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The Politics of Microfinance: A Comparative Study of Jamaica, Guyana, and Haiti
by
Caroline Shenaz Hossein
A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctorate of Philosophy
Political Science University of Toronto
© Copyright by Caroline Shenaz Hossein 2012
ii
The Politics of Microfinance: A Comparative Study of Jamaica,
Guyana, and Haiti
Caroline Shenaz Hossein
Doctorate of Philosophy
Political Science
University of Toronto
2012
Abstract
The microfinance revolution of the 1980s acclaimed micro-credit as a tool that would
improve the lives of economically active people trapped in poverty. The 2006 Nobel prize
awarded to Mohammed Yunus and Grameen Bank confirmed for the industry’s advocates
that microfinance was a panacea, and billions of dollars have been channeled to financial
services for the poor. However, a series of high-profile scandals in 2010 shook development
agencies’ faith in micro lending, and support has waned in light of evidence that
microfinance alone cannot change structural inequalities and end poverty. I show that politics
operate throughout the industry, reproducing inequalities within the process of micro lending.
In my political ethnographic study of 460 people in three countries, I find that race and class
politics is entrenched in all three countries, yet there are different outcomes related to
attitudes of microfinance managers. In Jamaica and Guyana, micro lenders demonstrate that
historically rooted racial and class biases go beyond gender to determine the allocation of
micro loan resources. Ingrained biases interfere with the allocation of loans to the urban poor
because discriminatory practices reinforce pre-existing social divisions. The Haiti case is
iii
hopeful: lenders, particularly the caisses populaires (credit unions), are made up of socially
conscious people who recognize the country’s exclusionary politics. Managers and staff have
class origins similar to the clients they serve and view micro loans as a tool to contest class
and race-based oppressions. Haiti’s case suggests that collective systems such as those found
in the caisses populaires and informal banks are effective because they relate to people’s
history; and managers influenced by the masses, organize financial programs that are
responsive to their clients and remain free from elite capture. This bottom-up approach in
microfinance determines a greater level of social transformation for the urban poor.
iv
I dedicate this thesis to:
My maternal great-grand-mother, Maude Gittens, a susu banker in Trinidad who held
onto an African tradition that still continues in the Caribbean.
My paternal grandfather from Guyana, Mahboob Hussein, who encapsulated the very
business people I write about in this project.
v
Acknowledgments
The people in this acknowledgement were vital to this project. My husband, Shayan
Sen, a PhD mathematician, has helped me navigate this journey and always knew how to be
supportive and caring.
I returned to graduate school as a mature student with a decade of field experience.
After completing my Masters at Cornell, I thought about a doctorate, but as a first-generation
university graduate in my family, I opted for the world of work. In the 1990s, I packed my
bags and headed to Egypt for a few months, then onto Benin (West Africa), and the U.S. to
work in international development, and later to Niger to manage a village bank. While living
in Niamey, Niger, in 2004 I emailed Richard Sandbrook, an Africanist scholar (Toronto),
about doing a doctorate and his reply convinced me to return to school two years later.
I thank those who came before me from lands as far away as India and Africa, who
then settled in the Caribbean and later migrated to North America. My family is made up of
small entrepreneurs from various parts of the Caribbean, such as Guyana, Grenada, Trinidad
and St. Vincent. I thank my mum, Jacqueline (an Afro-Trinidadian-Vincentian), and my dad,
Isaac (an Indo-Guyanese), who have given me much love and support. My siblings, Annie
and Chris, understand the messy terrain as immigrant children in two (sometimes three)
worlds. Other members of my family kind enough to listen to me over these years were
Jolanta, Bibi, Rasheeda, Grannie, and the Sen clan in both Ireland and India, especially Ma
and Baba.
Judith Teichman has been my mentor from the very start, first guiding me to be a
teaching assistant, then as my teacher, and later as my thesis advisor. After years of doing, I
was finally learning about development, and I am indebted to Judith and my committee for
this. Louis Pauly, Chair of Political Science, made me refine my work’s relevance to the
discipline and he always did so in a caring way. Njoki Wane, also my teacher, advised me
with ease and worked closely with me on perfecting my theoretical approach, methodology
and advising me on ways to make my work relevant to policy makers. I also want to thank
Joe Wong (my teacher) who was not a committee member but was like one as he spent a lot
time on my project discussing its methodology and broader implications.
During the past four years, I moved around in three countries to carry out extensive
field work. Hundreds of micro business people in Jamaica, Guyana, and Haiti made this
project possible by taking risks to speak to me. And I have many generous souls to thank for
keeping me safe and informed. Let me start off with my talented assistants in Jamaica:
Althea, Ackney, Wayne, Brian, Betty, and Mary; and in Guyana, Shebeca. In Jamaica, my
friends made my stay enjoyable and opened up their hearts and homes: Maxine Henry-
Wilson, Sharene McKenzie, Brenda Cuthbert, Rhea Alert, Kim-Marie Spence, and Henley
Morgan. Much gratitude goes to the Beharry family in Tiger Bay for also hosting me. Thanks
to Sankar, Danny, and Michael for teaching me about life in Guyana. In Haiti, my good
friends Raoul Jean-Louis and Marie-Marcelle St. Gilles always gave me sound advice. Since
2008, Eric Calpas, Sylvain Luxon and Sergine Pierre assisted me in various stages of my
vi
fieldwork. And I am grateful for the lovely family dinners at Magali and Siniorr Raymond’s
home in Bel Air, where we talked politics and microfinance.
During my Fulbright program in Jamaica, I was fortunate to study under John Rapley,
the then-president of the Caribbean Policy and Research Institute (CAPRI) who gave me
detailed comments on my interview tools. I am indebted to the team at the CAPRI team:
Orena Hinds, Katrina MacIntyre, and Laura Levy, who organized my seminar Topsy Turvy
Microfinance in Downtown Kingston on 26 October 2009. And I could not ask for a better
panel: Damian King, Joseph Matalon, and Richard Troupe. I was also lucky to study at the
University of the West Indies (UWI), where I grew as a researcher under Anthony Harriott,
Chair of the Government Department. Many thanks to Norma Davis at the SALISES library.
The good folks at STATIN and Angie Taylor of the PIOJ assisted me in finding data. Many
others scholars at UWI were generous with their time, such as Claremont Kirton, David
Tennant, Mark Figueroa, Errol Miller, Damien King, Michael Witter for the Jamaica case. I
will miss my goat curry lunches with the late Barry Chevannes.
In Guyana, Kadasi Ceres, Chair of the Government Department, motivated me in a
difficult research environment. Scholars at the University of Guyana (UG)—such as Michael
Scott, C.Y. Thomas, and Freddie Kissoon—were generous with their time. I also thank
Niebert Paul for all her friendship while I was a visiting researcher at the International
Development Studies program. UG’s Librarian Malcolm Williams was most helpful in
tracking down obscure sources. I found the staff at the Statistics Bureau in Guyana and the
Cartography department resourceful. I thank all the activists in Guyana—many of whom I
cannot name because of the possibility I may put them at personal risk—who made me aware
of the political environment. In Haiti, Louis Herns Marcelin of the University of Miami and
INURED and Suzy Castor of CRESFED coached me well during my visits.
My friends are all over the world and yet they manage to stay in touch and support
me: Suzette Strong, Kemba Saibou, Ibe Ibeike Jonah, Donna Alleyne-Francis, Chandra
Shoomoogum, Karla Bjordammen-Orr, Amina Ally, and Star Thurston. I miss the late Aniko
Mesaros. At University of Toronto, this world was a much gentler place with colleagues like
George Ojambo (coach), Teresa Kramarz, Jen Catallo, Celine Cooper, Adwoa Onuora,
Charmaine Stanley, Sui-Mei Ooi, Danielle Pinto-Levy, Donna Outerbridge, Mark Purdon,
and Pauline Beange (read a draft). Special thanks to very good friends Rebecca Sanders
(Thai lunch pal), Khaled Ahmed (carrel neighbour) and Sarah Eaton (my big buddy) for
always checking in on me. My best friend in the program was Agnes Mochama (read my
conference papers). Thanks to Robarts’ librarian Elaine Genius. Several colleagues have
been great to me: Radha Rajkotia, Ron Howard, Meagan Andrews, Wendy Koch, Quy
Nguyen, Pat Morris, Evelyn Stark, Kim McKeon, Julie Redfern, Corey McCruden (read
chapter 1), and Anita Campion.
None of this work would have been possible without money for my study. I thank
U.S. Fulbright and the U.S. State Department for funding my Jamaica field work (2008–
2009). Special thanks to the IIE’s Cara Wollinsky; UWI’s administration’s Camille Bell-
Hutchinson; and the U.S. Embassy in Jamaica’s Bernadette Hutchinson, the late Angella
Harvey and my Fulbright colleagues Lynn Washington, Chello Rogers, and Reena Goldthree.
Much gratitude to IDB’s Claudia Stevenson, Carina Cockburn, Jempsy Fils-Aimé, Sergio
vii
Navagas, Mark Wenner, and Navita Aganu, as well as OPM’s development team, Jason
Dennis and Dana-Marie Morris, with whom I shared some of my findings in a study. At the
University of Toronto, Lisa Haley at the School of Graduate Studies awarded me travel funds
to Haiti and Guyana in 2010. The Department of Political Science provided an annual
fellowship, the Frank Peers Award (2009–2011), and the Royal Bank Scholarship (2010) to
carry out field work in Guyana. Carolynn Branton, Liz Jagdeo, Louis Tentsos and Leanne
Thompson helped me administratively and with grants, including the Ontario Graduate
Scholarship. Le Centre d’études de la France et du Monde Francophone (Toronto) allowed
me to carry out my fieldwork in post-earthquake Haiti. Many thanks to Tina Lagopoulos of
the Center of International Studies, Munk Centre for processing the Val Duncan Award to
Guyana. I am grateful for an academic grant I received from the Gender Studies program,
and to Marion Reed who processed it. Audrey Glasbergen, Gail Copland, Janet
Roopnarinesingh, and Brigitte Gonzalez assisted me administratively throughout my six
years as a teaching assistant at UTSC.
Academics in various countries trained me to become the thinker I am: Sheldon Wein
(Saint Mary’s University); Jane Arscott (then Dalhousie); and Cornell professors, the late
Arch Dotson, Salah Hassan, and Muna Ndulo. As well, Cornell’s Gerry Levine and Brigit
Shipman were kind to support my Fulbright application. At the University of Toronto, the
scholars who assisted my learning in some way were Jazira Asemova, Al Berry, Alissa D.
Trotz, Ken Bartlett (my teacher), Linda White, Dickson Eyoh (my teacher), Donald Schwartz
(ethics review), David Welch, David Rayside, and Richard Stren. Roberta Rice was an
excellent teaching supervisor. OISE students and professors welcomed me into their
department on many occasions. I thank my colleagues at the National Conference of Black
Political Scientists, who have made me feel welcome since my first year. And, I am also
grateful to the support of my new colleagues in the Social Science Department and the
Business and Society program at York University.
So much of my thinking process benefited from ideas of students and academics I
met along this journey. Students in my course “Economic Development Programs in the
Global South” (Toronto) helped me reflect on old material in a new way. Benson Honig’s
(McMaster) small business research in Jamaica helped sharpen my analysis. Chapter 6 was
presented as a paper, “Rethinking Gender and Identities in Downtown Kingston,” at the June
2010 Canadian Political Science Association Conference (CPSA) in Montreal, and Allain
Noel (Montreal) made many useful comments. An early version of Chapter 3 (Jamaica case)
was presented at the CPSA meeting in 2010, where Tim Shaw (UWI, Trinidad) and Laura
MacDonald (Carleton) made helpful suggestions. My methodology section in Chapter 1
benefited from the critique of Julie Novkov (Albany) at the American Political Science
Association meetings, September 2010. Duncan Cameron (Simon Fraser) and Anders
Hayden (Dalhousie) also gave me insightful comments on my presentation “Politics of
Microfinance” at the CPSA conference, June 2011. Gavin Fridell (Trent) made thoughtful
comments on my paper at the 2012 IDS conference at Saint Mary’s, and Kate Higgins
(North-South Institute) and Kari Polanyi-Levitt (McGill) offered helpful suggestions at the
Canadian Association for International Development conference. Susan Promislov edited
early conference papers, which would later become part of the thesis. And John Firth edited a
first draft of my thesis. Colette Stoeber deserves much credit for making my work readable
and its format consistent.
viii
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements v
List of Acronyms ix
List of Tables xvi
List of Figures xviii
List of Appendices xix
Nomenclature xx
Chapter 1: Introduction 1
Chapter 2: Historical Legacy and Current Politics 58
Chapter 3: The Jamaica Case: Exclusionary Micro Lending in the Slums 112
Chapter 4: The Guyana Case: Racial Exclusion in Micro Banking 171
Chapter 5: The Haiti Case: Inclusive Home-Grown Microfinance 202
Chapter 6: Gender, Female Privilege, and Microfinance 241
Chapter 7: Conclusion: Politics of Microfinance Compared 280
Appendices 321
Bibliography 353
ix
List of Acronyms
ACCESS Access Financial Services
ACLAM Action Contre la Misère
AIR Agency for Inner City Renewal
AIC Alternative Insurance Company
ASCA Annual Savings Clubs and Associations
AFD Agence Française de Développement
AFI Approved Financial Institution
APB Association des Professionnels de Banques
ANACAPH Association Nationale des Caisses Populaires Haïtiennes
ANIMH Association Nationale des Institutions de Microfinance d’Haïti
ACME Association pour la Coopération avec la Microenterprise
BCA Banque Crédit Agricole
BGB British Guiana Bank
BNSJ Bank of Nova Scotia Jamaica
BPH Banque Populaire Haïtienne
BRH Banque République d’Haïti (central bank)
BOP Base of Pyramid
CIDA Canadian International Development Agency
CPSA Canadian Political Science Association
x
CAFRA Caribbean Association for Feminist Research and Action
CAPRI Caribbean Policy and Research Institute
Carib Cap Caribbean Capacity Project
Carib-Cap I Caribbean Capacity Project I
CDB Caribbean Development Bank
CMFA Caribbean Microfinance Alliance
CMN Caribbean Microfinance Network
CRS Catholic Relief Services
CRESFED Centre de Recherche et de Formation Économique et Sociale pour le
Développement
CCCUL Churches Cooperative and Credit Union Limited
COKCU City of Kingston Credit Union
CDC Community Development Councils (Guyana)
CNC Conseil National des Coopératives
CDF Community Development Funds (MIDA)
CDF Constituency Development Funds (in Jamaica and Guyana)
CGAP Consultative Group to Assist the Poor
COPE Credit Organization for Pre-Micro Enterprises
DDL Demerara Distillery Limited
DID Développement International Desjardins
xi
DAI Development Alternatives Inc.
DBJ Development Bank of Jamaica
DFLSA Development Financing Limited South America
ESSJ Economic Social Survey of Jamaica
DOL Development Options Limited
FL Fanmi Lavalas (Aristide)
FDI Fonds de Développement Industriel
FHAF Fonds Haïtien d’Aide à la Femme
FINCA Foundation for International Community Assistance
Fonkoze Fondasyon Kole Zepol
GBTI Guyana Bank for Trade and Industry
GAIBANK Guyana Cooperative Agricultural and Industrial Bank
GUYMIDA Guyana Manufacturing and Industrial Agency
GRAIFSI Groupe d’Appui pour l’Intégration de la Femme du Secteur Informel
GSBA Guyana’s Small Business Association
GYD Guyana Dollar
HCDC Hope for Children Development Corporation
MIF Multilateral Investment Fund (of the IDB)
ISI import substitution industrialization
ICIs informal commercial importers
xii
ID Initiative du Développement
IDB Inter-American Development Bank
IFC International Finance Corporation
IMF International Monetary Fund
INURED Interuniversity Institute for Research and Development
IPED Institute for Private Enterprise Development
JACCUL Jamaica Association of Cooperative and Credit Union League
JAMFA Jamaica Microfinancing Association
JaMicro Microcredit Limited
JLP Jamaica Labour Party
JNBS Jamaica National Building Society
JNSBLL Jamaica National Small Business Loans Limited
JPS Jamaica Public Service
JSIF Jamaica Social Investment Fund
JSLC Jamaica Survey of Living Conditions
JBDC Jamaican Business Development Agency
JCC Jamaican Chamber of Commerce
JMD Jamaican Dollar
JSIF Jamaican Social Investment Fund
KNFP Konsey Nasyonal Finansman Popilè (rural and/or productive network)
xiii
LAC Latin America and the Caribbean
MP Member of Parliament
MCL Micro Credit Limited
MCN Micro Crédit National
MED Microenterprise Development
MEFL Micro Enterprise Financing Limited
MIDA Micro Investment Development Agency
MFIs microfinance institutions
MARNDR Ministry of Agriculture
MEF Ministère d’Economie et de la Finance
MPC Ministère du Planification et de la Coordination
MINUSTAH Mission des Nation Unies pour la Stabilisation en Haïti (UN military)
MIF Multilateral Investment Fund
Nation Growth Nation Growth Microfinance Bank
NCB National Commercial Bank
NDFJ National Development Foundation of Jamaica
NDCs Neighborhood Democratic Councils
NDM New Democratic Movement
NGOs Non-government organizations
OPL Organisation du Peuple en Lutte (Préval)
xiv
OPL Organisation Politique Lavalas (Aristide)
PADF Pan American Development Foundation
PNC People’s National Congress
PNP People’s National Party
PPP People’s Progressive Party
PIOJ Planning Institute of Jamaica
PAR Portfolio at Risk
PSOJ Private Sector Organization of Jamaica
QiFD Quisqueya for International Development
RBTT Republic Bank of Trinidad and Tobago
ROSCAs Rotating savings and credit associations
SSF Self-Start Fund
SEP Self-Employment Program
SALISES Sir Arthur Lewis Institute of Social and Economic Studies
SBCI Small Bank Credit Initiative
SBAJ Small Business Association of Jamaica
SBDT Small Business Development Trust
SDC Social Development Commission
SOFIHDES Société Financière Haïtienne de Développement
SPM Social Performance Management
xv
Sogesol Société Générale de Solidarité
Sogebank Société Générale Haïtienne de Banque
STATIN Statistical Institute of Jamaica
SAPs Structural adjustment programs
UN United Nations
UNCDF United Nations Capital Development Fund
USAID United States Agency for International Development
UQAM Université de Québec à Montréal
UG University of Guyana
UWI University of West Indies
UWI/Mona University of the West Indies at Mona
WOCCU World Organization of Cooperatives and Credit Unions
WOW Women of Worth
WPA Working People’s Alliance
xvi
List of Tables
Table 1.1: Poverty Levels in Jamaica, Guyana, and Haiti
Table 1.2: Female Perspectives in the Study
Table 1.3: Breakdown of Types of Interviewees by Country
Table 1.4: Methods Used to Interview Business People
Table 3.1: Number of Interviews/Sample Size for Kingston, Jamaica
Table 3.2: Major Micro Lenders in Kingston (2009)
Table 3.3: Perceptions of the Political Affiliations of Select Microfinance Actors
Table 3.4: Political Referrals for Micro Loans by Gender
Table 3.5: Types of Discrimination by Slum as Expressed by Interviewees
Table 3.6: CDF, Political Party and Micro lenders
Table 3.7: Interviews with Three Banker Ladies in the Slums
Table 4.1: Guyana’s Micro/Small Business Lenders (2010)
Table 4.2: Ethnic Group of Microfinance Managers (Guyana)
Table 4.3: Perceived Racial Identities of Bankers by Hucksters (2010)
Table 4.4: Gender and Racial Breakdown of Hucksters Interviewed Who Applied for loans
Table 4.5: Micro Loans by Race and Gender (2010)
Table 5.1: Caisses Populaires and Sol: Major Micro Lenders (November 2010)
Table 5.2: Race/Colour of the Heads and Technical Staff in Haitian MFIs (2011)
Table 6.1: Female/Male Access to Microfinance in Jamaica
xvii
Table 6.2: An Analysis of Micro Loans by Gender and Race in Allbouystown, Guyana
(2010)
Table 6.3: Gender Analysis of Microfinance in the Three Cases
xviii
List of Figures
Figure 1.1: Photo of a Street in a Kingston slum
Figure 2.1: Photo of a State Banner (Guyana)
Figure 3.1: Race of Jamaican Micro Lenders
Figure 3.2: Location of Micro Lenders (2009) (Jamaica)
Figure 3.3: Microfinance Lenders and Party Politics
Figure 3.4: Map of Downtown Kingston
Figure 3.5: Anti-Partisan Feelings in the Slums
Figure 3.6: Self-Exclusion and Access to Microfinance (Jamaica)
Figure 3.7: Financial Models and the Needs of Inner City Business People
Figure 5.1: Map of Microfinance Penetration in Haiti (USAID map)
xix
List of Appendices
Appendix 1.1: Elite Interviews and Discussions - Microfinance Lenders and Stakeholders
from 2008 to 2010
Appendix 1.2: Interviews with Micro-Entrepreneurs in Jamaica, Guyana and Haiti (2009 and
2010)
Appendix 1.3: Sample Interview Tool <Micro Business persons, Jamaica>
Appendix 3.1: Description of Slums in the Study
xx
Nomenclature
Out of respect for the ordinary people I met, and in the tradition of Jamaican,
Guyanese and Haitian scholars, I choose to use the local dialect as much as possible. In the
Jamaican and Guyanese cases, I use the patois (or local Caribbean English dialect) for
quoting interviewees. For my interviews, I wrote down the responses in patois. Only in a few
instances do I translate the Creole English to Standard English, as I assume that the language
and words are so similar to Standard English that the reader will understand the meaning.
Kreyol (creole French) is the national language of Haiti and mother tongue of most Haitians,
and it is a language derived from French. Where possible, I use Kreyol words and I make
translations usually in English or French if the meaning is not apparent.
1
Chapter 1 Introduction
We believe that poverty does not belong to a civilized human society.
It belongs to museums. This summit is about creating a process,
which will send poverty to the museum. Only sixty-five years after
the 12-second flight of the Wright brothers, man went to the moon.
Fifty-five years after this summit, we’ll also go to our moon. We’ll
create a poverty-free world. (Mohammed Yunus, cited in Elahi and
Danopoulos 2004)
Micro-credit emerged in the 1980s as an important tool in development circles
because of its potential to help poor people move out of poverty when many of their
countries were undergoing structural reforms. Advocates like Mohammed Yunus in the quote
above believed (and many still do) that structural inequalities can be changed by making
micro-credit accessible to large numbers of poor entrepreneurs. According to figures from
the United Nations Population Fund (2010), more than three billion people—that is, 45% of
the world’s population—currently live on less than two U.S. dollars per day and work in the
informal sector (UNPFA 2010; Collins et al. 2009, 1; Easterly 2007, 5). And while access to
microfinance is very useful for people working in the informal sector many of them are still
being excluded, this time by micro bankers.
Millions of microfinance customers are poor women living in the Global South1—
specifically, in Latin America, the Caribbean, Africa, and Asia. These business people run
owner-operated enterprises and work in makeshift locations in the informal sector under
1 The Global South comprises what is also known as the “Third World” or “developing world.”
2
severe financial restrictions (Midgley 2008, 468).2 At the very first summit on micro- credit
in Washington, D.C. in 1997, Mohammed Yunus, former Director of the Grameen Bank,
claimed that micro loans could help these entrepreneurs move out of poverty. For the past
thirty years, micro lending has been a prominent poverty-fighting tool in many developing
countries—the tool through which significant community improvement can be realized
(Bennett 2009; Khan 2009, 147; Yunus 2007a; Gulli and Berger 1999, 58).3 Huge scale has
been achieved where it is estimated that 205 million people sought financing in 2011 through
approximately 10,000 microfinance institutions (MFIs) (Reed 2012, and Roodman 2012b;
Globe and Mail 2010; MIX 2007; Daley-Harris 2006; Rhyne and Otero 2006; Wahid 1994).
Yet this revolutionized form of banking for the poor called microfinance is not a new
phenomenon. Germany’s Raifeissen—financial cooperatives that offered small loans to the
poor—first emerged in the 1880s (Roodman 2012a, 56; Guinnane 2001, 368; Harper 1998,
8). This development of cooperatives and friendly societies led to the spread of credit unions
and cooperatives, first to Europe and then to the Americas (e.g., Desjardins in Canada).4
Dunford (2009, 108) also argues that credit unions pre-date MFIs.5 In 1976, Yunus, who was
2 Hans Singer (ILO report, 1972) coined the term “informal sector” (citation in Dichter and Harper 2007). The
definition of “informal sector” in this study is borrowed from an IDB study (Webber 2000, 1). This project
examines legally owned micro enterprises that seldom pay taxes. 3 While the terms “microcredit,” “micro-banking” and “microfinance” are used interchangeably in the literature,
this study deals with “micro credit,” very small loans made to the entrepreneurial poor (Midgley 2008, 468).
The more common term “microfinance” includes a number of consumer financial services, such as loans,
savings, remittances, insurance, and business consultation services for the micro market. (See Collins et al.
2009). 4 Credit unions and cooperatives are member-owned institutions, and credit unions are legal financial
institutions usually focused on financial services and are regulated by the government. (WOCCU website,
accessed 5 November 2011). 5 Cooperatives and credit unions often contest the argument that microfinance is a recent innovation, as they
carried out small loans for members long before the concept was named. See Geertz (1962) for an analysis of
cooperatives around the world.
3
then an economics professor at the University of Chittagong, revived the concept of micro
loans in rural Bangladesh (Bennett 2009; Harper 1998; Counts 1996); and in 1983, he
officially launched the Grameen Bank, focusing on the accessibility of micro-credit for poor
rural women (Bateman 2011, 1; 2010, 1; Sengupta and Aubuchon 2008, 10; Credit where
Credit is Due 2000; Harper 1998, 33; Counts 1996, 34; Wahid 1994, 2). Yunus launched his
experiment with a personal loan of $27 to a group of 42 women stool makers (Sengupta and
Aubuchon 2008, 9; Yunus 2007a, 50; Counts 1996, 39).
Grameen Bank’s goal was to contest the exclusion of the entrepreneurial poor from
formal financial institutions, which tended to cater to the elite6 rather than to lower socio-
economic groups (Yunus 2007a, 205; 1994; Schreiner 2002, 591). The intention of micro
banking was to make sure that poor entrepreneurs were not excluded to financing by elites.
Microfinance revolutionized in the 1980s came during a period of structural adjustment
programs by the Bretton Woods institutions, and Yunus, like many others in the NGO world,
was working outside of formal financial institutions in order to get small loans to the poor so
that they could cope under harsh financial reforms.
Microfinance as a Global Phenomenon
In the pre-Grameen Bank world (prior to the 1980s), poor people working in the
informal sector had few options to access money: they obtained loans from friends, family,
local moneylenders, or politicized government agencies (Sengupta and Aubuchon 2008, 17;
Yunus 2007a, 50; Matin et al. 2002, 278; Rutherford 2000, 32). Few had access to credit
6 Jamaican scholar Don Robotham (2000, footnote 5) defines the term “elite” as “a specific minority drawn
from various minority classes that exercise political, economic, social and cultural dominance over a society or
culture.”
4
unions because these focused on salaried workers. Some relied on informal banks
(community banks or rotating savings and credit associations [ROSCAs]), which exist in
various forms all over the world (e.g., susus in Ghana, tontines in Senegal, chit in India, kye
in Korea, merry-go-Rounds in Kenya, and Partner in Jamaica) (Ardener and Burman 1996).7
In the developing world, poor women of colour organized community resources to meet the
needs of persons excluded from financial programs, most of which continue to function
today.
The political elite in developing countries, such as Jamaica, made micro and small
loans available through state-owned banks to the “small man” (poor people) excluded from
traditional financing (Matin et al. 2002, 274).8
However, across the globe, state-owned banks
(perhaps with the possible exception of Bank Rakyat Indonesia) are generally political,
inefficient, and corrupt (Robinson 2001; Morduch 2000, 620; Morduch 1999, 1570–1576).
When the state and banks excluded the economically-active poor, credit unions and
cooperatives made loans to them. Still self-employed poor persons in the informal sector had
(and continue to have) limited finance options and often resorted to informal sources such as
ROSCAs or moneylenders (Anderson et al. 2009, 18; Collins et al. 2009, 54; Midgley 2008,
468; Armendáriz and Morduch 2007, 59; Rutherford 2000, 30–35; Harper 1998, 7; Niger-
Thomas 1996, 95; Geertz 1962, 243). In the 1970s, innovative non-government organizations
(NGOs) in Bangladesh, such as the Grameen Bank and BRAC, proposed the micro-credit
7 Informal banks such as ROSCAs are made up of individual citizens who pool their own monies and take turns
borrowing a lump sum from each other (Rutherford 2000, 31–59). 8 The term “small man” is used in both Jamaica and Guyana to refer to a person who is poor and depends on the
“big man”—the wealthy person—to ensure that their basic needs are met. In Guyana the term also refers
specifically to poor persons of Black, Indian or dougla (mixed) ethnicities. (Fieldwork, Kingston, Jamaica,
2009; Georgetown, Guyana, November 2009, March–April 2010).
5
concept to increase incomes and diminish the exploitative grasp of moneylenders on the poor
(Dichter 1996, 10; Harper 1998, 26).9
Micro-credit is currently the favoured topic at global events on poverty reduction at
the U.N. and the World Bank for its inclusive financing aspect.10
The Microcredit Campaign
Summit declared in 1997 that in the future microfinance would reach 100 million poor
families (Midgley 2008, 474; Dichter and Harper 2007, 4; Elahi and Danopoulos 2004,
644),11
and the U.N. endorsed microfinance as a tool for helping meet the Millennium
Development Goal of halving poverty by 2015 because of its replicability to reach many
people.12
Eight years later, the U.N. marked 2005 as the International Year of Microcredit in
recognition of the salient role that microfinance played in the U.N.’s “First Decade for the
Eradication of Poverty” (1997–2006) in reaching 100 million poor entrepreneurs (Khan
2009, 148; Dichter and Harper 2007, 5; Daley-Harris, 2005, 2004; UN General Assembly
Meeting 2003). Awarding the Nobel Peace Prize to Mohammed Yunus and the Grameen
Bank in 2006 confirmed that poor people, especially women, are good investment risks (that
is, they repay loans) and that micro-banking can contribute to reducing poverty around the
world (Yunus 2007a, 155; 2007b). Today more than 205 million people have access to micro
loans (Reed 2012).
9 An industry aimed to include excluded groups is still replicating patterns of exclusion that is why people turn
to money lenders. See N. Srinivasan, author of Microfinance in India: State of the Sector Report 2008 (in
McLeod Arnopoulos 2010, 321) finds that the poor in remote areas are excluded from microfinance. 10
Many conferences have recognized microfinance as an important intervention: Programme of Action of the
World Summit for Social Development (1975); Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action of the Fourth
World Conference on Women (1995); Programme of Action for the Least Developed Countries for the Decade
2001–2010; and International Conference on Financing for Development in 2002. 11
Microcredit Summit Campaign website www.microcreditsummit.org, retrieved 27 June 2008. 12
MDGs emerged from the Millennium Declaration, resolution 57/266 of 20 December 2002.
6
Advocates revere microfinance as an effective tool to end hunger and poverty
(Roodman 2012a; 2012b; Rogaly 1996, 102). Klobuchar and Cornell Wilkes (2003, 26)
write: “If a social evangelist had a choice of picking one tool, one movement with the goal of
emancipating the poorest women on earth, the microcredit phenomenon wins without serious
competition.” In the eyes of supporters, then, micro-credit can do no wrong (Woller and
Woodworth 2001, 270; Hashemi et al. 1996, 635; Rogaly 1996, 105). But critics have found
empirical evidence that in certain contexts microfinance has questionable impact on women’s
empowerment and poverty reduction (Ahmed 2008; Rankin 2002; Rahman 1999; Goetz and
Sen Gupta 1996). Roodman’s latest book, Due Diligence (2012), also questions the perceived
positive impact of micro loans on the poor. However, criticizing the tool is risky, and this is
precisely because of its mission to help the poor (Bateman 2010, 34–42; Dichter and Harper
2007, 2–3). Champions of commercialized microfinance, such as Otero and Ryhne (2006)
and Drake and Rhyne (2002, 4), tout the potential of micro-credit’s inclusive nature to reach
massive scale and to increase incomes, and it is this potential that earned micro-credit its
many supporters (McLeod Arnopoulos 2010, 16; Rhyne and Otero 2006, 5; Brody et al.
2005; Woller and Woodworth 2001, 271; Morduch 1999, 1609).
The Direction of Microfinance in a Neoliberal World
By the 1990s, the microfinance industry (including the Grameen Bank) had shifted its
focus from poverty reduction to commercialization. During this period, organizations focused
on financial viability (CGAP 2006; Drake and Rhyne 2002, 4; Matin et al. 2002, 274; Wahid
1994, 11). The increased scale and profitability of micro banking, which was the result of the
7
neoliberal13
push within the sector, provoked a debate among practitioners about the original
intentions of micro-credit (Bateman 2010, 3-4; Midgley 2008, 477; Wilson 2001, 244;
Rahman 1999, 79). Institutions that were helping the excluded poor to access financial
services were being pressured by donors and investors to recover costs.
In 1992, the Grameen Bank, compelled to cover costs and commercialize its
operations, began to charge interest rates that were higher than market rates (Morduch 2000;
1999; Rahman 1999, 79; Wahid 1994, 12). Milford Bateman (2010, 21) describes this move
from a development model to a commercial model as a “new wave” of microfinance,14
and
found that supporters at both ends of the political spectrum embraced this “new wave” shift
in micro-credit towards profitability (Roodman 2012b). As Morduch stated, “Advocates who
lean left highlight the bottom-up aspects, attention to community, focus on women and, most
importantly, the aim to help the underserved. Those who lean right highlight the prospect of
alleviating poverty while providing incentives to work, the nongovernmental leadership, the
use of mechanisms disciplined by market forces on-going subsidization” (Morduch 1999,
1570). The debate between social financing and commercialization endures in the industry.
Currently, the commercial side of the industry is dominated by new wave
microfinance and a neoliberal political philosophy (Bateman 2010; Credit Where Credit is
Due 2000). It can be argued that the political project to ensure that financial institutions are
13 I used David Harvey’s (2005, 2) definition of “neoliberalism” as “a theory of political economic practices that
proposes human well-being can best be advanced by liberating individual entrepreneurial freedoms and skills
within an institutional framework characterized by strong private property rights, free markets and free trade.”
See Harvey (2005), Chua (2003), Friedman (1982) and Polyani (1944) for varied perspectives on neoliberal
politics and markets. 14
Bateman (2010, 161) suggests that the “new wave” microfinance conveniently fits neoliberalism but his view
is contested by those advocates who feel microfinance was created to make financing inclusive. In a much
earlier text, Harper (1998, 9) refers to the “new wave” as microfinance operating on a business-like model.
8
sustainable contradicts the original intention of micro-credit, which was to help poor business
people access finance. Critics of commercialized microfinance (Bateman 2011; 2010, 161;
Dichter and Harper 2007, 21; Rankin 2001, 18; Rogaly 1996, 102) claim that its advocates
(such as Brody et al. 2005; Klobuchar et al. 2003) of commercialized microfinance are
blindly committed to “money with a mission,” that is, a cure to poverty, despite the pressure
from within these institutions to be profitable. The current neoliberal influence in
development seems to indicate that micro lending as a profit-making enterprise has won over
poverty-lending approaches (Peck Christensen 2005). And many of the cooperative models
making micro loans to the poor are often overlooked.
Commercialized Microfinance: Profits and Investment
Commercial microfinance institutions (MFIs) that adhere to the tenets of economic
liberalization and commerce—such as Bolivia’s Banco Sol, Peru’s Mibanco, Mexico’s
Banco Compartamos, and India’s SKS Microfinance Bank—all have received significant
investment capital for credit despite controversy over their excessive profits and questionable
collection practices (Malkin 2008; Sengupta and Aubuchon 2008, 12-17; Navagas et al.
2000, 338; Morduch 1999, 1576). Banks that do not claim to help the poor and do not depend
on subsidies (and use their own capital) may be less controversial. The moral dilemma arises
when certain microfinance banks, like SKS Microfinance Bank and Banco Compartamos,
access subsidies and concessional loans from donors for money claiming they do banking
differently from conventional banks.
Among the donors that have provided capital for microfinance to assist poor
entrepreneurs is the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), the
9
largest donor agency in micro enterprise development since 1978, particularly in the
Americas. These investments have led to the expansion of microfinance based on a purely
commercial model (as opposed to a poverty reduction tool which governments use them for)
(Bateman 2011, 2; Midgley 2008, 270). The Inter-American Development Bank (IDB),
Caribbean Development Bank (CDB), World Bank, and the International Finance
Corporation (IFC) and the which have significant micro-credit investments in Latin America
and the Caribbean (LAC).15
In 2007, the IDB launched the Caribbean Capacity (Carib Cap)
project to increase the technical capacity of microfinance retailers in the Anglophone
Caribbean countries, and IDB’s 2012 follow-on Carib Cap project focuses on improving the
technical capacity of microfinance organizations.
IDB also provides financial support to Fonkoze (a micro lender in Haiti) and Haitian
commercial micro lenders (Fieldwork in Jamaica and Haiti, 2009 to 2011). The World Bank,
IDB’s Multilateral Investment Fund (MIF), and the International Finance Corporation (IFC)
have also had an important presence in Jamaica and Haiti in terms of capitalizing micro
bankers (Anonymous Interview IDB, 20 February 2009).16
The Consultative Group to Assist
the Poor (CGAP)—the World Bank’s agency—carries out extensive research, training, and
technical assistance, and invests in innovation in the microfinance sector (Dichter and Harper
2007, 4; Daley-Harris 2006, 2004; Rogaly 1996, 100).
15 In this study, I use interchangeably, and where appropriate, the terms “Islands,” “Caribbean,” “Caribbean
region,” and “West Indies.” All terms refer to the Caribbean countries as those belonging to the Caribbean
Community (CARICOM), including Haiti with its observer status. 16
Several IDB projects support microenterprise development projects: ATN/ME-1089-RG Carib Cap project;
ATN/ME-10342-JA, which assists rural lending expansion of MEFL in Jamaica; and ATN/ME-10862-JA,
which provides risk management and operational management to micro, small, and medium enterprises often
excluded from conventional banks.
10
On his first trip abroad as U.S. president, Barack Obama launched a $100 million
dollar Microfinance Growth Fund for Caribbean countries at the Fifth Summit of the
Americas, themed “Securing Our Citizens,” in Trinidad and Tobago on April 17-19, 2009.17
This pledge reiterated America’s commitment to microfinance in the region and aligned with
the local states’ needs to invest in slum communities vulnerable to transnational crime. I
posit in this project that an investigation into the financial aid to micro loan programs is
needed to better understand whether micro loans are helping the economically active or
whether they are contributing to further instabilities and local conflicts.
Private investment vehicles from the West also support profitable MFIs and they do
expect a return on investments. Pierre Omidyar of eBay, the Bill and Melinda Gates
Foundation, the Michael and Susan Dell Foundation, and Bob Pattillo of Gray Ghost have all
invested billions in commercial microfinance (Bruck 2006).18
At the start of 2000, 89% of
the capital of MFIs came from bilateral and multilateral agencies (CGAP Focus Note No. 25
in Chowdri and Silva 2004). By 2012, private investments from such groups as Blue
Orchard, MicroVest Capital Funds, and Sarona surpassed foreign aid in microfinance.
Corporate foundations, such as the MasterCard Foundation in Toronto, have made grants in
microfinance. In 2005, Kiva, the world’s first on-line micro-lending platform, allowed
middle-class individuals to also make investments in micro entrepreneurs in the Third World.
17 Obama declared a new partnership among the Multilateral Investment Fund (MIF) at the IDB, the U.S.
Overseas Private Investment Corporation (OPIC), and the Inter-American Investment Corporation (IIC), for the
purpose of launching a new Microfinance Growth Fund for the Western Hemisphere. See
www.whitehouse.gov/the_press_office/The-United-States-and-the-2009-Summit-of-the-Americas-Securing-
Our-Citizens-Future, retrieved 18 April 2009. 18
eBay founders created in November 2005 the Omidyar-Tufts Microfinance Fund (OTMF) with USD $100
million. See www.tufts.edu/microfinancefund. Atlanta, Georgia’s, Bob Pattillo operates the Rockdale
Foundation, Gray Ghost Microfinance Fund, and Gray Matters Capital. See more at
http://www.grayghostventures.com/
11
Big investors have capitalized commercial microfinance banks, and thousands of MFIs seem
to be striving to attract capital investments from major investors. Billions invested into
micro-banking is intended to stabilize countries, yet there are questions to consider: Are these
resources being managed properly? And does internal politics complicate the profitability of
these institutions?
The Main Debates in Microfinance
Micro-credit, as mentioned above, was sold to the world as an effective tool to
combat poverty in the late 1970s. By the 1980s, many development projects had micro
lending activities attached to them. The 1990s saw a trend to commercialize micro lenders,
resulting in an entire sector committed to best practices to ensure that micro lenders were
profitable retail entities with full recovery (as a business). While the result of this push
towards commercialization has only been around one hundred profitable MFIs, the focus of
investors and donors on profitability shifted microfinance from its original intent of poverty
reduction and improved social impact to market-driven ideas of financial success (Bateman
2010; Khan 2009; Roodman and Qureshi 2006; Morduch 1999, 1609; Dichter 1996, 10;
Rogaly 1996, 101). Economists and anthropologists (Bateman 2011; 2010; Easterly 2007;
Harriss 2002; Kothari 2005; Rankin 2002; Mayoux 2001; Rahman 1999) provide significant
evidence that microfinance retailers ignore local politics, unequal social structures, and
vertical hierarchies, and that all of this reduces poor people’s access to development and
12
economic resources.19
This shift in the 1990s from a poverty reduction mission to the seeking
of financial sustainability (and profitability) has profound implications.
Many scholars from various academic fields (Maclean 2010; Rankin 2002; Molyneux
2002; 1986; Hulme 2000; Rahman 1999 and Rogaly 1996) argue that microfinance cannot
help the poor everywhere and in the same way. Veltmeyer (2007), Rahman (1999), and
Goetz and Sen Gupta (1996) suggest that the concept of empowerment, when incorporated
into social and economic programs (such as microfinance), is often used to appease the poor
without making positive transformational change in their lives or larger society. Vonderlack-
Navarro (2010), Rankin (2002), and Rogaly (1996) argue convincingly that micro lenders
take a minimalist approach, one that is focused on repayment of micro loans and failing to
create positive collective economic action.
Growing controversy over excessive profits in micro lending has raised questions, for
example, about lenders like Bolivia’s Banco Sol, the world’s first commercialized MFI,
whose high rates of return from interest have made the enterprise very lucrative. Critics are
concerned that micro loans do not help the poor entrepreneurs. For example, in 2008, outcry
was raised against Mexico Bancos Compartamos, whose enormous profits—which allowed
Compartamos to have an initial public offering on the Mexican stock market—came at the
expense of its low-income female clients (Bateman 2010, 22; Malkin New York Times 2008;
Sengupta and Aubuchon 2008, 16). In another example, in 2010 Indian state and civil society
leaders reprimanded SKS Microfinance for its unethical collection practices, high interest
rates, and (reportedly hidden) services fees. MFIs that have chosen the path of
19 Easterly (2007, 117) questions whether money to help the poor will actually reach them in corrupt states.
13
commercialization have become very profitable, recognizing the high demand for very small
loans and the fact that that poor entrepreneurs are willing to pay high interest rates for access
to financial services (Roodman and Qureshi 2006; Drake and Rhyne 2002).20
While commercial retailers make access to credit available to excluded people, this
type of retailing has a negative side. The Microfinance Banana Skins Report “Microfinance
Losing its Fairy Dust” in 2011, suggests that excessively profitable commercial micro
lenders pose a reputational risk to the industry. Yunus (NYT 14 January 2011) labels such
Indian micro lenders as the “new loan sharks” of today. Eighty microfinance-related suicides
were reported in the state of Andhra Pradesh, India, in December 2010 (Bateman 2011, 86).21
Poor clients harassed and shamed by MFI staff for not repaying loans, killed themselves for
debts of less than US $800. In response, Indian officials issued ordinances to regulate and
cap interest rates on micro-credit (various articles in the Economist, Wall Street Journal and
New Times between October and November 2010). Advocates of microfinance, particularly
private microfinance firms, see the federal government’s swift reaction to curtail private
lenders as a political act, claiming that the state’s motive is to limit private competition with
state-run self-help loan programs.
The evidence of the beneficial effects of micro debt is thus mixed. Skeptics cast
aspersions on microfinance’s supposed intention to help the poor given the questionable
20 This aligns with Prahalad’s (2006, 8) findings that there is money to be made at the base of the pyramid
(BOP), and that when companies find a way to service this huge market, huge profits can be made.
21 “India Microcredit Faces Collapse from Defaults,” NYT, 17 November 2010.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/18/world/asia/18micro.html?_r=2&hp=&pagewanted=all, retrieved 20 Nov.
2010. See also a PBS broadcast on India’s microfinance issues: http://indiamicrofinance.com/microlending-
india-pbs-news-report.html Also visit Reuters to read Flex Salmon’s “The Lessons of Andhra Pradesh.”
<http://blogs.reuters.com/felix-salmon/2010/11/18/the-lessons-of-andhra-pradesh/>, retrieved 18 Nov. 2010
14
activities of some managers and staff working inside the microfinance sector (Microfinance
Banana Skins 2011; Rhyne 2011; McLeod Arnopoulos 2010, 317; Ahmed 2008, 122). The
perceptions that microfinance can do no wrong, that its managers are champions of the poor,
and that it restructures formal finance in a way meaningful to social progress no longer exist.
This study provides insights into the activities of these micro-credit lenders and examines the
local politics and motivation of the people in charge of this worldwide phenomenon.
Micro Banking, Poverty, and the Caribbean
Micro enterprise lending to the poor is not new in the Caribbean region. In Jamaica,
Haiti, and Guyana, African slaves and their descendants carried out market activities and
engaged in informal micro banking (N’Zengou-Tayo 1998; Wong 1996; Witter 1989; Mintz
1955). Penny Bank in Dominica opened in 1949 (Barriteau and Cobley 2006; Lashley 2006).
In fact, the 2008 visit of Mohammed Yunus, then-director of Grameen Bank, to speak to
business people at the Jamaica Pegasus Hotel (in uptown Kingston) underscored the
importance of microfinance to Jamaican business elites (Collister 2008).22
Yunus also visited
Port-au-Prince, in October 2011, where he met not only with clients of Grameen’s Creative
Lab, but also with high-ranking officials and donors (Fieldwork in Haiti, October 2011).
Thus, in many parts of the Caribbean—specifically in Jamaica and Haiti where poverty is
high—micro-credit is an important poverty-reduction tool for political leaders and many
lenders (CDB 2010; Poto Mitan film 2008; Tennant 2008; CMN 2007; ECLAC 2000;
Lashley 2004a; 2004b; McFarlane 1997). The visits of Yunus and other microfinance experts
22 This event, held at the Jamaica Pegasus Hotel in New Kingston, was hosted by Bank of Nova Scotia Jamaica
(BNSJ) and was by invitation only.
15
to these countries, in which they socialize with political and business elites and foreigners,
legitimizes the work of these government officials—even when the positive impact of their
programs on poverty is questionable.
A cursory examination of the many informal vendors in the streets of the three cases
of Jamaica, Guyana, and Haiti suggests that the enterprising poor may in fact benefit from
micro loans.23
The increase in the size of the informal sector and limited economic growth
suggest a need for microfinance (Bowen 2007; Yunus 2007b; Webber 2000). Given the high
rates of inequality and poverty in the Caribbean, micro banking is a significant recourse for
poor people there (CDB 2010, ii). (See Table 1.1 for poverty levels by country.) All three
countries in this study ranked relatively low on the UNDP’s Human Development Index
Report (2009) compared to other Caribbean countries (CDB 2010, 45).24
In Jamaica, for
example, a third of the population is reported to occupy property without legal claim
(Jamaica Gleaner 2009). Jamaica has the largest number of very poor citizens in the English-
speaking Caribbean, and Haiti accounts for the greatest absolute number of very poor in the
region, as well as the largest number of French-speaking poor in the Americas.
In the cases of Jamaica and Haiti, micro loans have become a principal part of
poverty reduction programs. State agencies, such as the Jamaica Social Investment Fund
(JSIF), support important community projects—including microfinance programs—through
the Inner Cities Basic Project (Bowen 2007, 155). Haiti, Jamaica, and Guyana have relatively
23 The Gleaner (April 2009) reported that one-third of Jamaicans live in squatter dwellings and hold no land
title, a fact that suggests a significant number of Jamaicans work in the informal sector. The Jamaica Survey of
Living Conditions for 2007 reported a decline in poverty (Introduction). 24
The rankings were as follows: Jamaica (100), Guyana (114), and Haiti (149).
16
denser markets in the region. All three cases are of great interest to the IDB, USAID, and the
CDB because of the sizable enclaves of poverty in the region and the potential for
microfinance as a poverty reduction tool (Dalrymple and Harding Interviews, 27 April 2009).
Table 1.1 Poverty Levels in Jamaica, Guyana, and Haiti
Country Poverty Rate
Jamaica <20%
Guyana 43%
Haiti 77%
Web Source: Date for Jamaica and Guyana is from the Caribbean Development Bank (CDB) Report 2010, 45. Haiti data is from the World
Bank data 2011.
The Three Cases
Although micro banking has had a long history in the Caribbean, the definition of
what constitutes a “micro enterprise” varies among countries. In this study I define the urban-
based micro-enterprises as an owner-operated business that has less than five employees
(Whyte 2001, 13). It is widely believed that investments in microfinance to the English-
speaking Caribbean region have been largely unsuccessful (Daley-Harris 2006, 2004;
Westley 2005; Chalmers and Wenner 2001; Lashley 2004a, b) compared to developing
countries in South Asia (such as Bangladesh) or Latin America (such as Bolivia or Peru). For
the LAC region, evaluators found in 2007 that the top-rated MFIs were in Spanish-speaking
countries in South America, with only one exception in the Dominican Republic (MIX
website 2007, 2006).
In developing countries with large numbers of entrepreneurial women, microfinance
has tended to operate effectively (Roodman 2012a). Poor penetration of financial services (in
17
this study, credit) to low income markets in the Caribbean, more specifically in Jamaica and
Guyana, is thus puzzling given the high level of female entrepreneurship in these countries
(Tennant 2008; Ulysse 2007; Honig 1998a, 1998b, 2000; Witter 1989). There is little
consensus on why Caribbean micro lending has not fared well compared to other micro-
lenders in the industry (Economist Intelligence Unit, October 2008, 10).25
Haiti stands out as
an anomaly among Caribbean microfinance results: the micro lending sector has performed
well in this country, despite its political instability and natural disasters.26
Microfinance access in the Caribbean, particularly in Guyana and Jamaica, is low.
Jamaican and Guyanese MFIs, which are well-versed in best practice microfinance, have
failed in outreach to certain types of poor clients. Microfinance experts from the region
suggest that the reason few poor people are accessing credit is because small countries like
Jamaica and Guyana have limited market absorption (CMN 2002); however this assertion is
debatable. Small countries with sufficient suppliers are able to meet the demand in a number
of countries in Central America. This is not the case in Jamaica and Guyana, as their micro
lenders reach about 10% of those clients who demand microfinance. Haiti’s penetration is at
25% despite its highly complex political environment and weak infrastructure.
Microfinance is lagging in the Caribbean region and there are many contesting views
on why micro lending fails in the Anglophone countries. Chalmers and Wenner (2001) argue
that a relatively high standard of living, less poverty,27
access to remittances (Kapur 2005;
25 Out of the 20 countries analyzed, Jamaica ranks last overall in the 2008 microfinance index.
26 In Navajas and Tejerina’s IDB report (2006) examining twenty-three countries in the LAC region including
Jamaica, Guyana, and Haiti, Haiti emerges as a potential microfinance leader. 27
Bowen (2007) refutes this assumption because the average poverty rate in the Caribbean is 30%.
18
Ndarishikanye 2005), and a highly educated labour force all work to create an aversion to
self-employment.28
In other words, the richer a nation, relatively speaking, the less likely
microfinance will be useful. Others contend that government subsidies interfere with
microfinance performance because institutions that receive grants are less efficient with
resources (Morduch 2000, 620). Alternatively, states with resources provide welfare
payments that interfere with small business development.
One daring explanation is that citizens in the Caribbean lack a business mind-set.
Bajan scholar Lashley (2004) argues that Caribbean residents lack an entrepreneurial culture
because people prefer jobs and only turn to micro enterprise for survival (Lashley Interview,
24 April 2009). In contrast, Haitian-American anthropologist Gina Ulysse (2007, 83) finds
that Jamaican higglers have an abundance of entrepreneurship dating back to slave times.29
Like Ulysse (2007), rating expert Damien Von Stauffenberg (2000) argues that failure in
Caribbean micro banking is less about culture or smallness than about operations: managers
do not adhere to best practice methods and systems. I found in this study, for example, that
middle-class university-educated loans officers had no experience in the Kingston slums and
this lack of context can negatively affect their outreach (Fieldwork, 2009).
In a multi-country study of the Anglophone Caribbean countries, Glenn Westley
(2005, 2) also points to weak internal management. Managers, although well-educated, lack
skills and methodologies to attract borrowers from the shanty towns, which inevitably affects
28 This suggestion contradicts Honig’s (1998) and Ulysse’s (2007) research into Jamaican entrepreneurs.
29 The Jamaican term “higgler” dates back to the colonial period when women traders brought agricultural
goods from the country to the towns (Ulysse 2007; Witter 1989). Most Jamaican business people I interviewed
called themselves hustlas and those persons in higher level retailing referred to themselves as higglers.
19
microfinance outreach and performance. This weakness was evident in the Guyana case
(Fieldwork, November 2009 and spring 2010). Studies on the Jamaican microfinance sector
(Tennant 2008; Holden 2005; McFarlane 1997) point to man-made bottlenecks in the system
that prevent financial access by the poor, such as interest rate caps and the lack of credit
bureaus.
While each of these perspectives indicates weaknesses in the capacities of retailers,
no mention is made of the role of personal or political biases that can affect the actions of
local managers and staff persons. For example, a study of the Guyanese micro enterprise
sector (McGarrell 2010) fails to mention race as a factor limiting the reach to a specific group
of people. Identity politics and the ingrained personal bias of individuals managing
microfinance programs clearly do affect the lending process, but this is not broached as an
explanation as to why micro enterprise development is limited in these two countries.
Scholarly reviews of microfinance, particularly of the Caribbean region, thus do not
explore the role of partisan identification and cultural factors in microfinance allocations.
Chalmers and Wenner (2001) have vaguely referred to a historical legacy unique to the
region as affecting the performance of micro loan programs (Navagas and Wenner
Discussion, 9 November 2010), but it is not clear from their own work what they mean.
Managers in the Jamaican and Guyanese microfinance sector often come from an ethnic
background that is culturally distinct from the majority of the poor who need microfinance.
Many of these staff persons market their program as helping poor business people, but they
do not use microfinance as a tool to rebel against society’s ingrained class or racialized
politics.
20
Still, Chalmers and Wenner (2001) have considered the possibility that context may
affect the success of micro loan programs in the Caribbean region. My findings demonstrate
that Jamaicans and Guyanese living in the slums do not trust the local micro-finance lenders
or the managers and staff running micro loan programs, whom they see as excluding them,
the borrowing clients, from microfinance. In contrast, Haiti’s ti machanns (small-scale
market sellers) trust the micro lenders in general for their efforts to make micro-credit
accessible. These lenders gain the trust of clients because they are cognizant of the local
culture, planning programs accordingly to reach this market.
I contend that micro banking in Jamaica and Guyana has been stunted by identity
politics and these lenders, who have ingrained prejudices, decide who gets a micro loan.
Many of these local managers believe that credit for the urban poor should be treated as
charity (or as way to control or manipulate certain groups of people) and not as a serious
sustainable and lasting financial program (Navagas Interview, 29 September 2010). Most of
the Jamaican and Guyanese microfinance lenders interviewed for this study refused to
acknowledge the role of politics in the allocation of micro loans. Indeed, most of the
decision-makers who run these loan programs are socially removed from the lived reality of
those seeking a micro loan (Bateman 2010, 109). This distance from the lived reality of
borrowers produces racial and/or class biases in the allocation of loans.
The case of Haiti, however, illustrates that micro-credit can be inclusive in a
politically complex and racially stratified environment. Black Haitian lenders (as well as
whitened and foreign managers) are politically conscious and espouse an “economic
democracy” philosophy for microfinance. When local managers are aware of the identity
21
biases in a society, they can program and organize credit to mitigate any political interference
in the allocation of financial resources. In Haiti, the majority of individuals involved in micro
lending are Blacks who are one or two generations removed from the people they serve.30
Findings of this case reveal that micro lending has a grassroots influence. Organizations such
as the caisses populaires and cooperatives, as well as sols, have long been part of the local
environment. Even non-cooperative lenders have adapted to the local culture, adjusting
programs to meet the needs of the entrepreneurial poor in the cities.31
Understanding Politics in Microfinance: An Interdisciplinary Theoretical Approach
While economists have contributed significantly to the economic aspects of
microfinance (Armendáriz and Morduch 2007, x), much of the literature on microfinance is
produced by advocates. Economists like Roodman (2012a) and Bateman (2010; 2011) give a
critical review and their books question microfinance’s impact on business people. Bateman
(2010; 2011) comes close to providing a political lens for understanding microfinance; yet,
political scientists have not concerned themselves with micro lending, even though the micro
lenders’ allocation of resources (e.g., economic resources) to the poor is an extremely
political act. Local elites can misuse resources and exert their power over the powerless. The
unfair allocation of resources through arbitrary politics can have a profound effect on the
peace and stability of a society. Microfinance in the form of patronage, granted to certain
30 “Black” is defined in this study as people who are of African ancestry. See Winkler (2006, 89–99) and Hope
(2006) for perceptive discussions on class and colour in Jamaican society. 31
In Haiti, the caisses populaires are financial cooperatives and have the legal right to collect deposits and
make loans (Emails 3 and 4 August 2011 from Julien of l’universite d’Quisqueya and St. Gilles, CEO of
KOTELAM).
22
persons, exacerbates tensions and creates divisions among people of the same community:
some persons receive these hand-outs as preferential treatment that is usually politically
motivated (Eisenstadt and Roniger 1984; Stone 1980; Scott 1972). This misuse of power
perpetuates poverty, and can create anger among the poor masses.
In this study, I argue that managers who live in stratified societies like many countries
in the Global South have historically rooted prejudices that are ingrained and come to the
fore in economic development programs for the poor (e.g. Jamaica and Guyana). Yet, many
of them will be inclined to deny that identity or partisan politics are active and affects the
allocation of credit due to inherent race, gender, and class prejudices. The consequence is
that these micro-credit programs are operated in an exclusionary fashion. However, these
biased and discriminatory micro lending practices of local managers and staff are not
mentioned in the works that question the impact of microfinance—such as Roodman’s Due
Diligence (2012) and Bateman’s Confronting Microfinance (2011). In fact, the microfinance
industry as a whole does not analyze the persons in positions of power who allocate financial
resources to the needy.
Supporters and skeptics of microfinance alike analyze, at great length, both the
viability of institutions and the technical aspects of microfinance programs, such as best
practice (Armendáriz and Morduch 2007; Morduch 2002; Rhyne and Otero 2006). In March
2012 the Inter-American Development Bank’s (IDB) call for proposals for a second phase of
the Caribbean Capacity II project, recognizes the limited performance of micro lending as
government subsidies, as well as the failure of managers to adhere to technical best practices,
but there is no mention of cultural prejudices of staff that affect access to loans. A region
23
greatly impacted by historically embedded biases and political violence fails to address the
concern of identity politics affecting its performance in the allocation of financial resources
to the economically-active poor. Experts also repeatedly focus on the impact of microfinance
on the poor—especially poor women (Roodman 2012a, b; Bateman 2011; Kabeer 2001;
Mayoux 2001; Rahman 1999; Mosely and Hulme 1998; Johnson and Rogaly 1997; Hashemi
et al. 1996; Goetz and Sen Gupta 1996). Yet, the cultural make-up of the lenders themselves
does not seem to be getting attention.
In this study, I build on the scholarship of social scientists in and outside of the
Caribbean who critique micro-credit as a tool to assist the entrepreneurial poor by adding
analysis of the internally embedded biases in financial programs for the poor. Identity politics
figure heavily in how managers distribute economic resources to local areas. The
microfinance literature provides solid research on the social aspects and empowerment
intersections between women and micro-credit (Vonderlack-Navarro 2010; Maclean 2010;
Armendariz and Murdoch 2007; Rankin 2002; 2001; Kabeer 2001; Mayoux 1999; Hashemi
et al. 1996; Ardener and Burman 1996). However, analyses of other identities, such as class
or ethnicity/race, are rare.
Development literature, as well, in general has had limited analysis of the intersection
of multiple identities. As highlighted earlier, donors and microfinance lenders tend to focus
on the implications of gender, in which poor women receive microfinance for retail
24
activities.32
During my field research, development experts in Kingston revealed that class
bias (which, as we shall see, intersects with race) in micro lending analysis was “too
controversial” to discuss and that government officials preferred to downplay evidence of
social class bias by highlighting gender discrimination. In my view, however, these two
issues are intertwined.
My research project demonstrates that party and identity politics are intrinsically
involved in microfinance lending, and that microfinance lenders’ and political elites’ use of
microfinance for political purposes, as occurs Jamaica and Guyana, is exclusionary. While
advocates of microfinance (Rhyne and Otero 2006, 5; Morduch 2000, 624) are critical of
state interference, these same critics refuse to consider that the internal identity politics of
microfinance lenders limit the capacity of micro-credit to help the poor when local managers
and staff—who are often different from their clients in terms of class, race, and gender—run
these programs.
Many scholars from various academic fields (Maclean 2010; Rankin 2002; Molyneux
2002; 1986; Hulme 2000; Rahman 1999 and Rogaly 1996) argue that microfinance cannot
help the poor everywhere and in the same way. Veltmeyer (2007), Rahman (1999), and
Goetz and Sen Gupta (1996) suggest that the concept of empowerment, when incorporated
into social and economic programs (such as microfinance), is often used to appease the poor
without making positive transformational change in their lives or larger society. This can be
true in the Jamaica and Guyana cases; yet transformative changes appear to be happening in
32 I contributed to Jamaican policy work for the IDB and Jamaica House (Government of Jamaica) in 2009 and
introduced the idea that men in the slums, especially youth in the ghettos, were deliberately left out of
microfinance programs (Hossein 2009).
25
small degrees in Haiti. Vonderlack-Navarro (2010), Rankin (2002), and Rogaly (1996) argue
convincingly that lenders take a minimalist approach, focusing on repayment of micro loans
and failing to create positive collective economic action. Again, the Haiti case shows that the
collective model in microfinance is the best for reaching large numbers of excluded people.
Bateman (2010, 161) posits that the microfinance revolution not only supports
dominant neoliberal political philosophy but also unacceptably downplays the political
motivations behind micro lending activities. Rankin’s (2001, 29–32) work in the Kathmandu
Valley in Nepal suggests that this new economic order uses microfinance to create “rational
economic women” and that a structural violence embedded into microfinance programs binds
poor women to their oppressors (Rankin 2001, 30). Building on the work of Bateman (2011;
2010) and Rankin (2002; 2001), I examine politics not only as something external to
microfinance, but as something that is deeply embedded in these programs through
hierarchies of politics, gender, race, and class that give the lenders power over those poor
individuals who best conform to their social norms. When some poor people take micro
loans, they risk becoming tied to the politics of local elites (Rankin 2002, 30). In Portfolios
of the Poor, Collins et al. (2009, 53) suggest that informal banks are a financial device for the
poor who cannot access sufficient levels of financing. However, I move beyond these notions
that the poor are passively indebted to local elites or that they use informal banks only to
meet their needs: I argue that the participation of the poor in informal banking systems is a
covert form of resistance. If micro banking is perceived by poor business people as
politically motivated or exclusionary, then it seems logical that some micro entrepreneurs
26
would turn to informal, trusted banks to avoid being manipulated by microfinance
administrators.33
Resistance from below is not new (Scott 1977). I build on the work of Jamaican
political scientist Obika Gray (2003a, 2003c, 2004), who points to widespread urban
resistance “social power” among the urban poor, including among very small businesses.34
Having worked in these slums, there is a power that resides within certain segments who do
not accept partisan politics dominating their lives. While the poor cannot be defined as a
homogenous group, a commonality of traits can be seen among low income business persons
in all three cases. Microfinance borrowers in Jamaica and Guyana participate in and mobilize
“Partner” or “Box hand” (informal banks) as a form of social resistance. Jamaican hustlas
rely on Partner as a trusted and locally owned community bank to avoid being co-opted by
politicians and gang leaders, and Afro-Guyanese hucksters turn to Box hand to restore
personal dignity when they are denied microfinance because of racial discrimination. In
Portfolios of the Poor, Collins et al. (2009, 26) trace 250 financial diaries in three countries
and find that accumulating savings is a strategy of the poor, who channel their money
through informal banks (such as ROSCAs). I contend that such informal banks not only
provide coping tools for livelihood survival, but have been used over generations as a form of
resistance when micro-credit programs are not trusted, exclusionary, or deemed political.
33 Jamaican business persons in the slums referred to themselves as hustlas, a term which for them has a positive
connotation, as business people “tryin’ a likkle ting” (conducting business) in the informal sector. In the
Guyanese context, hucksters are the micro entrepreneurs in the informal sector. 34
See Sives (2010, xx) for a different view.
27
Gendered Perspectives in this Study
The mobilization of people and organization of informal banking systems in slum
communities in the Caribbean are achieved through the tenacity of poor Black women. Poor
women with limited formal education come together to make financing options available
through informal banks to excluded groups in their communities. While most microfinance
banks target women-owned enterprises, many women do not qualify for micro loans. I found
that there is a preferential treatment of certain women (chapter six). In every chapter, I
examine the contributions made by women in informal banks. Women are not merely clients,
they are also actors facilitating lending. In this study, I interviewed 256 female subjects (56%
of the sample). As noted in Table 1.2, 64% (n = 177) of the micro-entrepreneurs I
interviewed were women. The stakeholders35
(non microfinance actors) interviewed
accounted for 45% (n = 83) of the sample; and in the Jamaican case, women stakeholder (not
microfinance staff persons) interviews accounted for the majority of persons interviewed at
61% (n = 45). Thus, overall, a strong female voice is present in this study.
Table 1.2 Female Perspectives in the Study
Jamaica Guyana Haiti International Total
% of
Sample
Female Micro-entrepreneurs 146 19 12 0 177 64%
Total Micro-entrepreneurs 233 29 14 0 276
Female Stakeholders 45 16 18 4 83 45%
Total Stakeholders 74 50 48 12 184
Total Female Perspectives in Study 191 35 30 4 256 56%
Total Sample 307 79 62 12 460
35 Some stakeholders would include civil society experts, community activists, policy experts, and academics.
28
Given that micro-credit programs tend to focus on women worldwide, I analyze
gender in contexts in chapter six. The Jamaica case in particular sheds new insights for
female-focused loan programs—for various reasons. In the Jamaican microfinance industry,
women dominate as managers and clients; yet, certain women are overlooked as clients for
microfinance. In spite of the fact that Jamaican micro banking is dominated by female staff
persons, there is no gender equality within the sector. The microfinance managers and staff
persons, who are mainly women, exclude young male entrepreneurs from the slums from
financial services. Scholars Miller and the late Chevannes have discussed the male
marginalization thesis in urban Jamaica, where data shows that in the education sector, poor
males are the most underperforming group. In contrast, the Indian Guyanese male lenders
discriminate against Blacks (chapter four).
In the Jamaica case, however, it seems that having more women leaders in
microfinance does not result in gender inclusive microfinance (as I will elaborate on in
chapter six). Female managers are biased against certain women (those with children by
more than one father) and male youth from the ghettos. This response is similar to the male
Indian staff in Guyana, who privilege Indians over Blacks, providing them with larger loans.
Moreover, in cases where micro loans do favour women, this has proven to have negative
effects. Research findings corroborate with findings from other parts of the world that
suggest micro lending targeting poor women disempowers them (Vonderlack-Navarro 2010;
Armendáriz and Roome 2008; Ahmed 2008; Rahman 1996). It exacerbates social conflicts at
the community level, not only between men and women (especially those in a
partnership/family business) but among women of the same social class (Mayoux 2001).
29
While the domination of one gender penalizes the other gender in Jamaica, this has
not been the case in Haiti. Haitian microfinance, led by men, is reaching the needs of the
most excluded group—that is, single mothers. Yet there seem to be no negative repercussions
within the gender dynamic of educated males making loans to poor women. However, micro
lending that is focused on females affects relations at the household level: Haitian women
borrowers claim they give part of their loans to their husbands’ businesses, which may earn
more revenue than their petty trade (Field visit, September and October 2011). The emphasis
on women clients may not be useful in the future, especially when women are giving part of
their credit to their male partners. Nonetheless, in Haiti female clients find overall that male
managers are trustworthy and honest with them.
In each of the three cases under study, poor and uneducated women organize informal
banks for business people excluded by microfinance programs. In the Jamaica case, women-
run Partner banks are a form of resistance to clientelist politics that have overwhelmed some
programs. In Guyana, Black women organize and participate in Box hand or Penny banks.
Box hand and Penny banks not only allow Black business people to access finance but serve
as community support to restore dignity to people rejected from micro lending programs. In
Haiti, women organize Sol to reach the unmet demand for financing, a tradition that has
endured for generations. Women in all three countries are thus making banking accessible at
a community level for persons excluded from microfinance programs.
Argument of the Thesis: Internal Politics Active in Microfinance
Researchers generate hypotheses about their cases. In my experience researching this
study, most of my assumptions were overturned, with the exception of the Guyana case.
Drawing from the scholarly literature on microfinance in the three countries, I developed a
30
number of working hypotheses that guided my preliminary research design. The research
question for this project: why given the same inputs do microfinance program outcomes
differ across contexts? An important outcome for microfinance is the creation of access and
opportunities for financing. And my two sub-questions are: Is microfinance inclusive
finance? And does micro banking reach economically-active enterpreneurs?
On the basis of preliminary fieldwork (May 2007 and November 2008), I came into
this project assuming that Jamaica would be a case of effective and efficient micro banking.
Jamaica’s long-standing democracy and active trade unions led me to believe that its
microfinance managers would be able to stop politics from interfering with micro lending to
the urban poor. I expected micro-lenders (who were mainly women and who outwardly
supported the promise of microfinance) to be conscious of the “garrison phenomenon” and to
tailor their loan programs to remedy exclusionary downtown/uptown politics.36
My field
research revealed that this was not the case. Instead, I found that the Jamaican microfinance
industry was riddled with elite schisms and that poor people avoided what they saw as
politicized programs.
In the case of Haiti, I had assumed from the outset that this country would illustrate
the most ineffective credit programs and that its activities would be politicized due to racial
and class tensions, foreign aid, the large presence of expatriates, and weak governance.
