Global Conversation

Singurisha! This word (Kinyarwanda for "I am not for sale"), which is stamped across the back of my new t-shirt and billboards across the country, is the slogan of Rwanda's new HIV/AIDS public awareness campaign. The ads encourage young Rwandans to say no to the "Shuga Mamis" and "Shuga Dadis," older Rwandans who offer money to members of the younger generation for a little company. It is a strange campaign that is taking on the challenge of changing the behavior of an entire population. The HIV/AIDS pandemic has debilitated much of the workforce in many African nations, and the Rwandan government knows that the spread of the disease is not just a social issue, but an economic drain. It is often difficult to strike a balance between dealing with the social issues and the economic issues, as I learned when I visited Komera last week. Nested within a rural farming village, Komera is a small cooperative of about 50 HIV+ individuals. The ride out is not easy - our 4X4 got stuck more than once on the hilly terrain. As soon as we arrived and started walking around, I discovered that my $8 sandals were pretty inadequate (should have brought my hiking boots to Rwanda...). After falling into an irrigation ditch and potentially contracting schistosomiasis, I made it to the centerpiece of the co-op, which (for lack of a better  description) is a large wooden apartment building for rabbits. With some financial help from GHI in the form of a microloan, the co-op members were able to build this structure to raise and breed the animals. Rabbits are a great source of meat for small-scale farmers. When fed with greens, a single female can give birth to four litters per year, with up to about eight kits per litter (for all of my friends studying humanities, that's 32 bunnies every year). And that's just from one rabbit. A six-month-old rabbit has about twice the meat of a six-month-old chicken, making it a fantastic protein source for those who need it the most. The ingenious part of the whole plan was that the structure was built directly on top of a small tilapia-stocked pond. The rabbit wastes are allowed to fall right through the wire-mesh floor and fertilize the pond, creating a healthier environment for the fish. Now here's where the tricky bit begins. Given the pressure co-ops have on them to repay our microloans (given for seed, livestock, fertilizer, special projects, etc.), how much of the produce should they sell, and how much should they keep for their members? It's not an easy question to answer, and so far, the burden of decision making has fallen on the co-op presidents. In Komera, the tilapia harvest is split 50-50 between the co-op and the market, and the rabbits are generally reserved for the sickest members (fifteen of the members are so sick that they don't have the physical capacity to work the fields). In another cooperative I visited, 90% of the produce was sold. In the long term, selling more produce may be better in order to buy more inputs to increase the next season's yield. But HIV is a ticking time bomb, so to what degree should they even think long-term? The more I talk with different people, the more I learn about the complexities and nuances surrounding the issue.