"Hippo - Hurricane - Howler"

Snapshots from Sandy 

'Darkness on the Edge of Town'

'Proceed with Caution'

'Stabbed in the Back'

Continental Synapse

The crenellated castle walls stood crumbing for centuries. The staccato slap of bare feet against stone and the occasional whack of a soccer ball against the once formidable meter thick walls are the only echo of a by gone era of ramparts and rockets.

Jutting out to sea at the very northwest edge of the African continent, the old city— al medina— of Tangier keeps a watchful gaze on the Atlantic Ocean, Mediterranean Sea and its rocky reflection, the Rock of Gibraltar, a mere ten miles to the north.

The byzantine streets, predating the adjective itself, wind deep into the city center without a thought of an escape. Vendor’s stalls, motorbikes, and pedestrians vie for the precious free space offered in the back alleyways. The city swirls with the scents, spices and sophistication of two colliding continents. The population erupts in a cacophony of Arabic, Berber, French and Spanish. As a crossroads of civilizations, commerce and culture compete to be the champion of conversation.

Mint tea, hot and copious, serves as the elixir of life; keeping those who imbibe upright and active. The call to prayer cuts the commotion to silence with a single Allahu Akbar, reminding the faithful of the celestial traverse of the sun and the presence of a higher authority.

In Pursuit of Peace: Mark it on your Calendar

The following photos were selected to grace the cover and the month of March in the 2012 Returned Peace Corps Volunteers International Calendar.

Please click here to view the entire calendar.


PANAMA

The beans, handpicked and slow roasted, are taken from the fire and set in a large wooden bowl to cool. The inescapable aroma of coffee permeates the highlands of tropical Panama. Served strong, dark and sweet, coffee is more than a hot beverage to get the morning started. Offered to all visitors, it is a mark of hospitality, an invitation for intimacy, and the Jimenez family brews an impeccable cup. Here Kayme picks through the cooling beans, adding anise leaves, snatching up the best ones to pop in her mouth. Soon, the beans will be ground, pressed, and shared by all.




MOLDOVA

The afternoon silence is torn by the rolling thunder of wheel on rail as the train trundles into the station in Chisinau, Moldova, the capital of Europe’s poorest country. The locomotive chokes to a stop, towering over the central platform. Patient, a woman waits as the hiss of the diesel engine fades to silence and stillness reclaims the afternoon. Deliberate, she stands and walks purposefully to the train’s door. Slow. Steady. She grabs the handrail, steps up, and boards the train. All are aboard, waiting to depart.

Ice Climbing: Water + Cold + Gravity + Determination

H—O—H.

There it is. This naturally occurring simple sequence is absolutely fundamental to life’s existence. H20. A single oxygen atom covalently (sharing of electrons) bonded to two hydrogen atoms. By all accounts the bond of this crystalline formation is a weak one. What water lacks in bonding strength however, it makes up for in structural stability.

Drop the ambient temperature to zero degrees centigrade and a molecule of H—O—H actually expands— the only known non-metallic substance to do so upon freezing— to form transparent or opaque bluish-white hexagonal crystals. A solid state which is peculiarly less dense than its liquid counterpart.

This process happens daily in the safe confines of your freezer. The ice cube tray is cracked and emptied. An ice-cold beverage is enjoyed. The tap is turned on. The tray refilled and placed delicately back in the freezer. This great transformation from liquid to solid has been tamed for our own consumptive pleasure.

Water into ice. This process also happens daily in the winter wilderness of the great outdoors. Snow melts, water seeps down rock faces, waterfalls flow over cliffs. There comes a point however when the temperature freezes and all motion stops. Running water solidifies in midair.

Brilliant in their hues of blue and white, these ice formations tower above the forest floor like silent sentinels over the winter landscape. From below the view is breathtaking. From the top it is commanding. Stack enough ice cubes on top of one another and suddenly there is a mountain to climb.

On Sunday February 13th, ten New School students, aided by the professional guiding service High-Xposure, donned crampons and helmets, harnessed in and roped up, grabbed a pair of ice picks and climbed their way up 30 feet of sheer ice.