Given Haiti’s repressive politics and the polarizing social divisions in Port-au-Prince, I was
surprised to find that this island nation has inclusive microfinance with a market penetration
36 Figueroa and Sives (2003, 65) define a “garrison” as a “political stronghold or veritable fortress completely
controlled by a party,” adding that “any significant social, political, economic or cultural development within a
garrison can only take place with tacit approval of the leadership of the dominant party.”
31
of at least 25% (USAID 2008). After three extended field trips (2008; 2010; 2011), it was
apparent that among my case studies Haiti had the most effective forms of micro banking. In
particular, those programs led by cooperatives and caisses populaires (credit unions) lead
effective grass-roots micro lending.37
It was evident that identity and partisan politics can
affect micro loan allocations positively or negatively, depending on how they are used by
local managers.
In my political ethnographic study of 460 people in three countries, I found that the
racial and class biases of micro bankers in Jamaica and Guyana result in the exclusion of
poor business people—the very people micro-credit is intended to help. Race and class
politics is entrenched in all three countries; yet there are different outcomes related to the
attitudes, class, and race of microfinance managers. The variation in findings across the three
countries is also a result of their historical and political environments. In Jamaica and
Guyana, micro lenders demonstrated that historically rooted racial and class biases go
beyond gender to determine the allocation of microfinance resources. Even though lenders
will not admit that identity-based prejudice interferes with the allocation of loans to the
urban, they are fully aware that these ingrained biases do affect access to microfinance.
In Jamaica and Guyana, as a result of discriminatory practices and cultural biases,
micro lending is a resource that counters its development aspect: it is exclusionary and it
reinforces pre-existing social divisions in the society. Identity issues shape the attitudes of the
managers and staff running these programs, yet they have refused to acknowledge that their
37 Haitians define cooperatives as associations based on the collective, where these groups assist a community’s
social and economic developments (Montasse 2003, 53).
32
lending practices have racial and class biases in the allocation of microfinance. The very act
of privileged people conferring monies to the poor in these social contexts is highly political
because it involves the expectation of political support.
In contrast, the story in Haiti is hopeful. It is inspiring because this case shows
development alternatives using indigenous solutions (Brohman 1995, 130). Haitian lenders,
particularly those belonging to the caisses populaires, are made up of socially conscious
managers and staff persons. Managers and staff are, at the most, one generation removed
from the clients they serve, and they view microfinance as a tool to contest class and race-
based oppression. Black and mulatre managers and staff person are cognizant of historical
inequalities, and they take personal risks when they locate microfinance as a tool for ensuring
economic democracy. Unlike in Jamaica and Guyana, the urban poor in Haiti trust
microfinance programs because they see lenders adapting systems in a collective manner that
is mindful of the country’s exclusionary politics.
Many Jamaican and Guyanese microfinance managers fail to acknowledge the fact
that race, class, and gender bias shape their lending practices. While they market their
services and products to investors and donors using the rhetoric of transforming lives through
finance, in actuality they do not use loans as a transformative tool to help the poor. In these
two countries, qualified business people are usually excluded from the micro-credit that is
intended to help them. This exclusion in Jamaica and Guyana increases poor people’s,
especially women’s, involvement in informal banks and diminishes their desire to take loans
from biased micro-lenders—loans that would increase ties to political elites. Informal banks
help people to access monies from trusted sources and restore their personal dignity.
33
Microfinance programs that are fixated on women clients have a negative effect on
the people they intend to support in low income neighbourhoods. The increased presence of
female microfinance managers, as in the Jamaica case, did not lead to more equitable
lending, as male youths from the slums were less likely to receive a micro loan. In Guyana,
racial, and not gender, bias blocked Afro-Guyanese female hucksters’ access to loans. It
seems that gender alone cannot explain exclusion in microfinance, as historically rooted
prejudices seep into microfinance programs to penalize the entrepreneurial poor.
Businesswomen excluded or manipulated by microfinance lenders draw on African
traditions of collecting money from within their community to carry out their activities. One
important finding of this study is that a women’s gender is not the only identity that makes it
difficult for her to access microfinance. In Guyana, gender interacts with race and culture to
situate a female entrepreneur. Despite race and class stratifications in the Caribbean, Haitian
officials of cooperatives and the caisses populaires are socially conscious of the inequalities
in their society and administer micro loan programs that are inclusive.
Microfinance in Jamaica and Guyana is thus counterproductive, because it either
excludes the poor or provokes certain members of the urban poor to exclude themselves from
microfinance. Poor entrepreneurs in both countries do not trust their micro lenders. Social
divisions among microfinance actors and the poor are apparent in both contexts. Lenders
have not been able to make banking inclusive because of the domination of identity politics,
34
in which class and cultural/racial identities drive their lending practices.38
As a result, poor
Black business people are excluded from obtaining the funds they need to do business.
This study shows that in all three cases politics is embedded within microfinance
programs, and the manner in which the actors deal with these influences while managing
microfinance affects how resources are distributed (Honig 2000, 106). Ffrench (2008), in his
study of Jamaica, alludes to the political legacy of the state-owned micro bank, Micro
Investment Development Agency (MIDA), and he brings attention to the public perception
of partisanship linked to this bank’s operations. I go further to find that banks which are
politically aligned exclude viable micro-entrepreneurs. I found that in Jamaica and Guyana,
microfinance managers and staff demonstrated bias in lending based on class, race, and
gender. The lending decisions of these people advanced their own particular interests because
they were perceived as helping to maintain profits and were rewarded with individual
bonuses.39
Furthermore, the perception among poor borrowers of the collusion between
actors in the microfinance field and politicians keeps many of them from seeking micro
loans. The relationship between microfinance lenders and dubious political actors thereby
confounds the social empowerment aspect of microfinance.
Politics in the disbursement of microfinance forces poor business people to retreat to
self-financing options. Jamaican hustlas and Guyanese hucksters, deeming microfinance as
manipulative and politicized, rely on informal banks. These community banks therefore
38 In Brazil, skin colour and class issues are relevant as in Jamaica and Guyana; yet microfinance documents
analyzing the sector fail to examine this issue (Nichter et al. 2002) 39
See McLeod Arnopoulos’ (2010, 166–167) description of Vikram Akula, the former CEO of SKS
Microfinance in India.
35
become centres of resistance. In the Jamaica case, hustlas gravitate towards the informal
bank Partner to avoid supporting the established political parties, which attempt to co-opt and
control them through conventional microfinance programs. I see this as a form of political
resistance because poor business people, with the full knowledge that a loan can leverage a
higher return, deliberately opt out of microfinance programs to avoid being what they refer to
as “binded by a Big Man”: that is, controlled by political elites or informal leaders.
In the contrasting case of Haiti, microfinance managers have developed techniques
that do not entail political control but instead foster inclusiveness. Because many of the
managers come from a social and class background similar to the people they serve, they are
aware of the challenges faced by borrowers—a social consciousness that is missing in the
other two cases under study. Even the whitened Haitians, called the mulatres, embrace a
radical rhetoric of economic democracy when using microfinance. Managers in microfinance
who take on a radical rhetoric and see microfinance as a transformational tool take personal
risks with their lives when they do so. Despite much adversity, Haitian lenders who
understand first-hand the lived reality of the poor entrepreneurs have developed grassroots
collective financial systems such as cooperatives and caisses populaires for ti machanns
(market women) that counter the widespread exclusionary politics in Haitian society.
Politics, Development, and Microfinance
Political elites can shape policies that encourage economic development or they can
make policies that stunt it (Collier 2007, 64). After Haiti’s 2010 earthquake and fire in the
Croix des Brossales market, some of the ti machanns protested against the repayment of
micro loans. Then President Rene Préval, with little communication to the microfinance
36
organizations and under political pressure, wrote off the loans, telling the ti machanns not to
repay them. Haitian microfinance leaders dismayed with perceived political interference,
lobbied for the state to cover these losses (Interviews in August to October 2011). Managers
in microfinance realized that if the state interfered once, it would do so again, so they lobbied
for the state to correct this policy. The President agreed to the industry’s request and
reimbursed these institutions for the losses (Raymond Interview, 14 October 2010; Calixte
Interview, 6 October 2010; St. Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010).
Bankers in general claim “neutrality” in banking, and argue that the allocation of
credit depends of the three C’s of credit: capital, collateral, and capacity to repay. Yet a
state’s political environment and the managers who control micro loans are integral to the
success of a micro-credit program: they determine whether the program flourishes or fails
(Matin et al. 2002, 283). Although Yunus (1998, 53) argues that credit plays a vital role in
the social context and recognizes its potential to create social power, he does not discuss the
political influences on the attitudes of microfinance managers and staff that can harm poor
clients. Because MFIs and their staff directly and indirectly influence the lives of an ever
greater number of poor people, a thorough understanding of the politics of microfinance has
become particularly salient.
Yunus (NYT 2011; 2007b) further argues that credit in and of itself creates an
economic power, a power that in turn develops appreciably the social capacity of the poor.
But at the same time he recognizes the problems occurring within the sector (e.g., suicides
related to microfinance institutions in India). Microfinance, though a valid instrument for
economic and social empowerment, does not operate the same way in all social contexts.
37
Depending on the circumstance, it may involve the alienation, manipulation, and oppression
of the poor. Given microfinance’s reputation of providing adequate alternative financial
services to persons traditionally believed to be unbankable, the fact that in some contexts
many of the entrepreneurial poor are purposefully screened out of programs is an important
finding.
Many governments in the developing world and elsewhere have subsidized credit to
the entrepreneurial poor, especially in the agricultural sectors (Morduch 2000, 624).40
The
impetus for state lending arose in order to fill the market gaps when commercial banks
excluded the economically active poor from financial services. Many stories around the
world confirm that state-managed micro lending programs were inherently mismanaged and
subject to partisan politics. A Caribbean scholar, Bowen (2007, 153) found that Jamaican
politicians did not support economic revitalization projects in poor areas because these
leaders valued some degree of poverty in order to control constituents during elections
through rewards (see also Henry-Lee 2005; Honig 1998). Given the vulnerability of the poor
to political exploitation, political elites are predisposed to misuse microfinance for political
purposes. Microfinance managers who associate with politicians are vulnerable to these
tendencies. Hence, political elites who use microfinance do so to enhance their support base,
and in turn taint the retailers of these resources.
Managers and people working in microfinance are well aware of the risks to their
credit portfolios when they invite politicians to support their programs. In 2011, a Haitian
40 Harper (1998, 24) rightly notes that under colonial regimes, colonial banks failed to lend money to the local
people, and at independence state banks subsidized loans to local business.
38
microfinance institution, Association pour la Coopération avec la Microentreprise (ACME),
turned down a large grant from the Clinton Bush Haiti Foundation because of the negative
public impact two American politicians would have on its portfolio (Raymond Discussion,
24 August 2011). Dichter and Harper (2007, 6) suggest that “much gamesmanship goes on in
the field where politicians, the elites and governments take advantage of microfinance
programs, using them for their own ends rather than for helping the poor.” Microfinance
managers are aware that when they accept funds from politicians or a government there is a
chance their program may be co-opted for political ends. If micro lenders are aware of the
intentions of politicians, they will likely be ready to reject politically motivated funds (e.g., in
the case of ACME).
The Microfinance Banana Skins (2011) report, funded by Citigroup, examined the
global microfinance sector and observed that microfinance is “losing its fairy dust”—that is,
its reputation as a tool to help the poor is threatened because actors within the industry abuse
their power over the poor. Supporters of microfinance, such as Rhyne and Otero (2006, 19),
have focused on politicians (external actors) who infuse microfinance with their own political
agenda; but they have yet to see that the greatest risk to microfinance appears to come from
within the sector.41
By 2012, the attitudes of industry experts and public sentiment towards
micro lenders shifted as it became increasingly clear that these people have the capacity to
take advantage of poor clients, particularly those with limited formal education. The climate
is ripe for discussing political bias within MFIs.
41 See Rhyne and Otero (2006, 57) for observations on the political risks in microfinance.
39
In 2010, CGAP issued consumer protection papers in the interests of poor clients
vulnerable to the unscrupulous tactics of certain micro lenders. CGAP also argued that these
policies should recognize the politics that may lie beneath the surface and which are present
in developing societies. In 2005, Kah, Olds, and Kah (2005, 25) raised the issue of political
elites interfering in microfinance as well as village banking leaders becoming politicized
themselves in Senegal. Village banking leaders used their power to convince members to
vote for a certain political party. Although this case demonstrated that a political bias was
active and denied access loans to certain members because of the political aspirations of
microfinance leaders, political bias in microfinance has not become a major conversation.
In general, the literature on microfinance usually views politics as a problem external
to the microfinance industry. It assumes that political interference occurs when government
or political leaders manipulate policies and programs for their own political objectives
(Microfinance Banana Skins 2008, 20). In this paper, as pointed out above, I argue that
politics is already embedded within many micro credit programs by the very people who
manage these programs. Furthermore, political manipulation takes place within the
microfinance sector and in some cases involves partisan and elite biases.42
Microfinance has
focused on the “character” of clients; yet few empirical studies have scrutinized the persons
who run microfinance programs.43
What about the values and character of the lenders? Honig
(2000, 106), in his work on Jamaican microcredit states, “There is too little attention placed
on the character of the implementing actors—the employees of these retailers.” Instead, these
42 Bateman (2010, 109) alludes to detached elitist managers in Bolivian context, there is no literature discussing
internal political manipulation by microfinance managers and staff of the poor. 43
See Hancock (1989), who examines the people and various development agencies involved in making foreign
aid to the world’s poor.
40
employees are able to make judgments about the very poor regardless of whether or not their
norms are in conflict with the people they are supposed to serve. Non-state actors that
manage micro loan programs are currently not analyzed in terms of the power they may
possess over marginalized groups. Bateman (2011; 2010) and Honig (2000) argue for a need
to carry out further research on the role of employees implementing microfinance. In light of
the increasing criticism of microfinance programs, strong-arm tactics in India, and excessive
profits in Mexico, it is important to examine the actors (managers and staff) who control
these economic resources available to the entrepreneurial poor.
Methodologies in Complex Urban Settings
For this study, I interviewed 460 people, mostly in Jamaica, Guyana, Haiti, but also in
Barbados, Panama, Canada, and the U.S., from June 2007 to October 2011.44
(See lists of
subjects interviewed in Appendices 1.1 and 1.2.) I spent eleven months living in Kingston,
Jamaica, the country that forms my main case. Comparative data has also been collected on
Guyana and Haiti.45
I conducted in-depth interviews and focus groups in eight slums in each
of the three countries. The slums in Kingston, Jamaica, are for most part located downtown
(south of Cross Roads) and include the neighbourhoods of Trench Town, Bennett’s Land,
Whitfield Town, Rosetown, Frog City, and the prime minister’s constituency of Denham
44 Dozens of informal discussions were carried out with experts in Haiti in 2011 during a professional
assignment. For example, Joseph Similien of MCN and Evans Baptiste of Sogesol bank are not counted in the
original sample size as well as three focus groups in the city of Cayes, Southern Haiti. 45
On 12 January 2010, Haiti experienced a 7.0 magnitude earthquake that left about 300,000 persons dead and
1.5 million people displaced and living in tent cities (GOH 2010, 2) so this affected long-term continuous work
in the country (March and April 2008; in September 2010 and August to October 2011).
41
Town and Tivoli Gardens (Howard 2005).46
In Haiti, the bidonvilles (shanties) I visited were
Cite Soleil, Carrefour, Martissant, and La Saline, as well as Bel Air in Centre-Ville
(Aristide’s Lavalas’ stronghold) and Jalousie and Flipo in the hills of the chic suburb of
Petion-Ville. My focus group in Haiti was held in the low-income community of Bon Repos.
Guyana’s slums in Georgetown are Tiger Bay (undergoing gentrification) and Allbouystown.
It is in the latter ghetto that I carried out most of my interviews in November 2008 and again
in the spring of 2010. Allbouystown is ethnically diverse, with a large Afro-Guyanese,
dougla population, as well as East Indian, Portuguese, and Amerindian people.47
In all three cases, I interviewed at least one staff member in a variety of microfinance
lending institutions: commercial banks, cooperatives and credit unions, microfinance
organizations and state lending agencies, and moneylenders. The types of individuals
interviewed included heads of private finance companies; financial intermediaries making
capital for loans available (such as state agencies and private firms and foreign donors);
heads of ROSCAs or informal banking systems; and leaders of NGOs or foundations.48
Public sector organizations include NGOs, churches, and those bodies reliant on donor and
public subsidies. (See Table 1.3) Urban micro business persons (hustlas in Jamaica, hucksters
in Guyana, and ti machanns in Haiti) are the main subjects of this study.
46 Kingston slums for this study were selected based on high incidences of poverty, party stronghold, relatively
good access to the community, and a large pool of small businesspersons. 47
In Guyana, the term “dougla” refers to mixed-race persons of East Indian and African ethnicities (Gibson
2005, 69; St. Pierre 1999, 133). I am also using the terms “East Indian,” “Indo” or “Indian” in the Guyanese
context to refer to both immigrant and locally born persons of Indian descent (Rodney 1981, 178; Smith 1964,
28). 48
This project benefited from the UWI (2006) study that looked at 430 micro and small businesses in Jamaica.
42
Illegal businesses were not included in this study, as businesses had to qualify for a
loan. Of the 233 Jamaican micro entrepreneurs interviewed, 37% (n = 86) were men and 63%
(n = 147) were women. In Guyana, of the total persons interviewed in Georgetown, 37%
were from Albouystown, an urban slum. In Port-au-Prince, Haiti, I interviewed 14 ti
machanns and had discussions with at least a dozen global and regional microfinance
experts.49
Table 1.3 Breakdown of Types of Interviewees by Country
Country Entrepreneurs
Sub
Elites50
Total
Percentage of the
Sample
Jamaica 233 74 307 67%
Guyana 29 50 79 17%
Haiti 14 48 62 13%
International experts 12 12 3%
Total Sample Size 276 184 460
Researchers I contacted prior to executing my field research were convinced that
subjects would speak to me more freely because I was not a citizen of those countries. These
researchers came from a variety of respected professional, academic, and social organizations
and institutions. A Canadian and long-time resident of Jamaica, John Rapley, stated to me,
“As a foreigner you may have ‘less’ of a disadvantage” in performing field research than
would a Jamaican national (Interview, 3 April 2009). In other words, being foreign brings its
own set of challenges, and they are different than those a national inherits.
49 Additional focus groups relevant to the use of microfinance were carried out with 31 women in the town of
Cayes, Southern province of Haiti. 50
The term “sub-elites” refers to a large group of persons, including microfinance managers and staff as well as
stakeholders (community activists, government officials, donors, and political elites). Stakeholders are persons
not directly involved in micro-lending activities.
43
At the same time, because geographical concentrations of Caribbean communities
are widely known to exist in North America, my own Caribbean origin and identity worked
to my advantage by establishing a “connection” with interviewees. The fact that I was born
and raised in North America nonetheless placed me in an ambivalent space (Narayan 1997).51
In the field, I was conscious of my relatively privileged background and sense of being
foreign in my immediate social environment, especially when I socialized with middle class
West Indians. Yet I readily adapted to the culture as it was already familiar to me and I was
able to benefit from my semi-insider knowledge (Few 2007).52
I was also conscious of the
fact that I travelled to the Caribbean with my own set of biases. I read and reread the
Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Brazilian Paulo Freire (2010), as his teachings suggest ways
to engage with the poor and oppressed, such as those I interviewed in the slums. This
awareness helped me to analyze and document their stories as told to me.
This study adopted a multi-method approach to researching the attitude and behaviour
of microfinance lenders and borrowers in all three countries.53
I employed political
ethnographic methods in the inner city contexts in order to describe the communities in detail
(Bayard de Volo 2009; Shadaimah et al. 2009; Wardle 2000). The multi-method approach I
51 As a woman of Afro and Indo Caribbean heritage, one with significant life and work experience in Global
South countries, and often the only Black woman managing microfinance programs, I have encountered my
share of racism in the development arena. 52
I did not anticipate that my being a Black woman in the academy might come under scrutiny by Canada’s
state. On 19 November 2008, I was detained without justification for several hours by immigration officials
working for Canada Customs at Lester B. Pearson airport in Toronto. Authorities held me, along with several
other Blacks, under the false belief that we were drug “mules” because of our travel to Caribbean destinations.
Immigration officials engaged with me in a hostile manner and dismissed my University of Toronto identity
card and field notes as insufficient proof that I was in fact, as I claimed, a PhD student. Caribbean people
travelling to North America often undergo such indignities, but I was misguided to think my Canadian
citizenship—including a Canadian passport—would prevent such harassment. 53
Duncan-Waite and Woolcock (2008, 17) helped me in refining my own methodology and in understanding
the importance of having local assistants to assist me in data collection.
44
used included: (1) secondary materials, including the following indigenous newspapers:
Jamaica’s national papers, The Gleaner and the Jamaican Observer, Haiti’s Le Nouvelliste,
and Guyana’s private newspapers, Kaieteur News and Stabroek News; (2) interviews, both
semi-structured and in-depth, of lenders, borrowers, and other actors; (3) focus groups; (4)
surveys; (5) textual analysis of reports and internal documents; and (6) political ethnography
and participant observation of life settings, film, and photography. (See Appendix 1.3 for a
sample of interview tools used in the study with Jamaican hustlas.)
A set of complementary qualitative methods allowed me to uncover politically
sensitive issues. Because of the political nature of my findings, and the potential opposition
from supporters within the industry, I had to test and re-test my methods. Every effort was
made to ensure data triangulation—collecting information from a diverse range of
individuals and settings and using a variety of methods. For example, I conducted individual
interviews and focus groups with micro business persons (60%) and did in-depth interviews
with 184 sub-elites (40% of the total sample size), such as microfinance lenders and
stakeholders. The contributions of both groups were analyzed separately (Marshall and
Rossman 2006; Maxwell 2005).
Questions were designed so that ordinary people could provide similar information
that could be quantified and compared; other parts of the tool consisted of open-ended
questions so that people could convey a narrative. In-depth structured interview tools focused
on four main areas: (1) individual enterprise; (2) politics and microfinance; (3) identities in
microfinance; and (4) community development. Interviews with managers and stakeholders
were structured and semi-structured. As well, there was a follow up self-administered survey.
45
Interview tools were standardized as much as possible to enable comparison across the cases,
and tools were adapted to fit the local, contextual realities. In Haiti, the tool had to be revised
several times to account for the post-earthquake realities. My intention was to design
interview tools so that people could tell a story and, at times, engage in dialogue.
Data collection for this project focused on micro business-people who wanted or who
have (or had) a micro loan. Micro business persons participated in either individual
interviews or a focus group session. In a number of cases, vendors wanted meetings to take
place at their business so they could work while I interviewed them. Others requested that I
come to their homes; this enabled me to observe their home setting and share in their work
and life. On several occasions, I remained with a subject for an entire day, sitting beside
retailers at home, in a shop, or in a market stall. Many of the subjects had home-based
businesses, such as a grocery shop in the front part of the home, so I could witness the home
and work life simultaneously. This format allowed me to understand people’s contexts and
observe them in a typical setting: in other words, to share in their “lived experience”
(Seidman 2006).
Table 1.4 Methods Used to Interview Business People
Method Jamaica Guyana Haiti Total
Number of Focus groups 7 1 2 10
Number of Persons in Focus Groups 77 6 14 97
Individual Interviews, 45 minutes on-site 156 23 0 179
Total number of people interviewed/spoken to 233 29 14 276
46
Ten two-hour focus group meetings (FGs) of six to eleven people were held at a
neutral place, such as a community center or church or a bar, depending on the area.54
In
Kingston, I conducted five mixed-sex focus group sessions and two all-male focus groups
sessions, involving 77 persons in total (see Table 1.4). Although the former groups were
“mixed-sex,” in the Jamaican context, women dominated these discussions, with men
receiving only token representation. In fact, women participants often corrected the men,
openly disagreed with their ideas, and mocked their use of patois, indicating that the men
should “speak propa English” (standard English) and not the Jamaican vernacular.55
Given
that understanding gender dynamics appeared to be important to examining the unique
challenges men confront with microfinance, I became concerned about gender balance.56
Two all-male focus group sessions thus ensured that businessmen could also tell their
interpretations of the operations of microfinance.57
In Kingston, borders and neighbourhoods had to be considered when planning these
meetings. Focus groups organized in Whitfield Town, for example, were cancelled twice due
to violence of warring groups. Violence did not interfere with the fieldwork in Port-au-Prince
or Allbouystown; however, in Port-au-Prince, an area greatly affected by the earthquake, I
was not able to work in my original slums and had to choose a community that was
54 I carried out two focus groups with 31 female MFI clients in Cayes (southern Haiti) and their views match
those of the entrepreneurs interviewed in Port-au-Prince in 2011. I do not include these clients in this sample
size because it was outside of the PAP area. 55
See the comments of Carolyn Cooper of the University of the West Indies on “Language Politics,” about the
relationship between patois and social class in Jamaica, The Gleaner 15 Nov 2009, A9
www.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20091115/cleisure/cleisure3.html 56
Ahmed (2008) in Bangladesh and Vonderlack-Navarro (2010) in Honduras find that microfinance’s fixation
of women forces men to opt of their family obligations. 57
An all-male focus group was held in Trench Town on 22 August 2009, and another one at Tivoli Gardens on
25 August 2009 (suggestion made by “Bling”).
47
advancing in its re-construction after the earthquake (Cité Soleil’s rebuilding was rather
slow). In Guyana, hucksters preferred individual meetings to group sessions. In all three
cases, I followed the practice of local scholars by working through a network of trusted
contacts and employing ethnographic techniques. I also carried out participant observation
both at the community level (arcades, markets, roadside stalls, and shops) and at bank and
social functions with microfinance managers and political elites to observe their interactions
with the poor.58
These methods are particularly relevant to this research because I was trying
to understand power relationships between residents in slums and the richer citizens (political
elites and micro bankers) who control economic programs for the urban poor (Coaching at
UWI and CAPRI 2009; Schatz 2009; Bayard de Volo 2009; Seidman 2006; Hall 2003).
Although I shared my own personal information in order to establish trust, my
primary role was to listen to the participants’ stories. Often people interrogated the goals of
this project and asked personal questions, seeing the interview as “an exchange of
information” (Tafari-Ama 2006). In downtown Kingston, where life is based on personal
relationships, the political ethnographic approach and participant-observation unfolded rather
naturally at each site visit. It was common sense to work with informants in the marketplace,
at their home, or place of business in order to understand the locale (Ulysse 2007; Tafari-
Ama 2006). In Jamaica, “hanging on a street corner,” “talking in a yard,” or “sitting on a
bucket at a stall” became sites for the collection of rich research material, as these are the
spaces where people discuss local politics (Freire 2010, 54–55).
58 In Jamaica, I met higglers and hustlas in the Coronation Market, the largest outdoor market on the island, and
in arcades (indoor markets), including Redemption Ground, Pearnel Charles, Oxford Arcade, and the Craft
Market. In Guyana, I met hucksters in Big market, Bourda and Pennington markets.
48
A large part of this study involved going local, and was dedicated to understanding
how people live; to this end, I tried to get close to poor citizens to see for myself how they
access money for business and consumption needs (Collins et al. 2009; Geertz 1962). My
ability to access these areas influenced the selection of communities for this study. After
several interviews with local researchers, I realized that it was important for the quality of my
research to have research assistants who were community-based. Most assistants were Black
low-income single mothers with some high school education, and all were either semi-
employed or unemployed. Only in Jamaica did I have a Black male assistant, a young
Rastafarian who lived in a low-income community and had some college-level studies that
were useful to this project. Figure 1.1 depicts a typical street with corrugated iron fencing for
the tenement yards where I would
conduct interviews before moving
into the “yard.”
Each of the research
assistants, often referred to me by
non-partisan local notables, had lived
experiences in the selected
communities, and each brought their
own instructive lens to the project (Harriott discussions, March through April 2009; Levy
Interview, 9 March 2009 and 12 February 2009).59
If I had proceeded through informal
59 Civil society experts Sharene Mackenzie, Dr. Henley Morgan, and Richard Troupe were also helpful in the
selection of local assistants.
Figure 1.1: Photo of a street in a Kingston slum where
interviews took place.
49
leaders or political persons to obtain acceptable local assistants, my scholarship would have
been tainted. This was difficult, in practice, to avoid; given the highly political nature of my
social situation, it remained unclear at times how I could ensure that the people involved in
my project were not political.60
Jamaica, with one of the highest crime rates in the world, is connected, both directly
and indirectly, to international crime networks. Hence, doing research in this environment is
a challenge (Harriott 2008; 2003, 7; Robotham 2003, 215).61
My experience of violence
varied among the six Jamaican slums in this study (Duncan-Waite and Woolcock 2008, 6).
While conducting interviews in two slums, Whitfield Town and Rosetown, for example, I
often heard gunshots in Rema, a nearby slum in Trench Town. Jamaican assistants were able
to gauge how close the gunshots were from our location. On another occasion during my
fieldwork, I encountered evidence of turf wars in Maxfield Park, where a man called “Five
Cents” found that my presence as an “outdoor”—someone unknown to him—undermined his
perception of himself as an aspiring Don. The area leader from whom I had secured
permission successfully opposed Five Cents.
Knowing the area borders was vital. In areas with less informal structures, permission
from an area leader was required to use a specific lane or area. Borders, well known within
the community, are often invisible to outsiders, and crossing them could be risky and arouse
60 In Jamaica, I let go two persons who I thought were too political and would not fit with the research needs of
this project, which resulted in project delays. However, to preserve the integrity of this project, it was better to
encounter delays than to proceed with overly political persons. 61
More on donships can be found in Blake’s novel Shower Posse (2004). Recent Jamaican films such as
Shottas (2002) and Third World Cop (1997), or a classic film like The Harder They Come (1973), show the
inner-city young men forming rebel groups to contest corrupt state power and business elites.
50
conflict (Anonymous, Interview 24 February 2009). However, my local assistants knew these
boundaries well. An area leader from a People’s National Party (PNP) (one of Jamaica’s
main political parties) stronghold told me, “No Labourite could come into disya area neva
and not fi dead.” Furthermore, a reference from a trusted local person ensured that subjects
could participate in my study without worrying about being perceived as informants. In
September 2009, my work was curtailed in Tivoli Gardens due to America’s extradition
request for Don leader Christopher “Dudus” Coke for narcotics and arms trafficking.62
Local
people advised that I not return to the community because of the tensions, suggesting that my
“foreign-ness” could put the subjects, others, and me at risk.
In order to have access to a community, a researcher requires a network. In the
Caribbean context, arriving with a referral is essential. People often said, “Don’t worry you
will meet everyone you need to meet in good time.” In relatively small societies like
Kingston or Georgetown, interpersonal relations are denser, and indeed I did eventually meet
the people I needed to meet.63
Institutional affiliation with local universities, such as the
University of the West Indies at Mona (UWI/Mona), and with U.S. Fulbright or local NGO
projects gave me credibility in certain elite circles in Jamaica. In interviews, I downplayed
any affiliation to the University of Guyana because of its antagonistic relationship to the
62 During this period, Jamaica’s national papers, The Gleaner and The Observer, provided up-to-date coverage.
See the Guardian: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/jun/24/christopher-dudus-coke-us-extradition-
jamaica and the Gleaner, “Dudus: The man who holds the nation hostage [. . .]” (23 May 2010) and the
Observer’s “The women behind the Dons” (23 May 2010). International press like the New York Times reported
“Jamaica Declares State of Emergency” (23 May 2010), and an op-ed piece by former PNP advisor to Michael
Manley, Orlando Patterson, referred to “Jamaica’s bloody democracy” (NYT 28 May 2010). Also see
Aljazeera’s (2010) report on the Tivoli Gardens civil conflict in June 2010. 63
I met and asked then-Prime Minister Bruce Golding questions about microfinance on 23 July 2009 in his
West Kingston office when carrying out fieldwork in Tivoli Gardens.
51
state. In most cases, it was better to use my University of Toronto affiliation to gain access to
the banks and to state agencies. In Haiti, affiliation with Interuniversity Institute for Research
and Development (INURED) under the guidance of Herms Marcelin was helpful in
establishing my credibility with locals and when visiting slums like Cite Soleil. On my
second trip to Haiti, the IDB assisted me in meeting micro lenders; and a local Haitian NGO,
Quisqueya for International Development (QiFD), set up focus groups.64
In August through
October 2011, I was affiliated with the local UNDP office, which made meeting stakeholders
easy at times.
My previous professional experience in Jamaica allowed me to draw on colleagues
for other potential interviewees among their peers. I adapted a version of the “leaders naming
leaders” method used by Caribbean political scientist Hintzen (1989) in his work in Guyana
and Trinidad, and within weeks of my arrival, I was able to meet all the senior microfinance
officials. However, this method did not connect me with private finance companies working
in the slums, because they were outside of this development network.65
It was rather through
the triangulation of my data (by reading national newspapers and interviewing ordinary
people) that I discovered these latter companies.
Research that requires access into slum areas must be planned carefully in order to
safeguard not only the researcher’s well-being, but that of the subjects. Local academics
point out that research can have dire consequences for local people long after outsiders have
64 In exchange for QiFD assisting me, I shared information I had on the microfinance sector and I trained a
technical staff person on focus group methodologies. More information on the Haitian NGO at:
http://www.qifd.org/ 65
The PIOJ collects information on the Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprise (MSME) sector each year for the
annual publication Economic and Social Survey of Jamaica (ESSJ).
52
left (Ulysse 2007, 168). Gunst’s Born Fi Dead (2003), for example—a book that followed
Jamaican drug posse (gangs) in the U.S.—reportedly was the cause of the deaths of two of its
informants (Tafari-Ama 2006, 204).66
In each of the three countries I visited, I secured
people’s identities and gave them complete anonymity. This gave me access to the corridors
of power and information.67
Only in Jamaica did I have to pass through a series of small test-
like situations with the local gate-keepers who knew the local bosses before I could go into
people’s homes.
During my field work, it was vital that a trusted person confirm who I was to the
subject, as people were wary of divulging information for fear of reprisals. I also had to abide
by rules; in some cases, I was allowed to take dictation freely, while in others, such as when I
was conducting research in high people-traffic areas, I could not write anything down. As
Freire (2010, 131) suggests, knowing how to engage people is critical to data collection
processes: sometimes knowing when to write and when not to write is important.68
I never
used a tape recorder during my field research, as this would have limited my access to
sensitive information. Confidentiality is particularly significant in Kingston and Georgetown
settings. “Aliases” were used for all business persons interviewed in order to protect their
identities, and in many cases I avoided including details and I modified dates and locations to
66 Copies of Born fi Dead are banned in Kingston because of political bias, and the former Prime Minister,
Edward Seaga, allegedly sued the author and publisher. 67
See Teichman (2002, 2001) for ideas on how to interview political and business elites. 68
In Cité Soleil, professor Herns Marcelin discussed issues (without writing) and later wrote down his notes
entirely from memory (Haiti fieldwork, April 2008).
53
ensure complete anonymity (Tafari-Ama 2006, 15).69
Aliases of subjects included “Fatty,”
“Brother,” and “Big Red”—and, as part of the process, Jamaican research participants gave
me the local nickname of “Fluffy.”70
Obtaining recent and micro-level data on the informal sector in all three countries was
particularly challenging, especially in post-earthquake Haiti.71
Jamaican research institutions
have excellent secondary materials and data about the country’s social and economic
environment. These institutions include the Planning Institute of Jamaica (PIOJ); the Sir
Arthur Lewis Institute of Social and Economic Studies (SALISES); the main library of the
UWI/Mona; the Statistical Institute of Jamaica (STATIN); and the Social Development
Commission (SDC).72
In Guyana, the Bureau of Statistics and Cartography department was
helpful in accessing general data by regions, although poverty rates in the slums were
unavailable. However, obtaining documents on Guyana’s micro/small business from civil
servants is nearly impossible unless you have contacts. Furthermore, unlike in Jamaica and
Haiti, the current regime in Guyana seems antagonistic to academics of any kind, making
research difficult.73
I did find the University of Guyana’s library useful for archival work,
and the International Development Studies department, directed by Clive Y. Thomas, also
69 In one case, an interviewee called “Goalie” agreed to an interview on the condition that if I ever met the
director of her bank about her case: she was paying a debt stolen by the former employee. Due to aliases, it took
time, but in the end Goalie was reimbursed by the credit union. 70
Jamaican comedienne, Miss Kitty, coined the term “Fluffy” when referring to plus-size women. 71
In October 2010, the Ministry of Commerce and several government agencies were operating out of tents,
portables, and trailer-like structures. 72
Smaller libraries are housed at the Small Business Association of Jamaica, Agency of Inner City Renewal
(AIR), Development Options Limited, and in the office of Dr. Claremont Kirton, Economics Department at
UWI/Mona. 73
A Guyanese academic and journalist for a privately owned paper, Kaieteur News, was reportedly attacked for
his criticism for the state. This academic was fired from the University of Guyana after 26 years (Kaeiteur News
27 January 2012).
54
had back copies of its journal, Transitions. In town, Go-Invest, a quasi-state agency, has an
extensive collection of newspaper clippings on small business.
In the aftermath of the 2010 earthquake, Haiti has few book shops. There is little
material on microfinance written by local researchers, with the exception of consultants and
practitioners. However, I did obtain data from some Haitian institutions: the Center for
Economic and Social Research and Training for Development (CRESFED) publishes a
journal by local scholars entitled Rencontre and think tank INURED also has on-line
publications and reports about the bidonvilles. Université de Quisqueya holds undergraduate
theses on microfinance. Bookshops in Petion-Ville carry a small collection on Haiti’s politics
by local scholars, and films and documentaries on the political environment are found for
sale on the streets in the city center and Petion-Ville.
Organization of Dissertation
This dissertation is organized into seven chapters. The second chapter, “Historical
Legacy and Current Politics,” analyzes the enslavement and colonial histories and current
politics in each country. Chapter 2 is also supportive of the theoretical framework in that it
maps the political history of each country and explains the unfoldings of enterprise
development. For instance, exclusionary lending is active in the electoral democracy in
Jamaica that is tied to class-based clientelist politics, and Guyana’s political parties are
racialized between East Indian and Afro-Guyanese. Whereas, Haiti’s political history, an
undemocratic state steeped in racial and class conflicts, has staved off race or class biases in
microfinance.
55
The next two chapters examine exclusionary traits in micro lending. Chapter 3, “The
Jamaica Case: Exclusionary Micro Lending in the Slums,” documents the facts that 61% (n =
142) of Jamaican hustlas are not accessing micro loans, and 41% (n = 96) have consciously
opted out of microfinance programs. Dark-skinned Black poor people in the slums are
deliberately overlooked, largely because of microfinance managers’ personal biases. In
addition, hustlas opt out of such programs when they perceive micro-credit is tied to partisan
or informal politics. A principal aim of this chapter is to show that Jamaican microfinance
functions in a way that defeats its purpose: it is not empowering marginalized people, but
reinforcing their exclusion. Chapter 4, “The Guyana Case: Racial Exclusion in Micro
Banking,” reinforces the thesis findings that micro-credit is exclusionary to one racial group.
I argue that Indian-dominated micro loan programs operating in an Indo-centric political
environment alienate Afro hucksters. Race discrimination against Afro-Guyanese limits their
access to micro loans. Informal banks, such as Partner in Jamaica and Box hand in Guyana,
are the result of poor Black women organizing community savings plans. These banks are
revealed as being not merely coping mechanisms to build lump sums of cash, but forms of
social resistance to the manipulative politics of managers in micro-credit.
The fifth chapter, “The Haiti Case: Inclusive Home-Grown Microfinance,” departs
from the other two cases by showing that Haitian lenders, mostly the caisses populaires and
informal banks, are inclusive of the masses’ needs despite society’s deeply entrenched racial
and class politics. Black Haitians that lead the caisses populaires display a social
consciousness. The Haitian people’s love for collectives has influenced the country’s micro
lenders. And, micro banking, unlike many of the country’s other development projects,
effectively reaches marginalized people (Zanotti 2010).
56
In chapter 6, “Gender, Female Privilege and Microfinance,” I examine the other
principal type of exclusionary politics affecting microfinance development—gender identity.
Worldwide, women are important to micro banking in general and in organizing informal
banks, and the Caribbean experience is no exception to this norm. As noted in Table 1.2, in
this study I interviewed 256 (mostly low-income) women (or 56% of the sample) about
access to microfinance. In the Jamaica case, female privileging in micro lending exacerbates
problems for poor women. When micro lenders focus on certain types of women who fit with
the lender’s own personal biases or privilege women over men, female clients are made
vulnerable to social conflicts in their communities.
Male exclusion in microfinance creates conflicts in poor Jamaican households. In the
Guyana case, the reverse is occurring: (Indo) males dominate micro lending to the detriment
of Afro-Guyanese women. Yet Afro-Guyanese hucksters hold that one cannot analyze gender
without race. In the Haitian case, we find educated males making micro loans to very poor
women; however, there is a call for “mixity” (gender balance) in microfinance programs so
that men do not feel ostracized by financial services and withdraw from their family
responsibilities. But these programs, largely driven by the caisses populaires (and influenced
to some extent by the informal banks such as sol), are managed by socially conscious
officials who are rooted in the norms and culture of the society.
Racial and class-based biases permeate micro-credit programs, disadvantaging the
economically-active poor in slum communities. In chapter 7, “Conclusion: Politics of
Microfinance Compared,” I discuss policy implications and suggest that internalized biases
are occurring in countries stratified by cultural cleavages from enslavement and colonization.
57
I am convinced these findings travel to other developing countries. Through this project, I
found that identity biases limit microfinance growth and development and deny people
access to loans for potentially viable micro-businesses in the slums. Business people are also
self-excluding themselves from programs they deem to be manipulative. Finally, Haiti’s case
provides instruction on how class and racial biases can be mitigated to make micro lending
programs responsive to marginalized urban entrepreneurs.
In summary, Yunus’ optimistic quote at the beginning of this chapter to make poverty
a relic of the past is less likely when pro-poor financial experts are oblivious to the identity
and/or partisan politics within the industry. Microfinance leaders are not examining their own
staffing to see if it is representative of the people they serve, or have hired individuals who
know the lived experience of the poor. For real transformative change to take place, staffing
and politics need to be managed. For many who have studied and worked at the local level
this suggestion should not be contentious. As long as identity issues plague the microfinance
sector, and the historically rooted prejudices are not understood or taken into account, then it
is doubtful that microfinance will truly be inclusive financing.
58
Chapter 2 Historical Legacy and Current Politics
Introduction
Caribbean people share a history rooted in the colonial, imperial, and slave
experience as well as a dependent relationship with the U.S. (Mann 2008; Fatton 2002, 2007;
Paravisini-Gebert 1997; Rodney 1996; Terborg-Penn 1995; Fanon 1967; Smith 1964; Stoby
1931). These histories have resulted in a racial class structure in which marginalized Black
groups form the base of an economic pyramid (Hallward 2010, 1; Garner 2008, 16; Mars
1995, 172; Burrowes 1984, 26-28; Smith 1964, 100–102).74
Business elites, often white or
lighter complexioned, have been linked to the state for strategic and financial reasons, and
these collusions persist today (Horowitz 1985).
As I suggest in chapter 1, formulators of microfinance programs seldom consider
culture, despite the fact that it is vital in most developing country contexts. And, this is ironic
given that Caribbean bankers have insisted that their distinct cultural histories be considered
in the constitution of lending programs, which has resulted in the creation of their own
regional network of microfinance separate from Latin America. Yet when they administer
programs, Jamaican and Guyanese lenders have failed to adapt their policies to the
requirements of their local contexts, that is, to the characteristics and needs of the borrowers
their programs were established to serve.
74 Burrowes (1984, 26) refers to this racialized economic environment in the Guyana case as a “colour
pyramid,” where whites are at the pinnacle of economic might, and “field hands,” made up of Indian and
African laborers, are at the bottom.
59
Some Caribbean lenders fail to acknowledge the racial/class hierarchies and politics
of their own settings, even though they are aware that politics shape the nature of their
societies. Kothari (2005) argues, “The grim reality is that the legacy of slavery and
colonialism with racial, gender, and class hierarchies continue [sic] to replicate themselves.”
This replication persists in contemporary social and economic programs, such as
microfinance, leading to the exclusion of many people in the slums. The fact that
microfinance managers fail to observe the powerful impact of historically rooted class and
race-based oppressions within the Caribbean society perpetuates the predicament of those
who are marginalized. Colonized views are ingrained in the educated managers running these
programs for the urban poor, which is how these deeply embedded social biases unfold in
microfinance programs. Because race, class, and gender identities are powerful factors in the
exclusion and self-exclusion of poor people from micro banking, then, it is necessary that we
examine the historical role of identities.
In this chapter, I discuss the political history of all three countries and frame identity
and partisan politics in the context of slum communities. I show that a country’s political
history can explain why internal class or race politics affect certain programs to the urban
poor (e.g., micro-credit). First, I review the making of Jamaica’s political history and the
emergence of clientelist politics among Blacks of different classes and shades. Second, I
examine Guyana’s pluralistic history and the political elites’ (mis)use of race-based politics
to control the opposing racial group. The Anglophone countries Jamaica and Guyana, which
were colonized by the English, arrived at independence much later than Haiti, my third case.
Both Jamaica and Guyana have had relatively stable electoral democracies and neither of
these countries have ever had a military coup. In the final section, I analyze Haiti’s predatory
60
political past, steeped in both class and racial conflicts in which violent and oppressive
regimes since independence have alienated the moun andeyo (poor masses). Repressive
politics have forced excluded people to develop their own coping systems, such as collectives
and cooperatives, at the local level (Fatton 2007; Montasse 1983).
Three Cases: An Overview of Enslavement and Colonialism
Legacies of enslavement and colonialism are etched in many Caribbean people’s
identities because today’s racial make-up is a direct result of a history of racial intermingling.
As Bakan (1990, 6) states, “The ideology of racism was encouraged and legitimized by
colonial powers and those who supported colonial rule.” White male European slave masters
(usually British, Irish, Dutch, Spanish, or French) raped female slaves, and this introduced a
new racial category: mulattos (mixed raced), persons of lighter-complexioned skin. As a rule,
the fairer or lighter-skinned a person is, the better is that person’s social position (Hope 2006;
Bakan 1990). In each of the three countries, those in this lighter-skin racial category inherited
the wealth and status of their forefathers (Smith 1964, 27).75
Guyanese economist C.Y. Thomas’s (1988) typology of race and class politics is
relevant to the Caribbean context, where the moneyed elite—composed of colonialists
(whites) or traditionalists (whitened or creole/mixed race)—and the political elite
(coloured/Black/East Indian) dominate the disenfranchised Black masses. The British first
referred to this mixed racial group as mulattos, and later Jamaicans called Black persons of
75 Smith (1964, 27) argued that offspring by slave women and white men had an “intermediate status” that
ranked them better-off than slaves.
61
light-skinned complexion brownings (Brathwaite 1971).76
Within the creole-Jamaican
society, a class structure tied to race emerged in which mulattos or brownings had the right to
vote and dark-skinned Blacks did not (Rodney 1996, 61–62).77
Only persons of a lighter skin
pigmentation assumed positions of power in the colonial state. I found that the term “Afro-
Jamaican” was and continues to be complex, and can include (or exclude) many shades of
colour. Mixed raced Jamaicans are able to apply the label “Afro-Jamaican” when it suits their
purposes. Today, the island’s richest families are white Jamaicans (like the Issas, Stewarts,
and Matalons). Over the years, inter-marriages have become complex, with brownings
intermarrying with the island’s minority whites, Chinese, Lebanese, and Syrians.
Like Jamaica, Haiti’s intermingling was between white and Black. The French slave
masters intermingled with les brossales (African-born slaves, also called Congos) and this
created the mulatres (mulatto/mixed race) group (Trouillet 1995, 67; Casimir 1993, 74). The
mulatres were the first to emerge as the dominant class at independence (Heinl and Heinl
2005, 22). Intermingling has resulted in complex racial groupings based on shades of skin
colour, but the three dominant groups are les blancs (whites), les mulatres, and les noirs
(Black). Most of the moun andeyo (poor masses) are Kreyol-speaking (Hallward 2010, 1;
The Agronomist 2003; Voodoo and the Church 1998).78
Today, however, there is a Black
class that has used education as a tool to move up the social ladder from the Black masses.
76The term “browning” refers to light-skinned or mixed-raced Jamaicans, who often are well-educated and
belonged to the upper-middle class. I use the term “light-skinned” reluctantly, but it is the only term to describe
the blatant colour codes within these contexts. 77
In the Jamaican and Haitian cases, I employ the term “dark-skinned” to refer to persons maintaining African
physical features. The terms “Afro-Jamaicans” and “Black Haitians” are complex, and pigmentation and class is
often aligned with these variations in skin colour. 78
Vodun, or voodoo, is a traditional religion practiced by many Haitians and often functions as a signifier of
class. See Voodoo and the Church in Haiti (1998).
62
And in the past there were two main groups: mulatres and bossales (African-born slaves).
Casimir (1993, 112) finds that before independence the two groups, mulatres and bossales,
united to fight the French oppressors. After the French left, the whitened elites—called
“bourgeoisie” or “mulatres,” specifically the French-speaking Catholic whitened minority—
economically and politically dominated the majority of very dark-skinned, uneducated,
Voodoo-worshipping Haitians.
Despite the systemic racism, an educated Black elite emerged in politics, first
manifested through the Black liberation leaders Jean-Jacques Dessalines and Toussaint
L’Ouverture. This pro-Black politics, referred to as Noiriste (Black Nationalism), was first
witnessed in Haiti shortly before independence in the early 1800s (Robinson 2007, 15; Heinl
and Heinl 2005, 21).79
Dessalines and L’Ouverture appealed to the mulatres, freed slaves,
and brossales as leaders capable of usurping power from the French (James 1989). Inspired
by the 1789 French Revolution, the slaves carried out a violent revolution, assisted by the
Americans, to overthrow the French (Girard 2010, 57; Robinson 2007, 6; Paquin and Brax
2006, 27; Heinl and Heinl 2005, 111; James 1989, 127).80
After two centuries of slavery, Haitians, inspired by the French Revolution, liberated
themselves (James 1989, 72). The start of freedom began in April 1792 when France agreed,
through the Jacobins’ decree, to give freedom to mulatres (mulattos) and certain creole-
79 L’Ouverture used Noiriste philosophy to mobilize the Africans and Haitian-born against the French
colonizers. Some historians have noted that L’Ouverture, a freed slave, himself owned slaves. Also, review The
Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution by Trinidadian C.L.R. James (1989)
for an account of Haiti’s Revolution. 80
Robinson (2007, 6) argues that the U.S. supported the Haitians against the French because the Haitians
assisted the U.S. in eventually acquiring the Louisiana Purchase from France.
63
Africans (Haitian-born Blacks) (Heinl and Heinl 2005, 48). Once they were free, creole-
Africans Dessalines and L’Ouverture led the brossales to claim independence from France
(Smartt-Bell 2007, 197–244; Trouillot 1995, 37; Heinl and Heinl 2005, 83–85; Farmer 1994,
71). In this bloody revolt, Dessalines and his troops defeated Napoleon’s army and forced all
French settlers to leave. On 1st January 1804, Haiti was the first Black republic, but it
remained isolated and an outcast from the international community for a long time (Acacia
2006, 18; Stotzky 1997, 19; Trouillet 1995, 97; Farmer 1994, 76). As slavery was not
abolished in Britain until 1838 and in America until 1865, the Western powers wanted to
contain the truth about Haiti’s independence so as not to disburb the slave rebellions on the
plantations.
In Guyana, colonial masters, such as the Dutch and British slave masters, raped
African female slaves and introduced a mixed-race group of white and Black, as in the other
two cases. African male slaves were feared, belittled, and defined as lazy by white masters
(Rodney 1981). And the female slaves were viewed as submissive and sexual. It is important
to note that the racist alienation of poor Black men continues in current politics in a way that
is relevant to this project. As in the Jamaican story, these whitened elites (mulattos) were at
the top of the economic ladder due to their advancement under the English colonialists, while
African and Indian Guyanese workers formed the base (Rodney 1996; Burrowes 1984, 26;
Smith 1964; Stoby 1931).81
81 See Smith’s (1964, 29) work on the plantation economy and the staggered race and social structure.
64
As a result of the extensive indentured labour program, many other ethnic groups
were imported and settled in Guyana. Indians composed the largest group of indentured
servants brought into the country because of the British colonial ties to the Indian sub-
continent. This resulted in cultural plurality. The intermingling of Guyana’s two dominant
groups—Africans (who were former slaves) and East Indians (indentured servants)—
introduced another mixed race category unique to Guyana (and Trinidad) called dougla
(offspring of Africans and Indians).82
Racial diversity in Guyana includes the various mixed-
race group categories, as well as European (English, Portuguese, and Spanish), Chinese, and
Amerindian, the indigenous people (Smith 1964, 7).
Imperialism and Resistance
Imperialism at the turn of the 17th century saw the free labour of slaves used to
extract sugar and rum from the colonies. Eventually, offspring of the white planters inherited
the land and riches (Girard 2010; Gardner 1971; Black 1965). Saint Domingue (Haiti) was
first colonized by the Spanish, who eliminated the indigenous population on arrival. France
eventually took control of Saint Domingue, which became the most profitable sugar-
producing colony in the Americas (Heinl and Heinl 2005, 18). The Treaty of Utrecht (1703-
1738) granted the British Empire the Asiento contract, according to which England became
the authorized slave distributor for the region (Black 1965; Young 1958). In Jamaica after
1775, white indentured servants (such as the Portuguese and Irish) moved into plantation
management as Negro slaves increased in numbers to 200,000 (Black 1965; Smith 1964, 42).
Britain gained control of Guyana from the Dutch in 1814, and applied a planter system
82 Refer to the definition of dougla in chapter 1.
65
similar to Jamaica’s in the early years (Mansru 2005; Smith 1964, 19; Bennett 1875).
Because the plantation system was not sustainable without forced labour, after slavery ended
the British used an expansive indenture system in Guyana and Trinidad, and to a lesser extent
in Jamaica (St. Pierre 1999, 35; Rodney 1981, 38).
Anti-slavery movements in Europe also stirred resistance in the colonies. Haiti’s
successful revolution spurred Jamaican slaves to fight their colonizers for freedom in this
revolt led by the Trelawney maroons. In the early 19th
century, slaves in Jamaica and Guyana
initiated their own uprisings against the masters (Black 1965). It took several attempts before
they were successful. Jamaica’s maroons, originally called “Coromantes” (runaway African
slaves) launched guerilla-style warfare against the slave system and its owners.83
In 1808,
slave uprisings in the British colonies forced the passage of the Abolition Bill. The Maroons
fought British slave masters and escaped to the mountains, where they staged attacks on the
planters (Black 1965). The abolition of slavery at that time remained merely a law on paper:
the practice continued until 1838 (Brathwaite 1971), when freedom came to more than
300,000 Jamaican slaves.
The Dutch ruled Guiana for two hundred years, and during the 18th
century the colony
changed hands several times between the Dutch and British (Singh 1006, 7; Burrowes 1984,
3–5; Schomburgk 1970; Bennett 1875). Guyana’s slaves, led by Coffey, attempted resistance
in the unsuccessful Berbice Slave Uprising of 1763 (Hope 1985, 19). In 1814, Guiana was
renamed British Guiana (later known as Guyana) and the British were heavily invested in
83 In today’s Jamaica, maroons, such as Nanny and Cudjoe, are celebrated for their resistance to slavery.
66
maintaining their lucrative sugar estates (Hope 1985, 19). Similar to the Jamaican
experience, Guyana’s slaves were aware of the abolition movement in England, and in 1823,
thousands of slaves revolted in the Demerara Rebellion, which was defeated by the British.84
Like Jamaicans, the Guyanese people had to wait for freedom until 1838 (Burrowes 1984,
26; Schomburghk 1970, 124). Rodney (1996) made a compelling point that slavery did not
end in Guyana until the early 20th
century because of the slave-like indentured system of
Indo-Guyanese.
Thousands of African slaves in all three countries lost their lives during a century of
struggle against slavery. European empires also lost lucrative trade when slavery ended,
having to employ more costly wage labor. A capitalist system with freed slaves who wanted
wage-based employment led to the demise of many plantations, which were not efficient or
profitable without forced labour. The plantocracy economy, controlled by whites, continued
for years after the emancipation period, as the British imported cheap labour from their other
colonies, such as India, to work on the plantations. Cheap contract labour undercut the
demands for market-led wages by the freed slaves. In 1836, foreign banks, such as England’s
Barclays Bank and Canada’s Bank of Nova Scotia emerged in the region to provide loans to
assist the white planters. Despite the access to financing these plantations were not
sustainable enterprises after slavery ended.
84 Rodney (1981, 31–33) documents the recurring slave revolts, which created problems with productivity for
the white planters.
67
Colonial Jamaica and Its Political History
Jamaicans, though freed from slavery in 1838, remained colonized by the British. It
was during this time that a concerted Black nationalist movement surfaced, and the year 1865
saw a turning point in Jamaica’s struggle for independence. At Morant Bay, Paul Bogle,
Jamaica’s national hero, with the help of the Maroons led a revolt against British rule (Bakan
1990; Black 1965), marking the beginning of the Jamaican people’s resistance to British
control. The British response to this rebellion was to appoint a new British governor,
Governor Grant, to introduce development policies in education and economics to modernize
Jamaica. This effort by England was to appease the demands of the freed subjects.
Jamaicans welcomed these investments in education and infrastructure, but most
industries remained in the control of the British. In 1929, Jamaican farmers exploited by the
United Fruit Company formed their own association: the Jamaican Banana Producers
Association (Black 1965). This and other banana associations spread throughout the
productive industries, as workers recognized the need to mobilize into associations and
cooperatives to improve wages. This movement led to the rise of political groups in 1938,
and from these political groups, which were tied to trade unions, emerged political parties
that were focused on the struggle for liberation.85
In towns and villages across Jamaica,
however, people remained unhappy living under colonial rule. Jamaican migrants working in
the Panama Canal realized then that the white colonialists were using them unjustly. Among
85 Major parties in Jamaica were linked to the trade union movements: Bustamante Labour Party (later known as
JLP) was linked to the Industrial Trade Union and Manley’s PNP was tied to the National Workers’ Union.
68
these migrants was Marcus Mosiah Garvey, a leading Black nationalist who first promoted
black pride in the slums of Kingston, where he lived for a number of years (Sives 2010, 3).86
Overseas, Marcus Garvey’s pan-African politics under the Universal Negro
Improvement Association was a movement to free Black people from unjust colonial rule
(Sives 2010; Martin 1983; Black 1965). In the 1930s, Garvey’s ideas resonated in the ghettos
with the Rastafari movement, an oppressed social group, as his positive black teachings fit
with their own African philosophy (Grant 2009; Barrow-Giles 2002; Bakan 1990; Martin
1983, 52).87
The Jamaican diaspora living in New York as well as African-Americans facing
similar struggles supported his cause. However, British colonizers, local whites, and
browning elites found Garvey’s Afro-centrist discourse divisive: local whites, for example,
opposed Garvey’s distinction between local whites and the Black masses. Norman Manley
and Alexander Bustamante, the Jamaican leaders who led the country to self-government in
1936 and later independence from Britain, were threatened by Garvey’s radical call for poor
Blacks to take power from foreign and local whites (Martin 1983).88
Bustamante and Manley viewed Garvey’s philosophy as a distraction from the
independence project. Alexander “Busta” Bustamante, a creole white (later to be named one
of the founders of independence), was to become the country’s first prime minister.
Bustamante, who earned his money as a money lender to the poor in the ghettos, was leader
86 Marcus Garvey remains an important political figure for underprivileged Black youth, as witnessed at Liberty
Hall on Duke Street, in downtown Kingston.
87 Rastafari, a faith that developed in Jamaica in the 1930s, has spread to most Caribbean countries. Rastafari is
as a cultural and political movement and a way of life infused with Judeo-Christian teachings and Ethiopia’s
Emperor Haile Selassie (1930–1936 and 1941–1974) is considered God incarnate, or Jah. 88
Self-governance meant that the Jamaican educated elites would manage their country’s political and
economic affairs locally with limited involvement from Britain.
69
of the Bustamante Industrial Trade Union (BITU), which in 1943 partnered with the Jamaica
Labour Party (JLP). Norman Manley, also a white Jamaican and Bustamante’s cousin, was
affiliated with the National Workers’ Union (formerly the Trade Union Council) and later
created a rival party, the People’s National Party (PNP). In 1936, the self-government
achieved by these two local elites set the stage for a two-party system in Jamaica (Bakan
1990; Black 1965).
By the late 1940s, nationalism was on the rise. Jamaicans of all colours (races)
unified in the struggle for independence. Payne (1994, 6) suggests that in Jamaica, the “basic
homogeneity and small size of the country allowed for the construction of a national
identity.” Instead of undermining the trade union and cooperative movement, political
leaders incorporated workers into the political system. In 1943, Bustamante and Manley
collaborated in the fight for universal suffrage because they resented that Jamaicans, who
fought alongside British troops in World War II, were denied the vote. Both cousins
organized labour through their respective political parties, thus dividing the working classes’
political loyalty between them (Bronfman 2007, 69; Charles 1999; Black 1965). As a result,
political elites often resorted to clientelistic tactics in order to retain the poor’s loyal to their
political party (Helmke and Livistsky 2004; Dittmer 2000; Szeftel 2000; Stone 1980).89
In 1955, PNP became the first sitting local party and the Cabinet was authorized to
seek independence. British colonizers granted permission to Jamaican leaders to work with
regional leaders to set up a political federation with Trinidad, Guyana, and Barbados, which
89 Clientelism is defined as an exchange of material rewards (e.g., money, jobs) by a boss or elite in exchange
for intangible services, such as political support by the poor, the clients (Scott 1977). I find that Szeftel’s
definition of coercive dependence and threat of violence for her work in Africa fits the Jamaican experience.
70
would be termed collectively the British West Indies. Under a newly crafted constitution, the
PNP was re-elected in 1959 as the governing party. However, in 1962 the Federation broke
down as Jamaicans agitated for independence. In that same year, Jamaica gained its own
independence. Bustamante, who had launched the Jamaican Labor Party (JLP), was the first
person to govern an independent Jamaica.
Throughout the 1960s, Bustamante and Manley, in order to obtain power, enticed
poor Blacks with promises of jobs, money, and houses to carry out thuggish politicking
against other poor Blacks (Gunst 2003; Ledgister 1998; Payne 1994; Stone 1994; Keith and
Keith 1992; Bakan 1990; Harder they Come film 1973). Stone (1986, 1994) argues that since
the 1967 election, armed political gang leaders from Kingston’s downtown slums have
organized party activists. At election times, Kingston’s ghettos become sites of conflicts over
scarce resources, because people know that having their party in power means money for
them. Election violence was so intense in the 1970s that musician Rasta Robert “Bob” Nestor
Marley held a peace concert and reflected on the political wars in his reggae music (White
2000).
Independent Jamaica
Jamaica, with a population of 2.7 million (World Bank 2011), has a long-standing
democracy that has been shaped by its political history. Today many descendant beneficiaries
of the planter class live in hill top mansions in the wealthy Beverly Hills area, while
descendants of slaves live in the impoverished shanty towns below and continue to work in
informal markets (Rapley 2003). Socio-economic factors are compounded by differences in
skin-colour to produce a class-based apartheid that divides Jamaicans. Most residents living
71
in the downtown ghettos are very dark-skinned and those who control resources are usually
educated and fair-complexioned. This colour and class dynamic has changed little since the
colonial period. The independence struggle itself saw near-white leaders, Bustamante and
Manley, bringing the Black working classes as activists into the political process through the
trade union movement. For most of the country’s history, then, party leaders have been
educated, light-skinned browning elites and their followers have been poor Blacks.
Politics in Kingston, Jamaica’s main urban centre, is marred at election time by
racialized violence. Whitened political elites make promises of money, lodgings, and jobs to
very poor political activists who, if they fail to deliver the vote for their candidate, will lose
the political hand-outs. Academics have written extensively on this entrenched mechanism
wherein elites use uneducated Black masses in the ghettos to carry out heinous crimes to
assure votes and political victory (Sives 2010; Bronfman 2007; Tafari-Ama 2006; Ledgister
1998; Stone 1994, 1986, 1980; Nettleford 1989).90
Panton (1993) argues that this division
between the classes, which is tied to racial markings, has laid the foundation for a patron-
clientelistic framework in Jamaican politics. Poverty, endemic in the urban areas of
Kingston, has enabled political elites to misuse resources to secure votes for their party, and
this trend continues into present-day politics (Henry-Lee 2005, 84). Years of whitened
politicians using residents in the slums to carry out their dirty work has led Blacks to distrust
near-white political and business elites.
90 In Going Home to Teach (2006, 89–99) Anthony Winkler argues that being Black is less a colour and more
like a way of being where one’s class also denotes colour. In other words, poor Blacks may view a rich and
educated dark-skinned Jamaican not as Black like them because of the class distinction (This issue will come up
again in chapter 3).
72
While political elites continue to control the slums, relatively new actors called
“Dons” emerged in the 1980s. Dons are informal leaders in the community who run lucrative
illegal activities (e.g., drugs and weapons trafficking) and provide security and welfare
services for slum residents in exchange for complete control of the community. The rise of
don power came about in the 1980s, when structural adjustment programs and reforms
limited politicians from disbursing benefits to followers. Dons at this time became important
actors in the provision of welfare. With the rise of the narcotics trade in the Caribbean since
the 1980s, Jamaicans are very aware of their politicians’ alliances with Dons. The local
connotation “Big Man” refers to either a politician or these informal leaders. Indeed, the
collusion between politicians and Dons is a common theme in popular film, theatre, music,
and media.91
The practices of political gifts, kickbacks, and handouts from the politicians or
Dons are thus deeply entrenched in downtown Kingston (Keith and Keith 1992, 160).
Political slums in Kingston are defined by an area’s affiliation to one of the two
political parties: PNP or JLP. These slums, also called “garrisons,” take on a “political tribe”
persona: residents are either “PNP” or “JLP” depending on which political party controls the
area. An entire community votes one particular way and there is no tolerance for opposition.
Some garrison communities have an established structure, referred to as “one order,” in
which an informal leader Don controls all of the community’s affairs (Rapley 2006, 95-97;
91 Perry Henzell and Trevor Rhone’s The Harder They Come (1973) and recent films such as Shottas (2002) and
Third World Cop (1999) show the ties between criminals from the ghettos and political and business elites.
Nordisk’s film by Asgar Leth, Les Chimères de Cité Soleil (2007), shows the warring gangs allegedly set up
under Aristide.
73
Figueroa and Sives 2003, 66).92
In songs and movies, the concept of “politricks” (politics
characterized by dishonesty) is widely discussed among poor Jamaicans, showing that they
are aware not only of how politicians use them for votes, but of the high costs of any benefits
that come through partisan politics when Dons are involved (Bonitto 2008).
Dons, tied to the political elites by guaranteeing votes in exchange for government
contracts, must ensure that residents vote for the correct party. In the 1980s, structural
adjustment programs (SAPs) imposed by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) scaled back
welfare functions, leaving informal leaders to fill the gaps and provide basic welfare services
and policing in certain ghettos. These measures secured popular support from many of those
who live in the garrisons (Robotham 2003, 216). Because of increasing profits from the
extortion of business elites and from the drug and weapons trade, Dons now often have more
financial resources and power than elected leaders.
Dons have created “states within a state” (Sives 2010; 2002; Bronfman 2007; Tafari-
Ama 2006; Robotham 2003; Harriott 2003; Stone 1986). For example, Tivoli Gardens’
former Don, Christopher “Dudus” Coke—whose informal trade and registered legal
businesses are known as “Incomparable Enterprises” and “Presidential Click”—received
state contracts for millions of dollars in construction and for the cleanup of gullies and
sewage systems (Robotham 2003, 215; Charles 2002, 32).93
In 2010, capture of Dudus for
92 The Garrison: A Place Governed by Its Own Laws, a novel by Jamaican writer Sean Harris, gives insights
into the informal power structures in the Kingston slums. 93
For Tivoli Gardens’ drug lord’s various activities, including contracts from the State, see:
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/us_and_americas/article7135596.ece
74
extradition to the United States led to widespread disorder and rioting in West Kingston and
resulted in the deaths of policemen and residents.
Given the presence of both clientelist politics and a democratic tradition, there are
opposing views about the country’s political history (Stone 1986). On the one hand, Jamaica
is seen as a long-standing pillar of democratic traditions; on the other, the country is
characterized as an electoral sham, where political elites incite electoral violence, engage in
clientelistic politics, and misuse democracy for their own self-serving interests (Sives 2010;
Rapley 2006; Figueroa and Sives 2003; Harriott 2003). Although Jamaica’s state has been
stable since independence, and its democracy is secure in spite of class inequalities and
clientelism to control votes (Stone 1986), clientelistic tendencies in Jamaican politics make it
difficult to imagine that such manipulation is absent in economic programs (such as
microfinance) in the garrisons.
Jamaica’s Post-Colonial Politics: Presidents Manley and Seaga (1972-1992)
Jamaica’s post-independence period had two main actors: the PNP’s Michael Manley
(1972–1980; 1989–1992) and the JLP’s leader Edward Seaga (1980–1989). Both men have
left an indelible mark on the politics of the country. Patronage politics were prevalent during
the political era of both Seaga and Manley: in particular, both leaders were associated with
the clientelist politics that still grip the country today (Bronfman 2007, 69). Since
independence, the JLP governments under Bustamante, Sangster, and later Shearer (1962–
1972) were successful in institutionalizing political hand-outs to ensure the electoral vote.
Once in office, the JLP governments moved the country towards import substitution
75
industrialization (ISI) policies to attract foreign investment and to develop local industries
(Jamaican Information Service website 26 May 2011; Payne 1994).
Michael Manley—the son of Norman Manley, the PNP leader in early times—
emerged in 1972 as an important leader for the Third World non-alignment movement. To
get to office, Michael Manley engaged in clientelistic politics because there was an
understanding that patronage motivated his supporters (Sives 2010). He came to office with a
socialist agenda that involved: (1) ensuring that the domestic economy was free from foreign
control and accountable to the people; (2) reducing social inequalities through the
distribution of social benefits, such as education; and (3) ensuring people’s participation in
the political process (Payne 1994). During his first term, he nationalized foreign-owned
enterprises and forced joint ventures between local and international firms (Panton 1993).
Manley developed his version of “democratic socialism,” which provided welfare
services to the poor, and where possible he rewarded his supporters with housing and literacy
and employment programs, such as the self-employment program. In 1977, the government
acquired local branches of foreign banks, such as England’s Barclay’s Bank, and merged
them into the fully Jamaican-owned National Commercial Bank (NCB), which began lending
to Black small and medium firms (Deborah Thomas 2004, 79). Manley’s nationalist policy
limited trade between local businesses and America because of state levies on American
bauxite firms and an increasingly close relationship to Cuba. American leaders, antagonized
by these moves, restricted imports from Jamaica.
