A survey of 1,000 philanthropists revealed that many donors simply do not know of organizations that devote their efforts to women and girls. Some donors feel the issues facing women and girls are too complex and the remedies too hard to scale up – as if this is an informed assessment of the possibilities. If we understand how many women live in poverty, we can see that as a measure of extreme need in virtually every area of women’s lives: education, health, housing, livelihood, and protection from violence.
Current national surveys on philanthropic giving do not consider “women’s and girl’s issues” (W&GI) aa a distinct giving category. Instead, it gets bundled into pre-existing categories such as ‘human services’ – which get about 12% of charitable dollars each year.
The Women’s Philanthropic Institute found that between 2000 and 2014, 1,226 gifts worth $6.22 billion were directed specifically to W&GI. The figure represents just 1.6 percent of all gifts included in the data. At the same time, women’s funds and foundations have estimated that only 5 – 7% of all foundation giving is directed specifically to W&GI.
This range – between 1.6% and 7% – is indeed a troubling commentary on the disconnect between donors and the needs of women and girls. Women Moving Million co-chair Jacqueline Zehner believes women donors hold the key to unlocking the potential of women and girl around the world. I am certain she is right.
My home, the San Francisco Bay area, one of the wealthiest urban areas in the U.S., ranks 45th in charitable giving. We improve this by learning about the work being done to empower the neediest women of our community, and putting serious money into it.
Women’s Centers International has a well tested Model for advancing the skills and power of marginalized women. It’s an every-day effort to fund the implementation of that Model where it’s needed. More committed women donors will make the effort exhilarating for all of us.
I’m so humbled and inspired by the women who’ve told me that Baraka Women’s Center changed their lives. A teacher who volunteers to help women learn to read in write. A woman who was abused and missing her front teeth last time I saw her looks fresh and vital (all new teeth), has a successful business selling fruits, and helps women in the slums get government allowances to send their kids to school – and is on the BWC Board. Women learning to manage money in group ventures. A lady who started three businesses after her training at BWC. An older woman who was in the Adult literacy
Program and wants badly for it to start again. Old allies still help as best they can. Never enough money for all that needs doing. We’ve drawn up a budget for the next 17 months – through 2019. Five major programs, four paid staff, a passel of trainers, a bigger office (SO needed!). In Kenya Shilling it looks daunting: 8.3 million. But works out to US$83,000. Such vast and positive effects for a relatively small amount of money. Seems it should be out there and moving here pronto. You can also contribute to BWC through WCI’s website.
BWC’s new Board clearly has committed itself to rebuilding the Center to its former glory – and beyond. They want to register BWC as an NGO to allow them to establish Centers all around Kenya. It’s a brilliant plan. However, it will have to wait until BWC itself is financial stable with new staff on board. Fortunately, many of the right individuals have presented themselves.
Walking in something I enjoy but maneuvering on busted-up concreted with ragged deep holes and the occasional protruding metal objects, in the midst of hundreds of harried people, enveloped in clouds of exhaust fumes, is not my idea of healthful exercise. On a previous trip, I mistook the energy for a kind of exuberance, but now I realize it’s a frantic response to an environment that is simply not worthy of human habitation.
Teresia escorted me to a couple of slums. She feels, and I agree, it’s necessary to understand where the members come from. The main thing that scares me about these raw poverty pits is that they continue to exist year after year without improvements. Lately, the government’s priorities appear to be displacing residents to build roads. The residents are fighting the move; at minimum, they want land to resettle.
On the street, I see solders toting AK47s, beggar children in filthy clothes, lurching, yowling drunks, people carrying heavy bundles on their backs or bicycles or battered hand-pulled carts. A new skyline with the tallest office building in Africa takes shape above them. Housing seems an afterthought.
Above: some of the beautiful fashion accessories handcrafted by BWC’s members. I have samples! You can contact me directly – Susan@WomensCentersIntl.org – about purchasing. BWC is building this business to support the livelihoods of many women.
Keep up to date on WCI’s work with Baraka Center and news Center sites HERE
Continuing my journals from two-weeks at Baraka Center in Nairobi...
