Jeg er virkelig beæret over at være her, og som Chris sagde, er der gået over 20 år siden, jeg startede med at arbejde i Afrika. Min første introduktion var i lufthavnen i Abidjan på en svedig, Elfenbenskyst-morgen. Jeg havde lige forladt Wall Street, klippet mit hår for at ligne Margaret Mead, givet væk næsten alt, hvad jeg ejede, og ankom med alt det vigtigste -- noget poesi, noget tøj og selvfølgelig en guitar -- for jeg skulle redde verden, og jeg tænkte, jeg bare ville starte med det afrikanske kontinent.
I really am honored to be here, and as Chris said, it's been over 20 years since I started working in Africa. My first introduction was at the Abidjan airport on a sweaty, Ivory Coast morning. I had just left Wall Street, cut my hair to look like Margaret Mead, given away most everything that I owned, and arrived with all the essentials -- some poetry, a few clothes, and, of course, a guitar -- because I was going to save the world, and I thought I would just start with the African continent.
Men bogstavelig talt i løbet af et par dage fra min ankomst fik jeg at vide i sikre vendinger af et antal vestafrikanske kvinder, at afrikanere ikke ville reddes, ellers mange tak, mindst af alt af mig. Jeg var for ung, ugift jeg havde ingen børn, kendte ikke rigtigt Afrika, og desuden var mit fransk ynkeligt. Og derfor var det en utrolig smertefuld tid i mit liv, og alligevel begyndte det egentligt at give mig den ydmyghed til at starte med at lytte.
But literally within days of arriving I was told, in no uncertain terms, by a number of West African women, that Africans didn't want saving, thank you very much, least of all not by me. I was too young, unmarried, I had no children, didn't really know Africa, and besides, my French was pitiful. And so, it was an incredibly painful time in my life, and yet it really started to give me the humility to start listening.
Jeg tror, at fiasko også kan være en utrolig motiverende kraft, så jeg flyttede til Kenya og arbejdede i Uganda, og jeg mødte en gruppe rwandiske kvinder, der i 1986 bad mig flytte til Kigali for at hjælpe dem med at starte den første mikrofinansinstitution der. Og det gjorde jeg, og vi endte med at navngive den Duterimbere, der betyder "at gå frem med entusiasme." Og mens vi gjorde det, gik det op for mig, at der ikke var ret mange forretninger, der var bæredygtige og startede af kvinder, og derfor skulle jeg måske også prøve at styre en forretning. Og derfor begyndte jeg at kigge rundt, og jeg hørte om et bageri, der blev styret af 20 prostituerede. Og, en smule fascineret, tog jeg hen for at møde denne gruppe, og det, jeg fandt, var 20 ugifte mødre, der forsøgte at overleve.
I think that failure can be an incredibly motivating force as well, so I moved to Kenya and worked in Uganda, and I met a group of Rwandan women, who asked me, in 1986, to move to Kigali to help them start the first microfinance institution there. And I did, and we ended up naming it Duterimbere, meaning "to go forward with enthusiasm." And while we were doing it, I realized that there weren't a lot of businesses that were viable and started by women, and so maybe I should try to run a business, too. And so I started looking around, and I heard about a bakery that was run by 20 prostitutes. And, being a little intrigued, I went to go meet this group, and what I found was 20 unwed mothers who were trying to survive.
Og det var virkelig begyndelsen på min forståelse af sprogets magt, og hvordan det, vi kalder folk, så ofte distancerer os fra dem og gør dem små. Jeg fandt også ud af, at bageriet overhovedet ikke var som en forretning, at det rent faktisk var klassisk velgørenhed styret af en person med gode intentioner, der egentlig brugte 600 dollars om måneden på at holde disse 20 kvinder travle med at lave små ting og bagværk og leve på 50 cent om dagen, stadig i fattigdom. Så jeg lavede en aftale med kvinderne. Jeg sagde, "Hør, vi dropper velgørenhedsdelen, og vi styrer det her som en forretning, og jeg vil hjælpe jer." De sagde nervøst ja. Jeg startede nervøst, og selvfølgelig er tingene altid sværere, end man tror, de vil være.