Water’s hydrogen bonds are weak but ice’s overall structure is strong. Strong enough to drive an ice pick through and hold your body weight as you dig your metal spiked boots in and pull yourself up.

Gravity exerts a constant downward force. Determination, if you choose an ever increasing upward one. The sun gleams off the frozen surface, you grit your teeth and smile….

Think of this the next time you reach for an ice-cold beverage…..
New School Recreation Outdoor Education: Leave The Library. Escape The City. Learn For A Lifetime. What Does Your Facebook Status Say…..?
SKI TRIP FEB 25-27. WHITEWATER RAFTING APRIL 16-17. ROCK CLIMBING MAY 7.

Should I Donate To A Microfinance Institution?

The woman’s eyes sparkle at me from underneath her bowler’s hat. She is caught in mid action, hands deep in a mass of corn meal, kneading the day’s batch of tortillas. Her baby sits propped up on her shoulder— like some newborn quiver of potential oblivious to his immediate surroundings— wrapped tightly to her body by a colorful but worn indigenous shawl.

Of course the woman is just a picture –a greeting card really from some microfinance institution— sitting on the table next to all my other opened but unattended mail. Señora Ana Maria Villalba, the microfinance organization declares, in warm cursive script on the inside of the card, has worked her way out of poverty and started this small but thriving tortilla stall with a microfinance loan made possible by donations like yours.

Pledging ten to twenty dollars will help women like Señora Villalba around the globe break the chains of penury and reach the economic and social empowerment they deserve. Villalba’s smile, broad and genuine, and those eyes, dancing in the early morning light, are cultural ambassadors, a spokeswoman of sorts for the forgotten, unrepresented and, according to the microfinance institution, ‘unbanked.’

Ten …. Twenty bucks? That’s all it will take to help this enterprising woman in some far off land. It’s the price of a movie ticket and some popcorn, a down payment on a Sunday brunch in a trendy café in Brooklyn, an ill advised late night taxi ride to a bar I have no business being at.

What the hell,…twenty buck in NYC is gone in a flash anyway. Spent on some instantly forgotten consumption. At least this is a conscious act. Something I can feel good about. The money will be going to her. Señora Villalba and those like just you, Espera…. I am coming to help.

But hold on just a moment, who is this Señora Ana Maria Villalba, and more to the point, who is this microfinance organization that is purporting to help her? Where is my money really going? I hesitate and palm my twenty dollar bill back into my pocket. I’m torn; should I donate to this microfinance institution or not….. ?


YES. According to Matt Flannery, the Co-founder and CEO of Kiva, an online lending platform which has facilitated over $100 million in microfinance loans since its inception in 2005, making small, private donations to microfinance institutions (MFIs) “allows individuals in the developed world to loan to small business people in the developing world.” The Kiva website explains that “by combining microfinance with the internet, Kiva is creating a global community through lending.” Whether donating online through a ‘microfund’ intermediary such as Kiva or directly to a microfinance institution such as FINCA International, ACCION International or any other smaller microfinance program, the end goal of making small, individual, private donations to MFIs is the same: to empower the working poor by providing access to credit.

In its 2006 “Good Practice Guidelines for Funders of Microfinance” CGAP, the World Bank’s Consultative Group to Assist the Poor, declares that the “microlevel is the backbone of any financial system” and thus the “role of donors and investors is to strengthen financial service providers to achieve financial sustainability –which is essential to reach significant numbers of poor people and to realize long-term social returns— support experimentation, and provide capital to expand the reach of retail financial institutions when the supply of commercial financing is limited.” Indeed, all MFIs pursue multiple avenues of funding, from international official sector grants to loan financing to private donations in order to meet their financial and social empowerment objectives. However, it is the private donations to MFIs that allow lenders to create a human connection with their borrowers and have a direct impact on their lives.

