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Mobile Money & Elder Care from Kampala – by Charlotte Hawkins

ShireenWalton22 September 2019

Calling and mobile money are the most ubiquitous uses of mobile phones in the Kampala fieldsite. This connects people to their relatives across distances, allowing people to check on family or request assistance. Mobile money is often lauded as an example of adapting technology to requirements ‘from below’ (Pype, K., 2017), offering financial flexibility and connection (Kusimba et al., 2016: 266; Maurer, 2012: 589). With 33 mobile money vendors in the low-income neighbourhood where fieldwork was conducted, it is the most convenient and accessible platform for saving and transferring money.

Various people in Godown explained how they provide for their parents and relatives in the village without visiting them as “you can send money on the phone”. People sending money take cash to an agent, who arranges the transfer to the recipient’s phone number via their mobile.  Whilst relatives living in rural areas may be able to grow their own food, money is necessary for other amenities, transport, school fees, hospital bills, and burial costs. As one woman explained, if she wasn’t sending her parents money, they would have no other source of income; recently, her mother had a stomach ulcer, so she sent her money to go to hospital.  And from the perspective of an elder in the village in Northern Uganda, “life’s easier now with phones”, as they are able to communicate family problems with relatives in the city and mobilise necessary funds. This also exacerbates the burden of care for urban relatives. A local councillor in Godown explained how he bought his sister in the village a smartphone in order to make communication easier between them. But he actually finds the connectivity has made life “a bit harder” for him, as it has increased his obligation; when people have problems, they can immediately let him know and he’s expected to find money for them. Before, news of a death could take a week to reach him, by which time he may have even missed the burial and the accompanying financial obligations.

In a survey of 50 respondent’s phone use, only 3 people said they had not used mobile money in the past 6 months. Those who had used it sent and received money 3 times a month on average. We asked them about the last 3 times they had sent or received mobile money, who the person was, the amount and reason for remitting. Of 130 recorded remittances, the average amount sent was just over 200,000ugx, ranging from as little as 10,000 to 10,000,000ugx. Mostly, remittances were sent or received from siblings (28%), parents (12%), friends (11%),  and customers (10%). Sometimes people had deposited money for themselves, using their phone as their bank. The greatest proportion of remittances (28%) were for ‘help’, which could include money for upkeep, food, ‘pocket money’ or gifts. This was followed by remittances for health purposes (25%), which could include hospital bills, medicine, transport to hospital and surgery costs. 6 of these transfers were received or forwarded by the respondent in a chain of remittances, for the purposes of supporting older relatives. For example, one respondent had received 200,000ugx from her daughter, in order to help her take her mother in the village to hospital; or another who received 30,000 from their Aunt for their grandmother’s hospital bills. Perhaps the older person was unable to receive the money themselves, or perhaps other relatives weren’t trusted to pass on the money.

As economic anthropologist Bill Maurer notes, mobile services such as mobile money are appropriated within existing communicative networks (2012: 593). These instances of phone use demonstrate how mobile phones can provide a platform for intergenerational care between the city and the village. This works against a pervasive academic, public and everyday discourse about the declining social position and experience of older people in Uganda and Africa more broadly (e.g. Nzabona and Ntozi: 2017; Nankwanga et al., 2013; Van Der Geest, 2011; Oppong, 2006; van der Geest, 1997), often associated with broader contextual shifts, such as the urbanisation and technologization which have necessitated and facilitated mobile money practices. Research participants often lamented the Westernisation, increasing materialism and individualism, of the younger ‘dotcom’ generation exposed to outside influences. But in these everyday instances, ‘dotcom’ technologies are also shown to up-hold family support and obligation towards older relatives, despite greater distances between them.

References:

