Winds of Peace Foundation

Steve Sheppard | May 18, 2012

I mentioned here a while back that a portion of my recent visit in Nicaragua had been focused on the education initiative which Winds of Peace started last year.  Our agenda for the week permitted a lengthy visit to Roberto Clemente School in Ciudad Sandino, a 1400 student house of joy.  The school is one operated by Fe y Alegria, one of WPF’s partners in working on the education initiative.  By the end of our tour and conversations, it was very clear that the students weren’t the only ones getting schooled that day.  My own education became elevated that day in ways that I had not expected.

If I tell you that Nicaragua’s statistics on education reflect poor progress, that the average student only receives about five years of classroom participation, that a third of students don’t make it out of primary school, that the country dedicates only 3% of GDP to education funding (when 10% is considered the minimum necessary), that of the kids who start first grade only half will reach grade five, then you might reach the reasonable conclusion that Nica schools leave a lot to be desired.  But you’d only be partially correct, because the presence of Roberto Clemente School belies the truth of an educational system in dire need.

My education on tour day included the expected elements:  accompaniment by Leslie Gomez from Fe y Alegria, meeting Berta Vasquez, Director General ofthe school who seemed to know the name of every child there, a walk-around of the premises, peeking into classrooms, observing kids between classes, in a few instances actually visiting with some of the students, and generally being conspicuous amidst a sea of uniformed scholars.  It’s an experience that I’ve had previously, in U.S. schools, so I thought that I knew what to expect in terms of the pupils’ behaviors, demeanors, sounds and interactions with me.  It turns out that I was quite wrong.

First, I noted the sounds of the school.  An open courtyard surrounded by classrooms may have amplified what I heard, but there was no mistaking the nature of the noise: I can only characterize it as joyful, vibrant, excited.

And I’m not talking about the pre-school classrooms, where one might expect little kids to be having fun because they don’t yet recognize what they may eventually come to regard as the drudgery of school.  I’m including the classrooms of the middle and upper-age students, high schoolers whose Western peers frequently exude sardonic sarcasm and languid disaffection about their

time in the academy.  Here, though, only pride and school “ownership” were on display.  Everywhere we went, in each of the classrooms, the buzzing of true, energetic fun sounded all around the building; it is not a sound that can easily be faked, and the attentive faces behind the sounds attested to its reality.

Then there was the look and content of the classrooms themselves.  The uniforms which the students wear created a sense of organization in each class, uniformity that suggested the responsibility that each young person owed to the others; no visual outliers, no fashion statements here.  The walls reflected the learning being done, with bright colors and lessons and children’s names to be seen everywhere, tangible statements of “I can.”  Absent were the trappings of technology and modern distraction.  What mattered on these walls and in these rooms were the outputs of the kids.  The computers and the electronics were all housed elsewhere, and for another time of the day.

Despite what might be viewed as regimentation at the school, there is a large waiting list of families desiring for their children to attend; kids really want to be at this school.  There is also a cost for attending, as students have to cover the cost of their uniforms and some materials consumed.  Many families simply cannot afford the 80 Cordobas ($3.43) per month that is required for attending.   I was pleased to learn that the financial assistance provided by Winds of Peace via Fe y Alegria had covered scholarships for 68 students.  Wow!

When we dared to interrupt and enter several of the classrooms, the reactions were consistently stirring. Each time, the several dozen students rose to attention beside their desks, as if on cue, and the smiles directed at their visitors unequivocally affirmed the sounds and the sights described above.  I know the energy and vitality that young kids breathe into life (I’ve raised four of my own!), yet the impact of the collective energyand enthusiasm in these studentsstruck me in a way quite different from other school visits I’ve  had.  At one classroom stop we were privileged to meet William, the president of the school student body.  The conversation was eye-to-eye anddirect; he displayed great self-confidence in describing his responsibilities and his charge of leadership and role modeling.  As I stood transfixed by this young man’s bearing, the vice-president of the student body, Debora, emerged from the classroom to introduce herself and respond to more of our questions.

During the whole of our discussion, not once did I see a dropped gaze or a self-conscious stare at the ground.  By the time the third member of this student leadership trio, Danny, joined our impromptu lesson on student government, I had become completely disarmed by the poise and self-assurance being cultivated among the members of this school.  And as if to accentuate the fact thatour interaction had not been only for show, each of the three took my own notebook and entered their respective e-mail addresses and Facebook connections as a means for continued conversation.  I was as impressed and impacted as I could possibly have been.

As if this entire excursion had not amazed me beyond my expectations for the morning, as I approached the truck to depart I had the lovely encounter with little Yareli, described in my blog here of May 5.  Her sweet “blessing” was icing on a cake of immense meaning and proportion, and a treat that will stay with me, likely, forever.

If the state of education in Nicaragua is truly needy (and it is), such need is not comprised of youth who are without motivation or inherent capacities.  A short visit to Roberto Clemente School will quickly disabuse any skeptic of that notion.  Rather, the deficit is one caused by a lack of priority and discipline in facing the future needs of an entire nation.  In short, it’s the adults who are failing in the classrooms, in favor of other perceived primacies that are shorter-term and supported by louder lobbies.  As a result, the beautiful music of students having the opportunity to embrace the ownership of their own futures plays much too infrequently and softly.

