The thunder came but life goes on…We left our village in Munshigonj and travelled by a small double decker engine boat with blue vinyl seats that were cracking and wooden planks of a floor for our visit to the first Grameen center. A beggar stood outside hugging the steel rod window that separated us from her. Our field officer asked what she did for a living. “I ride this boat,” was her reply. “I stay on this boat all day hoping that someone will give me some money or food to feed my two children at the end of the day.” She coughed a deep raspy cough and hawked her spit to the left side of the window…

Allison and I sat looking at each other wishing we could have done something to help her. Our boat danced gently with the intermittant put put put put of the engine away down the riverway, past the long rods of bamboo laying on the river embankment. Past the fishing boats and the men casting their U shaped fishing nets…Past the woman bathing pouring buckets of water on her drenched sari and ebony hair. Past the boats overloaded with sacks of brown potatoes. The color of the water was the same as the brown burlap sacks. Boats passing us carried passengers and goods upstream to the factories and warehouses of Dhaka. Dreams of prosperity and hope trailed along…

This river saw a lot of action. Transporting everything from produce to textiles, to bricks and dreams…..This river would never leave. Each ripple of water was equivalent to a life living in poverty.
We arrrived fifteen minutes down the river to the loud blasting megaphone horn of the boat. Up creaky metal planks. Past the the crowded dock. Past the puffed rice sellars. Past the beadi cigarettes. We walked. And we walked down narrow roads and dodging bicycle rickshaws. Past the roti man. Past the shoe cobbler right next to him. Past the young boy sitting on a mound of green coconuts.

We turned and trudged, through mud tracks, past banana trees and into the grove with thatched houses, and among sheets of shining aluminum that adorned the houses of Grameen borrowers, a symbol of their hard work.

The villagers were expecting us. We sat down in the hut. The center chief told us that group attendance was only at 50% because of last night’s thunderstorm. However, by the end of the meeting, some members had showed up or had sent their payment with another member in their village. This is how Grameen maintains close to 100% repayment rates. Responsibility is instilled as a respected value among women borrowers. They pride themselves in this and take responsibility for each other, knowing that they cannot acquire future loans unless they have a good credit record and this goes for all members, not just a single individual.

The women sat observing us and we smiled. It’s difficult not to be amazed at the transformation of lives. Writing case studies was part of the Grameen dialogue experience and before we began our interviews we invited questions. “Are you married?” The women asked us. “Do you have brothers, sisters? What is your life like? “
We sat and talked with the women. One young woman stood up and told her story:

“The best thing about Grameen is that it allows us to take loans to build a new house, build a tubewell and have a sanitary latrine in our village…[but how to do this without money?] Not even my parents will give me a loan for 5,000 taka (just over 100 US dollars), but Grameen will give me this loan.” Then she proudly added: “And I can pay it back.”

Than an older woman with grayish white hair stood up. “I’ve been with Grameen for eighteen years. Before joining I used to rear a single cow. Now I do potato trading. My family has a storehouse in Dhaka city where we store the potatoes. We now employ eight to ten people and our net income per year is 40,000 to 50,000 taka per year. Now I have three cows. I was able to purchase a homestead, my own land, and build two houses for my family. I have two sons who were both educated up to 6th grade and my daughter is now 25 and married.”

She insisted that we visit her cows. And so we did. There stood Mrs. Shahida Begum* in the coconut grove proudly displaying the two cows that brought her family some wealth.

__________________________________________________

Click here to see Mrs. Begum and her cows.

* Names have been changed for confidentiality.