While Manley’s nationalization proved beneficial to a growing local business class,
Edward Seaga, aware of Thatcher’s and Reagan’s neoliberal agendas of the 1980s,
76
challenged Manley. The pro-market national paper, The Gleaner, also criticized Manley’s
socialist stance, labelling him a “communist” (Sives 2010, xxvi; Payne 1994). Although
Manley decided to change his nationalistic platform to a free market one, this shift in his
agenda towards market-led policies came too late: his statist moves and the “communist”
label lost him the 1980 election to Seaga’s JLP (Payne 1994). The extreme electoral violence
of the 1980 election resulted in the deaths of 889 people (Sives 2010, 118; Howard 2005; The
Jamaica Observer, “Mayhem and Massacres,” 7 September 2000; Ledgister 1998).
Edward Seaga, an American-born and Harvard-educated son of white-Jamaican
parents, had returned as a graduate student to study African spirituality and religions in the
countryside and in Tivoli Gardens (West Kingston). In the 1960s, Bustamante saw potential
in Seaga’s charisma and appointed him Minister of Development and Welfare. Welfare
portfolios gave Seaga the power to reward party followers, and he started building housing
complexes in the Kingston neighbourhood of Tivoli Gardens (Gray 2004, 179).94
These
buildings are still standing in “Belgium,” “Haiti,” and “Bumbs” (West Kingston). Later,
Seaga served as Minister of Finance under Hugh Shearer and he eventually replaced Shearer
as leader of the JLP in 1974 (Payne 1994; Panton 1993).
In the 1980s, Seaga’s pro-market politics enticed brownings and near-white Jamaican
elites to return home to invest (Sandbrook et al. 2007, 17). American investors, Seaga’s close
allies, were given export-free-zone contracts, and soon President Ronald Reagan wanted to
“showcase Jamaica as a free enterprise experiment in the Caribbean” (Panton 1993, 68–84).
94 Gray (2004, 179) notes that the PNP’s Tony Spaulding built housing schemes for supporters in Arnett
Gardens.
77
American firms aligned with Seaga’s free market policies and invested in the country. For
example, Hanes Jamaica Limited, a Virginia-based company, set up in Kingston’s free trade
zone where Jamaicans assembled products from American-made materials (see Life and Debt
2001).
Seaga also agreed to SAPs with the World Bank and stabilization programs with the
IMF, which negatively affected the poor (Thomas 2004; Bernal 1994; Davies 1994). As part
of the market reform, Seaga implemented licensing requirements on higglers (informal
market vendors), a policy he dubbed “formalizing higglering”) to enable the government to
collect taxes and to restrict their importation of goods (Ulysse 2007, 50).95
Seaga renamed
higglers “informal commercial importers” (ICIs) (Ulysse 2007, 95; Freeman 2001, 1008),96
a
name change intended to bring these entrepreneurs under the tax structure, as well as to
arrange a system for import duties for the state. Yet, no social benefits were to accrue to this
group, nor was there any state policy to assist the vendors to access credit and business
training, even though many of these sellers came from slums that elected him to power.
Ulysse (2007, 277) argues that higglers were negatively targeted by the Seaga government
through taxation, the seizing of goods by custom officers, and harassment by police when
selling in streets or the open-markets. This harassment led to the formation of the Jamaican
Higglers and Sidewalk Vendors Association in 1986.
95 See Wong (1996), Witter (1989), Harrison (1988), Katzin (1959) and Mintz (1955) for work on higglers. A
more recent study by Freeman (2001, 1021) examines the new role of the “suitcase trader” (e.g., higgler). 96
At a SALISES conference, a rich businessman argued that cheap imports brought in by higglers are to blame
for the downfall of the manufacturing sector in Jamaica, and labelled these traders “smugglers” (Witter 1989;
UWI 1989). This issue was noted in my interview with a white businessman in Kingston, 21 July 2009.
78
Seaga’s control of informal traders and push for free markets was rewarded with a
constant stream of American aid. The increased USAID budget enabled Seaga in 1985 to
improve relations with the informal sector through the self-start fund (SFF), a program to
support new micro enterprises in slums communities (Webber 2000, 7; Richfield and Pace
Investment Limited, 1994). The SSF program was managed by Seaga’s wife, and party
activists of the JLP were the main recipients of the micro loans. The political nature of the
program was underlined by interviewees, who stated that Seaga’s SSF program only helped
its JLP supporters (Interviews at MIDA and SSF, 10 March and 15 April 2009).
Unbeknownst to the IMF, then, Seaga’s political welfare programs were a cover through
which he gave benefits to supporters in West Kingston.97
Like previous elections, those in 1989 were violent. Politicians doled out benefits and
money to gangs and activists to bring in the vote. In his second term as Prime Minister,
Manley had a new political platform—“Better Must Come” and “Power for the People”—
which continued the move towards a free market ideology (Sandbrook et al. 2007, 17; Bernal
1994; Best and Forrant 1994; Panton 1993). As part of his rightward shift, Manley launched
the Micro Investment Development Agency (MIDA) in 1991 with USD$800,000, whose
small loans were reported to me in interviews as being based on political patronage and
clientelism for members of the PNP (Anonymous Interview, details withheld on purpose;
Ffrench 2008; Richfield and Pace Investments Limited 1994). In 1991, the Manley
government implemented a three-year enterprise project, and party candidates were required
to contribute funds into the project (Chin Interview, 10 March 2010).
97 Barriteau (2006) makes a similar argument about former prime minister Eugenia Charles of Dominica.
79
For thirty years (from 1962 to 1992) politics in Jamaica was dominated by
white/near-white elites and financed by wealthy families (Thomas 2004; Thomas 1988; Keith
and Keith 1992).98
A Black educated class emerged in the post-independence period, and
when Manley retired from politics, the country’s first dark-skinned prime minister, Percival
James (P. J.) Patterson, took office in 2006, followed by the first female leader (also dark-
skinned), Portia Simpson-Miller (Robotham 2000, 1).99
Within the PNP party, there was in-
fighting for years following this because some politicians (of fair complexion) criticized
Simpson-Miller for her lack of education (Sives 2010, 171; Field work 2009).
In 2007, the next leader of Jamaica, Bruce Golding (2007-2011), a browning from the
JLP, once advocated for the end of “tribal” politics (clientelism) won by 50.26 per cent of the
vote (Sives 2010, 171). Initially, he had a serious dispute with Seaga over this issue, and it
resulted in Golding leaving the JLP, and in 1995 he created the New Democratic Movement
(NDM) (Figueroa and Sives 2003, 82). After a short stint, he returned in 2002 re-join the JLP
and to replace Seaga as leader of the JLP. Golding also became a member of parliament for
what had been Seaga’s West Kingston constituency. Amidst controversy, Golding suddenly
resigned in October 2011, allegedly because of his connections to a former Don of Tivoli
Gardens. Andrew Holness (another browning, light complexioned Jamaican) became prime
minister until December 2011). Despite the internal conflicts in the PNP, on December 29,
2011, Simpson-Miller was re-elected prime minister (2012 to present).
98 Keith and Keith (1992) point out that UWI academics have criticized the near white complexion of capitalists
and heads of state agencies. 99
Opposition Leader Simpson-Miller (2009) is the MP for South St. Andrew (which includes Whitfield Town
and some of Maxfield Park included in this study).
80
In July 2010, Golding’s West Kingston constituency rioted when citizens opposed the
U.S. extradition request for local Don Christopher “Dudus” Coke of Tivoli Gardens on drugs
and weapons trafficking. Golding allegedly hired the law firm Manatt, Phelps and Philip to
fight the American request. This controversy once again implicated politicians, including
Golding with being in collusion with drug dealers.100
And while politicians reject these
alliances, the press routinely exposes the relationships (Harriott 2008; Rapley 2006; Hope
2006).101
Leading newspapers The Gleaner and the Jamaica Observer often criticize
politicians for links to Dons. Politicians complain about criminal elements, yet they often
attend funerals and social events with Dons who are known for their illicit activities. The
constituency of Prime Minister Portia Simpson-Miller (2012 to present) in South West St.
Andrew is also overrun with gangs, area leaders, and Dons vying for control.
Microfinance in the slums is vulnerable to a historical legacy of clientelistic politics
in which Big Men make cash allowances available to the urban poor. The lending
environment is complicated by a history of politicians allocating economic resources to party
followers, which later shifted to Dons making loans to slum dwellers. Not only do financial
institutions make micro loans but informal lenders such as politicians and Dons are active in
micro banking.
100 See more at the Jamaica Observer, a leading national paper:
http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/news/Taxpayer-tab-for-Manatt---Dudus--Enquiry-soon_8146902 101
On-line stories in The Gleaner going back to 2001 discuss relations between Dons and politicians. See
http://www.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20091207/lead/lead10.html and http://www.jamaica-
gleaner.com/gleaner/20010514/news/news1.html), and Ian Boyne’s piece,
http://mobile.jamaicagleaner.com/20090517/focus/focus1.php
81
Colonization, Independence, and Guyana’s Political History
Guyana, a pluralist country and another English-speaking case, is one of the poorest
countries in the region. Guyana is the only Anglophone country in South America and it
identifies itself culturally as Caribbean. It is also a relatively small country with great
diversity among its population of 756,000 (World Bank 2011), composed of six recognized
races: East Indians, Africans, Europeans, Amerindians (indigenous peoples), Chinese, and
mixed race; as well as three main religions: Christianity, Hinduism, and Islam (Hope 1985,
13; Smith 1964, 117).102
The National Census (2002, 2) found that the largest ethnic groups
were East Indians at 43.5% and Africans at 30.2 %, with mixed-race (dougla and others)
background at16.7%, Amerindians at 9.2%, and whites and Chinese less than 1%.103
The Dutch first ruled Guyana (1580–1803) and later the British (1803–1966) (Dalton
1885). In 1833, freed slaves, no longer forced to live on the plantations, pooled their earnings
from agricultural sales and wages to form cooperatives. With no state services, former slaves
organized cooperatives, and it was through these that the Negro “village movement” grew
(1838 to 1852). Guyanese historian Maurice St. Pierre (1999, 69-70) reports that
cooperatives became the only alternative for Blacks, who were denied financial services
under colonial rule. In 1914, freed slaves formed “Task Gangs” to organize into
cooperatives—such as “Up and On Clubs,” “Buying Clubs,” and “Saving Unions”—and to
meet their livelihood needs. Africans denied loans under the colonial administration relied
102 Guyanese historian Walter Rodney (1981, 1–3) explains that the indigenous people of Guyana were the
Amerindians, the people who inhabited present-day Guyana when the Dutch explorers first came to the coastal
areas in 1598. The Amerindians are made up of the Caribe, Arawak, and Warao tribes. 103
Gibson (2005, 10–11) finds that since 1992 there has been a steady population decline of Afro-Guyanese and
contends that Afros do not identify with being Black and will choose the mixed-race category because of the
oppressive state politics.
82
on these cooperatives and informal banking systems such as Box hand to buy land and
villages. Buxton is an example of Africans collectively coming together to buy title of the
land to create an ancestral home for emancipated slaves (Greenidge 2001, 17; Daly 1974,
141; Smith 1964, 40).
Despite these efforts, however, colonial state leaders and the planters thwarted
African entrepreneurialism by bringing in cheap foreign labour to sustain plantations and
control market prices. As outlined in an earlier section, prior to the emancipation, British
planters had relied on free labour to ensure profitable rice and sugar estates. Once slavery
ended, the British activated large-scale indentured laborer programs from 1824 to 1917 as a
way to continue running the plantations. During this period, the British East India Trading
Company brought in Indians (also called coolies) to farm for very little pay. East Indians
lived in logies (old slave houses) and worked on sugar and rice plantations, and their low
wages undercut the bargaining power of the freed Africans (Mansru 2005, 4–5; St. Pierre
1999, 42; Singh 1996, 4; Burrowes 1984, 4–6; Rodney 1981, 178; Nath 1950).
Plantations were dependent upon British subsidies—including the indentured servants
program—to operate. Because the British state subsidized Indian labour, white planters no
longer worked within a market system, nor were they required to give in to African wage
demands (Greenidge 2001). Mansru (2005, 68) argues that this importation of cheap migrant
labour thus limited African emancipation, as Africans were unable to bargain for higher
wages. Planters labelled Africans as “lazy niggers,” further dividing the two landless groups
(Rodney 1981, 181). Colonial masters used this discourse to emasculate Blacks and
especially the males. Blacks responded negatively to the Indian immigrants, who undermined
83
their bargaining power with the planters and they regarded these foreign-born Indians as
inferior because of the latters’ language and religions—Hindu and Muslim—which they saw
as cultural attributes far from the Western ideal (Rodney 1981, 180). The indentured servants
program resulted in deep-seated tensions between Africans and Indians.
Guyana’s political history—steeped in plantation class interests marked by racial
divisions—is complicated (Young 1958; Stoby 1931; Dalton 1885). Portuguese and Chinese
groups, initially imported as indentured servants, transitioned into the merchant class once
the British started importing cheap labour from India (St. Pierre 1999, 38; Smith 1964, 44).
However, the Portuguese shop-keepers were hated by the Afro-Guyanese, who felt they were
discriminated against. As early as 1856, during the Angel Gabriel Riots, Africans rebelled
against the Portuguese for not selling goods to them (Majeed 2005, 149; St. Pierre 1999,
39).104
A colonial system rooted in racial stratifications that separated and played the races
against each other (especially Indians and Africans) (Garner 2008, 19). The English left
Guyana with the coming of independence set for 1966, and those whitened elites who stayed
such as the Portuguese and Chinese inherited political and economic power.
Race Politics in Post–Independent Guyana
Modern-day politics is rooted in the racial and polarized politics of Guyana’s past.105
Prior to Guyana’s independence in 1966, two leaders had emerged: one Afro, Linden Forbes
104 National Museum in Georgetown’s notes state, “Their (Portuguese) success was evident with the
consequence that the Negroes became jealous and displayed animosity towards them.” Wording constructs the
Afro-Guyanese as violent and angry and Indians as industrious. (Visit, 10 May 2010). 105
In the television program Spotlight, which aired a segment entitled “Reconciliation in Guyana” to discuss the
problematic race relations in the country (22 April 2010), UG’s Andrew Hicks, argued for affirmative action for
Afro-Guyanese to level the playing field.
84
Sampson Burnham, and one Indo, Cheddi Jagan, who forged an alliance to oust British
colonial control. They also created the People’s Progressive Party (PPP). Starting in 1954,
Jagan assisted in the development of rice and sugar farming in Black Bush Polder and West
Ruimsveldt as a way to drum up political support from the Indians. Greenidge’s study (2001)
on land settlements suggests cooperative development under Jagan’s PPP recruited
supporters and party politics assisted his PPP supporters. In 1955, this power-sharing
arrangement broke down, and Burnham broke away from the PPP and created the People’s
National Congress (PNC) (Gibson 2006, 372; Trotz 2004, 2; Singh 1996, 57; Smith 1964,
179).
Post-colonial Guyanese politics has replicated the British system of racial division to
possess control. Cheddi Jagan, father of independence, and a person from a humble social
background recognized an opportunity to use the racial demographics of the country for his
own agenda. Jagan called on Indo-Guyanese to “apanjaat,” a Hindi word for “vote for your
own kind” (Nettles 2007, 63; St. Pierre 1999, 138). At independence, the Western powers
feared Jagan’s Communist leanings, yet Jagan emerged as the party’s leader in 1957
(Ramharack 2005; St. Pierre 1999, 177; Jagan 1997; Burrowes 1984, 100). Jagan and
Burnham had developed ethnically based political parties, in which Indians rallied around
Indo leader Jagan, while Afros supported Burnham (Gibson 2005, 8; Dupuy 1996). Burnham
learned quickly that he had to widen his appeal beyond the Blacks and bring in middle-class
support (Currie Interview, 3 May 2010; Philips Interview, 30 April 2010).
The 1960s race riots shaped the country’s modern politics and race relations. Racial
tensions began in 1962 on “Black Friday” when people rioted against new taxes brought in
85
by the PPP (Singh 1996, 77; Hope 1985, 50). By 1964, racial violence between Jagan’s
Indian base and Burnham’s Afro constituency had elevated to new levels (Hope 1985, 50): at
least 175 persons were killed and thousands more injured, and hundreds of women were
raped (Trotz 2004, 5–7; Burrowes 1984, 189). With the increased violence, many Portuguese
and Chinese emigrated elsewhere giving the Indo-Guyanese an opportunity to rise as the
dominant racial group in business over the African and Amerindian people (Scott Interview,
13 May 2010; Shury Interview, 21 April 2010).
These 1960s riots entrenched fear about the “other side” and many communities still
remain racially segregated. In villages like La Grange or Goed Fortuin (West Bank
Demerara), Indo-Guyanese live in close-knit segregated communities, holding onto
memories of the riots (Fieldwork, April and May 2010). In the 1966 election, Burnham
played on the fear of communism encouraged by the U.S. and branded Jagan as a Cuba-
supporting Communist. This resulted in an electoral win for the U.S.-backed PNC under
Burnham and in coalition with D’Aguiar’s United Force to form the first government in an
independent Guyana (St. Pierre 1999, 177; Daly 1974, 193).
Post-Colonial Guyana: Politics under Burnham’s PNC (1964 to 1985)
Burnham’s authoritarian regime ruled for 21 years and was characterized by socialist
rhetoric and clientelist practices (Burrowes 1984, 275). Hence, Guyana by the late 1960s had
become a single-party government led by the minority ethnic group, the Afro-Guyanese, to
the exclusion of the large Indian population. Burnham embraced nationalist development to
confront the foreign-owned enterprises that dominated the economy in the 1970s, such as
Bookers Stores Limited, Geddes Grant Limited, and JP Santos and Company Limited
86
(Burrowes 1984, 295; Davis 1979; Smith 1964, 60). Bookers, the largest British firm of
these, referred to as “Bookers Guyana” since the colonial period, finally left in 1976 under
Burnham (Sookdeo 1997; Burrowes 1984, 14; Smith 1964, 83–85). Burnham’s government
(1970–76) nationalized sugar and bauxite companies, such as the American company
Reynolds and Canada’s Alcan (Burrowes 1984, 280-284). These dominating state-owned
enterprises discouraged local Indian businessmen from investing in the country, which led to
mass emigration (Greenidge 1981).
Burnham invested in nationalization projects and cooperatives because they fit with
his socialist political agenda. He drew on the African legacy of cooperative development
after slavery as part of his state-controlled agenda. Burnham defined cooperatives as the
mechanism needed “To make the small man a real man” (Burrowes 1984, 246).106
Burnham’s “Declaration of Sophia” viewed cooperatives as the vehicle for economic
empowerment, and in 1970 Burnham declared Guyana a “cooperative republic” (Barrow-
Giles 2002, 210). Although his tri-sectoral strategy of private sector, state, and cooperatives
were intended to emancipate the “small man,” few citizens believed this given the corruption
and mismanagement under his regime (Thomas 2007; 1988, 251; Raghunandan and Kistow
1998, 75). Indeed, cooperatives were largely mismanaged by Burnham to fund his party
supporters.
The state’s tagline—“To make the small man a real man”—never materialized
because it was imposed top-down by political elites (Barrow-Giles 2002, 210; Burrowes
106 The Guyanese term “small small man” refers to a poor person.
87
1984, 246). Burnham created the Guyana National Cooperative Bank, the country’s first
locally-owned bank, and later set up other state-owned banks, such as the Guyana
Cooperative Agricultural and Industrial Bank (GAIBANK) and the Guyana Bank for Trade
and Industry (Sookdeo 1997). Starting in the 1970s, the Guyana National Cooperative Bank
and GAIBANK are believed to be the first micro lenders. However, these institutions were
mainly political tools, and clients were not required to repay loans because they pledged
political support (Greenidge 1981, 175). Raghunandan and Kistow (1998) argue that the
Burnham government’s subsidies to cooperative banks allowed him to misuse funds for his
own personal gain, resulting in financially unsustainable cooperatives.
Throughout the 1970s, Burnham’s leftist propaganda penetrated every aspect of life
(Thomas 1988, 260). At an agriculture commune in the jungle, the mass suicide by 900
followers of Jim Jones’s People’s Temple in 1977 signaled to the public that the Burnham
regime would permit highly questionable activities as long as long as they paid off the
regime (Singh 1996, xv; Burrowes 1984, 294). However, the Black urban masses, which had
been duped into believing the Burnham government would help them, eventually resisted his
paternalistic power and corrupt regime (Burrowes 1984).
Guyanese scholar Greenidge (1981) argued that state power reached so far into
people’s everyday lives that fear was rampant. The state controlled the private sector and
community development. In order to hurt the Indian opposition, Burnham banned imported
staples important to the East Indian diet, such as flour, split peas, and potatoes (Mars 1995,
180). However, his interference in the market for political control harmed not only Indian-
owned businesses engaged in imports, but his ban on imports also negatively affected the
88
Afro-Guyanese who supported him (Kaeiteur News 11 December 2011; Samaroo, Interview
6 May 2010; Philips Interview, 30 April 2010). Policies to subjugate and humiliate Indo-
Guyanese led to the emigration of Indian business class and professionals to the U.S. and
Canada, and regionally to Trinidad and Barbados. Burnham’s corruption accelerated an
economic crisis in the early 1980s, and poor Afro-Guyanese turned to huckstering (trading)
as a means of survival, and a way to resist the political handouts of an oppressive regime.
Educated Blacks who questioned Forbes Burnham’s undemocratic regime became
political targets. One of the best-known critics of the regime was Walter Rodney, an Afro-
Guyanese intellectual who formed the leftist Working People’s Alliance (WPA) (Rodney
1996, 60).107
Rodney claimed that the Burnham regime employed the “divide and conquer
strategy” that white colonizers used to control African slaves and East Indian indentured
servants. Rodney argued that Jagan and Burnham misused the poor for their own political
ends: Jagan used anti-Black messages to scare the rural land-owning (but poor) Indians into
voting for him, and Burnham rallied the Afro-Guyanese to support him. To counter the race
politics instigated by the political elites, Rodney called for an inclusive nationalism, one that
would include the two largest racial groups (Dupuy 1996; In the Sky’s Wild Noise film 1983).
His proposed alliance between the races threatened the political elites because they knew
their power, based on race, would be lost if voters united along class lines. Although it is
contested, it is widely believed that Burnham’s fear of Rodney’s political opposition resulted
in the latter’s murder in 1980 (ibid).
107 WPA is no longer an active political party but some of its high-profile members are still active in society (I
will not name them).
89
The killing of Rodney frustrated citizens. Western nations ostracized Guyana because
of its rampant murders, kidnapping, corruption, and serious financial problems. State-
sanctioned violence escalated against the citizenry. Clientelistic and extra-judicial killings
alienated American support: in 1982, USAID cancelled a $15 million loan and the
ambassador was recalled (Majeed 2005, 25). Years of mismanagement and an atrocious
human rights record led to massive emigration of skilled human resources (Singh 1996, 129).
In 1985, change came under a new government. Burnham died in office and his Vice
President Desmond Hoyte took over. As a result of the financial crisis, Hoyte’s government
adopted SAPs which moved the country towards liberalization of the markets (Mars 1995,
175). This policy change also meant increased support for small business (Kissoon Interview,
7 May 2010). However, this focus on micro and small business development was short-lived
because when Cheddi Jagan’s PPP re-assumed power in 1999, his policies reverted support
to large businesses. A policy move that favoured Indo-Guyanese (Anonymous Interview, 6
May 2010).
Indo-Guyanese Political Domination (1992 to present)
After more than two decades of Burnham’s preferential treatment for Afros, the
Indian-led PPP came to power in 1992. Guyanese scholars (e.g., Kissoon 2010; Gibson 2006;
Trotz 2004; St. Pierre 1999; Hintzen 1989; Thomas 1988; Kemp 1985; Rodney 1981; Daly
1974) document the use of race by both Afro Burnham and Indo Jagan to control people.108
As in the 1960s, Cheddi Jagan diverted resources to rural Indian communities by shifting the
108 Mars (1995, 171) says that the state places a high premium on ethnic partisanship. I observed that the
political environment is controlled by Indian elites, both Hindus and Muslims (Fieldwork, May 2010).
90
allocation of benefits such as housing, loans, and employment from the Afros to the Indos
(Scott 2007, 40). Jagan not only continued such race-based patronage, but intensified Indian
political extremism (Fieldwork 2010; Greenidge 2001). In 1997, Jagan’s American-born
Jewish wife, Janet Jagan, took office after her husband’s death and intensified the racialized
system favouring Indians (Currie Interview, 3 May 2010). Caribbean scholar Percy Hintzen
(1989, 105) has found that “clientelism is expected to play a significant role in elite support
particularly under conditions where regime politics and programs have had a negative
consequence for major segments of the population.” In this way, the Jagan’s continued to
practice patronage to secure their power.
For twenty years, PPP administrations (those of Cheddi Jagan [1992 to 1997], Janet
Jagan [1997 to 1999], Bharrat Jagdeo [1999 to 2011] allocated resources in a racially biased
way to the Indo-Guyanese. In December 2011, another Indo-Guyanese of the PPP, Donald
Ramotar, was elected and he appears to continue the race-based politics. In 2006, Bharrat
Jagdeo, a protégé of Cheddi Jagan and a Russian-trained economist, won 55% of the votes
(Guyana’s Election Commission results 2006). Guyanese scholar Michael Scott (2007, 69)
argues that Guyana’s democracy is one based on racial interests—or on what he calls
“communal democracy”—where people are organized along ethno-political lines. Since
independence, Guyanese voters mobilized along ethnic, religious, and class identities (Garner
2008, 37; Horowitz 1985).109
109 Horowitz (1985) argues that most states are divided by identity, and he cites Guyana and Trinidad’s political
parties that use race/ethnicity to mobilize votes.
91
Former President Jagdeo’s funding support went to cooperatives engaged in rice,
fisheries, and sugar, in which the bulk of the Indians work and support the PPP (Burrowes
1984, 211). More recently, the PPP allocated development projects to Amerindians in the
interior to develop a voting base. Like the other PPP administrations, the Jagdeo’s regime
ignored the slums and towns, where most Afro-Guyanese live (Interviews, April 2010,
Names and exact dates withheld on purpose). In this context, Afro-Guyanese are siphoned
off from economic resources and this is why they understandably define politics as the unfair
distribution of goods (Interviews, May 2010).
From 1999 to 2011, the Jagdeo-led government turned down development projects
when funds did not go to the Indians or to the Amerindians, the government’s two political
support base.110
An example of ethnic patronage was the government’s rejection of a
European Union-funded enterprise project for Black youth in depressed urban areas (Alonzo
Beaton Interview, 30 April 2010; Currie Interview, 3 May 2010). Williams, Cummings and
Marshall (2007, 101, 110) have also reported that the Indian state allocates development
projects to areas according to racial category, and that Black people, dougla, and mixed-
raced people continue to live in the slums in intolerable conditions—with only shared
sanitary facilities and no indoor plumbing. At the time of my field work (2010), it was
reported that no substantial development projects went to Afro-dominated slums, except for a
small sum of GYD$15 million (USD$75,000): however, these funds, disguised as money for
community development actually carry out political activities, such as spying and interfering
110 Dawn Holder, an Afro-Guyanese lawyer, stated that Indian regions are favoured by economic inputs from
the PPP state that perpetuates exclusion of Afros (Spotlight television show, 22 April 2010).
92
with local businesses, in order to control local opposition (Interviews cannot be named;
Canadian High Commission, Interview 18 November 2008).
Race politics is polarizing in Guyana by the fact that Indian political leaders control
the cultural narrative, which praises Indians for their hard work and self-sacrifice and
denigrates Blacks (Benschop Interview, 7 May 2010; Bristol Interview, 4 May 2010; Pearson
Interview, 3 May 2010; Gibson 2006,
376).111
Thus, politicians since
independence have used race as the criteria
to award their own racial group/ party
followers with money, housing, and jobs to
the exclusion of others (Gibson 2005).
Within this racialized context, no sense of a
shared national identity truly exists. The
country’s motto—“One people, one nation,
one destiny” (Figure 2.1)—seems a hoax. Negative comments and stereotypes are pervasive
in Guyanese society. The view of Afros as bad and Indians as good is embraced by an Indo-
centric state. Indians interviewed remarked that “Indians tie di belly. Not every ting dis eye
see it want” (in this case, ascribing the virtue of self-sacrifice to Indians). It is widely
111 Gibson (2006, 376) notes that Africans are labelled as bad, with names such as “criminals” and “rapists” to
define them; whereas East Indians (specifically Hindus) are defined as good.
Figure 2.1: A state banner depicting the motto “One
People, One Nation, One Destiny” shows children from
each of the country’s six races.
93
believed that under Burnham’s regime, Afro-Guyanese benefited from subsidies; yet in truth,
Afros and Indo alike were alienated within Burnham’s corrupt regime (Kissoon 2010a; b).112
The allocation of public goods based on race by the Indo-led regime is obvious.
Under Jagdeo’s regime (1999-2011) the state allegedly had links to the narcotics trade, extra-
judicial killings, and grave human rights abuses such as death squads killing Afros (Amnesty
Report 2010; Gibson 2006, 375; Gibson 2005, 41; Majeed 2005, 97). Local dissenters were
few, and those critics who dared publish stories against the state and the president was
subject to violence and humiliation (University of Guyana, Interviews April and May 2010;
Anonymous Interview, date withheld on purpose).113
Citizens were aware of the potential
consequences of criticizing the state. In my fieldwork, I found that ordinary citizens and civil
servants were reluctant to participate in this project or to go on record. A former minister of
the Jagdeo government confirmed that technocrats fear the consequences of speaking
publicly, and government officials reported that they are micro-managed by the president
(Anonymous Interviews, Names withheld on purpose).
The Afro-Guyanese people claim that the state subdues agitation by using token
Afros to suppress them. For example, at the time of this fieldwork, the Indian-run state under
Jagdeo had set up an Empowerment Office led by the president’s advisor, Odinga Lumumba,
112 Kissoon argues in his column “Arrival and enigma: Fascism and the Guyanese East Indian mind” in the
Kaieteur News (5 May 2010) that African Guyanese are negatively stereotyped and addresses the
unsubstantiated notions that East Indians are entreprneurial. See more at:
http://www.kaieteurnewsonline.com/category/features-columnists/freddie-kissoon/ 113
An academic and journalist had excrement thrown in his face allegedly for his criticisms of the president.
See Stabroek News for information on this incident:
http://www.stabroeknews.com/2010/news/stories/05/25/columnist-hit-with-bowl-of-faeces/ Because of such
incidents, I was diligence to protect sources, because the state’s retribution tactics are well known locally.
94
an Afro-Guyanese from Buxton who supports the Indian administration, to deal with
complaints of inequality.114
Managing the Afro-Guyanese with leaders of their own ethnic
group ensures that they will remain quiescent. According to Lumumba, the Empowerment
Office was set up to address people’s grievances about wrongdoings by the state
(Empowerment Office Interview, 22 April 2010). But citizens have claimed that this office is
a sham: University of Guyana (UG) academics (who cannot be named) state that the
Empowerment Office is the perpetuator of state violence against any Black opposition
(Interviews, Names and exact dates withheld on purpose).
Despite serious human rights allegations against the Jagdeo regime—including state-
sponsored death squads (Amnesty Report 2010; Gibson 2006, 375; Majeed 2005, 97)—
Former president Jagdeo was awarded the UN’s Champion of the Earth prize for his
leadership in environment in 2010 (Stabroek News 2010). Critics (who cannot be named)
argue that the international community is mute on human rights abuses and narcotics-
trafficking under this regime (Kissoon 2010b; Gibson 2005, 41; Majeed 2005, 97).115
Like
Burnham’s politics of the past, the PPP politics is very much rooted in the distribution of
rewards based on race, with Indian political elites reportedly benefitting from kick-backs
through contracts (Gibson 2006, 374).
114 Within the Afro-Guyanese community, Odinga Lumumba is viewed as an opportunist—first a member of
the PNC party member, then the PPP to advance the racial agenda (Interviews in April 2010, dates and people
cannot be named). 115
In a lecture, Kissoon argued that under the Jagdeo regime is a criminalized bourgeoisie, engaged in illegal
activities to accumulate wealth, and that Afro-Guyanese are being replaced by Indians in every aspect of public
life.
95
Clearly, then, since Guyana’s independence, various leaders have used race to
consolidate political power (Ramharack 2005). The PPP leaders make resources available to
allies and exclude outsiders who do not belong to the ruling ethnic group for their own
political aspirations. An Indo-led regime has no interest in working in slums filled with
opposition party people (Field work 2010; 2008; Thomas Discussions, 23 April 2010). This
biased allocation of state resources leaves one of the nation’s poorest people, the Afro-
Guyanese, unable to access vital economic resources. In this hostile and racialized context,
the dominance of Indo-Guyanese in politics and banking has reduced or blocked access for
Afro-Guyanese. Micro banks (most of which are run by Indos) are limited in their reach to
Afro-Guyanese, and loan sizes to this ethnic group are significantly smaller. Because
microfinance programs are controlled mainly by Indo-Guyanese, who are viewed as
oppressors conspiring with an Indo-centric state, they are unlikely to be regarded as
empowerment tools by their Afro-Guyanese users. The new president Donald Ramotar
(December 2011-present) showed signs of continuing racial privilege to Indos (Confidential
emails from University of Guyana 26 January 2012; Facebook 2012; Kaieteur News 27
January 2012).
Haiti’s Predatory Politics
In 1804, Haiti’s slaves fought for and won the right to govern themselves as the first
free Black republic (Smartt-Bell 2007, 3). Trouillet (1995, 89) argues that at that time a
Black state was largely unthinkable because it challenged the global order of commerce,
slavery, and colonialism. Hence, Haiti’s achievement of independence resulted in Haiti’s
isolation for nearly a century, as it was widely believed that freed Blacks would undermine
the lucrative slave trade and viability of plantations dependent on free slave labour.
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In the centuries following independence, the country’s politics have been oppressive.
Leaders since Jean-Jacques Dessalines (1804-1806) have adhered to politiques du ventre
(politics of the belly) dictatorships, leaving the masses in complete suffering (Szeftel 2000).
Haiti is one of the world’s poorest countries and its people are trapped in extreme poverty
(GOH 2010; Fatton 2006, 17; McCoy 1997, 1–5).116
At least 77% of the 10.12 million
people live on less than USD $2 a day (World Bank 2011; GOH 2010, 2; CDB 2010, 45;
Dupuy 2010; FAO 2008). Hallward (2010, 1) emphasizes the point that a mere one percent
of the people own the country’s wealth. Haiti is a place not only blighted by natural disasters,
but where racial and class politics complicate relations between the various groups: Blancs,
mulatres (mixed-race), elites noirs (educated Blacks), and moun andeyo (poor masses).
Haiti’s history—from revolution to independence in 1804, to American occupation
(1915-1934), to the post-Duvalier era 1986—reflects the unstable and predatory nature of
Haitian politics (Fatton 2007, 2–6; 2002, 137; Maguire 1997, 156). The country has had at
least 45 heads of state and about 20 constitutions since independence, and powers have
shifted between educated noirs and whitened elites (Paquin and Brax 2006, 143; Heinl and
Heinl 2005, 119–301). Coups d’états, military dictatorships, and terror under the violent
regimes of François “Papa Doc” (1957-1971) and Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier (1971-
1986), Raoul Cédras (1991-1994) and Jean-Bertrand Aristide (second presidency 2001-2004)
have negatively affected Haiti’s economic development. Haiti’s series of unstable political
regimes and coups stand in stark contrast to Jamaica and Guyana’s electoral democracies.
116 Fatton (2002) uses the term politiques du ventre (politics of the belly) to characterize corruption in Haitian
politics.
97
Port-au-Prince is composed of two extreme worlds: one rich and one very poor
(N’Zengou-Tayo 1998, 118; Rotberg 1997, 137; Stotzky 1997, 20–22). It is a country
divided by class and race, where the tiny minority that control the country’s riches, mostly
blancs and mulatres as well as elites noirs, live in secluded villas in Pétion-Ville, Montagne
Noire, Bel Vil, and Peguy Ville. Dupuy (2007, 25–26) argued that the Haitian bourgeoisie
(elites) were split into two dominant groups: blancs, mulatres who controlled the private
sector, and the elites noirs who dominated the state. Scholarship on Haiti (e.g., Fatton 2007;
2006; 2002; Rotberg 1997; Farmer 1994; James 1989) has compared the country’s socio-
economic situation to a form of apartheid, where the Kreyol-speaking moun andeyo are
marginalized by the bourgeoisie. Yet these two social groups are very much intertwined.
With such economic divides of extreme wealth and dire poverty, local community
organizations such as Fonkoze have called for economic democracy (to assist people to
improve their economic situations) for the poor.
The blancs and mulatres see the bidonvilles (shanty towns) of “Jalousie” and “Flipo”
in the hilltops as constant reminders of the grinding poverty of the excluded moun andeyo.
On January 12, 2010, at 4:53 PM, a magnitude 7.0 earthquake hit the southern part of Haiti,
killing about 300,000 people and leaving 1.5 million displaced and living in “tent cities”
(Chauvet 2010, 3). Since the January 2010 earthquake, tent cities have dominated the chic
town squares like Place Saint Pierre and Place Boyer, and these homeless citizens are
constant reminders of despair in the country (Field trip, October 2011; Castor 2010, 22;
Chauvet 2010, 5-10). Meanwhile, the moun andeyo can view the wealthy mansions of the
elites in the city below. In post-earthquake Haiti, no enclave is free from poverty, as the
reconstruction is slow to respond to the housing needs of hundreds of thousands of people.
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No matter the conditions the Haitian people are resilient. Haitians are descendants of
Beninese (then Dahomey) slaves, who brought West African informal banking concepts to
the Americas and relied on these systems during times of austerity (Fatton 2007). These
gwoupmans (community groups) tapped into an African heritage of working together called
kombit in Kreyol (Fatton 2002, 52). Fatton (2007, 221) finds that the heritage of gwoupmans
organized by the poor under repressive political regimes persisted. For example, immediately
after the American withdrawal starting in 1934, the first official cooperative was organized
(Montasse 1983) because the financial times were so hard for the people. In the absence of
any state to meet peoples’ needs, the poor organized among themselves. These cooperative
groups were fashioned after the sol, a local savings program brought over from Africa (Heinl
and Heinl 2005; Reinert and Voss 1997).117
In Jacmel in 1946, under the pro-Black
(Noiriste) Estime government, the first formalized financial cooperative, called a caisses
populaires, was started on the island (Montasse 1983, 18).
The Rise of Noiriste Politics
In its period of diplomatic isolation of twenty-one years (1804 to 1825), Haiti was
subject to aggression from Germany. During this time, no other state assisted Haiti (Fatton
2007, 138–139). This policy of isolation ended in 1825 when France forced Haitian officials
to take out a loan (equal to US$21 billion today) from a French bank to compensate the
French for property losses, including loss of slaves. In the early 1900s, U.S. President
Woodrow Wilson, having imperial designs on the country, evoked the Monroe Doctrine and
deployed American marines to Haiti, where they remained for twenty years (1915-1934)
117 Informal banks are referred to as Rotating and Credit Savings Associations (ROSCAs), see chapter 1.
99
(Girard 2010; Paquin and Brax 2006, 176; Farmer 1994, 18).118
American hand-picked
mulatres—Dartiguenave, Borno, and Vincent—governed while the U.S. occupied the country
(Fatton 2007, 147–149). After the occupation, a succession of Black leaders—such as Estime
(1946–1950) and Magloire (1950–1956)—were elected. President Estime ran on a “Noiriste”
(pro-Black) platform as a critic of American imperialism, and used the communist threat to
access American aid; yet he did not improve the economic situation for Haitians (Girard
2010, 8).
From 1957 to 1986, the Noiriste power of the Duvaliers, father and son, ruled Haiti
with extreme violence (Girard 2010, 110; Heinl and Heinl 2005, 539–624; Saint-Gérard
2004, 1997; Farmer 1994, 102).119
In 1957, François “Papa Doc” Duvalier outlawed civil
society groups and associations; used his personal armed gangs, the Tontons Macoutes, to
brutalize the opposition; and controlled foreign aid for his own personal use (Marquis 2007,
157).120
His son, Jean-Claude “Bébé Doc” Duvalier, continued his father’s politics until his
overthrow in 1986 (Farmer 1994, 19–21). Under this violent dictatorship, people organized
locally and depended on cooperatives outside of the state purview to meet their basic needs.
The collapse in food production and increasing dependency on American imports
resulted in the exodus of the poor from rural areas to Port-au-Prince, which currently holds
about three million people (Dupuy 2010, 196). Both Duvaliers alienated the moun andeyo
and left them to the benevolence of international NGOs (Mangones Interview, 11 October
118 See Girard’s (2010) historical review of American presence in the island since 1986.
119 Girard (2010, 109–111) argues that the Black power ideas promulgated under both Duvaliers were a “sham”
because both father and son married mulatto women. 120
Graham Greene’s (1965) The Comedians is an account of the regime’s violence under Papa Doc.
100
2010; Dupuy 2010). Migrants moved to the sprawling bidonvilles, such as La Salines,
Carrefour, and Cite Soleil, and survived by means of très petit entreprises (very small
enterprises) strategies that generated only very low incomes (Calixte Interview in Pétion
Ville, 6 October 2010; Acacia 2006, 61).
In the early 1950s, Jean-Bertrand Aristide—a Catholic priest inspired by liberation
theology who came originally from the outskirts of Port Salut (in the southern part of the
country)—relocated to the slums with his mother (a micro entrepreneur, ti machanns) and
thus became aware of the economic injustice against the moun andeyo (Girard 2010, 117;
Robinson 2007, 28). In the early years, Aristide’s use of liberation theology embraced social
justice and economic empowerment as part of the response to building a strong civil society
(Dupuy 2007, 1; Heinl and Heinl 2005; Rotberg 1997). According to Fatton (2007, 197),
Aristide attempted to end the class divide and preached tout moun se moun (all human beings
are human beings). At his church, St. Jean Bosco, in the slum of Bel Air, Aristide started the
Ti legliz (Kreyol for “Little Church”) movement, where he rallied the urban poor against the
anti-democratic dictatorships of Jean-Claude Duvalier (1971 to 1986) and General Henri
Namphy (1986 to 1988) (Girard 2010, 117–122; Hallward 2010, 139; Robinson 2007, 29;
The Agronomist film 2003). President Henri Namphy (1986–1988) was aware that the
Aristide supporters were mounting a formidable opposition against his corrupt and elitist
regime, and in 1988 his soldiers led the St. Jean Bosco massacre against them, killing at least
thirteen parishioners (Girard 2010, 117).
101
Aristide’s popularity grew among the moun andeyo and marginalized urban residents,
as well as among activists such as the agronomist, the late Jean-Dominique.121
Aristide’s Ti
legliz developed into a political movement with a strong party base in the bidonvilles. In the
1990 election, Aristide’s Front National pour le Changement et la Démocratie (later to
become the Organisation Politique Lavalas [OPL]) was the first democratically elected party
to take power in Haiti (Fatton 2006, 19; Robinson 2007; 31). On assuming power in 1991,
Aristide’s civilian government brought charges against the Tontons Macoutes and
investigated the bank accounts of certain members of the elite. Aristide’s reforms were met
with opposition from the military and business elites, and in Port-au-Prince, business elites
still blame Aristide for the economic condition of Haiti in 2011 (Fieldwork, August to
October 2011).
Haitians once again were under unstable and oppressive political regimes. After only
eight months in office, Raoul Cédras, a light-skinned commander, overthrew Aristide and
forced him into exile in the United States. American support under President Bill Clinton
assisted Aristide’s return to power in 1994, and his economic reforms conformed to
American neoliberal policy preferences. Aristide carried out market reforms in the financial
sector in exchange for foreign aid (Heinl and Heinl 2005, 719). He also lifted the interest rate
ceiling (which was 22% per annum) on loans. His liberalization of the economy was awarded
with a generous foreign aid package from USAID (UNCDF 2003, 151).122
With liberalized
121 Girard (2010, 185) notes that Dominique was killed 3 April 2000. The Demme film, The Agronomist (2003),
suggests that Dominique’s murder was political because he criticized Aristide’s changed politics. 122
USAID has had, since 1995, a pro-market agenda to liberalize the economy, specifically the USAID project
Program for the Recovery of the Economy in Transition (PRET). From 2000–2005, USAID financed the project
Financial Services Network for Entrepreneurship Empowerment (FINNET), which had a budget of 10.3 million
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markets and increased interest rates, at least three commercial banks started down-scaling
and forming micro lending offices.
American policy prioritized a more liberalized economy. The removal of high interest
rates was meant to revitalize trade and increase access to credit. This increased access to
financing for the masses would open up trade and business, in the grasp of a few big families.
However, these reforms were resisted by the local business elite, who benefited from high
interest rates and felt threatened by these new pro-poor policies. Local business elites
suspected that Aristide’s economic reforms were hiding his redistributive “socialist agenda”
to force the rich to pay taxes (Dupuy 2007, 113–120; Farmer 1994, 25). It is said that to the
Americans, Aristide appeared to be with them; yet he also connected to the Bel Air residents
with his anti-foreign and anti-bourgeoisie speeches (Field work 2010; Dupuy 2007).
Since Aristide was constitutionally prohibited from three consecutive terms as
president, his comrade and OPL-ally René Préval was elected in 1996. Once in office
Aristide and Préval’s relationship deteriorated over Aristide’s opposition to a number of
proposed market reforms (Dupuy 2007, 200). Aristide broke away from OPL and created his
political party Fanmi Lavalas (Family of the Flash Flood) to compete against the OPL. In the
2000 election, Aristide won and immediately disbanded the army and police controlled by
business elites (who were against his win). In their place, he set up a secret paramilitary force
U.S. dollars managed by the private, for-profit sub-contractor Development Alternatives Inc. (DAI), which
currently manages enterprise projects (MSME and HI FIVE) for USAID.
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called the Chimères (reference to gangs hired by political leaders)123
made up of young
unemployed loyalists in pro-Aristide bidonvilles such as Bel Air and Cité Soleil (Girard
2010, 192; Fatton 2007, 212; 2006, 21; Dupuy 2007, 21; Les Chimères de Cité Soleil 2007;
Human Rights Watch 2004). Just as the Duvaliers created the Tontons Macoutes (state-
sponsored gangs) to secure power, Aristide also armed male youths to carry out informal
police services (Fatton 2007, 108–109; Dupuy 2007, 146; Les Chimères de Cité Soleil,
2007).124
Widespread kidnappings, extra-judicial killings, and corruption characterized
governance under the second Aristide state (2000-2004) (Fatton 2007, 210–212; Human
Rights Watch 2004; The Agronomist 2003), as well as in the Préval administration (2006-
2011). In 2004, the U.S. George W. Bush administration wanted Aristide’s resignation and
assisted in his controversial exile to South Africa (Fatton 2007, 206; Robinson 2007, 215).
The external interference led by the Americans to oust Aristide remains controversial.125
After the term of the U.S.-appointed interim leader, Miami-based Gerard Latortue, ended,
Préval was elected in 2006. This period of political instability incited warring gangs, and
many splintered off into factions called “cells,” where they compete and fight each other over
turf and power (Girard 2010, 213).126
Haiti is a dangerous place to live and work, and many
123 Chimères is a French word meaning phantom or ghost.
124 Hallward (2010, 161) is skeptical about the accusations that Aristide created a violent para-military force.
125 Robinson (2007) argues that Aristide was kidnapped and forced into exile by U.S. President George W.
Bush. However, Haitian scholar Fatton (2007, 206) argues that Aristide’s re-election (2000) was different, as he
clamped down on opposition and his government was corrupt. See also Haitian scholar Alex Dupuy’s work on
the Aristide’s regime in The Prophet and Power.
126 Gangs have transitioned into various roles: some are paid assassins, others are linked to the narcotics
business, and others extort money from businessmen like Bolus to act as security for their properties. A few
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people go missing and/or are assassinated for reporting malpractices of the state and its
international partners or trying to upset the status quo (Fieldwork, August to October 2011;
Anonymous Interviews, October 2010).
Political Chaos and Instability
Haitian class conflicts are highly racialized. The political system marginalizes Blacks,
and pacts of convenience between the mulatres and élite noirs continued under the Préval’s
regime (2006-2011) (Dupuy 2007; Fatton 2007; Maguire 2006; Shamsie 2006). In April
2008, protests against the raising of food prices led to food riots in Pétion-Ville and Centre-
Ville because many of the poor had resorted to eating mud pies (Field work 2008). An
intense racial class war exists in the country. During the riots, GaMa Technologies was
destroyed, and its owner, a successful (dark-skinned) Haitian, Mathias Pierre, of humble
origins, was victim to vandalism and looting because the masses could not fathom that such a
Black Haitian could be a rich businessman (Field work 2011; Pierre 2011).127
Chaos and Instability in the Post-earthquake Period
Fraudulent elections, riots, and tire burning were commonplace, and frustrations
because of the slow rebuilding process were unleashed against the U.N. and international
organizations. Haitian-Canadian academic Franklin Midy (2010, 25–29; Key note address at
gang retirees have also formed groupuscules (cliques) where they carry out local projects funded by
international NGOs. Viva Rios, a Brazilian NGO, has a former tet du pon (gang boss) managing its project
“Honor and Respect for Bel Air” (Interview at INURED, 5 October 2010). 127
There is a growing Black business class that is different from the traditional set but little is known about
them. See more on the webite of the Digicel’s annual entrepreneur awards at
http://www.digicelhaitientrepreneur.com (accessed 17 September 2012).
105
Congress meeting, Concordia University June 2010) argued that the Haitian state’s neglect of
a development plan would antagonize the masses and result in civil unrest. Haitians are upset
with the crimes allegedly perpetrated by the Mission des Nations Unies pour la Stabilisation
en Haiti’s (MINUSTAH, UN military force), whose troops allegedly emptied waste into local
rivers, exposing the incompetence of Préval’s regime in managing reconstruction. In 2011,
MINUSTAH forces in the south of the country were accused of the rape of women and
underage boys (Amnesty Haiti Annual Report: 2012; Harvard School of Public Health 2011).
During the 2010 election, Préval’s government (2006-2011) backed Jude Célestin,
Inité candidate (Préval’s son-in-law) who won in the second round of votes. However, the
people protested the fraudulent ballot-stuffing, burning tires in the streets, and Célestin
eventually withdrew his candidacy. In January 2011, ousted dictator Jean-Claude Duvalier
returned to the country for unclear reasons, and was arrested on arrival then released
(Amnesty Annual Report 2012). A couple of months later, former president Bertrand Aristide
returned to his luxurious Tabarre residence near the U.S. embassy (ibid; Field Work 2011).
Finally, in April 2011, former musician Michel “Sweet Micky” Martelly (former kompa
musician) was elected president in the final run-off vote. After many delays, Dr. Gary
Conille, long term U.N. staff person and former aide to former U.S. President Clinton, was
confirmed prime minister in October 2011. Only four months in office, Conille resigned and
Laurent Lamothe was confirmed as prime minister on 16 May 2012.
Haitian activists claim that international organizations are hiding in Pétion-Ville and
Peguy Ville, away from the poor in the downtown core (Interviews, Robert Pressoir and staff
persons of Remember the Children, Delmas 3, 3 October 2010). Haitians complain that the
106
state and the international community are misusing resources—or, as Haitians say, “Ils font
leur beurre” (Whites are making money from the foreign aid business) (Castor Interview, 11
October 2010; St.Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010; Pressoir Interview, 3 October 2010. Bill
Clinton heads up the Interim Haiti Recovery Commission (IHRC) and American
involvement is strong in the reconstruction process (Fieldwork, August–October 2011).
However, aid organizations such as USAID have developed a reputation among Haitians as
fostering clientelism in their funding of problematic institutions (Three anonymous
interviews, 2 and 5 October 2010).
Oppressive Elite Politics
Political control throughout the country’s history has continuously switched back and
forth between elites noirs (educated Blacks) and wealthy blancs and mulatres, each engaged
in protecting their own interests (Fatton 2002, 13;2007, 110). Elites noirs like Faustin
Soulouque, François Duvalier, Jean-Claude Duvalier, and Jean-Bertrand Aristide all used an
adapted version of Noiriste politics to justify their power, claiming that they had the right to
rule because they were dark-skinned Blacks and that they would rule in favour of Blacks. But
they all ended up applying brutality through informal armies directed against the poor
(Rotberg 1997, 139). Hence, because these elites used the state resources to enrich
themselves, their Black liberation discourses no longer resonated with the masses (Castor
2006).
Haiti’s early, inspiring revolution has thus led to a vicious downward spiral of cruel
dictatorships and personalist politics. Local elites have carried out continual repression of
moun andeyo for their own political ambitions. In these limited political spaces, moun
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andeyo have resisted and formed social support groups, such as cooperatives, where the poor
come together and pool resources and lend support to one another. Haiti’s motto, L’union fait
la Force (Unity is Strength), reflects Haitian’s awareness that they can achieve change
through collaboration. Despite their neglect by the state, marginalized groups have exhibited
democratic traditions by organizing in their own communities.
Two centuries of political neglect of the poor’s needs for basic welfare services has
thus contributed to the rich development of cooperative and collective groups. Since 1937,
Haitians have been organizing local monies, creating vibrant cooperatives to meet their
collective interests. Haitians excluded from conventional banks organized these cooperative
groups—Caisses populaires and cooperatives inspired by African concepts of kombit—long
before the concept of microfinance was fashionable. By the time donor-funded micro loan
projects came to Haiti in the 1990s, Haitians were already familiar with micro lending. The
persons running micro loan programs understand the realities of the clients’ they serve—to
the benefit of Haiti’s poor. As we will see, even foreign-run microfinance retailers have
adapted programs around local systems (Soman et al. 2012, 50). These deliberate efforts to
hire local people from the same background as their clients have managed to mitigate the
most harmful consequences of a class/race-based system of political power that has socially
and economically excluded the masses. Moreover, these efforts have led to inclusive micro
lending that fits readily with the local culture.
Conclusion
Caribbean political history reveals that the slavery and colonization produced a
colour-coded hierarchy based on race and class. Plantation economics divided people by race
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and favoured offspring of the white planters, who are today’s political and business elites. An
independence era that promised to restore humanity to the local people replicated the racial
and class biases of the colonial times. Mixed-race persons (usually light-skinned) have
inherited power and status from their forefathers, and educated Blacks have tested the system
to some extent, but many have conformed to it. Slave and colonial legacies have ordered
identities in modern day Caribbean society.
Jamaica’s legacy of democratic tradition, relatively strong trade unions, private
property laws, and cooperative traditions would seem to be conducive to economic
development. Moreover, Jamaica’s motto “Out of many, one people” signals a strong sense
of national identity (Thomas 2004, 90). However, Jamaican society is deeply divided along
class lines and to some extent by colour too. Class politics among Afro-Jamaicans continues
to unashamedly play out in modern day politics. Years of Big Men, usually brownings using
power to control poor blacks in the ghettos has resulted in the breakdown of trust (Fieldwork
2009). Jamaica’s class-based clientelistic politics has left hustlas downtown unsure about
credit programs. Hustlas view the privileged brownings running micro economic
development programs in the slums with suspicion.
Guyana’s colonial masters divided the two dominant racial groups, Indians and
Blacks, for their own profit motives. At independence, creole elites replicated the system of
the British colonizers and organized ethnic political parties. Afro Forbes Burnham privileged
Afro-Guyanese with cash and jobs, and Indo Cheddi Jagan’s rule favoured rural East Indians
with land. In 1992, Jagan’s return brought back large Indian investors from the diaspora
109
(Kaeietur New 11 December 2011). For the past 20 years and counting, the pendulum has
swung in favour of Indo-Guyanese to the detriment of Black slum dwellers.
Former President Jagdeo’s Indo-centric regime—having a questionable human rights
record and alleged links to criminal drug lords—has limited social development (Amnesty
Report 2010). Cultural narratives degrade Afro-Guyanese because under the Indian-run
political environment such views are deemed acceptable. Indian-dominated politics and
banking leaves micro lenders in a questionable position. Micro lenders accept the principles
of helping the poor access finance; yet they are constrained from doing so in a fair manner
because of the racialized political environment. Understandably, Afro-Guyanese, who have
come to expect race discrimination, do not trust Indo-Guyanese micro bankers.
Haiti’s race and class politics operate within an undemocratic and weak state with
interference from American aid and political leaders, particularly since the reconstruction
process in 2010. Haiti represents a departure from the other two cases when it comes to
organizing from below.128
Since Haiti’s impressive revolution in 1804, the state has
continually engaged in violence against its population. Predatory elites and external forces
have colluded and applied brutal actions against the moun andeyo, which has resulted in
underdevelopment. Having experienced years of oppressive regimes, the moun andeyo have
had to turn inwards to develop their own self-help groups outside of the hostile state. An
authoritarian political history would not seem to augur well for a vibrant microfinance sector;
yet, Haitians have managed to sustain cooperative movements under harsh political
128 Haiti would fit Milliken and Krause’s description of a weak state (2002).
110
environments. The microfinance leaders I met with acknowledge the corrupt and
exclusionary nature of political and business elites and have framed micro lending in such a
way as to protect it from exclusionary tendencies of Haiti’s politics.
All three distinct contexts have a history of racial intermingling and the offspring of
these relations have created complex race relations. These societies are classed and racially
tiered, with the minority beneficiaries of the planters carving out power for themselves while
the masses remain in lower positions. As in the past, today’s allocation of financial resources
rests with the whitened elites, and the poor (dark-skinned) Afro-Caribbean masses are the
recipients of these hand-outs. As we shall see in chapters three and four, micro-lenders in
these latter countries—educated Afro-Jamaicans (and many brownings) and Indo-Guyanese
men—are detached from the people they are expected to work with. Microfinance in some
contexts hold the potential to alleviate poverty and inequality, as in the case of Haiti, but the
other two cases of Jamaica and Guyana show that racial and class biases can corrupt the
allocation of micro and small loans.
The political histories of Jamaica and Guyana suggest that elites have a political
agenda when they confer monies on the urban poor. In these contexts, the skepticism
concerning the empowerment of today’s micro lending is understandable. Guyanese and
Jamaican citizens who live in the slums do not trust micro banking and its people. The
political histories of both Anglophone cases in this study explain the divisive racial and class
politics that have led to distrust and the malfunctioning microfinance programs that exist in
both countries. Yet Haiti’s political legacy of authoritarianism and its economic apartheid
have inspired excluded people to organize on their own. This inner strength to organize into
111
groups without any support has influenced lenders to regard microfinance as a political tool
for the poor to counteract the economic and political exclusions in the society. This use of
microfinance has been possible because its staff persons share the same class origin of the
people they serve. These staff persons also understand first-hand the social conflicts and
political history and they have set up financial systems for the poor using local knowledge
systems that are beyond the reach of elites.
112
Chapter 3 The Jamaica Case: Exclusionary Micro Lending in the Slums
It takes a revolution to make a solution.
Never make a politician grant you a favour
They will always want to control you forever.
So if a fire make it bu’n
And if a blood make it run.
Rasta there on top, can’t you see.
Bob Marley, “Revolution,” Natty Dread Album129
Introduction
Reggae star Bob Marley’s song “Revolution” (quoted above) refers to the
consequence of political handouts: that is, political control of the urban poor. As stated in
chapter 1, the Jamaican case challenges the assumption that microfinance is free from
partisan or class-based politics. Some microfinance lenders, including informal ones, exclude
eligible poor business people because of partisan and social class/racial bias. Embedded
clientelist practices in micro lending programs inhibit any potential social empowerment
could provide.130
This case shows that the dispensing of micro loans fails to garner the trust
of poor clients.
Jamaica’s economy was hit hard by the U.S. recession of 2009. Reduced tourism and
remittance payments resulted in a decline in the country’s two major foreign exchange
earnings.131
Unemployment in Jamaica is very high, evidenced in the riots protesting the
129 Carol Cooper’s (1993, 120) use of the Bob Marley song emphasizes the concern with clientelistic practices
that politicians have over the poor. 130
All of the mainstream Jamaican microfinance lenders I met with subscribe to the financial and social
empowerment aspects of microfinance. 131
In the ESSJ (2007) there was a decline in remittances in 2006 for the 26% of the population that receive
remittances from family overseas (ESSJ 2007, chapter 2).
113
extradition of drug-lord Dudus to the U.S. At the time of my fieldwork, the Golding-led
administration directed millions of Jamaican dollars towards micro-enterprise development
to alleviate poverty.132
In December 2011, however, the People’s National Party (PNP) led
by Portia Simpson-Miller won the election, and it is currently unclear whether policies
supporting micro and small entrepreneurs will continue. While lenders who access these
subsidies are supposed to lend to poor entrepreneurs (IDB 2002; McFarlane 1997),133
the
funds do not reach them. Few policy makers at Jamaica House (National State Offices) are
aware that micro business people are not able to access micro loans—even from
microfinance retailers (lenders).134
And policy responses that do address this failure do not
consider that personal prejudices in the allocation of micro-credit may account for it.
Micro banking is designed to create access to finance for excluded borrowers, those
who are labelled “unbankable.” The promise of micro-credit was to achieve a double bottom
line: first, the financial sustainability of the lending institution itself, and second, the social
benefit of providing loans to poor business people. Because the latter is missing in
commercial banks, MFIs have tried to resolve this issue through micro-credit. But in some
parts of the world, managers have lost sight of the double mission—in particular, to socially
empower the poor. Managers and staff, as in the Jamaica case, focus on profitability, using
arbitrary guidelines to pick and choose whom they bank with.
132 Minister of Finance Audley Shaw announced an additional USD $11.6 million for micro enterprise at the
JAMFA meeting, 28 October 2009. 133
The Small Business Association of Jamaica (SBAJ) argues that financing of the microfinance sector is “joke
money” (too small) given that 400,000 people work in the informal sector. See Klein and Tokman’s report
(1993) and IDB (2002) about the informal sector and regulation in Jamaica.
134 This finding corresponds with earlier empirical research on the subject (Ulysse 2007; Honig 2000; 1998).
114
As of 2009, only 10% of all Jamaican micro entrepreneurs have access to
microfinance, despite the fact that this small market boasts at least forty micro lenders.135
Government policy makers are fully aware of the changes needed to make microfinance
inclusive. And most micro lenders will say they believe in the guiding principle that banking
reaches those persons excluded from finance. Yet, incorrect assumptions and personal biases
reveal that loans fail to reach residents in the slums.
One illustrative example comes from a member of the political elite hand-picked by
the Office of the Prime Minister (OPM), whom I met with in his New Kingston office (in an
expensive retail area). This official, who argued for increased capitalization of microfinance
retailers to improve access to loans on the part of the urban poor, was closely related to one
of the managers of a well-known MFI (Anonymous Interview, 1 April 2009)—a personal
relationship that could explain the bias of his analysis. Like others of his uptown background,
this official dismissed the idea that class-entrenched biases and clientelist politics obstructed
people’s access to micro-credit. Instead, he assumed, without any empirical data, that more
capital would improve their access.
The Jamaican government’s seemingly well-intentioned support for the economic
development sector is contradictory (Bowen 2005, 2007). On the one hand, political elites
claim micro lenders (those not directly involved in politics) are best suited to make micro
loans. On the other hand, they provide state lending agencies with funds for micro-credit,
thus becoming directly involved. Elected officials also allocate Constituency Development
135 Johnson’s report (2008) finds that 40,000 borrowers access microfinance.
115
Funds (CDF) to lenders to make loans in their local area. Politicians (and micro bankers)
assume that hustlas, who reside in slums, do not understand the dealings at Jamaican House.
However, most of the hustlas I met with know that the CDF funds allocated to elected
officials to support certain microfinance programs.136
These scenarios contrast sharply with the global image of microfinance as being a
non-political tool to help the economically-active poor. In this chapter, I argue that 41% (n =
96) of the hustlas I interviewed are either excluded from access to loans because of class bias
of the microfinance lenders or self-exclude to avoid clientelist practices of Dons and
politicians.137
Hustlas who opt out of loan programs turn to “Partner” (informal banks). They
choose this alternative source for loans in order to resist the power of “Big Men”—the
politicians or Dons attempting to control them. In this way, they assert their own financial
independence through resources they trust.
This chapter demonstrates the exclusionary nature of micro banking in the Jamaica
case, where hustlas from marginalized urban communities, who seek micro loans, cannot
obtain them. Stakeholders interviewed (n = 74) were not surprised that micro-credit fails to
reach the bulk of the entrepreneurial poor, but they were surprised to hear that many poor
business people do not embrace micro-credit (Wenner Discussion, 9 November 2010;
Anonymous OPM Interview, 23 September 2009; Taylor-Spence Interview, 16 July 2009).
136 The latest microfinance index ranking which placed Jamaica last in terms of performance and outreach—
nowhere in this report was there mention that certain bankers are colluding with politicians, which complicates
the micro lending. See Economist Intelligence Unit, 2008 Microscope on the Microfinance Business
Environment in Latin America and the Caribbean. October 2008, 39. 137
Refer to chapter 1 for the criteria requirements of micro business people in this study.
116
The hustlas who reject micro-credit do so because they view it as a tool misused by staff
persons, who attach their own inherent class biases or partisan politics to the loans. Many
uptown-based lenders assume that hustlas downtown thrive on handouts connected to
partisan politics. However, only 21% (n = 49) of the hustlas I interviewed were politically
active.
This chapter reveals that a significant number (40%, n = 93) of lenders have
important connections to political figures, and these lenders act in an explicitly political way
(binding themselves to specific politicians) by taking referrals of clients from politicians.
Such connections between bankers and politicians make (mostly apolitical) hustlas
suspicious of micro-credit.138
The following section describes the class politics among
microfinance managers. Because skin privilege frames the discussion of class in this context,
throughout this section I highlight the skin colour of individuals. Next, I compare the
political tendencies of lenders with the types of perceived discrimination business people
feel. In the third section, I analyze the informal politics (also shrouded in class) of Dons and
politicians (mis)using micro-credit for their own political ends. In the final section, I show
that the coupling of class biases and clientelistic practices discourages micro business people
from taking micro loans. Instead, hustlas turn to local community banks to avoid
manipulative managers.
138 Stone (1996, 96) argues that wealthy Jamaicans have been viewed suspiciously by the poor as not wanting
the ‘small man’ to move out of poverty.
117
Staging the Context: Biased Lending Practices
Financial institutions, including commercial banks, are supervised by the Central
Bank of Jamaica and require licensing from the Ministry of Finance. Institutions that are not
classed as “banks” (such as, NGOs and private financial companies) are regulated by the
Moneylending Act. Many microfinance organizations are staffed with highly educated
managers (usually with university degrees) and the institutions themselves have significant
donor funds. Closer inspection, however, reveals that of the 412,600 owner accounts
(entrepreneurs in the informal sector) only 10% have micro loans despite the saturation of
microfinance retailers (Perkins Email from STATIN, 28 October 2009; STATIN 2008;
Johnson 2008).139
State policy makers have become increasingly concerned over this small number of
entrepreneurial people accessing micro loans from unregulated MFIs. Reports often analyze
administrative bottlenecks but fail to explain why people go to unregulated financial
providers for loans (Tennant 2008; UWI 2006; Holden 2005). The Caribbean Capacity
Project I (Carib Cap I) at the IDB, which focuses on developing the capacity of staff persons,
makes no mention of internal politics affecting access to financial services.140
However, I
argue that, while technical know-how can affect the performance of retailers, these
challenges are not the only issues limiting outreach to the economically active poor in the
slums. The technical issues that donors and investors focus on are only a distraction from
what is really going on; that is, class and racial bias on the part of certain micro lenders.
139 Hope Perkins of STATIN defined the term “own account worker” as micro and small self-employed
unregistered businesses in the informal sector (Email October 2009). 140
A call for proposal for a follow on to Carib-Cap II was released in March 2012 requesting that consulting
firms increase the skills of staff persons.
118
This case included interviews of 307 Jamaicans, or 67% of the total sample size (see
Table 1.3 in chapter 1). The bulk of interviews were with 233 hustlas, of which 64% (n =
177) were women (See Table 1.2 in chapter 1). Micro lenders accounted for 32 persons, and
at least 42 stakeholders were interviewed (civil society experts, donors, academics, policy
makers, business and religious leaders).141
This case includes the top 23 microfinance
organizations, which cumulatively reached 58,589 clients (as of August 2009).142
Micro
bankers are educated Afro-Jamaicans (75%, n = 24) with an average age of 51 years, and
nearly all lenders (96%, n=30 out of 32) have an upper class social and economic
background—that is, an uptown background/residence—and a tertiary education that,
collectively, sets them apart from the poorer classes.143
Table 3.1, below, illustrates the
breakdown of hustla interviewees by community and political affiliation. It also shows the
numbers of micro bankers and stakeholders interviewed. Most managers in microfinance
have limited first-hand knowledge of the slum communities where their respective programs
hold the potential to flourish.144
Less than 24% (n = 8 out of 32) of the lenders in this case
had lived in the slums.
141 Refer to the methodology section of chapter 1 for a definition of stakeholders.
142 Jamaica Survey of Living Conditions (2008) cites 12 micro/small enterprise lenders but I speculate that there
are at least 40 lenders in Kingston. 143
A few slums are located in uptown areas where the elites live—Grant’s Pen is an example—most of the poor
hustlas live downtown. 144
I do not count those who claim to venture downtown to attend a gallery, shop at a downtown market, or
partake in a dancehall “passa passa” or enjoy “Old Hits” on Sundays at Raetown as lived-experience.
119
Table 3.1 Number of Interviews/Sample Size for Kingston, Jamaica
PNP Communities JLP Communities
Maxfield
Park
Whitfield
Town
Arnett
Gardens PNP
Totals
Rose
town
Denham
Town
Tivoli
Gardens JLP
Totals Total
Total
Focus
Groups 13 0 20 33 14 14 16 44 77
Total
Individual
Interviews 22 29 33 84 31 15 26 72 156
Total
Hustlas 35 29 53 117 45 29 42 116 233
Microfinance Lenders 32
Stakeholders 42
Total Elites 74
TOTAL SAMPLE 307
Most micro lenders (93%, n = 30 out of 32) justified that the urban poor’s lack of
access to finance is due to internal “fragmentation” among lenders. No one cited identity bias
or politics of any kind as a factor in exclusion. According to most lenders, fragmentation
among business networks such as the Small Business Association of Jamaica (SBAJ), the
Small Business Development Agency, the Micro Small Medium Enterprise (MSME)
Alliance, the Private Sector Organization of Jamaica (PSOJ),145
and the Jamaican Chamber
of Commerce (JCC) has led to overlap and duplication. A few retailers, such as the National
Growth Microfinance Bank and Micro Enterprise Financing Limited (MEFL) were relatively
145 The President of the PSOJ (2009) is Joseph Matalon, of one of the island’s richest families. He is also
Chairman of the Development Bank of Jamaica and a board member of MicroCredit Limited.
120
closed and it was difficult for me to speak to them.146
Internal tensions among microfinance
managers indicate competition, ego, and personality clashes that may affect efficiency, but
they do not explain exclusionary micro lending (Gray Interview, 10 July 2009).