Sunday 22 July 2018
Most Kenyans go to church on Sunday. Not necessarily formal churches as we know them, but ‘pop-up’ gatherings in various halls. The singing excites the soul. I like to walk to get my bearings and often am accosted by children and young adults asking for money. I do not respond when people call out to me ‘muzungu’, a term for anyone white. I did hear my first “madame muzungu” call-out. Gave me pause.
On this morning’s walk, I passed four boys, about 10-years old, two curled on the sidewalk and two huffing glue from plastic bottles. Their brains will be irretrievably destroyed in no time. I also passed two women with five young children sleeping on filthy cardboard on the sidewalk. For women, I gladly offer enough shillings to get through the next bit of her hungry journey. I stopped in a small park where men curled in sleep dotted the grassy areas. Lovely plantings of trees and shrubs whose names I need to look up; the park a small oasis except for scattered piles of human shit.
Much like Oakland’s city government, Nairobi’s is unable to contend with the problem of
homelessness. Slums, both small and large, occupy bout 60% of the City. Efforts to build new (or restore deteriorating) apartment buildings that are affordable are about as rigorous as in the Bay Area – which is to say, largely absent.
Tomorrow I’ll be meeting with BWC’s new Board of Directors. The options for programs are as vast and varied as our imaginations, but the goal is to get back the basic programs like Adult Education, Computer Training, Entrepreneur and Leadership Development. Underfunding cannot forever limit progress, no matter how instructive ‘scratching around’ might be. Life is way too short to worry every month about paying the bills. Been there, done that – and it was in no way gratifying. Surely there is enough money in the communities – both in the Bay Area and in Nairobi – to support this work for the most vulnerable women.
I met a few of the women who attended BWC’s earliest (2013) workshops on Entrepreneurship. They’ve created successful small businesses that keep them housed
and fed. Teresia buys from them whenever she needs certain supplies, and supports some enormously talented bead craftswomen through displays at craft exhibitions. (More on this in the next post.)
Some of the young women in the Hair and Beauty Skills Training cannot read or write. Some shelter in a local church that provides cardboard mats on the floor for sleeping. They are always ready to eat at the Center. Mostly PB&J and milk tea.
In terms of WCI’s big picture, I’m working on a way to integrate the Women’s Centers Model into humanitarian response to refugee crises. Oddly, ‘gender equity’ is still merely part of the humanitarian agenda, and not yet integral – as it must become.
Monday 23 July 2018
BWC’s new seven-member Board of Directors met today. I’m impressed by their can-do attitude. They bring enormous creativity to networking for the funding BWC deserves.
Photo from left: BWC Board members Teresia Waikuru, Shelmith Njeri, Wanjiru Ngigi, Beatrice Ongoto, Grace Wangari, Peris Wanjiru, Emily Kiboi
Tuesday 24 July 2018
For the first time in my work in Africa, I visit a hospital devoted to mental illness. Mathare Hospital, a large campus bordering on Mathare slum is, I’m told, the largest such hospital in Africa. Many single-story units sprawl among islands of lawn and trees. The unit Teresia took me to was for women. Stepping through an iron gate, I am accosted by at least a dozen women, offering to shake my hand, asking me my name. They seem like starved creatures eager for a new experience. Evidently a mzungu will do. Large signs forbid photo-taking on the grounds; I offer the link below to provide some idea of the neighboring slum.
We came to see a 42-year-old woman Teresia had brought in two weeks earlier after a call for assistance from a local chief. Seems she was shouting and creating a distrubance for a long time. Evidently she’d reached the break point. Not surprising given that she’d been serially raped, had no family, and was separated from a young son born of one of the rapes.
At the sight of Teresia, she fell into her arms, sobbing. A number of patients gathered to greet us, inquiring about my name and wanting to hold my hand long after the handshake greeting. I saw restless women milling about, aimless. One sat on the ground, unmoving from what looked to be a painful position. Another sat weeping loudly nearby. We were escorted to a small office through which staff and patients freely roamed. The staff make notes in large yellow files; no computers in evidence. A large hand-written sign on a wall describes the processes of admission and assessment. Mental health issues still carry much stigma in Kenya, shrouded often in elements of witchcraft. The patient we’d come to see would be released later in the week, but that got complicated when the doctor in charge did not show.
A flock of patients escorted our departure through a locked gate. Some were rubbing my hand as if for good luck. Teresia opined that some of them might believe a muzungu has such power. I felt their inquisitive touch on my hair and sleeves. I’m sure their stories would make me weep.