And it was really the beginning of my understanding the power of language, and how what we call people so often distances us from them, and makes them little. I also found out that the bakery was nothing like a business, that, in fact, it was a classic charity run by a well-intentioned person, who essentially spent 600 dollars a month to keep these 20 women busy making little crafts and baked goods, and living on 50 cents a day, still in poverty. So, I made a deal with the women. I said, "Look, we get rid of the charity side, and we run this as a business and I'll help you." They nervously agreed. I nervously started, and, of course, things are always harder than you think they're going to be.
For det første troede jeg, altså, vi har brug for et salgshold, og vi er tydeligvis ikke A-holdet her, så lad os -- jeg lavede al denne træning. Og epitomen var, da jeg bogstaveligt talt marcherede ind i gaderne i Nyamirambo, der er Kigalis populære kvarter, med en spand, og jeg solgte alle disse små dougnuts til folk, og jeg kom tilbage, og jeg var helt, "Ser I?" Og kvinderne sagde, "Altså Jacqueline, hvem i Nyamirambo vil ikke købe dougnuts fra en orange spand af en høj amerikansk kvinde?" Og altså -- (Latter) -- det er en god pointe.
First of all, I thought, well, we need a sales team, and we clearly aren't the A-Team here, so let's -- I did all this training. And the epitome was when I literally marched into the streets of Nyamirambo, which is the popular quarter of Kigali, with a bucket, and I sold all these little doughnuts to people, and I came back, and I was like, "You see?" And the women said, "You know, Jacqueline, who in Nyamirambo is not going to buy doughnuts out of an orange bucket from a tall American woman?" And like -- (Laughter) -- it's a good point.
Så jeg brugte den helt igennem amerikanske måde med konkurrencer, hold og individ. Total fiasko, men med tiden lærte kvinderne at sælge på deres egen måde. Og de begyndte at lytte til markedspladsen, og de kom tilbage med idéer til kassavachips og bananchips og sorghumbrød, og før man fik set sig om, havde vi gennemskuet Kigalis marked, og kvinderne tjente tre til fire gange det nationale gennemsnit. Og med det selvtillidsindskud tænkte jeg, "Nå, det er tid til at lave et rigtigt bageri, så lad os male det." Og kvinderne sagde, "Det er en rigtig god idé." Og jeg sagde, "Nå, hvad farve vil I gerne farve det?" Og de sagde, "Altså, du vælger." Og jeg sagde, "Nej, nej, jeg lærer at lytte. I vælger. Det er jeres bageri, jeres gade, jeres land -- ikke mit." Men de ville ikke give mig et svar. Så, en uge, to uger, tre uger gik, og endelig sagde jeg, "Nå, hvad med blå?" Og de sagde, "Blå, blå, vi elsker blå. Lad os gøre det blåt." Så jeg tog hen til forretningen, jeg tog Gaudence med, den mest genstridige af alle, og vi tog al denne maling og stof til at lave gardiner af med, og på maledagen samlede vi alle i Nyamirambo, og idéen var, vi ville male det hvidt med blå som pynt, som et lille fransk bageri. Men det var tydeligvis ikke så tilfredsstillende som at male en væg helt blå som morgenhimlen.
So then I went the whole American way, with competitions, team and individual. Completely failed, but over time, the women learnt to sell on their own way. And they started listening to the marketplace, and they came back with ideas for cassava chips, and banana chips, and sorghum bread, and before you knew it, we had cornered the Kigali market, and the women were earning three to four times the national average. And with that confidence surge, I thought, "Well, it's time to create a real bakery, so let's paint it." And the women said, "That's a really great idea." And I said, "Well, what color do you want to paint it?" And they said, "Well, you choose." And I said, "No, no, I'm learning to listen. You choose. It's your bakery, your street, your country -- not mine." But they wouldn't give me an answer. So, one week, two weeks, three weeks went by, and finally I said, "Well, how about blue?" And they said, "Blue, blue, we love blue. Let's do it blue." So, I went to the store, I brought Gaudence, the recalcitrant one of all, and we brought all this paint and fabric to make curtains, and on painting day, we all gathered in Nyamirambo, and the idea was we would paint it white with blue as trim, like a little French bakery. But that was clearly not as satisfying as painting a wall of blue like a morning sky.