The state’s Development Bank of Jamaica (DBJ), a wholesaler in microfinance,
issues Approved Financial Institution (AFI) status to lenders, and, as of October 2009, had
done so for five MFIs (Lewars Interview 8 March 2009; ESSJ 2008). These five micro
lenders are considered the “mainstream” MFIs. Mainstream institutions have managers who
are able to secure grants, are well informed in “development program speak,” and are able to
attract capital from donor agencies. See Table 3.2 (see later) for details on the mainstream
micro lenders (a mix of public and private institutions).
Internal schisms have arisen among micro lenders over the right to serve the urban
poor. Mainstream micro lenders, who are better educated and further removed socially from
the clients they serve, feel that they are better able to meet the needs of slum dwellers. As
shown in Figure 3.1, the majority of micro lenders (75%, n = 24) are Afro-Jamaicans. Even
dark-skinned Afro-Jamaican micro bankers are referred to by hustlas downtown as
“brownings” when they clearly are not.147
Private financial companies (also referred to as
moneylenders) claim that mainstream lenders shun them as loan sharks as a way to fight over
this market (JAMFA event, 28 October 2009).148
These moneylenders are moving into the
hard-to-reach markets where mainstream lenders are reluctant to go. To contest these
146 Local researchers (including the PIOJ staff) who write the microfinance section of the ESSJ (annual
government survey) found difficulties accessing information from these two groups. 147
Refer to chapter 2 for explanation of terms. 148
Speech by Raymond Gabbidon, Executive Director of JAMFA, and Worldnet’s Hurshel Cyrus. Knutsford
Hotel, New Kingston. See JAMFA’s website: http://www.jamfa.com/page/1_about-us.html
121
accusations that they are loan sharks, these moneylenders have organized under the Jamaica
Microfinancing Association (JAMFA) and lowered interest rates as a sign of support for the
poor during the recession
(Jamaica Gleaner 12 April
2009). Even with positive
efforts to lower rates for
consumers, an IDB
specialist argued that “most
private finance companies
are questionable,” (inferring
to me they are involved in money laundering) (Anonymous Discussion, 9 November 2010).
These internal schisms highlight divisions between two types of lenders, which
inevitably play out in the marketplace. The split between well-educated mainstream lenders
and moneylenders who are less educated and who often have humble class backgrounds has
led to the development of two separate networks, and it is the latter—the private
moneylenders who do not subscribe to the philosophy of micro lending—that reach
entrepreneurs in the ghettos. When donors (such as the IDB) choose sides (and subsidizes) in
favour of mainstream lenders in the Caribbean Microfinance Alliance (CMFA), the donor
gives tacit approval to these lenders over private finance companies who may be less
political.149
149 The IDB’s supports a regional network: the Caribbean Microfinance Alliance (CMA) to replace the defunct
Caribbean Microfinance Network (CMN) (Emails, IDB staff person, 23 November 2010).
122
Jamaican Universe of Microfinance
Historically, Jamaican commercial banks have catered to the business elite and
foreign interests and ignored the entrepreneurial poor. 150
Since the 2000s, many
microfinance lenders emerged in Kingston to reach the economically active poor excluded by
formal banks. Lenders in Kingston include commercial banks, wholesalers, credit unions,
foundations, NGOs, specialized microfinance agencies, and private financial companies.
Informal lenders such as Dons and Partner bankers all participate in making loans to the
borrowers in the downtown slums. My aim in this section of the chapter is to examine the
perception shared by Jamaican entrepreneurs that micro lenders are privileged individuals
who are biased and detached from their reality.
In the late 1980s, Jamaica’s state-owned banks—such as Workers Savings and Loans
Bank,151
Solidarity,152
and the ASSIST program—made loans to the entrepreneurial poor;
however, these programs, used by politicians to reward party loyalists, have been
disbanded.153
It is commonly accepted among Jamaicans that state-owned microfinance
programs inevitably fail. However, MIDA, created under Manley’s PNP party, and SSF,
started by Seaga’s JLP, are two political microfinance agencies still operating in Kingston.
Ffrench (2008) suggests that most clients perceive MIDA to be political. In interviews,
150 Only 2% of the hustlas interviewed used a commercial bank for savings: National Commercial Bank (NCB),
is owned by Jamaican-Canadian, Michael Lee Chin. See http://www.jncb.com/bus_sol/products.asp 151
Worker’s Bank established in 1997 (defunct by 1999) as noted in Frontier Finance International’s report
(1999) and Richfield and Pace Investments report (1994). 152
Solidarity program was a project of the HEART training program managed by Carla Vendryes (Edward
Seaga’s wife). See Seaga’s article: http://www.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20080615/focus/focus3.html 153
Workers Savings and Loans Bank was merged into the Island Victoria Bank Limited and Eagle Commercial
Bank, to form the Union Bank of Jamaica Limited (UBJ) and then acquired by Trinidadian-owned RBTT Bank
Jamaica Limited. By 2000, FINSAC was a majority shareholder and JNBS purchased a micro-credit portfolio
from FINSAC. Interview with Basil Naar of the CCCUL (he was formerly with Workers) 27 May 2009. Visit:
http://www.boj.org.jm/supervised_deposit.php and http://www.jnsbl.com/?content/about/homepage
123
hustlas stated that MIDA and SSF favoured party followers, and that hustlas who are not
politically active are rejected. A Maxfield Park business person in a PNP stronghold said she
was excluded from SSF because microfinance managers preferred to give loans to their “own
kind” (Big Reds Interview, 31 March).
In 2009, MIDA and SSF are both led by non-Blacks: Chinese-Jamaican Vivian Chin
and Indo-Jamaican Carmen Lowers, respectively. The racial and class bias in micro lending
programs is thus reinforced by the presence of non-Black and educated managers of two
institutions perceived to be political. In February 2009, the JLP-led state awarded the sum of
USD $1,744,186 to another state agency, the Jamaican Business Development Agency
(JBDC), run by a Harvard-educated browning woman, Valerie Veira to pilot micro and small
loans. JBDC, which claims to be autonomous, is in fact accountable to white-Jamaican Karl
Samuda, the then-minister of Industry Investment and Commerce (MIIC) at the time of this
research.154
Even though state leaders know that state-owned microfinance programs are not
sustainable, leaders continue to invest in new government agencies to make business loans
(Campbell Interview, 28 May 2009; Naar Interview, 27 May 2009; Bennett Interview, 16
March 2009; Chin Mook Interview, 16 March 2009).
In 1981, Prime Minister Edward Seaga’s (JLP) close relationship to the U.S. led to
increased American presence in the country, which assisted civil society organizations to
secure USAID funding for the quasi-state agency, the National Development Foundation of
Jamaica (NDFJ). NDFJ has received donor funds despite a study showing it to have bad
154 Samuda’s picture was in the main lobby of the JBDC office at South Camp Road in 2009.
124
governance (Richfield and Pace Investment Limited 1994)—making it another example of a
poorly run state agency.
In 1983, a Jamaican NGO called Credit Organization for Pre-Micro Enterprises
(COPE) accessed Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) funds through
Canada’s Save the Children. COPE became one of the first microfinance NGOs (Devon Dick
Interview, 7 April 2009; Bennett Interview, 16 March 2009). In 2009, COPE led by an Afro-
Jamaican Horace Bennett, creatively outsourced part of its portfolio to a community-based
organization called Hope for Children Development Corporation (HCDC) because many of
its loan officers (who are educated and not from the slums) would not work in slum
neighbourhoods (Bennett Interview, 16 March 2009; Troupe Interview, 6 March 2009). This
type of innovation shows that an MFI can reach viable business people in hard-to-reach
garrisons through a community-based partner. Unfortunately, COPE has limited funding to
expand this methodology.
In the 2000s, the Jamaican microfinance sector expanded in terms of the number of
lending organizations, including non-profit organizations making micro loans to the urban
poor in downtown Kingston (see Table 3.2, below). To respond to the growing demands,
funds were channeled through wholesaler organizations to credible MFIs (ESSJ 2007, ch. 13;
Webber 2000, 2–7). As of November 2009, there were four major wholesalers (firms that
lend to MFIs) in the sector: the DBJ (a state entity); MIDA (state-owned) (MIDA 2006);155
155 MIDA receives funds from the National Insurance Small Enterprise Credit Facility.
125
Development Options Limited (DOL) (a private firm);156
and Pan Caribbean Financial
Services (a private firm) (April to August 2009 Interviews). In this section I describe the
major microfinance lenders, highlighting those that access state funds and those that are
perceived as politicized. Table 3.2 (below) is an overview of the microfinance enterprises:
mainstream, state-owned, member-owned, private moneylenders, and informal lenders.
Table 3.2 Major Micro Lenders in Kingston (2009)157
Type Name/Date
Started
Status/Affiliation # of
Clients
Slums in which Active
(from study)
Subsidies State
Funds
Interest
Rate /
year
Ma
inst
rea
m
JNSBLL AFI – Bank 18,203 Tivoli, Denham Town,
Arnett Gardens,
Maxfield Park
Yes Yes 60-75%
Access,
2000
AFI – Private
Company
8,300 Tivoli Gardens,
Rosetown
No No 60-75%
MCL, 2003 AFI – NGO,
American investor
2,261 Denham Town Yes No NA
Nation
Growth,
2007
AFI – Private
company
1,200 Denham Town, Tivoli
Gardens
No Yes 60-75%
MEFL,
2003
NGO, CIDA/ Scotia
Bank
3,007 Arnett Gardens,
Denham Town
Yes No 54-64%
COPE, 1983 NGO 1,100 Whitfield Town, Rose
Town, Arnett Gardens
Yes No 31.5%
S
tate
ow
ned
JBDC State 59 Arnett Gardens,
Denham Town, Tivoli
Gardens
No Yes NA
MIDA,
1990s
State (Manley)
3,000 Arnett Gardens,
Maxfield
No Yes NA
156 Owner of DOL was head of Manley’s MIDA and is active in the PNP and manages the GOJ/GON
microenterprise loan program and GOJ/MicroFin project and is a government-appointed wholesale agent that
administers the GOJ/TDB/PCF MSME Credit Scheme. (See The Gleaner, http://www.jamaica-
gleaner.com/gleaner/20060530/news/news2.html ) 157
Commercial banks such as NCB, BNSJ were interviewed but their data on loans were not available.
126
SSF, 1980s State (Seaga)
204 Tivoli Gardens,
Rosetown
No Yes NA
NDFJ,
1980s
Private foundation 150158 Arnett Gardens,
Denham Town, Tivoli
Gardens
Yes Yes 60-75%
Mem
ber
ow
ned
COKCU AFI – Credit union NA Arnett Gardens Yes Yes 35%159
CCCUL,
1971
AFI – Credit union 664 Arnett Gardens Yes Yes 40-50%
Mo
ney
len
der
s
First Union Private company 7,500 Tivoli Gardens,
Maxfield Park, Denham
Town
No Yes 50-60%
Kris an
Charles,
1991
Private company 13,000 Arnett Gardens,
Maxfield Park, Denham
Town, Whitfield Town
No No 25-60%
Info
rmal
Partner Informal Million All No No <10%
Dons/ Area
Leaders
Informal Unknow
n
Tivoli Gardens,
Rosetown, Denham,
Arnett Gardens
No No <20%
Note: Data was provided to me in follow-up surveys to the heads of the institutions in August 2009.
Wholesales have a tendency to favour certain microfinance lenders, and these
relationships are based on personal contacts. For example,interviewees reported that DOL is
run by an active and high-ranking PNP member who is light-skinned and foreign-educated
(April–October 2009 Interviews, dates and names withheld on purpose). Although
wholesalers claim that they analyze the market to target the best lenders, the fact is that they
do so with inherent biases. Wholesalers often choose mainstream MFIs (where there are
connections). Most private financial companies “moneylenders” I met with (my own
participant observation) were run by people who seemed less educated than mainstream
lenders. Yet, their loans were reaching large numbers of people in the slums. In fact, it was
158 In the ESSJ 2008, NDFJ reported 191 loans granted, which was a drop from 431 in 2007.
159 Focus on AIR’s Livity program in Arnett Gardens, March 2009.
127
through the entrepreneurs in the slums that I learned the importance of these private financial
companies. (Field work 2009; Turner Interview, 1 June 2009; Campbell Interview, 28 May
2009; Hutchinson Interviews, 12 May 2009; Focus Group Maxfield Park, 20 March 2009).160
The next section examines the political links of the various micro lenders. Micro
Credit Limited (MCL), one of the mainstream lenders and a small private organization
located downtown, started microfinance programs in 2003 for women’s groups. MCL is
owned by an American investor, Michael Rauenhorst (formerly of Deutche Bank), and is run
by Mitzian Turner, a young dark-skinned Afro-Jamaican. The board chairman of MCL is
Joseph Matalon, a rich white-Jamaican whose family is reportedly closely connected to the
PNP (Panton 1993). This fact might explain why some skeptics consider the institution to be
connected to the PNP (at the time) and why the organization accesses capital externally.161
The organization has had to work through certain Don-controlled structures (e.g., in Spanish
Town) to carry out activities (Observed an interview session with Micro Rate, September
2009). Table 3.3 outlines (see below) the perceived political affiliations of select lenders
according to information obtained from hustlas, managers, the media, and stakeholders.
160 One exception is Lloyd Campbell of First Union who has accessed funds from a wholesale retailer, DOL.
161 Matalon is also the Chairman of the Development Bank of Jamaica (DBJ) and the Private Sector
Organization of Jamaica (PSOJ) as of October 2009.
128
Table 3.3 Perceptions of the Political Affiliations of Select Microfinance Actors (random
ordering)
Microfinance Actor Political Party Affiliation
Jamaican National Small Business Limited (JNSBLL) Jamaican Labor Party (JLP)/Mixed
Access Microfinance (ACCESS ) JLP
Nation Growth Microfinance Bank (Aubyn Hill) JLP
Credit Organization for Pre-Microenterprises (COPE) None
Jamaica Business Development Agency (JBDC) JLP/State
Self-Start Fund (by Seaga) JLP
Development Options Limited (DOL) People's National Party (PNP)
Micro Investment Development Agency (by Manley) PNP
Micro Enterprise Financing Limited (MEFL) PNP
Churches Cooperative and Credit Union Limited (CCCUL,
General Manager Basal Naar) PNP
First Union Company None
Kris An Charles Company None
Pan Caribbean Financial Services (PCFS) None
City of Kingston Credit Union (COKCU) PNP/Mixed
Source: Interviews, Focus groups, Jamaica Observer, The Gleaner, Sunday Herald
In 2003, MEFL, an NGO, was funded by CIDA to initiate a program to pilot group
loans for poor businesswomen (Anonymous discussions, senior staff persons, November
2008 and July 2009). Persons interviewed (who asked not to be named) speculate that MEFL
is connected to the PNP because long-standing board member Morin Seymour was once
closely affiliated to the PNP and its main areas of operations were in PNP strongholds. CIDA
funding thus occurred under a PNP mandate. In interviews, it was revealed to me that MEFL
experienced financial losses because politically referred clients did not repay loans
129
(Anonymous Interview, 5 March 2009; Anonymous Interview, 12 May 2009).162
It is unclear
whether CIDA or the Bank of Nova Scotia Jamaica, which provided loan capital to MEFL,
were aware of this (CIDA Interview, 10 July 2009).
A new entrant, Nation Growth Microfinance Bank, is located in the exclusive area of
New Kingston and has inherited a number of MEFL staff persons, such as its CEO Curven
Whyte, who is dark-skinned. Former director of MEFL, Debra Williams, assisted Nation
Growth in its startup phase (Interview, April 2009). This staff turn-over at Nation Growth
and MEFL explains the tension between the two banks. Nation Growth was set up by former
banker and investment analyst Aubyn Hill, an Afro-Jamaican who is an active JLP
member.163
Nation Growth is thus perceived as a politicized bank (see Table 3.3) (see
Sunday Herald, The Jamaica Observer during 2009 period). In 2009, Aubyn Hill was a
highly paid consultant to the then-Golding administration, a fact that connects Nation Growth
directly to the JLP state.164
Jamaica’s largest micro lender is the Jamaica National Small Business Loans Limited
(JNSBLL), a subsidiary of Jamaica National Building Society (JNBS), with over 18,000
microfinance clients in 2009 (see Table 3.2). JNBS is today headed by an Afro-Jamaican,
162 Political candidate, Trevor Munroe, apparently referred constituents for loans to MEFL, and none of those
loans issued were ever repaid (Field work 2009). 163
Survey information submitted in August 2009. More information on Nation Growth can be found on their
website (http://www.nationgrowth.com/). An article in the Jamaica Observer, titled “Nation Growth to aid small
businesses” (Edwards on 26 March 2008) explains the mission and background of the newly launched Nation
Growth Bank. See also: The Gleaner (http://www.jamaica-
gleaner.com/gleaner/20080320/business/business13.html) 164
Hill’s firm Corporate Strategies Limited received JMD 27 million from the JLP government for consulting
services to privatize the sugar sector, which became a controversial issue in 2009. See more in the leading
newspapers: The Sunday Herald (http://www.sunheraldja.com/2009/10/27m-for-aubyn-hill/) and The Jamaica
Observer (http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/news/Aubyn-Hill-s-contract-to-be-reviewed)
130
Earl Jarrett; and the CEO of the JNSBLL is also an Afro-Jamaican, Frank Whylie. Yet the
business people I interviewed referred to these highly educated Afro-Jamaicans at JNSB as
brownings; this mislabelling signals that hustlas regard this group of educated Afro-
Jamaicans as belonging to the upper class.
JNSBLL’s founder, Oliver Clarke, is Chinese-Jamaican and he is also editor of The
Gleaner, a newspaper often criticized for its rightward leanings. JNSBLL politics is
perceived as mixed because leaders within the institution are identified with one of the two
political parties, but not consistently (see Table 3.3). However, many are convinced that
JNSBLL is linked to the JLP (a fact that cannot be determined). Coincidentally, JNSBLL
established one of the first branch offices in the JLP stronghold of West Kingston (but not in
Arnett Gardens, a PNP mother garrison). These branch offices reach two slums that are
included in this study, which may explain why borrowers perceive the JNSBLL as linked to
the JLP.165
Yet, JNSBLL is also a recipient of constituency development funds from a PNP
politician, despite the institution’s effort to downplay this relationship. I cannot confirm
political connections between JNSBLL and the two major parties; however, some of the
people I interviewed indicated they are quite certain of political influence in JNSBLL.
Access Financial Services (ACCESS) is a private finance company led by Marcus
James, a young rich Afro-Jamaican. U.S.-educated James is the son of KLAS FM 89 radio
station owner, Neville James, and a high-profile JLP member. ACCESS is capitalized by
Mayberry Investments, a well-known investment house, and it was listed on the Junior
165 JNSBLL’s Tivoli branch is located at Justin’s Place, also known as Passa Passa Plaza, off Spanish Town
Road. A private finance retailer, First Union Financial Services Limited, is located in the same building, above
JNSBLL. A visit to Justin’s Place to observe operations at both retailers took place on 27 May 2009.
131
Jamaican Stock Exchange as of October 14, 2009.166
In my interviews, people identified
ACCESS as linked to the JLP because of the owners of the firm. This political connection
creates the perception that ACCESS lends only to people in JLP-controlled neighbourhoods.
At the time of this fieldwork, ACCESS was active in JLP areas of West Kingston and less so
in other slums.167
Moneylenders were not initially included in my early interviews because they are
excluded from mainstream referral system. Hustlas informed me that private financial
companies (e.g., Kris An Charles, First Union, OBF, Orion, WorldNet, and Michael
Financial Investment) had been making micro loans, especially in the downtown slums, long
before the mainstream institutions (Focus group Arnett Gardens, 16 May 2009; Focus group
Maxfield Park, 20 March 2009). Business persons in Maxfield Park, Whitfield, and Rose
Town—slum areas with low microfinance penetration—constantly referred to these private
firms. Business people identify with these companies because the people who run them are
not far removed from the class backgrounds of the people they serve.
Private financial companies reach significant numbers of business people in the
slums, cumulatively reaching more than 20,000 clients, and are not viewed as political
(JAMFA meeting, 28 October 2009).168
These private companies (moneylenders), such as
Kris An Charles and First Union, were started by lower middle class dark-skinned Afro-
166 Mayberry Investments Limited holds 49% and Marcus James 51% of the company’s shares, 30 September
2009. See Access’s website http://www.accessfinanceonline.com 167
In my study, only JLP political strongholds named Access Financial as being involved in their community.
168Many of the moneylenders (see Table 3.2) (represented by JAMFA) are cumulatively reaching more than
25,000 poor clients.
132
Jamaicans who did not have foreign university degrees. Kris An Charles is owned by Trevor
and Judith Hutchinson, a couple who mortgaged their house in 1990 (when Trevor was made
redundant by the Bank of Jamaica) to start a micro lending business in Cross Roads (a
transportation hub close to the downtown areas) (Hutchinsons Interviews, 12 May 2009). The
First Union Financial Company Limited is owned by Lloyd Campbell, a dark-skinned Afro-
Jamaican from a modest social background (Campbell Interview, 28 May 2009) who used to
clean offices in Toronto, Canada. First Union has offices in New Kingston and in Justin’s
Plaza in Denham Town (opposite Tivoli Gardens)—JLP strongholds.
Political affiliation is perceived even among the large member-owned institutions, the
country’s longest running bankers to the poor. As discussed in chapter 2, Jamaica’s credit
unions were formed in the pre-independence period in 1942 by various church groups (e.g.,
the Roman Catholic Church).169
As of 2002, the Jamaica Association of Cooperative and
Credit Unions (JACCUL) had 49 member credit unions with a membership of 560,310
(Whyte 2001). The most important credit unions in Kingston making micro loans are the
Churches Cooperative and Credit Union Limited (CCCUL) 170
and the City of Kingston
Credit Union (COKCU) and both have branches in the PNP stronghold of Arnett Gardens, a
slum in the study (Naar Interview, 27 May 2009).
CCCUL’s managing director, Basil Naar, is a light-skinned Jamaican from Arnett
Gardens. This personal connection to Arnett Gardens taints CCCUL as a PNP banking
169 CUs are governed by the Credit Union Regulation Act 2000 and jurisdiction over these societies falls under
the Ministry of Agriculture, Youth, and Cooperatives and not the Bank of Jamaica. 170
More information on CCCUL’s micro loan products can be found on their website
( http://www.churchescreditunion.com/dynaweb.dti?dynasection=loans&dynapage=micro_loans ).
133
partner (see Table 3.3). The other credit union, COKCU grew out of the Catholic Church’s
Social Action Center of only 200 members. By 2009, COKCU had more than 200,000
members (McLaughlin Interview, 19 March 2009). Some of the business people I met with
associate COKCU with the PNP, but I was unable to confirm this. In April 2009, COKCU
collaborated with a local NGO, Agency for Inner City Renewal (AIR), to launch micro-credit
activities in Trench Town.171
For some, this affiliation has branded COKCU with the PNP
because it is operational in PNP strongholds of Arnett Gardens and the upper part of Rose
Town, but not active in the lower part of Rosetown, a JLP stronghold as of December 2009.
Where a microfinance lender operates thus affects people’s perceptions of the intentions of
the lender.
Despite the variety of micro lenders most poor Jamaicans access financing through
informal lenders as well as private finance companies. However, an important lender, Dons,
are also part of the microfinance universe (Ulysse 2007, 166; Tafari-Ama 2006, 198;
Robotham 2003, 217)—although the exact number of borrowers they serve is unknown. As
outlined in the previous chapter, Dons are the “new patrons” for many of the Kingston poor,
no longer taking orders from politicians because they have lucrative (usually illegal)
enterprises (Bronfman 2007, 64; Hope 2006, 93; Rapley 2006, 95; Harriott 2003; Robotham
2003, 217; Sives 2002, 2003). Another important lender to the poor and excluded people are
informal banks, like Partner (Besson 1996, 269; Harrison 1988, 113). Partner banks are
organized by women “banker ladies” who reach remarkably large numbers of people
171 AIR’s founder, Dr. Henley Morgan (an outsider to Trench Town has a high-profile PNP brother). Interviews
with Henley and his staff persons Otis Whyte (resident) and Richard Lambie (Jamaican-Canadian) on the
LIVITY Economic Advancement Program from April to August 2009. See Gereffi’s Jamaica Gleaner article
(2008) about AIR’s founder, Henley Morgan.
134
(estimated at one million). Yet, the implications of these banks for microfinance are seldom
analyzed (Rutherford 2000; Handa and Kirton 1999; Katzin 1959, 436).
Managers and Downtown Clients
Most micro lenders (with the exception of Dons and Partner “banker ladies”) lack
first-hand knowledge of the urban poor. In fact, the senior microfinance managers I
interviewed reinforced negative stereotypes. They characterized the slums, like this:
“downtown is war,” adding that “most people down there don’t want to work for anything.”
This section highlights the class backgrounds and partisan politics of microfinance lenders
and its implications for micro lending. In chapter 2, I argued that class is entrenched in
Jamaican society and I show in this chapter how this is particularly so in Kingston, as
expressed in the economic division between the uptown-based lenders and downtown
hustlas. Knowing the identities of those persons who manage the microfinance sector is of
particular significance in understanding Jamaican microfinance.
In interviews, 99% (n = 231) of the hustlas interviewed were very dark-skinned
Blacks who demonstrated distrust towards the highly educated and uptown-based lenders
(see Figure 3.1 earlier).172
A sharp class division makes it hard for residents of either side
(uptown or downtown) to feel comfortable in the social and geographic space of the other
regardless of skin colour (Gray 2004, 17). A class divide, rather than a strictly racial/cultural
divide, is prevalent, which was illustrated to me by a dark-skinned Afro-Jamaican at the
172Only two persons among the Jamaican interviewees were of East Indian heritage; persons belonging to this
background are also referred to as Indian-Jamaican. When speaking about micro business persons or hustlas I
am referring to Jamaicans of African heritage. It is of crucial importance to recognize that hustlas usually have
very dark complexion. Tafari-Ama (2006, 282—283) offers a helpful definition of Black Jamaicans.
135
Planning Institute of Jamaica (PIOJ): she admitted to me that she would never work in the
garrisons—that is, the slums—because she was “afraid of the place (and people).”
Furthermore, she confided, “You are going to places that many Jamaicans never go all their
lives.” Hence, middle-class Afro-Jamaicans avoid the slums. Another microfinance expert
(who cannot be named) claimed she does not go downtown even though she is active in
designing loan programs for the poor. Similarly, downtown residents who come uptown to
the historical
landmark
Devon House
are uneasy in
this setting.
Both sides
appear to have
limited
knowledge of
the other. As shown in Figure 3.2 (see above), a significant number of lenders (35%, n = 11)
are located in the exclusive commercial district of New Kingston near Knutsford Boulevard,
far from the vast majority of hustlas.
The uptown and downtown divide marks a clear geographical separation, and
reinforces distrust between the microfinance lenders and hustlas (Gray 2004, 313). A CEO at
a mainstream micro bank justified his (uptown) location: “A New Kingston office is prestige
for them (hustlas) to come here (uptown) and to sit in the AC (air conditioning) and relax at
the bank” (Anonymous Interview, 9 March 2009). My own findings to the contrary suggest
136
that hustlas want convenience, and the cost and time of traveling outside of their area by
robo’ taxi are not desirable. Micro lenders (41%, n=13) such as private finance companies
and member-owned institutions are located closer to downtown (in the mid-town area, near
Cross Roads) are embraced more readily by the hustlas I interviewed.
In Kingston, social class is the predominant source of division. It is understandable
that the microfinance sector would be organized according to class interests. Even though the
majority of individuals running MFIs are Afro-Jamaican and female (77%, examined in
chapter 6), poor Jamaicans either (mis)label them as brownings or did not trust them to
provide assistance. Slum residents viewed educated Afro-Jamaicans who were not fair-
skinned as brownings because of their middle-class status, which, again, illustrates how these
class-laden issues affect the unfolding of micro lending in downtown Kingston. As described
above, there are perceived (and real) political affiliations among microfinance lenders.173
In
fact, peers in the industry were eager to “out” those persons perceived to be political but I
also verified this information to it down in the national newspapers, The Gleaner and the
Jamaica Observer. During one interview, for example, one micro-credit expert had a training
manual for the PNP on the office desk (Interview, details withheld on purpose).
Lenders around the globe know that for loans programs to succeed, they should be
free of politics (Rhyne and Otero 2006, 19). Yet, as shown in Figure 3.3, most microfinance
managers (64%, n = 20 out of 32) believe that party politics exists in micro banking. In fact,
a significant number of the staff (40%, n = 13 out of 32) who I interviewed identified
173 Although microfinance staff members were reluctant to admit their political party to me in interviews, it was
easy for me in a small society like Kingston to learn of people’s political activism in national newspapers and
through direct conversations with business people.
137
themselves with one of
the two political parties,
revealing clearly that
partisan politics does
have an impact on
micro lending. Party
loyalty of micro
bankers creates tensions
within the sector when
neutral managers do not
want party politics to operate in the sector (Interviews, April to September 2009).174
Politics can help or hinder a micro lender depending on whether their party is in
power. As mentioned earlier, partisan micro lenders (e.g. MIDA and SSF) have poor
repayment rates because of the perception that they are political entities. Conversely, one
microfinance executive believed that his company did not experience growth because his
party affiliation was not with the JLP (current government in power). Again, one senior
manager attributed the success of his organization to his political contacts in the previous
PNP government. In contrast, another lender applauded the JLP because of his ties to that
party. A firm with ties to the PNP (opposition party) said they had several (arbitrary)
financial audits by the JLP government. Yet critics (who cannot be named) retorted that, “X
174 Based on my own findings, I found that out of the 32 microfinance lenders, 29% were PNP, and 11% were
JLP.
138
got all that money from being attached to the PNP, and X’s activism in the PNP explains why
X feels threatened by the new government” (Four Anonymous, Interviews, dates withheld).
Certain microfinance firms grew under a particular party’s favour, and when their party was
no longer in government, the survival of the firm became uncertain.
Learning from Hustlas in Six Political Slums
Small loan place need to know wi. Wi know to look wi pickney and
deal wid money. Dem nah know wi [. . .] Nuff person inna di bank
tink dem betta dan lowa class.
(Translation: Microfinance institutions should be aware that they can
take care of their children and manage our finances. They
[microfinance persons] don’t know us. Many bankers think that they
are better than the poor). (Gem, a 48-year-old cake seller from
Maxfield Park)
This section examines the political activism among hustlas in six political strongholds
in the western part of downtown Kingston: Maxfield Park, Whitfield Town, Arnett Gardens,
Rose Town, Denham
Town, and Tivoli
Gardens (see Figure 3.4
for the location of
slums). It then reviews
the skepticism of these
poor residents about
micro loans. In the
quotation that opens Figure 3.4: Map of Downtown Kingston (Duncan-Waite and Woolcock
2008, 15)
139
this section, Gem suggests that microfinance staff members underestimate the hustlas’
abilities because these educated microfinance staff persons have no grasp of their (the poor’s)
lived realities.175
The Jamaican case reviews six communities, known as garrisons: three controlled by
the PNP and three by the JLP (see Appendix 3.1).176
According to Sives (2002), “[N]o
significant social, political, economic or cultural development can occur within a garrison
without tacit approval of the leadership of the dominant party.” Maxfield Park is an
exception: with multiple informal leaders competing for control and power over the
community, this slum experiences regular violence.177
See Appendix 3.1 for details on slum
communities.178
Generalized Findings
Across the communities, 61% (n = 142, out of 233) of hustlas interviewed cannot
access a micro loan.179
In this case, the average hustla is female and middle-aged (at 45) and
77% (n = 179) are hopeful about the potential of microfinance. This study corroborates that
most businesses in the informal sector are sole proprietorships (83%, n=233). About half of
the proprietors have seven years of experience (Nicholson Interview, October 2009; UWI
2006).180
The typical micro entrepreneur owns a very small grocery shop selling dry
175 Book-keeping is valued in uptown Jamaica, and the “head records” (numbers kept in the head) people use
downtown are viewed as indicative of lack of expertise. See Portfolios of the Poor, Collins et al. (2009) for a
contrary response, that the poor keep accurate accounting in their heads. 176
Communities in this study fit the definition of “garrison,” i.e., they are strongholds controlled by a political
party (Figueroa and Sives 2003; Harriott 2003; Munroe 1999; Stone 1994, 1986, 1980). 177
Harriott (2003) makes distinctions between the “hard” (strong) and “soft” (weaker) garrisons. 178
My data was also cross-checked with data at the Jamaica Elections Office at Duke Street, downtown
Kingston, July 2009.
140
foodstuffs, such as flour and rice, in the front of her home, and her gross sales amount to
USD $840 a month.181
Many women hustlas (52%, n = 121) have a visiting partner who
contribute to the household (PIOJ 2004; Dancehall Queen 1997; World Bank 1993; Miller
1991; Massiah 1983).182
Despite working full-time, hustlas live in crowded sub-standard housing, use utilities
illegally to meet basic necessities, and often “capture” housing (squat), as seen in Maxfield
Park, “Zimbabwe” (Arnett Gardens), and lower Rosetown.183
In these areas, people live in
unsafe and unfinished dwellings, many without indoor plumbing; in Frog City (in Maxfield
Park), for example, which is a zinc complex “tenement yard,” people use communal
standpipes and latrines (Fieldwork 2009; Gray 2004, 104).184
West Kingston’s Lizard’s
Town, Denham Town, and Mid Town have derelict housing. However, the housing in Bumbs
and Belgium (Tivoli Gardens) was in relatively good condition, with only 8% (n = 3) of
hustlas interviewed were squatting.
Most of the hustlas interviewed turned to self-employment to survive and to “take
care of pickney” (children) after becoming redundant in their low-paying jobs—usually in
factories or in the retail sector, working for Chinese or Lebanese-owned shops. Others
179 Honig (1998, 319) interviewed 254 Jamaican micro entrepreneurs and found that less than 4% had micro-
credit. 180
See “Survey of family-owned and women-owned businesses” (UWI 2006). 181
It is estimated that hustlas’ profits are no more than 15% for sale of imported food items. 182
“Visiting relationships” are arrangements where the man contributes to the household when he can. 183
In April 2009, JLP’s Minister of Water and Housing, Horace Chang, reported that nearly a one million (or a
third of) Jamaicans are squatting in tenement yards, and have no legal title. Jamaica Observer, 16 April 16 2009
(Vol. 15, No. 108). 184
With poor sanitary conditions, people “parachute” their waste (people defecate in plastic bags, tie the bags,
and throw them as far as possible). See SDC community profiles, 2007/8.
141
worked as unskilled casual laborers, shifting from one job to the next. Many more people
stated they had no employment options and were chronically unemployed.185
According to
the STATIN Labour Force Report (2008), national unemployment rates for women (14.2%)
are higher than for men (9.2%).186
However, the Social Development Commission (SDC)
report (2007/2008) disaggregates data by locality and finds that young males in the ghettos
experience higher rates of unemployment than any other group (SDC Interviews 2009; Miller
1991, 79).187
In Maxfield Park, at least 90% (n = 32) of the young men were unemployed
(Brown STATIN, 28 October 2009; SDC 2008, 7).188
(This information will be important
when discussing gender issues in the slums of Kingston in chapter 6).
Many community groups and microfinance lenders reside in the PNP part of Arnett
Gardens and the JLP stronghold, Tivoli Gardens. Trench Town, the PNP Arnett Gardens, and
the JLP’s Lower Rosetown are politically represented by PNP MP, Dr. Omar Davies. This
area is susceptible to conflicts because of the competing factions of JLP members living in
the stronghold of Rema (Harriott, Meeting, 26 February 2009). Arnett Garden’s Texas area
has become a hub for several Christian and evangelical churches and NGOs. Yet, Lower
Rosetown (a JLP stronghold), which has a vibrant local community led by activist elders
such as the late Michael Black, has no micro lending offices in the community because it is
185 Walking around Kingston, one can see graffiti painted on buildings: “bad slave.” People explained that “bad
slave” is someone who may resist, either quietly or openly, harassment and low wages (Gray 2004). 186
The national unemployment rate is 11.4% (R. Smith 2009). Martin Brown, STATIN, confirms that this
unemployment rate is based on national figures, and that it is possible that unemployment rates for men located
in certain areas can be higher than for women (Discussion, 28 October 2009). 187
SDC officers, most of whom are UWI-trained, attest that their data is used by STATIN and PIOJ researchers
(28 October 2009). 188
Information collected from Community Development Council (CDC), locally based group, 2007/8.
142
in a PNP-dominated area. This reflects the politicized nature of microfinance—the PNP
provides loans only where it has support.
Political borders have pernicious consequences for microfinance: for example, in
lower Rosetown (JLP area) hustlas cannot visit the micro loan programs provided to those
living in their own constituency (Trench Town) because the administration of these programs
is located in Texas, a PNP stronghold (Focus group in Rosetown, 10 June 2009). Citizens in
this area must leave their constituency to seek out services in Denham Town, a JLP area.
Residents of Denham Town and Mid Town argue that they do not receive the same benefits
as those in Tivoli Gardens, a favoured garrison of the JLP (Harriott UWI, Interviews, 29
September and 26 February 2009).189
As a result, citizens of Denham Town have worked
hard to support their area as a hub of entrepreneurial activity, and this community, from my
own observations, has a disproportionate number of self-employed persons (who are not
party activists) (Anonymous Civil Society Expert Interview, 29 September 2009; McKenzie
Interview, 12 March 2009). Business people in Denham Town are less inclined to be party
campaigners compared with Tivoli Gardens because, unlike the latter, they do not receive
political hand-outs.
Maxfield Park, a PNP stronghold, has limited civil society representation in the
community, which is believed to be because the elected politician, Peter Philips, wants it this
way (Anonymous Interviews, no date given on purpose) and community leaders follow his
189 Community development experts at SDC and JSIF agree with residents in Denham Town who claim that
they are treated as second-class citizens compared to citizens in Tivoli Gardens. Harriott said to me, “Denham
Town falls into the category of a soft garrison or satellite and the resources to this community will be limited.”
29 September 2009.
143
unstated orders. Appendix 3.1 illustrates the level of depravity in Philips’ constituency of
Maxfield Park with the low level of civil society actors (Interviews with SDC experts).
According to interviews, this PNP politician has stifled community activism to control
residents (details withheld on purpose). However, one of my findings was that the Maxfield
Park had the most politically complacent hustlas (people who campaign for a MP) because
people understand they can only access services (e.g. microfinance) from their political
representative. In Whitfield Town and Maxfield Park, police jeeps are a regular sight.
Policemen enter communities in a manner that is disrespectful, often exceptionally so, in
search of “yute” (youth) or “gunmen” (Robotham 2003, 225). While working in the area, I
witnessed police in riot gear searching for the gunmen. The absence of civil society
organizations combined with regular police harassment enhances the politicians’ power
because residents see him as the only person able to offer goods to them.
In Maxfield Park and Whitfield Town, gangs fight each other, as well as external
gangs, for the control of particular sub-communities or perceived turfs (Rapley 2006; Blake
2004).190
In JLP-controlled West Kingston, however, there is less crime than in the other
slums in the Denham Town area. People interviewed said that Dons (like Dudus) mete out
punishments to those involved in crimes and rapes in their community. In Denham Town
(West Kingston), 85% of the people interviewed said they felt safe in their community (SDC
Report on Denham Town 2007), whereas in Maxfield Park, most residents (86%) said they
feared violence. All the Tivolites I spoke to claimed that police harassment was a problem
190 In the past, “rude bwoys” were used by political leaders. The “bwoys” used guns to execute the force
believed necessary to turn the vote towards the leaders in question. Today, many of the youth gangs are part of
larger criminal organizations (Harriott 2008).
144
(SDC Report on Tivoli Gardens 2007; Gray 2004, 218). These varied experiences explain the
level of informal politics that control the lives of people downtown (see Appendix 3.1 for a
description of levels of violence by community). Often self-employment is a way people can
carve out their own autonomy.
Party Politics and Self-Exclusion from Micro Loans
The legacy of clientelism in current politics is driven by political elites (See chapter
2). In this case study, the microfinance lenders as well as stakeholders I interviewed stated
that the “garrison politics” phenomenon is unique to the downtown. A senior manager in a
microfinance program said, “Politics consumes persons in the ghettos and this is all they
want to do.” There is a prevailing view by Jamaicans that citizens who live south of Cross
Roads are all branded partisan (Figueroa and Sives 2003, 63). Yet, what they fail to say is
that politicians from uptown are often the patrons, interfering in loan programs. For slum
dwellers, being aligned with one of the two political parties—JLP and PNP—is what defines
them to the outside world (their “political tribe”), and a person’s political party is assumed
because of an address (Duncan-Waite and Woolcock 2008, 4; PIOJ 1997).
Middle and upper class people in politics and the microfinance industry assume that
all hustlas expect entitlements from politicians and informal leaders (Gray 2004, 96).
However, this case study found such assumptions to be questionable. I found that 79% (n =
184) of the hustlas interviewed claimed they were not politically active and hotly contested
145
the assumption that they were.191
“Ionie,” a 43-year-old mother of six and a sweety (candy)
and fruit seller, complained, “Some people inna ‘ere get loan and ‘aff no plan. Some people
jus’ get tings and others (who have a business) don’t” (Interview, February 2009, details
withheld on purpose). Ionie was one of the many hustlas interviewed who are frustrated
because political activists in her community access microfinance only because of politics and
not because of their business.
Hustlas in this case study viewed politics as “negative.” Politics is defined as
“politricks” (likely a Rastafari term that refers to the practice of clientelism), in which Big
Men use rewards to induce the poor into working and voting for them (Tafari-Ama 2006,
190; Robotham 2000, 17). An important finding was that only 21% (n = 49 out of 233) of
hustlas interviewed were politically active. Those 49 who were political received state
subsidies (e.g., school fees, medical support, cash allowances, housing) and were likely to get
a referral for a loan by a politician.192
Moreover, hustlas from party strongholds such as the
PNP-controlled Arnett Gardens and JLP’s Denham Town had the lowest voting levels (less
than 75%), which shows that they were less inclined to campaign for MPs. They were less
interested in politics and focused on running their enterprises. In stark contrast, residents in
Maxfield Park and Whitfield Town, areas troubled by gang violence (SDC 2008), were far
more inclined to engage in political activities. I explain this phenomenon below.
191 Political activism is defined as downtown residents campaigning and working for politicians with an
understanding that they will receive a favour later, or be paid for their work. 192
Of that number 89% (n=39) were women.
146
To follow up on the concepts of “political activism” and “party followers,” I asked
hustlas: Are you politically active? Do you campaign for a MP? I found that every single
hustla (n = 29) in Denham Town was anti-partisan (meaning that they did not prioritize
politics and political campaigning). Data from interviews (see earlier Figure 3.5) showed that
hustlas in Arnett
Gardens (88%) and
Denham Town (100%),
as well as Lower
Rosetown (81%), were
the most averse to
partisan politics and
less likely to accept
clientelistic practices.
Business people with anti-partisan feelings, like the ones in Arnett Gardens, Denham Town,
and Lower Rose town, viewed politics as a risk to their livelihoods.
Denham Town business people referred to party followers as “dem people who do
ray ray af nuttin a gwwan” (Translation: Party followers campaigning do not have serious
businesses). Community experts said that business people in Denham Town exhibited
“pride” and others called it “cockiness” because they were not dependent on handouts
(Shakes Interview, 30 September 2009; McKenzie Interview, 29 September 2009). Citizens
of Arnett Gardens, a slum that has had long experience with drug wars and internal conflicts
related to partisan politics, had become frustrated, with 88% (n = 47) reporting an anti-
147
partisan attitude.
Residents turned
towards self-
employment as a way
to reject party politics
(SDC Interviews, 25
September 2009).
An important
consequence of this
was that a significant
proportion of hustlas (who are not political) refused to seek loans (41%, n = 96) from
microfinance programs they deemed political. I found that many hard-working business
people self-excluded themselves.193
It is when hustlas (n = 233) were asked, “Did you have a
hard time accessing a micro loan?” that the concept of self-exclusion came up. Some hustlas
(who wanted a loan) would make a conscious decision to self-exclude themselves because of
the internal biases they perceived in the lender. As highlighted in Figure 3.6 shows hustla
self-exclusion, 41% (n = 96) of hustlas interviewed stated they “nah bodda wit dat” (do not
bother with that).
At first, I assumed that “nah bodda with dat” meant that people did not try for a loan.
But I learned that it meant that these qualified people made calculated decisions to opt out of
193 Having run a village bank in West Africa, I screened loan application from business people, and very aware
of people’s eligibility for a loan.
148
microfinance programs because they saw them as political projects. In other words, they
excluded themselves from micro loans because of the (perceived) racial, class, and partisan
politics in these programs.194
Most hustlas interviewed were not political and could not access a micro loan. Table
3.4 (below) shows that most business people (61%, n = 142 out of 233) interviewed (across
six communities) either do not have or never had a micro loan. A significant number of them
(41%, n = 96) self-exclude or opt out of untrustworthy lending programs. Of the total 32%
(n = 75) of those who did have a micro loan, 59% (n = 44) received one because of a
(perhaps perceived) referral by a politician as the reason they got a loan. Borrowers thus see
politicians as helping them. In a context in which most lending programs are run by women
(73% of the sector’s staff are female, see chapter 6), only 11% (n = 10) of male hustlas
interviewed obtained a micro loan compared to 45% (n = 65) of women. Increasingly,
women are using political referrals to get loans.
Table 3.4 Political Referrals for Micro Loans by Gender
Number of hustlas in study 233
Number of women interviewed 144 62%
Number of men interviewed 89 38%
All hustlas with loan 75 32%
Hustlas with no loan 142 61%
Hustlas who Self-Exclude 96 41%
Women with micro loan 65 45%
194 See criteria in chapter 1. Hustlas selected for this study had to have a desire for a micro loan or already
participate in micro loan programs.
149
Men with micro loan 10 11%
Political referrals for a micro loan 44 59%
Women with political referral 39 60%
Men with political referral 5 51%
A majority of the hustlas (n = 158) I interviewed felt that they were discriminated
against. Despite the variety of retailers making micro loans in Kingston, qualified business
people were not accessing micro loans (even when they wanted these loans). I therefore
asked why hustlas were having a hard time getting access to microfinance.195
Hustlas (n =
45) in Rosetown were not convinced that lenders would select lower class persons like
themselves. A stakeholder suggested that: “Pinpointing exactly how politics dominates credit
is valuable to unearthing why poor people have a hard time accessing something (like
microfinance) that is supposed to be helping them” (Interview, 11 March 2009, details
withheld by request).
Discrimination in Microfinance
Hustlas accept that some degree of screening must be conducted in lending programs,
but 68% (n = 158 out of 233) of the hustlas interviewed believe that they are excluded by
microfinance managers from accessing loans because of neighbourhood (“area”) and social
class (“where they come from”). A community leader from West Kingston said that “all men
are lumped together as bad and criminal” (Interview, 29 September 2009). The stigma of
who is “bad” is far more severe for men (Gray 2004, 103–104). Ironically, the very target
195 Access to microfinance was such an issue in 2009 that the Development Office and the IDB requested that I
share my field findings.
150
group of the most marginalized (e.g., Black men from the ghettos) feel that micro lenders
discriminate against them.
Female hustlas vouched to me that staff persons perceive “Man fram inna di ghetto as
gunman or tief” (Translation: Businessmen from the ghettos seen as assassins and thieves). In
the male-only focus groups, male respondents expressed the belief that they were
discriminated against because they are viewed as bad people, bandits. A young male street
vendor from Whitfield Town said, “It is an area ting and where yuh live. See man as a gang
and gun ting. Dats how dem [loan places] luk pon it” (Translation: The area where a person
lives stereotypes them. Men are seen as gangsters. That is how MFIs see them). Both location
and social status, they argued, are regarded by
lenders as aspects of character and used to
stigmatize them and to exclude them from
loans. Yet, these managers were given
subsidized funds to provide micro-credit to
the financially marginalized in the slums.196
Residents in the PNP and JLP
shantytowns cannot get jobs because of where
they live. Hustlas from PNP and JLP strongholds told me: “[. . .] yuh come fram 11, 12, 13,
14, yuh can’t get dem money” ([. . .] you will not get a loan).197
In Denham Town, Puncy, a
196 About 42% (n=32) of the microfinance managers disagreed that discrimination may be taking place against
certain hustlas. Gray (2004, 103) argues that urban areas are segregated and a sub-culture referred to as
“badness-honour” develops among people excluded from general society. 197
These numbers are area codes that refer to a garrison community in downtown Kingston.
Explanation for why a hustla
cannot get a micro loan?
“Area where you live—eyebrow go
up, dey luk at yuh, den di body
language start and a long story wid a
whole heap a paper work to break
your spirit. Yuh know yuh nat
gettin’ dem money.”
Owner of a seamstress shop, Arnett
Gardens
151
54-year-old business woman, believes that before she even applies for a loan the workers
have already “stereotype that wi won’t pay back.” Even though most lenders (99%, n = 73)
acknowledged systemic discrimination against slum dwellers, they themselves do not hire
people from the downtown areas. Others less overtly set qualifications that are out of reach
for most persons living in the slum. A senior microfinance professional (non-Black)
advanced this personal justification for such exclusion: “Persons from downtown may
collude with one another against the program. I can’t work with them.” (Anonymous
Interview, 15 April 2009). An assumption here on the part of micro lenders who practice
such exclusion is that ghetto residents will collectively thwart the effectiveness of the
program by failing to make borrowers repay loans or, if hired, by working together against
the program.
As discussed in the first section, some microfinance managers simply do not trust
people from these marginalized areas. Employment requirements for entry-level positions
such as loan officers are made so difficult that slum residents cannot qualify. For example, a
leading micro lender, JNSBLL, requires that a loan officer own a car and possess both a
university degree and advanced computer skills (Webber Interview, 13 March 2009; Whylie
Interview, 24 February 2009). These are requirements that the poor cannot in most cases
meet. Loan officers do not come from the slums, and they bring prejudices with them in their
professional interactions with these communities. A JNSBLL client from Tivoli rightfully
asked, “How does a young gyal fram uptown know [about] life ’ere?” Thus, this lack of trust
works both ways.
152
Middle-class Jamaicans are hesitant to discuss race, but people downtown—that is,
those who live in the slums—debate race and class politics continually. Very dark skin
colour or kinky hair appear to be a reason for discrimination. Comments such as “If I had
pretty hair [. . .] ” or “[. . .] a nice colour (meaning lighter-skin), I would get a loan” were
common.198
All male hustlas interviewed in Maxfield Park (100%, n = 35) and Whitfield
Town (100%, n = 29) also felt their gender affected their access to micro-credit. Table 3.5
documents discrimination based on social class (reflected in neighbourhood of residence,
language, and education), race (including hair and skin colour), and gender.
Table 3.5 Types of Discrimination by Slum as Expressed by Interviewees
Maxfield
Park
Whitfield
Town
Arnett
Gardens
Denham
Town
Rosetown Tivoli
Gardens
Total
In-depth interviews 22 29 33 15 31 26 156
Class (e.g., location,
patois, education)
9 8 13 6 16 14 66
Race (e.g., race, hair,
skin colour)
6 12 3 0 2 1 24
Gender 3 4 5 0 1 3 16
Anti-male
Discrimination %
100% 100% 83% 60% 73% 57% 75%
Discrimination % 82% 83% 64% 40% 61% 69% 68%
Micro-credit elsewhere is usually introduced to empower marginalized people, often
persons with limited or no formal education; yet microfinance managers blame clients for
198 Hustlas in these two slums argued that microfinance managers were not Black and some countered “as Black
as me” (because of their lighter skin complexion). 99% (n=233) of the hustlas I met with were very dark-
skinned Afro-Jamaicans.
153
low education levels. An MP representing an urban slum in the study remarked to me,
“People downtown cannot navigate MFIs with standard English because they simply lack
education and use patois.”199
Hustlas from Arnett Gardens stated in a focus group that males
tend to speak in patois (Jamaican English) more frequently than their female counterparts,
who “put on” a twang as needed. Stakeholders interviewed argued that the claimed
significance of determined language variation or jargon is in fact a ploy to exclude some
hustlas (Gray 2004, 93).
Big Men Interference in Microfinance
In this section of the chapter, I demonstrate that partisan politics is not just external to
microfinance but operates inside it. Clientelism, where Big Men reward poor people
financially, remains part of the current politics in a hustla’s environment. These rewards,
which include micro loans, provide important welfare assistance (Tafari-Ama 2006, 189).
This type of informal politics involving the expectation of political support/loyalty in
exchange for a loan is the reason hustlas exclude themselves from politicized microfinance
programs controlled by Dons and politicians. Big Men—especially Dons—make loans with
severe consequences for non-payment (Discussions Harriott, April–August 2009). Hustlas
discover that if they participate in micro banking, they become beholden—or, to use their
expression, “binded”—to the Big Men, a situation that can be life-threatening. Don
involvement in micro lending is seen by hustlas to be a dangerous collusion, and for this
reason citizens would prefer to “hustle” on their own, without inputs from anybody.
199Again there appeared a bias for formal bookkeeping as opposed to counting in one’s head, which Collins et
al. (2009) find that the poor do with accuracy.
154
MPs interfere with the allocation of microfinance resources through the (mis)use of
state resources to influence MFIs to lend to constituents based on a political referral. Hustlas
are aware of the ties between MPs and the microfinance lenders. Citizens in the downtown
slums recognize lenders and see them involved in partisan activism by listening to the radio,
attending weekly community meetings, reading newspapers, watching the news on
television, and going to micro banking events in the community. At a public micro-credit
event, an invited higgler recognized a microfinance leader immediately as a member of the
PNP. 200
While some managers do not recognize the negative impact their partisan politics
have in microfinance, other lenders do, and these are opposed to colleagues being active in
partisan politics (Anonymous Interviews, 13 March and 8 May 2009). But the fact that
certain micro lenders are allied with a political party is no secret in the community.
Yet donors (such as the IDB) continue to endow politically active persons running
microfinance organizations, and these actions replicate the clientelistic Big Man politics in
microfinance. Certain micro lenders who work downtown do so in ways that support their
own political interests. As mentioned before, hustlas, especially those who are anti-partisan,
such as in Denham Town and Arnett Gardens, recognize this behaviour, and they will
withdraw from such programs. The message to hustlas is that the micro banker is political. In
my interviews, hustlas (in the six slums) categorized microfinance lenders by political party
according to where they worked or who was leading the institution.201
200 I witnessed this recognition happen at a few events where a hustla would whisper to me where they had met,
and it was usually at a political gathering. 201
See my first section, and the description of micro lenders, for perhaps why there are such perceived
connections on the part of hustlas.
155
Several of the micro lenders I interviewed recounted stories in which politicians
referred constituents for micro loans that resulted in loan defaults. Most citizens regard loans
that are given through political referrals not as funds that are repaid with interest but as
monetary entitlements. It becomes morally hazardous for retailers when an MP’s
involvement is known (that is, when people do not repay these loans); understandably, then,
retailers do not openly admit their collaboration with politicians.202
Once a microfinance
organization has accepted political referrals/funds from a politician or is publicly identified
with one of the major parties, hustlas view the organization as politicized. A CIDA manager
said, “There are political aspects, very much so, in the microfinance industry, and
understanding how people (microfinance managers/staff) connect to each other can explain
partisanship in the sector” (CIDA meeting, 10 July 2009). As this statement shows, donors
are aware of the alliances between micro bankers and politicians, but they did not appear too
concerned.
Client referrals from a politician pose a risk for lenders. One microfinance staff
person at a leading retailer recounted a politician’s referral to their institution: “People come
and say my MP sent me. And once persons were approved for the loans, all loans were
written off as not a single person repaid the loan” (Anonymous Interview). It is thus
understandable that bankers would not want to highlight this relationship. In effect, lenders
tolerate capitalization from politicians as long as they believe hustlas are not aware of this
relationship.
202 The banking term “moral hazard” refers to loss of profits when neutrality is compromised, e.g., political
interference.
156
Politicians see the value of allocating financial resources to micro loan projects in the
communities they represent (Kah, Olds, Kah 2005, 25). The Constituency Development Fund
(CDF), valued at USD $233,000, was part of the former prime minister Bruce Golding’s
manifesto during his campaign to assist MPs in carrying out development projects (Francis
and Two Managers Interviews, 22 July 2009).203
Community experts at the Social
Development Commission (SDC) and Jamaican Social Investment Fund (JSIF) question why
resources are siphoned off budgets of existing social agencies and directed towards
politicians (SDC Interviews, September and October 2009; Shaw Interview, 2 April 2009;
Jamaica Observer, 26 October 2010).204
Political elites who invest in local banks do so with the sole purpose of controlling
citizens located in the garrisons. A local academic (who will not be named) who consults at
Jamaica House confirmed that the “CDF is operational in microfinance and it is wired [set
up] to channel funds to politicians from the very beginning.” The person continued, “I know
this for a fact. Anyways, this is no secret.” In other words, politicians want to channel money
as cash payments, which they call “micro loans,” to constituents through the banks. This
arrangement enables the politicians, especially those representing garrisons, to demonstrate
that they are helping activists through referrals and at the same time to show critics that they
are legitimately lending to the poor.
203 The CDF program staff at the Office of the Prime Minister (OPM) confirmed that under the rubric
“Economic Enablement and Social and Human Development” politicians use CDF to capitalize micro loan
programs. Senior CDF managers confirmed that CDF is now JMD $20 million per MP, 5 October 2009. See
Arthur Hall’s article in The Gleaner on 25 September 2009. 204
CDF monies earmarked for local development duplicates the work of agencies like the Social Development
Commission (SDC) and Jamaica Social Investment Fund (JSIF) already active in the ghettos. See more in the
Jamaica Observer, “Bad News: Parallel Institutions Competing with the SDC.” 26 October 2010. See more at:
http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/news/Bad-news--Parallel-institutions-competing-with-the-SDC_8089335
157
Politicians approach bankers they know, and whom they assume share the same party
interests, to work with them to make micro loans available to their constituents. In theory,
such a relationship, where cash-strapped lenders can access more capital for microfinance,
does not seem problematic. However, given Jamaica’s history (see Chapter 2) of Big Men
conferring monies to the urban poor for political favours, it would seem that politicians have
simply found a new medium to replicate the old system. The slum communities I worked in
are all strongholds of either one of the two major parties, and the politicized nature of these
constituencies is such that certain loan programs are complicit in the perpetuation of
clientelist politics. Some bankers take capital from elected officials hoping that this
information is not open to the public, but politicians are less discreet because they want
assurances that their party followers benefit from the money.
More than half of the hustlas getting a loan, (19%, n = 44) said they received the
loans due to their political activism. While the relationship between politicians and micro
bankers is well-known in the garrisons,many senior officials at Jamaica House managing
development policy appeared unaware that the CDF is directed to small business lending
(Anonymous Interviews at OPM, 22 July 2009, Names withheld on purpose). Indeed, at my
initial contact with officials in the development office at Jamaica House, no one could
confirm CDF activity in microfinance. Citizens, hustlas in particular, were the first people
who brought to my attention the use of CDF in microfinance when they expressed concern
that the fund was being used to reward party followers. Key informants (in the slums),
advised me to look for a CDF office at Jamaica House, where I found, unbeknownst to the
development experts there, an entire program dedicated to CDF. Through my meeting with
158
the CDF team, I was able to discover which politicians endowed micro lenders. Table 3.6
summarized the four elected representatives who channel the CDF to selected micro lenders.
Table 3.6 Constituency Development Funds (CDF): Political Parties and Micro Lenders
(2009)
Community MP and Political Party Micro Lender
Arnett Gardens Omar Davies, PNP JNSBLL
St. Andrew Western205
George Hylton, PNP CCCUL
Whitfield Town Portia Simpson-Miller, PNP (now PM) JBDC
Maxfield Park Peter Philips, PNP JNSBLL
Politicians have the power to blacklist citizens who do not campaign for them. “Rasta
Lady,” a pudding seller, reported that the requirement to receive loans is party activism and
that the local politician penalizes citizens who are not active (e.g., go to rallies) by not
referring them for a loan. In Maxfield Park, party activist and business woman “Peta-Gaye,”
who is a 26-year-old grocery shop owner, claimed that her political representative referred
her to the bank where she now holds a micro loan (Focus group, 20 March 2010). In Arnett
Gardens, “X,” a 39-year-old single mother and owner of a haberdashery shop, is convinced
that her party connections helped her receive two micro loans (Interview, 16 May 2009). “X”
learned about the microfinance program at party meetings, where she was able to ask the MP
for a referral (Interview, 16 May 2009).206
In Upper Rosetown, “Colonel” (a former gunman
to a politician) said he accessed microfinance because of his relationship with the political
205 St. Andrew Western is a PNP constituency where CCCUL plans to be active because of a personal contact
with the MP, and this MP provides CDF to CCCUL. 206
I decided to omit the location of these people and to slightly modify the aliases of these persons to protect the
subjects.
159
liaison person (Interview, 13 May 2009). “Dragon,” who owns a small grocery shop, claims
that she can access finance from her party leader (Interview, 1 May 2009). Aside from these
few persons, most hustlas in this case were not party activists. To me, party activists seemed
to access credit more easily than those who were less politically active.
When microfinance is dispensed by politicians (e.g., via CDF), its neutrality is
compromised, corrupting the goal of that sector to ensure fair, inclusive, and equitable
development finance programs. One micro lender said, “At a party fundraiser, the PNP
candidate [who has access to CDF] asked us [the retailer cannot be named] to become their
bank in the community. This is a great opportunity.” This microfinance director grew up in a
PNP constituency. Another MP (who cannot be named) said he gave a major micro lender,
JNSBLL the sum of USD $81,395 from the CDF, justifying it as follows: “I am tired of
giving people J$5,000 [USD $58] and then the same people show up asking for money again
the next day.” It is not clear from this politician’s response how giving funds to an MFI will
resolve this issue. Not all micro lenders have access to these funds, because politicians
provide funding selectively to the microfinance lenders they feel best serve their interests.
Nevertheless, citizens see micro lenders who accept these funds as aligned with the
politicians from whom they received the funds.
Critics of the CDF program suggest that it functions as patronage, or “pork barrel
politics,” giving politicians the power to allocate state resources (i.e., micro-credit) where
they see fit (Anonymous interviews, between August to October 2009).207
One MP asked a
207 A CDF manager claims that there is “financial jealousy” between the competing state agencies over the
limited resources (Interview, 22 July 2009) whereas state social officers see the CDF fund as politicized.
160
politically active private firm to carry out economic development planning (Anonymous
Interview, 13 March 2009). Within the government, employees perceive CDF in
microfinance as clientelist politics because both politicians (and party activists) can
manipulate the system to use the funds for purposes of obtaining political support
(Anonymous Interview, 29 July 2009).208
Dons: Important Micro Bankers in the Kingston’s Slums
In certain downtown communities, local bosses (Dons), in a power structure parallel
to the state, control the community. Dons have informal power in slum communities, and
although they are not officially considered part of the micro lending landscape, they have
become a type of informal micro lender of considerable importance because they provide low
cost loans to the poor and use their informal power to ensure that borrowers repay loans
Anonymous Interview, 29 September 2009).
Microfinance lenders in turn benefit from this informal power because the fear of
Dons ensures that clients repay their loans. However, Don presence in micro banking
compromises the social empowerment aspect of the original intent of microfinance, which
was to not only assist the poor economically but to improve of the quality of life. Lenders use
the Don-Controlled structure in slums, where fear controls people, to ensure excellent
portfolio performance by allying with the Dons (whose influence is widespread). In doing so,
they go against the very social mission of the micro-credit movement.
208 Confidentiality is required for certain Jamaicans who fear retribution: One person remarked candidly,
“Where do you live? Toronto. Well, I have to live here.”
161
Informal power stems from a number of factors. Unlike politicians, Dons, who grow
up in these slum communities, know what motivates poor people and can use this to ensure
their compliance. Dons are very aware that hustlas, through selling in the informal sector,
struggle to survive financially, and that there is no money for downtown businesses (and
consumption). By making micro loans available to residents, Dons increase both their own
popularity and their power. Several hustlas and stakeholders told me that for Dons, making
micro loans is another way for them to launder earnings: to “wash dirty money” from the
illicit drugs and weapons trade (McKenzie Interview, 29 September 2009; “Ms. Fatty”
Interview, 15 July 2009; “Browning” Interview, 7 May 2009; “Novlette” Interview, 30
March 2009; Webber Interview, 13 March 2009). Recipients pay back Don-issued loans
(usually no paperwork and flexible terms) because people know the consequences should
they default (Anonymous Tivoli Interview, 29 September 2009; McKenzie Interview, 29
September 2009).209
Micro lenders traverse dangerous social territory when they use unethical practices
(e.g., Dons in the Jamaica case) to advance their own businesses (Turner Interview, 1 June
2009; Troupe Interview, 31 March 2009; Bennett Interview, 16 March 2009; Rahman 1999,
70). In my case study, I found that some micro lenders (such as JNSBLL, COKCU) lend to
former/current criminals or gang members, complicating access for citizens who do not want
to be involved with criminals.210
A microfinance officer stated that when ordinary people see
209 I carried out follow-up interviews (September and October 2009) informally with civil society experts at
SDC who work in downtown Kingston to verify these findings. 210
On several occasions, research assistants of mine were hesitant to attend interviews of a certain microfinance
client because they knew the subject as a gangster. Aliases such as “Colonel” or “Shotta” sometimes refers to an
area leader, gunman or gang leader.
162
a “Badman” (gangster) paying back his loan on time, a message is sent to other clients to do
the same. One micro-credit project that works with Don(s) in the area does so to ensure their
staff has “zero problems.” At a field agent training in a slum community, the director
boasted, “A Don’s support means that the project would be free from defaulting clients
(Training for credit officers, 7 March 2009).” An alliance with the Don structure assures the
microfinance project that clients will not default on loans. However, this link between micro
lenders and the criminal underworld shows that the current form of lending to the poor in
Jamaica is operating in a negative fashion. To non-political hustlas, this seeming collusion
with Dons makes micro-credit less trustworthy.
One project in a downtown community reported that when their computers were
stolen by youth, the Don made sure all the items were returned and offered to have his men
break the thief’s legs (Morgan Interview, 27 March 2009). This form of justice—“jungle
justice”—is a phenomenon known in several downtown communities (Hutchinson Interview,
29 September 2009; Stultz Interview, 1 March 2009; Duncan-Waite and Woolcock 2008, 27;
Robotham 2003, 216). However, choosing to not work with informal leaders creates limits to
the work an outsider can do in these controlled communities (Anonymous Discussions at
JSIF and SDC, August 2009; Morgan Interview, 25 March 2009). Microfinance
organizations say that being forced to go through Dons and informal bosses further
marginalizes poor business people, subjugating them to an undemocratic order (Interviews
with Community leaders and Civil Society Experts, SDC field staff; Robotham 2003, 216;
Charles 2002).
163
I determined that while those at the organizational top of these institutions may or
may not agree with donships, frontline staff nonetheless use the informal system to do their
professional work effectively and to reach determined economic targets or bonuses (Rogaly
1996, 106). One manager, confirming that his program made micro loans available to
projects owned by Dons, made no apologies for this fact (CAPRI event, 26 October 2009).211
Microfinance lenders operating in the slums will work through the informal political
structure because they recognize the Dons’ power to make borrowers repay their loans.
Certain microfinance lenders, aware of oppressive social conditions in the garrisons,
use informal politics for their own interests: for example, to get personal bonuses. One senior
microfinance manager stated, “Our program is fine in Tivoli Gardens because of the Don.”
Another loan staff reported, “Dons can make people repay their loans.” Staff persons thus
benefit from the people’s fear of the Don. A young hustla in Tivoli Gardens recounted that a
loan officer warned her, “I hope that nothing will happen to you if the Don finds out about
this [unpaid loan]” (Anonymous Bar owner Interview, July 2009). Microfinance staff persons
use such statements to scare hustlas because they want their loans repaid on time; and while
hustlas are aware of this motivation, they usually do not realize that these staff persons also
need loans repaid to get their bonuses.
Not only microfinance lenders, but some clients also use donships to ensure
discipline. MCL (a micro lender) reported that clients in Spanish Town go directly to the Don
(not the MFI) if a member of a group loan defaults on a loan because they see the Don
211 At a CAPRI seminar (26 October 2009), a microfinance leader stated that his organization had to work with
the various Dons in his communities because of the local context. Another micro banker objected to working
through Dons and felt that such activity further marginalized the poor.
164
capable of forcing the defaulting person to honour his/her debt (Interview, 28 September
2009). In the example above, the microfinance staff person stated, “We have no control over
this. Clients will go to the Don [to resolve conflicts].” An international consultant from
MicroRate (a U.S.-based firm), on evaluating a micro lender, commented that donship is
good for repayment (Meeting, 28 September 2009). The support from the Don, who was able
to ensure that people repay loans, thus resulted in a positive rating for the lender.212
Informal
politics is so entrenched in some places that clients, especially political ones, see the Big
Man as the only person to fix any issue (Duncan-Waite and Woolcock 2008, 28-29). And,
lenders tap into informal systems to make sure that their institutions attain high repayment
rates.
Black Women’s Agency in Partner Banks
In a context of political interference in loan programs for the poor, smll business
people seek greater autonomy through informal banks (known as rotating savings and credit
associations [ROSCAs] to provide financial services for people excluded from conventional
banks (Anderson et al. 2009; Rutherford 2000; Handa and Kirton 1999; Ardener and Burman
1996; Rogaly 1996; Geertz 1962). The informal banks in the Caribbean are a valued African
tradition, rooted in the local saving systems “susus” and “tontines” brought by slaves to the
Americas. Yet little has been written on this institution (McKenzie Interview, 12 July 2009;
Stultz Interview, 25 March 2009; Stewart Interview, 16 March 2009; Handa and Kirton
1999; Besson 1996). This final section examines Jamaican women’s agency in forming
212 Information revealed during a consulting assignment to a microfinance retailer, which was being appraised
by Micro Rate, an American firm, 28 September 2009.
165
community banks in response to politicized loan programs. Though some hustlas use
political referrals to get access to microfinance, the majority of them are non-political.
Jamaican Partner (also referred to as “Partna”) is where poor people, particularly
women, pool money. This activity, organized by women, evidences agency within contexts
of oppression, and therefore has political implications. However, the literature ignores the
political implications of this mobilization of capital by poor (usually uneducated) women
(Collins et al. 2009). Partner banks are so popular among hustlas that the large retailers, such
as BNSJ and JNBSLL, have replicated the system, now offering a product called the “partner
plan” (Handa and Kirton 1999).
People create informal banks to meet their cash flow needs; but in the Jamaica case,
when they take hold of each other’s wealth and rotate these funds among themselves, they
are also resisting political efforts (Gray 2003a, 15). As mentioned earlier in this chapter, 41%
(n = 96) of hustlas self-exclude or opt out of loan programs that they view as political.
Certain microfinance programs are perceived as engaging in attempts to exercise political
control over borrowers—that is, taking the loan involves a commitment to actively support a
particular political party. Jamaicans, refusing to become in involved in politics through
business loans, exercise political resistance by participating in informal community-owned
banks.
