This morning I woke up to find that slugs had once again made a buffet of the cucumber and squash plants in my garden overnight. I have tried everything. I’ve scattered egg shells around the base of the plants, set beer-can traps and even purchased a biological pesticide to keep them at bay. Nothing seems to work. After my morning coffee, I’ll head to the local garden center to replace the plants and start over. The privilege to do so is not lost on me. I have a good job and access to capital. I can buy books and take gardening courses, and I have access to a network of fellow gardeners who can offer guidance. Luckily, I don’t rely on the food I grow to sustain my family. I can simply pop down to the local grocery store and buy the produce that fails to grow. More importantly, I’m not at risk of suddenly losing the right to use the land on which my garden grows. My biggest worry is slugs, and this I know is a luxury.
In developing nations around the world it’s mostly women who are responsible for producing the food that feeds their families. Those women are not as blessed as I have been. Many do not have access to education and training. They lack access to capital to replenish livestock and purchase essentials, such as quality seed and fertiliser. Even if they could obtain a loan, land tenure insecurity discourages them from investing. And while non-government organisations (NGOs) do help, the aid they offer is sometimes completely unsuitable.
This was never more apparent than when I visited Tanzania in 2014 on an Exposure for Development (E4D) tour through the International Federation of Agricultural Journalists (IFAJ). The farms we visited on the 10-day tour were mostly run by women whose lists of needs were long. Some lacked extension specialists with expertise in crop disease. Others needed fertiliser to feed depleted soils. A cassava farmer complained about the underdeveloped local supply chain. She said it kept her from selling her crop at a profit.
Near the base of Kilimanjaro, we met a group of dairy-farming women who had come together to form a cooperative, an initiative previously unheard of in the region. Under their founder, fearless matriarch Elinduma Ngunda, the cooperative has been a great success. Their hard work caught the attention of a local NGO that later donated stainless steel equipment for making yogurt. The women, however, were unfamiliar with yogurt, and they had no idea how to work the complex equipment. It sat unused in their tiny processing facility, a luxury item that served no purpose. The NGO had wanted to help, sure, but it did not fully understand the cooperative’s needs.
In my travels I’ve seen clear cases where the right kind of assistance can empower women and help lift them out of poverty, though. The Hilltribe people of Chiang Rai, Thailand, for instance, have been able to capitalise on growing demand for organically-produced eggs through an NGO that focused on building self-sustaining businesses rather than simply offering donations. Hilltribe Organics has helped women like Wiyada Pinidkam fund her children’s education. She is the true definition of a woman empowered.
In Vietnam, I saw what can come of encouraging knowledgeable women to take up leadership roles. When the people of Bắc Ninh province in northern Vietnam selected 75-year-old Man Thi Hoi as chairwoman of the local agricultural co-operative (a role previously only held by men), they did so because she was the most successful rice farmer in the region. Her knowledge and expertise have helped local women choose strong cultivars and best management practices that offer them the best chance of success.
These strong women were on my mind as I read a recent FAO report. It found that gender inequalities account for a 24% gap in productivity between women and men on farms of equal size – a gap that’s costing the world an estimated $1 trillion. If half of small-scale producers benefited from developmental interventions that focused on empowering women, it could significantly raise the incomes of some 58 million people and increase the resilience of an additional 235 million. That’s a lot of woman power.
So how do we address gender inequality in a way that it strengthens women? A good place to start is by providing funding in the form of microloans. Aside from access to land, the biggest challenge women in developing countries face is access to capital. Without assets, it’s easy for traditional banks to pass them over.
Organisations like Kiva.org (in Swahili, Kiva means unity) aim to help women access the capital they need to build successful businesses. Kiva is a non-profit organisation that uses crowdfunded microloans to better the lives of borrowers. The organisation is present in more than 70 countries and works with more than 300 ‘Field Partners’ that screen borrowers, post loan requests to Kiva for funding, and disperse loans. Donors contribute as little as $25 and as much as $500.
At last count, 81% of borrowers were women, and most of them are seeking loans to expand/improve farm operations. For instance, Ayzada is seeking a loan of $1,775 helps to buy cattle to increase her income from cattle breeding in Kyrgyzstan. Kellen needs a loan of $2,100 to buy more cows and calves to rear in Uganda.
According to their website, Kiva has a repayment rate of 96.4%, which means the money you lend will very likely come back to you. One downside is that some of the ‘Field Partners’ or microlenders charge hefty interest rates. Information on the lenders and their rates can be found on the individual profiles.
What I like about Kiva is that it’s not simply a charity that gives money. The microloans farmers receive help them to build successful businesses that lead to self-sufficiency. And with that self-sufficiency comes a confidence and strength that can be passed on to the next generation. This is how you strengthen global food security.