Specifically, private donations to microfinance programs enable MFIs to offer a wide range of financial services —access to credit, savings vehicles, insurance policies– to poor people that were hither to deemed “unbankable” due to their lack of assets and ability to repay their loans. In addition, the capital raised from private donations, plays a vital role in building capacity in both the lending institutions and borrowing clients, where the presence of robust, financially sustainable MFIs can help to facilitate the transition of microfinance services away from informal lending and towards a nation’s formal financial system. Finally, private donations provide an important source of funding for MFIs to cover transaction costs associated with loaning to the working poor. With operating costs covered, MFIs can maintain lower interest rate premiums and thus be able to extend credit to more individuals, particularly women and the extreme poor.

In effect, while a single, private donation can have a positive, direct impact on an individual’s livelihood by providing much needed credit access to start a small business or invest in a child’s education, the aggregate amount of yearly private donations, can help catalyze a much greater cycle of systemic, economic generation throughout the entire community. According to CERISE, a knowledge exchange network for microfinance practitioners, although the relationship between social and financial performance in microfinance has been much debated, their assessment of the ‘Social Performance Indicators’ of 230 MFIs since 2002 confirms that in fact “social performance and financial performance are compatible.” Specifically, although “targeting the poor clearly implies higher costs for MFIs, other aspects of social performance —participatory models, well-adapted loan technologies and social responsibility— are positively correlated with good operational and financial performance.” In effect, microfinance goes beyond the traditional notion of social responsibility –“do no harm”— and has a genuine and attainable mandate to “do good.”

Thus, donating to a microfinance institution has the dual benefit of economically empowering and improving the social well being of the borrowing client. A small, individual donation has the power to attain the important double bottom line of financial sustainability and positive social impact. Kiva concludes that private donations to microfinance programs connect people, create relationships beyond financial transactions and build a “global community expressing support and encouragement of one another.” Ultimately, donating to a MFI is not some faceless onetime act of charity, but rather a “person to person lending” strategy that empowers lender and borrower alike and has a tremendous multiplier effect on the financial, economic and social realities of the lives it touches. In this regard, making a donation to a microfinance institution is the most versatile and impactful way to invigorate the development process and address the devastating effects of poverty.

NO. In “Microfinance Misses Its Mark,” Karnani (2007) warns that “we should not romanticize the poor as entrepreneurs” and thus overstate the effectiveness of microfinance. Karnani contends that “in fact, most microcredit clients are not microentrepreurs by choice but would gladly take a factory job at reasonable wages if it were available.” Put into context, this statement speaks to a broader argument about the limited utility of microfinance vis-à-vis other alternative methods –namely investing in social, education and health services— to lift people out of poverty and ignite sustainable economic growth. Microfinance is not a cure all, and, according to Rosenberg (2010) in “Does Microcredit Really Help Poor People?,” microfinance’s success in expanding the income, consumption and the health, education and social empowerment of its borrowers is mostly anecdotal. There is no clear evidence to show that the hundreds of millions of microfinance clients throughout the developing world actually realize microfinance’s purported goals of economic and social empower. In sum, making a private donation to a microfinance institution (MFI) is neither an effective nor an efficient way to alleviate poverty or to empower people. Private donors and poor borrowers alike would be better served if donations were channeled to more fundamentally systemic development and poverty reduction schemes such as improved educational systems and job creation.
In itself, the reality of direct person-to-person lending which MFIs promote when soliciting private donations is dubious at best and raises transparency and accountability issues. Testimonials of why individuals from the developed world decide to donate are paired next to photographs of enterprising individuals from the developing world who have used their newfound line of credit to improve their lot. However, the question must be asked whether or not a donor’s contribution actually goes to the stated projects and people shown on the website. In the words of Kiva’s own Co-founder and CEO Mathew Flannery, there exists an “historic tension between the donor/lender desire to ‘know where my money goes’ and the recipient organization’s need for efficiency.” Private donations frequently end up ‘backstopping’ a MFI’s overhead costs. Although this is essential to a MFI’s operation, this is not the stated reasons for soliciting private donations. More than a case of “donor beware,” this is an issue for full disclosure.

