Jacqueline Novogratz 谈脱离贫困

===================================
http://dotsub.com/view/5e80c3f4-2511-48c2-917c-f823586b45a4
Jacqueline Novogratz 谈脱离贫困
我已经研究贫困问题二十多年了， 所以颇具讽刺意味的一件事就是我最多在挣扎的问题 是你到底上怎么定义贫困。贫困的意思是什么？ 我们经常会看钱 －－ 有的人每天挣的钱不到一美元或者两美元或者三美元。 但是对于贫困这个复杂的概念 收入确实只是其中的一个因素。 因为事实上，贫困是有关选择的状态， 和缺少自由的状态。
而我的一次经历则使我深刻而清晰地 得到对贫困的理解。 那是在肯尼亚，我想要和你分享这个经历。 那时我和我的摄影师朋友Susan Meiselas 在玛萨瑞山谷的贫民区。 现在，玛萨瑞山谷已经成为其中一个非洲最古老的贫民区了。 那是在内罗毕外面三公里地方， 那里有一英里长，差不多五分之一英里宽， 有五十多万人 拥挤的住在这些小简易房里， 一代接着一代，租住这些简易房， 经常是每个房间里住8到10个人。 而且这里因为卖淫，暴力和毒品而有名。 一个很艰苦的生长环境。 当我们走在一个狭窄的过道， 那完全不可能不踩到 小房子周边的马桶出来的脏水和垃圾。 但是同时，那也 不可能看不到人类的活力， 住在那里的人的抱负和野心。 女人们洗着她们的孩子，洗着她们的衣服，把衣服凉出来。 我遇见了一个女人，Rose妈妈， 她已经租在这个小简易房32年了， 和她的7个孩子一起住。 四个孩子在一个双人床上睡觉， 还有三个睡在泥和油毡地上。 她靠在亭子里卖水挣钱让所有的孩子都上学， 她还在小商店里卖肥皂和面包。
那天也是美国总统就职典礼的第二天， 然后我意识到现在，玛萨瑞仍然和外面的世界相连。 我看到小孩子们在街角， 他们在说：“奥巴马，他是我们的兄弟！” 然后我说：“这样的话，奥巴马是我的兄弟，所以你也是我的兄弟了。” 他们好奇地看着我，然后就说，“High five！”
我就是在这遇见了简。 我马上就被她脸上的美好、平和打动了。 然后我请她给我讲她的故事。 她从她的梦想开始讲给我听。她说：“我有两个梦想。 一个的梦想是当一个医生， 第二个梦想是嫁一个好的男人， 他可以跟我和我的家在一起。 因为我的妈妈是单身母亲， 没有能力负担学费。 所以我不得不放弃了第一个梦想，并且我努力实现我的第二个梦想。“ 她18岁的时候结婚了，然后马上生了孩子。 当她到了20岁，发现她怀了第二个孩子， 她的妈妈去世了而且她的丈夫离开了她－－和另外一个女人结婚了。 所以她又到了玛萨瑞，没有收入没有本事，没有钱。 最终变成了一个妓女。 事情并不是象我们通常想像的那样发生。 她每天晚上和大约20个女孩去城市里， 寻找工作，有的时候能挣点钱回来， 有的时候什么都挣不到。 她说，”你知道，穷并不是太坏。那只是耻辱 和尴尬。
在2001年，她的生活改变了。 她的一个女性朋友听说了这个组织，Jamii Bora， 这个组织可以借给人钱，不管你是多么穷。 只要你能提供一定的存款。 然后她就用了一年的时间存了50美元， 然后就开始借钱，过了一段时间她已经可以买一个缝纫机了。 她开始制作衣服。 然后这就使她变成了现在的样子， 进入了二手衣服市场， 她用了3美元25美分买了一个晚礼服。 有一些可能是你们捐的。 她用花边和布条重新改了这些衣服， 还把衣服弄的蓬松，然后她把衣服买给那些女人， 她们为女儿的16岁的生日或者第一个圣餐礼－－ 那些人们想要去庆祝的生活中的里程碑， 不论穷还是富有。 她的生意真的很好。事实上，我观察她 走到街道卖衣服。在你注意到以前， 那已经有一群女人围着她买这些裙子。
