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If You Want to Start an NGO, Downgrade Your Ego

| daniellamontemarano

This blog post was previously published on Under African Skies. 

These days, doing good is hot. It’s an age where seemingly every celebrity runs a non-profit and every American youth above a certain income level goes on a “service trip.” Philanthropy has a way of exploding across our social media networks: #Hashtag activism, online petitions, and Instagrammable moments like a village using its new borehole for the first time resonate with the masses like nothing else.

But therein lies a shortcoming of globalization and its latest accomplice, social networking: we are more plugged into what’s happening around the world, but our responses seem to remain the same. One such stagnant response is that of the non-governmental organization (NGO) founded out of the sometimes-nefarious, sometimes-naive savior complex.

Don’t get me wrong: starting a civil society organization is a great way to meet the community needs left unaddressed by the government or the private sector. But, NGOs can also become tools for strengthening an individual’s ego. It starts off quite innocently: you find an issue you care about (malaria!), you find a country where it’s a problem (The Gambia!), and you start an organization to combat that scourge (Swat Away Malaria!). But, at the end of the day, you haven’t looked beyond yourself for an answer to this issue: you haven’t consulted local stakeholders, collected data, or engaged the community in collaborative solutions. In essence, your newborn organization suffers from Founder’s Syndrome: it revolves around you and your ideas, not the vision or experience of the community or its wider group of stakeholders.

Sometimes, this type of NGO survives: it catches a big-time donor, it rides on the wings of its larger-than-life celebrity founder, or it learns enough real-life lessons to sober up and transfer leadership to the grassroots. Many others don’t, and the casualties of ego-driven humanitarianism pile up.

As I’ve been learning over the last four months, the right way to start an organization demands collaboration, patience, and–above all–humility. Whether you’re a foreigner or a local, whether you’re affected by the particular issue or not, the second you start an NGO, you have to become a completely different leader. You are a conduit for the community, not a one-stop shop with a monopoly on social justice solutions. Your innovations and ideas are both constrained and spurred by the needs of affected groups. You are guided and driven by the expertise of local leaders and stakeholders.

Above of all, you consistently downgrade your ego. If you are truly serious about serving other people, you have to ask yourself every single day: “Am I making this decision or pursuing this project because it makes me feel good? Am I disagreeing with that social worker because I don’t want to be wrong? Do I really know everything in this situation?”

If you’re doing it right, you’re going to be embarrassed because someone will call you out on your inaccurate cultural assumption at a stakeholder workshop. You’re going to get burnt out from running more consultative meetings than you ever imagined possible. People will prove you wrong day after day after day. And you’ll take it all with grace and acceptance, knowing that each time your ego’s checked, you grow more capable of leading your organization and making a difference in your community

IMG_3113
District stakeholders after an anti-human trafficking sensitization workshop in February 2014 which led to the formation of the Ngamiland Anti-Human Trafficking Network

The Anti-Voluntourism Guide for Local NGOs

| daniellamontemarano

This blog post was previously published on Under African Skies. 

The White Savior Industrial Complex: a riff on colonial-era bigotry encompassing the quest for many Westerners to validate their privilege through charity, volunteerism, and liking advocacy videos on Facebook. Two years ago, it showed up on our radars in a major way through Invisible Children’s Kony 2012 campaign and the inevitable backlash that followed. Two weeks ago, it popped up again on social media feeds in the form of Rafia Zakaria’s Al Jazeera America blog post on voluntourism.

Voluntourism is quickly becoming a thing for people wanting more than the mediocrity of a vacation to an exotic locale. Basically, they travel to some lush, tropical country, spend time playing tag with orphans/digging pit latrines/building schools, visit a tourist hot spot, and return home with a collection of stories with which they dazzle their friends and co-workers. But, rather than promoting genuine cross-cultural interaction and meeting real community needs, voluntourism often only satiates the volunteers’ desire for adventure and validates their benevolence toward the innately inferior international marginalized populations.
Several people have written on how to preserve the positive aspects of voluntourism (e.g. the potential for cross-cultural understanding and exposure to human rights and development work) while simultaneously diminishing its more nefarious angle. But while other writers have addressed voluntourism and the white savior industrial complex by targeting potential volunteers, I wanted to talk instead to the host organizations themselves.
Let me say that I’m not advocating for the elimination of the voluntourism industry. Rather, I’m suggesting a few changes to the soliciting and hosting of international volunteers that could transform the phenomenon into a truly positive experience for the organization, the surrounding community, and the volunteers themselves.
First, before you begin advertising for international volunteers, conduct an internal assessment of your organization. What are your human, financial, and material needs? How can you improve your programs? Are you meeting the needs of your community? Once you determine the gaps in your organization, you can map a way forward to addressing those requirements.
Next, look at the requisite human resources for you to move forward. Do you need to create short or long term positions? Do you need a technical expert or a specialist? Unskilled labor? Depending on your human resource gaps, you have a toolbox of options from which you can choose. But, due to the funding constraints experienced by most local organizations, you’ll probably want to go the volunteer route.
Now, the word “volunteer” is not synonymous with “international volunteer.” Before you seek foreign volunteers, look first to your own community. Are there skilled men, women, or youth willing to lend a hand at your organization? Alternatively, are there domestic volunteer organizations to whom you can appeal? (Here in Botswana, Tirelo ya Sechaba, or the National Service, has been recently rebooted and is placing volunteers in government and non-government offices around the country.) If either exist, get them onboard. Not only will you meet your own needs, but you will also encourage volunteerism and ownership within your community.

