So, my day just got cancelled!
If you've read any of the previous blogs, you will know I'm currently battling Nepali Government Bureaucracy to get the end of year tax returns and audit filed before I leave next Wednesday. Today, was to be one of those days - 10am was to be a meeting at the tax office, following by a trip to the bank to wait in an hour long queue to get copy statements (oh how I love my Internet banking in England), then a stop off at the lawyers office before going to the Department of Industry to apply for the change of registered address of the production centre. This afternoon I just had one meeting planned with a ethical clothing production centre on behalf of someone else. So not exactly an exciting day, but a necessary one.
Well, I left my flat this morning at 8.30 to walk to a central area where I could get a taxi, the back roads where choc-a-block with traffic which is most unusual. Mostly my walk into town consists of dodging bicycles, avoiding packs of stray dogs, passing sacred cows munching on rubbish and plastic bags and lots of "hello, how are you, I am fine" exchanges with the local children on their way to school.
When I got to the main road, there was obviously something going on; for a start there was no sign of the usual congestion, black smoke belching lorries, honking taxis and hoards of motorbikes squeezing into any spare space to ensure the pedestrians can't get through; just a very large police presence with their batons and riot shields. "Oh, well" I thought, another Friday in Kathmandu!
Nepalis have perfected the art of bunking off on Fridays - they just call a strike (Bandh) on the roads, so nothing can travel. There is often an exchange between the Production Centre Manager and I about who has the best deal on holidays; our girls get 44 days holiday a year and when Ritu is telling me they need a day off because they have been working hard, I throw back at her the generous holidays they get, to which she normally replies, "yes, but you get Sundays off". I can't argue with that, Nepal has a six day working week, which actually means we get an extra 52 days off on top of our annual and bank holidays. However, I must say that it is rare that six days a week working is actually achieved. The week before last there was a three day 'women's' festival of Tij, last week was normal, but this week a strike has been called for Friday and in two weeks time the main festivals of Dashain and Tihar start which means a month long holiday for most. The cynical side of me does tend to think there's a bit of extra holiday manipulation going on!
Strikes are the normal way of protesting about something someone doesn't like and they can be called by political parties, students or any group with a grievance really - or so it seems. This one is protesting against police brutality. In Nepal, no one takes much notice of 'the rules', not like us English who diligently follow new laws and guidelines and are indignant at those who don't. However, the new Government is trying to take action and recently sanctioned new powers to the police to crack down on law breakers. Well, last night apparently, the police stopped one guy on a motorbike who had an expired licence (it's more unusual to have a licence at all), so they beat him up and killed him! A bit extreme I think, a fine would have been sufficient! So, understandably, the people were a bit upset about this and they've called a strike.
They have a saying here in answer to anything you can't do anything about - ke garne (what to do?) The result is, everyone has a day off.
I must say, I'm not too upset my round of Government office visits today has been cancelled and it does give me something to look forward to on Sunday.
(PS. I'm not trying to make a light issue of the poor guy who got killed or the suffering of his family - it is very tragic and wrong. I'm writing after second hand, gossipy information and I don't know the whole story)
Friday, September 12, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
Fair Trade - fair to all
What is fair trade? Is it paying a fair price to disadvantaged producers in the developing world for their skill and work? Is it paying a fair market price in the developed world for goods or services you buy? or is the whole supply chain supposed to be fair?
I believe it is all of the above, fair trade should be fair right across the board to everyone involved in the supply chain, including those in the middle, like us, who are trying to manage those relationships.
However, the reality these days seems to be the middle people, those who are trying to raise awareness, lead the way in forging relationships between the producers and the retail customers who are being squeezed into unfair situations; I'll give you a couple of examples:-
Trying to do our bit for sustainable manufacture, I am always on the look out for more environmentally friendly or ethical raw materials and this week I went to meet with a producer with a new line in hemp bags. The bag designs were good, with little adjustment would fit in well with our direction towards western fashion and were well made. However, when it came to the price, I was forced to reject them. To make the minimum profit margins we need (and that's by no means excessive, my accountant would say not enough!), I would have to sell the hemp bags in the UK a higher price than many of the leather bags. As many people know, hemp is a wonderfully ethical fabric; sustainable, environmentally friendly and strong; however, in the UK, the perceived value of hemp is lower than leather. There is a market for hemp, but people are just not prepared to pay the price it needs to be within the fair trade supply chains.
