Mary Tam's blog

What does it take to start a movement? Mercy Corps is fortunate to have a large base of passionate supporters who rally their communities to support people facing natural disasters, civil conflict, poverty and oppression around the world.

Taiko drumming troupe Taiko Ren's energetic performance brought tears to the eyes of some attendees. Photo: Mary Tam/Mercy Corps

Every once in a while there is a catalyst that not only motivates the immediate community, but manages to stimulate a larger movement, transcending both physical and social boundaries. Such a movement has been initiated by Pixar employee Daisuke (Dice) Tsutsumi and Artists Help Japan (AHJ), a grassroots effort to help affected communities in Japan.

It began with a desire to help the earthquake and tsunami survivors in Japan. Dice was already a Mercy Corps donor and knew that we were partnering with the Japanese non-governmental organisation Peace Winds. It became a host of events — both in the U.S. and overseas — reflecting a collaborative effort to support relief and recovery in Japan. So far, AHJ events have raised over £27,000 for Mercy Corps and Peace Winds!

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My niece sporting her Mercy Corps onesie. Photo: courtesy of Mary Tam

As we ring in a new year, my sister and brother-in-law are beginning a new life chapter. Their first child was recently born, and this 6.7-pound bundle has changed all of our lives. I see my sister and her husband altering their priorities, based on a desire to give this little girl the chance to live, love, laugh and learn. I see my family gravitating towards her innocent energy, almost as if she holds a cosmic force. I notice how friends, family and even strangers take an interest in new life and the constant process of discovery that accompanies it.

It makes me think about the little ones I’ve come across in other parts of the globe while visiting Mercy Corps’ field offices. A little boy in Kyrgyzstan, living in a neighborhood that had recently been torched and pillaged. A group of Colombian children who shared school space with other youth who had been victims of child labour. I know that their families have as much love for their children but perhaps not as much hope, as they have seen what limited opportunities their circumstances will permit.

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Every year thousands of families in Colombia are displaced from their homes and communities due to violence. They form resettlement camps where they can, often in undesirable locations due to lack of options. Mercy Corps makes it a priority to work with local communities to identify the challenges of living in such areas and create solutions, enabling community-led projects. But what does “community-led” really look like?

In the resettlement of Colombiatón, Mercy Corps has gathered a group of youth leaders and is teaching them about environmental awareness, community pride and how to be self-advocates. Mercy Corps staff provide them with guidance and knowledge, and help the youth coordinate projects like planting neighborhood fruit trees. The youth are taking ownership and action – making their communities cleaner and safer. These passionate young leaders are motivating the adults to get involved and showing los niños (the younger children) that life can be better.

They are working across neighborhood boundaries, supporting each other and strengthening inter-community relations. Watch this two-minute video to see what “community-led” looks like!

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As Kyrgyzstan's October 10 elections approach, I think about my friends and colleagues over there and hope for their safety. Without a doubt, Kyrgyzstan and its people made an imprint on me, and taught me to challenge my assumptions.

In the United States, we are generally taught to smile when we meet people — projecting happiness and confidence. Naturally, when new acquaintances greet me with a straight face, I interpret that as disinterest. This was my initial notion in Kyrgyzstan, but it didn't take long to figure out that — in this land — the absence of a smile does not indicate the absence of warmth.

Ayzada Mukambetova with a fresh round loaf of hlep — bread — from her oven. Photo: Mary Tam/Mercy Corps

During my third week in Kyrgyzstan, I was fortunate enough to head north to visit some of our Issyk-Kul field offices with my fellow interns and our esteemed colleague, Ulan. Despite resembling a traveling circus, we managed to have quite the productive trip. One day of the excursion was dedicated to meeting various loan clients, who also participate in Kompanion's development trainings on agriculture, livestock and financial management.

On this day our local colleague, Dariya, introduced us to Ayzada Mukambetova. Ayzada seemed a bit reserved at first — offering a half smile with her hands clasped together in front of her. I thought, perhaps, she felt inconvenienced by our visit. But as she began sharing details about her life I realized this woman was full of a unique and organic energy, and that she was happy to tell her story.

With humble confidence, she spoke of her agriculture business and how she has improved the quality of her crop through Kompanion loans and development trainings. At this point, Ayzada had warmed up and I felt ignorant for having made a judgment based on the first moments of our introduction.