Leaving the school grounds, students waved at us.  I remember mentally thanking Louise Nielsen for her special concern for kids and their education and for the work that we now do in this field in her name….

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Tags: Children, Education in Nicaragua, Louise Nielsen

Steve Sheppard | May 5, 2012

There are certain moments in our experiences that become a sort of “freeze frame” of reference, an event or an exchange that transcends the moment and suddenly represents something bigger, more meaningful.  I’ve been privileged to experience more than my share of such moments in Nicaragua over the past seven years, but none were more sudden, more memorable than the encounter last week with an angel.

Mark Lester and I were given the opportunity to visit the Roberto Clemente School in Ciudad Sandino, operated by the education entity Fe y Alegria.  Through its Louise V. Nielsen initiative, Winds of Peace has provided funding for a number of key education organizations in Nicaragua, one of which is this organization founded by Father Fernando Cardenal, himself an education force in Nicaragua’s history.  This particular school serves some 1400 students, from pre-school scholars through high school.  (I’ll have more to report about that visit in upcoming blog entries.)  Suffice it to say that the hour and-a-half visit was exciting, energizing, motivating, moving and hopeful. In short, everything one might hope to experience amidst a large group of youth.

When the tour of the school was finished and the conversations with several student leaders had been done, time had come for Mark and me to take to the road again, on our way north to Esteli.  We made our way across campus, accompanied by Leslie Gomez, Director of Programs and Projects for Fe y Alegria and our liaison for the visit.  By the time we approached the truck, my head was already filled with recollections, of bright classrooms and joyful sounds (that’s right, I said joyful!), of faces evident with curiosity and welcome, of teachers beaming with pride to present their classrooms to visitors.  Lost in such visions, as I grabbed for the door of the truck I felt a tug on the back of my shirt.

When I turned around, I needed to adjust my gaze down, way down, to look at the tiny person standing before me.  She could not have been more than six years old.  The shy smile on her face gave her an angelic look that instantly touched my heart.  And she offered up her two hands pressed together, as if in a prayer, seeking some reciprocation from me that I could not immediately discern.  All I could do was to look at her and smile.

“It’s a type of greeting, or blessing,” explained Leslie, “just put your hands together over hers to return the good wishes.”  My own hands engulfed the fragile hands before me and I gratefully embraced her tiny offering.  My response brought an enormous smile to Yareli who seemed to want nothing more than to create an indelible moment in my day.  I might even go so far as to suggest that her gift created a lasting moment in my life.  Such was the surge of affection that I felt for this little jewel who had come out of nowhere to shine a bright light on my day.  She granted me one quick photo and then she wandered off, likely in search of another unsuspecting subject to bless and entrance.  Do angels actually come among us in that size?  I asked her for her name and she replied, “Yareli.”

Well, there’s nothing else to say about the episode.  Like an apparition, Yareli came to me and disappeared within the span of minutes.  By the time I was back in the truck, I actually wondered whether the encounter had really happened, so fast and so touching was the connection.   But that adorable face was fortunately captured forever in my camera; I looked back at the picture on several occasions during the balance of my week, just to bring a smile back to my feelings.  Sharing it with you here is a pleasure I offer with this one additional reflection:

Children are born of biological parents and step into a line of genealogy which, in part, helps to define who they are and where they come from.  Sometimes the continuum also shapes where they are headed and who they will become.  But in a major way, children are also universal beings who belong to us all. We may not have biological connections to every one of them, but we do share emotional ties and responsibilities to each.  We do have an impact on others, whether intended or not.  Yareli reached out and affirmed that feeling in me, just as 22 years ago a young Nicaraguan boy named Fernando did when he asked me whether I would adopt him, whether I could love him, and whether I thought he was a good kid.  They are moments and faces never to be forgotten because they awaken in us the truth of our shared love and responsibility for children everywhere.  It doesn’t matter that eventually those beautiful children grow up to become adults who speak a different language or live in a land foreign to us.  Small hands can still be held out for friendship and blessing if we’re receptive.

It was a huge affirmation from a very little messenger….

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Tags: Children, Nicaragua, Sharing

Steve Sheppard | April 1, 2012

Like lots of organizations, Winds of Peace Foundation has a mission and a set of cornerstones that it has established to help guide its decisions and directions.  With painstaking deliberation, these written statements were developed with the inputs of many stakeholders, including the founders, employees, its Board of Directors, Nicaraguan voices and friends of the foundation.  In total, these statements represent the values of the foundation, what’s important to us, and they are also resources which provide a touchstone for maintaining our consistency, focus and integrity.  They’re dynamic, living statements that communicate what’s important to us.