Local banking programs reduce the need for compliance of business people with
patrons demands (Shakes Interview, 30 September 2009; Hutchinson Interview, 29 July
2009; Scott 1977, 1972). As noted earlier, 94% (n = 220) of hustlas in Don-dominated
communities said that material rewards given by Dons came with consequences. Believing
166
lending to be politicized (misused by lenders), these hustlas view it as a deceitful economic
system—a “fraud ting”—in which micro lenders are not to be trusted.
Contrary to public opinion, the data in this case shows that hustlas avoid manipulation
by microfinance managers, politicians, and Dons in microfinance, and many persons exclude
themselves if they perceive that these loans are linked to partisan politics. Scott (19771;
1972) suggests that compliance within a patron-client relationship depends on how important
the patron’s services are to the client. Hustlas actively resist this type of relationship, and,
because of the critical importance of loans to survival, turn to Partner banks to meet their
livelihood needs. Micro business persons interviewed stated that “Partna is fi wi, and bank is
fi di big man uptown”—that is, the Partner bank is for the poor (us) and formal banks are for
the rich. At least 82% (n = 191 out of 233) of the hustlas I interviewed “throw partna”
(participate in Partner).213
Informal banks are popular among people around the world because of the low
transaction costs, easy access to money, and lack of formalities (Collins et al. 2009, 53;
Rutherford 2000, 32; Handa and Kirton 1999). In the Jamaica interviews, 57% (n = 133) of
entrepreneurs regarded Partner as the financial model that best meets their needs, that has “no
rigmarole” (paper work), that is trustworthy, and that provides easy access. While the
formalized microfinance programs lack “embeddedness” with people, Partner is there for the
hustlas when nobody else is.
213 Handa and Kirton (1999) surveyed one thousand people in Kingston, and found that 75% of the people in
partna were Black women between the ages of 26 and 35; most clients threw Partner for an average of nine
years.
167
Can’t say nuff ’bout it [partner banks]. Yuh see dat fridge [. . .]
partna. Yuh see dat hair blower [. . .] partna. Yuh see dat T.V. [. . .]
Partna, partna, partna buy mi all disya.
(I cannot say enough about Partner banks. By joining a partner bank,
I was able to buy a fridge, hair-dryer and T.V. Partner helped me
save and buy all these items). Marcia, a 34-year-old home-based
hairdresser, Trench Town
Miss Paddy—an elderly lady slum-dweller who owns a cook shop that serves fried
chicken, rice, and peas—has never held a bank account at a commercial bank or credit union.
She is one of the thousands of Jamaican hustlas living in tenement yards downtown who do
not have the birth certificate required to open a bank account. People like Miss Paddy turn to
the local “banka lady” (informal banker), women who run local financial banks where
unbankable hustlas can get access to money.214
For Miss Paddy, “partna” means inclusive
finance.
People engage in Partner banks because they trust the women who run them (Besson
1996). Partner is embedded in the traditions and emotions of the urban poor and it allows
people to launch their micro enterprises through access to a lump sum of cash needed for
their big ticket purchases, like a fridge or stove. Partna generally involves a group of people
who know each other well and who pool their money (Three Banker Ladies Interviews,
March–July 2009; Klak and Hey 1992; Katzin 1959, 439). Several variants of the partna
bank exist, and although most are saving plans, some include lending features. The Banker
ladies also called “Banka ladies” interviewed were three single mothers with limited
schooling who managed these banks with at least one hundred clients. In Table 3.7, two of
214 Banka ladies are also referred to as “champions” (Frontier Finance International, 1999)
168
the banka ladies, Nicki and Charm, had loans but Carlyn never had a micro loan because she
felt that microfinance was led by MPs who excluded her because she refused to vote.
Table 3.7 Synopsis of the Interviews with Three Banker Ladies in the Slums
Banker: Location and
Experience
Bio Data Type of Plans
“Nicki,” 30 years old; Tel
Aviv (JLP area); banker for 10
years
Her mother was a
higgler and Partner
banker.
1. Daily partna: A daily deposit of USD$2.30 for
three months. 2. Weekly partner: A weekly deposit
of $23 for six weeks. 3. Kid’s partner: A deposit of
50 cents every day for four months.
“Charm,” 38 years old; Arnett
Gardens (PNP area); banker
for 10 years
She is a high school
dropout.
1. Daily Partner: Fixed deposit daily for three
months. 2. Two weekly partners (includes diaspora
members): Contribute $11 weekly for six months.
“Carlyn” 39 years old;
Maxfield Park (PNP area); banker for 20 years
She is well known in
the community for not
voting.
All weekly plans, 32-week cycle. Best clients are
young males.
Source: Interviews, from March to July 2009.
The Banka lady decides who gets access to the lump sum first, and she assesses the
person’s risks for defaulting, as a trained loans officer would do. In some partna systems,
people draw lots to determine the order for obtaining a loan (Three Banker Ladies Interview,
March to July 2009; Rutherford 2000; Handa and Kirton 1999; Geertz 1962). Each person’s
contribution to the partna is called a “hand” and it is “thrown” for a designated period of
time; the pooled money is called a “draw.” Peer dynamics ensure people comply with
payment rules, and social sanctions are applied in the case of default.
169
Micro lenders argue that the practice of group loans is not successful in this context.
Yet Jamaicans join informal banks (group banking). Gray (2004, 83) asserts that people in
the slums are very
close and intent on
helping one another.
Figure 3.7 presents
Partner as the
lending model that
most people (57%, n
= 133 out of 233)
claim meets their
needs. The banker
ladies interviewed claim that repayment rates are high (usually 100%) because people trust
these systems (Interviews, March to July 2009). Black women’s agency in resisting lending
arrangements that control them politically are possible through alternative sources of
financing.
Conclusion
Many Jamaicans are quick to say, “Politics is in almost every aspect of Jamaican
life.” If politics is embedded in everyday life, and it is assumed to be prevalent in political
strongholds, how can a public resource such as microfinance remain, as the managers would
like to argue it is, free of clientelistic politics? Contrary to the views of most donors and
experts alike, politics is deeply embedded in microfinance. The fact that microfinance
170
managers claim that class bias does not interfere in micro lending is what makes the case so
intriguing. Micro-credit’s reputation of inclusive finance is compromised by the class and
race biases of microfinance managers and the clientelist practices of Big Men. And hustlas
resist being controlled by politicized lenders, where party affiliations seemingly influence
where microfinance operates and who gets it. The (perceived) act of micro bankers colluding
with Dons or politicians is a violation of the supposed role of microfinance in helping poor
entrepreneurs self-develop—not only economically but also socially.
The fact that people’s lives downtown are entangled in informal politics is not new.
But when informal politics emerges in microfinance programs, this negatively complicates
the lives of the poor. Most hustlas are not partisan and nor do they want charity from Big
Men. They seek to avoid the manipulative component of loan programs and they turn to
Partner not only to cope with their financial requirements, but as a political act of resisting
the grasp of Big Men (Raeymaekers 2009; Harrison 1988).
Exclusionary microfinance is taking place in the Jamaica case because politically
inclined class-identified managers discriminate against certain hustlas over their class
(location, language/education), race (skin colour, hair), and gender (anti-male bias). Yet it is
the apparent, the collusion of MFIs with questionable actors that lead many eligible business
people to to avoid certain financial programs. The informal politics that is a component of
microfinance blocks the potential for social empowerment. In spite of these challenges,
however, the female hustlas’ tenacity in working independently, their enthusiasm for Partner
banks, and their rejection of politicized sources of financing are what makes their story so
compelling.
171
Chapter 4 The Guyana Case: Racial Exclusion in Micro Banking
“Traditional difficulties are multiplied in heterogeneous societies
where ethnic, cultural, political and gender discrimination play a role
in distorting the pattern of financing.” (Thomas 1993, 5)
Introduction
Race politics in Guyana arose out of the enslavement period and was manifested in
the independence era. Since independence, control of resources has swung back and forth
between the two dominant ethnic groups: Afros and Indos (Gibson 2006, 372; In the Sky’s
Wild Noise film 1983; Rodney 1981, 174).215
Nowhere in the country is race not an issue. It
is the issue that divides the populace. Although the micro lenders I met with stated that they
adhere to the principles of microfinance to create access to finance for excluded people,
Guyanese economist C.Y. Thomas, in his quote above, argues that in an ethnically diverse
country, the likelihood of lending being discriminatory against certain identities is high.
Micro lenders in Guyana operate under a racialized political environment. For the past
twenty years, the East Indian (hereafter Indian or Indo) political leaders of the People’s
Progressive Party (PPP) have dominated the national stage, and a policy bias excludes Afro-
Guyanese from economic resources.
The political ascendancy of Indo-Guyanese has enabled this racial group’s power and
control over economic resources, and the systemic discrimination against Afro-Guyanese
people denies them access to social and finance services (Gibson 2005, 8; In the Sky’s Wild
Noise flim 1983). PPP’s president Bharrat Jagdeo (2006-2011), privileged the rural Indian
215 Gibson (2005, 11) makes a compelling point that the major population shift has been the decrease in the
number of (self-designated) Blacks and the increase in the mixed-race category since 1993 because Afro-
Guyanese citizens choose the “mixed race” racial category due to the “dehumanizing” treatment of Blacks.
172
political constituency and alienated Black hucksters in urban areas (Benschop Interview, 7
May 2007; Currie Interview, 3 May 2010; Philips Interview, 30 April 2010; Garner 2008,
102).216
Williams, Cummings, and Marshall (2007, 106) find that Afro-Guyanese are
systematically left out of economic programs and experience a high level of stress over not
having enough money to live on. Indeed, hucksters interviewed in this case claim that they
are under “pressure” and “stress” because deliberate government programming discriminates
against them as a people.
Although it is widely agreed that a racialized hierarchy dominated by Indo-Guyanese
favours Indos and limits Black people’s access to economic resources (Williams, Cummings
and Marshall 2007, 106; Hintzen 1989, 23), a report by McGarrell (2010) examining
micro/small businesses in Guyana makes no mention of the blatant discrimination against
Afro-Guyanese business people. In addition, most (70%, n = 8) micro bankers (mainly
Indians) fail to see race discrimination as relevant in microfinance. However, all Black
hucksters (n = 17) interviewed in an urban slum of Allbouystown said they are discriminated
against because of their race and ethnicity (Interviews April 2008; Garner 2008, 204).
Microfinance in Guyana thus exists within a racially polarized political environment,
where the Indo-led authoritarian state, the PPP, siphons economic resources away from the
Afro-Guyanese and allocates resources to the Indian base (Gibson 2006, 377). I argue that in
such a context, where there is no power-sharing, cultural narratives subjugate and
disadvantage Black hucksters and prevent them from accessing micro loans. Findings show
216 Owning land is important to the Indian electorate, and the PPP state has introduced subsidized interest rates
on mortgages.
173
that micro lenders (most of whom are Indos) discriminate racially against Afros hucksters,
and that these attitudes support the state’s policy of economic exclusion. In response, Afro
hucksters, like their Jamaican counterparts, when marginalized by microfinance managers,
rely on community banks to meet their financial needs (Besson 1996, 264).
For decades, racial bias has structured politics, allowing Indian political elites to
“justify” their inherent biases.217
Indo-Guyanese point out that when former Afro-Guyanese
president Forbes Burnham of the People’s National Congress (PNC) was in power (1980–
1985), he pursued policies that provided benefits to Blacks. However, Burnham’s
undemocratic regime only assisted certain Afro-Guyanese, and his policies excluded most of
the urban poor (Afros), who then turned to huckstering (self-employment). During these
years, Afro-Guyanese contributed to vibrant local markets under this repressive state (St.
Pierre 1999, 70). In 1986, the new president Desmond Hoyte (1985-1992), did focus on
micro and small enterprise development (Currie Interview, 3 May 2010; Persaud Interview,
19 April 2009; Garner 2008, 204), to support small businesses that assisted Afro and Indo
Guyanese alike. But in 1992 Cheddi Jagan’s Indian PPP came into power, and he diverted
patronage to the Indo-Guyanese voting base in the rural areas and big business. Policy-
making since the PPP came to power has moved away from supporting poor business owners
(Kissoon Interview, 7 May 2010; Pimp Juice Interview, 27 April 2010; Bourda market
vendor Interview, 22 April 2010).
217 Barrow-Giles (2002, 209) doubts that the government is concerned about the poor given the rigged elections
and racial politics of Indian political elites.
174
Most of the Indo-Guyanese stakeholders and micro lenders (those who claim to
support the promise of microfinance) interviewed in this case study (75%, n = 16) made
negative and/or racist comments about Black business people. A widespread cultural myth is
that Afro-Guyanese are not business-minded. While rich Indian business families such as the
Gafoors or the Beharis are given as examples of self-sacrificing and hard-working Indians,
no equivalent Afro-Guyanese business person is ever named (Scott Interview, 13 May 2010;
Kissoon and Benschop Interviews, 6 May 2010; Bristol Interview, 4 May 2010).
Guyanese Indians’ racist comments about Afro-Guyanese appear to be generally
accepted. A booklet titled Rebirth of the Blackman by Accabre Nkofi (no date), given to me
by an Indo businessman and in circulation in Georgetown in 2010, reinforces racist views
and sets up binaries: Afros as “bad” and Indos as “good” (Samaroo Interview, 14 May 2010).
The 2009 collapse of Globe Trust, owned by rich Afro-Guyanese investors, further
reinforced the stereotype of Blacks as inferior in finance and business.218
However,
University of Guyana’s Freddie Kissoon (2010a), in an article in the national newspaper,
Kaieteur News, challenges the position that Indos are more culturally apt for business than
Afros. Kissoon’s position, taken by many Afro-Guyanese stakeholders (civil society experts,
community activists, business people, academics) (n = 40), blames the former Burnham
regime for the public perception that Blacks are non-entrepreneurial, corrupt, and reliant on
state hand-outs.
218 Globe Trust, an investment company founded by an Afro-Guyanese, was liquidated in October 2009. See
more on the fall of Globe Trust in the Stabroek paper:
http://www.stabroeknews.com/2010/stories/05/05/liquidator-signals-%E2%80%98beginning-of-
end%E2%80%99-for-globe-trust/
175
The first section of this chapter discusses the background of Indian domination in
microfinance. The next section gives a race analysis of the attitudes of the micro lenders.
Findings for this case are based on a relatively small sample size of 79 interviews conducted
in November 2008, and April and May 2010. (Table 1.2 in chapter 1 provides a breakdown
of interviews for Guyana). In the third section, I analyze the perspectives of 29 hucksters
(mostly Afro-Guyanese) in the slum community of Allbouystown, Georgetown (See
Appendix 2.1). The last section examines the organization of informal banks, such as Box
hand and Penny Bank, by hucksters. These banks provide a morale booster, tapping into
community-owned resources when people are denied access to economic resources.
In the 2006 IDB Report, Guyanese micro entrepreneurs accounted for 58,327 of the
registered businesses in the country (Navagas and Tejerina 2006). Yet as of May 2010,
microfinance reached about 10% (about 6,000) micro enterprises (Fieldwork, April and May
2010; Navajas and Tejerina 2006). Like Jamaica’s case, Guyana’s industry lacks agreement
on the definition of “micro” and “small” businesses.219
Since 1988, the national association,
Guyana’s Small Business Association (GSBA) has been headed by an Afro-Muslim. The
organization is weak, and as of May 2010 had a membership of only 215 people. Those close
to the industry (who ask not to be named) suggest that GBSA is under-funded and lacks
political support from the Indian-led government because of its Black (Muslim)
leadership.220
Unlike the Private Sector Commission, made up of rich businessmen of
Indian, Portuguese, and Chinese, the state reluctantly created a Small Business Council in
219 Refer to chapter 1 for the definition.
220 See the Stabroek article (2010) for more information on the GBSA at
http://www.stabroeknews.com/2010/business/05/14/whither-the-guyana-small-business-association/
176
2010 made up of technocrats with no private-sector experience (Anonymous Interview, 5
May 2010).
In a report commissioned by the government on micro and small business (McGarrell
2010) there is no mention of the influence of racial bias on the allocation of resources.
Instead, the report finds that micro and small enterprise is a high priority for the state,
although there is no evidence of significant state support. In fact, the Small Business Act No.
2 of 2004 was delayed for six years and the GSBA remains a weak association. In the 2010
budget, the Indian-led state allocated about USD $75,000 to the entire small business sector.
In previous years, the allocation was GYD $1.5 million (USD $7,500) (Anonymous
Interview with a government official). Since coming to power in 1992 the Indian-led PPP
administration has disproportionately spent funds in the Indian-dominated agricultural sector,
neglecting urban micro and small business sectors where Blacks are active (Garner 2009,
125). This neglect of small business development continues to be the case in 2010 (Field
work 2010).
Indo-Guyanese Domination of Micro Banking
Banking in Guyana originated in the colonial era to help the white planters. Banks
such as the Colonial Bank (later changed to Barclays, UK) and the British Guiana Bank
(BGB)221
catered to English planters and later to the “whitened” indentured laborers, such as
the Portuguese and Chinese, who became merchants. Conventional banks refused to lend to
the Afro and Indo populations (Duncan 1990, 17-39; Rodney 1981, 33; Daly 1974, 166;
221 In 1914, the BGB became the foreign owned bank, Royal Bank of Canada.
177
Smith 1964, 78). In 1828, the first bank to assist slaves, the Port Office Savings Bank, was
set up (Daly 1974, 166), but it could not meet the demand. By independence, banking was a
contentious issue because while the whitened business elites had access to finance, the
majority of citizens, East Indian and African Guyanese, did not (Smith 1964).
On the plantations, slaves had begun cooperative-like banking activities, drawing on
traditions they brought with them from Africa (St. Pierre 1999, 69). These African collective
banking systems, called “Susus,” have a long tradition and slaves used them to support trade
amongst themselves. Today, Afro-Guyanese (and some Indos) continue to participate in
informal systems derived from Susus—the Box hand and Penny Bank systems. Unlike the
Jamaican and Haitian cases, the current formal micro lending landscape in Guyana lacks any
cooperative models in microfinance (Navajas and Tejerina 2006; Sookdeo 1997). One of the
reasons for this, as will be explained below, lies in Burnham’s misuse of cooperative banks
for personal interests, which had a negative impact on this type of banking for the
entrepreneurial poor. However, this was not always the case. As Guyanese agitated for self-
governance, the colonial state made financing available to the masses. In 1954, the British
Commissioner set up a legal framework for the British Guiana Credit Cooperatives to
provide micro and small loans to the poor (Jabar Interview, 7 May 2010; Smith 1964, 78–
81). Cooperative banks appeared to meet the needs for the Afro-Guyanese and Indo-
Guyanese, who were excluded by British banks.
As part of former president Burnham’s (1962-1985) socialist plans, he nationalized
banks and formed them into cooperative banks. Burnham understood correctly that banks
excluded the poor, particularly Afro-Guyanese. In the 1970s, Burnham set up a member-
178
owned bank, the Guyana Co-operative Agricultural Bank (later the Guyana Cooperative
Agricultural and Industrial Development Bank [GAIBANK]) to reach Afro-Guyanese
engaged in small-scale agricultural production and trade. Through the 1980s and 1990s,
GAIBANK (later called Guyana National Cooperative Bank under Jagan in 1992) was a
pioneer micro lender for excluded Afro and Indo business persons (Sookdeo 1997).
Unfortunately, due to its political connection, GAIBANK loans were never repaid by
borrowers and the institution folded. In 2011, credit from rural cooperatives such as Thrift
and Credit Cooperative in the Essequibo Islands, are still popular because of their low costs.
Yet, urban-based credit unions—such as National Cooperative Credit Union Limited,
Guyana Defense Force Credit Union, Transport Amalgamated Credit Union, and the City of
Georgetown Credit Union—do not offer micro loans (Jabar Interview, 7 May 2010; Beaton
Interview, 30 April 2010). Still today there is a stigma attached to cooperative banks.
Following the Burnham dictatorship (1962-1985), President Hoyte formulated
policies for the micro and small businesses. Several micro lending programs emerged: the
Small Business Credit Initiative; Commonwealth Youth Credit; Mothers Development
Window; and to Women’s Affairs Bureau Revolving Loan Fund (Long 1990).222
All of these
programs had a special focus on poor women with a goal of reducing poverty; however,
within a few years these organizations were defunct due to mismanagement. With the regime
change in 1992, the Indo-led PPP state under Cheddi Jagan licensed Indian-run banks such as
Guyana Bank for Trade and Industry (GBTI) and the Demerara Bank. In the 1990s, the local
222 The Small Business Credit Initiative (SBCI) closed down in 1997 due to management issues (Navajas and
Tejerina 2003, 2).
179
banking sector was increasingly Indian bankers who catered to the Indian merchant class.
Indeed, Hoyte’s establishment of microfinance was through an Indian-led Initiative for
Private Enterprise Development (IPED) (Long 1990). IPED’s founder was Yesu Persaud, an
Indian, is also owner of Demerara Distillery Limited (DDL) and the Demerara Bank. During
the period of the Hoyte regime (1985-1992), Persaud secured a $2.8M grant from USAID
and the Pan American Development Foundation (PADF) to start microfinance activities
(Sookdeo 1997; Duncan 1990, 27-28).
As of May 2010, Guyana’s three main specialized micro lenders reached about 10%
of the demand for micro-credit. These three retailers: IPED, Small Business Development
Trust (SBDT), and Microfin. IPED’s founder, Yesu Persaud, remains its chairman, and the
CEO Ramesh Persaud (2010–present), is also Indo-Guyanese (past directors were all non-
Blacks) (Interview, 17 November 2008). IPED clients, many of whom are Indian, move onto
larger loans from Persaud’s commercial bank, the Demerara Bank (Chin Interview, 17
November 2008). Both of the senior managers I met with at the Demerara Bank reinforced
the fact for me that bankers are Indian.223
IPED’s loan portfolio, valued at USD $7,073, 455,
allocated an average loan size of USD $1,236 (Completed Survey, 6 May 2010). As shown in
Table 4.1, IPED has the largest outreach to clients; yet IPED does not disaggregate loans
allocated by race and it only reaches 22% female borrowers (see Table 4.1 below).
223 Participant observation at Demerara Bank confirmed that most staff are Indian and other non-Blacks because
not one Afro-Guyanese worked on the Administrative (second floor) division at the time of my visit. As of
2010, both of Persaud’s banks are led by Indo-Guyanese: Pravinchandra Dave (Demerara Bank) and Ramesh
Persaud (IPED).
180
Table 4.1 Guyana’s Micro/Small Business Lenders (2010)
Type
Name/Inception
# of Clients Female
Clients %
Active in
Allbouystown
Donor
Subsidies
State Funds M
icro
fin
ance
IPED, 1986 4971 22% Y Y Y
SBDT, 1994 200 68% N Y Y
Microfin, 2007 429 57% Y Y N
Co
mm
erci
al
Republic, 2008/9 NA >75% N Y N
Scotia Bank, 1993 NA NA N N N
GBTI, 1992 NA NA N N Y
Demerara, 1992 NA NA N N NA
Info
rmal
Box hand >1000 >80% Y N N
Penny Bank >500 >70% Y N N
Sources: Survey completed 6 May 2010 by IPED and 12 May 2010 by Microfin. Mohammed Interview, 23 April 2010; Zaman and Williams Interviews, 23 April 2010.
Rich Indo-Guyanese own two major MFIs. Since SBDT’s inception in 1994, Sataur
Gafoor of Gafsons Industries Limited and Gafoors Stores Limited has had Indo leadership
(Kaieteur news 11 December 2011; Ali Interview, 23 April 2010). SBDT is run by Indian-
born Manjula Brijmohan (married to an Indo-Guyanese), who was vice-president of
President Jagdeo’s budget committee (Interview, 15 April 2010; SBDT Annual Report
2006). Moreover, SBDT has received significant funds from the Agricultural Minister,
Indian-Guyanese Robert M. Persaud (Government of Guyana, Agriculture, website accessed
11 March 2011) even though they reach a very small number of borrowers (Refer to Table
4.1). In fact, its Indian male-dominated board (with the exception of the Indian female, an
employee) is a composition that fits comfortably with the rhetoric of the Indian-run state
(Annual Report 2006, 2). A competing microfinance manager explained to me, “When
money is to be had, this brings out the party colours” (Anonymous Senior-Level Banker
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Interview, 16 April 2010). In other words, certain lenders use their Indian cultural ties to
connect to acquire support from the political elites. The potentially disempowering impact of
this practice of accessing state funds through cultural ties is not seen as a problem because
these lenders are not concerned with the possibility that their collusion with an authoritarian
state might brand them as racist.
The two Indian owned microfinance retailers (IPED and SBDT) I met appeared to
have a close relationship to the PPP government. In fact, one director stated, “They [Afros]
complain about the coolie man [Indo-Guyanese] government but it does more than any other
government before” (Interview, April 2010 for confidentiality). The insinuation here is that
the Afro-Guyanese politicians of the past—for example, Burnham or Hoyte—did not
advance the cause of the Afro-Guyanese. This comment is worrisome given the racial tension
in the country. Despite this intimate association with the Indian leaders, this director refused
to accept that the relationship could be perceived by others as racial bias.
Racism in microfinance is deemed to be a non-issue by Indian lenders I met (Field
work, 2010). As long as senior management denies that racial bias against Afro-Guyanese
affects micro lending, it is doubtful that programming can counteract exclusion in
microfinance. Like the Jamaica case, I found that micro bankers were aware of the
exclusionary tendencies against marginalized groups in the slum, however, they ignored that
their ingrained prejudices excluded a racial group. During my visit one these retailers, the
seven staff persons (out of the nine) present were all Indo-Guyanese, and in a poster of
delinquent clients were Indians as well as those waiting in the client area (Visit, 15 April
2010). During an interview, 43-year-old Penny, an Afro huckster, stated that she had a hard
182
time getting a micro loan: “Indians get through…when I went down to Brickdam [referring
to the SBDT office] and…I had a hard time there, dey lef’ you jus’ so” (Interview, 20 April
2010). Here, she comments on the fact that Indians are served first and that she was left
waiting by the Indian staff until she felt obligated to leave.
Trinidad’s commercial bank, Development Financing Limited South America
(DFLSA), owns the newest microfinance lender, Microfin (see Table 4.1). DFLSA bought
Scotia Enterprise’s micro and small business portfolio in 2005. In 2007, Microfin launched
its services, and as of May 2010 its average loan size was USD $1,576 and its loan portfolio
was valued at USD $723,493. My findings revealed that Microfin, led by an Afro-Guyanese
Lindel Harlequin, had the most diverse staffing (whites, mixed-race, Afros, and Indos). The
organization’s human resources data shows that of its staff, 60% are Afros and mixed-race
and 40% are Indos (Completed Survey, May 2010).224
Microfin’s senior manager spoke
openly on the topic of race and microfinance (unlike the Indian-run MFIs). Microfin, through
its research on ethnicity and financing, found that Indos receive larger loans than Blacks.
IPED’s staff explained that Afros and Indos have different family and cultural make-
ups, which may explain the difference in the sizes of loans they access (Interview, 19 April
2010; Harlequin Interview, 16 April 2010). Indian Guyanese tap into what is called a “buddy
system” (Indo-Guyanese local term for a male relative as a cousin or uncle) for funds under
USD $1,500. Afro-Guyanese usually have less disposable income within families and seek
loans under USD $500 (Persaud Interview 19 April 2010). This seems to suggest a lack of
224 Ahmed (2008, 152) found that Grameen Bank did not share specific disaggregated data with her.
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family networks being the reason that Afro-Guyanese are not considered (that is, are
penalized) for these loans. In some ways, one can argue that Afro-Guyanese who do not have
an extensive family network may merit higher loans for business but this does not happen.
Interview findings show that Indian bankers do not value Afro-Guyanese as
entrepreneurs. Bankers, most of whom are Indian, have a set of preconceived notions of the
characteristics of a creditworthy client, and Afro-Guyanese are deemed a bad risk regardless
of their education, profession, or economic status. Even well-educated Afro-Guyanese have a
hard time getting a loan from a bank simply because they are Black (Scott Interview, 13 May
2010; Thomas Interview, 7 May 2010; Garner 2008, 204; Dow 2003, 4). A dichotomy of
“them” versus “us” is set up when bankers review a client for a loan. An Afro-Guyanese
male expert at an international agency argued,
“In this society, certain men [Indo-Guyanese] don’t want us [Afro-
Guyanese] above them or equal to them in any way. They [Indians]
want to keep us out. So we get the royal runaround when we go to the
banks” (Anonymous Interview, 22 April 2010).
Black people, then, regardless of their class, find getting a loan from a bank difficult. This
challenge is compounded for Blacks who live in the slums. Afro-Guyanese hucksters are less
likely to get a loan than their Indo counterparts, and the loans they do qualify for are very
small (Scott Interview, 13 May 2010; Thomas Interview, 7 May 2010). Racial bias is
embedded in the analysis of portfolios, with the result that it is not only unlikely that an Afro-
Guyanese will obtain a loan, but if they do, it will be for much less than requested.
Afro-Guyanese are aware of the stigma against them in most banks. In Allbouystown,
an Afro fruit seller, Rastaman, aware of the racial bias in micro lending programs, stated,
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IPED is der people, if yuh coolie (East Indian) you get bigga loan
and easy [. . .] Blackmon (Black person) gets pushed round [in the
bank]” (Translation: IPED is made up of Indians and it is an Indian-
run bank. If you are of Indo-Guyanese descent, you can easily
qualify for larger sized loans. An Afro-Guyanese loan applicant is
not assisted by people at the bank and they get re-directed for loan
support.) (Interview, 20 April 2010).
Rastaman Franco’s words reveal that Black hucksters perceive that local banks are biased
against them and favour Indians. In fact, most stakeholders (82%, n = 41) interviewed argued
that micro bankers, many of whom are Indian, are limited in their capacity to stay neutral
because they cannot “go against the grain”: that is, they must support the Indian policies that
exclude Afro-Guyanese (Anonymous Interview, 29 April 2010; Ramharack 2005).
This ingrained cultural prejudice of Indian Guyanese to support their own kind makes
Afro-Guyanese stakeholders skeptical of micro bankers who claim to help empower the
poor—because to do so would mean they’re going against a racialized policy that excludes
Afros. This policy runs against the original intention of microfinance, which is to create
inclusive finance. Most hucksters, 90% (n = 26 out of 29), who are mainly Afros/Mixed-race
with Black (and a few poor Indos), believed that indigenous banks led by Indo-Guyanese
prefer Indian clients (Fieldwork, March, April and May 2010; Focus Group with hucksters,
28 April 2010). Afro hucksters referred to these banks as being “Indianized.” As I
demonstrate in the discussion below, race discrimination limits Black people’s access to
microfinance.
The Guyanese micro lending sector is quite small (see Table 4.1), and Indo-
Guyanese, as an ethnic group, dominate as staff in these organizations (see Table 4.2).
During my field research, it was noticeable when I was waiting in banks that the majority of
185
staff were Indian Guyanese. My findings reveal that most lenders are well-educated,
relatively young males with an average age of 45 years, and most (73%, n = 8). I met 11
senior decision-makers at each of the banks that have micro/small financing, and I also
interviewed 39 stakeholders to triangulate these findings. I analyzed the ethnicity/race of
micro bankers in four commercial banks and three non-bank institutions that specialize in
microfinance. Given that race dominates political discourses in Guyana, then, analyzing the
race of the micro lenders is important to understanding why Afro-Guyanese feel excluded.
Table 4.2 Ethnic Group of Microfinance Managers (n = 11)
Ethnic Group Number Percent
Afro 2 18%
Mixed-race 2 18%
Chinese 2 18%
East Indian/Indo 5 45%
Males 8 73%
Such perspectives are particularly relevant in understanding hucksters’ access to
micro-credit since, as shown earlier in Table 4.2 (above), only 2 of the 11 managers
interviewed were Afro-Guyanese: 5 of the 11 micro lenders were Indo-Guyanese, and 9 in
total were non-Blacks (5 Indos, 2 Chinese, 2 mixed race). Sixty percent (n = 30) of the
stakeholders interviewed (of various racial backgrounds) said that microfinance lenders are
focused solely on profits, and Indians who run these institutions view Indo clients as able to
repay loans (Scott Interview, 13 May 2010; Benschop Interview, 7 May 2010; Beaton
Interview, 30 April 2010). A senior Indian manager was of the opinion that Indos had a
moral pressure to repay loans (though there is no evidence to substantiate this point).
186
The UNDP project Empretec is a leading micro and small business training
organization and they focus on making training inclusive of marginalized business groups,
namely Afro-Guyanese. Its manager, an Afro-Guyanese, confirmed that racism affects
lending patterns and that microfinance leaders fail to address systemic discrimination
(Sempler Interview, 16 April 2010). For the most part, then, microfinance managers do not
analyze the racial bias that limits the performance of Black entrepreneurs.
In this case study, most bankers 90% (n = 11) interviewed said they do not hire loan
officers from the marginalized slum communities, but that they hire people based on
credentials. The banking managers’ conviction that race and people’s location were not
criteria for hiring was perplexing given that these two factors were important determinants in
allocating micro loans. In Guyana, “normal” hiring practices—that is, those according to
Indo-Guyanese standards—focus entirely on education and are not appropriate to micro
lenders’ unique mission of reaching marginalized people. In order to fulfill the original
intention of microfinance, which is to ensure inclusiveness, it is essential to hire individuals
who are Black or who understand the experience of those in the slums. Instead, “qualified”
Indian loan officers (not from the slums) are hired.
The type of clients accessing microfinance is affected by the racial staffing
composition in micro loan programs. Afro-Guyanese are less likely to obtain loans because
Indian loans officers do not go to the slums. Thus, hiring the most technically qualified staff
person does not produce a more equitable and inclusive policy. As demonstrated through the
following words of an Indo-Guyanese lender: “A set of people [Afros] are not business-
oriented by culture. And these people [Afros] have a ‘seize mentality’ [to take and never to
187
tell a word, a code of silence] and you can never find them.” (Emphasis added) (Anonymous
Interview). Blatant comments such as these degrade Afro-Guyanese, and hucksters, as a
result of such biases, view lenders as racially prejudiced in the allocation of micro-credit.
Similar to the Jamaican case, Indian lenders were not interested in working in the slums—
such as Allbouystown, Buxton, or Tiger Bay—where many Black micro-entrepreneurs live.
Narratives against Afro-Guyanese Business People
Findings cannot pinpoint a particular discriminatory micro-lending policy resulting
from racist views against Afro-Guyanese. Hence, proving racial bias is usually difficult to
prove. However, the attitudes of senior management, which is dominated by people of Indo-
Guyanese background, reflect firmly entrenched racist ideas about Blacks. In this case, 72%
(n = 21) of hucksters interviewed, including poor Indians, said the persons most
discriminated against were Afro-Guyanese. Blacks interviewed claim that the current
political environment is dangerous for them because they are labelled as the opposition
(Pearson Interview, 3 May 2010; Gibson 2005). The stereotypical views that Indo-Guyanese
hold of Blacks as bad business people are common in the banking sector, and the following
viewpoint is typical:
Some people [Indos] are more prone to business…they have a natural talent
for business. A large part of it is cultural [being East Indian]. Some Blackmon
[Afro-Guyanese] don’t want to be rich; they are not dissatisfied with how they
are [insinuating low level lifestyle]. You give them a leg up and they shrug
their shoulders—a lot of them [Afro-Guyanese] don’t want to get out of the
barrel. (Managing Director of an unnamed bank, May 2010).
Ghetto areas, such as Allbouystown or Tiger Bay, contain many African Guyanese
engaged in huckstering. These slum communities are often labelled as dangerous because the
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Blacks living there are viewed as “crooks” and “thieves” (Gibson 2005, 37).225
According to
those people I interviewed, most Afro-Guyanese are turned down by Indian bank managers
for a loan because of race (Bristol Interview, 4 May 2010; Beaton Interview, 30 April 2010;
Philips Interview, 30 April 2010). Comments such as the following indicate anti-Afro
sentiment among members of the Indian political elite:
I worked with Blackman [Afro-Guyanese] for fifty years they have a problem,
oh yeah … They [Afro-Guyanese] are difficult [. . .] still think slavery affects
them [points to her head/brain making a crazy sign gesture]. I consider myself
Black but I am also mixed with Indian and Portugee (Portuguese) which may
explain why I don’t think like them [Afro-Guyanese]. (Emphasis added)
(Anonymous Interview, 21 April 2010).
Cultural narratives in society downgrade and humiliate Blacks. It was hard to find an
Indian banker who sympathized with the biased lending practices against Blacks.
Nevertheless, Indian microfinance managers interviewed claimed that they do not see race as
a factor that reduced borrowing opportunities for Afro-Guyanese. Simply put, they define
Afros as inherently incapable of sound business practice and void of moral character (e.g.,
honesty, willingness to repay). Indian bankers are able to use credit language and practice to
persist in their biased lending practices because they argue that microfinance policies were
not created to assist Afros living in an oppressive environment:
Race is a problem but microfinance practitioners will not discuss it. In my
program, people who do not repay are always them (Afros). This is
confidential [information] and I ask that you do not use my name or quote me
[. . .] between you and me [referring to me as a person of (partial) Indo-
Guyanese descent], it is true they [Afro-Guyanese] don’t repay [micro loans].
No one will say this to you as I have. (Anonymous senior-level micro banker,
Interview, date withheld).
225 Residents from Tiger Bay are being relocated as part of a state plan to revitalize the businesses in the
downtown core areas and housing schemes, such as Para Faite Harmony and Diamond.
189
Racial bias are thus embedded in the everyday operations of microfinance programs.
Most bankers interviewed (7 out of 11) admitted to me that race is a problem, but a
“problem” in the sense that Black borrowers were less likely to repay. A senior Indian banker
justified their exclusionary practice: “I see the people who don’t repay [loan defaults] and
they were almost always a Blackman (this term refers to women and men).226
They [Afro-
Guyanese] don’t have an honest culture [. . .] they want money but they don’t feel to repay
[loans] like wi Indians. I need [Afro-Guyanese to repay] my money but they don’t pay me
back” (Anonymous Male Banker, Interview, date withheld).
It is clear that Indo-Guyanese lenders do not see Blacks as trustworthy customers able
to honour a debt and repay accordingly. However, none of the lenders who made such claims
could provide me with evidence, despite requests for this information. Afro-Guyanese
interviewees branded banks such as the Bank of Baroda, Demerara Bank, or SBDT as
“Indian” because the majority of the micro lenders are of an Indian background (Field work
April and May 2010). My research thus shows that persons of African heritage are
disadvantaged as microfinance clients because of their race.
Negative narratives undermine the business acumen of Afro-Guyanese, and biased
staff hiring makes it hard for other perspectives to counter the institutional bias. At the same
time, a different set of problems arises for Afro bank managers trying to carry out their
responsibilities with mostly Indian clients, as they face physical risk from Indian clients.
Racism affect the collection process of loans because Indian clients harass Black staff
226 Term refers to men and women of African-Guyanese descent, and the term appears to be racist, but was
widely used.
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persons, and as a result managers are reluctant to hire Black staff even when they are
qualified because of this issue.
A senior manager, for example, reported that he had to transfer out a Black male loan
officer who was told by Indian clients, “[…expletive...] We fix your boat [drown/kill you]
next time you Blackman (Afro) cross over” (Anonymous Interview, 10 April 2010). One
Afro-Guyanese bank manager recalled an experience of being harassed by Indian clients on a
site visit: “They cussed me and [the clients asked] asked “Why is dis Blackman [Afro-
Guyanese] here [in their community]? (Moore Interview, 22 April 2010).” Yet a mixed-race
banker claimed she never had a bad experience with East Indian clients (Yang Interview, 22
April 2010).227
Programs that focus on Indian clients contribute to fewer Afro-Guyanese
staff hirings in banks and this reduces outreach to Blacks because the front-line loan officers
are hired to target Indian clients.
Afro Borrowers’ Coping and Resilient Attitudes
Blacks I interviewed recognize that there is racism in microfinance. Given the racially
polarized banking environment, all hucksters (n = 29) identified banks with one of the two
dominant racial groups. Afro-Guyanese and dougla hucksters (n = 21 out of 29) have
difficulty accessing loans from banks. As a consequence, as revealed by this research, these
hucksters preferred commercial lenders to the specialized microfinance organizations.
Despite the fact that during the colonial era commercial banks excluded Afro and Indo
clients, certain foreign-owned commercial banks, such as Canada’s Bank of Nova Scotia and
227 This would seem to contradict Gibson (2005, 69), who argues that persons of mixed-race background,
dougla, are not accepted by Indos, viewed as “half-caste” or “impure,” while they are accepted by Afro-
Guyanese.
191
Republic Bank of Trinidad and Tobago (RBTT) are the preferred choice of hucksters. banks
as “neutral” and non-racist, unlike the indigenous Indian-owned banks (Interview, 13 May
2010).228
Hucksters referred to Demerara Bank, owned by Yesu Persaud, as an “Indian
man’s bank.” They see India’s Baroda Bank, though international, as assisting only Indo-
Guyanese. Hucksters were convinced that Scotia Bank and RBTT supported their needs
better than locally owned banks—as UG’s Scott clarifies, “International banks like Scotia
Bank treat Blacks better.229
Although I was unable to collect data on the lending practices of
international banks, I can confirm that the staff at foreign banks such as Bank of Nova Scotia
and RBTT was far more diverse (Field visit, April 2010).
Table 4.3 Perceived Racial Identities of the Main Banks by Hucksters (2010)
Bank Name Race
Guyana Bank for Trade and Industry (GBTI) Indo
Republic Bank None (neutral)
Scotia Bank Guyana None (neutral)
Demerara Bank Indo
Citizens Bank Portuguese
IPED Indo
DLFSA Microfin Afro
SBDT Indo
Bank of Baroda Indo
228 Both of these international banks are led by non-Indo-Guyanese: Amanda St. Aubyn (mixed-race) and John
N. Alves (Portuguese descent). 229
During this fieldwork, I could not secure additional proof that Bank of Nova Scotia and RBTT treat Afros
better than local banks.
192
Canada’s Bank of Nova Scotia earned a positive reputation through its micro loans to
Black communities. In 1993, Scotia Bank piloted a microfinance program called “Scotia
Enterprises” modelled after Grameen’s group. It reached 2,000 Afro clients in Kitty
(Georgetown), Maihcony (West Coast Demerara), and East Bank, and it is my assessment
that this program, lending mainly to Black clients, is the reason Afro-Guyanese see Scotia
Bank as supportive (Currie Interview, 3 May 2010). On the other hand, in June 2010, the
GBTI, led by mixed-race CEO John Tracey, signed a partnership with the regime of then-
president Jagdeo to carry out the microfinance program, Women of Worth (WOW), but
citizens viewed this program as race-based patronage for Indian women, with a token
inclusion of Black single mothers (Anonymous Email Discussions, 23–26 November 2010).
Exclusion of Afro-Guyanese from Microfinance
I selected the slum of Allbouystown for this study because it is a microcosm of the
country’s pluralist society. Some of the poorest people in Guyana live in Allbouystown,
which has a population of 4,883. In a 2002 census, less than a third of (28%) the population
(1,384 people) had attended school (Bureau of Statistics’ Census 2002).230
Civil society is
weak in the community because state organs that fund Community Development Councils
(CDCs) and Neighborhood Democratic Councils (NDCs)—locally based groups made up of
community leaders who represent the larger community—subvert local leadership by funding
elders who adhere to party politics. Little scholarly or policy information is available about
these bodies. Despite my efforts to find out more about the CDCs and NDCs, I could only
discover that state-run Constituency Development Funds (CDFs) were provided to these two
230 According to the Bureau of Statistics, 2002, Allbouystown is village number 123 in Region 4 .
193
groups, and that CDCs and NDCs are made up of party activists or local leaders who will
support the party platform.
At the time of this fieldwork, campaigning and funding of political activists were in
high gear for the 2011 election. The CDF allocated funds to CDCs and NDCs (of an
undisclosed amount) to destabilize and eliminate local opposition (Anonymous Interview, 23
April 2010). Long-time politician of the PPP, Philomena “Fireball” Sahoye Shury, who is in
charge of urban renewal in areas where large numbers of Afro-Guyanese live, is skeptical
about economic development in these communities (Interviews, 21 April and 4 May 2010).
The claim by critics that CDFs are used to depoliticize opposition groups (Anonymous
Interview, 30 April 2010) was echoed in interviews with Albouystown residents and leaders,
who stated that the state agency provided support for certain local persons to contain political
opposition. This approach exacerbates conflicts within the community (Anonymous
Interview, 23 April 2010).
My small sample of hucksters in Table 4.4, below, is more or less representative of
the slum of Allbouystown, which is made up mainly of Afro-Guyanese, with a minority of
Indo-Guyanese. I interviewed 29 hucksters from Allbouystown, of whom 55% (n = 16) were
Afros and 41% (n = 12) were female (see Table 4.4).231
Most hucksters, including Indos, said
racial politics (bias in favour of Indians) was a problem.232
Table 4.4 gives a breakdown of
the race of the hucksters I interviewed in Allbouystown.
231 Interviews do not include those I had with business persons in Tiger Bay (another slum in Georgetown),
where I met with market vendors. 232
On the television program Spotlight, Rajendra Bisessar finds that in poor communities, Blacks and Indians
have had to stand together as political elites push forward the race politics for their own interests. 9 May 2010.
194
Table 4.4 Gender and Racial Breakdown of Hucksters Interviewed Who Applied for loans
Ethnicity No. Total % of the Sample
Total Interviews (all hucksters) 29
Indo-Guyanese 9 31%
Indo women 5 17%
Indo men 4 14%
Dougla (mixed) 4 14%
Dougla women 4
Afro-Guyanese 16 55%
Afro women 12 41%
Afro men 4 14%
Females 20 69%
Female-headed household 9 31%
Source: In-depth interviews and focus group with 29 hucksters in Allbouystown.
Black and dougla hucksters consider microfinance programs to be inherently biased
against Blacks. Bucky, a mixed-raced, 21-year-old huckster of used clothing stated, “Most
people [Indian-Guyanese] get through without a thrill [have no obstacles in microfinance] [. .
.] If he [his or her] hair [is] straight [reference to Indo-Guyanese]. It’s about race, and straight
hair can help you” (Interview, 24 April 2010).
In the microfinance industry, managers define the Afro-Guyanese group as less likely
to repay loans. In Allbouystown, the community’s diverse ethnic residents shared an
understanding of class that crossed racial boundaries of Black, dougla, and Indian (Ceres
195
Interview, 2 May 2010).233
Franco, a 49-year-old Rasta fruit seller, aptly explained,
"Government is racialized, and we 'ave to ignore it [...] they [Indian political elites] only
separate the nations [different ethnic groups]" (Interview, 20 April 2010). Black, dougla, and
Indian slum dwellers stated that as a group in a marginalized area they are subject to “bad
name calling” (Brother Interview, 28 April 2010; Zia Interview, 20 April 2010).
Allbouystown, mostly inhabited by Afro-Guyanese, is defined by its crime, poverty,
and violence. Political elites also view it as an opposition stronghold and as a result, state
resources are directed away from this community (Local researcher’s notes, 12 May 2010).
In a focus group, Rushal, a pourri (snack) vendor of Afro descent, argued, “Government only
luk at big businessman, not wi [Afros]. Government want wi [Afros] t’ stay poor.” There is a
strong belief that by keeping Afro-Guyanese poor, the PPP state can control the opposition
(Focus Group, 28 April 2010).
Although business people in Allbouystown were united as a group because of class
and location, the hucksters I interviewed, including Indos, were conscious of the race-based
privileges set aside for anyone but Afro-Guyanese. This state policy of favouring one ethnic
group over another produced violence against Indos by Afros, particularly during election
time (Focus Group, 28 April 2010). Hucksters made the point that the PPP state wants them
to be in a position of need so as to control them (ibid). Since economic resources and welfare
projects from the state do not reach Blacks, they turn to the informal sector in order to
survive, usually selling imported items to make a living. Micro business people claimed to
233 UG’s Kadasi Ceres, Head of Government Department, explained that racial tension is less of an issue in
Allbouystown because slum residents are stigmatized by the larger society that they bond with each other.
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earn gross sales of about USD $300 a month with about 25% in profits (Interviews with
hucksters, April 2010). Most stakeholders interviewed (90%, n = 45 out of 50) said that
Black women were the breadwinners of the family and that as single mothers they had a
hardest time accessing microfinance.234
Indo-Guyanese women married to Black men also had a hard time accessing micro
loans, and their marital status did not seem to be an advantage in obtaining a loan (Focus
group 28 April 2010). Off the record, a bank manager told me that his bank applies a
“married condition” to reduce repayment risks by allocating loans to couples rather than to a
single woman.235
This married policy requirement (note this policy does not exist at the
Afro-led Microfin) favours Indians who are more likely to be married than poor Black
women (Focus group 28 April 2010; Nettles 1995, 428). Hidden policies such as the
“married condition” in microfinance thus work against Blacks and inter-racial couples.
While Indian-run micro banks do not see Afro-Guyanese as credit worthy, Afro
entrepreneurs play a vital role in selling goods from Indian businesses to the slums.
Hucksters also render a variety of services, such as hair-dressing, cosmetology, car repair,
cleaning, running salt goods shops, and selling cooked meals and snacks such as pourri,
potato balls, and poulari.236
The nine single mothers I interviewed were traders and the heads
of their households (see Table 4.4) said they cannot access state services. These traders in
Stabroek “Big Market” or Pennington’s, where they bought goods from the Indian-run
234 Nettles (1995, 438) claims Black women are more likely to be on their own, than Indian women.
235 See Rahman (1999, 68) concerning use of a hidden transcript by Grameen Bank to exclude male clients.
236 Pourri and poulari are Indian vegetarian snacks widely eaten among all races in Guyana.
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wholesale shops on Regent Street. Based on an appraisal of these businesses, most hucksters
I interviewed should have easily qualified for a micro loan.
Most hucksters 83% (n = 25 of a total of 29 interviewed) and 97% (n = 15) of Afros
interviewed could not get a loan (See tables 4.4 and 4.5). Black women said they cannot
access credit because of their race (not gender).237
Rushal, an Afro single mother and baker,
stated, “Microfinance for many is jus’ like lotto only rich people win [. . .] betta you na play”
(Interview, 28 April 2010). Table 4.5 illustrates that only five people had obtained micro
loans and three (38%) were Indian males and only one (6%) was an Afro businesswoman.
Afro-Guyanese thus appear to have the hardest time getting a loan compared to Indian
Guyanese and mixed-race persons. It should be noted that the Guyana sample is too small to
be statistically significant.
Table 4.5 Micro Loans by Race and Gender (2010)
No.
% by Race of all those who
Received Loans
% by Race of Total
Sample
Indo Male 3 38% 10%
Dougla (mixed race) Female 1 25% 3%
Afro Female 1 6% 3%
Total Loans Accessed 5 17%
Hucksters with no Loans 25 83%
Informal Banks and Afro-Guyanese Dignity
Guyana has a long history of informal mobilization of money. In slave times, as
mentioned in an earlier section, Africans brought with them West African traditions of susus
237 I also found this to be true of an Indo family living in Tiger Bay, another urban slum.
198
(group saving plans), where they mobilized savings on a weekly basis (St. Pierre 1999, 69;
Mintz 1955). Since slave times, then, Afro-Guyanese (and some Indos) have organized
financial groups. These traditions have led Black hucksters to use informal credit facilities in
response to their exclusion from formal microfinance. Indeed, the political racial bias against
Afro-Guyanese of the last 20 years has reinforced the importance of informal banking
systems for marginalized Black people. However, in spite of the entrenched history of these
informal banking systems, “Box hand,” a phenomenon widely used among the poor since
slavery, has received little scholarly attention (Greaves Interview, 17 November 2008).
In a small city like Georgetown all of the specialized micro lenders are in close
proximity; yet, hucksters surprisingly turn to Box hand or Penny Banks to meet their
livelihood needs. Racial exclusion from MFIs and feelings of being alienated by the Indian-
run micro banks have led entrepreneurs to hide money at home, in old chip tins or under beds
(Fieldwork, April and May 2010). Afro business people, especially single mothers, have no
alternative but to use informal banks such as Box hand or Penny Bank (St. Pierre 1999, 69;
Besson 1996, 264). These informal banks serve not only as a necessity for survival, but also
as a way to preserve their dignity when the Indian politicians deny them fair access to
economic resources.
Box hand and Penny Bank are very much part of the local financing system, and most
of the hucksters interviewed (95%, n = 27) highly value these banking systems. People told
me that Box hand and Penny Bank restores personal pride to business persons excluded from
microfinance. Nee, a 28-year-old mixed-race female who owns a hair and nail salon, stated,
"Box help[ed] me start my business [. . .] [It has been] passed down from generation to
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generation, from grandmother's time and it [Box hand] helps me” (Nee Interview, 26 April
2010). In spite of the local importance of Box hand and Penny Bank, however, the central
role informal banks play in micro business was unknown to the pro-poor financial experts to
whom I spoke (Lam Interview, 4 May 2010; Moore Interview, 22 April 2010).
Box hand is a daily or weekly plan where the “Boxer” or “Box lady” (person in
charge), usually a Black woman, manages the fund for free or charges a flat fee each cycle,
usually 6 to 12 weeks (Fieldwork interviews in 2010; Besson 1996, 266). Acceptance by the
group is based on the person’s capacity to repay and not on their race or colour. In fact, Box
hand members are open about their difficulty in getting loans from the banks, and the Box
lady or Boxer makes efforts to include them. Box hand gives poor Afro business people a
safe place to lodge their savings. More importantly, it restores their deignity as a people
because it provides them access to money when they need it. Penny bank is almost always
managed through a formal entity like a church, where residents deposit a fixed weekly
payment into a group savings account (usually Wednesdays) and withdraw the entire sum in
December (Fieldwork 2010).
Conclusion
Poor economic growth and biased state politics have forced many poor people (Black
and Indian alike) living in marginalized urban areas to become entrepreneurial. Under an
Indian-run state (1992-present), East Indians are more likely to access a micro loan (and to
obtain larger loans) to develop their micro enterprises than are Afros (Philips n.d.). Racial
bias in microfinance stems from the political history between the two ethnic groups that has
been reinforced by political elites.
200
For the most part, Indian Guyanese microfinance managers refuse to consciously
recognize that racism unfairly affects business and the allocation of resources. Indian-
dominated MFIs are, however, consciously focused on “help my own kind.” Because
institutions led by Indos prefer Indian clients, they are obliged to hire Indo-Guyanese. A lack
of Afro-Guyanese at senior management levels decreases the likelihood that Blacks will be
hired on the frontline to target Black clients.
A pervasive cultural narrative denigrates Afro-Guyanese entrepreneurialism, and
Indian managers do not construct programs to resist this racialized discourse. Rather, Indian
managers participate in stereotypes that marginalize Afro-Guyanese. The married condition
policy in certain microfinance organizations is an example of systemic discrimination against
Blacks, who are penalized for not adhering to an Indian cultural norm. Prejudice (not
evidence) explains why micro loans, especially large ones, do not go to Afro-Guyanese.
Hearsay and people’s own biases corrupt the original intention of microfinance, which is to
reach those persons marginalized by greater society from accessing financial services.
In the microfinance universe, staff and managers are specifically hired to ensure that
their products reach excluded communities. In Guyana this is not the case with MFIs. An
international expert explained, “In Kenya, a leading microfinance bank set up operations
inside of a Nairobi slum to reach poor business people, and hired staff persons from the
community” (Campion, 10 December 2009 survey reply). Yet, in countries where identity
divides social groups, micro bankers in Guyana and Jamaica are guided by their own inherent
biases, such as race or class respectively, and do not hire frontline staff persons drawn from
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the slum communities with the same ethnic background to counteract perceived (or real)
discriminatory practices.
Micro-credit is viewed by local managers as a tool to assist excluded business people;
yet lending in the Guyana is exclusionary. Indo-Guyanese microfinance managers are aware
of the race discrimination against Afro-Guyanese but feel it is justified because of the many
non-entrepreneurial characteristics they attribute to Blacks and they view Blacks as inferior
in business. Indian discourses antagonize racial tensions with Afro-Guyanese, as the accepted
cultural narratives discriminate against one group of people because of their race and
ethnicity. Afro-Guyanese are made to feel inferior because of their race, and microfinance
does not aid this group of people. Guyanese Indians who lead microfinance organizations
operate within the larger Indo-centric context that condones negative comments against Afro-
Guyanese to deny them equal access to economic resources.
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Chapter 5 The Haiti Case: Inclusive Home-Grown Microfinance
Introduction
Ever since Haiti’s fight for independence in 1804, state leaders have oppressed its
poorest people. Haitian political scientist Robert Fatton (2002; 2007) has studied the
country’s authoritarian regimes led by elites noirs (Black elites) and mulatres (mixed-race)
with financial backing by the blancs (local whites) against the moun andeyo (excluded Black
masses). Haitian scholar Saint-Gérard (2004, 84) also argues that over the years political
elites have misused Black power ideology to victimize the poor Black masses (see chapter 2).
Bad governance and corrupt political and business elites in Port-au-Prince have left millions
of people disenfranchised. Forty per cent of the population lives in Port-au-Prince and the
metropolitan areas. Forty per cent of the population lives in Port-au-Prince and the
metropolitan areas and they have been moving to the bidonvilles (shantytowns) since the
1950s.
Generations born and raised in these quartiers précaires (slums) have retained their
African tradition of kombit (local organizing). The Kreyol word kombit embodies African
traditions to regroup people with very little means, and these gwoupmans (Kreyol word for
collective groups) have inspired the development of cooperatives and the caisses populaires
(credit unions). Traditions of gwoupmans (Kreyol word for group collectives) and sols
(informal banks) were ways for excluded peoples to organize.238
In spite of an oppressive
and undemocratic state, poor Haitians have created their own civil society groups and caisses
238 See Fatton (2002, 52; 2007, 221) for definitions of Kreyol terms: kombit (working together) and gwoupmans
(collective groups).
203
populaires (credit union) movements—a testimony to the democratic spirit of the uneducated
masses (Fatton 2007, 221; Montasse 1983).
In post-earthquake Haiti, the disaster has exposed the deepening vulnerability and
poverty between the “haves” and “have-nots” and women disproportionately less better off.
Microfinance appears to be the exceptional development intervention that seems to be
assisting these poorest citizens (Zanotti 2010). Local micro bankers interviewed have argued
that democracy in Haiti will not be lasting without economic democracy for the Black masses
(Several Interviews, October 2010). As a result, Haitian microfinance lenders have taken on a
two-fold mission: to economically support business people and to socially empower them.
These lenders hire socially conscious people who are committed to making microfinance a
tool to transform the lives of the marginalized traders in the bidonvilles.
Haitian micro-credit is an urban phenomenon–its main criticism is that it reaches only
a small fraction of the 60% of the population who live in rural areas (Clermont and Fleurstin,
Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28–29 September 2010; USAID 2008; Shamsie 2006, 45).239
For most part, the country’s banks have ignored the masses and catered to the business elites.
Yet two million ti machanns, many of whom have come from the countryside require loans.
And, the country’s micro lenders reach at least 25% (500, 000 people) of the demand
239After the earthquake, many displaced people have moved back to the provinces with incentives to do so and
others are bring forced to leave the town squares and to move outside of the city (Amnesty Annual Report Haiti
2012; Fieldwork, 2011).
204
(Extantus Interview, 14 October 2010; USAID 2008).240
Haiti’s microfinance reach of 25%
is much higher than 10% in Jamaica or Guyana, showing that lenders are focused on reaching
eligible entrepreneurs. Understandably, the January 2010 earthquake resulted in losses of
USD $60 million and a 52% drop in clients, gravely affecting 40,000 staff and clients
(Vertue USAID Interview, 13 October 2010; Ministère de la Économie, Colloque sur la
Microfinance, 28 September 2010; François Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28 September
2010). Four caisses populaires went bankrupt after the earthquake (Extantus Interview, 14
October 2010; St. Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010; Turcotte Interview, 7 October 2010).
Despite these natural adversities, which exist alongside chronic political instability, Haitian
microfinance is home-grown and local people, managers, and clients draw on historical
references to influence modern-day microfinance programs.
Socially Conscious Lenders
Big businesses in Haiti are controlled by a few families (such as the Boulos,
Deschamps, and Boujos), who have inherited family businesses. An example is Oliver
Barrau, who relocated back to Haiti from the U.S. to run his family’s company, Alternative
Insurance Company (AIC). His firm offers micro insurance products to the poor masses
through Fonkoze, an MFI specialized in group lending. Whitened Haitians such as Barrau see
micro entrepreneurs not only as a business opportunity but that these financial services can
truly improve their livelihoods. For most Haitians, education has been the vehicle for upward
social mobility (Mangones Interview, 11 October 2010; St. Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010;
240 KNFP (2008) reports that micro loans reach 300,000 people, and a USAID report (2008) finds that 245,000
(of which 77% are women) access microfinance. Sony Extantus, representing the caisses populaires, finds that
these reports underestimate the number of clients reached by member-owned institutions.
205
Anonymous Interview, 4 October 2010; Louis Herns Marcelin Interview, April 2008).
Hence, many commercial banking managers and technical staff are Black (Raymond
Interview, 14 October 2010; Boisson Interview, 11 October 2010; François Interview, 7
October 2010). Haiti’s home-grown microfinance sector is staffed by bankers who have lived
experience of the people with whom they work. In addition, these local leaders possess a race
and class-consciousness that reveals they understand the experience of the ti machanns.241
Lenders in touch with the people understand that collective systems are home-grown and the
urban poor gravitate to these familiar systems.
Extreme poverty, undemocratic regimes, and intense class and race conflicts make the
Haitian case stand out from the Jamaica and Guyana cases. In spite of these social and
political challenges, Haitian microfinance managers have managed to resist social biases in
the allocation of very small loans to the poor. Many micro lenders are only two generations
removed from their clientele, and they develop microfinance programs that fit with the social
context of the poor masses. Joseph Similien, who leads Micro Crédit National (MCN) is
originally from Carrefour, a poor part of town. He knows firsthand the struggle of the poor.
Sinior Raymond of the Association pour la Coopération avec la Microentreprise (ACME)
was raised in Grand’Anse and often went to school with only coffee in his stomach. Both
men are examples of Haitians who come from modest economic backgrounds but, through
education and self-determination, were able to rise to run microfinance institutions
(Discussions with Similien and Raymond, October 2011).
241 Additional interviews with senior staff persons include Joseph Similien, CEO of Micro Credit National, and
Evans Baptiste, Manager of Sogesol—two dark-skinned Haitians (October 2011).
206
During my fieldwork, I observed micro lenders, including whitened local elites and
foreigners, embrace a political philosophy to fit the reality of their very poor clients. In the
locally run microfinance organizations, staff persons speak Kreyol—the national language
spoken by the poor—and signs are often in Kreyol (Palme Interview, 30 September 2010;
Field visits, 2008 and 2010). At the leading microfinance organization Fonkoze, for example,
staff persons speak Kreyol in their offices as a political statement of their support for the pro-
poor stand (St. Giles Interview, 7 October 2010) and policy manuals are written in Kreyol
(Jean-Louis Interview, 3 October 2010; Assignment, April 2008). The American director at
Fonkoze also opted to learn Kreyol as opposed to French in order to relate to her clients, the
language of ordinary people (Hastings Interview, 4 October 2010).242
African Legacy of Collective Organizing
Rural Haitians excluded from banking in towns and cities have created their own
largely informal banking systems. The country’s legacy of cooperatives, dating back to 1937,
provides a way for the poor to come together and save money.243
The informal institutions
known locally as sols, or tontines in Francophone Africa, reach millions (Fieldwork, August–
October 2011; Calpas Interview, 30 September 2010; Mystal Interview, 4 October 2010).244
Sols are the most important institutions in providing microfinance to poor Haitians, and a
number of different types of these organizations exist, all informal groups locally run by
242 I carried out professional microfinance assignments to Haiti in 2008 and in 2011 and witnessed first-hand
microfinance staff speaking Kreyol to clients. 243
Fatton (2002, 52) suggests that cooperative work, through trade unions and churches, inspires new
democratic tendencies. 244
Sometimes I shall use the term “sols” when referring to the informal banks.
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women, that allow members to save and borrow money (Jean-Louis Interview, 3 October
2010; Turcotte Interview, 7 October 2010; UNCDF 2003).
In this comparative project, the Haiti case is hopeful. I argue that microfinance
operating through the caisses populaires and sols is what makes Haiti’s micro-credit sector
inclusive. These systems, inspired by African systems of collectivity known in Kreyol as
kombit, have persisted through Haitian history under various repressive states. Micro lenders
who run the caisses populaires are not class or race biased; they understand how to make
microfinance assist the marginalized poor in a society segregated by class and race. In fact,
Black microfinance lenders, as well as whitened local elites and foreigners, have a socially
conscious philosophy of using microfinance as a vehicle to ensure economic democracy
(defined to me as closing the widening economic gap between rich and the moun andeyo) for
the masses. In doing this, they take personal risks. The ti machanns recognize these efforts
and as a result trust these credit programs.
Most Haitians who cannot qualify for micro loans turn to grass roots cooperative-
based organizations (such as caisses populaires) or pool their money through informal
banking groups (like sol, also known as tontines) (Extantus Interview, 14 October 2010;
Julien Interview, 12 October 2010; Fleurstin Interview, 6 October 2010; Fatton 2002; Reinert
and Voss 1997). Other ways for poor business people to access money when they cannot get
a micro loan (or at the loan size they need) include bric-a-brac, plan, and maison d’affaires.
In this chapter, I first discuss the importance of collective and member-owned
institutions such as the caisses populaires, which fit with the social context and offer
appropriate financial services to the masses. Second, I describe the background of the
208
microfinance environment in which the caisses populaires and informal banks dominate.
Third, I provide the study’s findings and viewpoints of the ti machanns in the Bon Repos
focus groups (n = 14) and triangulate those view with stakeholder interviews (n = 48). Like
the Guyanese sample, this is a relatively small sample (n = 62).245
I argue that Haitian
microfinance lenders do not exhibit the class and race bias witnessed in the Jamaica and
Guyana cases because people running programs are socially conscious of local politics and
apt for a daring political rhetoric and they incorporate indigenous systems in the development
of financial services for the poor masses.
Caisses Populaires: Building on Local Culture and Traditions
Haiti’s financial world is indebted to caisses populaires and cooperatives246
for
developing inclusive financing that reaches the economically active masses.247
In the early
years, financing was exclusively for the whitened rich elites and elites noirs and ignored the
moun andeyo, poor Haitians. Entrepreneurially active poor Haitians have developed their
own banking systems based on cooperatives and caisses populaires to meet their financial
obligations. Out of respect (for people’s demand for member-owned institutions (MOIs)), the
state has elevated cooperative status into the nation’s constitution (in Preamble 4) and Haiti is
declared a cooperative republic (Chery and Julien Interviews, 12 October 2010).
245 I interviewed additional microfinance experts and 31 micro-entrepreneurs from Cayes in October 2011. Ideas
and comments from these extra interviews reinforce findings from this smaller sample. 246
As noted in chapter 1, all caisses populaires are focused on financial services and have the legal right to
collect deposits and make loans. Only some cooperatives are authorized to carry out financial services (many
cannot legally collect savings). In addition, many cooperatives also focus on non-financial services and
activities, such as housing and education (Emails 3 and 4 August 2011 from Maxon Julien of l’Université
d’Quisqueya and Marie Marcelle St. Gilles, CEO of KOTELAM). 247
I recognize that this view may be contested by commercial (non-cooperative) lenders.
209
Haiti’s cooperative development, unlike Guyana’s, was successful in terms of
reaching to a cross-section of citizens especially those who are low income. Although
President Forbes Burnham’s elite-led state policy renamed the country the Cooperative
Republic of Guyana (see chapter 2), top-down control and excessive political interference
limited cooperative development in that country. Instead, the Haitian cooperative movement
came out of the grassroots movement, bottom-up, and in certain cases the church was also
helpful in mobilizing these cooperatives. The moun andeyo were the ones to bring over
African systems of tontines and sol which would later influence the creation of the caisses
populaires. Political elites and educated groups recognized the important role of collective
groups and cooperatives in the country’s development, culture and history. The decision to
enshrine Haiti as a cooperative republic in the constitution thus emerged as a consequence of
a people’s movement (ibid). In interviews, Haitian lenders, including commercial bankers,
recognize the vital role MOIs have played in the country’s history (Boisson Interview, 11
October 2010; Chery Interview, 6 October 2010; Clermont Interview, 29 September 2010).
Pooling money is a long-standing cultural tradition that was carried on by slaves
when they arrived in Haiti in the 18th century (see chapter 2). In French-speaking West
Africa, Benin (formerly Dahomey) and Togo are countries which Haitians claim as their
ancestral lands. The Beninese and Togolese people have strong traditions of tontines.248
The
rise of cooperatives and later caisses populaires, particularly those with a Christian focus and
engaged in community development, have been lasting because of their fit into the local
248 I lived in Benin as an American Peace Corps volunteer from 1997 to 1999 and worked with tontines.
Mayoux (2001, 443) states that tontines in Cameroun predate colonization.
210
culture (Turcotte Interview, 7 October 2010). As one ti machanns explained to me, “No one
has to tell me what caisses populaires are, I know them from long time ago … before I was
even here” (Miveline, Focus Group, Bon Repos, 9 October 2010). This statement by
“Miveline” speaks to the institutional memory “second nature” that poor business people
have when it comes to credit unions. They grow up with them and are accustomed to the use
of collective banking systems because poor families have been using caisses for generations.
Inaction and lip-service paid by political leaders to the needs of poor entrepreneurs
has increased the necessity for informal banking systems which have tapped African
traditions of kombit (working together) to meet their livelihood needs. Kombit is a testimony
to the spirit of grassroots democracy. It can be argued that these informal gwoupmans and
sols led to the creation of cooperatives and caisses populaires. Haitian financial cooperatives
were first founded in 1937 in Port-a-Piment du Nord, near Gonaïves (Montasse 1983, 18).
Later caisses populaires opened in La Valée (Jacmel) in 1946 and in Cavaillon (South) and
Sainte Anne in Port-au-Prince in 1951 (François, 28 September 2010) in the times of
repressive politics.
People’s organizing in gwoupmans persevered under the oppressive U.S. occupation
(1915–1934). During the violent Duvalier dictatorships (1957–1986) of François “Papa Doc”
and Jean-Claude “Baby Doc Duvalier, the masses relied on cooperatives and caisses
populaires to meet their needs.”249
Even through the brutal authoritarian regimes of the
Duvaliers’ where they made it illegal for citizens to form associations people continued to do
249 Greene’s book The Comedians (1965) provides insight into the horrors of the Tontons Macoutes terror under
François Duvalier. See Marquis (2007), which focuses on the Papa Doc regime.
211
so (Maguire 1997, 160). In fact, Haitian cooperative scholar Emmanuel Montasse (1983, 29)
found, that between the periods of 1951 to 1983 there was a growth of credit unions because
during these years people were deprived of basic services.
