Meeting La Caja Rural

I went home a little anxious that afternoon. I don’t know what a caja rural is. How I am supposed to help improve their operations? And having to take the bus back by myself was not making me feel any better.

I read the handout and learned a Caja Rural is a group of people organized to earn money and put it into savings. It didn’t explain how these people earned money or how/where this money is saved. It certainly did not explain how a Caja Rural’s operations should work.

The next morning, equipped with my little knowledge of Cajas Rurales and my nicest smile to hide how nervous I was, I headed to El Porvenir to meet the members of the Caja Rural. I was driven by my project teacher, Anny. We met my project counterpart, Doña Delmi, at a pottery business down the road where she works, and was instructed by her that the group would be meeting in a house up the road, right across from that “carreta de bueyes” (Ox Cart). Annie went with me to the house to make sure everything was alright before leaving, she also gave me good words of advice: “Don’t start working right away. Spend time earning the trust of these people before you talk business. You will be a lot more successful if they trust you”. After Annie left, I sat at the living room with my counterpart waiting for the rest of the members to show up.

When we met Doña Delmi at her work she was very shy and quiet. She was in the kitchen cleaning dishes. She had shyly told us that we were going to the other house for the meeting and walked with us there in silence. Now, as we sat in the living room not saying much and smiling at each other, I wondered how in the world she could be a leader in this group.

Over the next 15 minutes the other members showed up. It was about 13 women!! As they walked in I introduced myself and asked them their names. Some were mothers and daughters, some were cousins, and they were all friends. The conversation started slowly. I wondered how I can earn the trust and respect of these women. They are mothers worried about feeding their children, and have lived a lot more and a lot harder than I have. I don’t even understand their Caja Rural. How can I help them?

I decided I should open up and tell them a little about myself. The kind of personal things people ask me around here. I told them about Max; that I have only been married 4 months and that’s why I still don’t have children; that I am from PR but lived in the US the last five years; that I am now Honduran for the next two years. I then explained what Peace Corps is and why I was there. They liked the information and asked questions. They also told me a little about their lives (although not as much as I had told them about mine). It soon became a typical woman conversation. We were all talking at the same time, laughing, and somehow understanding each other. I was starting to feel a connection.

Then I asked them about their Caja Rural. I explained I was still a student and was there to learn from them what the organization was and see if I could help in any way. They said they have been together for about 6 years. The group started as an idea to earn and save money together. Each member is required to contribute 200 Lempiras (about $10) every three months. The money is then lent out to people in the community or amongst the members themselves and collected back with interest. The money earned in interest is distributed equally amongst members every three months. They hold bi-weekly meetings to discuss the status of their savings and charge a fine to any member that does not show up. If a member wants to liquidate, they calculate how much it’s owed to that person and given to them. They showed me their notebook where they keep records of every member’s savings and every loan they have given out.

As they explained, I looked around the group. Some of these women have only finished elementary school; some of them are missing teeth; some of them look very young; they are all so beautiful with their dark hair and skin, shiny black eyes, the kind of black that reminds you of a moonless night, their clothes simple but clean, all of them so poor. And then it stuck me, despite their circumstances these women are here fighting. They have devised and implemented the most brilliant idea ever and have made it work for six years. That’s when I understood why Doña Delmi, and all the others, are truly leaders in their community.

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about what worries them. They are worried about money. During their rainy season their pottery does not dry and the income stops coming in. The hardest months of the year are ahead. I said they have the advantage of being an organized group that had different skills and that they could leverage that to earn some income. We brainstormed income generated ideas and came up with a list of three that are simple to implement:

1. Use some of the money in their savings to buy ingredients and cook something then sell it.
2. Buy a few articles and raffle them.
3. Sell some of their pottery directly in the local market to the final consumer instead of to the “coyotes” (middle man).

We chose two leaders for each of the ideas. I would work with these leaders to research and implement the idea. We also decided that we would start by cooking bread to sell in two days, calculated the cost of making the bread and how much we would need to sell to make a profit. Tasks were assigned to each member for the bread making activity. We also agreed that I would go to the market on Thursday with the leaders to find out what would it take to sell their pottery there. As we were finishing up these details, I heard a horn in the distance. It sounded like the bus. They all quickly helped me organize my things and ran out to stop the bus for me. They told me how much it should cost me and were I needed to get out. We said our goodbyes and promised to see each other in two days.