If you cannot enlist the local community as volunteers, it’s time to look beyond borders. But, instead of launching an open call for anybody willing and ready, be specific about what you need and how long you need it for. Remember: international volunteers are not a sustainable solution in and of themselves. You should focus on their role as capacity-builders; as such, they should be solicited and engaged on the basis of specific criteria. (It’s worth noting that some volunteer placement businesses aren’t very stringent with their application process, so you might need to screen volunteers yourself.)

While you’re hosting international volunteers, make sure there is a clear agreement upon roles, responsibilities, and expectations. These international volunteers aren’t staff members, but, if you did your prep work correctly, they will have come to you to fill specific human resource gaps. Manage their work output while respecting the spirit of their volunteerism.

Also, prioritize your volunteer’s integration into the community and the organization, regardless of the duration of their stay. Introduce them to community stakeholders, bring them to local events, and involve them in office functions. Socialize with them outside of the office, especially with other community members. Educate them on local culture, including language, history, and common customs. The result of all this integration? The volunteers will be less likely to view themselves as saviors of the international underprivileged. Instead, their self-image will be that of a colleague, a community member, and a friend.

Finally, plan your organization’s exit strategy from the land of International Volunteerism. These individuals are short-term solutions for long-term problems. If you still need the same human resources after several rounds of international volunteers, investigate funding for permanent staff members.

Yes, these suggestions require a lot of work and advance planning. But, haphazard interventions have no place in international development. If you don’t mindfully enlist the help of international volunteers, you might be responsible for a host of problems, from nourishing the white industrial savior complex to failing to meet your organization and community needs. On the other hand, exhaustive preparation and implementation of a coherent international volunteer strategy will undoubtedly benefit your organization, community, and volunteers.

Cameroon, September 2011: I worked as an international field worker with the grassroots peacebuilding organization Global Conscience Initiative. Here, I'm at a going-away party for the organization's national volunteers.
Cameroon, September 2011: I worked as an international field worker with the grassroots peacebuilding organization Global Conscience Initiative. Here, I’m at a going-away party for the organization’s national volunteers.

Why Batswana Should Care About Human Trafficking

| daniellamontemarano

When Kefilwe* was five years old, nightly arguments started erupting between her parents in her comfortable home in the northwest village of Makalamabedi. Nothing, from the family finances to the care of elderly relatives, was safe from their barbed underhanded comments and unsparing accusations. Embattled and bitter, her parents decided to split up. Her mother remained in their home village while her father moved 70 km away to Maun.

At first, Kefilwe stayed with her father in Maun. She happily enrolled at Mathola Primary School, and the dust from her childhood upheaval began to settle. But two years later, her father found employment in Francistown, a large metropolitan area located six hours from Maun. Her mother opposed Kefilwe’s move, so she took her daughter back into her home in Makalamabedi, where she now stayed with her new husband and her stepchildren.

The moment Kefilwe moved into her old village, she knew things had irreversibly changed from her early childhood life. Her stepfather and his relatives were demanding and abusive, frequently saddling her with innumerable household chores that took her away from her schoolwork and her friends. While her stepsiblings were free to roam and play around the village, the exploited Kefilwe bore the brunt of the compound’s domestic work. Her mother and stepfamily collected the bountiful dividends of her free, consistent labour at the cattle post, at relatives’ compounds, and in their own home.

The coerced labour and the sexual abuse that ensued when she reached adolescence became too much for Kefilwe. She tried numerous times to run away: to her father in Francistown, to her friends in Maun, even to the nearby village of Chanoga, where she knew not a single soul. But each time, one person or another would bring her back to Makalamabedi. Whether speaking to the government social worker or to inquisitive neighbours, her stepfamily used the same excuse: Kefilwe was a naughty girl who needed to be reformed through long stays at the cattle post or virtual incarceration at their home.