Often times, microfinance is touted as the key to unlock the potential of the poor: with access to credit, the working poor will unleash an entrepreneurial spirit that will lead to economic engagement, personal prosperity and community cohesion. Karnani (2007) argues however that “the vast majority of microcredit clients are stuck in subsistence activities where a lack of skills, vision, creativity and persistence to be entrepreneurs” ultimately causes their microenterprises to fail. Investment in education, job creation and improvements in labor productivity is a better way to create long-term success. Moreover, there is a darker side to microfinance that must be given due consideration. Credit, no matter how ‘micro’ or well intentioned, is still a form of debt. For the donor, the private monetary donation may be viewed as a one-time act with no intention for repayment or return on investment. For the borrower however, no matter how poor she is, once the loan is taken out, the principle of the loan plus interest must always be repaid. This is finance, not charity.

In addition, the formal, rigid requirements of group lending or intense communal peer pressure that microfinance uses to ensure timely loan repayment can trap borrowers in a state of ‘loan recycling’ where new loans are taken out to repay outstanding ones. Rather than empowerment, microfinance has caused further economic indebtedness. Finally, although contrary to its intentions, microfinance can actually disempower women. Female borrowers may be granted access to credit but it is their husbands who retain control of the loans.

Beyond microfinance’s stated but frequently unmet empowerment goals, there are two economic realities that often go overlooked. (1) Donor driven external funding is intrinsically unsustainable. It is highly susceptible to donor fatigue and exogenous shocks which could shift donor attention away from their microfinance pledges (i.e. the call for donations after a devastating natural disaster). Rather than rely on private donations, MFIs should seek financial self-sustainability through strategic government subsidies or for profit business models. (2) The quintessential microfinance success story is one of a woman taking out a small microfinance loan to buy a sewing machine. From there she embroiders her way out of poverty. However, what happens if her sewing machine is stolen or damaged? Her engine of income generation is gone, yet her loan remains. In short, there is real risk associated with microfinance lending and borrowing. In comparison, investment in education, particularly literacy, produces fully transferable, lifelong skills that cannot be stolen.

Although microfinance can play a strategic role in extending credit to those without and thus help develop a formal system of financial services, it is not the appropriate tool to generate broadly felt, reliable economic growth across the community that it claims to be. When deciding to make a private donation, do not donate with the intention to lend but rather donate with the intention to promote and to invest in social services. Education not credit. Employment not credit. To address the root causes of poverty, private donations geared towards these indispensable services will provide a far greater return on investment than a small microfinance loan ever could.

Señora Ana Maria Villalba, I am now well informed yet still indecisive….
The promise and mechanics of microfinance seem sound, but the risks are all too real. I would love to pull up a stool in you your stall, buy a tortilla or two as you pluck them off the skillet and talk it over. But here I am thousands of miles away forced to make a decision.

ORIENTEERING ORIENTATION

It is the early 15th century. The august figure of Prince Henry the Navigator of Portugal stands silently on the shores of the Algarve Coast. With scores of cartographers at his employ and shipwrights at his command, he is caught in the final moment of reflection which immediately precedes action. The cliffs fall away to the ocean beneath him. His gaze remains transfixed on the ships out to sea. Caravels –ships of his own design— bob rhythmically in line awaiting their instructions. Shallow keeled and equipped with lateen sails, these newly constructed vessels possess the ability to sail into the wind.

Over the next century, these ships will venture far down the African coast and eventually out across the Atlantic. With expectations high, Prince Henry raises his hand and grants permission to set sail on the journeys that will redefine the world.

The sextant, celestial navigation, even the ability to fix longitude and without question a system of global positioning all will come later, much later. Equipped with only an intrepid spirit of exploration and the art of dead reckoning, these Portuguese explorers must place their trust in a compass –an instrument crafted centuries before by the Chinese— to find their way there and back.

Fast forward five hundred years and modern urban explorers tend to whip out a smart phone and effortlessly lock in their GPS coordinates. A simple “Get Directions” click and they are on their way, weaving through cross town traffic, down the shoots of the NY C subway system and springing up once more in parts unknown.