Caisses populaires were the pioneers of locally owned micro lending programs that
give excluded persons access to financial services (Montasse 1983, 18). As far back as 1953,
the Conseil National des Cooperatives (CNC) supervised cooperatives (Young and Mitten
2000, 2). As of November 2011, no parallel legal structure existed for non-legalized
microfinance organizations (Raymond Interview, 14 October 2010; Calixte Interview, 6
October 2010; Marcelin Interview, 5 October 2010; Senior government official Interview, 4
October 2010; Discussions at the Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28 September 2010).250
Historical accounts indicate that member-owned institutions were making micro loans to the
rural poor long before microfinance was revolutionized as a development tool. The
importance of the caisses populaires to people is reflected in the following quotation, taken
from an anonymous interview:
“Caisses populaires belong to the Haiti people. These caisses are accessible,
grassroots and embedded into people’s hearts, because they focus on people’s
community, collectivity, and helping each other out which are very important
traits for us [Haitians] especially those of us who are poor” (Anonymous
Interview, 2 October 2010).
As this quotation notes (see above), Haitians (including micro lenders) recognize that
caisses populaires have a vital place in society because this model accommodates African
250 Despite discussions, no state agency regulates NGOs engaged in micro lending (Fieldwork, October 2011;
Governor of Central Bank, Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28 September 2010).
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traditions that most Haitians hold dear. While it is true that significant donor investments
have assisted the microfinance sector, the historical development of the caisses populaires
and the ingenuity of the Black Haitians working in them have created a model that is
reflective of the society. Managers in the caisses populaires have shielded lending from any
partisan, race, and class politics (Raymond Discussion 23 August 2011; Turcotte Interview, 7
October 2010; Chery Interview, 6 October 2010; François Interview, 28 September 2010).251
In fact, microfinance managers across the sector, cooperatives and non-cooperatives, are
committed to economic democracy. Microfinance is viewed as a tool that is used to correct
the market failures and to ensure that poor business people have access to finance (Calixte
Interview, 6 October 2010; Marcelin Interview, 5 October 2010; Hastings, Interview 4
October 2010; Clermont Interview, 29 September 2010).252
The years of the Jean-Bertrand Aristide administration proved difficult for micro
lending. In 1991, President Aristide complied with American reform policy demands for
economic liberalization, deregulation, and less state oversight during his first term in office
(see chapter 2).253
Neoliberal reforms meant reduced social spending, which exacerbated the
already tense political situation. The political environment was unstable, involving random
murders and the absence of state authority. In 2000, the caisses populaires sector
251 Turcotte explained to me that NGO administration costs in microfinance averaged 39%, whereas, for the
caisses populaires the average was 27%. 252
In Niger (West Africa), a sustainable village banking program managed by local people, Mata Masu Dubara
(Women on the Move), was designed by a white, non-banker foreigner who wanted to create a financial service
that would be lasting and appropriate for the Sahalian context (Grant and Allen 2001, 215). 253
The year 2000 was an election year, marking the end of Préval’s presidency (1996–2001), and the country
returned Aristide to the presidency in 2001.
213
experienced a setback of a corruption scandal.254
Unregistered credit union managers,
offering high returns on deposits of 10% to 12% per month (thus called the “dix douze”
crisis), absconded with USD $250 million dollars in people’s savings (Tucker and Tellis
2005, 118; UNCDF 2003, 154). Despite this horrific experience, the caisses populaires have
grown and flourished. The 2000 scandal blemished the governance of certain caisses
populaires; yet many Haitian people have confidence in and continue to do business with
these lenders because of the historical and cultural connection.
This demand for caisses populaires systems signaled to the state that it needed to
invest in projects to strengthen governance inside of the cooperatives and credit union
system. Haiti’s government invited the Canadian International Development Agency’s
(CIDA) development partner, the Quebec-based credit union Développement International
Desjardins (DID) (which had a model similar to Haiti’s based on church, school and
community) to strengthen the Haitian credit union sector and to create for it a regulatory
framework (Turcotte Interview, 7 October 2010; Breton Interview, April 2008).255
Within
several years of the scandal, the caisses populaires, through a DID-supported local network
Le Levier,256
provided technical support to more than 340,000 credit union members, of
which 41% are women (Extantus Interview, 14 October 2010; Kerlouche and Joseph
254 Girard (2010, 196) notes that the scandal unfolded in 2002, but my fieldwork accounts find that it was in
2000 (under the Aristide regime). See more about the scandal and a reflection after one year:
http://www.alterpresse.org/spip.php?article560 255
Member-owned institutions, credit unions, and cooperatives are regulated by Audit, Inspection et Formalité:
Les federations de Caisses Populaires (10 July 2002). 256
Le Levier is a technical and financial federation to ensure financial norms and standards of the caisses
populaires. Its partner, DID, is charged with developing Le Levier’s technical capacity. As of October 2010, Le
Levier had 50 credit unions in its network. See Le Levier website: www.lelevier.ht
214
2010).257
The caisses populaires were able to overcome the scandal because the people
believe in these MOIs to meet their needs despite the weaknesses in the system.
In the section above, I described the historical evolution of the caisses populaires,
which are culturally embedded in the Haitian way of life. In the next section, my overview of
the microfinance sector emphasizes that Black Haitians (who come from the masses) have
led financial development through a radical and socially conscious approach to ensure that
loans reach poor citizens. Even though caisses populaires and sols dominate the micro
lending arena (see Table 5.1 in the next section), the non-cooperative lenders have taken cues
from them when making micro loans to ti machanns.258
Black Haitians: Leading Microfinance Development
For most of the country’s history, banks have ignored Black Haitians and catered to
business interests of les blancs (whites) and mulatres (mixed-race) Haitians. As recently as
the 1990s, the commercial banks in the country had fewer than 10,000 clients in a country
with a population of millions. In 2010, two international banks in Haiti, Canada’s Scotia
Bank and America’s Citibank, reached 100,000 people or 1% of the population (Wells
2010).259
Financial reform started during the Aristide and Préval administrations in the 1990s
(see chapter 2). At that time, U.S. donors became interested in commercial banks
257 Donors like CIDA recognize the importance of caisses populaires and have awarded $20 million to DID to
expand financing to agricultural finance through credit unions in the rural areas (Fieldwork, October 2011). 258
Kerlouche and Joseph (2010) find that there are 11 banks active in microfinance in Haiti. 259
See Wells, Jennifer. “Lovely’s Haiti: Small Loans, Big Trouble.” Toronto Star, 3 December 2010. Retrieved
on 4 May 2011 at http://www.thestar.com/haiti/economic/article/901382--lovely-s-haiti-small-loans-big-trouble
215
downscaling financial services to the poor and NGOs upscaling (formalizing) business
services and microfinance (Discussions Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28 September 2010).
USAID and the World Bank also hired a mulatre, Pierre Marie Boisson, on behalf of the
Association des Professionnels de Banques (APB, Banking Professionals Association) to
analyze downscaling 260
in commercial banks (Boisson Interview, 11 October 2010). Donors
organized the first microfinance conference in 2002 to support the growth of non-cooperative
micro lending institutions (UNCDF 2003, 91). With CIDA’s support to the credit unions,
USAID and the IDB were interested in the non-cooperative side of microfinance.
261 Both
halves of the microfinance sector credit unions and non-cooperative organizations are
focused on the poor Haitian majority, particularly those in the bidonvilles.
Micro-credit outreach has increased in the last two decades because local commercial
lenders, more diversified in staffing, understand that they need to reach the masses to grow.
Sergio Navagas, a senior microfinance expert in the Latin American and Caribbean region at
the IDB, noted that “In many of the Caribbean islands, people (microfinance managers) often
treat microfinance as a social project (charity) and not something that can be commercialized.
However, Haitian micro lenders differ from this norm” (Discussions Colloque sur la
Microfinance, 28 September 2010). Navagas’ comment also supports the argument that
microfinance managers in Haiti diverge from the prejudiced mind-set of elites running micro
260 The term “downscaling” is used to refer to occasions when a commercial bank goes down market to reach
poorer clients with products while the term “upscaling” refers to those situations where non-bank institutions
(e.g. NGOs) formalize operations and transform into financial institutions.
261 USAID, through the private contractor Development Alternative Inc. (DAI), has managed a series of multi-
year projects, such as Prêt, FINNET and MSME Haiti. In 2010, USAID and the Bill and Melinda Gates
Foundation’s USD $22-million project, Hi-Five, focused on technology innovations in microfinance (Interview
with Marie Vertue and Haelee Kim of USAID, 13 October 2010).
216
loan programs in other parts of the Caribbean, such as Jamaica and Guyana, who are too
removed either by class or race (or both) to relate to the people they serve. A deeply
embedded distrust exists between lenders and poor borrowers in Jamaica and Guyana. In
sharp contrast, Haitian micro lenders, including educated whitened elites, believe that poor
business people are worthy investments, see micro-credit as profitable business, and use
credit as a tool to build socially inclusive societies. Borrowers trust microfinance as an
institution and they also value the work of the people working inside these institutions.
The Domination of Caisses Populaires and Informal Banks
Haiti’s microfinance sector has three sections: (1) caisses populaires and financial
cooperatives, which are regulated by the state; (2) non-cooperatives (commercial banks,
NGOs); and (3) informal banks (Fils-Aimé Interview, 30 October 2010). The caisses
populaires are governed by separate legislation from non-cooperatives.262
Of the non-
cooperatives, only commercial banks are regulated by the Central Bank.263
Cooperative form
of lending along with informal banks dominate in terms of outreach to clients.
In this section, I introduce non-cooperative lenders and highlight the fact that a
number of these institutions have adapted to the local culture by introducing either group
lending methodologies or informal-type products (such as “Mama Sol”) to connect with the
micro entrepreneurs. Non-cooperative institutions have increased and some have adapted
262 State supervision is carried out by the Banque de la République d’Haïti (BRH) and the Ministère
d’Economie et de la Finance (MEF) on commercial banks, their subsidiaries, and many cooperative and
“caisses populaires.” Credit unions are also managed and supervised by the CNC and regulated by the
federation, Le Levier. 263
Law 14 (Novembre 1980) of the Banque de la République d’Haïti (BRH) regulates all banks. See thesis
titled “Impacts de la Microfinance sur l’emanicipation des femmes de la commune de Saint-Marc.” Joachim
Kerlouche and Nancy Joseph. Quisqueya University, FSEA, June 2010.
217
lending techniques reflective of the collective models. However, despite the number of non-
cooperative lenders, a great many Haitians do banking at the caisses populaires or Sols, as
noted in Table 5.1.
As noted in Table 5.1, the caisses populaires (regulated) and sols dominate the
microfinance sector. Informal banks receive no outside institutional support, their activities
are carried out informally, and they reach millions of poor Haitians. Caisses populaires, on
the other hand, are assisted by various administrative groups, such as the Association
Nationale des Caisses Populaires Haïtiennes (ANACAPH)264 and Le Levier Network, to
provide governance and technical support to strengthen the services of MOIs.
Table 5.1: Caisses Populaires and Sol: Major Micro Lenders (November 2010)
Type Name of Micro Lender and Date
Started
Haitian-
run
# of Clients Active in
Slums
Donor
Subsidies
Avg.
Loan
Size
USD
Ca
isse
s P
op
ula
ires
&
Co
op
era
tiv
es
Caisses Populaires, 2007 (50-80
members, Le Levier network)
Y 340,000 Y Y
1200
Caisses Populaires and Cooperatives
(non-regulated)
Y 300,000+ Y N
<100
Co
mm
erci
al
Mic
rofi
nan
ce I
nst
itu
tion
s
(Do
wn
-sca
led
) Sogesol (Sogebank) 2000 11,198 Y Y
Micro Credit National (Unibank) 1999 N 10,500 Y Y
Kredi Popile (BUH) 1997 N
NA N NA
264 See more about ANACAPH: http://www.anacaph.coop/Missionanacaph.php
218
MicroCredit Capital (Capital Bank) 2000 N
775 NA Y
Sta
te B
an
ks
Banque Nationale de Credit (BNC) N NA Y NA
Banque Populaires Haitienne (BPH) 2002 N 444 Y N
NG
Os
an
d A
sso
cia
tio
ns
FHAF 1981 Y NA Y Y
100
to
500
SOFIHDES 1983 Y NA Y Y
FINCA 1989 Y 8,200 Y Y
GTIH Y 500 Y Y
Fonds d'Espoir 1992 N 4,684 Y Y
Fonkoze 1995 Y 55,000 Y Y
ID 1998 Y 4,281 Y Y
ACLAM 1999 Y 5,039 Y Y
ACME 2003 N 21,000 Y Y
Info
rmal
Ban
ks
Sol Y Millions Y N <25
Sabotay Y
>Thousands Y N
Source: Most results taken from ANIMH’s report (2008). Results for Le Levier network for the Caisses Populaires, ACME, FINCA, MCN,
GTIH and Fonkoze results were gathered during Fieldwork in October 2010.
There are seven commercial banks in Haiti: four are private and three are state-
owned. There are also a number of non-cooperative micro lenders: NGOs, commercial bank,
and specialized microfinance institutions (see Table 5.1). The Association Nationale des
Institutions de Microfinance d’Haïti (ANIMH) and Konseil Nasyonal des Finansman (KNFP)
219
are administrative networks for 25 non-caisses populaires institutions.265 A quasi-state
wholesale firm, Fonds de Développement Industriel (FDI), is run by Lhermite François (a
dark-skinned Haitian) and makes direct investments to microfinance institutions. Today, each
of the major commercial banks has microfinance affiliates. The microfinance lending arms of
commercial banks, shown in Table 5.1, arose from the activities of mulatres who, aware of
the race and class divide, lobbied their respective commercial banks offer microfinance
products. It was no easy task to convince whitened elites to invest in the poor masses
(Boisson Interview 11 October 2010). A few members of this class and racial group were
inspired to change the mind-set that divides the society.
Local whitened elites such as Pierre-Marie Boisson and Carl Braun were convinced
that reaching the base of the economic pyramid (most marginalized and dark-skinned
Haitians) was good business. The German-owned International Projekt Consult firm
provided technical support to Carl Braun’s Unibank to start Micro Credit National in 1999
(Discussions with Joseph, 18 October 2011; Chery Interview, 6 October 2010). Soon after,
Haiti’s largest bank, Société Générale Haïtienne de Banque (Sogebank), was assisted by
U.S.-based ACCION to start Sogebank’s microfinance bank, Sogesol (Boisson Interview, 11
October 2010; Drake and Rhyne 2002). Hence, in 2000 Capital Bank created Micro Crédit
Capital and Banque de l’Union Haïtiennes (BUH) started a micro lending program called
Krédi Popile (People’s Credit) to attract regular people through Kreyol branding (Chowdri
and Silva 2004). State-owned Banque Populaire Haitienne (BPH) also started micro lending
265 Two USAID projects, Financial Networks for Entrepreneurial Empowerment (FINNET) and Haiti Micro and
Small and Medium Enterprises (Haiti MSME), supported the non-cooperative microfinance sector significantly.
220
to the poor in 2002 and its staff is mainly educated Black Haitians (Fieldwork, 2011; 2010
and 2008; Anonymous Interview, 7 October 2010; Tucker and Tellis 2005, 115–116).
Micro Lenders: Inspired by the Collective Spirit of Haitians
State-owned banks followed the commercial bankers in downscaling service, making
microfinance products that would reach the low-income consumer. In the past, Haitian state-
owned banks misused micro loans for political reasons. For example, the defunct state-owned
Banque de Credit Agricole (BCA) made micro/small loans to farmers that were allocated for
political purposes (Fieldwork, August–October 2011; Anonymous Interviews, details
withheld on purpose).266
In interviews, community leaders in Cite Soleil and Bel Air stated
that during the 2007–2009 period the Ministère des Affaires Sociales et Ministère des
Conditions Feminines also made political micro “loans” to party activists in exchange for
political support (Similien Interview, 18 October 2011; Delva Interview, 12 October 2010;
François Interview, 7 October 2010; Anonymous Interviews, 5 October 2010). Loan
programs operated by government agencies that employ political criteria in the allocation of
loans are not sustainable because clients do not repay them. Furthermore, according to a ti
machann I interviewed, local conflicts would ensue among citizens over these handouts
(Focus Groups at Bon Repos, 9 October 2010; Anonymous Interview (in Cité Soleil), 5
October 2010; Peterly Interview, 5 October 2010).
266 BCA shared an office with the MARNDR (Ministry of Agriculture) and its leadership is tied to the political
elites at the MARNDR.
221
NGOs Adapt to Collective Micro Lending
When NGO-led micro lending emerged in the mid-1980s, the masses were already
familiar with cooperative models of microfinance. As early as 1981, Fonds Haïtien d’aide a
la Femmes (FHAF), with the assistance of America’s Women’s World Banking, started
micro lending to poor women (Anonymous Interview, 6 October 2010) and in 1983, Société
Financière Haitienne de Développement (SOFIHDES), a local MFI run by Black women,
started operations. Since the 2010 earthquake, FHAF, under the leadership of Haitian
Francine Celéstin, has lost at least 50% of their loan capital because of defaults (Anonymous
Email, 30 November 2010), and in October 2011, the Clinton Bush Fund awarded FHAF
USD $800, 000 and Wesner Marcélin was appointed the Executive Director (resigned soon
after hiring).
By the late 1980s, U.S.-based Catholic Relief Services (CRS) was involved directly
in micro lending with USAID funding (Charles Interview, 6 October 2010; Young and
Mitten 2000), but this institution is no longer a direct micro lender (Charles Interview, 6
October 2010). In 1989, America’s John Hatch set up the Foundation for International
Community Assistance (FINCA) in Cayes and discovered that its group-lending model fit
well with the Haitian’s predilection for MOIs (Vincent Interview, 14 October 2010). In
October 2010, FINCA in Haiti was led by white foreigners (non-Haitians) who view
microfinance as a transformative tool. All of these pioneer microfinance institutions, whether
foreign-led or Haitian-led, came into a micro lending environment supportive of cooperative-
type financial programs. But the foreign-led organizations learned that to succeed they had to
adhere to local culture and hire Black Haitians to manage their activities (Raymond
Interview, 14 October 2010; Calixte Interview, 6 October 2010; Marcelin, 5 October 2010).
222
In the 1990s, donors became interested in supporting NGOs to provide financial
services to under-served markets. USAID and IDB developed policies (called up-scaling) to
assist in the licensing of microfinance NGOs. Donors invested in the formalization of the
operations of the country’s largest micro lender, the NGO Fonkoze, whose microfinance
bank is Sévis Finansyé Fonkoze (hereafter referred to as Fonkoze) (Anonymous Interview,
30 September 2010).267 Fonkoze was started by Haitian Catholic priest Father Jean Philippe,
who hired a white American, Anne Hastings, in 1995 to lead the organization. Fonkoze’s
program was modeled on a group lending system, and—as a result of taking note of history,
local environment, and culture—the NGO allocated the micro loans to groups of women (St.
Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010; Hastings Interview, 4 October 2010; Zanotti 2010, 766;
Tucker and Tellis 2005, 114) (see Table 5.1 for data on Fonkoze).268 The Catholic liberation
theory that inspired the creation of Fonkoze led it to work with the poorest of the poor.
Hastings, with more than 16 years of experience in Haiti, is committed to institutionalizing
the local culture and language in the microfinance program and Fonkoze’s staff are expected
to be fluent in Kreyol (Hastings Interview, 4 October 2010).
Fonkoze’s pro-Kreyol policy is an example of its mission to reach the masses.
Fonkoze is mainly staffed by dark-skinned Black Haitians, and the offices are generally
located in run-down areas, again revealing the NGO’s commitment to make the institution
267 Canada’s Mennonite Economic Development Associates (MEDA) closed down two defunct microfinance
programs, Société Haïtienne d'épargne et de Crédit (SHEC) and Ranfosman Ekonomik Kominote Oganize
(REKO), and merged their assets into Fonkoze’s portfolio in June 2004 (Email from former REKO and SHEC
staff, 2 November 2010). See more about the merger at:
http://www.fonkoze.org/docs/newsletters/Fall2004newsletter.pdf 268
In Wells’s Toronto Star (3 December 2010) article, “Lovely’s Haiti: Small Loans, Big Trouble,” she reports
that Fonkoze has had years of successive losses and in the pre-earthquake period they wrote off $1.7M.
223
accessible to the masses (Fieldwork, March–April 2008).269 Fonkoze has adopted a
campaign for social justice and its managers view microfinance as a tool to work towards
social equality (St.Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010; Fieldwork, 2008). Although Fonkoze is
not a caisse populaire, founding Haitian priests have created an organization that resonates
with the masses (Zanotti 2010)—indeed, Fonkoze’s political rhetoric has at times disturbed
whitened local elites.
Other small microfinance organizations, such as Initiative du Développement (ID), a
French-supported organization, are committed to changing financial systems. ID, one of the
first lenders to work in the bidonvilles (slums), is located in the central part of town in order
to reach its clients. I visited ID in April 2008 when it was run by then-director Wesner
Marcélin, a Black Haitian committed to making loans in the slums. In 1999, Action Contre la
Misère (ACLAM) also began microfinance operations with support from the U.S.-based
NGO Freedom from Hunger, combining financial services with skills training and education.
In 2003, Haitian-run Association pour la Coopération avec la Microenterprise (ACME),
supported by George Soros’ Open Society organization, developed programs to fit with the
local culture. ACME is led by Sinior Raymond, a Black Haitian born in Jérémie,
Grand’Anse, who comes from a modest social background, and its staff is diverse, drawn
from the people it serves. These organizations complement the local context in Haiti, as the
success of caisses populaires sprang from their commitment to community and to the varied
livelihood needs of the people.
269 This observation arises from my work experience involved updating loan policy manuals and market
research/training for staff at Fonkoze in March and April 2008.
224
Given the caisses populaires’ substantial market share, it is in the state’s interest to
regulate these institutions (Vertue Interview, 12 October 2010; Castor Interview, 11 October
2010; Turcotte Interview, 7 October 2010). The World Bank’s CGAP has dedicated
resources to develop a legal framework for ANIMH’s (non-cooperative) micro lenders, but
as of October 2011, no policy existed to regulate NGOs involved in micro lending
(Fieldwork, October 2011; Colloque sur la microfinance, 28 September 2010).270
There
appears to be resistance from policy and perhaps business elites to formalize the
microfinance sector. NGO microfinance staff persons who engage in micro loans agitate for
pro-poor financial systems and take risks in doing so.
Killings of Pro-Poor Financial Professionals
A number of microfinance agencies use a radical rhetoric (push for economic
democracy) when discussing microfinance. Persons working in microfinance who advocate
for changing the bias in local business and financial systems take personal risks in doing
so.271 Unbeknownst to many, Haitians engaged in micro lending are targets and lose their
lives. Some killings include: In 2000, a Fonkoze employee, Amos Jeannott, was kidnapped
and murdered. No ransom was requested, only a threat to Fonkoze’s director to close down
operations (National Coalition for Haiti Rights website accessed 20 September 2012;
Anonymous Interview). In 2003, Danielle Lustin, former director of Fonds Haïtien d’Aide à
la Femme (FHAF) and vice-president of the board of KNFP (a rural microfinance network),
was assassinated (Le Nouvelliste; Email, 3 November 2010 and 5 December 2010; I cannot
270 This was the case when I first visited Haiti in March 2008 and in October 2010 the state was still working on
a policy for NGOs and non-banks. 271
Unlike the microfinance managers so committed to the work, they do not see the ever present risks but their
spouses have told me that they are worried that their partner works in microfinance.
225
name the individuals who informed me about these killings). As recent as June 2010,
Michèle César Jumelle, director general at the SOFIHDES (microfinance bank) and her
husband Yves Clément (working in economic development) were gunned down and the case
remains unsolved.
Unexplained deaths may be a result of personal circumstances, or they may result
from the fact that certain individuals recognize the power of microfinance to transform
societies and this represents a threat to elite control over commercial financial systems
(Interview details withheld; Le Nouvelliste). As recenty as July 2011, the killing of Guiteau
Toussaint—the head of the board of directors of the National Bank of Credit (BNC)
recognized for restructuring the state-owned commercial bank to keep it from bankruptcy—
was murdered weeks before he was to launch the first-ever competitive housing mortgage
called Kay Pam (My House). Kay Pam was to be the first-even housing loan for ordinary
people (Haitian-Truth website accessed 26 July 2012; Field visit August 2011). In isolation
these crimes do not mean much but when grouped together, they do suggest that working in
micro lending can be a dangerous occupation. The reasons for these murders against
professionals working in pro-poor financial services are only speculative because the cases
remain unsolved.
226
The Diversity of Micro Lenders
Haiti’s micro lending enterprises are largely run by (very dark-skinned) Black
Haitians, and this is particularly so in the caisses populaires and informal banks, which
reach millions of poor entrepreneurs. In Haiti, I carried out a total of 48 interviews of
banking managers, stakeholders, community experts, officials of government agencies, and
members of research organizations (See Appendix 1.1 for a list of sub-elites interviewed in
Haiti). Of the sub-elites interviewed, 17 were directly involved in micro lending at senior
levels.272
I was also able to witness that most of the Haitian micro lenders involved in micro
lending at the national level were Black (Fieldwork, 2008; 2010; 2011; Colloque sur la
Microfinance, 28-29
September 2010).
(See Figure 5.1 for a
map of the
extensive
penetration of
microfinance in the
various regional
capitals and peri-
urban areas).
272 Additional interviews carried out between August and October 2011 that significantly increase the sample
size (but not included here).
Figure 5.1: Map of Microfinance Penetration in Haiti. Source: USAID (2010).
227
Most of the microfinance managers (65%) I interviewed in Port-au-Prince were
educated and male. Except for in American and expatriate-run organizations, such as
Fonkoze and FINCA, Black Haitian micro lenders were relatively young at 38 years
(François Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28 September 2010). Sixty-five percent (n=31) of
the microfinance managers interviewed were educated Blacks, 12% (n=6) were mulatres
(mixed race), and 2% (n=10) were Haitian blancs (local whites). About 21% of the people
interviewed were foreign-born expatriates working and living in Haiti. (See Appendix 1.1 for
a list of the Haitian micro lenders and stakeholders interviewed).
It is evident that the majority of micro lenders are Black Haitians, who either grew up
in the poor social conditions faced by microfinance borrowers or have family members who
share the socio-economic situation of their clients, and they hire staff familiar with the social
groups they work with (Marcelin Interview, 5 October 2010; Hastings Interview, 4 October
2010; Palme Interview, 30 September 2010). The case shows that racial/class bias in
microfinance lending can be mitigated when the lenders are conscious of it. However, while
Haitian lenders exhibit sensitivity to the class and racial dimension of staffing, less emphasis
has been put on female recruitment, particularly at managerial levels. Hence, Black Haitian
women are not well represented at the highest levels (i.e., board and executive) in many
microfinance institutions (Participant observation, Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28
September 2010). I will discuss these gender inequities in the next chapter.
The fact that NGOs’ and associations’ managers come from the same social class as
borrowers influences how they carry out microfinance services to the poor. American-funded
organizations, FINCA and Fonkoze, for example, are able through their managers to adjust
228
loan programs to meet the needs of the Black masses. In commercial banks and their
subsidiaries, (see Table 5.1), many of the top executives and board members are from the
mixed race group belonging to the middle classes (as noted in Table 5.2), but educated Black
Haitians hold senior technical positions in these banks. It is important to note the racial
heterogeneity among microfinance managers and the fact that all micro lenders, regardless of
race, share a common perspective about why they make loans to the moun andeyo, the
poorest of Haitians. Local staff persons have created a homegrown microfinance sector that
aims to socially and economically empower the poor—a very different political reality than
in other sectors.
In the commercial banks, a growing number of the senior managers and front line
staff are dark-skinned Black Haitians (Boisson Interview 11 October 2010; François
Interview, 7 October 2010). This affects the formulation of programs. Rising Black leaders in
MFIs include: the general manager of MCN, Joseph Similien, who is a Black Haitian from
Carrefour, a poor part of the city; also Sinior ACME Raymond raised in humble beginnings
and dark-skinned Marie-Marcelle St.Gilles-Gérard of Kotelam, the manager of a large credit
union in Port-au-Prince who is originally from Artibonite and who used education to move to
a higher social class. Women’s activist Carine Clermont of Groupe d’Appui pour
l’Intégration de la Femme du Secteur Informel (GRAIFSI), a dark-skinned Haitian woman is
active in rural microfinance. All these emerging leaders in microfinance understand the lived
reality of the ti machann.
229
Table 5.2 Race/Colour of the Heads and Technical Staff in Haitian MFIs (2011)
Type of Lender Leadership Technical Staff
Member-owned Institutions
Caisses Populaires Black Black
Credit unions (not regulated) Black Black
KOTELAM Black Black
Non-Governmental and Non-Bank Institutions
FINCA Foreign/white Black
Fonkoze Foreign/white Black
GRAIFSI Black Black
GTIH Black Black
FHAF Black Black
ACME Black Black
Initiative du Développement (ID) Foreign/white Black
Commercial Microfinance Banks
Sogesol Mulatre Black
Micro Crédit National Mulatre/Black Black
Banque Populaires Haitienne Black Black
Informal Banks
Sol Black Black
KNFP–community banks Black Black
All stakeholders interviewed (100%, n = 48) found that donor-subsidized American
NGOs (e.g., Fonkoze or FINCA) tend to hire well-educated expatriates or (certain) diaspora
and mulatres staff persons who are less connected to the social realities of the ti machanns.
230
Yet, I found that once they were hired, these privileged lighter-skinned individuals adapted a
Black social consciousness sympathetic to the marginalized groups, even if this meant
betraying their own social group. Black Haitians who dominate as technical staff (and who
come from the masses they serve) are locally grounded and have influenced a new way of
thinking on the part of diaspora elites and foreigners. At times, this means they take personal
risks when they challenge financial systems owned by powerful elite families.273 White and
Black lenders view microfinance as part of a social mission to help the excluded ti machanns.
Informal Banks: Reaching Millions
Haiti’s informal banks, or sols, have a long tradition. Millions of Haitians rely on
them to meet their everyday financial needs. Much like Jamaica’s Partner or Guyana’s Box
hand, these informal banks are important for poor entrepreneurs and are by far the largest
financial network in the country (and in the region). Sols have assisted in Haitian people’s
organizing at the local level (see chapter 2 for a historical review).
One of the reasons sols have received little scholarly attention (Fleurstin Interview,
April 2008, 6 October 2010; Marcelin Interview, 5 October 2010) arises from their informal
nature: there are few written records of any of them. A number of microfinance experts were
not even aware of sols’ extensive market share (which are in the millions, see Table 5.2
above) (Fieldwork, March, April 2008). Poor, usually uneducated, Black women called
Mama Sols collectively organize these banks, providing a place for poor people to store
savings and access lump sums of cash.
273 See earlier section where I discuss the unresolved murders of people involved in microfinance.
231
Mama Sols will administer groups of a dozen people who make weekly contributions
to the fund (about USD $2) and rotate it until all members have borrowed from the fund. Sols
may be completely free with no fixed fees, or may apply a flexible or fixed nominal fee
(called frais de cahier or service fees) for the duration of the plan membership (Marcelin
Interview, 5 October 2010). Sols are low cost and trusted by their users because of their grass
roots and collective nature, unlike sabotaye (individualized informal banks) (Focus groups,
Bon Repos, 9 October 2010). The sols, along with the caisses populaires, are the
organizations that reach the most poor clients, and they have influenced the operations of
large commercial bankers like Sogebank, which has created a product called “Mama Sols.”
(Boisson Interview, 11 October 2010; Calpas Interview, 30 September 2010; Louissaint
Interview, April 2008).
Case Study: Ti machanns Embrace Microfinance
Micro lenders target poor black women (ti machanns as well as les Madam Saras274
)
engaged in petty trading in the urban centers (see Table 5.1 for list of lenders and Figure 5.1
for a map of the major urban centers with active microfinance). Bon Repos, where I carried
out my two focus groups, is a very low-income urban area in Port-au-Prince. I also
interviewed community leaders in the slums of Cité Soleil and Bel Air, in which a large
numbers of micro business people live; but at the time of interviews, these two latter areas
were gravely affected by the earthquake reconstruction process (Delva and Emond
Interviews, 12 October 2010; Dieufait and Anonymous Interviews, 5 October 2010;
274 Madam Sara refers to market women who travel regionally to buy and sell goods. These women are seen as
a level above the ti machann (Discussion with Customs Officer, 14 October 2010). See N’Zengou-Tayo (1998,
127) who writes about Madam Saras and their business travel to regional countries.
232
Fieldwork, April 2008).275
In all three communities, most business people find microfinance
useful.
Organisation des Femmes, a local community organization in Bon Repos, claimed
that some residents have difficulty accessing micro loans, yet 57% (n = 8 out of 14) of the ti
machanns I interviewed had or have a micro loan. I was also able to easily find business
people in Port-au-Prince who had micro loans. Unlike in Georgetown, Guyana, and
Kingston, Jamaica, then—where only very few of the business people I met had accessed
microfinance despite efforts to do so276
—Haitian business people seemed to more easily tap
into micro loans.
All interviews were carried out either in March and April 2008 (during food riots) and
post-earthquake in September and October 2010. (See Appendices 1.1 and 1.2 for a list of
stakeholders and businesspersons interviewed in Haiti). In this case study, 62 Haitians were
interviewed, of whom 14 were ti machanns (Focus Groups, Bon Repos, 9 October 2010). As
in Jamaica and Guyana, ti machanns sold imported items from the U.S. and China, such as
used clothing, household goods, and foodstuffs, yielding small profits of less than 15%
(ibid). The average age of a ti machann was 42 years, and 71% (n = 10) were single (heads of
households) mothers often in a placaj (an unmarried relationship) (Gérard 2010, 137).
275 I also carried out informal interviews with ti machann in Bel Air and Cite Soleil in October 2010. During my
April and March 2008 trip, I visited these two slums and expected to carry out future research with business
people in both slums. However, post-earthquake insecurities prevented me from doing so but I did meet with
local leaders from these communities. 276
I recognize this sample size is only suggestive. I complemented this case with my in-depth interviews with a
local NGO called Quisqueya for International Development (QiFD) and a CBO, Organisation de Femmes Bon
Repos. It should be noted that separate but related work was carried out in Haiti from August to October 2011
which confirm these findings.
233
Table 5.3 Interviews in Port-au-Prince, Haiti (n = 62)
Persons Interviewed Number % of Total Interviews
Ti machann focus group session 14 23%
Ti machann who were female 12 85%
Female-headed household 10 71%
Had or has a micro loan 8 57%
Sub-elites Interviewed:
Stakeholders 31 50%
Female Stakeholders 18 37.5%
Microfinance lenders 17 27%
Female Micro Lenders 6 35%
Total Sub-elites 48
Race of Sub-elites:
Noirs 31 65%
Mulatres 6 12%
Haitian Blanc 1 2%
Foreigners (all interviews) 10 21%
Total Sample Size 62
All ti machanns in the focus groups (100%, n = 14) told me they were grateful to the
micro lending programs, especially the caisses populaires.277
The concern among ti machann
about microfinance was the high per annum interest rates: 40% and 60% (excluding fees).
Roudy, a male trader from Bon Repos, explained, “Haiti is a miserable place. So much
suffering and there are no jobs, and I must do what I can to survive.” Vendors like Roudy
277 I recognize that this sample is small; however, this sample was augmented by other unrelated interviews for
UNDP in Port-au-Prince, Jacmel, Leogane, and Cayes that confirmed these findings.
234
claimed that many of them were survival traders because there were no formal jobs. More
than half (57%, n = 8) of the ti machann interviewed in focus groups had access to micro
loans, a figure that was comparatively lower in this community than in the slums of Centre-
Ville (downtown Port-au-Prince) (Milhouse Interview, 5 October 2010; Pierre Interview, 5
October 2010; Calpas Interview, 30 September 2010). Although ti machann complained
about the state and economic environment, they did not believe that race or class
discrimination on the part of micro lenders affected their personal access to loans.
Generally, the poor feel that the rich, whitened Haitians look down on them. In the
focus groups conducted in Bon Repos, all the ti machanns interviewed (n = 14) felt that
blancs and mulatres do not want poor Blacks to succeed (Focus Groups, Bon Repos, 9
October 2010). One participant remarked, “They look at you as if you are nothing when they
go to their fancy supermarkets” (ibid). As discussed in chapter 2, Haiti remains a society
divided by race- and class-based cleavages (Fatton 2007; Voodoo and the Church 1998).
Nicole, a Bon Repos trader, remarked, “Blan’ [rich white people] don’t want me to advance,
they don’t want me to grow [economically]; they [whitened elites] have a problem with me
going up [moving up the class ladder]. They alone want to be rich and they see trouble for
them [whitened elites] when I do better [financially].278
However, despite existing social conflicts, the poor seemed to view microfinance
leaders (including whitened ones) differently because they actively work to change these
attitudes. In my interviews with the ti machann (100%, n = 14), they made a distinction
between those whitened business elites working inside microfinance and those elites outside
278 This quote was translated from Kreyol to French by a QiFD program officer, which I translated into English.
The final was reviewed by the same program officer.
235
of microfinance. Clients know that Black and whitened microfinance staff persons take
personal risks when they advocate for microfinance for them as a way to change the unfair
social system. According to the ti machann I met, race and class discrimination does not exist
within microfinance because the micro lenders (including mulatres) are working to help them
improve their economic situations (Focus groups, Bon Repos).
Micro lenders organize their banks to make ti machanns feel included (such as
making Kreyol the working language in the bank or locating offices in these slums). Whereas
in the Jamaica case, hustlas were penalized for not being able to speak Standard English, one
Ti machann interviewed remarked on the importance to her that micro lenders in her bank
(ACME) speak to her in Kreyol. Even though ti machanns, especially those living in the
bidonvilles (e.g. Cité Soleil, Bel Air), feel marginalized by the whitened elite Haitians, they
do not see micro lenders as biased in their allocations. Microfinance lenders, including the
whitened ones, are viewed as making efforts to ensure that their methodologies and programs
are inclusive of the poor entrepreneurs which whom they work.
Social Inclusion by Microfinance Lenders
Microfinance lenders take careful steps and plan in a way to ensure their loans are
structured to be socially inclusive. And the cooperative type lenders like the caisses
populaires and sols have been influenced by a tradition of collective organizing and they
have systems that are responsive to ti machanns. However, no literature exists documenting
this process. Non-banks and commercial banks have adapted their micro lending policies to
fit with the collective traditions appreciated by Haitians. For example, Sogesol, a commercial
retailer, has piloted an agricultural loans program in the Artibonite Department through
236
which a cooperative group issues individual loans (Baptiste Interview, 18 October 2011).
Sogesol (as well as other microfinance lenders) thus values the historical development of
collective groups and has adjusted its products to fit the social context. Haitian microfinance
managers—both foreign and local—re-work financial services to fit the needs of the poor.
Many of the Haitian microfinance managers interviewed, including mulatres, see
microfinance as a tool to ensure economic democracy (Fieldwork, 2008, 2010, 2011). As
highlighted in an earlier section of this chapter, microfinance staff persons take personal risks
when they call for economic democracy for the poor, as this is considered radical speech.
Although the cases mentioned above remain unsolved, the persons who were killed worked
in financial and economic programs for low income citizens. In spite of this, most staff
persons continue to advocate for microfinance and believe in the change it can bring to poor
business people.
Individuals working in microfinance thus view microfinance as the vehicle through
which the economically-active poor, who are left without easy access to financial services,
can improve their quality of life (Raymond Interview, 14 October 2010; Boisson Interview,
11 October 2010; Hastings Interview, 4 October 2010; Discussions at the Colloque sur la
Microfinance, 28-29 September 2010). Such perspectives in microfinance can be seen as
political: Haitian managers make deliberate efforts to correct the market failures and social
biases that favour whitened elites. Many managers come from modest social backgrounds
and have watched their parents struggle without any support. They make bold statements that
challenge the status quo and support the poorest entrepreneurs. The whitened mulatres also
237
embrace a radical rhetoric of economic democracy, and get labelled as traitors in their own
social group.
In contrast, Jamaican and Guyanese micro lenders espousing the use of credit to help
the poor were unwilling to confront these biases and to program microfinance to oppose class
and race-based oppressions. In Haiti, even stakeholders (n = 48)—who are outside of direct
micro lending—did not make negative comments about the actors inside the microfinance
sector. In 2008, anthropologists carried out a film project, entitled Poto Mitan (2008),
following the lives of several businesswomen in the Haitian slums, and discovered that poor
women used micro lending (including sols) to create livelihoods when the state failed to
provide them with basic services like water, electricity, medical care, and education. In the
film, microfinance banks that make small loans to the poor were viewed as partners assisting
the marginalized entrepreneurs to make a living.
Haitian microfinance managers are different from those in the other two cases of this
study because educated Black Haitians acknowledge Haiti’s systemic class and racial
discrimination and develop microfinance programs to ensure that poor Blacks benefit.
Haitians organized amongst themselves financial cooperatives long before donors emerged in
the late 1980s to assist in microfinance development. Haiti’s home-grown microfinance
industry has absorbed the positive aspects of its historical and cultural traditions (St. Gilles
Interview, 7 October 2010; Chery Interview, 6 October 2010; Marcélin Interview, 5 October
2010). Although microfinance lenders recognize the contributions that donors such as the
IDB and USAID have made to micro enterprise development, they are convinced that these
investments succeeded because of the local will reach the ti machann. It appears that the
238
combination of socially conscious Black microfinance lenders and persistent collective
African traditions have ensured inclusive lending that is beyond the manipulations of
political elites.
Haiti’s inclusive approach to micro lending can be attributed to the racial make-up
and social class origins of microfinance managers, the majority of whom are Black Haitians.
Many of the Black Haitians holding technical positions in micro lending were raised in
households where mothers participated in cooperatives and sols; they thus understand
collective lending and the politics of exclusion against the moun andeyo. To reiterate, none of
the ti machann (n = 14) I interviewed in the focus groups felt that party politics was
operating inside microfinance. According to my research, only one microfinance expert,
Gabriel Bien-Aimé (deceased) of Fonds d’Espoir, was active in politics, and this was only
after he left microfinance (Follow up Fieldwork, October 2011; Anonymous Interview and
Email, 2 November 2010, no details can be shared).
Certainly, the risk of external political interference is increasing. Micro lenders
interviewed (51%, n = 48) felt that interference from political actors is on the rise (Raymond
Interview, 14 October 2010; Théodate Interview, 12 October 2010; Hastings Interview, 4
October 2010). However, when lenders protested the state’s interference in the market after
former President René Préval cancelled the ti machann’s loan debts in Croix des Brossales
market following the 2010 earthquake, the state reimbursed the MFIs for these losses. The
leaders in microfinance were aware they had to correct the government’s unilateral
involvement to protect the sector from partisan politics. Those caisses populaires under Le
Levier Federation have had no political interference, and members adhere to the norms of the
239
federation (Fieldwork, October 2011; Extantus Interview, 14 October 2010; Turcotte
Interview, 7 October 2010; Fleurstin Interview, 6 October 2010).
Conclusion
Micro-banking has had a very long tradition in Haiti. Under repressive regimes, the
excluded majority coped by coming together as a group kombit and pooling resources.
Considering the enormous impact sols and cooperatives have on society, reaching millions of
Haitians, it is surprising that political elites have not taken advantage of their extraordinary
outreach to people left out of the system. A positive outcome of this is that micro loans and
their allocation are less likely to be co-opted by politics. Caisses populaires, cooperative
banks, and sols have emerged as major micro lenders because the collective model matches
the social and cultural context of the urban poor.
Non-cooperative microfinance institutions (banks and NGOs) are relatively new to
the country and have come into an environment where local talent understands that Haiti’s
collective banking traditions have a long history and strong foothold. No one in the
microfinance sector sees the sector as partisan or biased against the moun andeyo. In this case
study, the ti machann in Bon Repos argue that micro lenders, irrespective of their skin colour
and class, are working to ensure that they have access to financing even if this means taking
risks. Ti machann trust micro lenders and see the people working in microfinance as trying to
change a society that is otherwise permeated by racial and class bias.
Since 2010, the reconstruction of Haiti has been viewed by the average citizen as
mismanaged. While resentment against foreigners and international aid has increased,
however, the microfinance sector appears to be an exception. People see microfinance
240
programs as efficient and well-managed (Fieldwork, 2010, 2011; Zanotti 2010). Unlike
Jamaica and Guyana, where microfinance managers and staff members exclude micro
business people based on class or race, Haiti, a country rife with racial and class conflict, is
characterized by inclusive and nonpolitical microfinancing. This is due to collective MOIs
and to socially conscious programming, where the majority of microfinance lenders (dark-
skinned or mulatres) prioritize economic democracy when making financial services to the
urban poor, especially to those in the bidonvilles.
241
Chapter 6 Gender, Female Privilege, and Microfinance
Introduction
Women of the global south have made tremendous contributions to the world of small
business. Yet commercial banks run by educated rich males have historically exhibited
gender bias against women as clients in the allocation of loans, enforcing this with negative
stereotypes. In the 1950s, the sexist lens of traditional male bankers around the world
prevented entrepreneurial women from accessing financial services (Armendáriz and
Morduch 2007; Drake and Rhyne 2002). While privileging one group over another has
always been a part of the lending process, it is assumed that the criteria is based on banking
principles. For most part, however, these lenders imparted their own biases in their decision-
making processes to include and exclude clients.
Economists from the developing world started to question “generic” banking
principles that allowed for internal bias by educated elite males against poor women. By the
1980s, non-bankers had exposed gender biases against women, especially poor ones, in
conventional banking systems, leading to a “microfinance revolution” (Khan 2009, 147;
Hulme 2002, 274; Harper 1998, 29; Hashemi et al. 1996, 636).279
Mohammed Yunus created
the Grameen Bank to challenge this biased thinking and to give excluded people access to
finance (Yunus 2007; Counts 1996). One of the core aims of microfinance was to bring
meaningful economic and social empowerment to marginalized business women everywhere
(Mayoux 2001, 438).
279 Goetz and Sengupta (1996,45) argue that Grameen Bank first made loans mainly to male clients (only 39%
of their portfolio went to women between 1980–1983) and shifted policy to target female clients (93%) by
1991.
242
Most Caribbean women have always worked outside of their homes to increase
incomes (Mohammed 2000; Hernandez Angueira 1997). And the structural adjustment
programs of the 1970s and the 1980s added further burdens on women making them seek
low paid work and now become responsible for social services in the community (Life and
Debt Film 2001; PIOJ/CIDA/UNDP Report on Gender 2000). Because low-income women
play a central role in the family unit and also engage in petty commerce at markets,
Caribbean families are described as matrifocal (not matriarchal) because they earned income
for the family. Within the larger society, middle-class men wield power in the business and
political domains and shape the way society unfolds, revealing a patriarchal structure
(Mullings 2005, 6; Honig 1998a, 318; N’Zengou-Tayo 1998, 118; Miller 1991, 135). Women
have long earned incomes, but this has not changed the male dominated power dynamics
between men and women. On the surface, it may appear that women are in charge of
families; but when men are present, they acquiesce and let the men remain in charge of the
households (Fieldwork 2007-2011; Nettles 2007; Kothari 2002; Mohammed 2000, 1998;
Paravisini-Gebert 1997). As a result, privileging women alone for loans can complicate their
situation in a family.
Although people are stratified along multiple identities of race, class, and gender
throughout the entire Caribbean region, gender issues unfold quite differently in each of the
three cases studied here (Freeman 2001; Mohammed 1998). Business people in Jamaica,
Guyana, and Haiti have multiple identities, and the impact of their attitudes is an important
variable when examining the role of gender in microfinance allocation (Wane 2002; Hill
Collins 2000). This chapter looks at gender dynamics in micro banking and considers how a
gender identity influences the allocation of micro-credit.
243
The data upon which this study is based has a strong female voice. I interviewed 256
female subjects (56% of the sample) (see Table 1.2 in chapter 1). This chapter reveals gender
bias as another factor producing exclusion in the allocation of microfinance loans.280
Though
I focus on the Jamaica case, I draw on the other two cases for comparative reflections. In the
Jamaica case, female-focused microfinance in slum communities exacerbates conflicts
between women and men, as well as between women. Jamaican women dominate as senior
managers and staff persons in microfinance organizations and an anti-male bias arises. This
male exclusion (a gender bias) in micro banking creates conflicts in poor households. In the
Guyana case, Indo males dominate micro-lending to the detriment of Afro-Guyanese women.
Although the Haitian sample is small, and we must view this data with caution, gender bias
does not seem to pose a problem. However, the educated males who run microfinance make
loans to poor women with limited or no formal schooling, which may be interpreted as a
class bias.
While gender-based bias produces a form of exclusion, this chapter forces a
rethinking of gender analysis in context. Educated and middle-class Jamaican women
dominate the microfinance sector both as managers and staff and this affects the allocation of
loans. Female managers view certain women clients as better investments than men, and this
biased thinking excludes poor men in the ghettos and women whose behaviour does not
conform to middle-class values (see chapter 3). Middle-class educated staff persons apply
280 A.K. Sen’s (1999) chapter on “missing women” has been helpful in my own thinking about male exclusion
in micro lending programs.
244
their own class bias, infused with racism, to reject those segments of the poor who are most
different from them.
The exclusion of men from microfinance loans in Jamaica has detrimental
consequences, even for the women who receive these loans. In Guyana and Haiti, educated
males dominate the microfinance industry. Afro-Guyanese (both men and women) are
excluded from micro loans as a consequence of educated Indo-Guyanese managers’ racial
bias. Similarly, educated Black Haitian males also lend to women rather than poor men. At
the same time, these biases based on race and class are compounded by gender identity.
Class/race bias in Jamaica exists alongside gender bias, reinforcing the exclusion of poor
males (who need micro loans the most). While in Guyana, the race discrimination of Indo
microfinance managers is against Afro-Guyanese. In both of these countries, poor women
resist exclusionary microfinance by supporting informal financing arrangements, which give
the excluded, both men and women, alternative financing options through local community
owned banks. Haiti’s case is exceptional, however. It shows that while educated Black men
dominate micro lending, this gender bias does not result in the exclusion of groups who need
finance the most (which are women).
Diversity, Gender and Microfinance in the Caribbean Region
In all three countries, female traders and sellers stimulate markets when they travel
from the countryside to sell produce in nearby towns and cities (Ulysse 2007; Freeman 2001;
Wong 1996; Keith and Keith 1992; Witter 1989; Harrison 1988; Katzin 1959). Harrison’s
245
work (1988) shows that poor Jamaican higglers have long struggled to make a livelihood.281
Women’s entrepreneurial work ethic in trying economic times is what has given women such
titles as poto mitan (“pillars of the family” in Haitian Kreyol). The Haitian ti machann,
Jamaican higglers, and Guyanese hucksters have emerged as strong female images (Ulysse
2007, 23; Freeman 2001, 1019; N’Zengou-Tayo 1998, 118; Ardener and Burman 1996). As
outlined earlier, Caribbean women not only have financially supported their families within
precarious economic and political environments, they also organize local banks to help
excluded community members access banking services (Handa and Kirton 1999; Harper
1998, 24).
Caribbean women in this study recognized the ingrained biases against them as
females. Nevertheless, they also observe that ethnic, racial, and class biases play a role as
well in holding them back in society, since these identities structure a woman’s place in her
community (Mullings 2005; Benería 2003). Hence, it is problematic to assume a united
sisterhood, a fact recognized by Caribbean scholar L. Paravisini-Gebert (1997, 3), who
suggests the importance of understanding how multiple identities function. Examining race,
class, and gender and the varying ways identities interact in the Caribbean region can clarify
which identity affects people’s access to economic resources in certain contexts (Dow 2003,
4). As presented in previous chapters, in the Jamaican and Guyanese cases, gender is a
secondary identity for poor women, who claimed that class or race were more significant
than gender in terms of their access to micro loans.
281 I conducted a trip to Panama’s Colon Free Trade Zone and Allbrook Shopping Mall in Panama City, two
main places where Jamaican higglers shop to buy their merchandise, based on my interviews with higglers in
Trench Town, August 2009.
246
The Jamaica case revealed how gender privileges an applicant. In Kingston, micro
bankers (most of whom are women) tend to privilege (certain) women over men in the
allocation of loans, but they also demonstrate a class bias in their granting of loans to poor
women. The fact that educated and middle-class Jamaican women dominate as staff persons
in microfinance and make loans to mostly poor female clients increases tensions at the local
level between poor women and men (Ulysse 2007, 17).282
Female microfinance lenders are
disinclined to provide loans to poor Black males living in the slums because they view them
as underperformers at school and cast them as poor providers (PIOJ 2004, 19; Miller 1991,
78–79).283
The exclusion of men combined with the deliberate privileging of women in
microfinance results in what Armendáriz and Roome (2008, 2) refer to as a disempowering-
effect on poor women entrepreneurs because of the domestic conflicts that ensue. When poor
women are singled-out for loans (and men excluded) these same women are vulnerable to
domestic violence. The men in their lives are angry as a consequence of being rejected from
these financial programs (Maclean 2010, 513-515; Rahman 1999, 72).284
Microfinance allocation in Jamaica also excludes certain types of women who have
various baby fathers (those who have had children by different partners) because (female)
microfinance lenders make class-based judgments.285
Jamaican managers and staff (most of
282 Rankin (2001, 32) argues in her work on Nepal that micro-credit exacerbates social conflicts in society.
Ulysse (2007, 17), writing on Jamaica, speaks to the division between the “Lady” and the “Woman, a polarity
that divides rich uptown and poor downtown Jamaican females. 283
Miller’s discussion (1981, 167) was not intent on diminishing female discrimination, but on inserting into the
gender discussion the marginalization of a certain group of men—poor Black men in the ghettos. 284
Ahmed (2008) discusses how male exclusion in Bangladesh may in fact hurt women’s empowerment by not
including “high-minded” (supportive) men in the process. 285
In the Jamaica case, 37% (n=86 out of 233) of those interviewed had from two to five children, and 20%
(n=46 out of 233) had more than five children.
247
whom are female) grant loans to women who fit within their own social mores without
considering the consequences of their bias may have for other members from the same
community. I find that having more women as pro-poor financial managers does not mean
greater gender equality. Women whose children have been fathered by different men are
stereotyped as promiscuous, labelled as having “loose morals.” These views are in direct
conflict with the view of downtown residents, who do not judge each other this way.
Mullings (2005, 8) found that the gender of senior bankers is intertwined with racial and
class hierarchies, which certain educated and light-skinned (brownings) are elevated to
managerial positions and assume positions of power (ibid). And, they use certain types of
poor women they deem fit (or with their morale codes) to assist them with their domestic
duties. The Jamaica case shows that educated, middle-class female bankers exclude poor
males and certain types of women from access to loans, and select certain ones who conform
to their middle-class norms.
Indian male bankers exhibit deep-seated racism against Afro-Guyanese that
discourages the allocation of microfinance to them. In interviews, retailers claim women are
the bulk of their clients, but this could not be substantiated. However, micro lenders did
confirm that Afro-Guyanese received much smaller loans than Indo-Guyanese (see chapter
4). Indian microfinance lenders stereotype Blacks through negative cultural narratives that
denigrate the business acumen of Blacks. Afro-Guyanese reported that it is their ethnicity and
race—that is, “being a Blackman”—that denies them access to economic resources. And
Afro-Guyanese women feel further marginalized as poor females when dealing with
educated Indian male bankers.
248
Thus, gender, analyzed within its context, is salient to the Jamaican and Guyanese
cases. Most poor Jamaican female hustlas felt discriminated against because of class (see
chapter 3) and Afro-Guyanese hucksters also reported racial biases against them by Indian
male bankers (see chapter 4). In fact, class and racial identities can be more important factors
than gender in decisions about who will be excluded from (or included in) micro-credit
programs. Hence, the findings presented in this
chapter support the argument that a woman’s
gender may not be the only identity
disadvantaging her (Mohanty 1991, 2003,;
Narayan 1997; Hill Collins 1990). In the
Jamaican context, gender oppression is
accompanied by class discrimination (see
chapter 3), and in the Guyana context, women
feel oppressed because of a systemic prejudice
against their African ancestry (see chapter 4).
Gender bias (against men) and class
discrimination by educated Jamaican female
managers interfere in the fair allocation of microfinance.
In the Haitian case, educated males dominate the retailing of micro loans to very poor
preliterate women. However, the context in Haiti has led to a much different picture than in
Jamaica and Guyana of the impact gender identity has on access to resources. Upon closer
inspection, Haitians who run microfinance program come from a social class similar to that
of the masses, or they know family members with similar class origins and are committed to
Jamaican Men on Gender
Prefer a man officer who can deal wid mi.
Yuh can say: “Bredrin try and do someting
fi mi.” Men fas a say dey know someone
in ’ere. Man (loan officers are) more relax
and can talk to yuh. Man talk free patois
and nah care, woman (loan officers) inna
der don’t like patois…inna di office.
Translation: Men want male loan
officers. Male loan officers are more
approachable and more likely to make you
feel welcome and let you know they know
someone from your community. Male
officers will talk in Jamaican Patois
(broken English) whereas female loan
officers will not speak patois in an office
environment.
Clifton, 48, Saltfish and crackers vendor,
Arnett Gardens (Jamaica)
249
ensuring that financial services are inclusive. In fact, these male managers organize financial
services specifically to avoid the racial and class prejudices that pervade Haitian society.
These managers take on a revolutionary and radical rhetoric, wherein micro loans are a tool
for economic empowerment of those classes demeaned by the wealthy. As a result, poor
female clients view these male lenders as responding to their needs and taking personal risks
to advocate for them, and did not report any bias to me (Fieldwork 2010 and 2011). In fact,
they felt that these lenders take risks when they help them. Thus, inclusionary lending occurs
in Haiti despite the fact the micro loans targeting female ti machann are programs usually
administered by men.
Jamaican Microfinance: Excluding Poor Men
Caribbean scholars, such as Barriteau (1998, 189) and Miller (1991, 166), have
thoroughly debated the male marginalization thesis with regard to the ubiquitous
underperforming Black men living in Kingston’s garrisons.286
Jamaican scholar Anthony
Harriott explains that “there is this idea that poor men can’t be responsible and money will go
to the bar; whereas, women are more likely to invest the money…Maybe women are less of a
risk” (Interview, 29 September 2009). It is evident that societal expectations are narrow when
it comes to the role of poor males; and there is a need to broaden the definition of
“masculinity” in Jamaica so that it includes marginalized males.
Jamaican scholars Errol Miller and the late Barry Chevannes argued that there is a
stigma against young males from the ghettos (Interviews, October 2009). However,
286 Discussion about male marginalization merits more investigation. Miller (1991, 166) argues that patriarchs—
that is, men of the dominant group—in defending their own interests, punish men from the lower economic
strata.
250
Caribbean feminists, such as Barriteau (1998), dismiss Miller’s (1991) male marginalization
thesis, finding that it discounts female oppression and inequalities. Miller’s thesis takes a
class stand by redefining the concept of patriarchal domination, arguing that wealthy males
(usually fair-complexioned) oppress not only women but also disadvantaged males from the
downtown ghettos (Miller Interview, 21 October 2009; Chevannes Interview, 22 October
2009).287
It is likely that an anti-male bias against poor males is as prevalent as the
inequalities women face in the country.
According to Miller (1991), Black men’s sense of responsibility is questioned,
whereas elite male behaviour is not scrutinized. Black men from poor backgrounds,
especially the young men in the inner cities, are vilified by the media (Miller Interview, 21
October 2009; Chevannes Interview, 22 October 2009; Hutchinson Interview, 29 July 2009;
Troupe Interview, 31 March 2009). Negative perspectives of poor Black males from the
downtown ghettos undoubtedly affect the perspectives of microfinance managers and staff.
One stakeholder who works extensively in peace-building in the inner cities remarked: “It is
not [just] any Jamaican male but poor young men from the marginalized areas who are
denied fair participation [. . .] yeah [. . .] not the uptown boys. Youth from the ghettos are not
the ones [clients] accessing micro loans” (Anonymous Interview, 29 July 2009).
What is apparent is that Jamaica’s context is different from the many countries in the
world where the implementation of microfinance has proven successful. Jamaican women
tend to be better educated than the men, and many of the female hustlas I interviewed had at
287 Discussions with Jamaican academic Chevannes suggested that feminists like Barriteau did not interpret
Miller’s work correctly, as he was in fact interested in the power between social groups (22 October 2009).
251
least some high school education, and a few exceptional cases had either at least primary
school (some have high school or community college education). Yet Jamaican men, who are
less educated and thus should be targeted by microfinance programs, are excluded from
them. The failure to understand gender within this particular context—where there is
exclusion of men—means that the micro-credit programs intended to help the vulnerable
instead exacerbate tensions, leading to violence against women by their male partners (Goetz
and Sengupta 1996, 56). Furthermore, the late Chevannes, reported situations in downtown
Kingston in which women who had acquired loans were in physical conflict with each other
over the scarce microfinance resources (Ulysse 2007, 150; Freeman 2001, 1031).288
The
discretion by powerful female lenders over which of the poor citizens can have loan access,
not only aggravates relations between the sexes, but complicates gender relations among
women: “rich higglers” versus “poor hustlas.” The educated females who run microfinance
institutions thus set up both gendered and classed oppressions.
Most Jamaicans do not dispute that poor people, including males from marginalized
areas, are under-represented in schools and later in various professional sectors (Hutchinson
Interview, 29 July 2009; Troupe Interview, 31 March 2009). Generally, inner-city residents
face many obstacles in gaining access to social and financial services. Men that I spoke with
argued that “being a man fram inna ’ere” (that is, being a Black man from the ghetto)
288 Women within the same economic class and same political stronghold were divided and aggressive women
were awarded microfinance, which created local conflicts. In Whitfield Town, “Dragon” (a self-professed area
leader and vendor) and “Anonymous” (a cook shop owner) both reported details about their fights with other
women over political issues. “Darkening,” a female hustla I interviewed in Zimbabwe (Arnett Gardens),
confided that she had fought with knives, icepicks, and acid with other women over money, men, and politics
when other women who got loans and gave her a “nasty attitude.”
.
252
affected them negatively. Almost all microfinance lenders in Jamaica preferred lending to
businesswomen. As highlighted in Table 6.1, while men constituted 38% (n = 144) of the
sample of hustlas interviewed, only 13% (n=10) of all loan recipients were male applicants.
Women hustlas, on the other hand, constituting 62% (n=144) of the sample, received 87% of
all loans. While nearly one-half (45%, n=65 out of 144) of all female applicants were
successful in obtaining loans, only 11% (10 out of 89) of male applicants were able to obtain
a loan. This data indicates that vital economic resources, designed to assist in the
development of the inner cities, are diverted away from poor men.289
Table 6.1 Female/Male Access to Microfinance in Jamaica
Data on Access to Microfinance
Total/% Hustlas interviewed 233 100%
Number/% of women hustlas Interviewed 144 62%
Number/% of men hustlas Interviewed 89 38%
Total Hustlas with Microfinance 75 32%
Loan Recipients by Gender
Number/% of Females of all Female Applicants
who Obtained loans (65/144) 65 45%
Number/% of Males of all Male Applicants who
Obtained Loans (10/89) 10 11%
Number/% Women with Microfinance Loans of
Total Micro Loans (65/75) 65 87%
Number/% Men with Microfinance Loans of
Total Micro Loans (10/75) 10 13%
289 In his own work, Yunus (1998, 59) argues that poor women are often more tenacious and resourceful than
poor men, and that to reach development goals, it was best that programs focus on women.
253
The reasons Jamaican lenders give for not lending to poor males are reminiscent of
slave and colonial times. On the plantations, white racists referred to Africans as “lazy.”
Jamaican lenders, mostly educated women, suggest that inner-city men cannot obtain a loan
because “Men are lazy” or “Men prefer jobs” (salaried jobs) or “Men want big money fast”
(Fieldwork, February–November 2009).290
Such comments reinforce the stereotypes that
civil society activists are trying to combat. This use of racialized name-calling to explain
exclusion in micro lending by middle-class, educated staff persons (who are mostly female)
exposes the colonial legacy that continues to frame social relations in modern day Jamaica.
A senior microfinance person stated, “I prefer to give loans to women. It is young
men between 16 and 30 years old in high crime areas who are so violent” (Anonymous
Interview, details withheld). Another microfinance veteran stated bluntly that even if he is
ready to take a risk his financial backers will not: “My investors do not want to take risks
with their money and they [poor Black men in the slums] are a great risk” (Interview, 25
March 2009). More than half (52%, n = 17 out of 32) of the microfinance lenders interviewed
claimed that they “do not treat men and women fairly” and that a clear preference for women
does in fact exist. This finding is again reminiscent of the white colonial masters, who also
preferred female slaves more than the males (Miller 1991; Rodney 1981).
Male hustlas are aware that there is an operative bias in microfinance against them in
favour of their female counterparts.291
Several businessmen interviewed in the all-male focus
groups said that they know that microfinance managers (most of whom are women) do not
290 Some extreme views about men included, “Men are not as intelligent as the women” and “Men have too
many baby mothers.” Such stereotypes are often baseless but categorize a heterogeneous group of men. 291
Refer to Chapter 3 for the various discriminatory practices by micro lenders against male hustlas.
254
take them seriously as business people. In interviews and the all-male focus group sessions,
100% (n = 89) of the male hustlas indicated they were typecast as tief (Patois word for thief)
by staff persons in these agencies. Businessmen were of the opinion that elitist thinking
prevails where “women in the loan places follow the letter.” In other words, middle-class and
educated female microfinance staff persons are perceived to be uncomfortable working with
lower class persons, whom they deem poorly educated.
In 2000 when there were a number of microfinance organizations piloting services, it
became apparent that Jamaican men were the minority among borrowers, and programs
excluded males (the same issue unfolded in Haiti). Most surprisingly, I found that dress,
behaviour, and physical appearance were more important issues with men than with women
in interviews. In interviews and the all-male focus group, men stated that they believed they
had to take particular care regarding their physical appearances or they would be
automatically rejected for a loan (Shortman Interview, 17 April 2009; Captain Interview, 3
September 2009; Anonymous Interview, 3 September 2009; Ras Interview, 3 September
2009; Wayne Interview, 3 September 2009; Focus group, Tivoli Gardens, 25 August 2009;
Arnett Gardens, 22 August 2009).292
One male hustla said, “Yuh need fi wear tie, put on nice
cologne, and dress up and den dem talk to yuh” (Tweety bird, Car washer, Focus group 22
August 2010). In other words, men from the ghettos feel they need to wear ties and cologne
and adhere to the business attire in order for micro bankers (who are mostly female) to speak
292After four months, I noticed that in the mixed focus groups I had in Kingston, women corrected and mocked
the English of male participants and men would withdraw from the discussions (Focus group, Tivoli Gardens 17
July 2009; Focus group, Arnett Gardens 16 May 2009).
255
to them. All the other men in the group laughed in response.293
For men, making their
appearances acceptable to microfinance staff persons was necessary for them to “get tru” (get
through) the approval system for a micro loan (Focus group Arnett Gardens, 22 August 2009;
Troupe Interview, 6 March 2009).
The financial needs of poor entrepreneurial men from the Kingston slums were
almost never mentioned by the microfinance retailers interviewed. Comments on why
women have an edge in microfinance included, “Women are the breadwinners,” “Women are
the natural outputs of the system,” “Women manage money better than men,” “Women are a
better credit risk,” and “Women tend to be better at business than men.”294
It seems clear that
these biased personal narratives are the reason staff working for microfinance retailers prefer
female clients (and see poor men from the ghetto as a high risk).
However, one private, non-mainstream (see chapter 3), finance company does
respond to the needs of poor men in the ghetto. Sixty percent of Kris An Charles’s clients are
men drawn from the lower strata: men in low-paying and low-status jobs and men who are
self-employed (Judith and Trevor Hutchinson Interviews, 12 May 2009). Kris An Charles’s
success among poor businessmen results in part from its reputation as an institution that
works with men. In Trench Town, Vincent, a 48-year-old businessman, explained, “I like
Kris An Charles’ way of doing business [with me]. Plenty man go in dere. [They] don’t ask
heap a question, no ‘fool fool’ question [inappropriate question] and [they are] not ’fraid to
lend to wi.” In the focus group sessions, the men approved of how private companies like
293 Humour and laughter often masked the painful experiences these men shared in the focus groups.
294 Rogaly (1996, 106) discusses the reasons microfinance institutions target women exclusively in many
countries.
256
Kris An Charles took account of specific male needs in Jamaican society and organized
policies to assist them: for example, providing private rooms to help them read and write
their loan applications.
Women’s greater success in securing loans can be partly explained by the different
ways men and women react to the loan process. Jamaican men are less likely to respond to
questions they do not find necessary to the loan process and they will end the discussion if
they are offended (Focus group, Arnett Gardens, 22 August 2009). Women explained to me
that they answer all the questions (and complain later at home). In contrast to men, women
are also more likely to ask for help in completing the loan applications; a man will not do this
(Budhan Interview, 24 September 2009; “Flippy” Focus group, 22 August 2009; Campbell
Interview, 28 May 2009; Hutchinsons’ Interview, 12 May 2009; Anonymous Interview
JNSBLL, 25 February 2009; Rahman 1999).
While all of the business persons included in this study had at least some secondary
education, businessmen in the all-male focus group sessions admitted that there are many
men who cannot complete the application forms. In Arnett Gardens, Dolvin, a 35-year-old
businessman with his own painting company, explained: “Some man ’fraid of a paper ting.
‘Im can’t fill out paper. [He can’t complete the paper work on his own]. Man won’t say it
[publicly]. It’s a pride ting—so easiest ting is to go [so as not to feel ashamed or hurt his ego
or pride, he opts to leave]” (Focus group, 22 August 2009). “Ras,” a self-employed taxi
driver, stated that, “Kris An Charles has a side room at their offices, which is private, and a
person can go in there and someone [a loans officer helps them] fill out the form” (Notes
from RAs in Whitfield Town and Rosetown, September 2009).
257
Male clients want personnel and programs that listen and respond to their gender-
specific needs, rather than insisting that men conform to a system largely designed for
women. Men interviewed stated to me that “mostly men” go to Kris An Charles and that “a
man officer deal wid men betta.”(Translation: Most men go to Kris an Charles (Private
finance firm) because they find that male bankers that work there treat them better.) In other
words, males felt that male staff persons are better able to meet their needs. In contrast, 86%
(n = 77) of male hustlas interviewed claimed that most loan officers working for mainstream
microfinance providers tend to be women, and that these loan officers would not approach
them. Men perceive the anti-male bias as a conspiracy against them because they argued that
microfinance managers (who are mostly female) prefer women clients.
Females Dominate Jamaican Microfinance
The Global Entrepreneurship Monitor study (Kelley et al. 2010, 17) finds that
Jamaica’s poor women lead the island’s micro enterprises and that females (also known as
higglers) are the frontrunners in petty commerce (Witter 1989; Harrison 1988; Katzin 1959).
Despite high levels of female unemployment and a generally patriarchal society, there is a
pronounced feminization of university-level education in the country (Mohammed 2000;
Henry-Wilson 1989).295
Women managers and experts are visible in the economy and
politics. For example, Portia Simpson-Miller was the country’s first female prime minister
(re-elected again, December 2011), and there are many high-profile leading businesswomen,
including Audrey Marks of Paymaster and Thalia Lynn of Island Grill (Jamaica Observer,
295 Jamaica is fortunate to have high literacy rates (ESSJ, 2008); however, males trail behind females (ESSJ
2008; PIOJ 2004, 25; Miller 1991, 78).