After talking to Ayzada, I felt like the laziest person on earth. “In the village,” she said, “one must have more than one source of income.” In a modest tone, she went on to describe her various professions. In addition to cultivating various crops, she raises livestock. She is a music teacher at the local school. In the summer, she has a bakery — in fact, when we arrived she was in the middle baking bread.

Here I am, third from left, next to Ayzada Mukambetova — holding the still-warm loaf of hlep. Photo: Mercy Corps Kyrgyzstan

She said it is a good sign if guests visit the house when one is baking. She showed Dariya and I to the kitchen, rich with the smell of fresh bread, and handed me a golden-brown oval loaf. It is customary for Kyrgyz households to invite guests to join them for chai. If visitors cannot stay one offers hlep (bread). Dariya and I pinched off a piece of bread which was still warm, and she insisted we take the entire loaf for our afternoon tea. We visited four Kompanion clients that day — needless to say, we ate a lot of hlep.

It is not uncommon for a Kyrgyz person to wear a straight face when greeting you or posing for a photograph. But that does not imply anything about his or her attitude or interest in communicating. Every household we visited was warm with hospitality.

When we left, they would all say "preenhadeetye," which means, “come back.” This is a customary farewell, but — after hearing their stories and sharing bread — I like to think they genuinely meant it.

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Mercy Corps-supported community leaders and volunteers stand in front of Pasto's Casa de Justicia with visitors from Mercy Corps headquarters. These leaders and volunteers are helping raise awareness of gender-based and family violence and find solutions. Photo: Mercy Corps

What does empowerment look like? It’s difficult to accurately depict such an intangible subject. In a small building located in the heart of Pasto, Colombia, I found a tangible example. In fact, there was a whole group of them. They wore maroon sweatshirts and name badges...

In the Casa de Justicia, a group of women set up chairs in a large circle. These are community leaders, volunteers who have joined women’s networks that Mercy Corps’ gender programmes have helped to form. We do a round of quick introductions and the women are eager to share with us what they have learned and accomplished.

One woman crosses the room to a few large posters hanging on the wall. She walks us through the representative contents of an “Emergency Kit” to combat family violence. Band-Aids to protect the wound. Cotton to smooth relationships. Hearing aids that allow us to truly hear others. Iodine to allow us to forgive and heal. Disposable towelettes so we are ready to help others at any moment. And most importantly, friends who will help us overcome the physical and emotional scars.

"One woman crosses the room to a few large posters hanging on the wall. She walks us through the representative contents of an “Emergency Kit” to combat family violence." Photo: Mary Tam/Mercy Corps

When she is done, another member describes a situation where the police beat and arrested a boy for no reason. Through the networks, the women have learned about law and their rights. She went to the police station to defend the child, stating they had no legal right to detain him. She wore her network uniform and badge, which she felt offered recognition and kept her from being thrown in, along with the boy. He was released.

The women charge forward with accrued momentum and collective support. Another woman points out that raising awareness about gender-based and family violence is good, but women need options in order to truly escape the violence. She explains that a group of them would like to take the next steps in helping women who are trapped in abusive relationships due to economic dependency. They want to start a bakery which would employ such women, offering a regular salary, an escape route and an abundance of emotional support.

This is what empowerment looks like. Not only are these women applying the knowledge they have acquired to daily situations, but they are analyzing challenges within their communities and identifying and pursuing solutions.

Yet another woman expresses herself in a poem. She speaks of land that was once arid and unwelcoming, but is now fertile. Of humiliation being replaced with friendship. She says this is where dreams may be planted.

While there is no funding currently available for the bakery, these women have planted their dream seed. When this plant sprouts and grows, it will bear the fruit of empowerment.

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Helpers came in all shapes and sizes, excited to participate in the community action. Photo: Mary Tam/Mercy Corps

I have fallen in love … with Colombia.

Our team arrived six days ago and over the last few days I have gathered a number of observations and, more importantly, have learned that inspiration often comes in small packages.