Transporting themselves to and fro from one side of the metropolis to the other, most New York City inhabitants no longer give much thought to the hows of their navigational prowess. Instead, when the delightful British accented voice speaks up with timely advice to turn right, these stylish denizens of urban living follow suit without question or concern.
Much akin to the University’s storied past however; New School Recreation travels countercurrent.

On Sunday afternoon, with cell phones silenced and ‘smartness’ returned to the naturally endowed variety an unassuming band of students traveled to Muttontown, Long Island to test their navigational skills. A straight shot out the Long Island Expressway, Muttontown, the name itself a holdover from the colonial era of exploration, was site to the Long Island Orienteering Club’s Orienteering Meet.

Under a canopy of sun struck yellow leaves dappled with flares of red and strokes of orange, the New School students learn to orient a map and read a compass. Working in teams of two, each student is tasked with finding a series of orienteering controls --kite like objects hidden in the wood—in the shortest time possible. Whether by trail or rough shod through the wilderness terrain, the mission is to seek out and find, to search and discover. Lost. Hidden. A Needle in a hay stack. These are relative terms. Compass in hand, map at the ready, quick wits about them: this first group of New School Orienteerers have become the newest reincarnates of the millennia old tradition of exploration.

Prince Henry the Navigator watches intently until the ships disappear over the horizon line. His expression softens and he permits a smile. There is hope on the horizon.

For us however, as the magnetic pull of the Earth spins the compass needle gently northward and life’s journeys begin to intertwine with its destinations, in which direction does your compass point?

A DANDY OF A DAY HIKE

Sunday, November 7 Bear Mountain State Park

With the sun warm and bright, the air crisp and cold and not a cloud in the sky, New School Recreation struck out for a Sunday afternoon hike.

Hiking on Sunday? Absolutely. Stealing a day back from a weekend shortened by school work; our New School hiking expedition ventured north to Bear Mountain State Park. Fifty miles beyond the city limits along the Palisades Parkway, Bear Mountain State Park commands the high ground above the mighty Hudson River.

Fording streams and navigating boulder fields, we tramped, glided and danced our way under the deciduous canopy caught in its annual moment of autumnal explosion. Reaching the summit of West Mountain, we ran the ridge and drank in the views of the vast expanse of forest cover on fire with autumn’s finest palette strokes, the broad views of the august and meandering Hudson River and in the distance, on the horizon, the great pillars of urban progress: the New York City skyline.

The smell of smoke titillated the nose –conjuring up nostalgic moments of bygone adventures— the late day sun sparkled the eye and the westerly wind chapped the checks. The elements although challenging, created the environment to put a song in our hearts and a smile on our face. Do tell, pray tell? As the clocks roll back and darkness settles in for the long winter months, will you get outside before the last autumn leaf falls to the ground?

The 'GUNKS

Commitment Problems…
"Come Work Them Out With Us”

October 23, 2010: On an exquisite autumn day, alive with the sky’s deep celestial blues and the yellows, oranges and red fires of fall foliage, eight intrepid New School students ventured out to one of the East Coast’s premier climbing meccas, The ‘Gunks, for The New School’s first ever Rock Climbing Trip. A balanced blend of seasoned climbers and some new to the sport, our New School group hooked up with the climbing outfitter, High-Xposure, to began our vertical adventure. Climbing a mix of challenging routes–some over 80 feet tall–each climber tested their physical strength, mental fortitude and commitment to climb.

Learning to read the rock face and trust their fingers as they climbed upward, each climber pushed beyond their comfort zones to reach new heights. From the warmth of mid-morning to the last lingering lights of dusk, we climbed to our hearts’ content.
Returning through undulating corn fields illuminated by the natural glow of a rising moon to the City’s bright lights, our group was tired, but content, challenged but confident.

The Great Sultan Was Furious

The Great Sultan was furious. Fuming he paced deliberately back and forth across the centuries old mosaic pathway tucked deep within the inner sanctum of his private residency.

