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 one variable. Because really, it's a condition about choice, and the lack of freedom.
Bavim se problemima siromaštva više od 20 godina, i ironično je da je problem i pitanje s kojim se najčešće lovim u koštac kako zapravo definirati siromaštvo. Što ono označava? Često govorimo u terminima dolara – ljudi zarađuju manje od jednog ili dva ili tri dolara dnevno. A zapravo kompleksnost siromaštva treba promatrati dohodak kao jednu jedinu varijablu. Jer zapravo, to je uvjet za izbor i nedostatak slobode.
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.
Imala sam iskustvo koje je doista produbilo i rasvijetlilo moje razumijevanje. Bilo je to u Keniji i želim to podijeliti s vama. Bila sam s mojom prijateljicom Susan Meiselas, fotografkinjom, u sirotinjskoj četvrti u Mathare Valley. Mathare Valley je jedna od najstarijih sirotinjskih četvrti u Africi. Udaljena je oko tri milje od Nairobija, duga je jednu milju i široka oko dvije desetine milje, gdje više od pola milijuna ljudi živi nagurano u tim malim limenim kolibama, generaciju za generacijom, unajmljujući ih, često s osam ili 10 ljudi u jednoj prostoriji. Poznato je po prostituciji, nasilju, drogi. Teško mjesto za odrastanje. I dok smo hodale po uskim stazama, bilo je doslovno nemoguće ne stati u kanalizaciju i smeće kraj malih domova. Ali u isto vrijeme bilo je nemoguće ne uočiti ljudsku živost, težnje i ambicije ljudi koji tamo žive. Žene su prale svoju djecu, prale svoju odjeću, vješale je vani na sušenje. Upoznala sam jednu ženu, Mamu Rose, koja je unajmila tu malu limenu kolibu na 32 godine, gdje živi sa svoje sedmero djece. Četvero ih spava u jednom bračnom krevetu, a troje ih spava na blatnjavom podu od linoleuma. I ona ih sve školuje tako što prodaje vodu iz tog kioska i prodaje sapun i kruh iz male trgovine koja se nalazi unutra.
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." And they would look quizzically, and then be like, "High five!"
To je bio i dan nakon inauguracije što me podsjetilo kako je Mathare još uvijek povezana sa svijetom. I vidjela bih djecu na uglovima ulica, i govorili bi “Obama, on je naš brat!” Pa bih ja rekla ”Pa, Obama je moj brat što znači da si i ti moj brat.” Gledali bi me zapanjeno, pa bi mi rekli, “Daj pet!”
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. And she said, "You know, the poverty wasn't so bad. It was the humiliation and the embarrassment of it all."
Tu sam upoznala Jane. Bila sam odmah zapanjena ljubaznošću i nježnošću njenoga lica i zamolila sam je da mi ispriča svoju priču. Počela je s prepričavanjem svoga sna. Rekla je, “Imala sam dva. Moj prvi san je bio da postanem liječnica, a drugi je bio da se udam za dobrog muškarca, koji bi bio sa mnom i mojom obitelji. Moja je majka bila samohrana majka, i nije mogla priuštiti plaćanje školarine. Pa sam morala odustati od prvog sna, i usredotočila sam se na drugi." Udala se s 18 godina, odmah dobila dijete. I kad je navršila 20 godina, zatrudnjela je s drugim djetetom, majka joj je umrla i suprug ju je napustio -- oženio je drugu ženu. I bila je ponovno u Mathare, bez dohotka bez kvalifikacija, bez novaca. Pa se naposljetku okrenula prostituciji. To nije bilo organizirano na način na koji svi mi mislimo. Otišla bi noću u grad s otprilike 20 djevojaka, tražila posao i ponekad bi se vratila s nekoliko šilinga ili ponekad s ničim. I rekla je, “Znaš, siromaštvo nije bilo tako loše. Već poniženje i sramota zbog svega.”
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.