Så, blå, blå, alt blev blåt. Væggene var blå, vinduerne var blå, fortovet foran blev malet blåt. Og Aretha Franklin råbte "R-E-S-P-E-C-T," kvindernes hofter svajede, og små børn forsøgte at tage malerpenslerne, men det var deres dag. Og til sidst stod vi på den anden side af gaden, og vi så på det, vi havde gjort, og jeg sagde, "Det er så smukt." Og kvinderne sagde, "Det er det virkelig." Og jeg sagde, "Og jeg synes, farven er perfekt," og de nikkede allesammen, undtagen Gaudence, og jeg sagde, "Hvad?" Og hun sagde, "Ingenting." Og jeg sagde, "Hvad?" Og hun sagde, "Altså, det er pænt, men ser du, vores farve er egentlig grøn." Og -- (Latter)
So, blue, blue, everything became blue. The walls were blue, the windows were blue, the sidewalk out front was painted blue. And Aretha Franklin was shouting "R-E-S-P-E-C-T," the women's hips were swaying and little kids were trying to grab the paintbrushes, but it was their day. And at the end of it, we stood across the street and we looked at what we had done, and I said, "It is so beautiful." And the women said, "It really is." And I said, "And I think the color is perfect," and they all nodded their head, except for Gaudence, and I said, "What?" And she said, "Nothing." And I said, "What?" And she said, "Well, it is pretty, but, you know, our color, really, it is green." And -- (Laughter)
-- jeg lærte så, at det at lytte ikke bare er om tålmodighed, men at når man har levet hele sit liv på velgørenhed og været afhængig, er det virkelig svært at sige, hvad man mener. Og mest fordi folk aldrig rigtig spørger en, og når de gør, tror man ikke rigtigt, de vil vide sandheden. Og så lærte jeg, at det at lytte ikke kun er om at vente, men det er også at lære at blive bedre til at stille spørgsmål.
-- I learned then that listening isn't just about patience, but that when you've lived on charity and dependent your whole life long, it's really hard to say what you mean. And, mostly because people never really ask you, and when they do, you don't really think they want to know the truth. And so then I learned that listening is not only about waiting, but it's also learning how better to ask questions.
Og derfor boede jeg i Kigali i omkring to et halvt år og lavede disse to ting, og det var en usædvanlig tid i mit liv. Og det lærte mig tre lektier, som jeg synes er så vigtige for os i dag, og i den grad i det arbejde, jeg laver. Den første er, at værdighed er vigtigere for den menneskelige ånd end velstand. Som Eleni har sagt, når folk får indkomst, får de valg, og det er fundamentalt for værdighed. Men som mennesker vil vi også se hinanden, og vi vil høres af hinanden, og det må vi aldrig glemme. Den anden er, at traditionel velgørenhed og støtte aldrig vil løse fattigdommens problemer.
And so, I lived in Kigali for about two and a half years, doing these two things, and it was an extraordinary time in my life. And it taught me three lessons that I think are so important for us today, and certainly in the work that I do. The first is that dignity is more important to the human spirit than wealth. As Eleni has said, when people gain income, they gain choice, and that is fundamental to dignity. But as human beings, we also want to see each other, and we want to be heard by each other, and we should never forget that. The second is that traditional charity and aid are never going to solve the problems of poverty.
Jeg synes, Andrew dækkede det ret godt, så jeg vil gå videre til den tredje pointe, som er, at markeder alene heller ikke vil løse fattigdommens problemer. Ja, vi styrede det som en forretning, men nogen var nødt til at give den filantropiske støtte, der kom ind i træningen, og styrelsesstøtten, de strategiske råd og måske vigtigst af alt adgangen til nye kontakter, netværker og nye markeder. Og derfor er der på mikroniveau en rolle for denne kombination af investering og filantropi. Og på makroniveau -- nogle af talerne har foreslået, at selv sundhed burde blive privatiseret. Men eftersom jeg havde en far med hjertesygdom og indså, at det, vores familie kunne betale for, ikke var det, han burde have fået, og da jeg havde en god ven, der trådte til og hjalp, tror jeg virkelig på, at alle fortjener adgang til sundhed til priser, de kan betale. Jeg tror, markedet kan hjælpe os med at udarbejde det, men der er nødt til at være en velgørende del, ellers tror jeg ikke, vi kommer til at skabe den slags samfund, vi gerne vil bo i.