Ringing his hands and rubbing his chin as if to wash his frustration away, his body was rigid and his jaw tense.

Although his thoughts were varied and subtle, his emotion rendered his articulation simplistic, almost elementary.

“There was No Time. No Time At All,” he stammered.
Talking to himself as he had long since silenced and dismissed his closest and most trusted advisors. But he was desirous to reprimand the world, the forces of present circumstance, this newfound reality in which he had found himself. He was determined to be heard.

His steps along the pathway became more deliberate and volatile with each passing moment. Every motion a jab or a kick at an unforeseen enemy either past or present.

“No time,” he snarled with increasing volume and conviction.

The impeccably manicured courtyard said nothing in response. The tiles of the great mosaic held their ground beneath his feet and kept their silence.

The Chamber of Council as the courtyard had come to be known in backroom parlance had witnessed this spectacle before. The arguments and events forever remained the same: obtuse and oblivious to the tides of power. Only the main character changed. The perceived lead role. The so-called head of state, ruler of unforeseen horizons. The true political marionette if the truth be told. The one destined, doomed, to pace the mosaic maze.

And change, change he did. Swifter than one would think.

“No Time!” the Great Sultan erupted. The echo of his words reverberated through the covered colonnade. “No time to marshal the forces, recoup the advantage, to mount a counter attack…” his words trailed off. But thoughts of an emperor, well, they never cease.

Reaching the edge of the walkway, he stopped, turned and kicked a loose tile from its inlaid dwelling. The kick was forceful and altogether damning. The tile, hand crafted and set in place in a long forgotten age, was abruptly propelled into an awkward arc of motion.

Centuries of perfection dislodged with a spiteful strike. Years of shaded symmetry upset due to the ill-tempered nature of a self-professed king.

As the tile skid across the worn and uneven surface, tink, tink, tink, the Great Sultan’s comportment changed. Anger subsided, overtaken by a fiercer sense of urgency. An urgency that coupled together an uneasy mixture of fear and realization. Deep within the emperor’s own heart and mind, there was a growing comprehension of the shortcomings of his design.

The Great Sultan stood stock-still. The tile had come to rest upon pieces of similar style. Imperceptible to the naked, unobservant eye but fixed upon intently by the author of its destruction, the tile remained motionless. Silent and pathetic, there it sat, an outcast and orphan.

The Sultan snapped to and glanced down toward the tiny but seemingly infinite black hole that he had just created. A man made ripple, a deliberate imperfection, punched into the serene mosaic sea.

“A single year,” He changed his invective, examining the dark cavity more closely. The rebounding echoes off the burnished tile the only thing to take notice.

The hole stared back at him with the constancy of death. A chink in the armor, a hole in his woven masterpiece of power he could not help but ponder.

In a single year he had risen like a storm out of the west. Seizing the imagination of peasants and princes alike, cities and countries.

Like a bolt of lightning followed by a torrential rain upon a scorched and barren earth thirsting for change, he moved swiftly into power. The timing was his and he would fulfill the mandate.

A single year he had reached out with open arms to enemies and allies.
Only to discover that now, after the crushing and unexpected defeat of a far-flung vassal state, his own hands were tied.

His adversaries, by no means worthy or even indefatigable, had cut to the chase and curtailed his maneuvers. The stage was set for action, he ruminated, grand action. But the fire had gone out before it could catch.

The Great Sultan’s eyes smoldered with intensity. The choice was before him.

To yield to a chastened form of governance or to yoke the discordant, dissident factions under a single degree of discipline.

To resign to compromise and cooperation or to reign mightily in the face of opposition and adversity.

No Time. There was no time for further thought. The Great Sultan stomped deliberately on that unblinking black hole and strode forcefully out of the courtyard across the variegated tiled walkway.

The mosaic remained silent but diminished. Another piece was no longer interlocked in its original place. The luster of it kiln fired glaze covered once more with the dust, grit and grim of the footsteps of ephemeral emotion, power, want and desire.

“The Mall of Missteps,” the tiles sighed as day gave way to twilight.