Observation #1: Expect delays. Plans here are fluid and we constantly adjust to circumstances beyond our control. We missed out on visiting survivors of land mine explosions in Samaniego due to a storm. However, we landed safely the following day and were welcomed by the kind of dense heat that immediately soaks into your skin. One of our first field visits was to a school that participates in our Espacios Para Crecer (Spaces to Grow) programme. There we met children who had previously spent their days selling fish, shucking oysters, working at corner stores and selling fast food. The children explained that before they had no time to play or, what we like to refer to in the states as, just be kids. Worse, such jobs make the children extremely vulnerable to sexual exploitation. The children shared some of their favorite activities – playing, drawing, fútbol. I ended the visit having learned new handshakes, wishing I had more time to spend with them.

Observation #2: Be ready for location changes. We were visiting el Hospital Universitario Departamental de Nariño (the local hospital in Nariño) when we received word that a bomb had exploded not far from the location of our next visit. Hence, the decision was made to meet at a local school instead of the original park. Regardless of the location change, we were still able to meet a group of multiplicadores (youth leaders) of the Vivo Jugando programme, which combines sports and dialogue to address issues of gender based violence. These teenagers trained for four months to teach other children and youth of all ages about equality and respect. The youth hope to continue this programme, but much depends on funding and school partnerships. One of the youth leaders noted that boys and girls learn to play together but that these lessons extend far beyond the playground and into the home, and beyond the home into daily life. I left there telling Oscar, an employee of our local implementation partner, that these kids are more mature than I am. It wasn’t an exaggeration.

Me and Luis Carlos taking a breather during the Colombiaton clean up. Photo: Jennifer Schmidt/Mercy Corps

Observation #3: “Just do it.” Nike supports the Vivo Jugando programme by providing participants with uniforms, shoes and football balls – prized possessions in these communities. These words are much more than a slogan, which I learned while visiting a settlement called Colombiatón, where thousands of displaced families have relocated due to natural disasters or conflict. There we met with youth who were taking community issues into their own hands with the help of Mercy Corps.

We gathered in a small park surrounded by adolescent mango trees. Fernando Torres, Civil Society Coordinator, told us that all the trees we saw in the park and surrounding neighborhood had been planted by the youth. We participated in a park cleanup as well and embarrassingly my gringo hand developed a blister after just a couple minutes of weed wacking with the machete. As we began to collect leaves and rubbish, children and community members trickled out to help.

By the end, our cleanup crew had just about tripled in size. The youth leaders have hopes of expanding their work beyond environmental concerns to address the serious issue of gang activity. They wisely advised that if you want to make something happen you just have to do it, instead of waiting for someone else to do it for you. As we piled into our van upon leaving, I wondered what our world would look like if every person on earth had the same initiative as these kids.

Colombia’s current tourism campaign includes an ad that reads, “Colombia – the only risk is wanting to stay.” While this is obviously not true for the nationals who face displacement, exploitation, poverty, economic deprivation and violence, it is certainly true for visitors. I’m already fantasizing about how I might return and be absorbed into a culture of passion, music, inspiration and sharing. I wish I could stay longer.

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My three months in Kyrgyzstan are nearly up! I am incredibly lucky to have been involved with our work here at such a pivotal time. While my duties have morphed as particular needs have arisen, I still recall my first assignment.

Jailoo Mamatou is a Kompanion client and development participant in Darhan village. He proudly showed us his home garden and invited us to taste his fresh garlic. Photo: Mary Tam/Mercy Corps

Originally, I was part of an ad hoc team that was assessing data and knowledge management needs at Kompanion, a microfinance institution and social enterprise. Just as I started researching the Human Development Index (HDI), the UN’s Human Poverty Index and other social indicators, this assignment was put on hold, overshadowed by more pressing emergency-related obligations. The subject of knowledge management is not as attractive as emergency activity (is anyone even still reading this?), but it certainly deserves its two minutes of fame.

Kompanion diligently tracks information on loan products and has conducted analyses of specific externally-funded projects. However, the company has been limited in its ability to measure overall efficacy with regards to social performance through the tracking of non-traditional indicators — measurable aspects of life that complement standard economic indicators such as Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and provide a more comprehensive understanding of poverty reduction.

Funding impact evaluation is a significant a challenge for the international non-governmental organisation (NGO) community. Responsible donors, understandably, want confirmation that their gifts have contributed to effective outcomes. Yet, ironically, they are often disinclined to fund the operations that make this type of reporting possible. The tendency is to direct funds towards tangible results such as items distributed, schools built or children fed. Impact evaluation has the potential to produce an equal if not greater Social Return on Investment (SROI), as it allows an organisation to learn, adjust and become more effective.