So when we encounter partners along the way who deviate from the expectations and comportment promised early in the proposal stage, there is a choice to be made.  We either overlook the variance and hope for eventual better compliance with the agreed-upon expectations or we seek a change in performance to allow our continued partnering.  While the choice between the two options might seem obvious on the face of it, actual resolution to such a dilemma is frequently more complex than it looks. It’s tempting to “bend”  expectations to suit behaviors, rather than vice versa, and over time those core organizational statements of intent can become relegated to just so many nice-sounding words.  It’s a choice to be made by both our partners and ourselves.

Lately, we encountered one such decision-point.  An organization which several years ago presented great promise and exhibited commitment to collaborative work, transparency and accountability- what we have called “institutional strengthening-” has stumbled in its efforts.  A former president of the organization has become a “rogue” member of the board of directors; the elders of the community have avoided confronting the man’s behaviors out of misplaced fears of alienation; other members of the group look for enforcement of principles and practices previously agreed to as tenets of the community; and the objectives of the project have become compromised.  In the wake of it all, the group has requested another round of funding amidst promises of reforming their errant ways and Winds of Peace has declined the request.  What once held great promise for a community’s development has become, at least for now, a foundation footnote about the delicacy of changing long-held attitudes and the unfortunate influence that a single individual can exert over an entire organization.

But that footnote is also a statement about what Winds of Peace stands for.  To ignore the erosion of responsibility and integrity of a partner is to compromise our own validity.  The emotional urge to continue pursuit of the healthy aims of this group has been a persistent one which we have consciously acknowledged and respected; after all, the community has made some good progress during the years in which have we supported them.  Through close accompaniment we have been able to see the rise of participative behaviors, and self-responsibility demonstrated by individuals who might otherwise never have displayed such initiatives.  When we have the opportunity to witness personal and organizational growth like this, it’s hard to let go of the vision of what could be.  Yet in the end, any group seeking support for its strengthening needs also to accept the cause-and-effect reality of its actions.  Success is most often built upon success, a repetitive sequence that grows out of a self-fulfilling commitment to self and others.  Without the commitment and the discipline, a group essentially relies on luck.  And that’s not a strategy compatible with the foundation, regardless of the close affections that inevitably develop when we work with people over time.  It might be an organizational form of tough love or a behavioral intervention, but it’s as necessary for the health of Winds of Peace as it is for the partner in question.

Strangely, being true to one’s values and beliefs is not an easy thing.  There are continuous tests and challenges and enticements to bend those principles for what seem like reasonable reasons.  But doing so almost never pays off in the long run and more often than not is harmful in the short term, as well.  While inflexible policy creates an entity that will be ineffective in working with the realities of human life, values that change with each shifting breeze are destructive to the very pulse of development.  We owe it to our partners to be clear and consistent about what we hold important in our work.  We owe it to ourselves to tolerate no less….

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Steve Sheppard | February 2, 2012

While in Nicaragua last month, we made our way to visit a number of partners and prospects for funding, as usual.  A week’s worth of visits that includes sixteen visits within five departments of the country can make for a tiring itinerary, but there is always a boost of energy that comes from the people themselves.  Corporate CEO’s may receive perks from their jobs like access to private jets or luxurious vacation getaways under the guise of “business meetings.”  But MY perk is found in the faces and voices of rural Nicaraguans, peasants mostly, who are as basic as the earth they work on.  And every once in a while I meet one such person who can absolutely light up a room, his/her peers, and my own soul.  That’s what I experienced a few days ago.

Our final day found us in the northern department of Madriz, in the town of Somoto.  We made an early departure in order to take the long, slow drive to Venecia, a tiny wide-spot-in-the-road where the women of COMUNEC cooperative would be meeting.  The road is barely a road; four-wheel drive low is a blessing and a need, and we may have averaged 5-10 miles per hour for the hour to get there.  The region is as scenic as any spot on earth but for the occasional reminders along the way of how many of the rural poor must live, in marginal dwellings that barely qualify as sheds.  The way up the mountain is stunning: stunning in both its exquisite nature and its intense poverty.

The meeting to which we have been invited is essentially a one-year celebration of the formation of this group and Winds of Peace support of it.  The women arrive on foot, many having come from long distances.  One young woman has hiked for three hours down the mountain to where we have gathered.  Her neighbor has traveled even further, although with the luxury of a horse.  We meet inside the house of one of the members, a smiling, ebullient woman who is as fussy about her guests as any socialite ever was, even within the sparse darkness of her dwelling.  But the energy level is high; the chattering and laughter fills the room.  Shyly, every woman in the room offers a hand of welcome.

This scenario is not uncommon among the visits we make during my time in Nicaragua.   Certainly, groups are always eager to thank those who have provided resources of any kind.  And Nicaraguans in general have always shown themselves to be gracious and friendly in whatever the setting.  So the start of our visit with the women of COMUNEC was not singular by any means.  What it evolved to was something else.

The women began telling their stories of the past year, of how they sought to create an economic initiative of their own, of how their husbands were invited to deed one manzana (1.68 acres) of land to their wives, of how 34 actually did so, of how that transfer created access to funding for the cultivation and care of the land, and how the harvest was now fulfilling dreams.  These are moving stories of individuals who likely have never belonged to any organized group in their lives, who have lived lives of exclusion under the authority of their husbands, and who yearn for their own voices and standing in precisely the same way that women from western societies do.  And maybe for the first time in their lives, they are beginning to feel the empowerment of such achievements.