I think Andrew pretty well covered that, so I will move to the third point, which is that markets alone also are not going to solve the problems of poverty. Yes, we ran this as a business, but someone needed to pay the philanthropic support that came into the training, and the management support, the strategic advice and, maybe most important of all, the access to new contacts, networks and new markets. And so, on a micro level, there's a real role for this combination of investment and philanthropy. And on a macro level -- some of the speakers have inferred that even health should be privatized. But, having had a father with heart disease, and realizing that what our family could afford was not what he should have gotten, and having a good friend step in to help, I really believe that all people deserve access to health at prices they can afford. I think the market can help us figure that out, but there's got to be a charitable component, or I don't think we're going to create the kind of societies we want to live in.
Og det var så virkelig de lektier, der fik mig til at beslutte, at starte Acumen Fund for omkring seks år siden. Det er en almennyttig, dristig kapitalfond for de fattige, et par oxymoroner i én sætning. Basalt set rejser den velgørende midler fra individer, fonde og firmaer, og så vender vi rundt, og vi investerer egenkapital og lån i både erhverv og almennyttige størrelser, der leverer betalelig sundhed, husning, energi, rent vand til lavindkomstpersoner i Sydasien og Afrika, så de kan foretage deres egne valg. Vi har investerer omkring 20 millioner dollars i 20 forskellige foretagender og har ved dette skabt næsten 20.000 jobs og leveret millionvis af tjenester til folk, der ellers ikke ville have været i stand til at betale dem.
And so, it was really those lessons that made me decide to build Acumen Fund about six years ago. It's a nonprofit, venture capital fund for the poor, a few oxymorons in one sentence. It essentially raises charitable funds from individuals, foundations and corporations, and then we turn around and we invest equity and loans in both for-profit and nonprofit entities that deliver affordable health, housing, energy, clean water to low income people in South Asia and Africa, so that they can make their own choices. We've invested about 20 million dollars in 20 different enterprises, and have, in so doing, created nearly 20,000 jobs, and delivered tens of millions of services to people who otherwise would not be able to afford them.
Jeg vil fortælle jer to historier. Begge foregår i Afrika. Begge handler om at investere i entreprenører, der er dedikerede til service, og som virkelig kender markederne. Begge lever i sammenløbet mellem folkesundhed og foretagender, og begge, fordi de er fabrikanter, skaber jobs direkte og skaber indkomster indirekte, fordi de er i malariasektoren, og Afrika taber omkring 13 milliarder dollars om året på grund af malaria. Og derfor som folk bliver sundere, bliver de også mere velstående.
I want to tell you two stories. Both of them are in Africa. Both of them are about investing in entrepreneurs who are committed to service, and who really know the markets. Both of them live at the confluence of public health and enterprise, and both of them, because they're manufacturers, create jobs directly, and create incomes indirectly, because they're in the malaria sector, and Africa loses about 13 billion dollars a year because of malaria. And so as people get healthier, they also get wealthier.
Den første hedder Advanced Bio-Extracts Limited. Det er et firma startet i Kenya for omkring syv år siden af en utrolig entreprenør kaldet Patrick Henfrey og hans tre kollegaer. Disse er gamle gårdrotter, der har været gennem alle op- og nedturene ved landbrug i Kenya over de sidste 30 år. Nå, denne plante er en bynke; den er den basale komponent i artemisinin, der er den bedst kendte behandling mod malaria. Den stammer fra Kina og det Fjerne Østen, men eftersom malaria normalt forekommer her i Afrika, sagde Patrick og hans kollegaer, "Lad os tage den hertil, for den er et produkt af hastigt voksende værdi." Gårdejerne får tre til fire gange pengene ud af det, som de ville med majs.