2001. godine se njezin život promijenio. Imala je prijateljicu koja je čula za jednu organizaciju, Jamii Bora, koja je posuđivala novac ljudima bez obzira na to koliko ste siromašni, dokle god ste razmjernu količinu novca štedjeli. Bila je potrebna godina dana da bi uštedjela 50 dolara, i počela je posuđivati, i kroz neko vrijeme bila je u mogućnosti kupiti šivaću mašinu. Počela je krojiti. I to ju je dovelo do onoga što danas radi, a to je obilaženje trgovina s rabljenom odjećom, i za otprilike tri dolara i 25 centi kupi staru plesnu haljinu. Neke među njima mogu biti one koje ste vi dali. Doradi ih volanima i vrpcama, i stvara svečanu odjeću koju prodaje ženama za 16. rođendane njihovih kćeri ili za Prvu pričest-- one prekretnice u životu koje ljudi žele slaviti iz cijelog ekonomskog spektra. I radi jako dobar posao. Zapravo, promatrala sam je, hodala je po ulicama zazivajući. I prije nego što si se okrenuo, stvorila se gomila žena oko nje, kupovale haljine.
And I reflected, as I was watching her sell the dresses, and also the jewelry 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.
I razmišljala sam, dok sam je gledala kako prodaje haljine, i nakit koji sama radi, da sada Jane zarađuje više od četiri dolara dnevno. I po mnogim definicijama, nije više siromašna. Ali i dalje živi u Mathare Valley. I ne može se odseliti. Živi sa svom tom nesigurnošću, i zapravo, u siječnju, tijekom etničkih nemira, bila je istjerana iz svoje kuće i morala je pronaći novu kolibu u kojoj je mogla živjeti.
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.
Jamii Bora to razumije. I razumije da kada govorimo o siromaštvu, moramo gledati ljude iz cijelog ekonomskog spektra. I tako s dugoročnim kapitalom Acumena i ostalih organizacija, zajmovima i investicijama koji dugoročno dolaze s njima, grade jeftino stambeno područje, otprilike sat vremena udaljenosti od centra Nairobija. I dizajnirali su ga iz perspektive klijenata poput Jane, inzistirajući na obavezama i odgovornosti. Tako da ona mora dati 10 posto od hipoteke -- od ukupne vrijednosti ili oko 400 dolara ušteđevine. Onda oni uspoređuju njezinu hipoteku s najamninom koju je platila za njezinu malu straćaru. I u narednih nekoliko tjedana, ona će biti među prvih 200 obitelji koje će useliti u to područje.
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. And 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."
Kada sam je pitala straši li se ičega, ili hoće li joj nešto nedostajati iz Mathare, rekla je „Čega bih se mogla strašiti s čime se već dosad nisam suočila? HIV pozitivna sam. Sa svime sam se nosila.“ I rekla je „Što bi mi moglo nedostajati? Misliš li da će mi nedostajati nasilje ili droga? Nedostatak privatnosti? Misliš li da će mi nedostajati to što ne znam hoće li mi djeca stići doma na kraju dana?“ Rekla je „Da mi daš 10 minuta torbe bi mi bile spakirane.“ I rekla sam, „A što je s tvojim snovima?“ A ona je rekla, „Pa, znaš, moji snovi ne izgledaju onako kao što sam mislila da će izgledati kada sam bila djevojčica. Ali ako razmislim o tome, mislila sam da želim supruga, ali ono što sam zapravo željela je obitelj koja je voljena. I strahovito volim svoju djecu i ona vole mene.“ Rekla je „Mislila sam da želim biti liječnica, ali ono što sam zapravo željela je biti netko tko čini dobro i ozdravljuje i liječi. I osjećam se doista blagoslovljeno zbog svega što imam, da dva dana u tjednu odlazim i savjetujem HIV pacijente.“ I rekla sam, „Pogledaj me. Nisi mrtva. Još uvijek si živa. Ako si još uvijek živa trebaš činiti dobro.“ A ona je rekla, „Nisam liječnik koji daje tablete. Ali možda ja, dajem nešto bolje, jer ja im dajem nadu.“
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.
I u jeku ove ekonomske krize, kada su mnogi od nas skloni povući se zbog straha, mislim da smo spremni uzeti savjet od Jane i izaći iz okvira, shvatiti da biti siromašan ne znači biti običan. Jer kad su sustavi pokvareni, kao oni koje viđamo po svijetu, to je prilika za invenciju i inovaciju. To je prilika da se doista izgradi svijet gdje možemo pružiti usluge i proizvode svim ljudima, kako bi mogli donositi odluke i izbore za sebe same. Doista vjerujem da upravo tada počinje dostojanstvo. Dugujemo to svakoj Jane na svijetu. I jednako važno, to dugujemo sebi samima.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)