It was one of those days. I had a void to fill, a yearning that I couldn't put my finger on. That void led me to a local grocery store that carries the most delectable corn nuts I have ever tasted. Ok, a temporary fix, but corn nuts would do. As I headed to the store my car radio was tuned into BBC. I listened to an interview with Matt Flannery, the founder of Kiva.org, a new micro finance organization. I pulled over to take notes. Kiva was me, mine, a void filler in the finest form. Kiva, meaning unity in Swahili, would allow me to help fund a small loan to an entrepreneur in a developing country, through their website and paypal. I immediately related to the concept.
Twenty years ago, while fleeing an abusive relationship in San Diego, I ended up on my Sister's doorstep in Seattle. I left with very little, some clothes, my sewing machine, my bag patterns, $40.00, and the remains of my self-esteem. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to reinvent my life, but how?
I had started making leather handbags as I worked my way through fine arts school. It was something I had a passion for, and a trade I had always fallen back on. Starting my bag business in Seattle's Pike Place Market was my new goal. Without a clue as to how this dream would be funded, a caring neighbor offered me a loan to do just that. That was the beginning of Brown Bags. Along with that loan, came an upgrade to my self-esteem. Someone believed in me enough to take a risk. I paid that $800.00 loan back within a year.
Knowing how my own micro loan experience had changed my life, I had no doubt that Kiva.org would allow me the opportunity to give back, change someone else's life. By putting the money directly into their pocket, an entrepreneur has the opportunity to create their own niche in their community. It allows them to do what they do best, and support their families at the same time.
So, with corn nuts in hand, I hurried home to place my first loan on Kiva. I logged onto the site and found several people in need, all from the town of Danli in Honduras. As I read their bios, I fell in love with all of them. My $50.00 budget was soon out the window as I ended up loaning $200.00 to four different businesses. My first loan was to a retired woman who opened a beauty salon in her home, "The Lovely, Lovely Beauty Boutique". What a lovely, lovely name, I thought. She still had children at home to raise. Her loan was to be invested in acrylic nails. $50.00 to her.
I then found a cab driver who called his business "Faster Than Light Taxi". The nerve of this guy won my loan dollars. $50.00 to him. I loaned to a woman who had a clothing store, and to a family with a fruit and vegetable stand. Placing my first Kiva loans was indeed a "lovely, lovely" experience. It made me feel like a real tycoon. I had fantasies of visiting Danli, paying incognito visits to the four new enterprises in my life. Over the following year, as my Kiva portfolio grew, so did my sense of adventure. I wanted one!
Now, I've never been one to "put things out to the Universe". It's not my style. I work too much. I don't have the time. I did however, really want an adventure, so I gave it a try, and oh my God, it worked! One morning upon awakening, I made the announcement to my two dogs, "I want an adventure". They thought that meant a walk, and got very excited. Just then, the phone rang. It was Fiona Ramsey from Kiva, with a proposition for me. Would I be interested in being in a documentary about micro finance? It would involve travel to Ecuador, uniting me with Maritza Quinonez, a mother of two, and a sandal maker, to whom I had loaned $50.00. Without hesitation, I said yes.
After a few days it began to sink in and I realized that a documentary would involve a camera pointed at me. Ick. No hair or makeup on this shoot , either. Oh boy! Universe, Help Me!
I had a couple of months to prepare. I remodeled my studio, and made an attempt to learn a little espanol. My online Spanish course provided daily lessons. I listened and repeated as I worked on my bags. I learned to say such useful expressions as "I want to meet Antonio Banderas. I need to meet him now." I really wanted to meet Maritza, and I was going to. Lo siento, Antonio.
In July, Nick Kennedy from Electric Sky productions arrived in Seattle to shoot my debut in "Penny Revolution". The filming went well. It wasn't as painful as I had expected. He put me at ease in front of the camera. As Maritza made her loan payments I received updates about her progress, submitted by Mifex, a field partner of Kiva in Guayaquil. They are the organization working on many levels to fight poverty in Maritza's community. Mifex is responsible for finding the businesses in need of loans. Without them, there would be no Maritza in my life. From these updates, I learned that Maritza had done well with her loan. With some of the funds and the help of her brother, she built a workshop, and had started to build a new cement block home for her family.... with $250.00! In contrast, that $250.00 in my pocket would pay for two facials and a cup of coffee. Or is that two cups of coffee and a facial?
Meanwhile, while working overtime in preparation for my upcoming Ecuador trip, I received another call from Fiona. She asked me how my day was going. "Could be better" I replied. My car was in the shop, and the plumbing in my house was backed up. She told me to sit down. Would I be available to travel on August 29th to Chicago? Hmmm, I smelled another adventure. She said "Oprah", and I began to lose all feeling in my body. Me? On Oprah? No way! Within a week Oprah's production crew over took my tiny home and filmed a story about my lending experience with Kiva. A few days later, I was in Chicago shooting Oprah with Matt and Jessica Flannery, the Kiva founders, and Bill Clinton. Clinton writes about Kiva in his new book, Giving, which was the topic of the show. This was a big moment in the life of Kiva. After the show aired, all of the available loans were filled. Next stop...Ecuador!
My feet had hardly touched the ground until I landed in Guayaquil. It was show time. We stayed at The Sheraton near the airport. In the morning I found my way to the breakfast buffet. As I grazed my way through the buffet, I struck gold. Corn nuts! For breakfast! The breakfast of the Incan's. They were soft and roasted to perfection. This was no coincidence. I was home.
We met Robert Edgar of Mifex in the lobby. He would be introducing me to Maritza and to Isla Trinitaria, the suburban slum where she lives. We were accompanied by two armed guards. Without their presence, we would be in trouble.
We walked the dirt roads as the camera rolled. Isla Trinitaria is a shantytown built up around the banks of the Guayas River, settled by squatters some 20 years ago. We walked by open trenches, soon to house water pipes, a new addition to the community. Until recently Maritza has had no running water. We arrived at Maritza's. There she was. Her eyes avoided mine. Robert translated that Maritza was tired from the heat. It was a scorcher, and there was no shelter from the sun. Her new workshop was still without a roof. I handed her a bag of gifts, to break the ice. It worked. Before long it felt like a big family reunion with kids, dogs, friends and relatives everywhere. Maritza's home was full of life and love.
She made a pair of sandals for me, and I gave her a bag I made for her. We spent time looking at each others work. Her sandals have style, and I could tell that she has a real passion for her work. She's doing what she loves. I was proud to be a part of her life. I bought eight pair of sandals from her. That's all I could carry home in my bag.
I left Maritza's full of hope. I witnessed the system working! Kiva.org, Mifex and other micro finance institutions are putting the dominos in place for us to win the war on poverty. I will continue to put my faith in these organizations, and to loan through Kiva. I urge others to do the same. It's a lovely, lovely experience.