The first one is called Advanced Bio-Extracts Limited. It's a company built in Kenya about seven years ago by an incredible entrepreneur named Patrick Henfrey and his three colleagues. These are old-hand farmers who've gone through all the agricultural ups and downs in Kenya over the last 30 years. Now, this plant is an Artemisia plant; it's the basic component for artemisinin, which is the best-known treatment for malaria. It's indigenous to China and the Far East, but given that the prevalence of malaria is here in Africa, Patrick and his colleagues said, "Let's bring it here, because it's a high value-add product." The farmers get three to four times the yields that they would with maize.
Og derfor ved at bruge tålmodig kapital -- penge, de kunne rejse tidligt, som faktisk gik under markedstilbagebetaling og var villige til at tage det lange træk og blive kombineret med styrelsesassistance, strategisk assistance -- de har nu skabt et firma, hvor de opkøber fra 7.500 gårdejere. Så det påvirker omkring 50.000 mennesker. Og jeg tror, nogle af jer måske har besøgt -- disse gårdejere bliver hjulpet af KickStart og TechnoServe, der hjælper dem med at blive mere selvunderstøttende. De køber det, de tørrer det, og de bringer det til denne fabrik, der blev delvist opkøbt af, igen, tålmodig kapital fra Novartis, der har en virkelig interesse i at få pulveret, så de kan lave Coartem. Acumen har arbejdet med ABE i det sidste år, halvandet år, både med at se på en ny forretningsplan, og hvordan udvidelse ser ud, hjælp med styrelsesstøtte og hjælp til at lave regnskabsark og rejse kapital. Og jeg forstod virkelig, hvad tålmodig kapital betød følelsesmæssigt i den sidste måneds tid. For firmaet var bogstaveligt talt 10 dage fra at bevise, at det produkt, de producerede, var på det verdenskvalitetsniveau, der skulle bruges til at lave Coartem, da de var i deres største kontantkrise nogensinde.
And so, using patient capital -- money that they could raise early on, that actually got below market returns and was willing to go the long haul and be combined with management assistance, strategic assistance -- they've now created a company where they purchase from 7,500 farmers. So that's about 50,000 people affected. And I think some of you may have visited -- these farmers are helped by KickStart and TechnoServe, who help them become more self-sufficient. They buy it, they dry it and they bring it to this factory, which was purchased in part by, again, patient capital from Novartis, who has a real interest in getting the powder so that they can make Coartem. Acumen's been working with ABE for the past year, year and a half, both on looking at a new business plan, and what does expansion look like, helping with management support and helping to do term sheets and raise capital. And I really understood what patient capital meant emotionally in the last month or so. Because the company was literally 10 days away from proving that the product they produced was at the world-quality level needed to make Coartem, when they were in the biggest cash crisis of their history.
Og vi ringede til alle de sociale investorer, vi kendte. Altså, nogle af disse samme sociale investorer er virkeligt interesserede i Afrika og forstod vigtigheden af landbrug, og de hjalp endda landmændene. Og selv da vi forklarede, at hvis ABE forsvinder, forsvinder de 7.500 jobs også, har vi ofte denne todeling mellem forretning og det sociale. Og det er virkelig tid til, vi starter med at tænke mere kreativt over, hvordan de kan fusioneres. Så Acumen lavede ikke et, men to bro-lån, og den gode nyhed er, de mødte virkelig verdenskvalitetsklassifikation og er nu i de sidste forhandlinger om at lukke en 20-millioner-dollars aftale for at tage det videre, og jeg tror, at dette vil blive et af de vigtigere firmaer i Østafrika.
And we called all of the social investors we know. Now, some of these same social investors are really interested in Africa and understand the importance of agriculture, and they even helped the farmers. And even when we explained that if ABE goes away, all those 7,500 jobs go away too, we sometimes have this bifurcation between business and the social. And it's really time we start thinking more creatively about how they can be fused. So Acumen made not one, but two bridge loans, and the good news is they did indeed meet world-quality classification and are now in the final stages of closing a 20-million-dollar round, to move it to the next level, and I think that this will be one of the more important companies in East Africa.
Dette er Samuel. Han er landmand. Han boede egentlig i Kiberas slum, da hans far ringede ham op og fortalte ham om bynken og dens stigende værdis potentiale. Så han flyttede tilbage til gården, og det korte af det lange er, at de nu har tre hektar land under dyrkning. Samuels børn er i privatskole, og han er i gang med at hjælpe andre landmænd i området med også at komme ind i bynkeproduktionen -- værdighed værende vigtigere end velstand.