Similarly, I’ve tried to learn, adjust and become a more effective intern over the last few months. In a country plagued with unrest, I am experiencing my own internal conflict.

In this photo — with me standing alongside one of Kompanion's Ladas — we had just observed the loan certification process at a branch office in Issyk-Kul oblast. Photo: Mercy Corps

On the one hand, I am overwhelmed by the trauma sustained by both ethnic Kyrgyz and Uzbeks. My mind simmers with frustration as widespread anger and resentment continue to thrive. Many people have limited interest in the fact that the majority of those affected, on both sides, played no part whatsoever in activities that initiated the violence. Instead people focus on specific anecdotes and claims — segments of the truth — that they believe justify the actions and position of “their side.” Having said all that, it’s easy for me to remain objective as an outsider. Ask me again when it is me, my family or my friends that have been harmed and I may sing a different tune.

On the other (and more selfish) hand, I have thoroughly enjoyed the simple pleasures of exploring an unfamiliar culture. As I approach the end of my stay, I reflect over the experiences I’ve collected. Tasting raw garlic from a client’s home garden. Bouncing around in the back seat of the two-door Lada. Hearing prayers being sung at a nearby mosque. The smell of fresh lepyoshka (local bread). Watching children frolic in the fountains of Ala-Too Square. Appreciating the communal nature of our development team.

It’s strange to be leaving just when I am beginning to feel invested. Despite the country’s complex situation, I am fortunate to have gathered new information and personal experiences of considerable intrinsic value. If I were to monitor and evaluate the last three months, I’d say they’ve contributed to the achievement of a high ranking on the MTLSI — the Mary Tam Life Satisfaction Index.

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The decision process that goes into making a charitable contribution is different for each person. Still, most responsible donors have one thing in common — they want to know that their money is being used to help the intended recipients and that the programmes being provided are beneficial.

Organisations can talk up a good storm about the scientific studies projects are based on, or the philosophical theory behind specific programmes. However, concerns often come down to one simple question, “But, is it working?”

Thousands of homes and businesses were destroyed when violence broke out in southern Kyrgyzstan in June. Photo: Mary Tam/Mercy Corps

The same question can (and should) be asked of the equity grants that Mercy Corps is issuing to micro-entrepreneurs who lost their businesses due to the recent violence in southern Kyrgyzstan. “Provide start-up capital to help people get back to work” — sounds great, real catchy. But, is it working?

When I first arrived in Kyrgyzstan, I was eager to put my Mercy Corps elevator speech to the test. Today, I can say I have seen our work first hand and can answer the question posed above with confidence. Today, I want to personally vouch for the people who desperately want to be in control of their lives and for the programme I believe will help them do this.

Yes, it’s working.

How do we know? Mercy Corps is conducting follow up progress assessments with equity grant recipients. For example, Mamashakir is an equity grant recipient whose magazin (a corner store business) and home were badly damaged in June due to burning and looting.

In his interview he was asked, “What are the first few purchases you’ll make with the money?” He responded that he would buy a refrigerator and inventory. When a follow-up assessment was conducted less than two weeks later, Mamashakir had done exactly what he had planned to and was back in business.

I was inspired to create a fundraising page to support people like Mamashakir. However, I realize my “street cred” only extends so far. As LeVar Burton of Reading Rainbow always said, “But you don’t have to take MY word for it!”

This short video explains how equity grants work logistically and demonstrates what Mamashakir was able to do with the help of Mercy Corps and Kompanion.

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Ainash Mamatova and her husband had just finished remodeling their home earlier this year; it had taken them many years to save up enough money to do this. Ainash had worked at the bazaar for 16 years, mainly selling shoes. In June — when violence broke out in southern Kyrgyzstan — the two containers that served as both her warehouse and place of business were looted and one was badly burned, and her home was completely destroyed.

Ainash in her burned-out home. Photo: Mary Tam/Mercy Corps

Ainash broke into soft sobs as she explained that her children are now staying at two different locations, and she rotates between friends and family so as not to inconvenience anyone for too long. Ainash’s husband described how, at first, they did not want to run away and thought it was best to stay in their apartment. The second day of the violence, they witnessed their seven-year-old neighbour get shot in the chest from her balcony. It was then that he and Ainash decided they needed to leave, for the safety of their children.