258
March 2010). Mullings (2005, 1–5) makes a compelling argument that the presence of
middle-class Jamaican women as senior managers in banks illustrates that greater gender
equality has increased the participation of educated women in the workforce. She finds that
this feminization of Caribbean managers has led to their increasing social power overall,
which is now accorded to browning women who work in non-traditional roles.
Elite browning (light-skinned) women have moved into what are sometimes called
“old boys’ banking networks” (Mullings 2005). In doing so, such women have become
visible in the banks. As these elite women increasingly hold important managerial roles,
making inroads into male-dominated jobs, they challenge the gender stereotypes of women
both in the home and in the workplace. This increasing female influence in banking, and in
the microfinance sector specifically, suggests the emergence of gender inclusiveness. This is
a wrong assumption. Poor Jamaicans, especially males from marginalized areas in Kingston,
(who need loans the most) are denied financial services.
In downtown
Kingston, most of the
leadership positions in
micro banks are women,
and most of the borrowers
are low-income women.
Many MFIs boast that at
least 75% of their clients are
women. As indicated by Figure 6.1, 73% of the microfinance lenders are female. Seventy-
259
one percent of all the senior staff in wholesale microfinance, 78% loan officers and 58%
managers are female. At the highest level of leadership, such as CEOs and managing
directors, there is a 52/48 ratio in favour of men. At the financial frontlines, 78% of the loan
officers of women, and they earn an average of between USD $9,534 and USD $20,000 a
year, excluding bonuses.296
Women on average are better educated and excel more at school than men. The
Planning Institute of Jamaica (PIOJ) data shows that the educational attainments of women
are substantially higher than that those of men, particularly at the tertiary levels (ESSJ 2008,
Chapter 22). This may be one finding that explains why women are the preferred clients of
university-educated female bankers. Female-focused microfinance programs reveal that loan
officers and managers select women clients to protect their own financial incentives (e.g.,
bonuses). For example, because salaries and bonuses are tied to performance results, staff
people (who are females from middle class families and usually university educated) lend to
people they feel comfortable with, and do not take risks with those they perceive as different
(Rogaly 1996).
Findings in the Jamaica case revealed that loan officers (males and females) judged
unwed mothers as “slack” and not serious about business. One loan officer views women
who have had children by different men as a potential risk (Tricia Interview, 3 June 2009;
Baby G Interview, 5 May 2009; Anonymous Interview, April 2009, details withheld on
purpose; Ionie Interview, 3 March 2009). In a similar fashion, in the Guyana case (see
296 JNSBLL and Nation Growth pay high salaries for loan officers: In a meeting at JNSBLL, it was confirmed
that loan officers earn approximately USD $20,000 per annum (February 2009; Survey August 2009).
260
chapter 4), micro lenders follow a “hidden transcript,” in which Indian managers value
married status over single-mother status (Anonymous Interview, April 2010, details withheld
on purpose).297
This married condition policy favors Indos and excludes Afro-Guyanese,
who tend to be involved in visiting (common law) relationships and unmarried unions.
A female hustla I interviewed suggested to me that it was not her gender but rather
the slum where she lived (class location) and her unwed status with several baby fathers that
inhibited her access to microfinance (Anonymous Interview, 23 July 2009). In the downtown
context, single mothers are the norm, and in my work there, it was not viewed as a bad thing.
Yet, women who have children with more than one man said they were labelled by
(educated) staff persons as “slack” (sexually promiscuous) (Focus groups, 20 March and 16
May 2009). A female loan officer explained to me that bonuses are linked to loan portfolio
quality (Armendáriz and Morduch 2007, 280), and she saw certain behaviours (e.g.
promiscuity) as risks.
Microfinance staff persons would apply their own class biases to apply a definition of
“good character” that does not fit with women living in the downtown slums. A 42-year-old
female hustla named “Baby G,” who owned a sewing business and was the single mother of
four children all by different men, argued that she was constantly rejected for a micro loan
because of her lifestyle (Interviews, 5 May and 25 July 2009). According to Baby G, a young
male loan officer “downgraded mi” [insulted me] when he asked, “How many baby fathers
do you have?” and “Was the last man any good?” It is clear this loan officer asked personal
297 Rahman (1999) coined the idea of “hidden transcript” when he was analyzing Grameen bank and public
policy versus policies that are made behind the scenes.
261
questions that were not relevant to a profitable sewing business. From a business standpoint,
one could argue that a businesswoman who has multiple partners also has access to other
persons to support her loan repayments in case of default. Instead, class-identified managers
judged her unmarried lifestyle as immoral because it did not conform to middle-class and
uptown values. In the next section, I examine how a highly feminized microfinance sector
appears to have harmful consequences for men.298
Gender Bias: Exacerbating Local Conflicts in the Slums
Women-dominated microfinance programs appear positive, but when more closely
examined they reveal inequality in their exclusion of poor males.299
Jamaican scholar Tafari-
Ama (2006, 189) argues that allocation of subsidies to certain community members
contributes to local conflicts. Microfinance also contributes to internal group conflicts when
scarce resources like microfinance go only to certain types of women in a community. When
educated female managers select certain female clients with whom to do business, this comes
at the exclusion of males, and actually creates a “disempowering effect,” for women because
domestic violence increases (Bedford 2009, 49; Big Reds Interview, 31 March 2009; Sico
Interview, 26 May 2009; Marcia Interview, 12 May 2009; Millie Interview, 6 May 2009;
Rahman 1999, 72). Many women knew they were favoured over their male counterparts
(“Mrs. Burrell,” 18 April 2009; “Miss Paddy,” 27 March 2009). However, not all women
received loans, given the tier-system in selecting certain kinds of women, ones that
conformed to middle-class morale codes (Anonymous consultant Interviews, April 2009).
298 I use the term “highly feminized” to refer to the female domination of the microfinance sector by women as
staff as well as clients. 299
Ledgerwood’s Chapter 1 on country context has assisted me in sharpening my view in terms of gender
dynamics in microfinance.
262
High male unemployment in slums and a system that seemingly prioritizes women in
the allocation of resources increase the possibility for social conflict at the local level.300
Female hustlas explained to me that they suffer physical or verbal abuse and quarrels when
their male counterparts are excluded from resources, especially in family-owned businesses
when a couple works together, as were 18% of the businesses considered in this study. The
family enterprises that had received a micro loan (in the past) were successful because male
partners agreed to let their female partner navigate the system and apply for the loan.301
These men feel rejected and that their manhood is threatened when lenders would rather do
business with their female partners. This leaves women—who need the loan for the family
but want to appease their men—in an ambivalent space. Increasingly scholars (Bateman
2010; Bedford 2009; Ahmed 2008; Armendáriz and Roome 2008) criticize micro and small
programs for their exclusive focus on women because family units endure the resulting
domestic conflict of program biases.
Within the same social class, poor men and women can perceive themselves as pitted
against each other in a scramble for scarce resources (Tafari-Ama 2006, 189; Miller 1991,
136). Women micro entrepreneurs interviewed in this study believed that micro-credit
allocated exclusively to them complicated their personal lives unjustifiably, claiming that the
deep frustration felt by the men they lived with has serious consequences for them (Focus
groups, 2009; Rahman 1999, 72). Faye, a 49-year-old vendor from Maxfield Park, argued
that “Yuh can’t leave mi man down like that. We is all di same inna ’ere” (Translation: You
300 The local data from the SDC is most helpful when looking at unemployment rates in the slums, as certain
urban areas have very high unemployment rates compared to national averages. 301
Women clients would also hand over micro-credit to their male partners as needed (Goetz and Sengupta
1996, 53).
263
cannot leave my man down like that. We are all the same in here (in the slum) (Interview, 20
March 2009). In other words, what I learned was that many women did not feel it was
reasonable to exclude men from microfinance programs. Men and women of the same class
grouping are in this struggle together. Female entrepreneurs like Faye felt that programs that
reject men (e.g., their husbands, brothers, and sons) who belonged to the same social class
were an affront to them as a family. Generally, female hustlas were not supportive of
programs that focused only on women because they believed that their sons and husbands
deserved the opportunity for financial success.
Clear evidence that the bias in microfinance lending contributes to domestic violence
became apparent during an all-male focus group, when a young man who owns a barber shop
in Trench Town recounted that he used to “punch up” his baby’s mother (a visiting
relationship) because of the tension over finances, including a time when she got a loan.302
Frustrated over his social situation, he explained, “When a mon cyant be a mon, he cyant do
nuttin.” In other words, this subject felt that a man who cannot earn a living and provide for
his family is not a man. Bedford (2009, 62) found that in LAC region there were “wounded
masculinities” that has a negative impact on women and families. Men who are chronically
unemployed feel societal pressure to make a respectable living and to provide adequately for
their families, and when a Jamaican man is unable to carry out these functions, he is
perceived as a social failure. Aware of this perception, he releases his anger on women.
Ahmed (2008, 122) also found in a study on microfinance and masculinity in Bangladesh
302 Miller (1981, 96) explains that marginalizing poor males results in domestic crimes against women.
264
that the exclusion of men from lending programs exacerbates violence in the household.303
Women in most places want their men to succeed because it contributes to the well-being of
the family.
In a Tivoli Gardens focus group, 21% (n = 19) of businessmen expressed the belief
that their women obtained the loans because the male loans officer wanted or had sex with
his woman (Focus group, 25 August 2009). Some businessmen had the perception that the
their partners were in a position to trade sex for loan payments (highly unlikely given that
most staff persons are women).304
This attribution of their women’s success in obtaining a
micro loan to sexual promiscuity signaled to me the need for men to save face: it was
psychological compensation for their own humiliation for failing to obtain a loan
(Vonderlack-Navarro 2010, 136).
Guyana’s Microfinance: Race Structuring and a Women’s Place
In Guyana, Black female hucksters have a long tradition in micro enterprise,
including leading informal banks like Box hand (Besson 1996). Women were also pioneers
in the village movements. All of these activities are testimonies to an entrepreneurial spirit of
Afro-Guyanese. Yet, Blacks are negatively stereotyped by Indian males as lazy (Kissoon
2010a and b; Gibson 2006). Over the years, subsidized micro-credit projects (discussed in
chapter 4) have had a female focus, but these programs failed. Indian male managers running
these programs see loans (especially large ones) as bad risks when allocated to Afro-
303 Ahmed (2008, 145) makes a compelling argument that MFIs need to understand the varieties of
masculinities and that excluding supportive males can have a negative impact on female clients. 304
A “baby mother” is a woman who is a single parent (child’s mother), and she may or may not be in a visiting
(unmarried) relationship with a man.
265
Guyanese. Indo managers treated micro loans to Afros as charitable projects because they do
not believe women’s micro enterprises can be sustainable. Former president Jagdeo’s
program for single mothers, Women of Worth (WOW) was viewed with skepticism by Afro-
Guyanese because they see it as a stigma against them (Benschop Interview, 7 May 2010;
Bristol Interview, 4 May 2010; Senior official at the Ministry of Finance Interview, 15 April
2010).305
It is too early to tell but skeptics of WOW believe that most loans will go to
widowed Indian women.
Guyana’s case suggests (although it is a small sample) that race is more important
than gender in accounting for the discriminatory allocation of credit. Hucksters argued that it
is their racial and ethnic identity (Afro-Guyanese) and not their gender that excludes them
from microfinance. The salience of race as an identity over gender is further illustrated by the
fact that women’s organizations such as Red Thread,306
Women across Borders, and
Caribbean Association for Feminist Research and Action (CAFRA), rather than being unified
over gender-based oppressions, are deeply divided by race, class and politics (Benn
Interview, 7 May 2010; Seaforth Cordis Interview, 30 April 2010; Andaiye and Marcus
Interviews, 1 November 2008). The women’s organization Red Thread was labelled as a
political and leftist organization, alienating those women who did not feel comfortable with
the group’s left politics (Nettles 2007, 58). Although feminist organizations should,
theoretically, be able to unite women suffering domestic violence across racial backgrounds,
the women stakeholders I met appeared separated by their multiple identities of race, class,
305 WOW selects women with incomes less than USD $195 a month. See more at:
http://www.microcapital.org/microcapital-brief-women-of-worth-wow-mircofinance-scheme-in-guyana-to-
help-single-mothers-access-loans-expands-to-essequibo/ 306
See Nettles (2004) and Trotz (2004, 9–16) for details about Red Thread.
266
politics, religion, and urban/rural residency (Benn Interview, 7 May 2010; Seaforth Cordis
Interview, 30 April 2010).
Thus, an Indo-centric micro banking sector discriminates against Afro-Guyanese men
and women because of their race and ethnicity, not because of gender. As shown in Table
6.2, although the numbers for the Guyanese sample are extremely small, they suggest that
Blacks are excluded from the possibility of obtaining loans. Table 6.2 shows that 30% of the
men who applied for loans received them, versus 11% of the women. Among the five people
who obtained loans, three of those were Indo-Guyanese males; however, not a single Afro-
Guyanese male obtained a loan, despite the fact that only 4 of the 29 loan applicants were
Afro men.307
Two women obtained loans: one Afro and one Indo. The fact that financing is
largely managed by Indo males managers likely explains why Indo males are more likely to
access credit, and why only one Afro woman got a loan (and a very small one) when
accepted as a client. Although the numbers are very small, they do suggest that in the
Guyanese case, being female is negatively correlated with obtaining a micro loan and that
being black and male might also be particularly disadvantageous.
The Guyana case provides only impressions of what may be happening in the sector.
As noted earlier, the undisclosed married condition policy penalizes Afro-Guyanese, who are
less likely to be married. In one interview, an Indo-Guyanese manager (name withheld)
explained to me that the married condition policy helps to ensure repayment of micro loans
307 It might be argued that this low success rate stemmed from the fact that few Afro men applied for loans—
perhaps because they did not think they had a chance
267
by both parties (as discussed in chapter 4). Indian managers were not able to explain how this
policy may disqualify Black families.
Table 6.2 An Analysis of Micro Loans by Gender and Race in Allbouystown
Number of Hucksters who Applied for Loans 29 100%
Number/% of women hucksters 19 66%
Number/% of male hucksters 10 34%
Number/% of hucksters with a loan 5 17%
Loan Recipients by Gender and Race
Number/ % of Females of all
Female Applicants who obtained loans (1 Indo, 1 Black)
(2/19) 2 11%
Number/ % of Male Applicants with Micro loans (all
Indos) (3/10) 3 30%
Number/ % of Women with Micro Loans 2/5 2 40%
Number / % of Men with Micro Loans 3/5 3 60%
Number/ % of Afro women with a loan /of all women
applicants 1 5%
In one interview, Sita, an Indo-Guyanese female vendor, argued that the married
requirement works for Indian couples. Sita is married to an Afro-Guyanese man but was
unable to access a micro loan. In her view, being married to a Black man (Afro-Guyanese) is
a disadvantage for successfully obtaining a micro loan (Focus group, Allbouystown, 28 April
2010). On one hand, the married condition policy works for poor couples. On the other hand,
the requirement may not work for Blacks: a Black food vendor, Rhea, explained that being
married to an Indo-Guyanese man did not ensure her access to microfinance (Interview, 27
April 2010). These two cases suggest that racial bias combined with the “married policy”
work to exclude Black people. Interracial marriages did not succeed in getting loans.
Although it would require a larger sample to verify this, the “married condition” policy
268
seems to give priority to Indian unions but not to black or mixed racial married couples
(Alonze Beaton Interview, 30 April 2010; Phillips Interview, 30 April 2010; Anonymous
Interview, 17 April 2010).
Indian bias in micro banking is based more on race than on gender. Black business
people who access finance receive very small loans because Indian staff do not trust them to
repay the loans (Alonze Beaton Interview, 30 April 2010; Focus group, Allbouystown, 28
April 2010; Anonymous Interview, 1 November 2008). As mentioned in chapter 4, two male
micro lenders (one Indo; one Afro) confirmed that Black hucksters get smaller loans than
Indos, but each had a different explanation as to why. The Indo lender (who does not track
loans by race) explained that Indians have a family network (buddy system) to tap into for
small loans and felt that Indians are “honest” and demonstrate a “willingness to repay loans”
(Persaud Interview, 19 April 2010).
Microfin, which tracks loan sizes by race and is run by an Afro-Guyanese, discovered
that large loans go to Indo-Guyanese because Indians do not apply for small loans. He too
found that Indians, instead, have relatives to assist them with very small loans, whereas Afros
do not. However, Microfin data also suggests that a systemic bias against Black businesses,
may exist which may be due to an ingrained cultural bias, and has little to do with the needs
of borrowers (Harlequin Interview, 16 April 2010). This is illustrated through Black female
hucksters’ claims that Indo lenders were more likely to deny them access to loans or to larger
loan sizes (“Nee” Interview, 26 April 2010; “Big Mama” Interview, 20 April 2010; “Franco”
Interview, 20 April 2010).
269
Haiti: Complications of Female Privilege
Haitian women are revered as the poto mitan because of their work in the informal
sector to support their families. The USAID report (2008) found that 77% of the Haitian
microfinance clients are women (Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28–29 September 2010).
Female ti machann access micro loans from lenders, who are predominantly educated males.
The picture in Haiti resembles that of many micro-credit programs in other parts of the
world, where poor women receive loans from educated male managers (Mangones Interview,
11 October 2010; USAID Report 2008; Ahmed 2008; Rankin 2001; Rahman 1999).308
This
set up does not seem to be problematic.
Haitian lenders argue that women create demand, and are more entrepreneurial as
well as self-driven to repay loans than men (St. Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010; Marcelin
Interview, 5 October 2010). Favouring women as clients appears to have positive
consequences for social development because of women’s central role in family duties
(Yunus, 2007; Rutherford 2000; Rogaly 1996). However, the increased debt that women
shoulder has increased pressure on them and allowed male partners to reduce their financial
responsibilities in some communities (Vonderlack-Navarro 2010, 124; Bedford 2009, 47;
Ahmed 2008, 124; Goetz and Sengupta 1996, 56). This increases burdens on females because
men see their female partners benefiting from micro loan programs, and feel less inclined to
take up their share of the work. As in the Jamaican case, microfinance lending that favours
women creates a different set of challenges for Haitian families.
308 Ahmed (2008) tried to access data on the number of male employees at Grameen but was unable to get this
information.
270
Unlike the Jamaica case, where the exclusion of men from loans created anger,
Haitian men did not seem upset that women received more loans than they did. Haitian men
reportedly renege on their financial commitments to their families, thus increasing financial
burdens not only on women, but on children who get drawn into the work too (Dieufait
Interview, 5 October 2010; Calpas Interview, 30 September 2010; Vonderlack-Navarro 2010,
128; Rahman 1999, 72). Women responsible for the family’s financial welfare and for the
repayment of loans will depend on the labor of their children working in the family business.
Thus, once again, microfinance that targets one gender over another has a negative impact on
the women it tries to help. With males excluded from access to loans, there is now a
commensurate burden on women to repay debts by themselves (Fieldwork, October 2011;
Mangones Interview, 11 October 2010; Vonderlack-Navarro 2010, 132).
Consideration of how gender relations operate within a particular context is vital to
understanding a bias in allocation of financing. In all three cases, the gender of the lenders
was not the main factor influencing loan allocation and the impact on borrowers. In order to
understand each situation, we must consider other biases, particularly those of class and race.
For example, Jamaican lenders (most of whom are female) hold clear class biases. They
allocated microfinance disproportionately to a certain type of women—excluding women
with a lower-class life style and men whose speech, illiteracy, and personal style violated
middle-class sensibilities. These choices negatively affected household relations.
In the Guyana case, while it is true that more Indo men than Indo women received
loans, the Indian credit agents and managers (most of whom were male) excluded poor Afro-
Guyanese clients, both men and women. Hence, the gender dynamic is only one factor in a
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complex interplay of identities interfering with fair lending processes. In Haiti, male-run
microfinance organizations appear to be offering inclusive financial services to largely poor
women clients. Furthermore, the male lenders who self-identify with the poor ti machann
have not used their social class to harm relations at the household level; rather they have used
their own personal experience to assist poor women’s access to financing. However, there is
a possibility that emphasizing loans to women may enable male partners to withdraw from
contributing to the household.
Microfinance for Haitian women appears to be a mixed blessing: women can access
loans yet there may be extra burdens placed on women. Ti machann explained that small
business financing has given them independence, voice in financial decisions in the
household and more respect from men (Focus groups, 9 October 2009). While all women
stated that loans contributed to increased incomes, a few ti machanns (30%, n = 4)
interviewed admitted they gave their loans to their male partner/husband to either leverage
his business activities or to keep the peace (Fieldwork, 2011 and 2008; Jean-Louis Interview,
3 October 2010; Molyneux 2001, 181). Moreover, female borrowers mentioned in the focus
group that post-earthquake problems and debt have increased burdens for them. These
financial burdens have created mental and physical stresses because their male counterparts,
who are excluded from the programs, do not assist them to repay these loans (Focus group, 9
October 2009).
Three Microfinance Cases: Rethinking Gender in Context
It is assumed that microfinance caters to mostly female clients, but this is not clear in
the Guyana case as the largest lender only reaches 22% female clients (See Table 4.1 in
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chapter 4). Nor are female focused loans always a positive development intervention. As
noted in Table 6.3 (see below), when micro lending operates in an exclusionary manner to
favour clients based on class, race, or gender, these biases may contribute to inequalities if
the lender does not program appropriately for the social context—as they do in the Haiti case
(Molyneux 2002, 182). Even in Guyana, where race affects female hucksters’ ability to get a
micro loan, so too does their gender. Women generally have less access to microfinance than
men, while Indo males are likely to get microfinance (and larger-sized loans).309
In Jamaica and Haiti, the gender-based issues differ accordingly. Jamaican women
dominate microfinance both as clients and as staff persons, and this leaves poor young males
and certain women marginalized. In contrast, Haitian lenders who are mostly men prefer
lending to female clients, which in time may be an issue (Extantus Interview 14 October
2010; St. Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010; Palme Interview, 30 September 2010). A 2007
issue of a periodical published by the Canadian Mission in Port-au-Prince (Magazine de la
Cooperation Canadienne en Haiti July 2007) stated that only 19% of the managers in the
credit union sector were female, and 47% of the clients were female. Despite the fact that the
number of women staff persons is low, the caisses populaires remain gender balanced in
terms of their outreach.
309 Trotz (2004, 5–7) contends that gender analysis is needed when analyzing the race politics (e.g., the 1960s
race riots, the violence after the 2001 election).
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Table 6.3 Gender Analysis of Microfinance in the Three Cases310
Jamaica Guyana Haiti
Business people say there is gender-bias Yes No Yes
Mostly female clients get loans Yes NA Yes
Males dominate institutions No Yes Yes
Women clients feel vulnerable when targeted by
microfinance Yes No No
Signs of women disempowering effect in
microfinance Yes No Mixed
Haiti: Domination of Black Male Lenders
In Haitian society, mulatres and blancs men dominate big business and influence the
political affairs; and the elite noirs men have had stakes in politics since independence. In
some educated middle-class families, men and women share decision-making, but this has
not been the norm (Anonymous Interviews, 3, 7, 14 October 2010). For generations, Haitian
men have not only controlled the public space, but the private realm as well (N’Zengou-Tayo
1998, 120). In the Bon Repos focus group, Orphise, a 50-year-old cola vendor, and
breadwinner explained to me that her husband is in charge of the family and makes all
decisions (Focus group, 9 October 2010). Female-focused microfinance has not resulted in
changed (violent) behavioural or cultural patterns between Haitian men and women.
As in other contexts, a Haitian woman’s access to micro-credit changes the family
dynamic in traditionally organized households, where men control the decision-making.It is
not clear to what extent women’s access to loans negatively affects them. In the Bon Repos
310 The numbers in the Guyana and Haiti cases are too small to draw any firm conclusions; however, they do
suggest possible trends that require further investigation.
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focus group, all women agreed that if a man was in the household, he was in charge—even
when he did not have a job. Consequently, Marie Rose, a 42-year-old bar owner, told me that
she gives her micro loan to her male partner when he needs it for his own activities (ibid).
Different to Jamaica, Haitian stakeholders I interviewed remarked to me that their women
would act outwardly submissive to their male counterparts, and that was done to ensure
family peace, they agreed to and respected male demands to appropriate their micro loans
(Fieldwork 2010). Women with micro loans contribute to the family’s income (Ahmed 2008,
124; Mayoux 2001, 450; Rankin 2001, 32; Goetz and Sengupta 1996, 45); however, several
of the female ti machanns I interviewed said that they gave their micro-credit to the males or
let them have access to their business’ earnings (Focus group, Bon Repos, 9 October 2010;
N’Zengou-Tayo 1998, 127).
As highlighted in Table 6.3, Haitian men (like Indo-Guyanese men) tend to hold
senior rank, dominate the boards, and are the shareholders in most commercial banks. At
Sogesol, Daphne Loussaint Heraux—a light-skinned311
Haitian woman—is the director
general, and Pierre-Marie Boisson—a mulatre—is the president. Though Black Haitian
women are visible as microfinance clients, few run the MFIs.312
In 2011, Fonds Haitiens
d’Aide a la Femme (FHAF)—which since 1982 has traditionally had female directors like
Francine Celestin—appointed a male director, Wesner Marcelin. KOTELAM, the country’s
largest credit union with 45,000 members, is headed by a very dark-skinned Haitian woman,
Marie Marcelle St. Gilles (St. Gilles Interview, 7 October 2010). Carine Clermont, president
311 Refer to chapters 1 and 2 for the use of the term “light-skinned.”
312 N’Zengou-Tayo (1998, 132) finds that many Haitian women are in senior positions in commercial banks.
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of Groupe d’Appui pour l’Intégration de la Femme du Secteur Informel (GRAIFSI), is also
active in a rural finance network, Konsey Nasyonal Finansman Popilè (KNFP). In the
expatriate-run MFIs, such as FINCA and Fonkoze, there is a large female presence at
managerial levels. At the first locally organized microfinance conference in Port-au-Prince
(September 28-29, 2010) there was one dark-skinned Haitian woman, Carine Clermont of
GRAIFSI, as a keynote speaker. In my interviews (n = 48), the managers (most of whom
were men) assumed that men are better suited to the hard work of mobile micro banking,
revealing an inherent male bias.313
Also evident was an anti-male bias against men in Haitian microfinance (as in the
Jamaica case), where lenders target women. Women are assumed to be vendors and reliable
clients for microfinance, and men from the slums are branded as criminal, dishonest and lazy.
One elite interviewee who works with women’s rights organizations stated that focusing only
on women stigmatizes them, exposing them to violence in the home and negatively affecting
male-female relations in general (Mangones Interview, 11 October 2010):
I am uncomfortable when there is no [gender] balance. I think there
should be an effort to look at competence or intelligence and use the
concept of poorest because the total exclusion of one group [men]
creates issues for women in other areas. When we say women
reimburse credit, what are we really saying about poor men? We
need “mixity.” Why reinforce a cliché [that poor men are bad] and
instill fears about our young [poor and Black] men? Gender is about
equity and a sole focus on women will not curb domestic violence.
(Anonymous Interview, details withheld)
313 McLeod Arnopoulos (2010, 169) makes a point that the reason the SKS Bank was male-dominated was
because Indian husbands would not allow their wives to become loan officers.
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Microfinance directed exclusively to women leaves them vulnerable to verbal and
physical abuse (e.g. Jamaica case). In the focus groups Haitian women did not reval any
domestic violence due to loans as in the Jamaica case. The women did explain that small
loans that are reserved for them increases their financial responsibilities because their men
withdraw from working when they know the women can access financing (Focus groups, 9
October 2010; Vonderlack-Navarro 2010). Nicole, a 31-year-old used shoe vendor, explained
that her male partner did not help her because she had a loan (Focus group, Bon Repos, 9
October 2010). Roudy, a 41-year-old male clothes vendor, said that he would not support his
wife if she already had a loan (Focus group, 9 October 2010). This reverts the onus on
women to manage a household by herself once she gets a loan.
Men who may also need a loan but find themselves excluded from micro-credit
programs resent pulling their weight in terms of family support, because they see the women
as able to manage all household expenses. This burden then falls directly on the woman and
she is forced to do everything on her own.314
In my fieldwork, I observed that the ti machann
had a noticeably calmer and quieter (also referred to as submissive) disposition compared to
the other two cases (Jamaica and Guyana). It was explained to me that this quiet demeanor
especially with men enabled women to negotiate their needs within households (Kabeer
2001). Ahmed (2008), Sengupta and Goetz (1996), and Rahman (1999) have criticized loan
programs because women do not have control over their loans. However, Naila Kabeer
(2001, 83) argues that Bangladeshi borrowers may actually be making calculated decisions
314 Vonderlack-Navarro (2010) finds that women clients in the Genesis microfinance program in Honduras, are
often to manage all family expenses once they get a micro loan.
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when they give their loans to their husbands because men’s businesses tend to be bigger than
theirs. Perhaps, Haitian women are also making strategic decisions on the best ways to use
their loans (Fieldwork, October 2011).
Conclusion
Micro lenders across all three cases were comfortable talking about gender identities
because they felt their programs reached women. However, in Jamaica and Guyana, where
race and class interacted with gender, managers in microfinance appeared less inclined to
discuss race and class identities as markers for exclusion. Gender identity is not the most
prominent identity in determining allocation of economic resources in all three countries and
operates differently in the three cases.
Context affects the gender dynamic differently in each case. I argue in this study that
gender must be studied in relation to the other identities, such as race and class.
Microfinance’s exclusive focus on women (as seen in the Jamaica case) has left men out of
the programs, put women in a precarious position, and created conflicts at the local level
(Rankin 2002, 18; Montgomery 1996, 300). The fact that there were more female managers
in Jamaican micro banking did not make allocation more inclusive. In fact, female privilege
in micro lending benefits only certain types of women, negatively affects allocation, and
significantly complicates relations between poor women at the local level. Furthermore,
female-focused financial programs exclude men, and this approach negatively affects the
very women it intends to help.
This study uncovered that the allocation of micro-credit according to gender and
social class is the principal aspect of Jamaican microfinance. Black men and certain women
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remain on the fringes of lending resources because of inherent biases of educated middle-
class female micro lenders, who subscribe to a colonial mentality (see chapters 2 and 3).
Gender bias in programs driven by elite women, who choose economically better-off higglers
or women in monogamous relationships, divides women in the slum communities. This fact
of gender-focused economic resources complicates relations among low economic strata men
and women in the ghettos.
In Guyana and Haiti, educated males dominate the staff in micro banking institutions.
In Guyana, gender identity operates in tandem with race, and a Guyanese woman’s gender is
considered in relation to her race. None of the Afro male or female hucksters I interviewed
saw gender as the primary reason for their exclusion from lending programs. The Indo-
Guyanese men who dominate micro lending discriminate against Black women clients and
give them much smaller loans than they give to Indo-Guyanese clients due to deeply
embedded cultural prejudices. Covert policies such as the “married condition” further
alienate Afro-Guyanese and privilege Indo-Guyanese, who tend to be in married unions.
In closing, Haitian micro lending mimics programs in many other parts of the
developing world, where educated indigenous males run microfinance programs for poor
females. Scholars (Ahmed 2008; Rahman 1999; Goetz and Sen Gupta 1996) have critiqued
an exclusive focus on women in microfinance because of the backlash and other negative
consequences for women’s rights. However, Haitian men do not complain about female
counterparts accessing loans, as do Jamaica men. Haitian lenders were recognized for their
conscious attempt to reach out to marginalized people (along class lines). However, there are
signs that more women should be promoted to senior levels in microfinance organizations,
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particularly in the caisses populaires. More in-depth research is needed to analyze the
burdens placed on poor ti machann—as men tend to forfeit their family obligations when
women receive loans. It is unclear from my findings, whether this is to avoid violence or
whether it is a strategic decision made by women because she finds that her husband’s
business earns more income for the family (Ahmed 2008, 122; Rahman 1999, 73).
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Chapter 7 Conclusion: Politics of Microfinance Compared
At the First Microcredit Summit meeting in Washington DC in 1997, Mohammed
Yunus (formerly with the Grameen Bank) claimed that microfinance was a phenomenon that
would make poverty a relic, relegating it to museums. Our children, he declared, would no
longer know what poverty is. Now, fifteen years after Yunus made that prediction, the
commercial models in microfinance face criticism from various parts of the world.315
Much
has changed since the heyday of microfinance in 2006: Yunus is no longer leading the
Grameen Bank and regulation in India and Bangladesh has curbed activities of private
retailers (Roodman 2012b; Bateman 2011).
When I first started this project in 2006, it was not popular to follow a critical
analysis of microfinance, as the industry had won the Nobel Peace Prize. But now I find that
people support the need to look more closely at the managers and staff persons managing
money given to the poor. This type of work, where one privileged group confers funds to a
disadvantaged group, merits as close a scrutiny as any other sector (Microfinance Banana
Skins 2011; McLeod Arnopoulos 2010, 317; Bateman 2010). When Maclean’s Gatehouse
(2006) first interviewed Yunus after he received the Nobel Peace Prize, he defended micro-
credit as a solution to terrorism and world poverty. Today, Yunus’s (NYT 2011; Yunus
315 See various newspaper articles from 2010 to 2012: “Think Again: Microfinance,” Foreign Policy 1 February
2012; “Microfinance under Fire,” New York Times 21 March 2011; “Microfinance under Scrutiny,” Economist
18 November 2010; “India's Major Crisis in Microlending—Loans Involving Tiny Amounts of Money Were a
Good Idea, but the Explosion of Interest Backfires,” Wall Street Journal 29 October 2010.
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2007b) views have changed, and he has observed that microfinance is not a stand-alone tool
to combat poverty nor can it correct structural inequalities.
Certain micro lenders, fixated on profit-making of their own institutions, have
foregone the promise to make financial services inclusive. Larry Reed of the Micro-credit
Summit Campaign (2012) reminds critics that lenders cannot be homogenized as one type.
This is a fair point. Yet, I found that the exclusion in microfinance takes place regardless of
the type of lender (e.g. financial NGOs, MFIs, commercial banks and small private firms can
exert bias against business people) in Jamaica and Guyana. This comparative study
demonstrated that certain micro lenders (of various types) go against this promise of
inclusive financing, excluding eligible business people because of deeply embedded
historically-rooted prejudices.
The identity biases of microfinance lenders exclude potentially viable micro-
entrepreneurs from accessing economic resources that could improve their livelihoods, as
seen in the cases of Jamaica and Guyana. When such bias is present, it lessens the
effectiveness of micro-credit as a poverty reduction tool and may exacerbate other social
problems, such as domestic and community conflict. Haiti’s case departs from the other two
due to the social origins of managers. Having people who know first-hand the lived
experience of their clients mitigates class and racial bias, and allows lenders to embrace a
revolutionary rhetoric that connects to marginalized groups and to draw on collective systems
that work for the people.
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This Study
This project is based on my six years of doctoral fieldwork. In my preliminary
fieldwork I had assumed that Jamaica would be the “good” case that would instruct the other
two (Guyana and Haiti). Jamaica’s long-standing, stable democracy and legacy of trade
unions led me to think that its lenders would avoid partisan and identity politics in micro
lending to the urban poor in Kingston. I expected Jamaican microfinance lenders (most of
whom were educated females) to be aware of the “garrison phenomenon” and to consciously
make micro loans to remedy the grinding poverty of the downtown slums. Instead, I found a
sector riddled with politicized programs that many of the poor avoid.
I also expected Haiti—given its reliance on foreign aid, the expatriate domination,
and its weak governance—to be the case illustrating politicized microfinance. Haiti’s
managers are political but in a positive manner. I did not anticipate that this island nation of
repressive regimes and polarizing politics would have inclusive microfinance. However, after
three extensive field trips (2008; 2010; 2011), it became apparent that formalized
cooperatives, caisses populaires (credit unions), and informal banks have led effective grass-
roots micro lending. Haiti shares with Jamaica and Guyana a politics of exclusion, where
dark-skinned Black people have been largely disenfranchised by whitened and brown
political elites. However, Haitian microfinance lenders recognize this entrenched system of
social inequality and use financing as a tool to empower—to give back—to the excluded
masses, and take risks to expand the notion of inclusive financing.
A comparison of Caribbean microfinance in Jamaica, Haiti, and Guyana reveals that
microfinance as a development tool has unfolded quite differently in each country. In many
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countries in the Global South, particularly ones with colonial and enslavement legacies,
societies remain stratified by various cleavages, such as race, class, and gender (Handelman
2011, 95–97). Microfinance operations in developing countries can exacerbate local conflicts
in cases where local managers belonging to a certain race or class, for example, use personal
prejudices to exclude certain persons: I found this to be the case in Jamaica and Guyana,
respectively. In spite of the prevailing perception that actors in microfinance are “champions
of the poor”—committed to transforming conventional banks to reach the poor—I show in
this project that the biases held by Jamaican and Guyanese lenders have created systems of
exclusion.
Through two of the cases, I argue that there are different outcomes when politics is
involved in micro-credit in socially stratified societies: microfinance can operate as
exclusionary where there is bias—as in Jamaica and Guyana; or it can be inclusionary, as in
Haiti. A blatant denial that cultural biases harm and interfere with microfinance allocation
does not mean that the managers and staff are unaware of its operation, however, I feel that
Jamaican and Guyanese lenders know very well that many of the urban poor are politically
ostracized. They exhibit a choice not to act to mitigate the prejudices that are part of their
sub-consciousness.
The very act of privileged people conferring monies to the urban poor in specific
social contexts, such as slums, is highly political; yet these Anglophone lenders refuse to
admit that politics is relevant within microfinance. This refusal to admit that racial and class
affects lending decisions means that there is little hope these biases will be mitigated. As
mentioned in chapters 3 and 4, in the Jamaica and Guyana cases, the failure to admit the
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problem results in its perpetuation and the continued exclusion of the urban poor—those
people micro-credit is intended to help—from loans. Poor entrepreneurs, aware of the
racial/class biases and potential for political manipulation, thus turn to informal banks (e.g.,
Partner, Box hand), tapping into local banking systems they trust. In this way, they can avoid
compliance (binding) to biased micro lenders or political elites.
The exclusionary politics of privileged class groups is commonly practiced in Port-
au-Prince, and this behavior has provided a moral justification for lenders (many not from
these class backgrounds) to lend to the majority of Haitians who are cut off from services,
including financial ones. Haiti’s educated Black microfinance managers are socially
conscious and they engage with microfinance as a revolutionary tool for social change. These
managers are fully aware that political exclusion disenfranchises the entrepreneurial poor.
Instead of ignoring the possible impact of race/class discrimination, they see micro lending as
a tool to counter deeply embedded economic divisions. Corrupt politics coupled with intense
racialized class conflicts frame the environment in which microfinance operates; yet
managers who run microfinance programs have staved off exclusionary practices in
microfinance, particularly through the caisses populaires. Haitians deliberately design and
execute financial programs that are collective and inclusive.
In this closing chapter, I first give a comparative overview of microfinance in the
Caribbean, focusing on the key findings from my three cases. Secondly, I discuss the themes
of this project that have relevance in political economy, including the politics of exclusion,
gender politics in micro-credit, clientelistic micro banking, and Black women’s agency in
informal banks in slum communities. Then, I point to directions for future research. Lastly,
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and most importantly, I end this work with policy implications. Jamaican and Guyanese
micro banking is problematic, and policy mitigations are needed to counteract internal
discrimination. Haiti’s case provides instruction for developing countries that are affected by
enslavement and colonization. As much as possible I look to Haiti’s case, as well as local
findings, to offer solutions on how to manage microfinance in such a way that it empowers
rather than oppresses vulnerable populations.
Micro-enterprise Development in the Caribbean
Despite powerful constraints, African slaves during colonial times engaged in
entrepreneurial activities and formal banking (St. Pierre 1999; Wong 1996; Witter 1989;
Mintz 1955). Informal and formal micro lending in the Caribbean thus predates the rise of
‘revolutionized’ microfinance in the 1980s as an international development tool. Caribbean
states have long made micro banking part of their strategy for poverty reduction: in 1949, for
example, the state-owned Penny Bank in Dominica made micro loans to the poor (Barriteau
2006; Lashley in Barriteau 2006). In colonial Jamaica, cooperatives assisted citizens in the
agitation for independence. Entrepreneurship has a long-standing experience in the region.
Because of the high levels of poverty and crime in most countries in the Caribbean,
donors and state actors have invested considerably into micro-enterprise development as a
way to fight poverty (Poto Mitan 2008; Tennant 2008; Lashley 2004; Rankin 2002; Rahman
1999). Yet the embedded prejudices of people running these microfinance programs interfere
with the social objectives of community and economic development. Caribbean micro
banking in Jamaica, Haiti, and Guyana reveals that lending unfolds quite differently
depending on context and history. This study demonstrates that in two of the cases pervasive
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societal racial, class, and gender divisions produce exclusionary outcomes in microfinance to
the urban poor.
Jamaicans and Guyanese living in the slums do not trust these programs because of
the lenders’ exclusionary practices. In both of these cases, politics is embedded within
microfinance programs. The findings also show the importance of the nature and attitudes of
micro bankers in shaping how resources are distributed. In the case of Haiti, racial and class
tensions in society do not determine microfinance allocation; lenders are conscious of the
potential negative consequence of such biases and strive to make micro lending inclusive.
Haiti’s pro-poor financial services are focused on grass-roots collective systems that check
race and class discrimination—as lenders hire staff who know the environment and people
they are working with.
Microfinance, the goal of which was to make micro-credit accessible to the
entrepreneurial poor, is in reality not easily accessible to Jamaican hustlas or Guyanese
hucksters. Jamaican lenders were unwilling to acknowledge the role of identity biases in the
allocation of micro loans; whereas in Guyana, they admitted to some degree their biases
without remorse. In Haiti, managers and staff, even whitened elites, were politically astute
and aware of class and racial conflicts. They have direct knowledge of the lives of those for
whom they organize programs to improve social conditions. In the summary of each case
below, the cases of Jamaica and Guyana show decision-makers whose microfinance
programs are socially removed from the lived reality of those seeking a micro loan. This
increases the potential for race and class biases, particularly in the socially stratified
Caribbean context.
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Biases in Jamaican and Guyanese Micro Loan Programs
In the Jamaica case, exclusionary microfinance takes place because class-identified
micro lenders (who can also be partisan) discriminate against certain hustlas because of their
class (e.g., location, language/education), race (e.g., skin colour, hair) and gender (e.g., men,
women with children by different fathers) and politics. Micro-credit’s apparent collusion
with political actors blocks the social empowerment aspect. Micro lenders and political elites
legitimize an informal order when they work through Dons because this structure oppresses
and limits the freedoms of hustlas. Politicized microfinance forces many business people to
make calculated decisions to exclude themselves from loan programs to avoid clientelistic
practices. As a result, hustlas turn to Partner banks, run by women, to resist the power of Big
Men. Partner banks, reaching tens of thousands of people, are testimony to the tenacity of the
hardworking hustlas, who use informal banks to be independent of political strongholds.
Those business people who refuse to take on politicized economic resources available to
them have engendered positive developments in their communities, which is what makes
their story in chapter 3 so compelling.
The case of Guyana illustrates the creation of powerful ethnic elites in a pluralistic
society. There, we saw how political power over time has resided with certain ethnic groups
to oppress other ethnic groups. Guyanese East Indians misuse this multicultural environment
to incite conflict between the dominant races in order to attain power for their own ethnic
group. As noted in chapter 2, Guyana’s politics is gripped by violent racial polarization
between the two dominant ethnic/race groups: Afro and Indo Guyanese. In the last 20 years,
an Indo-led authoritarian state has directed financial resources away from the Afro-Guyanese
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(Gibson 2006, 377). And the Indian political elites disburse economic resources to their rural
Indo-Guyanese voting base (see chapter 4).
Two decades of Indo-centric politics have produced an environment where the ruling
ethnic group has spread racist cultural narratives that stigmatize poor, urban Afro-Guyanese.
Most micro lenders (except for Afro lenders) were adamant that their racial discrimination
does not affect the allocation of micro loans. Yet, Indo lenders in interviews perpetuated
stereotypes of Afro-Guyanese, which undoubtedly affects how they make loans. In fact, a
major Indo-led microfinance lender uses a covert married condition policy when appraising
applications, a policy that results in the exclusion of Black hucksters, who are less likely to
be involved in legal married unions. The Guyana case thus demonstrates racial bias, since
Indo-Guyanese lenders are more likely to privilege Indian clients. In the slum of
Allbouystown, Afro hucksters interviewed were well aware of the racism against them in
microfinance, and know that the Indian PPP government does not make development a
priority in rundown Black communities. As a result, Afro hucksters have relied on Penny
Bank and Box hand, to meet their livelihood needs.
Haitian Lenders: Socially Conscious
Haiti, since its inception, has experienced hardship like no other country. It is a
country challenged by extreme poverty, unforgiving natural disasters, a vicious cycle of
undemocratic regimes, violent political leaders, and intense racialized class conflict. Yet, the
Haitian case stands out from the Jamaica and Guyana cases, demonstrating that history and
local organization can actually work to make microfinance inclusive. Haitian lenders, the
caisses populaires, have managed to stave off racial and class biases in the allocation of
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financing to the country’s poorest citizens. This is an exceptional finding, because
development aid in Haiti has in general not been effective.
Ti machanns showed a different attitude towards micro lending than the business
people in Jamaica and Guyana, who were skeptical of these programs and the people running
them. This difference in attitude arose through the fact that micro banking has developed in
Haiti during periods of extreme hardship. Cruel and oppressive regimes have alienated the
moun andeyo leaving them to their own devices, and cooperatives and caisses populaires
have been an important part of the local response. Managers who resemble the clients
understand this history and have cultivated lending programs that are radical in its discourse.
Most Haitians access money through the caisses populaires and informal banks. Both
types of banks have adhered to African-inspired systems of kombit (collectives), such as sol
and cooperatives, which have persisted under various repressive regimes. Most Black
Haitians I interviewed had a combination of pride and gratitude for the role of cooperatives
and caisses populaires in contributing to survival of the poor. Micro lenders have developed
financial programs that fit with this social context. Black Haitians have founded and run
cooperative and collective micro-lending programs through the caisses populaires. Micro
bankers genuinely understand the lived reality of the very people they work with and have
absorbed the cultural traits of the ti machanns (poor traders) they serve. Many come from
those social backgrounds, and others have simply embraced these values. Micro bankers
openly state that class discrimination infused with racism marginalizes the masses. The social
consciousness of these managers encourages them to use microfinance as a tool to transform
the economic situations of the poorest citizens. As a result, their design of and approach to
Haitian microfinance is inclusive of the masses—and they take serious risks in doing so.
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In interviews, Haitian lenders, foreign and local, discussed the importance of
economic democracy, and expressed the view that microfinance was the vehicle to assist
economically disenfranchised Haitians (Fieldwork, September and October 2010). As
highlighted in chapter 5, Haitian lenders use financial services to level the playing field for
excluded people. This attitude is remarkable given the corrupt and apartheid-like social
structure that exists in countries. The fact that most lenders are at most one or two
generations removed from the people they serve influences their philosophy and approach to
development finance. Haitian micro lenders, including the whitened managers, thus saw
microfinance as a tool to bring about economic democracy (defined to me as closing the
widening economic gap between the rich and the moun andeyo). And, in trying to upset the
status quo these lenders also risk their lives. In contrast to this revolutionary approach in
microfinance, bankers in the other two Anglophone cases hardly had an interest in the
economic transformation of society.
Although many international development projects in Haiti are viewed as political
and poorly managed, microfinance appears to be an exception (Zanotti 2010). Chapter 5
explains that the elite noir (educated Blacks) in micro-banking have used education as a
vehicle for upward social mobility (François Interview, 7 October 2010; Mangones
Interview, 11 October 2010; Colloque sur la Microfinance, 28–29 September 2010). Hence,
many banking managers and technical staff are Black with similar social backgrounds. And,
as I have outlined above, despite the racialized and class environment, these microfinance
sector staff are socially conscious and understand the experience of the ti machann.
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Significance of Findings to the Study of Politics
Micro lending in developing countries can exacerbate local conflicts when personal
prejudices result in the exclusion of certain persons from access to resources earmarked for
them. International development agencies and organizations offer aid to assist economic
growth through micro enterprise development, but these policies, cloaked in a larger
neoliberal political project have been simplistically championed without taking into account
the cultural diversity and inequalities in emerging markets. Financial programs that target the
entrepreneurial poor do not take into account the ways in which the local managers running
these programs pervert their purported aims. Micro lenders have the power to misuse
resources in ways that leave poor citizens (the consumers) at risk and counter development
goals of helping marginalized groups.316
And, this misuse of power makes the masses living
in the slums resentful of the local elites (Chua 2006).
The original intent of microfinance—to assist the poor excluded from conventional
banks by providing access to financial services—involved the attempt to correct social and
market failures that were unfair to certain groups of people (Wilson 2001; Rahman 1999). It
meant that banks, which catered to local business elites, had to widen their market reach and
had to rethink inherent biases (usually unfounded) about the poor and women. In state banks,
corrupt local elites (usually males) misused financial resources (e.g., loans) for their own
political ends. By the 1990s, the neoliberal push for free-market democracy coincided with a
316 Some donors in Haiti are aware of risks to poor consumers and are developing policies to protect
microfinance clients (Email, Fils- Aimé 2 August 2012).
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shift in the microfinance policy from a tool that was poverty-focused to one that was
commercial and would recover costs.
Microfinance’s reinvention in the 1980s was to make access to finance a reality for
excluded people in developing countries. Local microfinance managers who know of the
divisions in their own society, as in the Jamaican and Guyanese cases, have misused pro-poor
financial services to fit with their own prejudices. I find that the individuals running
microfinance programs who are focused on race and class issues conveniently reinforce the
profitability issue. As a privileged set of people in control of these resources, they are able to
use their own biases exclude certain groups (e.g., Afro-Guyanese are less likely to repay
loans). The goal of financial profitability is touted as a priority, and the microfinance
managers, who belong to a certain group, are able to put aside the social goals in micro-credit
to achieve profits (Bateman 2010; Rankin 2001). In doing so, lenders have reordered
microfinance to fit with their own personal biases. They misuse financial resources intended
to economically and socially empower marginalized people in the slums, and instead
reproduce inequalities through the processes in these enterprise development programs.
Neoliberal influenced commercial lenders focused on repayment of loans have been
problematic. However, in the Jamaican and Guyanese cases some local elites do not follow
the cost recovery goal of neoliberalism and they deny access to eligible business people
because of their own inherent biases (and not good business practice). Scale is a fundamental
measure of creating access and opportunities to the very poor; yet Jamaica and Guyana have
low outreach due to political or identity biases. And for them to be relevant in the
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microfinance arena, these lenders will need to adjust the way they do business to become
more inclusive and reach new borrowers.
It is fair to say that certain commercialized microfinance lenders that follow the
neoliberal politics to increase financial viability and reach new borrowers have had a
negative backlash in terms of inclusive outcomes. Yet opting out of the neoliberal economic
order is not an option for many Caribbean countries (nor do I think it would be a proposal
people would embrace). However, there may be ways to make the current economic system
work. Member-owned models in Haitian microfinance (which also focus on repayment rates
and profits) have a different ownership structure focused on its members, and they determine
by vote the sharing of the dividends. Perhaps, there is a way to appropriate neoliberal politics
to make banking democratic and locally-driven. The cooperative models share the dividends
and profits among members, and it is the membership who determines how profits are used.
The latter model suggests that within a neoliberal era that there may be a way to civilize
markets through collective ownership.
Political Elites’ Interference in Microfinance
Within certain societies, political elites and privileged ethnic groups are sufficiently
powerful that they shape both microfinance programs and access to such programs. As the
Jamaican case illustrates, state involvement in micro-enterprise development is important
because emancipating the urban poor through independent livelihoods can reduce compliance
to political bosses. This independence threatens the political elite. Political actors interfere in
microfinance because they want to be seen as benefactors for the poor masses. A prime
example occurred in Haiti after the 2010 earthquake. When a fire occurred in the Croix des
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Brossales market, President René Préval interfered in microfinance by legislating that the ti
machanns did not have to repay their loans. Managers in microfinance responded and Préval
used state resources to subsidize these losses because leaders feared politicians involving
themselves in microfinance to make policy. In India, the 2010 suicides of microfinance
clients in Andhra Pradesh resulted in increased government regulation to contain commercial
lenders, which favoured the government-owned self-help loan programs. In March 2011,
Prime Minister Sheik Hasina of Bangladesh ousted Mohammed Yunus, founder and Director
of Grameen Bank, because she was aware of the political advantages of controlling
microfinance to win electoral support (Roodman 2012a; New York Times, 21 March 2011).
Taking cues from other leaders, political elites in Jamaica and Guyanese are no exception,
and they have directly interfered in micro lending to control the urban poor.
Political control of the urban poor is a goal that goes beyond the three cases in this
study. In my comparative project, I have demonstrated that politics is already embedded
within many micro-credit programs and it is the manner in which local managers respond
that can either nurture political manipulation (e.g., Jamaica or Guyana) or stem biases (e.g.,
Haiti) from interfering with the allocation of micro loans. My research has shown that
microfinance manager behaviour is an essential element in the debate on the efficacy of
microfinance as a poverty reduction tool. Although I do believe that a few (brave)
practitioners would agree with my assertion, many others will not agree. In light of the recent
criticisms of microfinance, the literature has moved increasingly towards criticizing
microfinance as a neoliberal product. Yet it remains to scrutinize the individuals who
(mis)manage micro banking for the world’s poor. This research has focused on micro lenders
as the key variable in explaining problems of accessing microfinance.
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When local sub-elites (microfinance managers) capture lending programs and apply
their own race, class or gender biases against persons otherwise eligible for it, this
compromises the social development aspect of microfinance. Identity politics should not
determine who gets and who does get loans, yet intersecting identities such as race, class, and
gender actually do affect the allocation. Radical rhetoric of “economic democracy” espoused
by Haitian managers (foreign and local) is absent from the Jamaican and Guyanese discourse
on microfinance. Rather, Jamaican and Indo-Guyanese managers deny that their own identity
politics interferes negatively with micro-credit access to the urban poor.
Micro entrepreneurs in Jamaica and Guyana argued persuasively in this study (see
chapters 3 and 4) that they are indeed excluded from micro loan programs by biased local
microfinance managers who replicate inequalities in the larger society. Microfinance
managers who are prejudiced against certain clients reinforce clients’ feelings of distrust, as
in the cases of Jamaica and Guyana. In these two countries, micro lending reflects the deeply
entrenched class and race prejudices of those persons in positions of power. Hence, business
people do not trust these programs. Micro lenders in Jamaica and Guyana make matters
worse when they refused to admit the role of race and class in the allocation of loans. Haitian
micro lenders, even whitened elites, were intuitively aware of class and racial conflicts and,
despite the stratified social environment, used financial services in a radical way to benefit
those ostracized by political and business elites.
Exclusionary Microfinance in Jamaica and Guyana
In Jamaica, class (e.g., ghetto location) and gender (e.g., being male) are entwined
identities that make it difficult for poor people, especially Black men, to access micro loans.
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As shown in chapter 6, micro lenders, most of whom are educated females, who manage
these programs live far from the lived realities of the hustlas on whose behalf they are
supposed to make micro finance loans. Imported models of microfinance that are female
focused exclude poor Black men as well as women deemed sexually promiscuous by the
educated elite females running microfinance programs.
Biased racialized cultural narratives warp the telling of the Black entrepreneurialism
story in Guyana. The mostly Indo-Guyanese bankers, operating within a racialized political
environment, favour poor Indos over poor Afros. Poor Blacks, and to a lesser extent dougla,
are marginalized from economic resources. Jamaican and Guyanese micro lenders who
manage loan programs are not interested in socially conscious policies to overcome the
politics of exclusion that alienates marginalized groups. And, their blatant disregard for
social exclusion is what makes them and the programs they run disliked by many micro-
entrepreneurs in the slums.
Home-grown Caisses Populaires and Sols: Reaching the Masses
State weakness, extremely high levels of poverty, and the historical alienation of
Haiti’s moun andeyo all contribute to the vibrancy of both formal and informal microfinance.
Poor entrepreneurial people have had to organize. In spite of a weakened and corrupt state,
poor Haitians have a strong sense of democratizing local structures and pooling community
resources for the well-being of the community. Sols brought over by African slaves more
than 200 years ago continue to reach millions of economically poor Haitians, as noted in the
last section of chapter 5. Cooperative culture has been around for a long time and it is deeply
embedded in communities as a way to contest political wrongdoings. In this historical
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context, the caisses populaires, commercial banks, and NGOs have hired technically-
competent Blacks, diversified staffing, and hired personnel interested in adjusting financial
programs to the needs of Haitians.
Haitian micro lenders, Black and local whitened elites as well as foreigners, actively
engage in a discourse about economic democracy to correct social injustices by an entitled
minority, which controls the country’s wealth. While some micro lenders in Jamaica and
Guyana appear reluctant to speak about politics, race, and class, Haitian microfinance lenders
(Black, local whitened elites, and foreigners) are eager to discuss these issues. Local staff
persons working in microfinance programs, especially in the caisses populaires, are drawn
from the very communities they serve, and concepts of economic democracy are not mere
rhetoric but a part of the social agenda for these agencies doing business.
Gender Politics in Micro-credit
At first glance, gendered exclusion does not seem possible given that microfinance is
focused on women. However, in the Caribbean context, female-focused models exclude poor
males and complicate the living space for the female counterparts of these men. Microfinance
programs and methodologies that have been largely learned and borrowed from abroad fail to
take into account the local context. Brohman (1995, 130) stresses the importance of
programming for the local context. In chapter 6, this extrapolation of women-focused
financial programs supports the growing literature that it exacerbates intra-household conflict
between men and women and intra-community conflict among women of the same social
group (Ulysse 2007; Tafari-Ama 2006; Miller 1991). In Kingston, a preponderance of
females working in microfinance institutions at senior levels and a focus on women as clients
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do not ensure gender equality. Rather this gender imbalance disempowers and puts female
clients at risk for domestic violence (Jamaica case). Moreover, leaving poor men out of
microfinance contributes to internal disputes, and men exit from their duties and overburden
women with all the family’s financial obligations (Haiti case).
While access to microfinance is not exclusively gender-related (because class and
race biases also affect who can access a micro loan), gendered biases are occurring. Educated
women elites leading microfinance organizations are the main instigators of gendered biases
against poor males in the Jamaican case. Poor men must become a part of the development
process for change to occur in lower income communities. Failing to rethink gender in terms
of its context leaves micro business women in these communities disempowered in a
conflicted space, with angry and emasculated men. Jamaican men (potential clients) feel
excluded by the women in charge of these financial programs because these educated middle
class actors (not from the slums) are detached from the very people they are supposed to
serve.317
Comparative Gendered Reflections
Microfinance is run largely by Indo-Guyanese males who come to the job with a
general gender bias and an inherent prejudice against Afro-Guyanese as a whole. As I have
said before, based on the available evidence (which is admittedly only suggestive), that the
Guyana case, like the Jamaican, appears one in which racial discrimination is the primary
factor in explaining loan cases. Three of the five loans that were given went to Indo males.
317 “Hogman” mentioned that it was “women’s time” and that was why microfinance was going to females and
not to hardworking men like him, and he urged that in order to curb crime, microfinance managers needed to
“think men” (include males in their programs).
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However, their racism against Afro males may be even more powerful than their prejudice
against Afro women. In other words, racial bias may be deepened by gender (anti-male)
bias. As we saw, in my very small sample in Allbouystown, not a single Black man obtained
a loan, although one Black female did. Although Afro-Guyanese argue that their race
impedes them from obtaining access to microfinance, there is an impression that being male
and Black increases the likelihood of not getting a micro loan. It may also create an
environment where Blacks do not even bother to apply for loans because they believe they
have no chance of obtaining one. As in Jamaica, there is a view that Black men are less
reliable than women.
Microfinance access in Haiti reportedly is focused on helping excluded female micro-
entrepreneurs. Similar to the Guyana case, senior Haitian micro lenders are mostly males.
However, in Haiti most people accessing a micro loan are poor Black women. Stakeholders
interviewed and ti machanns both claim that micro lenders do prioritize women over men in
Haiti. Though the sample is quite small, there is some indication that in Haiti (as in Jamaica)
managers favour women in the allocation of loans and this complicates the lives of women
and can lead to domestic conflicts. Although there was no sign of Haitian male lenders
causing harm to the female ti machann, some of the stakeholders interviewed felt that the
situation of educated men making loans to poor women may have future implications.
Haitians I interviewed call for a gender balance, or what is locally referred to as “mixity,”
where there is promotion of dark-skinned Black females to managerial levels and the clients
also include males.
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Clientelistic Micro Banking
Clientelism clearly has a negative effect on microfinance development in the two
Anglophone cases of Jamaica and Guyana. The Jamaican case illustrates how microfinance
can appear, upon a superficial examination, to be effectively aiding development. However,
upon closer examination, it becomes evident that microfinance is at risk of reinforcing
oppressive structures. Jamaica’s Big Man politics, is the unfair disbursement of economic
resources to certain segments of the urban poor. Jamaican Dons and MPs insert themselves in
various ways into formal lending projects in the slums to push their own agenda. And certain
Indian Guyanese lenders are perceived to have close relations with the political elite. In both
places, micro lenders claim political neutrality but are, in fact, either receiving financial state
subsidies, or are the recipients of support from informal politics, partisan politics, or both.
Local people know about these arrangements even though managers think they do these
dealings in the back rooms.
Informal and partisan politics seeps into Jamaican microfinance, and as a result many
business people make conscious decisions to withdraw from politicized forms of
microfinancing. Clientelist microfinance, exposed in the Jamaica case, is likely to be found in
other diverse developing contexts. Local people should not be underestimated because they
know that their politicians use misuse funds and collude with micro bankers. Informal
lenders such as Dons, in the case of Jamaica, also make micro loans, although the
consequences may be dire for those hustlas who default. Dons make it possible for
microfinance retailers to do business in the slum community, and at times the lenders and
Dons align and work together because of respective self-serving interests. Lenders want
security and use the informal order to ensure repayments are made and Dons are able to
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control new entrants and manage the residents. Hustlas perceive these alliances correctly, and
accordingly many opt out of microfinance programs because they do not want to be
controlled by politicians or gangsters. As such, they quietly resist politicized microfinance,
and this means that hustlas turn to their own local banks, called Partner.
Black Women’s Agency
Politics inside of microfinance force poor business people, many of whom are female,
to retreat towards self-financing options. Literature on informal banks is extensive, and while
this literature examines people’s ingenuity in creating local banking programs, it does not
discuss the agency of uneducated Black women in organizing banking systems for low-
income entrepreneurs when microfinance lenders fail to reach these entrepreneurs.
Jamaican hustlas and Guyanese hucksters rely on informal banks when microfinance
is manipulative. Women from the slums create informal banks to help excluded persons
access money. Haitian lenders have taken cues from the legacy of informal systems and the
locally-run caisses populaires are able to resist exclusionary tendencies. When microfinance
programs involve politics they consequently fail to empower or transform lives of poor
people who live under oppressive local systems (e.g. Jamaica and Guyana). Elites in both
Anglophone countries running these programs understand a different lived reality from the
very poor business person living in the slums. Simply put, I found that poor business people
in both countries distrust local people managing micro-banking programs. When ordinary
people perceive that microfinance is being offered in an attempt to manipulate them
politically or to exclude them based on identities, micro entrepreneurs show resistance by
turning to informal banks, such as Partner and Box hand. This agency in informal banks
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allows business people to remain independent through enterprise and this in turn produces a
form of resistance from below.318
Informal banks are not only about survival mode but they are a testimony of people’s
perseverance not to be controlled. As highlighted in chapter 3, agency emerges when poor
Black women entrepreneurs, living in politicized garrisons, create Partner banks to resist
clientelistic microfinance. Jamaicans also turn to Partner, a long-standing savings tradition
among poor people, because they trust these informal systems more than they do
microfinance programs run by elitist intermediaries. Jamaican hustlas resist political micro
lenders by organizing Partner for excluded groups. Afro-Guyanese hucksters rejected by
Indian bankers turn to local financial systems Box Hand for its reliability and to save face.
When entrepreneurs witness resources being squandered or perceived to be political, they
become skeptical about the intention of microfinance.
Future Research Directions
This project has opened up many avenues for future work examining the intersection
of politics and private sector development in slums in the Global South. Three main areas of
work can build on this study to examine whether non-Blacks, who are poor in the Caribbean,
access services more so than Afros. First, this project suggests the importance of expanding
research on the Guyana and Haiti cases to examine political involvement in micro lending in
the peripheral towns or rural areas, where the bulk of the populations live. Second, in Guyana
318 Raeymaeker (2009, 7) finds that informal cross-border trade is a form of resistance of the Congolese people
to a patrimonial state. In 2010, on assignment to examine cross-border trading in the Eastern Congo, I witnessed
traders turning to self-employment as a way to reduce their reliance on clientelistic politics.
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and Trinidad, have large Indian business communities, and it may be useful to examine
whether Indian businesses behave in ways that discriminate against other groups, particularly
Blacks, since both states have Indian political leadership. Third, research might be directed
toward an examination of the experience of business persons of mixed-race backgrounds,
especially the dougla racial group in Guyana, to see whether mixed racial groups experience
privilege (compared with Blacks) or discrimination in business activities.
There is also room for comparison to this study beyond the Caribbean, as biases in
local economic programs may be occurring elsewhere, such as in Africa. For example, in the
Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda I found that that many cross-border traders felt
that microfinance programs excluded them based on ethnicity; yet lenders claim that their
programs focus on women (Assignment, DR Congo and Rwanda, July and August 2010). In
sub-Saharan Africa, it would also be important to examine issues of class, ethnicity, and
gender as factors in the exclusion. My work in the Caribbean shows that the interplay of
these identities affects who gets and who does not get loans and this analysis may be relevant
in other places too.
As shown in two of the Caribbean cases, partisan politics can interfere with micro
lending, and it might also be a factor in West Africa’s microfinance lending practices. Kah,
Olds, and Kah (2005, 25) found that, in Senegal, leaders in microfinance institutions
capitalized on political relations for their own ends. Colleagues working in microfinance
programs in countries like Nigeria, Egypt, Indonesia, Afghanistan and Iraq suspect that micro
loans are subject to political party politics. In July 2012, my work in Jakarta, Indonesia
revealed that politics within micro lending programs is a current issue among marginalized
aboriginal groups. It is likely that local politicians would interfere in the allocation of
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microfinance since it seeks to meet the needs of such a large constituency, the entrepreneurial
poor.
After years of examining the social economic group at the base of the economic
pyramid (low-income entrepreneurs), I have had an opportunity to meet and discuss micro-
enterprise development with the business leaders in various global south countries. Research
on the politics of the business elites, also referred to as market-dominant minorities (Chua
2003), is an important area that requires more research. In order to interview business elites
for this study, I had to get clearance to enter the gated communities where they lived and
worked. Rich business elites are also affecting development outcomes. Understanding market
behavior at the top level and its relations to the political elites is central to understanding
poverty, development programs, and investments in a developing country. In fact, in Haiti
there appears to be a nouveau riche class of Black entrepreneurs who are quite different from
the traditional business elites, which may also be worth exploring.
An examination of the diversity (race/ethnic, class, and gender) of actors on the
multi-lateral level of the microfinance industry is extremely important. Such research would
involve examining the technical and racial background of donors and technical experts who
manage global microfinance programs. Important questions to ask would be: Do women
dominate leadership positions within the global microfinance industry? Is identity politics in
microfinance policy a repercussion of what is going on in programs in the international
development arena? The question of race and class biases of those leading these programs is
a salient one; and in considering how policy is formulated, we need to think about the
identities of these actors.
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Policy Mitigations to end Discriminatory Microfinance
Historical racial intermingling has led to complex cleavages along class, race, and
gender lines. In the Caribbean, whitened minority elites have benefited from their inheritance
and are at the pinnacle of an economic pyramid. In contrast, the majority of people of African
ancestry are left at the base of the pyramid with limited options of social and economic
advancement. During the post-independence era, a significant number of educated Blacks
emerged: this group has not always assisted the poor. This study found that eligible business
people are not able to access financing, even in microfinance programs. Systemic
discrimination hinders microfinance development in two of these enslaved and colonized
countries: Jamaica and Guyana, where outreach is low.
Haiti’s story is different despite its similar legacy of race and class based politics.
Educated Blacks are divided: some have used their power to wreak political havoc and to
deprive people of basic resources, and others have used their education to rise in
organizations to advocate for change. The latter group is the type of Blacks working in
microfinance organizations in Port-au-Prince. These technical managers use their skills in a
way to correct unfair political conditions and market imperfections to help the marginalized.
They have learned about the struggles of the poor to make a better life through watching their
mothers and grand-mothers struggle with small trading activities. These Haitian managers
view micro loan programs as a political tool to emancipate the economically downtrodden
masses.
The radical rhetoric we hear in Haiti touts microfinance as a tool for change and this
is missing in the other two cases. Instead micro bankers in Jamaica and Guyana misuse
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microfinance and they instigate inequalities among people, when they allow their personal
biases to interfere with the allocation of loans to the urban poor. There are no mechanisms of
accountability to expose this deliberate use of identity and partisan politics to hurt vulnerable
populations. These intermediaries mask their own prejudices as “helping the urban poor,”
when in fact their use of financial services stigmatizes certain groups and contributes to local
conflicts.
As demonstrated in this project, low-income business people in the slums of Jamaica
and Guyana are excluded from or are excluding themselves from economic development
programs. Jamaican managers and staff persons have applied class-based biases infused with
racism to allow certain hustlas to access financing. The Jamaican case is further complicated
by the use of clientelism. Microfinance managers who subscribe to a white ethos and uptown
norms, and who are fully aware of the garrison politics downtown, allow partisan politics to
occur in these environments. Only hustlas who conform to these uptown middle-class value
systems are able to access micro loans. It is because of the attitudes and actions of the people
managing these programs, that most business people downtown do not trust microfinance as
a tool to help them. Policy changes are needed to counter these covert activities and to
ensure micro lending is consistent with its social empowerment aspect (an aspect they claim
to do to when they access subsidies).
Cultural narratives by Indo-Guyanese are racist and demeaning to all Afro-Guyanese,
and the state project of depriving Afro-Guyanese access to resources has permitted this for
the past 20 years. Many Indo micro bankers exhibit an obvious racism, which they have
internalized to prevent Afro-Guyanese from accessing micro-credit. Indian staffing is
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justified through the argument that Indo-Guyanese have business acumen and Afro Guyanese
do not. Other managers claim they do not want to put Afro-Guyanese staff at risk because of
their racist clients. These excuses fit with the state’s politics of excluding Black actors from
either managing or accessing economic resources.
Anti-discrimination policies are absent from economic development programs which
are to assist marginalized groups like Afro-Guyanese. Instead microfinance managers and
staff persons have absorbed the Indian-centric political project to exclude Blacks from access
to finance. Outreach to eligible Black borrowers is low because of racism. Policies are
needed to mitigate racism by ensuring that staff persons who resemble the marginalized
groups are hired. Furthermore, although ordinarily targeting resources can stigmatize one
group through preferential treatment, in this case, the extreme exclusion to financial
resources has been so systematic over two decades, there is now a need to target Afro-
Guyanese hucksters.