The stories are told quietly but with confidence, until one young woman stood to share her experience; it was the woman who had hiked for hours.  And her recitation immediately elevated both the impact of the meeting as well as the self-assurances of everyone else in the room.

Her name is Gladis del Socorro Herrera.  She articulated what was held in the hearts of the others in the room and injected an energy and passion that was tangible.  ”To say that I have my own plot of land, that’s a beautiful thing.  It is the first thing I have ever owned that is truly mine.  I can hardly believe that I was out there on this piece of land that was mine! ”  The excitement in her voice was tempered only by the slight quiver of emotion as she spoke it.  I had been attentive to the others prior to this, but Gladis spoke with a fervor that grabbed me entirely.

“This chance makes us owners of something, something that belongs to us, and an experience that we can share with one another, these sisters.  Sharing our excitement, our experiences, our training and our learning, is wonderful!  To have had our heads filled with knowledge, we are brand new people!”   I would never presume to say that I know what Gladis was really feeling, but I do know that her words sent chills up my spine and drew a tear from my eye, such was the power of her testimony.  Her unfiltered, uncensored joy over this simple plot of land- its importance in her life, and how it had even strengthened the relationship with her husband as they compared notes and counseled with one another about the harvest- spoke eloquently about its impact.  Her enthusiasm prompted others to speak with emotion, as well.

“I had never taken a loan before.  I was always frightened about such things.  But the trainings have removed my fears; I’m past that.  I understand how the loan works and it has changed me.”  These small loans from the coop were transformative in small but very personal ways.  I noted especially the reactions of several women in the room who had not yet joined the cooperative and who were as riveted by the stories as I was.  I thought that I perceived looks of hopefulness, if such can be identified.

The elements of life which give us hope, which satisfy our longings and fill us with happiness are likely far different from what we in “developed” countries identify as gratifying; I often find myself asking the question of who is really the more developed?  For one small group of Nicaraguan women, joy has come not from riches or technologies or accumulation of things, but from a plot of earth that they have as their own and the pleasures of sharing such a rare experience with others.

“If you’ve come to take something away from this visit, take our happiness in being able to work together; that is our wealth.”  I did come away with a clear sense of their happiness, and it’s a lesson that perhaps we would all do well to understand….

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Steve Sheppard | January 28, 2012

In light of the current status of banks and banking in the U.S. (wretched), I suppose the last institution with which I’d like to be affiliated is a bank.  Central banks and those deemed “too big to fail” contributed mightily to the near-collapse of the U.S. economy several years ago, and their persistent breaches of integrity place them firmly at the lowest end of the scale of trustworthiness.  It’s a bad place for banks to be, when they represent an institution that really should thrive on their customers’ trust.  (Just this week I was prompted to contact one well-known national bank to inquire about when they might be predisposed to distribute a small remainder of my parents’ estate, the bulk of which was settled months ago.  Oh yeah, they replied, we probably can release those funds now.  Hm.  Who knows how long they might have elected to hold onto the funds if I had not inquired.)

Last week, however, I had an entirely different experience with a banking operation in Nicaragua.  I visited again with The Nicaraguan Association for Sustainable Development (ANIDES) and its visionary leader, Gloria Elena Ordoñez Vargas.  This is an individual and an organization that understands what banking is supposed to be like, and it puts to shame most of the other organizations I know that go by the name “bank.”

Winds of Peace has funded ANIDES previously, in an effort to assist the organization with the establishment of five communal banks.  These are small, local banking offices to promote the economic and organizational autonomy of more than 200 women who live in extreme poverty in very rural locations.  Indeed, the offices more often than not are simply the homes of the local leaders.  But what these banks have been able to do, what they have represented for the women members is nothing short of remarkable.

With a very modest funding by Winds of Peace, in a little more than a year ANIDES has been able to establish a revolving credit fund for the 220+ members, establish two business groups to coordinate independent “home” businesses, provide training in the creation of a savings culture, nurture a positive capital growth in each of the small banks established, offer education and assistance to women victims of domestic violence, enhance the access to basic food needs and boost the local economies of the communities served.  This is banking in its most holistic form, integrating elements that are social, organizational, cultural, economic, human, spiritual and environmental in scope.  When was the last time your bank inquired about your social, human or spiritual needs?

What is even more remarkable about this initiative’s success is that it is being achieved with women members who have almost no previous economic experience or training.  Meeting with the women for the first time last September, I was struck by their shyness and humility, but also with their tenacity (many came from miles away on foot) and their outright success: only one of the small community banks was showing deficits by its neophyte members.  Members themselves were providing the tracking, the follow-up and the solidarity with one another to make sure that their borrowing was matched by their repayments.  In other words, the bank existed to facilitate both the needs and the strengths of its members, not to impose onerous conditions that would encourage failure.  What a novel concept for banking.  What an amazing impact on the lives of some very poor people.

