On the heels of the amazing press we got yesterday, I’ve been thinking a lot about this statement from the Economist article: “Millions of poor would-be students could benefit (from microfinance student loans).”
Millions. Mmmmmiilllions. That’s a mighty big number no matter how easily is rolls off your tongue.
Stay tuned for an upcoming post on just how many potential students we think are out there waiting for loans, but right now, I want to make that number just a little more personal. If millions of potential students seem too big to imagine, and therefore too easy to not think about, I’d like to introduce you to a family I met one day in Peru.
Meet Rosas. I wish I had a picture of him for you, but due to a much maligned camera-stealing incident that happened many months after I met him, those real photos are gone for good. So word pictures will have to do. He’s a small man, shorter than I am, wiry but obviously strong. He tells me that he’s 48, but I would have guessed at least a decade older. He’s missing a few teeth, but he’s got a bright and easy smile that comes quickly and fills his face with friendliness. He’s a farmer in the high mountains (10,000+ ft) around Huaraz, Peru, where he and his family raise sheep, corn and of course Peru’s famous potatoes.
I met Rosas while hiking through some of Huaraz’s surrounding villages. He was heading back up to his hill-side home from his office job in the small town off the main road. Many people in this part of rural Peru are farmers in addition to holding jobs in the town, if they can get them. We met along one of the rocky and muddy paths that criss-cross the mountains. He overtook us and offered to guide us up the hill (I would have called it more of a mountain) to make sure that we found our way.
The village of Huaraz and surrounding moutains (photo by still searching)
During our walk, a boy in a school uniform ran past us down the path. With his bookbag flapping over his shoulder, it was obvious to see where the boy was going. I asked Rosas about it, and he mentioned that the closest school was actually a few towns away and this boy was running to catch one of the hourly combis (minivans that act like local commuter buses) on the main road. It was already almost noon. When I wondered out loud if he was already late and Rosas responded that many of the kids have farm chores to finish before they can head to school, and with a few miles to walk each way, and then a bus ride on top of that, students are often left with only an hour or so in the classroom each day. And yet, they still go. As we continued up the path we saw at least a dozen more students, ranging in age from 6 to 18, hurrying down past us on their way to school.
Back here in the States, school doors are officially open and I’ve been seeing the perky yellow school buses making their way around town, picking up and delivering their charges. As I was on that hill, I realized the obvious fact that there are a lot of folks in this world who’ve never seen a school bus; never sat on those hard high-backed seats or hidden from a spitball war started by the older kids in back. As irksome as many of us may remember those bus rides, it’s a luxury nonetheless. Sometimes it’s the strangest things that make your breath catch in your throat.
During our climb, Rosas talked about his family. He had four daughters, and as the conversation turned toward their education, I was pleased to learn that two had finished university already and two were still getting their degrees. This seemed to me like a phenomenal ratio for any family, especially considering the hardships students faced to just finish their secondary schooling. As I learned some of the other details of his story though, the bloom soon came off that rose.
All of his daughters went to public university, which isn’t exactly free, especially considering books and living expenses, but Rosas and his family had been able to afford it, with his wife, his brother and sister-in-law all pitching in to support the family. But recently, times had been tough and Rosas said that he was having a hard time keeping his daughters in school. There had been a corn blight for the past six months, which, now that he’d mentioned it, I could see in the barren fields around me. He also talked about how the government was challenging the farmers’ water rights in the area, so they were concerned about next year’s harvest.
It was easy to see from the look in his eyes, the fear of a concerned father not wanting to disappoint his children. I felt almost cruel telling him about Vittana when he asked about the work I do. It felt cruel because I knew his girls were perfect candidates for our student loan products, and yet there wasn’t a bank within 300 miles of him that would offer him that type of loan.
Or rather, there is no bank, yet.
And that “yet” is what gives me hope.
I’ve been back here in the Vittana offices for just a few days now, but even in that short period of time I’ve watched our Partnerships Manager, Nick, make miracles happen on a daily basis as he finds new microfinance institutions to partner with, and new ways to help them be successful. In fact, just yesterday we uploaded about a dozen new students from Nicaragua, who are shining examples of folks who used to be in the same position as Rosas’ daughters, but who are now able to look forward to a much brighter future.
I’ve also watched the extreme generosity of our lenders – the people who are the real “doers” of this work – the engine grease that keeps this machine running so smoothly. Or, to use a more appropriate metaphor, they are our heart; they pump energy and passion (and of course, cash) into our work in a way that turns all the “not yets” into “hell yesses!”
So maybe the folks of Huaraz, Peru don’t have access yet to student loans. And maybe they don’t have school busses. I don’t think I can do much about the school bus situation, but I get pretty darn excited about the fact that I can (and we are) doing something about the student loan situation. Perhaps one day in the not-too-distant future, that young boy I saw racing down the hill to school will be going to college with a Vittana loan.
And that’ll be better than any school bus.
(School bus photo by Twix)
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