For many Batswana, this is a familiar story. Young girls and boys are often vulnerable to the exploitive coercion and control wielded by parents or caregivers. Rather than protect the rights of their children, some caregivers subject them to forced or coerced labor, defilement, and underage marriage. But, unbeknownst to many people in Botswana, these situations are straightforward examples of human trafficking.

The common perception of human trafficking is rather narrow: a family friend promises a job in Johannesburg to a pretty young girl who failed out of school. She eagerly agrees and travels south in an unmarked combi. Upon arrival, she is drugged and dragged to a brothel where she is forced to become a prostitute. Her traffickers control her through physical and sexual violence, isolation, and repeated threats to harm her loved ones back in Botswana. The captors pocket all of her earnings, and she is inextricably trapped as a modern-day slave.

While this phenomenon of cross-border trafficking and sexual exploitation does indeed happen in Botswana, other scenarios are more common: the Zimbabwean man trapped on a farm and subjected to forced labour because his boss destroyed his immigration documents. The boy whose family sends him to a friend’s cattle post to become a herdboy, taking all of the money and denying the child access to school. The young woman working in the bush for a safari company whose physical isolation and meager salary prevent her from refusing her employer’s entreaty that she “entertain” the guests.

After all, human trafficking boils down to three main components: the act, the means, and the purpose. Consider the following diagram from the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime:

All of the above examples, including that of Kefilwe, constitute as examples of human trafficking.

It’s time that Batswana view them as such. Too much silence surrounds issues like underage marriage and tourism industry sexual exploitation. Too many labour practices are exploitative and in violation of individual freedoms. Too many young children like Kefilwe are denied access to education and supportive care for their individual development that are theirs by human right.

Speaking of Kefilwe, our young survivor of human trafficking has a happy ending. In her late teens, she stole away to Maun and wound up on the doorstep of a single middle-aged woman. After eagerly cleaning the lady’s house from top to bottom, Kefilwe hammered out an agreement with her: she would perform basic household tasks in exchange for food, accommodation, and the requisite school fees. Two years later, Kefilwe not only received her Botswana General Certificate of Secondary Education (BGSCE), but she went on to complete her Bachelor’s Degree at university and is now the director of a Maun-based organization for orphans and vulnerable children.

But most victims of human trafficking are not as lucky as Kefilwe. Action on this issue is paramount: national data collection, national anti-trafficking legislation, community-based awareness campaigns, stronger services and referral systems between the Social and Community Development Office and the police. Bagaetsho, let’s start now.

*Name and identifying details have been changed.

Why Batswana Youth Failed

| daniellamontemarano

Last Wednesday night, Botswana’s breaking news was big. Shocking, even.

Only one-third of Form Three* students who sat for their Junior Certificate Examination (JCE) achieved a passing grade of a ‘C’ or above.

Within 24 hours, Twitter blew up with Batswana expressing their discontent and offering up reasons for this decline in academic achievement. Behold…

@nkwasha This is a national crisis #JCERESULTS the sooner this is addressed the better, no more short cuts..

@Lishulo As citizens of Botswana, we ought to be ashamed of the #JCERESULTS and openly express such shame and disgust

@Nonofo_Milton Factors that contributed to the bad #JCERESULTS

*0.Facebook

*twerking

*Railpark

*Twizza/Chill

*Attitude

@Tshegetembes Social media is no problem but rather the attitude towards social media.please take those cell phones away from them #JCERESULTS

As for myself, I beg to differ with @Nonofo_Milton. Some students may be too distracted with Facebook or twerking to bother reviewing their notes and revisions. But this is a complex issue; not one thing is to blame. There are many reasons for why 65.7% of Form Three students may not not proceed to Senior Secondary School this year, and here are mine:

1.) Barutabana (teachers)- It’s well-known in Botswana that teachers are underpaid and under-appreciated. As a result, they are demoralized and dissatisfied. But can you blame them? They are not classified as “essential” employees of the government, and the transfer system for civil servants repeatedly uproots them from their homes and students. And, up until 2013, they hadn’t seen a government pay scale increase since 1994.

What’s more is that teaching is often seen as a vocation–a position for those who have passion for educating the next generation. But in Botswana, where the government employs roughly 60% of the workforce, teaching is often perceived as another way to earn a paycheck. When the clock strikes 4:30pm, it’s time to pack up and head home because they are just another civil servant. This is reinforced by statements from the Secretary-General of the Botswana Federation of Public Sector Unions (BOFEPUSO) in 2010, who advised teachers in light of the union-government negotiations deadlock to “only to work as per the normal hours of work for government employees…unless advised by the union leadership.” (Gazette 2010, p. 2)

It takes extra energy to invent creative teaching tools and to engage students beyond lectures. With a mindset of an ordinary civil servant and without incentives like adequate overtime pay to encourage them to go above and beyond their job requirements, teachers pass over the little things that make a difference in a child’s education: after-school tutoring, mentorship, extracurricular activities, and positive encouragement. Deficiency in teachers’ efficacy means one thing: bad test results.