然后我想到，当我在看她卖这些裙子， 她还卖一些她自己做的首饰。 现在简每天挣的钱比四美元多。 在很多定义中，她不再是贫困了。 但是她仍然住在玛萨瑞山谷。 她不能搬出去。 她在所有危险中生活， 事实上，在一月份，在国内暴动期间， 她被从家里赶出来，不得不找一个新的简易房 来居住。
Jamii Bora 明白这点。而且明白 当我们谈论贫困， 我们必须去看所有经济范围内的人。 所以从Acumen或者其他组织来的耐心资本， 贷款和投资都是长期的， 他们建立了一个低成本住房发展项目， 离内罗毕中心有一个小时路程的距离。 他们是按照像 简这样的顾客设计的， 坚持负责的原则。 所以她必须付百分之十的抵押款－－ 全款的，或者是四百美元的存款。 然后他们比较她付的抵押款和她付的简易房的房租。 然后在接下来的几个星期，她将成为 搬进这个发展计划的两百个家庭之一。
当我问她是否害怕什么事情， 或者会不会想念玛萨瑞的任何东西， 她说，“我会害怕什么 还有什么是我没见过的？ 我是艾滋病人。我已经经历了一切。” 而且她说，“我会想念什么？ 你觉得我会想念暴力和毒品吗？没有私人空间？ 你觉得我会想念那种不知道我的孩子今晚会不会回到家的感觉吗？ 她说”如果你给我十分钟 我就可以准备好我的行李了。“ 我说，”那你的梦想呢？“ 然后她说，”那，你知道， 我的梦想并不像我小时候想的那样。 如果我仔细想想，我本来想要一个丈夫， 但是我真正想要的是一个有爱的家 我非常的爱我的孩子，她们也爱我。“ 她说，”我本来想当一个医生， 但是我真正想要的是当一个 可以服务，可以疗伤的人。 我对我现在所拥有的一切感到非常庆幸， 两个星期前我去安慰一个艾滋病患者， 我说，“看看我。你没有死。 你还活着。如果你还活着你必须去服务。” 她还说，”我不是一个可以开药的医生。 但是也许我能够提供一些更好的东西 因为我给她们的是希望。“
在当下经济危机的中， 我们中的很多人倾向于 恐惧，但我觉得我们理应 从简的身上得到启示， 认识到当贫穷不等于平庸。 因为当一个系统被破坏了， 就像我们现在看到的世界， 那正是一个发明创造的机会， 去真正地建立一个新的世界， 我们可以扩展我们的服务和产品 到所有人类的世界，这样他们 可以为他们自己做出决定和选择。 我真的相信那就是尊严的开始。 我们欠世界上的像简一样的人。 同样重要，我们欠我们自己。
谢谢。
（掌声响起）
------------------------------------
Jacqueline Novogratz on an escape from poverty
I've been working on issues of poverty for more than 20 years, and so it's ironic that the problem that and question that I most grapple with is how you actually define poverty. What does it mean? So often, we look at dollar terms -- people making less than a dollar or two or three a day. And yet the complexity of poverty really has to look at income as only as only one variable. Because really, it's a condition about choice, and the lack of freedom.