This is Samuel. He's a farmer. He was actually living in the Kibera slums when his father called him and told him about Artemisia and the value-add potential. So he moved back to the farm, and, long story short, they now have seven acres under cultivation. Samuel's kids are in private school, and he's starting to help other farmers in the area also go into Artemisia production -- dignity being more important than wealth.
Det næste kender mange af jer. Jeg talte en smule om det ved Oxford for to år siden, og nogle af jer besøgte A to Z manufacturing, der er et af de store, rigtige firmaer i Østafrika. Det er et andet, der lever på samspillet mellem sundhed og forretning. Og dette er virkelig en historie om en offentlig-privat løsning, der virkelig har virket. Det startede i Japan. Sumitomo havde udviklet en teknologi til dybest set at imprægnere en polyethen-baseret fiber med organisk insektgift, så man kunne lave et sengenet, et malaria sengenet, der ville holde fem år og ikke behøve at blive gen-dybbet.
The next one, many of you know. I talked about it a little at Oxford two years ago, and some of you visited A to Z manufacturing, which is one of the great, real companies in East Africa. It's another one that lives at the confluence of health and enterprise. And this is really a story about a public-private solution that has really worked. It started in Japan. Sumitomo had developed a technology essentially to impregnate a polyethylene-based fiber with organic insecticide, so you could create a bed net, a malaria bed net, that would last five years and not need to be re-dipped.
Det kunne ændre vektoren, men som bynke blev det kun produceret i Østasien. Og som del af sit sociale ansvar, sagde Sumitomo, "Hvorfor eksperimenterer vi ikke med, hvorvidt vi kan producerede det i Afrika for afrikanere?" UNICEF kom frem og sagde, "Vi køber de fleste af nettene, og så giver vi dem væk som del af den globale fonds og FN's forpligtelse over for gravide kvinder og børn, gratis." Acumen kom med den tålmodige kapital, og vi hjalp også med at identificere entreprenøren, som vi alle skulle være partnere med her i Afrika, og Exxon leverede den første harpiks.
It could alter the vector, but like Artemisia, it had been produced only in East Asia. And as part of its social responsibility, Sumitomo said, "Why don't we experiment with whether we can produce it in Africa, for Africans?" UNICEF came forward and said, "We'll buy most of the nets, and then we'll give them away, as part of the global fund's and the U.N.'s commitment to pregnant women and children, for free." Acumen came in with the patient capital, and we also helped to identify the entrepreneur that we would all partner with here in Africa, and Exxon provided the initial resin.
Nå, da vi ledte efter entreprenører, var der ingen bedre, vi kunne finde på jorden end Anuj Shah fra A to Z manufacturing firmaet. Det er et 40 år gammelt firma, det forstår sig på produktion. Det er gået fra socialistiske Tanzania ind i kapitalistiske Tanzania og fortsat med at blomstre. Det havde omkring 1.000 ansatte, da vi først fandt det. Og så tog Anuj entreprenør-risiciene her i Afrika for at producere en offentlig gode, der blev købt af hjælpeorganisationerne til arbejdet med malaria.
Well, in looking around for entrepreneurs, there was none better that we could find on earth than Anuj Shah, in A to Z manufacturing company. It's a 40-year-old company, it understands manufacturing. It's gone from socialist Tanzania into capitalist Tanzania, and continued to flourish. It had about 1,000 employees when we first found it. And so, Anuj took the entrepreneurial risk here in Africa to produce a public good that was purchased by the aid establishment to work with malaria.
Og det korte af det lange, igen har de været så succesrige. I vores første år, det første net blev færdigt i oktober i 2003. Vi troede, 150.000 net om året var det ultimative mål. I år producerer de nu otte millioner net om året, og de har 5.000 ansatte, 90 procent af hvilke er kvinder, mest ufaglærte. De er på en mission med Sumitomo. Og derfor er de fra et forretningsmæssigt synspunkt for Afrika, og fra et alment sundhedsmæssigt synspunkt, ægte succeser.
