Speaking of cars, some things I have observed about cars and driving. They may or may not generalize:

1. When your project owns the cars, your drivers will be happy, enthusiastic types who show real commitment to your work. When you hire contract drivers who own the cars, you get cranky hard-cases who begrudge every extra mile they drive. Of course, contract drivers are also a much better financial choice.

2. The polite thing to do is to sit in front next to the driver, unless you’re in a high threat environment. In that case, sit in back so you can both dive to safety if there’s gunfire.

3. If you’re sitting in a parked car on a hot day, the best way to keep cool is to open your door and roll up the window, to divert any breeze you get into the car.

4. How to get into an ancient Landcruiser while wearing a skirt: Stand next to the car, facing forward. Put your left foot up onto the running board, and hold the grab handle with your left hand. Step up and pivot into the car, leading with your left hip. Slide into the seat. If you need to get out at some point, you are on your own. I haven’t mastered that yet.

5. Earplugs are a nice solution to the open window = noise, closed window = stifling hot dilemma. I like the kind you squish with your fingers. Obviously, this is a bad choice if you are the driver. In that case, roll up your own window and make your passengers open theirs.

6. You can back a 4×4 surprisingly far into an open drainage ditch without breaking an axle.

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Photo Credit: tjflex2
Chosen because I really hope I never have to do that with a car.

Here’s the problem; it doesn’t seem to work. The phones aren’t that useful to the people living in the villages. Having access to the phone had “absolutely no impact of the phones on trading activity or availability of goods in local markets” and very small (non-significant) impacts on profits and measures of well-being (school enrollment, consumption of meat, etc.)

They also don’t provide significant income to the phone owners. “Their hours worked rose significantly both for their new phone business and for their already-existing businesses, but their profits and wages paid did not rise…” In other words, the phones were a bad investment.

Combined with the recent studies finding that microfinance doesn’t have the hoped-for impact on poverty, we’re rapidly running out of magic bullets.

Those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter may not know that I am attending TED India as a fellow next week. TED is a conference devoted to problem-solving and unexpected solutions; the theme for next week in Mysore is “The Future Beckons.”

I’m pretty excited about the conference, and I am hoping to learn a lot. But I’ve never been to a conference like this before; I’ve only ever been to technical conferences like the APHA annual meeting, or Global Health Council. Inspiration and ideas are a whole new deal for me. So, since my readers are some of the smartest people I know - how do I get the most out of this? What kind of sessions do you think I should attend? Should I write down what I learned every night? Have any of you been to TED? Anything I should prepare for?

These are my (arbitrary, personal, non-evidence-based) rules of thumb for identifying good development work:

Bad signs
1. Starting out by buying cars.
2. Claiming to work in “Africa” without specifying a location.
3. More than four partners in your implementation coalition.
4. A local to expat ration of less than 5:1 (10 or 15 to 1 - or more - is far better.)
5. Planning/budgeting for more than 4 visits from HQ a year.
6. Extensive use of international interns.
7. Using program staff as translators and interpreters.

Good signs
1. National staff in management positions over expats.
2. Terrifying, highly experienced financial staff and a rigorous financial reporting system.
3. Close collaboration with government on its lowest level – with city, town and village authorities.
4. Sharing of monitoring and evaluation data with the communities the projects works with, and training those communities on how to review the data.
5. A clear vision of what the target area (group, community…) will look like once the project is over and what will have changed. Approval from the target area/group/community of the vision, and support for it.
6. Extensive use of paid local interns.
7. Specific rather than standardized indicators for monitoring and evaluation.
8. Translators on staff.

PS - Thanks to Brendan for reminding me why I write.

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Photo credit: Citizensheep
Chosen because, you know, judging, justice…look, it’s not easy choosing images.

This blog – and my writing in general – is starting to get more public attention, so I think it’s a good time to remind everyone of something. I’m not special. This is not false modesty or some self-esteem issue. It’s a fact, and it’s a fact that makes me happy. I like working with brilliant people. I don’t know anything that everybody else who has worked in development for ten years or so doesn’t. When other people who work in this industry read the blog, they’re not amazed by my insight or any such. Mostly, they nod in agreement. (That’s why the comments section is so friendly.)

I am the person who has the time and inclination to write down the stuff that everybody knows. I’m not ashamed of that. Codifying accepted wisdom is a useful role. It helps outsiders understand the system, and helps insiders find their common ground. It gives everyone a clear, shared view, and that can catalyze change and system improvements.