And I had an experience that really deepened and elucidated for me the understanding that I have. It was in Kenya, and I want to share it with you. I was with my friend Susan Meiselas, the photographer, in the Mathare Valley slums. Now, Mathare Valley is one of the oldest slums in Africa. It's about three miles out of Nairobi, and it's a mile long and about two-tenths of a mile wide, where over half a million people live crammed in these little tin shacks, generation after generation, renting them, often eight or 10 people to a room. And it's known for prostitution, violence, drugs. A hard place to grow up. And when we were walking through the narrow alleys, it was literally impossible not to step in the raw sewage and the garbage alongside the little homes. But at the same time it was also impossible not to see the human vitality, the aspiration and the ambition of the people who live there. Women washing their babies, washing their clothes, hanging them out to dry. I met this woman, Mama Rose, who has rented that little tin shack for 32 years, where she lives with her seven children. Four sleep in one twin bed, and three sleep on the mud and linoleum floor. And she keeps them all in school by selling water from that kiosk, and from selling soap and bread from the little store inside.

It was also the day after the inauguration, and I was reminded how Mathare is still connected to the globe. And I would see kids on the street corners, and they'd say "Obama, he's our brother!" And I'd say "Well, Obama's my brother, so that makes you my brother too." They would look quizzically, and then be like, "High five!"

And it was here that I met Jane. I was struck immediately by the kindness and the gentleness in her face, and I asked her to tell me her story. She started off by telling me her dream. She said, "I had two. My first dream was to be a doctor, and the second was to marry a good man who would stay with me and my family. Because my mother was a single mom, and couldn't afford to pay for school fees. So I had to give up the first dream, and I focused on the second." She got married when she was 18, had a baby right away. And when she turned 20, found herself pregnant with a second child, her mom died and her husband left her -- married another woman. So she was again in Mathare, with no income no skill set, no money. And so she ultimately turned to prostitution. It wasn't organized in the way we often think of it. She would go into the city at night with about 20 girls, look for work, and sometimes come back with a few shillings, or sometimes with nothing. She said, "You know, the poverty wasn't so bad. It was the humiliation and the embarrassment of it all."

In 2001, her life changed. She had a girlfriend who had heard about this organization, Jamii Bora, that would lend money to people no matter how poor you were, as long as you provided a commensurate amount in savings. And so she spent a year to save 50 dollars, and started borrowing, and over time she was able to buy a sewing machine. She started tailoring. And that turned into what she does now, which is to go into the secondhand clothing markets, and for about three dollars and 25 cents she buys an old ball gown. Some of them might be ones you gave. And she repurposes them with frills and ribbons, and makes these frothy confections that she sells to women for their daughter's sweet 16 or first Holy Communion -- those milestones in a life that people want to celebrate all along the economic spectrum. And she does really good business. In fact, I watched her walk through the streets hawking. And before you knew it, there was a crowd of women around her, buying these dresses.

And I reflected, as I was watching her sell the dresses, and also the jewelery that she makes. that now Jane makes more than four dollars a day. And by many definitions she is no longer poor. But she still lives in Mathare Valley. And so she can't move out. She lives with all of that insecurity, and in fact, in January, during the ethnic riots, she was chased from her home and had to find a new shack in which she would live.

Jamii Bora understands that. And understands that when we're talking about poverty, we've got to look at people all along the economic spectrum. And so with patient capital from Acumen and other organizations, loans and investments that will go the long term with them, they built a low-cost housing development, about an hour outside Nairobi central. And they designed it from the perspective of customers like Jane herself, insisting on responsibility and accountability. So she has to give 10 percent of the mortgage -- of the total value, or about 400 dollars in savings. And then they match her mortgage to what she paid in rent for her little shanty. And in the next couple of weeks, she's going to be among the first 200 families to move into this development.

When I asked her if she feared anything, or whether she would miss anything from Mathare, she said, "What would I fear that I haven't confronted already? I'm HIV positive. I've dealt with it all." And she said, "What would I miss? You think I will miss the violence or the drugs? The lack of privacy? Do you think I'll miss not knowing if my children are going to come home at the end of the day?" She said "If you gave me 10 minutes my bags would be packed." I said, "Well what about your dreams?" and she said, "Well, you know, my dreams don't look exactly like I thought they would when I was a little girl. But if I think about it, I thought I wanted a husband, but what I really wanted was a family that was loving. And I fiercely love my children, and they love me back." She said, "I thought that I wanted to be a doctor, but what I really wanted to be was somebody who served and healed and cured. And so I feel so blessed with everything that I have, that two days a week I go and I counsel HIV patients. And I say, 'Look at me. You are not dead. You are still alive. If you are still alive you have to serve.'" And she said, "I'm not a doctor who gives out pills. But maybe me, I give out something better because I give them hope."

And in the middle of this economic crisis, where so many of us are inclined to pull in with fear, I think we're well suited to take a cue from Jane and reach out, recognizing that being poor doesn't mean being ordinary. Because when systems are broken, like the ones that we're seeing around the world, it's an opportunity for invention and for innovation. It's an opportunity to truly build a world where we can extend services and products to all human beings, so that they can make decisions and choices for themselves. I truly believe it's where dignity starts. We owe it to the Janes of the world. And just as important, we owe it to ourselves.

Thank you.

(Applause)