A different 'squeeze' is presented by one of the IFAT producers I work with. Over the years, we have developed a strong relationship, but slowly every year the cost prices have been increasing disproportionately. I could be wrong, but there seems to be an attitude of 'they can afford it' without the understanding that people are not prepared to pay 'any price' for fair trade goods. I want to support these organisations, but it gets to a point where the products become uneconomical to buy and sell in the UK and Europe.
When I'm visiting developing countries, I am often viewed through 'dollar shaped glasses', it's totally understandable, in comparison we are rich, but there is absolutely no concept of the cost of living in the 'Western' world, all they see is us visiting their countries and spending money. I'm not sure if it is politically correct to say so, but it is often referred to as 'white tax'.
The current worldwide economic climate is pushing prices up everywhere, in Nepal fuel and food prices have risen and the normal way of doing things is to pass those costs directly onto customers. In the UK with the 'credit crunch' biting hard, customers are looking for ways of saving money, buying cheaper goods and economising on 'non-essential items' (which doesn't appear to include beer or wine and going out at the weekends), so those people in the middle get the squeeze.
There is definitely a need for trade to be fairer, in Nepal where I am right now, every day I am witness to the cripling poverty, exploitation, child labour and desperation. Fair trade make a huge difference and I am also lucky enough to witness the positive change to the lives of some of those in such a desperate situation that their families had been forced to sell their daughters to traffickers in order to survive. But undoubtedly, the hardest part of running a fair trade business is trying to manage these relationships at each end of the scale whilst maintaining a viable profit level in the middle.
I believe it is all of the above, fair trade should be fair right across the board to everyone involved in the supply chain, including those in the middle, like us, who are trying to manage those relationships.
However, the reality these days seems to be the middle people, those who are trying to raise awareness, lead the way in forging relationships between the producers and the retail customers who are being squeezed into unfair situations; I'll give you a couple of examples:-
Trying to do our bit for sustainable manufacture, I am always on the look out for more environmentally friendly or ethical raw materials and this week I went to meet with a producer with a new line in hemp bags. The bag designs were good, with little adjustment would fit in well with our direction towards western fashion and were well made. However, when it came to the price, I was forced to reject them. To make the minimum profit margins we need (and that's by no means excessive, my accountant would say not enough!), I would have to sell the hemp bags in the UK a higher price than many of the leather bags. As many people know, hemp is a wonderfully ethical fabric; sustainable, environmentally friendly and strong; however, in the UK, the perceived value of hemp is lower than leather. There is a market for hemp, but people are just not prepared to pay the price it needs to be within the fair trade supply chains.
A different 'squeeze' is presented by one of the IFAT producers I work with. Over the years, we have developed a strong relationship, but slowly every year the cost prices have been increasing disproportionately. I could be wrong, but there seems to be an attitude of 'they can afford it' without the understanding that people are not prepared to pay 'any price' for fair trade goods. I want to support these organisations, but it gets to a point where the products become uneconomical to buy and sell in the UK and Europe.
When I'm visiting developing countries, I am often viewed through 'dollar shaped glasses', it's totally understandable, in comparison we are rich, but there is absolutely no concept of the cost of living in the 'Western' world, all they see is us visiting their countries and spending money. I'm not sure if it is politically correct to say so, but it is often referred to as 'white tax'.
The current worldwide economic climate is pushing prices up everywhere, in Nepal fuel and food prices have risen and the normal way of doing things is to pass those costs directly onto customers. In the UK with the 'credit crunch' biting hard, customers are looking for ways of saving money, buying cheaper goods and economising on 'non-essential items' (which doesn't appear to include beer or wine and going out at the weekends), so those people in the middle get the squeeze.
There is definitely a need for trade to be fairer, in Nepal where I am right now, every day I am witness to the cripling poverty, exploitation, child labour and desperation. Fair trade make a huge difference and I am also lucky enough to witness the positive change to the lives of some of those in such a desperate situation that their families had been forced to sell their daughters to traffickers in order to survive. But undoubtedly, the hardest part of running a fair trade business is trying to manage these relationships at each end of the scale whilst maintaining a viable profit level in the middle.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The GHD Dilemma
I've got a dilemma and I need help deciding what to do....