The intended extension of this banking project is that the women, who now have softened some of their previous fears about borrowing money, might be encouraged to invest in the improvement of their rudimentary homes and living conditions, including the installation of ecological toilets.  This amenity- sounding so essential to so many of us- has been considered an absolute luxury by many rural residents.  With the presence of the communal banks to accompany them, such an amenity now seems within reach, and along with it rises the self-esteem of the women who can provide it.  The existence of a small bank can allow these women to take control of their lives in ways they previously could not.

What can a bank do?  Merely channel the empowerment of its members, provide access to credit and tools for investment, facilitate education to recognize and respond to gender oppression, encourage healthy habitat conditions, grow self-esteem, foster economic autonomy and teach people how to take more control of their own lives.  In a world where the future for many banking institutions seems to include implosion, we could learn a great many lessons from these communal banks in Nicaragua.  It might even beg the question, “Who really is the more developed….?”

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Tags: Banking, Credit, Poverty, Success

Steve Sheppard | December 5, 2011

The United Nations General Assembly has declared 2012 as the International Year of Cooperatives, highlighting the contribution of cooperatives to socio-economic development, particularly their impact on poverty reduction, employment generation and social integration.  With the theme of “Cooperative Enterprises Build a Better World”, the Year seeks to encourage the growth and establishment of cooperatives all over the world. It also encourages individuals, communities and governments to recognize the agency of cooperatives in helping to achieve internationally agreed upon development goals, such as the Millennium Development Goals.                     -U.N. IYC Webpage Introduction

It’s about time.  Finally, there is light being shown on a methodology which has for too long been relegated to the very back pages of economic and organizational development.  Like one of its cousins in the U.S., employee ownership, cooperativism has the potential to create sustainable and meaningful change for organizations and individuals alike, and the U.N. declaration hopes to advance that awareness around the world.  I know that we will be taking note with our partners in Nicaragua.

The themes are entirely consistent with the focus and methodologies that Winds of Peace has employed over the past year, in particular:

Cooperatives are not a panacea or even a simple way of organizing an economic enterprise.  In fact, when done with excellence, coops are a more complex way of doing business.  There is a demand for more and better communication among the participants.  Participants come to expect more information about the causes-and-effects of their business, decisions are more frequently made by participant teams rather than one individual, participants expect to have a greater “say” in the business, the organizational configuration often more closely resembles a circle than a triangle, and coops as a result sometimes respond more slowly to changing circumstances.  But when done with excellence, coops can promote business growth, learning, entrepreneurial skills individual development and accelerated wealth creation faster than more traditional forms of ownership/management.  It’s why the U.N. has taken such a visible stand with its declaration.  And it’s why Winds of Peace has provided increasing support to the coops of Nicaragua.  The good news is that we know what the excellent practices consist of and that they can be learned and replicated anywhere.

Read the advantages cited by the IYC in its description of coop strengths:

• Cooperative enterprises build a better world.
• Cooperative enterprises are member owned, member serving and member driven
• Cooperatives empower people
• Cooperatives improve livelihoods and strengthen the economy
• Cooperatives enable sustainable development
• Cooperatives promote rural development
• Cooperatives balance both social and economic demands
• Cooperatives promote democratic principles
• Cooperatives and gender: a pathway out of poverty
• Cooperatives: a sustainable business model for youth

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Tags: Nicaragua Cooperative

Steve Sheppard | October 13, 2011

In working with a few of our cooperative partners in the workshop sessions last month (see some of our recent blog entries here), participants were working toward the objective of forming alliances with one another.  By bringing together the various players in the coffee commercialization chain from the San Juan del Rio Coco area, workshop facilitators Rene Mendoza and Edgar Fernandez orchestrated a dawning realization among participants that their mutual collaborations could strengthen each organization, both individually and collectively.  Such strength-through-solidarity may seem obvious to some, but for rural Nicaraguans it’s not a model that automatically takes hold.  Hence, the workshops to develop such thinking.

The discussion around formation of alliances got me to wondering about similar connections in my own experiences.  I recall alliances between our company and others, among the various chapters of a national association which I served, organizations within our home community and even political alliances around important national issues.  I even recall an uneasy alliance with a fellow manager with whom I did not share a “friendly” relationship, but who sought my support on a questionable initiative.

The importance of consolidating strengths is hard to overstate, yet maybe even harder to teach.  In a world where “me first” seems to have become the norm, the value of a strong alliance can be missed by people who are laser-focused on what they might have to give up instead of what they might stand to gain through forging an alliance.  Rene and Edgar did a good job in setting the table for that understanding through examples, parables, and entertaining an idea that emerged in the discussion.  That notion suggested that before alliances can be effectively formed outside an organization, they must be firmly established inside the organization.  The workshop attendees seemed to grasp this importance pretty quickly and the conversation moved on to other elements.  As usual for me, I found myself falling behind the discussion:  I wanted to continue wrestling with this question of how effective alliances are born.