In health systems, I believe that the people already in the system - doctors, nurses, patients – already have most of the information they need to make the system better. That’s the core of continuous quality improvement. In our international aid system, I believe that the people who actually implement projects hold a lot of valuable information. I am proud to be part of bringing it out and recording it.

I’ve got the time to write this blog, and I think that writing it makes me better at what I do. It’s a constant examination of my work – the assumptions behind it and the impact it has. I benefit from that, and I think that the projects I work for also benefit. I hope that reading this is useful to other people. But don’t mistake this for something unique.

People who work in development are amazing people. They think about their work all the time, obsessively. They try to figure out how to do as little harm as possible, and they search all the time for ways to improve their impact. Most of them are smarter than me, and know more. Most of them are too busy doing their work to want to blog about it. I’m the one who likes to write. That’s all.

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photo credit: tellumo
chosen because it’s a truly awesome disclaimer

Exhibit A:
2002. I’m in Turkmenistan, my first job that requires ongoing negotiation with government officials. I am in the anteroom at the Ministry of Health, for my introductory meeting. I am very, very nervous. Natasha, our project manager and my translator for this meeting watches me fidget. She tells me “I will translate what you say, and if I don’t understand something, I’ll just stop and ask you.” I calm down. She’s literally not going to let me say anything stupid.

Exhibit B:
Rural Turkmenistan, beginning a long gauntlet of meetings with doctors, hospital directors, and local health officials. They are good, friendly meetings that build our rapport and help our programs succeed, sometimes catch a small problem before it gets big, but they get tiring after a while. I sigh a little as I get out of the car. My colleague Zulfia hears me. “Alanna,” she says “just keep smiling that American smile.”

I’d only been at my job for about two weeks, and Artur and I were sent off to look at some field sites. We were in Ferghana City in Uzbekistan, waiting on the tarmac to board our plane. It was very very cold, and the flight crew was only boarding transit passengers from a Russia flight. We stood there, shivering and waiting. They boarded all the Russia passengers and then they waited some more, I guess just in case more transit passengers showed up. My bones were starting to ache with the cold, and still we were waiting.

And then Artur got sick of it. He shoved me in the back and told me “You’re American. Just keep speaking English and get us on that plane.” So I did. I climbed the stairs as a woman yelled at me, and when she told me “transit only,” in Russian, I told her, loud and in English, that I had a ticket, I was tired of standing around in the cold, and I was going to get on the plane. I did this in my best haughty American voice, and when she argued in Russian, I just repeated myself louder in English. I spoke both Russian and Uzbek, but this was not the time for reasoned communication.

The woman cracked. She said something rude to me in Russian and let me by. I was followed by a joyous stampede of other passengers. When I got on the plane, there were lots of empty seats. Artur and I flew to Tashkent with an empty seat between us.

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Photo credit: yuriybrisk
That’s not the Ferghana airport, but it looked just like this.

Note: August is looking like a crazy and stressful month for me, with no time to blog here. To make sure no one gets bored and abandons me, I am going to re-run some of my favorite posts from the past.

Most forms of monitoring and evaluation annoy me. Instead of serving their true – and vital – functions, they are pro forma decorations created externally and staple-gunned onto a project once it’s already been designed. Usually a clean-looking table featuring a timeline and a list of indicators they plan to measure. I loathe those tables, for a lot of reasons.

Monitoring and Evaluation are not the same thing. The purpose of monitoring is to observe your program as you do it, and make sure you’re on the right track. The purpose of evaluation is to determine whether you are meeting your goals. These should not be confused.

Let’s use a hypothetical project. Say you’re trying to reduce infant mortality rates among young mothers in rural Bangladesh. That’s your goal. You need to start by defining your terms. What’s a mother? Just women with children, or pregnant women too? And exactly how old is young? So, decide you want to work with pregnant women and women with young children, and they must be under the age of 25. How do you want to keep these children alive? You decide to teach young mothers how to take care of sick children, and how to prepare nutritious food.

Your monitoring should make sure you’re reaching as many young mothers as possible. It should make sure that your educational efforts are well-done include accurate information. It should make sure you’re reaching young mothers, and not grandparents or childless women. Are you actually doing the stuff you said you would? Are you doing it well? That’s monitoring.

Evaluation is about whether you’re reaching your goal. You could be doing great education on children’s health and nutrition. Your young mothers could love your trainings, and lots and lots and lots of them could attend them. Your trainings could be amazing. But improving mothers’ knowledge may not actually decrease infant deaths. That’s what your evaluation will tell you - if your program actually achieving your goal.