Like any girl (or 40 something woman who still likes to be considered a girl), I love my GHDs and if you saw my picture on facebook a few days ago, you will understand that my frizzy mop needs taming (the picture opposite is post GHDs). Now, I have tried other straighteners in the past, but they are just not the same and, although it may be shamelessly sad, vain and shallow to admit, my life was greatly enhanced the day my GHDs arrive.
Nothing would part me from them and persuade me to change to another brand and I even bring them to Nepal with me, despite that fact no one cares about my unfrizzed hair here except me, there's often no electricity and it's really not necessary.
The other night I stayed at the production centre with the girls. These are the girls who we help through Hatti, by providing a new start and a chance of regaining their dignity and becoming independent through making fair trade handbags. They all come from extremely poor families and have never had any luxury in life, let alone any money to spend on things which are not absolutely necessary for surviving.
In the morning, when electricity was available, I went down to the communal room and plugged in the GHDs. They have never seen anything like straighteners before, but before long, Asha had taken over straightening my hair for me; when the other girls saw "the taming of the frizz" they were fascinated and all wanted a go. They all have beautiful long black hair, some of them are lucky enough to have straight, sleek locks, but the others suffer exactly the same problems as we do of uncontrollable hair.
A queue gradually formed and Asha became the impromptu resident GHD operator. They were so happy and looked so beautiful; to add to the occasion, it also happened to be the festival of Tij where all the girls dress up in the best saris and go into town for celebration, so it was lovely to be able to give them something extra that day.
So, here's my dilemma - Do I leave my GHD's behind????
I can believe I'm actually thinking about it, I cannot live without my GHDs and they are not cheap, it's not like I can just go out and by another pair. However, the girls would never ever be able to afford to buy some and even if they did have £100, they would spend it on their family, not on their own vanity. But, they are young girls (18 - 26) and their looks are important, like any young girl.
I know there is more to life than straight, sleek hair, but it does help make a difference to a girl's day.
So what do I do????
1. Keep them, they've never had some, so won't miss them and I need them more.
2. Leave them behind for the girls
Help, I've got the Devil of Vanity sitting on one shoulder and the Angel of Giving on the other.
(please leave your comments below, on facebook or email me).
Like any girl (or 40 something woman who still likes to be considered a girl), I love my GHDs and if you saw my picture on facebook a few days ago, you will understand that my frizzy mop needs taming (the picture opposite is post GHDs). Now, I have tried other straighteners in the past, but they are just not the same and, although it may be shamelessly sad, vain and shallow to admit, my life was greatly enhanced the day my GHDs arrive.
Nothing would part me from them and persuade me to change to another brand and I even bring them to Nepal with me, despite that fact no one cares about my unfrizzed hair here except me, there's often no electricity and it's really not necessary.
The other night I stayed at the production centre with the girls. These are the girls who we help through Hatti, by providing a new start and a chance of regaining their dignity and becoming independent through making fair trade handbags. They all come from extremely poor families and have never had any luxury in life, let alone any money to spend on things which are not absolutely necessary for surviving.
In the morning, when electricity was available, I went down to the communal room and plugged in the GHDs. They have never seen anything like straighteners before, but before long, Asha had taken over straightening my hair for me; when the other girls saw "the taming of the frizz" they were fascinated and all wanted a go. They all have beautiful long black hair, some of them are lucky enough to have straight, sleek locks, but the others suffer exactly the same problems as we do of uncontrollable hair.
A queue gradually formed and Asha became the impromptu resident GHD operator. They were so happy and looked so beautiful; to add to the occasion, it also happened to be the festival of Tij where all the girls dress up in the best saris and go into town for celebration, so it was lovely to be able to give them something extra that day.
So, here's my dilemma - Do I leave my GHD's behind????
I can believe I'm actually thinking about it, I cannot live without my GHDs and they are not cheap, it's not like I can just go out and by another pair. However, the girls would never ever be able to afford to buy some and even if they did have £100, they would spend it on their family, not on their own vanity. But, they are young girls (18 - 26) and their looks are important, like any young girl.
I know there is more to life than straight, sleek hair, but it does help make a difference to a girl's day.
So what do I do????
1. Keep them, they've never had some, so won't miss them and I need them more.
2. Leave them behind for the girls
Help, I've got the Devil of Vanity sitting on one shoulder and the Angel of Giving on the other.