If effective outside alliances are predicated on the presence of strong inside alliances, then perhaps those inside alliances stem from some earlier base, as well.  And that base just might be the alliance that exists within ourselves, an alignment among our personal values, our courage to remain true to those values, and the actions we take as a result of that alignment.  That’s the alliance which lies at the core of every relationship we build, and which ultimately determines whether we can ever be successful in constructing alliances with others anywhere.  It’s an alliance that is more difficult to discern and to honor than any of the other alliances which may grow out of it.

The notion of personal values likely resonates with everyone, yet our abilities to articulate those values, to fully describe what they are like and how they came to be, is often beyond our reach.  Most of us simply haven’t taken the time from our busy lives to stop long enough to fully identify that which drives us from the deepest levels of our being.

The courage to act on those values is often muted by the fact that we really haven’t fully identified them; it’s hard to stand up for something when you’re not fully aware of what it is.  Most of us are brave to act when we know clearly that which we would defend.  Self?  Of course.  Family?  No doubt.  Values?  Well, what are they….?

Finally, actions are a reflection of what’s on our minds at any given moment.  And if we aren’t continuously conscious of our values, of our willingness to stand up for them, then our actions are likely to be as scattered and disconnected as random thoughts.  It’s how fundamentally good people sometimes perpetrate horrible acts, and then end up wondering why.

Alliances among disparate entities can be almost soothingly integrative; they rekindle a deep-seated hope that somehow, at some level, we can come together for everyone’s advantage, that the world can indeed “work.”  But for that to emerge, for the courage to fight for that hope, we have to start by aligning ourselves with what is fundamental, true and essential to our own cosmic truths.  It’s excruciating work when it’s done seriously.  But when those ideas are united within us individually, only then do we stand a chance at successfully collaborating with others….

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Steve Sheppard | September 23, 2011

I’ve just returned from another visit to Nicaragua, an eight-day stay that featured partner visits, prospective partner discussions, a workshop on coffee cooperatives, an update on the Indigenous people of Telpaneca and their struggle to retain land rights, and a visit with women of the communal banks of ANIDES.  It was a full week, as usual, and one which provided me with many learning opportunities, and especially with the women.  Let me share a lesson in embarrassment.

Our visit with the women was scheduled for my last day of the trip, the end of a long week and many miles of almost-roads.  One year ago, Winds of Peace had made a small grant to ANIDES for the purpose of establishing a series of small community banks for the women who resided in the region.  These are women with little or no previous financial experience of any kind, and the ANIDES experience was to provide training and opportunity for the women to establish some sort of economic foothold.   Now, one year later, the women had come together from their rather distant communities to celebrate their accomplishments.  In anticipation, the director of ANIDES contacted my colleague, Mark, and requested that he attend the gathering since Winds of Peace had provided the funds for the enterprise.  Mark mentioned that I would be in the country at that time, and the stage was set: we would simply have to make an appearance as part of the celebration.

All week long I wondered what the expectation of us might be at this celebration, what roles we could be expected to play.  As the date drew nearer, I even speculated out loud that this could be one of those settings where a lot of people wanted to say their thanks to the Foundation, with each woman wanting to express her own gratitude.  Such occasions of gratitude happen from time to time and create an awkwardness that I find difficult to channel; gratitude is not one of the outcomes we seek in the work of the Foundation.  With great trepidation, therefore, we snaked along the rocky path toward the site, over boulders and through fender-high streams to the very interior of the countryside, the small community of Pueblo Viejo.  And all the while I winced, not at the jarring ride but at the prospect of having to accept copious thanks.  I asked Mark again what he thought our presence was for, but he could offer me no relief.

As we drove up to the meeting site, I grimaced at the banner hung over a fence: “Welcome Friends from Winds of Peace- Women of Cerro El Padre, San Marcos and Pueblo Viejo.”  Clearly, this was to be an event of thank-you’s and I dreaded it.  It’s an attitude that comes from not being particularly gracious at receiving either gifts or gratitude.  But the intention of the gathering was clear and I prepared myself for the discomfort of very poor women offering heartfelt thanks to representatives of a North American foundation.  I thought to myself that we should have perhaps begged off from this stop and avoided the ungraceful moment.

We were led to the very front of where the women were seated and immediately asked to offer words of support and encouragement.  That’s something which is easy to do for people who have so little and who try so hard.  It’s not difficult for me to express my admiration and respect for the people with whom we work.  But mostly, I stood in apprehension of what was to come.  And then an interesting thing happened.  As I shared my thoughts with these women, I saw faces that were attentive, focused and eager to hear what this “gringo” might have to say.  And their interest embraced me.