And, long story short, again, they've been so successful. In our first year, the first net went off the line in October of 2003. We thought the hitting-it-out-of-the-box number was 150,000 nets a year. This year, they are now producing eight million nets a year, and they employ 5,000 people, 90 percent of whom are women, mostly unskilled. They're in a joint venture with Sumitomo. And so, from an enterprise perspective for Africa, and from a public health perspective, these are real successes.
Men det er kun halvdelen af historien, hvis vi virkelig vil løse fattigdomsproblemer, fordi det ikke er langtidsholdbart. Det er et firma med én stor kunde. Og hvis fugleinfluenzaen rammer, eller verden af en anden grund beslutter, at malaria ikke længere er af høj prioritet, taber alle. Og derfor har Anuj og Acumen talt om at teste den private sektor, fordi antagelsen, som hjælpeorganisationerne har lavet, er, at, ser I, i et land som Tanzania tjener 80 procent af befolkningen mindre end to dollars om dagen. Det koster på produktionsniveau seks dollars at producere disse, og det koster derudover organisationerne yderligere seks dollars at fordele det, så markedsprisen på et frit marked ville være omkring 12 dollars pr. net. Det har de fleste ikke råd til, så lad os give det gratis væk. Og vi sagde, "Altså, der er en anden mulighed. Lad os bruge markedet som det bedste høreapparat, vi har, og forstå, hvilken pris folk ville betale for dette, så de får værdigheden af valg. Vi kan starte med at lave lokal fordeling, og faktisk kan det koste den offentlige sektor meget mindre."
But it's only half the story if we're really looking at solving problems of poverty, because it's not long-term sustainable. It's a company with one big customer. And if avian flu hits, or for any other reason the world decides that malaria is no longer as much of a priority, everybody loses. And so, Anuj and Acumen have been talking about testing the private sector, because the assumption that the aid establishment has made is that, look, in a country like Tanzania, 80 percent of the population makes less than two dollars a day. It costs, at manufacturing point, six dollars to produce these, and it costs the establishment another six dollars to distribute it, so the market price in a free market would be about 12 dollars per net. Most people can't afford that, so let's give it away free. And we said, "Well, there's another option. Let's use the market as the best listening device we have, and understand at what price people would pay for this, so they get the dignity of choice. We can start building local distribution, and actually, it can cost the public sector much less."
Og derfor kom vi med en anden gang tålmodig kapital til A to Z, et lån såvel som et legat, så A to Z kunne lege med prissætning og lytte til markedet, og fandt ud af en række ting. Et, at folk vil betale forskellige priser, men størstedelen af folk vil være med ved en dollar pr. net og foretage en beslutning om at købe det. Og når man lytter til dem, har de også en masse at sige, om hvad de kan lide og hvad de ikke kan lide. Og at nogle af kanalerne, vi troede ville virke, ikke virkede. Men på grund af denne eksperimenteren og gentagelse, der blev gjort mulig, på grund af den tålmodige kapital, har vi nu fundet ud af, at det koster omkring en dollar i den private sektor at fordele, og en dollar at købe nettet. Så altså, fra et taktisk synspunkt, når man starter med markedet, har vi et valg. Vi kan fortsætte med de 12 dollars pr. net, og kunden betaler nul, eller vi kunne i det mindste eksperimentere med noget af det, at kræve en dollar pr. net, lade det koste den offentlige sektor yderligere seks dollars pr. net, give folk værdigheden af valg og have et fordelingssystem, der måske med tiden kan understøtte sig selv.
And so we came in with a second round of patient capital to A to Z, a loan as well as a grant, so that A to Z could play with pricing and listen to the marketplace, and found a number of things. One, that people will pay different prices, but the overwhelming number of people will come forth at one dollar per net and make a decision to buy it. And when you listen to them, they'll also have a lot to say about what they like and what they don't like. And that some of the channels we thought would work didn't work. But because of this experimentation and iteration that was allowed because of the patient capital, we've now found that it costs about a dollar in the private sector to distribute, and a dollar to buy the net. So then, from a policy perspective, when you start with the market, we have a choice. We can continue going along at 12 dollars a net, and the customer pays zero, or we could at least experiment with some of it, to charge one dollar a net, costing the public sector another six dollars a net, give the people the dignity of choice, and have a distribution system that might, over time, start sustaining itself.
