Learning to Swim - Back in Brazil

I’ve been very happy with how far my Portuguese has come, especially after having been gone from Brazil for so long, yet my ability to communicate here is like being able to swim in a gentle sea, quando as coisas estão tranquilas, tudo bom! (When things are calm, all is good!) But while sitting in on CatComm’s open forum, a meeting for feedback from community partners and constituents, I experienced a very different world of linguistic aquatics; visualize the crashing waves at Ipanema, Brazil’s most famous of beaches, where the people are beautiful but the weak stay out of the water.
Last night, a dozen of us met inside the Casa do Gestor Catalisador, CatComm’s home and technology hub in Rio, located on the edge of the downtown, in a historic district by the bay and the center of the old slave trade. Around us on the Casa walls, on mounted wood or printed t-shirts, hung windows into the world of the favelas, the works of Brazilian photographer Maurício Hora, a man with an incredible capacity to capture the spirit of place on film. Maurício sat to my left, Theresa to my right, the rest were spread out in a circle around the room, community leaders and artists, passionate Brazilians all; not quite what my beach and bar Portuguese had prepared me for.
It wasn’t so bad at first, when Theresa began speaking I was able to follow along, she had prepped me before hand (in English) about the proposal she would present, about CatComm’s new strategy for partners and growth. Muito tranquilo. However once people started responding, once bodies leaned forward and hands started churning, my bearings slipped out from under me and the sea became choppy. At times I would grasp the topic of the conversation and understand its flow, but then just as suddenly a new wave of words, sounds, and Brazilian passion would descend upon me, and my head would be plunged into the deep, tumbling out of control and comprehension lost, finally clawing my way to the surface only to think “Meu Deus, como a gente veio pra cá” “How the heck did we end up here?”
The Brazilian love of talking on top of one another means a whole different set of cultural cues apply here, how do you tell if someone is staying civil and respectful, how do you tell what is a constructive conflict and what is not? Brazilians are a passionate people and many debate with animation and emotion, loudly at times, which are all traits that I can relate well to. How many times in Kenya did it appear that Erik and I were about to come to blows, when in fact, we were only just getting warmed up?
However it’s clear that for us to do Protocol work here, guiding a creative collision of world-views, will require a lot of preparation, both in our language and in our ability to train and support other people. The language barrier makes proactive leadership absolutely necessary. I can continue to improve my Portuguese, but the only effective way forward is to make sure that more appropriate people know what they’re doing and supporting them, there’s no other choice. Which, if you think about it, is really the only way our work in the Base of the Pyramid can come alive, working with others, training new people, supporting them, and then to some degree, letting go. It’s hard to imagine us doing here exactly what we did in Kenya: Erik, and I directly facilitating exercises and discussions. Here we would have to plan for miscommunication, slow down for better understanding. Though in truth we did not always understand what was going on in Kenya either, our Kiswahili was worse than my Portuguese, and patience was always key.
It’s funny to think about what has become one the defining aspects of my life, the constant search for uncomfortable situations and new things to be ignorant about. There’s something a little crazy about that, something a little strange about someone who has to go so far from what he knows to find meaningful work, to feel content yet not comfortable. I suppose it’s all a search for meaning and growth and as Erik loves to say, “If what you’re doing feels comfortable, then you’re probably not doing something new!” Optimal ignorance is another phrase we love to throw around: optimal is when you know enough to be respectful, but not enough to know what is impossible. You’re able to do things in someone else’s backyard that you could never do in your own. You just don’t know enough not to try. A clueless gringo has his uses after all, but at the very least he does need to learn to keep his head above the water.
Time to go swimming again.
***
Notes for the unfamiliar:
- Theresa -> Theresa Williamson, founder and executive director of Catalytic Communities
- CatComm -> Catalytic Communities, an amazing organization in Rio that provides spaces for community leaders to meet and exchange ideas, both physical spaces (the Casa) and virtual spaces (http://www.CatComm.org), inpsiring and empowering a global network of community leaders and solutions.
- Favela -> a Brazilian slum or shanty town, the word’s origins are from a particular slum in Rio, the first, historically known as Morro da Favela, but today known as Morro do Providência, where photographer Maurício Hora was born and raised. To view Maurício’s work visit http://www.favelarte.com/ An exposition of Maurício’s work is currently on display at CatComm’s Casa in Rio.