When I had finished, Mark and I were offered an apology that more of the bank members were not present.  President Daniel Ortega had scheduled an appearance in the nearby city and sent buses, trucks and any other modes of transport into the countryside to ship people into town.  In most cases, this was not an invitation but a command performance, one that could hardly be refused.  Nonetheless, perhaps 40 women sat before us, an impressive group.  We were provided a narrative by one of the branch managers, a summary of what the banks had

established and how the women had actually been able to create significant savings accounts, despite their deep needs.  Forty-one women, three distant communities, and more than $5,800 saved: an impressive feat by women who have had no previous financial education or counsel, and who live day-to-day with needs that far outnumber their resources.  We were treated to a display of some of the produce they had generated by virtue of their loans, offered freshly-made tortillas and fruits, and listened to individual stories of how access to the bank had made an impact on families.  The stories were related with shyness but with pride, as well, and as each woman stood to recount her tale, I could hear the confidence in each voice increasing, each emboldened by the others, stating what they had done, and yes, grateful for having the opportunity.  I heard the testimonies as statements of achievement, existence, of people having made a mark by virtue of being given a chance.  And rather quickly, my initial feelings of awkwardness gave way to a wave of immense embarrassment.  For this meeting was not about WPF, and certainly not about me or how I might have preferred spending that Saturday morning.

Even as I work in Nicaragua with some of the poorest people on earth, as I try to understand and come to terms with the injustices that exist and how I fit into that equation, I can still feel the inclination to be more concerned about my own welfare, my own feelings, my own self, than the needs of others.  I traveled to this remote outpost with thoughts of my own comfort rather than what my attendance among these women might mean to them, and it’s a realization that still leaves me shaking my head.

Selfishness is a very real and present human condition for most of us, I guess, so there is some rationalized comfort in that.  (There I go again.)  But it’s when we discern how to suspend such feelings and we open ourselves up to others that we gain true clarity about ourselves and each other.  I readily confess that as we drove away from the celebration, the back of the truck filled with peasant women and children, I no longer preferred the idea of having begged off from the event.  With great chagrin I offered a silent thanks for perhaps my best visit of the entire week, and the chance to come face-to-face with human grace….

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Steve Sheppard | August 20, 2011

Winds of Peace has funded a series of workshops this year, focused on the value chain for rural coffee growers in Nicaragua, including small scale producers, first and second tier cooperatives, technical support organizations, buyers and funders.  The third in this series of workshops- all attended by the same participants- will be held during the first week of September, and the planners and facilitators of the conference are busy with preparations. Even WPF has preparation to do, as we have been asked to present some history and context on WPF Founders Harold and Louise Nielsen, the company they founded (Foldcraft Co.) and the unique way in which it has been envisioned, how and why WPF was formed after the sale of Foldcraft to its employees through an ESOP, and whatever other historical information might be of value to the workshop participants.  It’s a privilege to be asked to participate in this way.

Rene Mendoza, who has been the primary organizer and facilitator of these workshops, also sent along some questions about the visions which Harold and Louise might have had for Foldcraft, Winds of Peace, the people of Nicaragua.  The questions are deeply philosophical and invite thoughtful answers, which Harold has agreed to provide.  But there is one in particular which caught my attention and which I share here.  Rene asks,

As the expression of the Chinese teacher goes: “Knowing that 1 and 1 is 2 is important, but more important is understanding the “and.”  But I am not able to understand what they [Harold and Louise] understood. What is the “and” that Harold, Louise… understood?  Is WPF part of that “and?”  What is really the “and” … that only a few get to understand it and make it a reality?

Getting to the “and.”  That’s what Rene is asking for, to understand what exactly that means for people like Harold and Louise, why so few of us seem to understand it or demonstrate it.  It’s as if the “and” has some ephemeral or illusive quality worthy of the chase.  I’m sure that Harold will have some simply-stated, deep-truth answer to the question as he frequently does.  But it has also prompted my own thinking.

My first thought is that “and” means in addition.   ”And” is the addition, the action, the including connector between two or more of anything: words, numbers, people, things, whatever.  There is something incorporating and encompassing in that simple word, something that embraces rather than excludes.  There is at least one world-view that suggests everything and everybody on this earth is here for a reason, a meaning toward the whole, that our own purpose here is to discern what that role is to be, how we fit within the entirety.  In that world-view, the “and” is as essential as life itself, since we cannot complete the whole without every element of its makeup.  ”And” is a together word which presumes that there is no reason to leave something out, to exclude, to leave behind, to forget.  I suspect that Harold and Louise intuitively felt the sense of “and” on that very first journey amidst poverty and deprivation.

“And” also invokes adding to, as in the very example Rene uses, “1 and 1 is two.”  It is an indicator of a plus, creating something more than where you started, building something bigger.  It seems an irony to me that we human beings, who are always on the lookout for ways to create and have more of everything- security, food, comforts, satisfactions, achievements, things- seem to want to do so by and for ourselves.  And when we do see the need for collaborative efforts, such initiatives are short-lived for the most part, broken apart at the fear of having given up too much or at the lure of achieving some other objective for our own benefit.  Especially here in the United States, we revere the myth of rugged individualism, the perceived strength of “going it alone.”  It makes for wonderful storytelling but an inferior strategy.  No one of us is as smart as all of us.  Missing the plus of inclusion is like trying to fell a tree with a nail file: it’s possible, perhaps, but it could be done a lot faster and better.  Harold Nielsen learned that reality by building a business that could only be successful utilizing the skills and energies of all of its members.  It led to employee ownership and a participative organization wherein people were provided with the opportunity to understand the “and,” from both inside and outside of the company.