In their absence, some sort of grenade or bomb was thrown in through their window. The entire apartment was decimated. We had to take careful steps to avoid wreckage and broken glass as they showed us the remains of their home, which was charred from floor to ceiling. Bullet holes decorated the walls. It smelled of cinders and sadness. Almost symbolically, the sound of a slow, ghostly drip came from what used to be the bathroom — a broken home’s tears creating dull splatters before being absorbed into ash.

Ainash wiped away her tears, saying she has many loyal customers who have come to her for years. But how does one restart a business with no resources? She has applied for a Mercy Corps equity grant so that she can purchase inventory and pay for a new space. With the money, she plans to buy goods from the wholesale market and sell from a location she has found at a different bazaar.

Some people are even worse off than Ainash’s family — those that were beaten or violated during the violence, or were left with dead or missing relatives. It is a disturbing moment when you realize those who have lost their home, business and life savings can be considered lucky by some standard. My throat and nose stung a bit as I held back tears leaving Ainash and her husband. I didn’t want to be one of those “soft” development workers who can’t keep it together out in the field — and besides, they were not my tears to shed.

What I have to remind myself is that although we cannot help everyone, that doesn’t mean I should dismiss those we can help. Right now Mercy Corps has limited funds to issue these equity grants. There are thousands of people here who are out of work following the recent clashes. Not because they are lazy. Not because they are inept. Simply because they have lost everything and lack the resources to resume business operations.

What we need are more people with bleeding hearts and pragmatic minds. Those who will recognize the value and functionality of the equity grant programme. Those who do not need to be thanked, but will be happy enough knowing their contribution will make a meaningful difference for some stranger they will never meet.

Here's a short video I made during my visit with Ainash:

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There: I rode the N-Judah to work, which could take anywhere from 20-50 minutes depending on SF Muni's mood.

Here: My flatmate and I walk to work, playing “Frogger” as we cross the streets (jaywalking is standard here, but that doesn't mean drivers slow down).

There: I was cold. Cold getting out of bed, cold waiting for the N, cold in restaurants. I know, San Francisco is not the Arctic and you'd think after living in the Bay Area for nearly seven years I would have become acclimated. Not so.

Here: I am on sensory overload, in the best of ways. I'm constantly absorbing the city layout, while periodically hopping or sidestepping to avoid substantial potholes. It is warm and the air is dense. Some trees emit the scent of over-ripe, tropical fruit although they bear none.

There: I would read about civil conflict and atrocities occurring in far off places and wonder how accurate the information was.

Here: I solicit input from those around me regarding the recent conflict – curious about their perspective on the situation and how they are personally affected by it. I ask about the referendum and whether or not they voted. I have not yet had the chance to visit Osh or Jalalabad to see and hear with my own eyes and ears how people are feeling and reacting to the situation. When and if the opportunity presents itself, I will jump.

There: I've been meaning to put together an emergency kit – water, flash light, non-perishable food and all that jazz – in the event of a natural disaster. This would serve to hold me over until the assistance I assume would come, came.

Here: I try to imagine what I would do if my neighborhood were attacked by armed groups. If my friends, family and I were forced to flee rather than risk death, rape or other injury. Would I take refuge in a school? A church? A trusted community removed from the violence?

There: I was (ok, still am) rather self-righteous and sensitive to situations that seem unfair. Perhaps this has something to do with being a Libra and a middle child? I recall how angry I was when USPS didn't process my Change of Address request, which meant I didn't receive my monthly bus pass on time and was forced to purchase another one. After a month of stalking the post office and providing documentation of the situation, USPS finally cut me a check for £27

Here: I’m left feeling angry at the injustice of it all. But I cannot simply write a letter and expect to receive just compensation.

There: Unfortunately, now that the supply of bloody and fiery photos has subsided, so has the media coverage on Kyrgyzstan.

Here: Despite the fact that Kyrgyzstan is quickly falling off the world's radar, Mercy Corps, Kompanion and other organisations are undertaking the arduous and complex challenge of assisting those who have been deeply affected by the violence in the south. Sadly, the topic of recovery activity, here and elsewhere, deserves so much more attention than it will ever receive.

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