- Erik -> Erik Simanis, Co-Director of the Base of the Pyramid Protocol and team leader of the Protocol pilot team in Kenya
- Protocol -> Base of the Pyramid Protocol, a process by which multinational companies can engage poor communities to form new partnerships and to co-create new business opportunities for the communities and the company. For more on the protocol and pilot see http://www.bop-protocol.org and http://www.BRINQ.com/kenya/
- Me -> Patrick Donohue, a recovering computer scientist and MBA, refugee from the rapid to riches dot-com culture, and member of the BoP Protocol pilot test in Kenya; in Brazil to write a case study of Catalytic Communities and to practice swimming in Portuguese.
There’s nothing like a room full of blank stares to tell you that you have just used the wrong word, nobody there knows what you’re talking about and you need to adapt, but what do you do when that word is at the heart of what you do? When that glazed-eye-inducing offender is printed all over your business cards?
Erik, Kabi, Edwin and I are in a meeting hall in Kibera, a shanty town in Nairobi, Kenya which, with an estimated one million people, is one of Africa’s, if not the world’s, largest slums. We’re running the second of four community engagement workshops in which we are preparing local community groups, entrepreneurs and social enterprises, on how to best approach and prepare for a partnership with multinational companies; in this case, how to partner with our main corporate sponsor, SC Johnson. This is what we do, we bring people from diverse backgrounds and with diverse resources together, “a creative collision of world views”, to create new market opportunities for multinationals and locally grown businesses for poor communities via a process of “mutual value creation”. Buzz phrase laden work, yes, but it’s actually all been going quite well so far, except that now our community partners are stuck on our name. Behind us, on a brown flip chart taped to the wall, is drawn a large three sided figure, a triangle really, with the words
“Yes!” we say with a smile, thankful for a local translation, “The pyramid is like a samosa! The rich people are up top, that’s where most companies traditionally focus, but down below here in the base are some 4 billion people, a whole world that’s been…”
There’s another hand up in the air now. “Tafadhali”, we prompt, “please.”
“Why should people at the top of the samosa get everything,” one man asks, “when all the meat is at the bottom?” There are a few murmurs of agreement from the crowd, so the man continues, “And why a samosa? A chapati would be better, that way everyone is the same!” This time there are cheers. A chapati is a flat round fried bread, kind of like an Indian version of a Mexican tortilla, and like samosas, chapatis can be found fresh and hot all throughout Kibera. I love chapati, but I’m too much of a free market fan to buy into the idea of it as a symbol of world commerce, nor do I think it’s an accurate representation of how the world really is.
Another man speaks up, “Can’t we just turn the samosa upside down?”
“Upside down?”
“Yes,” he explains, “turn it upside down, then all the rich people are on the bottom and we can force them up to the top!”
“I’ve been wondering,” Salim Mohamed asks me one day, “What do you think of the phrase, Base of the Pyramid?” The question is asked in a way that doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence in the chosen descriptor for our work. Salim is the program manager for
“My God,” we hear so often, “how can these people get by on less than a dollar a day?” It’s a fair question, an important one even, but it needs to be asked in a way where you expect, and are willing to accept, an answer, i.e. this is how they do it. It’s too quick to say that a dollar a day is too little, and even quicker to just say that the answer is more dollars sent from afar, or even more dollars generated locally. Look at
Raising income is critical in the Base of the Pyramid, but here in Kenya we’re discovering that income alone won’t create the change we seek: to improve the quality of people’s lives and to create sustainable markets for economic growth. There are other issues that need to be wrestled with, intimately, closely, patiently, while we also seek to raise incomes. Base of the Pyramid may be an income based classification, it may be how we describe what we do, but it need not be our sole focus, we don’t need to be defined by what we call our work, because rich or poor, who really wants to be defined just by how much money you make? Besides, if we define our pyramid differently, say on strength of community, on how many of your neighbors you know, or on the size of children’s smiles, who might be in the Base of the Samosa then?
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But think about Henry Ford and answer this, which would you rather be in a conversation, the ignorant or the expert?
Where should you look for the unexpected? Try finding a different world view.
Which brings me to an important lesson. The keynote speaker at the event was Glenn Stearns, 39 year-old entrepreneur, owner of 26 companies, and real life millionaire (who recently played and won as the millionaire on the Real Gilligan’s Island reality show). He was not a great public speaker but his speech was fantastic. Glenn barely made it through college with 2.14 GPA, but now has a net worth of $500 million. That’s half a billion dollars. A lot of money. 