“And” implies a consequence, too.  The Nielsens elected to take that fateful trip to Central America all those years ago, and they were transformed.  Life truly lived implies some degree of risk-taking, a coming out of the comfort zone for the sake of learning, seeing differently, understanding the complexities of this world in new ways.  We will never understand all of it, but we are called to know more of it than we do.  The only way to achieve that look is through the lives of others, to see their realities in light of our own.  It was true for the Nielsens as they ventured far away from the safe confines of rural MInnesota, for the members of Foldcraft who are asked to see business in a very different way, and for all of us who allow the idea of the “and” to lure us to new perspectives.  There are consequences to such experiences; for some, the risk is worth taking, the consequence positively transformative.  For others, the risk is too great and the “and” remains an elusive curiosity.

Winds of Peace Foundation represents the “and.”  It is the current evolutionary place in a long journey of seeking, self-discernment, self-effacement, discovery and response.  It isn’t a perfect partner for those with whom it works, nor does it purport to be the answer to the myriad difficulties faced by its Nicaraguan neighbors.  But it is a manifestation of the Nielsens, and of those who have been invited along for the journey, to regard their own lives in a posture of servanthood and connectedness with the world at-large.  It’s a counterintuitive, countercultural view of life that runs contrary to the way most of us think and live, and why, when we hear of it in someone else, we behold it with a deep, wistful longing for ourselves….

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Steve Sheppard | May 17, 2011

I receive all kinds of reports and updates from Nicaragua every week.  My colleague there, Mark Lester, does a phenomenal job of staying in touch with our partners, our consultants and the general assistance community so that those of us Foundation members in North America can keep up with the twists and turns of events.  And there are many!  But Mark’s frequent translations of partner progress serve as a consistent and accurate barometer of just how things are developing (or not) and how we might best respond to realities.

After serving Winds of Peace in Nicaragua for more than five years now, I’ve had enough reports, time and meetings to have developed relationships with many of our partners.  Even though my trips to Nicaragua are limited and relatively short in duration, Mark has made sure that the opportunity for relationship-building has occurred through frequency of visits and the content of our conversations.  It’s an important part of the Foundation’s methodology as well as my own “development.”  And in the process, I’ve met many organizations for whom I have developed a great deal of admiration and respect, and a lot of people that I just plain like.  It’s been one of the highlights of this work.

So I am not at all surprised that I have formed emotional attachments with some of these partners, feelings that I have some kind of personal stake in their lives, even though I suspect that they may not always sense it.  To be candid, I have my favorites.  There are some organizations and individuals who, for whatever reason, have resonated with me in ways that feel very personal, almost family-like.  I can’t help but pull for such people with the same intense concern that I feel for my own family members.  It’s an investment that I have no choice but to make; it comes from inside somewhere.  It’s a good feeling.  But it comes with a risk attached.

My fondness for many of our partners is born out of my profound respect for their persistence in the face of overwhelming odds, for their oftentimes humble and gentle spirits when there is so much to be outraged about, for their friendliness and hospitality when there are so many reasons to behave otherwise.  But I have sometimes found myself considering my Nicaraguan acquaintances generically, characterizing them in my own mind as “honorable, persevering martyrs,” victims of a global conspiracy to defraud them of their livelihoods, their rights, their dignity.  In certain ways I have elevated the Nicaraguan people to a status upon a pedestal, where their histories, sufferings and oppressions all come together to create a mythic nobility that is neither entirely accurate nor even fair.  For when I find myself thinking of our partners this way, I have set them up for certain failure.

The reality is that no one can live up to a glorified, generalized persona created by someone else.  Our partners are no closer to perfection than any of us.  To establish expectations of them that are based upon an exaggerated notion of their temperament and tendencies is as unfair and unreasonable as attributing no potential to them at all.   And those of us in the assistance business are as guilty of it as any.

About the time I become excited about a particular cooperative or association, something inevitably occurs that was not according to expectation or plan.  A leader might falter. Borrowers might default.  Performances may fall short of plans.  There could be all kinds of reasons offered as to why objectives were not met.  In the face of these realities, if I have conjured some vision of higher-than-reasonable expectations which do not come to pass, our partners will inevitably fall short, my own disappointments to follow, and the shortfall will be of my own making.  It’s a vicious cycle that I risk creating without the slightest intention or awareness of doing so, one more unfairness that we in the “developed world” foist upon the less lucky.

Our neighbors in Nicaragua and in other struggling communities of the world are not better or more deserving of our attention and assistance because they are pedestaled heroes.  They are something less than perfect, as are we all.  Their stumbles and false starts are not more disappointing, more frustrating nor any more condemning than our own.  They are human beings, mostly doing the best they can with what they have and what they know.  In that light, perhaps the best I can do is to share what I have and what I have come to know, striving to learn with others, to recognize and graciously accept the imperfections that we all carry with us every moment of our lives….

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