2.) Batsadi (parents)- A common social problem in Botswana is the lack of parental/caregiver involvement in many children’s academic lives. As my friend Itseng put it, “We view our children’s school performance as the teacher’s job, not ours.” It’s not as if parents don’t care about their children’s academic performance; parenting culture just doesn’t involve active engagement in the learning process.

Yet, studies repeatedly demonstrate that one of the highest predictors of youth academic success isn’t household income or social status, but rather the level of engagement from parents and caregivers at home. This involves checking homework, reviewing notes, offering feedback on papers, and so on. Even illiterate caregivers or those lacking a high level of education can talk to their children about their school work on a daily basis to show interest and positive support.

Of course, there are certain parenting ills that plague the lives of Batswana children. Emotional and physical abuse, neglect, even defilement: I’ve seen these nightmares derail even the most driven students. As community leaders/activists, friends, relatives, social workers, and teachers, we have a responsibility to the children around us, especially those from vulnerable backgrounds. If you personally know a child victim of abuse, report the case to a social worker or directly to the police. Shower that child with love and compassion. Encourage him or her in their studies and life pursuits. Don’t let them give up on their future.

3.) Tsekaiso ya skolo (the education system)- A colleague once remarked to me, “The Botswana school system isn’t set up to nurture students. It’s there to weed out the smart ones from the dumb ones and to do it quickly.”

While a bit brash, this statement reveals the education system’s problematic approach to students. First, as I’ve stated before, primary and secondary school learning in Botswana is structured around children passing their exams. The vast majority of teachers instruct through lectures that encourage rote memorization instead of critical thinking and active engagement with the material. Then, when students begin preparing for their exams, they repeat phrases over and over to themselves so they can spit them out on the test. Those who don’t have adequate short-term memorization skills fail, and the few who actually do remember their notes word-for-word struggle to explain the concepts in their own unique language.

The ESL (English as a Second Language) instruction in schools is also subpar and obstructs students’ success in their other subjects. Most children attend Setswana-medium primary schools and begin formally learning English in Standard Four. When they enter junior secondary school as Form One students, the language of instruction switches to English. By that time, few students have the vocabulary and a good grasp of basic grammar and syntax to not only perform well in their English classes but also to deeply comprehend material in classes like Agriculture or Social Studies. This results in bad marks straight down their results slip.

In addition to these components, other problems abound in the education system, from large class sizes that paralyze teachers to convoluted grading systems, to subpar housing and toilet facilities for boarding students who reside on campus. Sexual relationships between students and teachers are also a frequent problem as is the absence of teachers due to refresher trainings. It’s amazing to that students can concentrate in these challenging learning environments.

4.) Goromente ya Botswana (the government of Botswana)- Who is responsible for setting education policy? Who is responsible for renovating decrepit building structures and public facilities so that children can enjoy a positive learning environment? Who is responsible for investigating and resolving issues of corruption and illicit student-teacher relationships? Who is responsible for managing teachers–for incentivizing their performance, for improving their working conditions, for firing ineffective instructors?

The government of Botswana. Step up to the plate, guys.

5.) Baithuti (students)- Of course, some of the responsibility for the high failure rate belongs to the students themselves. At the end of the day, these youth hold their future in their own hands. They know the consequences of going through life without their Junior Certificate. They see their peers who failed their exams in years past sitting at home in a daze of malaise and hopelessness. Despite the overwhelming odds against them, these youth should stand up and push back against a system that sets them up to fail.

Right now, you should walk away from this blog post with one number in your head: 12,744**.

12,744 young Batswana will not proceed with their education this year.

12,744 young Batswana will not attend university or college.

12,744 young Batswana will most likely sit at home, unable to find employment.

12,744 young Batswana will not achieve their dreams of a higher education and a better life.

*For my American readers, here is the “educational translation” from the Botswana system to the American system.

School Botswana United States
Primary School Standard One First Grade
Standard Two Second Grade
Standard Three Third Grade
Standard Four Fourth Grade
Standard Five Fifth Grade
Standard Six Sixth Grade
Standard Seven Seventh Grade
Junior Secondary School Form One Eighth Grade
Form Two Ninth Grade
Form Three Tenth Grade
Senior Secondary School Form Four Eleventh Grade
Form Five Twelfth Grade

**The original posting of this blog on January 29, 2013 cited the number of children who will not advance to Form 4 to be 25,206. Later that day, the Daily News released an article stating that 26,200 students who sat for their JC exams will proceed to Senior Secondary. Now, the number of youth who will not advance is 12,744.