AFS, an international exchange org who is also one of our favorite clients. This was shot very quickly over a single day with the help of YES program scholars from around the world. It was interesting to collaborate with the students on the script and title card creation.... a fusion of user-generated and professional content.

We are looking forward to using more creative formats like this to tell stories as big as international exchange.

Remembering 9/11 with Brooklyn Heights

We marked the 10th Anniversary of 9/11 by participating in a multimedia program at beautiful St. Ann & the Holy Trinity in Brooklyn Heights. Our contribution was creating several videos for the afternoon, which provided the voice and feel of the community's experience during that historic event. 9/11 is of course burned into our collective memory, so it was refreshing to experience it again through the personal stories of Brooklyn's hardest hit neighborhood. It was also a blast to spend a late summer day roaming around Brooklyn trying to capture the beauty and diversity of our home borough.

Democracy looks like someone's mom

The ruined presidential palace in Port Au Prince

On Fonkoze’s website there is this tagline: Building the Economic Foundations for Democracy in Haiti.

Now often we run into taglines that sound awesome, but don’t really jive with an organization's activity. Fonkoze’s tagline is not aspirational. If anything I think it’s the best descriptor I’ve seen so far of what they do.

Democracy seems to be a notion that’s been on the tip of the tongue here for hundreds of years. Without going into Haitian history, let’s just say the people of Haiti are still waiting. And among the things that Haitian’s seem to want (health care, education, food security, to not live in tents) democracy is a real root desire.

Underneath the loans or the vitamins or the insurance… beyond any of the services Fonkoze provides, there is this subtle current of democracy. The women who come together in solidarity groups are really enacting a deep desire to participate, to be involved in something that isn’t corrupt or coercive. And it seems like with every new group of Fonkoze women there are five more Haitians for whom Democracy is a real living, breathing thing.

Now as far as I understand it, Haiti has a long way to go in terms of political democracy. And I assume the tagline refers to the fact that with greater economic possibilities, political democracy can be built. But I can't help smiling when I think of this growing tide of women who are meeting each day to practice democracy.

Today I'm back in Brooklyn, a day after my own country's democratic low point. What sticks with me most from our weeks in Haiti is this longing for opportunity, this resistance to hopelessness. When people have asked about our trip, I've had nothing adequate to say. But maybe it's just that we saw a little hope in a hopeless place... and it looked a lot like someone's mom.

It's all about the kids

The “Solid Women” blew me away with their generosity and poise.  It’s not easy to do with multiple cameras in your face.  

Even as we said “no no, we promise… this is the last shot!” they would smile and let us get what we needed.  We sat all five women down for an interview, and asked a long list of questions that were translated from English into Kreyol: What was your life like before joining Fonkoze?  What business do you run with your loan?  What are your hopes for the future?

The answers to the last question has stuck with me: What are your hopes for the future? I ask. Some of them mentioned briefly the hope of finishing the renovations on their homes or expanding their business, but the conversation always turned back to their children. I hope my children have better than I have had.  From school fees to food to emergency savings it was all linked to this pack of rascally kids who surrounded us as we worked.

 

If you’ve seen almost any of the videos we make, you might know that we have been lucky to meet kids all over the world with beautiful smiles and quick wits who are kind enough to contribute their magic to our work.  The kids we met in this village outside of Les Cayes were no different: polite, energetic, sassy, excited to see their pictures.  Knowing that Fonkoze's work trickles down to these small toothy grins is, in short, pretty awesome.

There is no Yellow Brick Road

I’m not sure what I thought micro-finance would be like. Maybe after a small loan a woman wakes up the next day and presto!, finds a thriving business that enables her to build a brand new house and send her kids to good schools. I suspect most of the criticism of micro-credit comes from notions like this.

The truth is there is no yellow brick road out of poverty. Instead we’ve watched as Fonkoze provides companion services with their financial ones. Not because it’s a nice thing to do, but because they know that each client is a real human being with many intertwined challenges.

We shot our group of Solid Women at education classes (a few of them can’t read, but decided to skip the literacy module in favor of the business module). There was a vitamin distribution, where children got essential vitamins. And even micro-insurance that helped women deal with the inevitable frailty of their businesses.

And that’s the beauty of Fonkoze… they’ve created a network where any services that might benefit clients can be implemented and integrated with micro-finance. Most importantly I think the women feel that Fonkoze isn’t just a piggy bank, I think they take their commitment to the program pretty seriously. One women we met was in her 60’s and just starting literacy classes. When we asked why she smiled and said simply “I didn’t want to die without knowing how to read.”

This is slow work… often without fireworks. But these women are moving.

Poverty is Misery

What an uplifiting title for this post.... I bet you're excited to read.

During our interviews (conducted in kreyol) the Solid Women use the word misery and the word poverty interchangeably. When you see the life of a Haitian peasant up close, the opportunities for misery peak out of every nook and cranny.

Lozelle told us that when the weather is bad, she “tells her children to patient.” When that doesn’t work, they eat leaves from a nearby tree. Mariette (the vivacious group leader) is a mover and shaker. But she couldn’t build her business with the loans from loan sharks that charged up to 20% interest. Perhaps most heartbreaking was Seden’s story. She told us, “I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything.” In the end, misery can manifest itself in this state of paralysis. We’ve seen it often here in Haiti…. people just sitting on the side of a busy street. Waiting.

Fonkoze did not erase misery from these women’s lives. On the contrary each day brings a new struggle. But for each of them it seems the first time in their lives they’ve been provided with an active opportunity to change their circumstances. In fact it was the other four women who came to Seden and said “You can’t just sit around all day. Come on… get up, we’re going to join Fonkoze together.” And they did.

I keep coming back to the above picture of Seden. As we take photos/videos we're hoping to balance the beauty evident in the country, work and faces of these women, with the reality that misery exist in abundance here. There is something subtle about her look that works in this direction...there is a nuance I can't put into words.