Interestingly, the Haitian case may be the one to instruct the region (and other diverse
places) on how to increase outreach and to develop inclusive financing for the poor. Lenders
who understand the context mitigate class and racial bias in pro-poor financial programs.
These managers and staff persons have learned from the masses about how to develop and
organize financial products, services, and programs in such a way that it borrows from local
traditions and systems to meet the livelihood needs of the entrepreneurial poor. In fact,
managers take grave personal risks when they adhere to a radical rhetoric of changing the
economic system. Yet, microfinance development is limited in what it can do to transform
the social inequalities pervasive in Haitian society.
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In this section, I make policy suggestions at the national and regional levels to end
discrimination in micro lending and to protect poor consumers.319
At the national level, these
recommendations are for state agencies overseeing microfinance. Leaders in financial
institutions, microfinance organizations, and the country’s development banks need to
restructure funding programs to ensure that internalized biases are rooted out from these
institutions. Such biases jeopardize investments, as the risk for social conflict will always be
present when racial and class prejudices are embedded into financial programs for the poor.
At the regional level, bi-lateral and multi-lateral agencies have the responsibility to
expose the social inequalities and make leaders aware that systemic and historically rooted
biases are affecting access through prejudiced lending practices. I am aware this will not be
easy. No one thought that social performance management (SPM) systems would be possible
in microfinance but a number of MFIs are using SPM to adhere with investor guidelines. I
believe that (partisan) politics should be a unit of analysis when microfinance organizations
are reviewed or evaluated. This means that when institutional appraisals are conducted (in the
Caribbean), there is a line item for this category “politics active.” And, should there be
evidence of politics that is negative then the appraisal should give a low score for
performance. Politics of the negative sort can affect the external funds MFIs can receive
because most investors do not want risk losing their money. The idea here is that lenders will
have to ensure that their institutions are free from partisan politics (and identity bias, may be
harder to prove) to access capital. Otherwise, the failure to measure partisan and identity
319 Some of my policy suggestions for Jamaican are taken from a report (JA-T1042) completed for the IDB and
the Office of the Prime Minister in 2009.
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politics within microfinance institutions will not end exclusionary microfinance. We must
understand the social dynamics of the societies in which micro lending is taking place to
ensure inclusive financial services.
Reforms in Jamaican Microfinance
The reality is that microfinance is suspect in the Jamaica case. Business people in the
garrisons do not trust most micro lenders, especially the mainstream ones. And, these micro
lenders busy themselves with forums and conferences discussing best practices (Carib Cap
website, accessed 23 August 2012) and they miss that embedded biases is what is affecting
performance. An inherent tension exists in the microfinance sector between potential clients
and micro lenders: there is a need to build trust. A certain sub-set of microfinance retailers
are not reaching business people in the Kingston slums because of their own cultural
prejudices. The state, donors and investors do not question the class bias infused by racism
that affects outreach to the downtown slums. The reforms will change the mind-set of
employees in micro lending organizations. Staff persons must be given incentive to adapt to
the needs of clients and to develop programs and services that reach vulnerable persons. To
achieve this goal the following is required:
Need for evidence-based research that goes beyond technical issues of those clients
accessing loans. Independent researchers should go to the ghetto communities and speak
to a cross-section of entrepreneurial people in order to understand the impact loan
programs have on the entrepreneurial poor, both as clients and non-clients. Ideally, the
research should not be subsidized by the micro bankers, a current practice of
organizations such as JNBS or MEFL, as this influences the outcome of the research.
310
Scale alone cannot assure inclusivity. Data must be disaggregated by slum, gender, party
affiliation (if any), age and education to understand which segments of the poor are being
left out.
Streamline and better organized micro and small business networks to avoid duplication.
A reevaluation of the lending practices of managers and staff persons of microfinance
organizations so that lending reaches more people and avoids any bias. The number of
private financial companies is increasing because of their ability to work in hard-to-reach
communities. Companies such as Kris N Charles, First Union, and Microcredit Limited
appear to be reaching the entrepreneurs in the slums. In this project, it seemed as though
Kris N Charles appealed to male clients from the garrisons. It would be good to learn
more about their lending practices that appeal to this group.
Increased opportunities for young males who are entrepreneurial and live in the slums
and seem to have no to access to financial facilities. This can be done by creating
assessment tools that can be used to find out who these young males are and what are
their capabilities of repaying the loans.
Diversify the type of lenders in the market and give support to private financial
companies who lend to the slums such as Kris n Charles. This will force mainstream
lenders to expand outreach to groups they deliberately exclude.
An increase of loans for family-owned businesses (e.g., cook shops) to both men and
women.
The promotion of patois in the workplace. One way to restore trust between the classes is
to increase the use of patois in retail banks, especially ones offering microfinance, so that
the staff and managers connect with clients through language. Adults should not be made
311
to feel that their local dialect of English is inferior to the language of instruction given in
the formal educational system (Hossein 2009).
The hiring of staff persons and managers who have first-hand experience of the garrisons
so as to make clients comfortable accessing loans from MFIs. In this way, staff persons
and the organization’s culture will not superimpose cultural and class bias on people
downtown. This is a practice carried out in a number of microfinance worldwide because
these managers will lived experience and know how to reach and program for these
entrepreneurs. Staff persons should be ready to undergo specialized training to enable
them to adapt to the needs of the poor, as in the case of Haiti.
Special gender consideration for male applicants. Having focus groups with men only is
needed to understand their business needs and to develop products that fit with their ways
and habits. This will send a message that institutions are not privileging women clients
but are listening to men too, and will remove the pressure women feel to be the only ones
securing a loan for the family.
Male literacy in the downtown slums is low. Men are sensitive to their limited literacy;
therefore providing private rooms where loan officers can assist applicants to read
applications is important. This effort to support males may also require one-on-one
sessions to go over the policies with them.
A review of specialized microfinance agencies with their headquarters in the exclusive
New Kingston area. If the bulk of the clients are located downtown, then micro lenders
should be based in the downtown commercial district or mid-town (Cross Roads) areas,
as opposed to the uptown financial district where many of the garrisons are not close to.
312
Review policies that exclude single mothers (with several partners). These women should
not be flagged as problematic because they do not conform to uptown norms. Micro
lenders can also expand their view and see multiple partners as guarantors for the client
than impose their own moral righteousness on people who choose not to marry.
Zero tolerance of the use of the Don or informal structures by microfinance staff persons
to ensure clients repay their loans through fear. Such use should be grounds for dismissal.
Also, zero tolerance for institutions accepting a parallel state structure and using it to
ensure high repayments rates (related to bonus system). Clients living under a parallel
state apparatus should not feel that microfinance staff persons collude with Dons or area
leaders. A hotline number (by text or calling) to report political interference should be
developed so clients do not have to feel threatened, and a neutral agency would have to
manage these complaints.
Due diligence of staff persons to stay out of partisan politics, and not to tolerate
professionals who openly engage in politics (especially if they are involved in loans to
slums). Organizations or staff persons who do politicking should not be involved in micro
lending given the politicized nature of the slums. State-run micro lenders (e.g., SSF,
MIDA, JBDC) are not encouraged because of their poor track record. Donors that confer
and contract such individuals and organizations are complicit in reproducing inequalities
and creating partisan alliances.
The inclusion of a political unit of analysis in audits and ratings of microfinance
programs. Any lender seen as working within an informal political system and evidence
of supporting it (working with informal leaders) should not receive a positive rating.
313
Encourage innovations such as the COPE-Hope for Children (local CBO) project, so that
lenders who do not want to send their staff persons into certain communities can work
through locally-based CBOs to reach eligible business people. However, if MFIs hire
staff persons with lived experience in the slums, they understand how to work in these
contexts.
Policy Programming to Privilege Afro-Guyanese
Indian Guyanese business people also discriminated based on racial identity. Afro-
Guyanese have difficulty accessing financial services from Indian lenders. Changing the
mindset of the Indo-Guyanese managers and staff persons—which reflect the attitudes of the
demeaning racist narratives that pervade society—may start with awareness. And, carrying
out programs to address racism in microfinance is a starting point for building trust between
the two groups. Further, it is also important to ensure that there are policies to swing the
pendulum in favour of Afro-Guyanese through targeted programs and to develop anti-
discrimination policies. To achieve this goal the following is required:
Pro-active hiring programs of Black loan officers and managers to increase the client
base of Afro-Guyanese in the urban areas. It is unjust to penalize Afro-Guyanese and not
to hire them because poor Indo-Guyanese clients are racist against them as loan officers.
By hiring Afro-Guyanese microfinance organizations can diversify its outreach and
include more Afro-Guyanese clients.
Collect and disaggregate loans granted by gender, race, age and location to ensure equal
opportunity and a fair allocation of financial services.
314
Increase loan sizes to Afro-Guyanese run businesses in the urban areas especially for
females (quite low lending levels to women at the largest MFI).
Zero tolerance for MFIs who have a personal relationship with political elites.
No support for government-run microfinance programs (e.g. WOW).
Elimination of the “marriage condition” policy from microfinance programs as a way to
screen loan applicant, as this measure penalizes Afro-Guyanese. This policy imitates
conventional banks and has an exclusionary tendency to alienate Blacks who do not
marry.
Workshop (similar to the Carib Cap project forums) with micro lenders to change the
inherent biases that are affecting lending to the urban poor. And to develop consumer
protectionism for clients based on political interference.
Leadership training to target Afro-Guyanese and dougla bankers to assume leadership
roles in microfinance banks and programs.
An increase of micro and small business lending in commercial banks. It was discovered
that Afro-Guyanese see foreign-owned commercial banks (e.g. Scotia bank and RBTT).
as being outside of the racial politics that have captured many of the indigenous banks.
Diversification of boards: in this case recruiting Afro-Guyanese board members and
members who come from different social class backgrounds.
Increase research on informal banking systems, such as Box hand and Penny Bank.
Improving Haitian Micro Lending
Haitian micro lenders seem to have inclusive finance. Ti machanns also seem to trust
and appreciate these micro loans programs because other entities ignore and deprive them of
315
goods and services. The following policy suggestions may strengthen the financial programs
for the urban poor:
Increased recognition that talent in microfinance is drawn from people who share similar
social origins as the people. This is a best practice that should be widely disseminated in
the region.
Need to promote female technical staff to managers and executive positions.
Development of loan products of longer-term duration to support productive and artisanal
activities.
Showcase microfinance as a political tool (e.g. Haiti case) working against entrenched
class systems.
Need to investigate kidnappings and murders of staff persons who have lost their lives by
working in the economic development sector.
Increased funding and policy support for MOIs and their networks (such as KNFP,
ANACAPH, Le Levier) to expand microfinancial services. Publish and document these
experiences.
Review of female-focused microfinance, and to create a balance of male and female
clients so as not to stigmatize the program, or to levy additional burdens of women.
When males are excluded women and children will have to work longer to repay the
loans.
Increased and diversification of loans to target males as well so that women are not the
only ones requesting loans, and giving males a chance to opt out of household affairs.
Support of research on informal banks such as Sols and Sabotays.
316
Legalization of organizations making micro loans, as formality is important with non-
cooperative lenders.
Development of consumer protection policies for the microfinance industry.
Regional Policy Suggestions
For each of the cases, I provided context-specific policies; however, I do find that
certain policies can be carried out at a regional level. Some of the following policy
recommendations at the regional level can be considered by the IDB, USAID, CIDA, and the
CDB, all which have significant microfinance investments in the region. Microfinance which
is also known as “inclusive financing” appears to be problematic in cases where lenders use
their own personal biases (going against better business practice) to exclude business people.
Policy-makers are aware that increasing outreach in the Jamaica and Guyana cases is needed
but have focused on technical skills of staff and external issues. Scale alone cannot be a
signifier of reaching inclusivity; but the deliberate exclusion of people has led to the low
outreach (about 10%) by lenders.
Hire staff and managers who resemble the class and racial/ethnic origins of persons being
served by microfinance (e.g. Haiti case). To ensure that staff persons receive the training
they need to be able to respond to the needs of the clients. Targeted hiring and
supplementary training will ensure that micro lending responds to the needs of the poor.
To ensure that pro-poor financial organizations adapt an in-house policy to protect poor
consumers. As part of this policy, the organization must state clearly its opposition to
any form of discriminatory or sexist processes, and develop systems to treat matters that
may arise.
317
Ban political funds that capitalize lenders in highly political environments. State funds
for microfinance should be channelled through an independent institution. Banks and
organizations making loans to the urban poor should not take capital from politicians, as
this complicates lending, particularly in slums that are highly politicized.
Invest in microfinance as a stepping stone for supporting growth and the development of
Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs).
Include politics as a unit of analysis in institutional analyses and audits of microfinance
organizations. Organizations that work with informal and formal political structures must
be examined closely.
Do not allow microfinance persons who are known to politically campaign to access
donor or state funding (Jamaica case). Donors should carry out due diligence because
failure to vet and analyze the partners they choose as implementing partners leaves the
funding agency complicit and responsible for the partisan politics that replicates itself in
microfinance programs. It is not acceptable for any organization to have politically active
managers and staff persons, whether they disburse funds at the institutional or client
level.
Increase investments in MOIs such as cooperative financial lenders and credit unions.
Channel grants and donations to an independent and non-political body that disburses
funds on a competitive basis. Government subsidies have been problematic in the region
and continue to be a risk for viable micro lending organizations.
Rethink gender programming in context (Bedford 2009, 49). Young males from the
Kingston ghetto who are entrepreneurial have a difficult time accessing financial services
(may be most deprived group in some slums). There is a need for policy change to “think
318
men” when designing loan products.This way poor women are not at risk for domestic
abuse or men cannot renege on obligations when loan programs exclude them.
Create policy to diversify board members, so that they include women and men from
various socio-economic (class) backgrounds.
Increase research grants to credit unions and cooperatives in the region.
Research informal banking systems prevalent in the Caribbean region, such as Partner,
Susus, Box hand, Meeting turn, and Sols.
Promote the local vernacular language of the masses in microfinance programs. Micro
lenders are to absorb local culture of the people they serve. One way of doing this would
be to speak Patois or Kreyol in the place of business so clients in this socio-economic
group feel welcomed.
Develop local leadership programs in microfinance to train and develop the capacity of
Afro-Caribbean people, particularly those who come from the lower classes.
Offer workshops with micro lenders to change the inherent race, class, and gender biases
that affect lending to the urban poor. This would be a sign to the population that lenders
are concerned about creating equal opportunities for them.
Ensure that donors such as IDB and USAID refrain from funding regional networks
beyond the initial stage. If there are local networks, donors should work with these pre-
existing networks and not start competing ones (Jamaica case).
Conclusion
In many parts of the world, microfinance is not working as it should because of the
distribution of political power among certain groups. Microfinance was reinvented to be
319
inclusive finance; yet it is not reaching many eligible business people. Donors, (sometimes)
unaware of these local dynamics, make capital contributions without understanding the
embedded political and cultural biases that sustain the underdevelopment of certain segments
of the society. This lack of awareness of local politics puts investments at risk. Local elites
(both in country and in donor offices abroad), are often the ones controlling the resources,
and have no interest in bettering the plight of the masses. The research presented here has
shown not only political elites seek to manipulate microfinance to garner political support,
but that other sub-elites (managers and staff in MFIs) use small loans as a tool to reproduce
inequalities. The racial and class hierarchies that define the broader political process operate
within local MFIs—that is, micro-credit officials reflect the biases of these hierarchies (race
and class) in their lending practices. Hence, this study supports much of the criticism that has
been levelled against commercialized microfinance because of its harm to poor
entrepreneurs.
As shown in this study, the discriminatory allocation of microfinance is a reflection of
the embeddedness of societal and political, racial and class hierarchies in the MFIs studied.
And unfair power dynamics misuse microfinance to oppress the masses. This study is the
first attempt to explore the impact of the attitudes of the managers and staff involved in micro
lending. In this closing chapter, I have argued that in the Jamaica and Guyana cases, lenders
have identity biases that instigate conflicts and leads to the exclusion of certain business
people. Moreover, this exclusion was linked to politics more broadly.
The historical context of each country has affected micro lending differently. As
witnessed in Haiti, the legacy of African traditions of informal groups (sol) and socially
320
conscious lenders has influenced the microfinance sector to structure financial systems that
reflect the trusted local systems of the moun andeyo. These traditional systems of
gwoupmans and kombit exhibit strong democratic processes even though patrimonial
political elites have failed to ensure lasting democracy at the national political level (Fatton
2007, 221-223). As Fatton (2007, 222) explains, the very poor who suffered under
authoritarian regimes have created their own “home-grown version of democracy.” People
alienated by the state have turned inward to create their own collective systems to help one
another. To some extent, Jamaicans also find local systems (such as Partner bank) to turn to
when a clientelist system has shaped microfinance allocation. Finally, Guyana’s own race
politics stems from a difficult colonial past that has persisted over the years to privilege one
ethnic group over another, and microfinance allocations mirror these internal political
tendencies.
Micro-enterprise development as a stand-alone development intervention in the
global south cannot tackle historical inequalities. Jamaican and Guyanese micro lenders of a
certain class and racial background control economic resources, and they have the power to
replicate inequalities and inequities against sub-sets of the urban poor that do not conform to
their views. For social change to emerge through microfinance in these two contexts is
limited at best. However, the Haiti case suggests that an alternative for development is
possible because the people-owned caisses populaires are doing business differently and
adapting to its context. And, it helps that their managers are from a similar class and
racial/ethnic origin as the masses, and know how to organize financial programs that are free
from elite capture. It is this bottom-up and collective approach in micro banking determines a
greater level of social transformation for poor entrepreneurs.
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Appendixes
Appendix 1.1: Elite Interviews and Discussions—Microfinance Lenders and Stakeholders from 2008 to 2010
No. Institution Country Person/Position Date
Jamaica
Microfinance Lenders/Wholesalers
1
Jamaica National Small
Business Limited Jamaica Frank Whylie, General manager; 24-Feb-09
2
Jamaica National Small
Business Limited Jamaica Anonymous, 2 Managers 25-Feb-09
3
Jamaica National Small
Business Limited Jamaica Anonymous, 2 Field Officers 25-Feb-09
4 COPE Jamaica
Horace Bennett, Executive
Director; 1 Field Officer 16-Mar-09
5
Micro Enterprise Financing
Limited (MEFL) Jamaica
Anonymous, Senior managers (2)
and Board Member; 1 Field Officer
5 March; 12 May
2009
6
City of Kingston Cooperative
and Credit Union (COKCU) Jamaica
Ewan Shaw, Assistant General
Manager
13 March; 8 May;
9 June 2009
7
Jamaica National Building
Society (JNBS) Jamaica Earl Jarrett, General Manager
31 March; 30
April 2009
8
National Development
Foundation Jamaica Jamaica
Anonymous, Senior
Managers/Executive 15-Apr-09
9
Churches Cooperative Credit
Union Ltd (CCCUL) Jamaica Basil Naar, Managing Director
27-May-09
(Multi)
10 CCCUL Jamaica Waldon Wright, Manager 27-May-09
11
Churches Cooperative Credit
Union Ltd Jamaica Anonymous, Field Agent 28-May-09
12
Jamaica Microcredit Limited
(MCL) Jamaica Mitzian Turner, Managing Director; 1-Jun-09
13 MCL Jamaica
Anonymous, 1 Senior, 1 Field
manager 28-Sep-09
14 Self-Start Fund (SSF) Jamaica Carmen Lowers, Director 15-Apr-09
15
Access Financial Limited
(ACCESS) Jamaica
Marcus James, 2 Field officers (not
named) 25-Mar-09
322
16
Jamaica Cable and Wireless
Cooperative and Credit union Jamaica
Barrington Whyte, Managing
Director 12-Mar-09
17 Kris An Charles Limited Jamaica
Trevor Hutchinson, CEO; Judith
Hutchinson, CFO 12-May-09
18 First Union Financial Limited Jamaica
Lloyd Campbell, Managing
Director; 1 Senior manager; 2 Field
Officers 28-May-09
19
Nation Growth Microfinance
Bank Jamaica
All Anonymous, 3 Managers, 2
Field Officers 10-Mar-09
20
Jamaica Business Development
Center Jamaica Valerie Veira, Managing Director
17 March; 1 April
2009
21 OBF Financial Services Jamaica Field Officer 17-Mar-09
22 Bank of Nova Scotia Jamaica Assistant General Manager 18-Mar-09
23 National Commercial Bank Jamaica Senior Manager, Female 25-Mar-09
24
Development Bank of Jamaica
(DBJ) Jamaica
Yvonne Lewars, General Manager,
AFI; 2 senior managers; Board
member
8 March; 28 May
2009
25
Development Options Ltd
(DOL) Jamaica Maureen Webber, Owner
13 March; 20
April 2009
26
Micro Investment Development
Agency (MIDA) Jamaica Vivian Chin, Managing Director 10-Mar-09
27 Pan Caribbean Financial Ltd Jamaica Dionne Allison, Manager
11 March; 2 Oct
2009
Stakeholders (Business and Financial Experts)
28 Bank of Jamaica Jamaica Economist, Male Feb-09
29
United Nations Development
Program (UNDP) Jamaica Machel Stewart, Program Manager 16-Mar-09
30
Caribbean Policy and Research
Institute (CAPRI) Jamaica
John Rapley and Damien King;
senior managers (2)
February to
October 2009
31 Jesuit/ Roman Catholic Diocese Jamaica
Father Gerry McLaughlin (former
founder of COKCU) 19-Feb-09
32 Consultants Jamaica
Microfinance (3) and Trade unions
(1) Apr-09, July 09
33 MSME Alliance Jamaica Rosalea Hamilton 11-Mar-09
323
34
Jamaica Cooperative and Credit
Union League Jamaica Anonymous, Senior Manager 20-Mar-09
35 Economist, business writer Jamaica Keith Collister 25-Aug-09
36
Small Business Association of
Jamaica (SBAJ) Jamaica
Edward Chin Mook, President; 2
Members 16-Mar-09
37
Private Sector Organization of
Jamaica (PSOJ) Jamaica Economist 9-Feb-09
38
Jamaica Chamber of
Commerce-Civics Committee Jamaica Younis Samuda, Big Businessman 21-Jul-09
39
Jamaica Microfinancing
Association (JAMFA) Jamaica
Raymond Gabbidon, Executive
Director 20-Mar-09
40
University of Technology
(UTECH) Jamaica Horace Williams 27 Oct-09
Community Activists and NGOs
41
Agency for Inner city Renewal
(AIR) Jamaica Henley Morgan, Director
7 and 25 March
2009
42 AIR Jamaica Anonymous, 2 Managers
2 April; 26
October 2009
43
Association of Women's
Organization in Jamaica Jamaica Hermoine McKenzie, President 12-Jul-09
44 Kingston Restoration Company Jamaica Morin Seymour, Executive Director 26-Feb-09
45 Peace Management Institute Jamaica Damien Hutchinson, Director 29-Jul-09
46 S Corner Jamaica Angel Stultz, Executive Director
1 and 25 March
2009
47 Liberty Hall, Marcus Garvey Jamaica Nicosia Shakes, Acting Director 30-Sep-09
48
Hope for Children Development
Company (HCDC) Jamaica Richard Troupe, Managing Director
6 and 31 March;
26 October 2009
Donor Agencies
49
United States Agency for
International Development
(USAID) Jamaica
Jimmy Burrowes, Senior Specialist,
2 US Embassy
6-May-09; 27
July -09
50 Boulevard Baptist Church Jamaica Devon Dick, Pastor 7-Apr-09
51 Inter-American Development Jamaica Carina Cockburn, Specialist 20 Feb-09; 3
324
Bank, Jamaica (IDB) March 2009
52 USAID Civil Society Project Jamaica Sharene McKenzie, Expert
12 March; 29 Sept
2009
53 CIDA/Jamaica Jamaica Vivian Gray 10-Jul-09
Community-Level Experts
54 Area Leaders Jamaica Anonymous, PNP 24 Feb-09
55 Area Leaders Jamaica Anonymous, JLP 25 Feb-09
56 Tivoli Community Center Jamaica
Anonymous, Senior-Level, 2
Coordinators
27 May; 29
September 2009
57 Banker Ladies Jamaica Nikki, Char and Carlyn
20 and 30 March
2009
Research and Academic Organizations
58 University of West Indies/Mona Jamaica
Anthony Harriott; Claremont
Kirton; David Tennant; Barry
Chevannes; Errol Miller; Mark
Figueroa; Michael Witter;
Lawrence Nicholson
February to
October 2009
59 STATIN Jamaica
Martin Brown, Hope Perkins,
researchers 28-Oct-09
Political Elites
60 Government of Jamaica (JLP) Jamaica Bruce Golding, Prime Minister 23-Jul-09
61 PNP Politician Jamaica Anonymous 9-Mar-09
62 PNP Politician Jamaica Anonymous 16-Jul-09
63 JLP Politician Jamaica Anonymous 29-Jul-09
64 PNP Politician Jamaica Anonymous 24-Aug-09
65 JLP Politician Jamaica Anonymous 28-Oct-09
Government Agencies
66
Social Development
Commission Jamaica Director (1); Field Officers (5)
1 April; 25 Sept;
and October 2009
67 Planning Institute of Jamaica Jamaica
Peter Gordon, Director; Angella
Taylor-Spence, Senior Manager
4 March; 16 July
2009
325
68 Jamaica Trade and Invest Jamaica
Deanna MacFarlane, Senior
Manager 4-May-09
69 Jamaica Social Investment Fund Jamaica
Gene Shaw, Manager of Inner cities
Basics project 2-Apr-09
70
Government of Jamaica,
Ministry of Information Jamaica Senior Official 1-Apr-09
71
Office of the Prime Minister,
Development and Planning Jamaica
Anonymous, Director and Senior
Analyst 23-Sep-09
72
Constituency Development
Funds, Office of the Prime
Minister Jamaica Cavell Francis and Managers (2)
22 July; 5 Oct
2009
73
Kingston-St Andrew
Corporation, Markets
Department Jamaica Anonymous, Senior Official 27-May-09
74
Government of Jamaica,
Ministry of Industry, Investment
and Commerce Jamaica
Reginald Budhan, Permanent
Secretary (Senior Official) 24-Sep-09
International
76 Microfin, Trinidad Trinidad Gerry Pemberton Nov-08
77 Microfin, Trinidad Trinidad
Prakash Dhanraj, Managing
Director 11-Feb-09
78 UWI/Cavehill, SALISES Barbados Jonathan Lashley 24-Apr-09
79
Organization of American
States Barbados Francis McBarnett 24-Apr-09
80 Caribbean Development Bank Barbados Kelvin Dalrymple, Economist 27-Apr-09
81 Caribbean Development Bank Barbados Lisa Harding, Specialist 27-Apr-09
82 UNDP Barbados Barbados Gilles Romulus, Manager 27-Apr-09
83
Inter-American Development
Bank USA
Mark Wenner, Microfinance
Specialist 9-Nov-10 (Multi)
85 AZMJ, Microfinance Firm USA Anita Campion, Expert 10 Dec-09
84 McMaster University Canada Professor Benson Honig 8-Apr-10
85
Inter-American Development
Bank USA Winsome Leslie, Senior Specialist
9 November 2010
(Multi)
326
Guyana
Microfinance Lenders
86 IPED Guyana Leslie Chin, CEO 1-Nov-08
87 Small Business Finance Trust Guyana Manjula Brijmohan, Director 15-Apr-10
88 Microfin, DFLSA Guyana Lindel Harlequin, CEO 16-Apr-10
89 IPED Guyana Ramesh Persaud, CEO
10 April and 19-
Apr-10
90 Republic Bank Guyana Erica Moore, SME Head 22-Apr-10
91 Republic Bank Guyana Deborah Yang, Manager 22-Apr-10
92 Scotiabank Guyana Abu Zaman, Retail Manager 23-Apr-10
93 Scotiabank Guyana
Quacy Williams, Branch Manager
(Bartica) 23-Apr-10
94
Guyana Bank of Trade and
Invest Guyana John Tracey, Managing Director 29-Apr-10
95 Demerara Bank Guyana Andre Lam, Assistant Manager 4-May-10
96 Demerara Bank Guyana
David Ramdeholl, Assistant
Manager 4-May-10
Stakeholders (Business and Financial Experts)
97 Businesswoman Guyana Jocelyn Dow 1-Nov-08
98 Empretec Guyana Judy Semple, MD 16-Apr-10
99
Craft Producers Association of
Guyana Guyana
Anonymous, Female, President and
businessperson 17-Apr-10
100 D & R Limited Guyana Desmond Hollingsworth, owner 17-Apr-10
101 Carana, USAID Contractor Guyana
Patrick Henry, Chief of Party
(Enterprise and Environment) 22-Apr-10
102 Gafoors Retailer Guyana
Mohammed Ali, Executive and
Board member of SBDT 23-Apr-10
103
Small Business Association of
Guyana Guyana Patrick Zephyr, President 27-Apr-10
104 Independent Consultant Guyana Wayne Fordyce, Expert 30-Apr-10
327
105 Guyana Volunteer Association Guyana Bevan Currie, Owner 3-May-10
106
Retired big businessman,
formerly with Guyana’s
Manufacturing Association Guyana Samaroo Jodha 6 and 14 May 10
Community Activists and NGOs
107 Red Thread Guyana
Andaiye, Joy Marcus and Karen
D'Souza, Managers 1-Nov-08
108
African Cultural and
Development Association Guyana Eric Philips, Executive Director 30-Apr-10
109
Caribbean Association for
Feminist Research and Action
(CAFRA) Guyana
Thandi Seaforth Cordis, Country
Representative 30-Apr-10
110 YWCA Guyana
Glynis Alonze Beaton, General
Secretary 30-Apr-10
111
Central Islamic Organization of
Guyana Guyana
Faizeel Ferouz, President and
Businessman of Pharmacy Twins in
Allbouystown 3-May-10
112 Mark Benschop Foundation Guyana Mark Benschop, President 7-May-10
Donor Agencies
113 USAID, Guyana Guyana Winston Harlequin, Manager
1 Nov 2008 and
22 April 2010
114
Inter-American Development
Bank Guyana Derise Williams, Analyst 19-Apr-10
115
United Nations Development
Program/Guyana Guyana Marlon Bristol, Economist 4-May-10
Community-Level Experts
116
Young Leaders of
Allbouystown Guyana Anonymous 23-Apr-10
117
Community Development
Council (CDC) Guyana Anonymous, Female 25-Apr-10
118
Allbouystown Neighborhood
Development Association
(ANDA) Guyana Anonymous, Leaders (2) 25-Apr-10
119 ANDA Guyana David Hari, Chairman 26-Apr-10
328
120 Youth activist Guyana Kurt Pearson, Junior-level 3-May-10
Research and Academic Organizations
121 University of Guyana Guyana Kardasi Ceres 1-Nov-08 (Multi)
122 University of Guyana Guyana Oneal Greaves, Chair 17-Nov-08
123 University of Guyana Guyana Frederick Kissoon 7-May-10
124
University of Guyana,
International Development
Studies Guyana Professor Clive Thomas Multi
125
University of Guyana, Women's
Studies Guyana Audrey Enid Benn, Lecturer 7-May-10
126 University of Guyana Guyana Michael Scott, Dean 13 May 2010
Political Elites
127
Empowerment and Community
Development Office, Office of
the President Guyana
Odinga Lumumba, Presidential
Advisor 22-Apr-10
128
Ministry of Housing and Water
and National Directorate of
Community Development
Councils Guyana
Philomena Shury, Parliamentary
Secretary of the Ministry of
Housing and Water and National
Director for CDCs
21 April and 4
May 2010
129
Former politician (Min of
Education under Jagan; Min of
Housing, Social Security, Min
of Women and Youth, Min of
Labour, Min of Health) Guyana Jeffrey Henry, Senior Expert 7-May-10
Government Agencies
130 Ministry of Finance Guyana
Anonymous, Female, Senior
Official 15-Apr-10
131 Go-Invest Guyana Geoff Da Silva, CEO 19-Apr-10
132
Ministry of Tourism, Industry
and Commerce (MINTIC) Guyana Jonathan Said, Economist 29-Apr-10
133 MINTIC Guyana Anonymous, Analyst 29-Apr-10
134 Matching Grant, MINTIC Guyana Cecile Welch, Junior-level 30-Apr-10
135
Ministry of Labour, Human
Services and Social Security Guyana Kareem Abdul Jabar, Senior Expert 7-May-10
329
Haiti
Microfinance Lenders
136 Initiative du Développement Haiti Wesner Marcelin, Director April-08
137 Sogesol Haiti Daphne Louissaint, Manager April-08
138 GRAIFSI Haiti Carine Clermont, President 29-Sep-10
139 GTIH Haiti Marie Palme, Manager 30-Sep-10
140
Fonkoze - Sevis Finansman
Fonkoze (SFF) Haiti Anne Hastings, Director, CEO 4-Oct-10
141 Micro Credit National Haiti Jean Max Chery, Manager 6-Oct-10
142 KNFP Haiti Lionel Fleurstin, Executive Director 6-Oct-10
143 FDI Haiti
Lhermite François, Managing
Director 7-Oct-10
144 KOTELAM Haiti Marcelle St. Gilles, CEO 7-Oct-10
145 Sogesol Haiti Pierre Marie Boisson, Chairman 11-Oct-10
146 ACME Haiti
Sinior Raymond, Eexcutive
Director 14-Oct-10 (Multi)
147 FINCA Haiti Sophie Vincent, Senior Manager 14-Oct-10
148 Le Levier (Caisses Populaires) Haiti Sony V. Extantus, Manager 14-Oct-10
Stakeholders (Business and Financial Experts)
149 Haiti MSME Haiti Anonymous, Specialist (Haitian) March -08
150 Haiti MSME Haiti John Jepsen, Senior Manager April-08
151 Desjardins (DID) Haiti
Michele Breton, Senior Advisor for
Credit Unions and Cooperatives April-08
152
Independent Consultant in
Microfinance Haiti Raoul Jean-Louis, Expert 3-Oct-10 (Multi)
153 ANIMH Haiti
Windsor Calixte, Executive
Director 6-Oct-10
154 UPAC, Canadian Embassy Haiti Hugus Charles, MFI expert 6-Oct-10
155 Desjardins (DID) Haiti
Pierre Turcotte, Credit Union
Expert 7-Oct-10
330
156
Independent Consultant in
Microfinance Haiti Pascale Marie Theodate 12-Oct-10 (Multi)
Community Activists and NGOs
157 USAID funded INGO Haiti Jeffrey Tines, Manager March-08
158 QiFD Haiti Eric Calpas, Director 30-Sep-10
159 QiFD Haiti Sergine Pierre, Manager 30-Sep-10
160 QiFD Haiti Cindy Luxama, Junior 30-Sep-10
161 CORDAID Haiti Anonymous, Senior Manager 2-Oct-10
162 CHF International Haiti Eline Mystal, Manager 4-Oct-10
Donor Agencies
163 IADB Haiti
Jempsey Fils- Aimé, Senior
Specialist
30 Sept; 3 Oct; 14
Oct 2010
164 IADB Haiti/US Sergio Navagas, Senior Specialist 09-Nov-10
165 USAID Haiti Anonymous, Manager 2-Oct-10
166 USAID Haiti Marie Vertue, Senior Specialist 12-Oct-10
167 USAID Haiti Haelee Kim, Economist 12-Oct-10
Community-Level Experts
168 Remember the Children Haiti Robert Pressoir, President 3-Oct-10
169 Remember the Children Haiti Anonymous, Junior-level 3-Oct-10
170 Remember the Children Haiti Anonymous, Junior-level 3-Oct-10
171
Business Owner and Sabotay
player Haiti Sylain Luxon 4-Oct-10
172 Via Rios NGO Haiti Berdine Edmond, Mid level 12-Oct-10
173 Via Rios NGO Haiti Daniel Delva, Manager 12-Oct-10
174 CRACED Haiti Noelsaint Dieufait, Director 5-Oct-10
175 CRACED Haiti Anonymous, Junior level 5-Oct-10
176
Organisation des Femmes Bon
Repos Haiti Milhouse Fortune, President 5-Oct-10
331
Research and Academic Organizations
177 Miami University/INURED Haiti/US Louis Herns Marcelin April and Nov-08
178 INURED Haiti
Jean Reuben Peterly, Researcher,
Wesner Marcelin, Manager 5-Oct-10
179 CRESFED Haiti Suzy Castor, Director 11-Oct-10
180 FOKAL Haiti Lorraine Mangones, Director 11-Oct-10
181 Quisqueya University Haiti Maxon Julien, Lecturer 12-Oct-10
182 Quisqueya University Haiti Louis Delime Chery, Professor 12-Oct-10
Government Agencies
183
Ministere de l'industrie et
Commerce Haiti Anonymous, Senior-level 4-Oct-10
184 Customs Agency Haiti Anonymous, Manager 14-Oct-10
332
Appendix 1.2: Interviews with Micro-Entrepreneurs in Jamaica, Guyana, and Haiti (2009 and 2010)
Code No. Alias Sex Age Country Sector Date
MP 1 Ionie F 43 Jamaica Vendor/Sweets 3-Mar-09
2 Samuel M 28 Jamaica Barber shop 3-Mar-09
3 Denham M 42 Jamaica Cookshop 3-Mar-09
4 Pauline F 46 Jamaica Cookshop 3-Mar-09
5 Rastaladee F 74 Jamaica Seller "Suck-Suck" 13-Mar-09
6 Bruce M 32 Jamaica Grocery stop 13-Mar-09
7 Miss Paddy F 45 Jamaica Cook shop 27-Mar-09
8 Gem F 47 Jamaica Seller/Cake and Crab 27-Mar-09
9 Danny M 57 Jamaica Mechanic 31-Mar-09
10 Big Reds F 47 Jamaica Hair and Sewing 31-Mar-09
11 Anonymous F 38 Jamaica Vendor/School snacks 31-Mar-09
FG1 12 Anonymous F 45 Jamaica Cookshop 20-Mar-09
13 Joy F 52 Jamaica Higglering 20-Mar-09
14 Yvette F 41 Jamaica Sewing 20-Mar-09
15 Earl M 37 Jamaica Seller/Bag juice 20-Mar-09
16 Cheryl F 34 Jamaica Vendor/Snacks 20-Mar-09
17 Carlene F 39 Jamaica Grocery shop 20-Mar-09
18 Faye F 49 Jamaica Grocery shop 20-Mar-09
19 Petagaye F 57 Jamaica Grocery shop 20-Mar-09
20 Beverley F 52 Jamaica
Grocery shop/Raising
chicken 20-Mar-09
21 Novelette F 36 Jamaica
Grocery shop/sausage
maker 20-Mar-09
333
22 Cherry F 62 Jamaica Soup/ Raising goat 20-Mar-09
23 Anonymous F 48 Jamaica Higglering 20-Mar-09
24 Fay F 60 Jamaica Grocery shop 20-Mar-09
25 Anonymous F 45 Jamaica Grocery shop 29-Aug-09
26 Brian M 42 Jamaica
Seller/sandwiches at
school 29-Aug-09
27 Anonymous M 28 Jamaica Street vendor 30-Aug-09
28 Anonymous M 44 Jamaica Higglering/shoes 30-Aug-09
29 Captain M 54 Jamaica Welding 3-Sep-09
30 Anonymous M 38 Jamaica Mechanic 3-Sep-09
31 Ras M 42 Jamaica Taxi 3-Sep-09
32 Wayne M 26 Jamaica Vendor/various 3-Sep-09
33 Anonymous M 56 Jamaica Carpentry 4-Sep-09
34 T M 29 Jamaica Higglering 4-Sep-09
35 Anonymous M 27 Jamaica Grocery shop 4-Sep-09
AG 36 Mel F 40 Jamaica Snack shop 18-Apr-09
37 Mrs. Burrell F 42 Jamaica Grocery shop 18-Apr-09
38 Diane F 43 Jamaica Meat and Fish shop 18-Apr-09
39 Darkening F 47 Jamaica Grocery Shop 2-May-09
40 Goalie F 27 Jamaica Grocery Shop 2-May-09
41 Judith F 38 Jamaica Grocery shop 2-May-09
42 Ms. Eulalyn F 64 Jamaica
Vendor/bag juice and
pudding 2-May-09
43 Baby G F 42 Jamaica Sewing shop 5-May-09
44 Teech F 49 Jamaica Grocery shop 5-May-09
45 Rameen M 27 Jamaica Game shop 5-May-09
46 Bom Bom F 25 Jamaica Higgler 5-May-09
334
47 Joan F 49 Jamaica Grocery shop 12-May-09
48 Tall man M 52 Jamaica Grocery shop 12-May-09
49 Novelette F 39 Jamaica Ice cream vendor 12-May-09
50 Maria F 39 Jamaica Grocery shop 12-May-09
51 Marcia F 52 Jamaica Ice cream vendor 12-May-09
52 Nana F 57 Jamaica Fruit seller 12-May-09
53 Marcia F 34 Jamaica
Home-based Nail and hair
salon 12-May-09
54 Miss Netty F 67 Jamaica Snack shop 13-May-09
55 Carlene F 37 Jamaica Home-based hair salon 14-May-09
56 Dor F 50 Jamaica
Vendor at school/ ice
cream, snacks 14-May-09
57 Carol F 49 Jamaica Grocery shop 14-May-09
58 Andrew M 41 Jamaica
Street vendor/cleaning
supplies 26-May-09
59 Muzelle F 34 Jamaica
Cook shop/ Vendor of
shoes and juice 26-May-09
60 D M 33 Jamaica Cook shop 26-May-09
61 Cola F 25 Jamaica Bar 26-May-09
62 Sico F 64 Jamaica Grocery shop 26-May-09
63 Stealy M 42 Jamaica Carpentry/construction 28-May-09
64 Kaydian F 38 Jamaica Cook shop 28-May-09
65 Leon M 38 Jamaica Cook shop 28-May-09
66 C M 45 Jamaica Cook shop 28-May-09
67 Daisy F 54 Jamaica Cook shop 28-May-09
68 Natalie F 38 Jamaica
Vendor/ice cream and
detergents 29-May-09
69 Jackie F 40 Jamaica Nail and hair 29-May-09
FG2 70 Mina F 48 Jamaica Grocery shop 16-May-09
335
71 Jackie F 42 Jamaica Baby daycare 16-May-09
72 Sonia F 44 Jamaica Grocery shop 16-May-09
73 Dallion M 31 Jamaica Cook shop/Carpenter 16-May-09
74 Nadine F 33 Jamaica Snack shop 16-May-09
75 Kaleen F 41 Jamaica Vendor/ice cream 16-May-09
76 Coral F 50 Jamaica Syrup selling 16-May-09
77 Miss Fay F 62 Jamaica Dress-making 16-May-09
78 Angie F 46 Jamaica Grocery shop 16-May-09
79 Peaches F 40 Jamaica
Landlady/ Seller cell
phone cards 16-May-09
80 Lesa F 41 Jamaica Vendor/ pastry, milk, juice 16-May-09
81 Clare F 46 Jamaica Hair stylist and nails 16-May-09
82 Vudy F 48 Jamaica Vendor/ school snacks 16-May-09
83 Miss. S F 32 Jamaica Higglering 18-May-09
FG3 84 Mr. Walker M 62 Jamaica Carpenter 22-Aug-09
85 Tweety bird M 32 Jamaica Car wash 22-Aug-09
86 Dolvin M 35 Jamaica Painter/Artist 22-Aug-09
87 Vincent M 48 Jamaica Tailor 22-Aug-09
88 Miquel M 40 Jamaica Taxi driver 22-Aug-09
89 Flippy M 38 Jamaica Cook/chef 22-Aug-09
90 Clifton M 40 Jamaica
Food processing/ salt fish
and herrings 22-Aug-09
91 Anonymous M 38 Jamaica Carpenter 22-Aug-09
92 Bald head M 43 Jamaica Barber shop 22-Aug-09
WT 93 Donna F 40 Jamaica Grocery shop 1-May-09
94 Juliane F 34 Jamaica Grocery shop 1-May-09
95 Sonia F 50 Jamaica Snack shop 1-May-09
336
96 Dragon F 40 Jamaica Grocery shop 1-May-09
97 Tricia F 33 Jamaica Grocery shop 1-May-09
98 Diane F 42 Jamaica Slippers seller 6-May-09
99 Patsy F 46 Jamaica Grocery shop 6-May-09
100 Dot F 48 Jamaica Vegetable stall 6-May-09
101 Pansy F 42 Jamaica Sweety and Fruit seller 6-May-09
102 Millie F 59 Jamaica Soup seller 6-May-09
103 Lorraine F 39 Jamaica Higgler/clothes 8-May-09
104 Aunty Amy F 62 Jamaica Sewing/drapes and sheets 8-May-09
105 Patsy F 46 Jamaica Grocery shop 8-May-09
106 Dionne F 40 Jamaica Higgler/children's shoes 8-May-09
107 Rose F 48 Jamaica Biscuit/snack stall 8-May-09
108 Sophia F 39 Jamaica Cook shop 8-May-09
109 RastaTasha F 30 Jamaica Grocery shop 11-May-09
110 Rastaman M 43 Jamaica Grocery shop 11-May-09
111 Eva F 50 Jamaica Pastry shop 11-May-09
112 Shotta M 50 Jamaica Pastry shop 11-May-09
113 D M 41 Jamaica Cook shop 11-May-09
114 Sonia F 36 Jamaica Snack/ice cream vendor 15-May-09
115 Monica F 50 Jamaica Grocery shop 15-May-09
116 Anonymous F 35 Jamaica Sewing/grocery 15-May-09
117 Kin Kin F 30 Jamaica
Grocery shop/ Vendor of
gas 15-May-09
118 Donna F 33 Jamaica
Fruit seller/ nail polish
vendor 15-May-09
RT 119 Shortman M 45 Jamaica Cook shop 17-Apr-09
120 Hervin F 70 Jamaica Bar owner 17-Apr-09
337
121 Empress Fay F 55 Jamaica
Sewing/drapes, sheets,
cushions 17-Apr-09
122 Doylee F 37 Jamaica Cook shop 13-May-09
123 Colonel M 30 Jamaica Welder 13-May-09
124
Auntie
Blosson F 55 Jamaica Bar owner 1-Jun-09
125 Miss. Betty F 78 Jamaica Grocery store 1-Jun-09
126 Fergie M 52 Jamaica
Glass and home supplies
store 1-Jun-09
127 Miss B F 38 Jamaica Haberdashery 1-Jun-09
128 Kiddies M 45 Jamaica Haberdashery/variety store 1-Jun-09
129 Tricia F 31 Jamaica Bar owner 3-Jun-09
130 Kevon M 18 Jamaica Grocery store/Wholesaler 3-Jun-09
131
Reggae
Rasta M 32 Jamaica Snack stall 3-Jun-09
132 Peter M 34 Jamaica
Car and water pump repair
shop 3-Jun-09
133 Rocky M 37 Jamaica Water pump repair shop 3-Jun-09
134 Noah M 60 Jamaica Cabinet maker 3-Jun-09
135 Paula F 33 Jamaica Bar owner 5-Jun-09
136 Angella F 45 Jamaica Snack shop 5-Jun-09
137 Monica F 71 Jamaica Vegetable stall 8-Jun-09
138 Charm F 43 Jamaica Grocery shop 8-Jun-09
139 Marcia F 33 Jamaica Nail salon 8-Jun-09
140 Roxanne F 24 Jamaica Snack shop 8-Jun-09
141 Ann F 45 Jamaica Haberdashery 10-Jun-09
142 Beverly F 62 Jamaica
Vegetables, fruits and
provisions stall 10-Jun-09
143 Birdie F 29 Jamaica Grocery shop 10-Jun-09
338
144 Cheryl F 40 Jamaica Seamstress 10-Jun-09
145 Nicky F 29 Jamaica Fruit stall, market 10-Jun-09
146 Nana F 61 Jamaica Snack shop 10-Jun-09
FG4 147 Cardene F 35 Jamaica Seamstress/Day care 10-Jun-09
148 Dell F 57 Jamaica Vendor/snack and biscuits 10-Jun-09
149 Blacka M 57 Jamaica Higgler/clothes, Arcade 10-Jun-09
150 Lloyd M 47 Jamaica Mechanic 10-Jun-09
151 Sheryl F 34 Jamaica Higgler 10-Jun-09
152 Kadian F 21 Jamaica Ice cream vendor 10-Jun-09
153 Joyce F 58 Jamaica Seller/Snacks and drinks 10-Jun-09
154 Gwen F 63 Jamaica Snack stall 10-Jun-09
155 Robert M 43 Jamaica Party rental 10-Jun-09
156 Auntie Joy F 44 Jamaica Grocery shop 10-Jun-09
157 Angella F 52 Jamaica
Restaurant and grocery
shop 10-Jun-09
158 Sharon F 47 Jamaica Seamstress 10-Jun-09
159 Ann F 44 Jamaica Cookshop 10-Jun-09
160 Jerome M 27 Jamaica Cabinet maker 10-Jun-09
DT 161 Browning F 35 Jamaica
Grocery fruit seller in
market 7-May-09
162 Tessa F 31 Jamaica
Imported fruit
seller/market 7-May-09
163 Colonel M 54 Jamaica Grocery stall at market 7-May-09
FG5 164 Charmaine F 34 Jamaica
Higgler/women's clothes
and cosmetics 30-Mar-09
165 Novlette F 33 Jamaica Grocery shop 30-Mar-09
166 Jacqueline F 48 Jamaica Bar owner 30-Mar-09
167 Cholus F 45 Jamaica Grocery shop 30-Mar-09
339
168 Janet F 52 Jamaica Grocery shop 30-Mar-09
169 Millicent F 66 Jamaica Vendor/clothes, Arcade 30-Mar-09
170 Michelle F 35 Jamaica Dress-making 30-Mar-09
171 Luna F 50 Jamaica Grocery shop 30-Mar-09
172 Nicky F 30 Jamaica Higgler/varies 30-Mar-09
173 Cutie F 54 Jamaica Higgler/children's clothes 30-Mar-09
174 Goadie F 50 Jamaica Higgler/men's clothese 30-Mar-09
175 Smiley M 50 Jamaica Ice man/seller 30-Mar-09
176 Dave M 44 Jamaica Pet shop 30-Mar-09
177 Baba M 44 Jamaica Ice vendor 30-Mar-09
178 Rambo M 23 Jamaica Biscuit shop 23-Jul-09
179 Mais M 29 Jamaica Bakery 23-Jul-09
180 Wifey F 36 Jamaica Bakery 23-Jul-09
181 Shirlee F 43 Jamaica Cosmetic shop 23-Jul-09
182 Kitty cat F 38 Jamaica
Haberdashery/clothes,
household items 23-Jul-09
183 Liberty F 40 Jamaica Grocery shop 23-Jul-09
184 Candy F 31 Jamaica Grocery shop 25-Jul-09
185 CD man M 28 Jamaica Street vendor/CDs 25-Jul-09
186 Fada M 51 Jamaica Snack shop 28-Jul-09
187 Ziggy M 26 Jamaica Grocery shop 28-Jul-09
188 Zaza F 34 Jamaica Bar owner 28-Jul-09
189 Puncy F 54 Jamaica Grocery shop 28-Jul-09
190 Karen F 46 Jamaica Grocery shop 28-Jul-09
TG 191 Brenda F 30 Jamaica Ice cream vendor 11-Jun-09
192 Cindy F 44 Jamaica Snack shop 11-Jun-09
340
193 Allison F 35 Jamaica Grocery shop 11-Jun-09
194 Angella F 43 Jamaica Grocery shop 11-Jun-09
195 Mr. Daley M 66 Jamaica Variety shop 11-Jun-09
196 Jackie F 39 Jamaica Grocery shop 11-Jun-09
197 Tony M 49 Jamaica Bar and grocery shop 11-Jun-09
198 Miguel M 50 Jamaica Pastry and grocery shop 12-Jun-09
199 Amy F 47 Jamaica Pastry and grocery shop 12-Jun-09
200 Nadine F 36 Jamaica Hair salon 12-Jun-09
201 Isis M 44 Jamaica Grocery shop 12-Jun-09
202 Ricky M 29 Jamaica Bar 12-Jun-09
203 Jamax M 33 Jamaica Grocery shop 12-Jun-09
204 Tat F 43 Jamaica Grocery shop 7-Jul-09
205 Carlene F 37 Jamaica Snack counter 7-Jul-09
206 Lisa F 22 Jamaica Street shop/snacks 7-Jul-09
207 Steph F 29 Jamaica Grocery shop 9-Jul-09
208 Vinette F 44 Jamaica Snack stall 9-Jul-09
209 Aunt Merle F 56 Jamaica Grocery shop 9-Jul-09
210 Jimmy M 49 Jamaica Cook shop 9-Jul-09
211 Tikka M 49 Jamaica Grocery shop 9-Jul-09
212 Vincent M 48 Jamaica Baker/Pastry shop 9-Jul-09
213 Robert M 48 Jamaica Grocery shop 9-Jul-09
214 Sharon F 42 Jamaica Grocery shop 13-Jul-09
215 Peaches F 42 Jamaica Grocery shop 13-Jul-09
216 Krissy F 24 Jamaica Grocery shop 13-Jul-09
217 Keisha F 27 Jamaica Bar owner 13-Jul-09
FG6 218 Reds M 40 Jamaica Seller/ variety, cream 15-Jul-09
341
219 Hazel M 77 Jamaica
Vendor/cigarettes and
phone cards 15-Jul-09
220
Marley
Bling M 20 Jamaica Game shop 15-Jul-09
221 Niney M 38 Jamaica Higgler 15-Jul-09
222 Crissy M 26 Jamaica Hair dresser 15-Jul-09
223 Ms. Fatty M 68 Jamaica Patty seller/ fry fish vendor 15-Jul-09
224 Annie M 43 Jamaica Higgler/household items 15-Jul-09
225 Lamore M 34 Jamaica Higgler 15-Jul-09
226 Sydonnie M 53 Jamaica Higgler 15-Jul-09
FG7 227 Brian M 27 Jamaica Motorcycle repair shop 25-Aug-09
228 Welda M 24 Jamaica Welding 25-Aug-09
229 Thomas M 37 Jamaica Masonry 25-Aug-09
230 Hog man M 19 Jamaica Butcher 25-Aug-09
231 Boozie M 30 Jamaica Jerk chicken seller/cook 25-Aug-09
232
Brokie
Shark M 32 Jamaica Street vendor/donuts 25-Aug-09
233 Shawn M 30 Jamaica Vendor/CDs, music 25-Aug-09
ALB 234 Big Mama F 30 Guyana
Nail and hair home-based
salon 20-Apr-10
235 Bibi F 52 Guyana Vendor, plantain chips 20-Apr-10
236 Nanny F 63 Guyana Food shop, poulari 20-Apr-10
237 Franco M 49 Guyana Fruit vendor 20-Apr-10
238 Zia F 55 Guyana Gift shop 20-Apr-10
239 Penny F 43 Guyana Food shop 20-Apr-10
240 Foodie M 52 Guyana Tailor 20-Apr-10
241 Steve M 46 Guyana Grocery shop 20-Apr-10
242 Anonymous M 48 Guyana
Bora (greens) vendor,
Bourda 22-Apr-10
342
243 Anonymous F 40 Guyana
Huckster (shoes), Bourda
market 22-Apr-10
244 Bucky F 21 Guyana Huckster, used clothes 24-Apr-10
245 Mummy F 72 Guyana Sweetie vendor, Tiger Bay 25-Apr-10
246 Tastey F 34 Guyana
Huckster, used clothes,
fruits 26-Apr-10
247 Marcia F 32 Guyana Confectionary shop 26-Apr-10
248 Miss Hazel F 61 Guyana Seamstress 26-Apr-10
249 Corney M 29 Guyana Body repair shop 26-Apr-10
250 Nee F 28 Guyana Hair and Nails salon 26-Apr-10
251 Pimp Juice M 24 Guyana Car wash 27-Apr-10
252 Nicky F 31 Guyana Salt goods shop 27-Apr-10
253
Rhea Food
gyal F 28 Guyana Cooked Food vendor 27-Apr-10
254 Nutman M 50 Guyana Taxi owner 27-Apr-10
255 Sumin F 48 Guyana Grocery vendor 27-Apr-10
256 Grannie F 65 Guyana Salt goods shop 27-Apr-10
FG1 257 Jenny F 53 Guyana Snackette 28-Apr-10
258 Shonelle F 39 Guyana Pastry 28-Apr-10
259 Rushal F 37 Guyana Snackette 28-Apr-10
260 Brother M 57 Guyana Grocery shop 28-Apr-10
261 Red girl F 34 Guyana
Groceries and sun-shades
vendor 28-Apr-10
262 Sita F 57 Guyana Pourri vendor 28-Apr-10
PAP
FG1 263 Rose F 52 Haiti Shoe vendor 9-Oct-10
264 Orphise F 50 Haiti Cola vendor 9-Oct-10
265 Marie Auge F 23 Haiti Cosmetic seller 9-Oct-10
266 Rose Marie F 42 Haiti Bar owner 9-Oct-10
343
267 Ifrenertha F 52 Haiti Grocery vendor 9-Oct-10
268 Nicole F 31 Haiti Used- shoe vendor 9-Oct-10
269 Marie Sonie F 45 Haiti
Diverse consumption
vendor 9-Oct-10
270 Donyi M 35 Haiti
Diverse consumption
vendor 9-Oct-10
271 Marie Rose F 31 Haiti Shoe vendor 9-Oct-10
FG2 272 Michelene F 48 Haiti
Diverse consumption
market vendor 9-Oct-10
273 Miveline F 34 Haiti
Market vendor of food
stuff 9-Oct-10
274 Marie F 52 Haiti
Market vendor of food
stuff 9-Oct-10
275
Marie
Jhanye F 38 Haiti Cosmetic seller 9-Oct-10
276 Roudy M 46 Haiti Clothes vendor 9-Oct-10
344
Appendix 1.3: Interview Tool <Micro Business persons, Jamaica>
To be filled out prior to interview Enumerator initials:
Alias or First Name only:___________________
Age:____________________________
Sex: Male Female
City/Country: ____________________________
Area name: ____________________________
Date of Interview: _________________
Status: Self-employed; Employee;
Unemployed
Circle all that apply.
Registered: Yes No
Type of Business : _________________
Instructions: All interviews must answer Section A. This questionnaire has four parts: A, B, C, D. Make
sure you thank the interviewee for their time and ask permission to start the interview. An interview takes on
average 40 minutes.
Read the suggested script. Be prepared to ask questions and listen to the responses and write down what
they say. Modify the script as needed but make sure the confidentiality and voluntary aspect is clear for
everyone.
------------
To start: My name is Caroline Hossein and I am a student researcher from the University of Toronto in
Canada and also working with University of West Indies (UWI) and the Caribbean Policy and Research
Institute (CaPRI), an independent think tank, based in Jamaica. I am here to ask you questions as part of my
own research but also to effect policy changes that may make a difference for very small business persons. I am
conducting research to understand how microfinance operates in low income areas of your country and to learn
about any political implications in the sector. I want to learn what you have to say and what you think may
assist me in my study. The study intends to discover the experiences of poor business persons – and what banks
meet your need and why? Do micro loans really help your business activities expand and increase its
profitability? And does politics exist in microfinance? If yes, how?
All your answers are strictly confidential and you should feel free to be honest with your responses. I hope that
what you tell me today will contribute to research and sharing knowledge about the microfinance sector in your
country. If you don’t want to answer anything please feel free to say so. This interview should be about one
hour and ten minutes long so we may need to stay on topic. And I hope that it may be okay but I may follow up
with you at another time should I need clarifications. Please note that I am going to do this research in
Jamaica, Haiti and Guyana. CaPRI intends to use this data to make change so we are asking many business
owners to share information with us.
345
Make sure: Ask for permission before you start the interview either verbally or by informed consent form. (In
some cases, ask people to sign the informed consent form – if relevant. Go over this consent form.) Write down
responses using Jamaican patois.
At the end: Thank the interviewee for their time. Make sure you answer any questions. And reassure them that
their answers are important and that you will keep all information confidential.
----------
Be prepared to modify and rephrase questions until the person is clear on the question being asked of them.
All questions are voluntary and they do not have to answer them: they can say “pass”.
Section A: Individual enterprise level
1. What is your marital status: married common-law divorced/separated
widowed single visiting
a. If married or in a common law relationship, what work does your partner/spouse do? -
_________________
b. Do you have children (pickney)? Yes No c. How many? _____________
d. Do your family/relatives work for you? Yes No If no, go to question 2.
e. If yes, please specify who works with you?
2. Tell me about your household. (Those living together and sharing the same food at least once a
day). Total # ___________________ Adults (>=18yrs)____________Children (<18yrs)___________
a. Do you ………………………..your home? taking care or capture (squatting) rent
own share
b. Head of household (principal decision maker) Self husband/partner/male relative
wife/partner/female relative jointly – couple
c. What social class do you see yourself a part of? (must be their opinion) ___________
3. How long ago did you start this business? ______________(year)
a. Is your business owned by: self cooperative partnership/family owned business
b. Formally registered Yes No
4. What type of business do you have?
a. Why did you decide to have your own business?
b. Your business activities are: Retail Services Production Wholesale Other
c. What types of goods do you purchase? (Make notes about procurement or the buying process)
d. Who are your suppliers? Foreign Local Both Don’t know
346
e. If foreign/overseas, what countries? (Write down any businesses in particular)
f. Who are your customers? (your clients/buyers)
local Jamaican businesses foreign businesses If overseas, what countries?
_______________
5. Where did you get money to start up your business? (Probe for Banks, microfinance, Partner,
Dons)
6. Do you have a loan or did you ever have a loan? Yes No If no, go to question 8.
a. How would you rank the importance of loans to your business?
Critical (cannot survive without it) Very Important Important Not Important
Don’t know
b. Is your loan with: Formal Local Formal foreign Semi formal Informal Family
Money lender
c. If loan is important, how has the loan helped you in life? (Do not read. Let them answer. Multiple
responses are possible)
No help Increased wages Shorter or longer working hours Less physical
work/drudgery Equipment Education/Training Medical costs/improved health
Independence More and better food Clothing
Improve your housing Furniture, utensils, goods for your house
Recreation; leisure activities Other (specify)______________________
Only ask if person has (or had) a loan.
7. Do you think a loan helps (or helped) your business expand and increase profitability?
Yes No DK
a. If no, explain why.
8. Do you get most of your income from this business? Yes No
a. Ask for a “rough check” (an estimate) only. What is your daily/ or weekly business sales (in
JMD)? How much money does your business make? (An estimate is fine of total sales; specify
if it is weekly or daily)
b. Asking for a “rough check” only. On average how much profit do you take home per day or
week? (Subtract expenses from total sales. Some people may give you a percentage like 20%
and this is fine too. Specify if it is weekly or daily.)
347
9. Do you pay rent for office/stall space? Yes No
Do you work from home? Yes No
10. Are you worried about the current global financial recession/crisis? Yes No
11. Do you have a saving account? Yes No
If yes, continue, if no, go to question #12.
a. If you have a savings, where do you keep your savings? (check all that apply) ____Foreign
___Local _____other (Write down the name of a place).
b. How do you use your savings? (Let them say their answers here first)
Children’s education Household assets Healthcare Home improvement
Inventory Emergencies Other
12. Do you have employees? Yes No If yes, continue, if no, skip to question 13.
a. If yes, how many of each of the following types of staff do you use in your business?
Paid Unpaid
Full time Part time Totals
Males
Females
Total
13. Since you started your business, how has your business changed? (Don’t read aloud options.
Multiple responses are possible. Look for changes in their businesses that are good or bad. Write
down what they say). None Expanded size of business Added new products
Required additional help Sold in new markets Improved product quality
Obtained discounts for bulk input purchases
348
Continue to the Next Sections:
Important: Answer all sections in one sitting or return at an agreed time to continue the session.
Make sure to explore and explain what you mean by the terms used.
Section B: Politics & Microfinance
1. What does the term (word), politics mean here in Jamaica? (Let them define what politics means
to them in their own words.)
a. How do you feel about politics? (Wait for answer)
2. Does party politics exist in your community? Yes No DK
a. If yes, how? (Ask for an example.)
3. Do you vote? Yes No Cannot say
4. Are you politically active (and campaign for MPs)? Yes No Cannot
say a. If yes, how? (Ask for an example on partisan activities.)
5. Do you receive any support from the government e.g. MPs? Yes No
Cannot say
If yes continue, if they reply no, or cannot say, go to next question.
a. What kind of support do you get?
b. Who is your point person in government (e.g. MP)?
6. Only ask if person has a loan. If you have a loan, why do you think you were successful in
obtaining your loan(s)?
a. Why do you think some very good business persons from the ghetto are not successful in getting
loans?
7. What kind of impact does politics have on your business? Positive Negative None
Both
8. Do you think government should provide loans to business persons in the ghetto?
Yes No DK
a. Explain why or why not.
10. Do you think very small small businesses should pay taxes? Yes No
a. Explain why or why not.
349
Section C: Microfinance & Identities
1. What institutions provide loans for very small business persons here in the ghetto?
2. In your opinion, are loans going to qualified business persons who come from the ghetto?
Yes No DK
a. In your community, which kind of business person has the hardest time getting a very small loan?
(Probe identities, what biases exist with sub-elites)
3. Have you had a hard time accessing loans? Yes No Self excluded themselves
“never tried”
Explain. (Ask for reasons as it pertains to their own identities: is it gender, race, ethnicity, age, class,
sexuality) If the person has excluded themselves or “never tried” (but wants a loan), find out why
they excluded themselves.
4. Do some business persons in the garrison get micro (very small) loans more easily than others?
Yes No DK
a. Why do you think this is the case? (Focus on exclusion/various identities; write down quotes)
5. Discrimination exists in terms of lending criteria and qualifications. Is there any other form of
discrimination in lending money to business persons from the ghettos by MFIs (these loan places)?
(Allow of time to respond as this is a hard question. Remember they may have said something earlier
that answers this question as well.)
Yes No DK
a. If yes, explain what you mean. (List what issues they are having)
6. There are a number of ways small small business people can get money for their business. What kind
of financial provider/model meets the needs of business persons in the inner city? (Read them aloud for
person and check all that apply. State whether they have a preference for one or the other. Multiple
responses are possible.)
Informal bank (partner) Commercial bank Member-owned (cooperative or credit union)
Other (specify)_____________________
7. Do you think all financial institutions treat business women and business men fairly/the same?
Yes No DK
350
If no, explain why. (What are the exclusions, list reasons in order)
8. What financial products do you want from a micro financial institution/place? (You want to find
out if they want loans or savings or insurance or business training or financial advice. Multiple
responses are possible.)
a. Are any of the financial providers located in your community? Yes No DK
b. If yes, which ones?
c. If there are no banks, would like a lender (can be mobile) based here in your community?
Yes No DK
Only ask question if person has a loan:
9. As a microfinance client, name three things you like most about the lender. (Check all that apply. Do
not read aloud. Multiple responses are possible.)
Fees/Interest rate Policies Training Process Staff and management
Products Services Other (specify)
Only ask question if person has a loan:
10. Name three things you do not like about the lender. (Check all that apply. Do not read aloud.
Multiple responses are possible.)
Fees/Interest Rate Policies Training Process Staff and management
Products Services Other (specify)
11. Do you find interest rates affordable for very small loans? Yes No DK
a. Should government make laws to control interest rates? Yes No DK
b. Can new businesses access loans? Yes No DK
Explain your answer.
12. Do you believe with a loan that your very small business can prosper into a larger business?
Yes No
13. What are the attitudes of “outdoor” persons (such as Uptown persons) towards very small business
persons from the ghettos? How do they behave “look pon yuh” and speak to you? (Take time as this is
not an easy question for most persons to answer.)
Section D: Social and Community Development
1. In your community, do persons organize and work together? Yes No DK
If yes, continue and if no skip to question #2.
a. Why do people organize socially in the community?
b. How do people organize where you live? (Ask for an example.)
2. Do you value community organization? Yes No DK
351
3. Does community support help businesses grow and develop? Yes No DK
Explain why or why not?
4. Do you think community groups can counteract or survive when there is an internal flare up, war
or negative party politics? (such as partisan politics or gang war)
Yes No DK Explain what you mean.
5. Are all community organizations free to operate in the ghettos? Yes No DK
Explain your answer.
6. Are you a member of an organization? (check all that apply)
Cooperatives Business association Women’s organization Youth association
Religious group Community Political party Partner Other (include partner)
7. Do you participate in Partner “partna”? Yes No
a. With all the banking options here in Jamaica, why is partners so prevalent here? Why do persons
join partner? (Write down exactly what they say. Multiple responses are possible.)
b. Do you think Partner should continue? Yes No DK
352
Appendix 3.1: Description of Slums in the Jamaica Case
Community Maxfield Park Arnett Gardens Rosetown (Lower)* Whitfield Town Tivoli Gardens Denham Town
Election results PNP (61.48%) Trench Town PNP (88.15%) PNP (91.49%) West Kingston JLP (86.16%)
Population 5,103 10,201 2,642 12,172 4,405 8, 345
Level of Violence High High Very Low/None High Low Moderate
Main forms of
Violence
Intra-party, Gangs,
Police
Gangs, Multiple Dons,
Party Factions
NA Gangs, Police Police, Don Petty theft
Access to State
Resources
None High Low Low High Low
External support Very Low High Moderate-High Very Low Low Low
Community and
Social
Organizations
Norman Manley High
(shift school) School,
Lift Up Jamaica
Arnett Gardens FC, Boys’
Town, Charlie Smith High
School, HEART training
centre, the Trench Town,
Reading Centre and Boys’
Town, AIR, Many Christian
churches
Rose Town Benevolent
Society, Community library,
HCDC, Information Affairs
and Crisis Task Force (I-
Act) Peace Management
Institute (PMI)
HCDC-COPE Tivoli Gardens Community Center, Day care,
Presidential Click, (Don), Edward United Youth
Club
Access to
Microfinance
Low High Very Low Very Low High High
Active Micro
Lenders in Slums in
this Study
JNSBLL, Partner,
Michaels Investment,
Kris an Charles,
Orion
COKCU-AIR, CCCUL,
JNSBLL, MEFL, Partner,
Dons
HCDF-COPE, Access,
Partner, Orion
HCDF-COPE,
Partner
Don, Partner, JNSBLL,
MCL, Nation Growth,
First Union, Worldnet,
Kris an Charles
JNSBLL, MCL,
MEFL, Nation
Growth, First Union,
Don, Partner
*Lower Rosetown is a JLP stronghold but it is part of Trench Town constituency represented by a PNP MP Omar Davies.
Sources: Population data from STATIN 2001. The 2007 election data from www.jamaicaelections.com/general/2007/index.php. Most community profile data taken from
various SDC reports 2007 to 2009 and the Jamaica Information Services(JIS): http://www.jis.gov.jm/newsletter/archive/jan2009/jan30/index.htm. Information on Lower
Rosetown’s organizations taken from http://www.princes-foundation.org/index.php?id=291 and Information Affairs and Crisis Task force (I-ACT) pamphlet (an organization
created two years ago by Melbourne Absolam) to target inner-city youths between 7 and 18 years old.
353
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