Arrived in Nairobi via Rome and Doha. About 11,000 air miles and 10 time zones. I should be recovered from jet lag a few days before I return to the Bay.
Baraka Women’s Center is organizing a 6th Anniversary fundraiser following a week-long fundraising workshop with Kenya Community Development Foundation (KCDF). A new Board has been selected to work on this event and others related to fortifying and expanding BWC’s work.
I’m spending most of my time with Teresia Waikuru, Baraka Center’s Manager. The Center has moved a couple of times since early 2016 when a strange ‘coup’ was organized by the first Center Manager in concert with formerly trusted colleagues, to undercut Teresia’s authority. Despite numerous betrayals and weird intrigues, she prevailed in her vision for the Center. Currently it’s on the lower level of a commercial building in Ngara, one of the poor neighborhoods near Nairobi City Center. The Center is a single room about 12×15 feet. Space for a desk, file cabinet, supplies, and an area dedicated to a vocational program teaching women hair styling and related salon skills. Poor lighting from two weak tubes on the ceiling. Unlike an earlier site in Pangani, seriously too small. Put 20 people in it, and you’ve got no room to move. The search is on for a bigger space – and money to support expanded operations.
As with Oakland Center, eating is a regular group activity, but not nearly as elaborate. Today’s lunch was spiced rice with bits of meat. Some days it’s PB&J. Heavy carbs to fuel up. And always milk tea.
Most non-Kenyans drive or are driven where ever they go. I walk to the Center from a little hotel about a half-mile away. People stare at me curiously and a few offer friendly greetings. I’m beginning to get my bearings; my last visit here was three years ago. The equivalent of 2 cents will get you a bus or matatu ride downtown. Matatus are basic passenger vans seating 15-17 people. Some are tricked up with slogans and art. Too many have aggressively loud music.
Weather is much like the Bay Area’s this past May: cool, cloudy days in the 70s, maybe a splash of sun in late afternoon. The long rains are couple of months away. The Great Migration has started in the Masaai Mara.
Busted-up sidewalks splattered with trash are the norm in Ngara. The main street in this neighborhood is lined with second-hand clothing and shoe dealers. Some hawkers sell slices of pineapple or roasted corn on the cob. A whole block of fabric stores, mostly run by Indians, many here for generations.
I’m so proud of how Teresia and a few key allies (including two devoted sons, Christopher and Alexander) have nurtured and expanded the Baraka Center vision against big odds.
Strange to wake up in nearly complete disconnect from people, habits, my usual work. I had forgotten what it’s like to feel rested. I’m lonely but, to a large extent, cannot bear the company of others. The reset process is terrifying that way. Becoming untethered, bumping about to find the new and right tie-downs to anchor a rebooted vision.
I had high hopes that 2018 would be less ass-whoopin’ than 2017. It has, so far, just extended the ‘proving ground’ of my life.
The recent months of turbulence of my daughter’s life – the loss her beloved dog, a move to a new home – certainly roiled my soul. My husband spent a month seriously ill with pneumonia and a month recovering. Concurrently, the loss of Oakland Women’s Center. Four years of work – good and productive efforts – could not survive what the brilliant singer Jessica La Rel referred to in an intro to her song All We Could Do (I paraphrase here): a scary unwillingness of people to step up to work that needs doing and is bigger than just them.
No pressure. No diamonds.
One thing I’m sure of: a Women’s Center has the most enthusiastic uptake where women have no reliable backstop or support: military conflict zones, slums, and refugee camps. Parts of most major cities are ‘war zones’ for the disenfranchised, but city governments tend to lack incentive to rally/deliver support for the community-restoring power of women. Baraka Women’s Center in Nairobi has made good headway over the past five years, but could be so much stronger with reliable funding.
I believe that women generally are unaware of – or incredibly soft-spoken about – their egregiously compromised ‘position’ in the world. Witness enduring pay inequity, inferior health care delivery – especially mental health services, and pervasive violence against females of all ages – to name just of few of the fixable injustices of millennia–old, swallowed-whole patriarchal values.
I have enduring faith in the efficacy of the Women’s Center Model to help build restorative power bases for women.
I need more and stronger allies to help refine and expand and fund Women’s Centers.