Vi er nødt til at starte med at have samtaler som denne, og jeg tror ikke, der er nogen bedre måde at starte end at bruge markedet, men også at bringe andre folk til bordet om det. Uanset hvornår jeg besøger A to Z, tænker jeg på min bedstemor, Stella. Hun var rigtig meget som de kvinder, der sidder bag symaskinerne. Hun voksede op på en farm i Østrig, meget fattig, havde ikke meget uddannelse. Hun flyttede til USA, hvor hun mødte min bedstefar, der var cementtransportør, og de fik ni børn. Tre af dem døde som spæde. Min bedstemor havde tuberkulose, og hun arbejdede i en symaskineforretning og lavede skjorter for omkring 10 cent i timen. Hun, som mange af kvinderne jeg ser på A to Z, arbejdede hårdt hver dag, forstod hvad lidelse var, havde en stærk tro på Gud, elskede sine børn og ville aldrig have accepteret en almisse. Men fordi hun havde markedets muligheder, og hun levede i et samfund, der sørgede for trygheden ved at have adgang til betalelig sundhedsydelser og uddannelse, var hendes børn og deres børn i stand til at leve liv med virkelige formål og følge rigtige drømme.
We've got to start having conversations like this, and I don't think there's any better way to start than using the market, but also to bring other people to the table around it. Whenever I go to visit A to Z, I think of my grandmother, Stella. She was very much like those women sitting behind the sewing machines. She grew up on a farm in Austria, very poor, didn't have very much education. She moved to the United States, where she met my grandfather, who was a cement hauler, and they had nine children. Three of them died as babies. My grandmother had tuberculosis, and she worked in a sewing machine shop, making shirts for about 10 cents an hour. She, like so many of the women I see at A to Z, worked hard every day, understood what suffering was, had a deep faith in God, loved her children and would never have accepted a handout. But because she had the opportunity of the marketplace, and she lived in a society that provided the safety of having access to affordable health and education, her children and their children were able to live lives of real purpose and follow real dreams.
Jeg ser rundt på mine søskende, kusiner og fætre -- og som jeg sagde, der er mange af os -- og jeg ser lærere og musikere, hedge fond ledere, designere. Én søster, der får andre folks ønsker til at gå i opfyldelse. Og mit ønske, når jeg ser de kvinder, jeg møder de landmænd, og jeg tænker på alle de folk på hele kontinentet, der arbejder hårdt hver dag, er, at de har den sans for chance og mulighed, og at de også kan tro på og få adgang til ydelser, så deres børn også kan leve de liv med store formål. Det burde ikke være så svært. Men det, det kræver, er engagement fra os allesammen til virkelig at afslå fortærskede antagelser, komme ud af vores ideologiske kasser. Det kræver investering i de entreprenører, der er engagerede i ydelser så vel som succes. Det kræver, at man åbner sine arme, begge to, vidt åbne, og forventer meget lidt kærlighed igen, men kræver ansvarlighed og også bringer ansvarlighed til bordet. Og allermest, allermest kræver det, at vi allesammen har modet og tålmodigheden, uanset om vi er rige eller fattige, afrikanske eller ikke-afrikanske, lokale eller diasporajøder, venstre eller højre, til virkelig at begynde at lytte til hinanden. Tak. (Bifald)
I look around at my siblings and my cousins -- and as I said, there are a lot of us -- and I see teachers and musicians, hedge fund managers, designers. One sister who makes other people's wishes come true. And my wish, when I see those women, I meet those farmers, and I think about all the people across this continent who are working hard every day, is that they have that sense of opportunity and possibility, and that they also can believe and get access to services, so that their children, too, can live those lives of great purpose. It shouldn't be that difficult. But what it takes is a commitment from all of us to essentially refuse trite assumptions, get out of our ideological boxes. It takes investing in those entrepreneurs that are committed to service as well as to success. It takes opening your arms, both, wide, and expecting very little love in return, but demanding accountability, and bringing the accountability to the table as well. And most of all, most of all, it requires that all of us have the courage and the patience, whether we are rich or poor, African or non-African, local or diaspora, left or right, to really start listening to each other. Thank you. (Applause)