(please leave your comments below, on facebook or email me).
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
I wont complain about British Bureaucracy again, promise...
Although I would much prefer to talk about the women's festival of Tij - all the girls have a day off, they fast all day, no food or water, but are all very excited, have dressed up in their best saris and are off out for the day - I have a day dealing with Nepali Government bureaucracy!
Ritu, the Centre Manager, and I have managed to gather together the Auditor, the Shipping Agent and our Lawyer for a meeting this morning, which was no small feat in itself.
Apparently, although we are registered as an export business, there is some paperwork missing with the government which allows us a licence to do the physical exporting bit, so now we have to write an agreement between the shipping agent and Hatti Productions to confirm that the goods have been exported and not sold in the domestic market.
Then, it's an exciting trip around the maze of Government buildings - Oh joy! The first department we have to visit is the tax office and these visits usually form the ritual of me trotting behind the lawyer whilst he whisks from room to room, dishing out rupes here and there to jump queues, then back to the beginning and start all over again, or so it seems. Eventually I will get instructed to plant my finger prints on some document, the contents of which are a complete mystery to me, and when we have a precious piece of paper from the tax office, the deal is done.
Next we have to go to the Department of Industry with our piece of paper from the tax office and submit the audit - more queueing, or should I say queue jumping (you need a good lawyer who knows the right people), a dozen more offices, more purple ink on the fingers and prints verifying mysterious documents, a bit of sitting around while the lawyer does his thing and we're done, until....
The visa needs renewing, now I have collect my UK representative over here and we form an orderly line, trotting behind the lawyer as he rushes around in his pinstripe suit and trainers - yes, lawyers here wear pinstripe suits as well - more rupes, more finger prints and a dozen or so photographs just for good measure and the day is, hopefully, over.
I don't know how many days it will actually take, but my head hurts already and the first meeting hasn't even started.
In the UK, software does it all for me and I submit my tax returns on-line, it takes about 10 minutes, but every time I have to do it, I moan about it!
Incidentally, the Nepal Government isn't computerised at all, most bigger companies will be, but the 'powers that be' in the Government believe that computerisation will cause loss of jobs..... I'm old enough to remember the start of computerisation in the UK (which makes me sound scarily old), and came across similar attitudes many times then - how silly does that sound now?
Ritu, the Centre Manager, and I have managed to gather together the Auditor, the Shipping Agent and our Lawyer for a meeting this morning, which was no small feat in itself.
Apparently, although we are registered as an export business, there is some paperwork missing with the government which allows us a licence to do the physical exporting bit, so now we have to write an agreement between the shipping agent and Hatti Productions to confirm that the goods have been exported and not sold in the domestic market.
Then, it's an exciting trip around the maze of Government buildings - Oh joy! The first department we have to visit is the tax office and these visits usually form the ritual of me trotting behind the lawyer whilst he whisks from room to room, dishing out rupes here and there to jump queues, then back to the beginning and start all over again, or so it seems. Eventually I will get instructed to plant my finger prints on some document, the contents of which are a complete mystery to me, and when we have a precious piece of paper from the tax office, the deal is done.
Next we have to go to the Department of Industry with our piece of paper from the tax office and submit the audit - more queueing, or should I say queue jumping (you need a good lawyer who knows the right people), a dozen more offices, more purple ink on the fingers and prints verifying mysterious documents, a bit of sitting around while the lawyer does his thing and we're done, until....
The visa needs renewing, now I have collect my UK representative over here and we form an orderly line, trotting behind the lawyer as he rushes around in his pinstripe suit and trainers - yes, lawyers here wear pinstripe suits as well - more rupes, more finger prints and a dozen or so photographs just for good measure and the day is, hopefully, over.
I don't know how many days it will actually take, but my head hurts already and the first meeting hasn't even started.
In the UK, software does it all for me and I submit my tax returns on-line, it takes about 10 minutes, but every time I have to do it, I moan about it!
Incidentally, the Nepal Government isn't computerised at all, most bigger companies will be, but the 'powers that be' in the Government believe that computerisation will cause loss of jobs..... I'm old enough to remember the start of computerisation in the UK (which makes me sound scarily old), and came across similar attitudes many times then - how silly does that sound now?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