What do these questions have to do with the neat little table on page 17 of your proposal? Very little. Monitoring, to be useful, needs to be constant. It can be based on very simple numbers. How many teachers/doctors/lawyers/mothers have you trained? Are the trainings still attracting participants? When your master trainers observe trainings, do they still like them?

Once you start getting answers to these questions, you need to use them. That’s why it’s better if managers collect monitoring data themselves. If participants don’t like your trainings, find out why, and fix it. If you’re not training enough people, maybe you’re not scheduling enough trainings, or maybe you’re not attracting enough participants. Monitoring is like biofeedback. Observe. Measure. Make your changes.

Evaluation happens less often. You’re not going to see impact in a month, maybe not in a year. Annually is usually often enough for evaluation, and you can get an outsider to do it. The important thing about evaluation is that your team needs to believe in it. If you get to the second year of your project, the project your team loves and you’ve given your blood and sweat to it, and the evaluation says it is not having any impact – your heart breaks into a million pieces. It is tempting and easy to simply decide the evaluation is wrong and keep wasting money on a project which just doesn’t work. You need a rock-solid evaluation you can trust so that if it tells you to change everything, you actually will.

(photo credit: leo.prie.to, chosen because I have no idea what it means)

Note: August is looking like a crazy and stressful month for me, with no time to blog here. To make sure no one gets bored and abandons me, I am going to re-run some of my favorite posts from the past.

You can’t just choose any random person to be your cultural guide. It makes me completely crazy when people say “My Luisitanian colleague says our poster and brochures are fine” and then assumes their messages are acceptable in Luisitania. One person cannot vouch for everyone in the country.

Most countries are multicultural, including different ethnic and linguistic groups. Not to mention differences between rich and poor, and city and country. It’s not easy to know the tastes and opinions of an entire nation. There’s also a training issue. Your average engineer or doctor from the capital city isn’t in the habit of thinking about the attitudes and mores of everyone around him. An accountant is not an anthropologist.

Most of us can only speak for a limited number of people like ourselves; coming from a developing country doesn’t give you any magic ability to speak for everyone who holds the same passport.

ETA: One great example. The Indian Vogue fashion spread discussed here was designed and shot by Indians.

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Photo credit: sakraft1
Chosen because to me, pith helmets reflect everything that is culturally clueless. For all I know, teddy Roosevelt was a very culturally sensitive man…

Note: August is looking like a crazy and stressful month for me, with no time to blog here. To make sure no one gets bored and abandons me, I am going to re-run some of my favorite posts from the past.

Give money. Don’t send food, bottled water, clothing or useful-seeming stuff. Give money.

Your old stuff costs money to ship. It is almost always cheaper to just buy it in country, and doing it that way benefits the local economy. It’s also more respectful to survivors of humanitarian emergencies, and allows relief agencies to procure exactly what is needed instead of struggling to find a use for randomly selected used junk. Disaster News Network talks about the used clothes problem in “The Trouble with Trousers.” which features a really depressing anecdote about Hurricane Hugo.

Your food costs money to ship, too. It is probably not food anyone in the recipient area would recognize. How exactly will the people of Burma know what to do with canned refried beans or artichoke hearts? Sending donated American food doesn’t drive income to local farmers or help local retailers start selling again. Buying in-country gets food people will actually understand how to cook and supports the local economy.

Here’s another example – some people wanted to send their old tents to China to house earthquake survivors. A sweet idea – provide quick, free housing. But every different kind of tent would have different set-up instructions, and how many people save their tent instructions once they’ve learned how to do it? It would take a huge time investment in figuring out each type of tent, and then training for the people in China who had to set up the tents. All of this time translates to a delay in providing housing, and it’s time used by paid staff, which means it is also squandered money.

Interaction, the coalition of disaster-relief NGOs, has a nice piece about why cash donations are most effective. They mention needs-based procurement, efficient delivery, lower costs, economic support, and cultural and environmental appropriateness as advantages of cash. World Volunteer Web has a good explanation too, breaking down the myths about post-disaster aid.

Usually people end these kinds of articles with links to the three or so places who will take your old clothes and possessions for international donation. I am not going to do it. Don’t waste everyone’s effort that way. Give your old stuff to Goodwill, the Salvation Army, or St. Vincent de Paul; they’ll make the best use of it. They’ll sell yout things locally and use the money for their charitable purposes.

Giving stuff instead of money is easy for you, it’s cheaper for you, and it’s quick. It is not quick, easy, or affordable for the NGOs who are actually trying to help people.

If you want to help, give money.

[Picture of old clothes in Haiti from Flickr by Vanessa Bertozzi]