  • Kusimba, S., Yang, Y., Chawla, N., 2016. Hearthholds of mobile money in western Kenya: Hearthholds of mobile money in western Kenya. Econ. Anthropol. 3, 266–279. https://doi.org/10.1002/sea2.12055
  • Maurer, B., 2012. Mobile Money: Communication, Consumption and Change in the Payments Space. J. Dev. Stud. 48, 589–604. https://doi.org/10.1080/00220388.2011.621944
  • Nankwanga, A., Neema, S., Phillips, J., 2013. The Impact of HIV/AIDS on Older Persons in Uganda, in: Maharaj, P. (Ed.), Aging and Health in Africa. Springer US, Boston, MA, pp. 139–155. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4419-8357-2_7
  • Nzabona, A. and Ntozi, J. (2017) Does urban residence influence loneliness of older persons? Examining socio-demographic determinants in Uganda. Unpublished
  • Oppong, C., 2006. Familial Roles and Social Transformations: Older Men and Women in Sub-Saharan Africa. Res. Aging 28, 654–668. https://doi.org/10.1177/0164027506291744
  • Pype, K. (2017) ‘Smartness from Below’, in What do Science, Tehcnology and Innovation mean from Africa? eds Clapperton Chakanetsa Mavhunga. MIT Press
  • Van der Geest, S., 1997. Between respect and reciprocity: managing old age in rural Ghana. South. Afr. J. Gerontol. 6, 20–25. https://doi.org/10.21504/sajg.v6i2.116

Mothers and Daughters in Milan & beyond

ShireenWalton22 March 2019

Milan fieldwork, May 2018

Among the themes that have emerged from my research on ageing in Milan over the last 14 months, relationships between women and their Mothers have been particularly prominent. I have been exploring the significance of physical proximity, distance, and smartphones in examining how care is enacted in these relationships, amongst women of different ages and backgrounds. The following examples illustrate some aspects of this work.

Elena (55) and her 80-year old Mother, Maria, are both from a nearby northern Italian city where Maria lives alone following the death of her husband, Elena’s Father, three years ago. Elena, who is married, without children, lives and works full-time in Milan. Maria has a range of physical mobility issues, meaning that she is largely house-bound. She refuses to accept help from care workers (known as Badanti, in Italian, who are often from other countries), for the encroachment she says she feels this would pose to her autonomy. Maria does not appear to trust Badanti and dislikes the idea of ‘strangers’ inhabiting her home space so intimately: “These carers are caring for the money after all, are they not?” She explains. “For them it’s a job. They don’t really care”. The ‘real caring’, following Maria’s definitions, is carried out by her daughter Elena, who, not having any siblings, bears full responsibility for her Mother’s care. Maria does not have a smartphone, so Elena calls the house phone up to three times a day from Milan to check in. At the weekend, Elena drives the two-hour round trip to provide weekly shopping and carry out basic household chores. The two women share in each other’s company, and Elena will often stay overnight on the Saturday. Elena herself, back in Milan, faces a range of problems of her own, including pending unemployment, and a marriage under strain.

Photo (CC BY) Shireen Walton, Milan fieldwork.

Elena’s situation is not uncommon in Italy, and elsewhere. Studies have highlighted the anxiety, depression, and emotional strain often experienced amongst children, particularly daughters, who are primary carers for elderly parents (Amirkhanyan AA, Wolf DA. 2006). These pressures characterise, for instance, what has become known as the ‘Sandwich Generation’ (Chisholm 1999; Riley and Brown 2005) of presently middle-aged women caring ‘upwards’ to parents and ‘downwards’ to younger children. From Maria and Elena’s nigh-on co-dependent relationship, one sees how what makes ageing so complex and intense a social experience is how the physical conditions of ageing bring about the modulating of roles, without altogether subverting or eradicating existing ones. ‘At a certain point” Elena explains, “you swap – daughters become Mothers and vice versa.” The relationship in reality is not as clear-cut or one-directional as Elena’s swapping over analogy implies. Instead, the layering of the Mother-daughter relationships thickens, and intensifies as the denial of change sets in. Maria appears to be very much still “the Mamma” in charge of the family home, whilst Elena effectively ‘project manages’ her Mother’s care. Never actively acknowledged between the two women is how ageing has modulated their relationship.

Where international migration is involved, daughter-Mother relationships play out in different ways. Kemala is from a small village in North-East Indonesia. She came to Italy ten years ago to study and work. She now lives in Milan with her husband and two children. Despite the distance, Kemala feels deeply connected with her childhood upbringing in Indonesia, and particularly with her Mother, who at 75 still runs the rice-packing business she had established in the village forty years ago. Despite this, Kemala has always found the intense sociality of her natal village context stifling. The youngest of eight children, she felt, from an early age, a need to leave, by pursuing education and upwards social and transnational mobility. Kemala has returned to Indonesia with her young children, but is unable able to do this often. Kemala’s wariness towards “too much” hometown sociality is reflected in her WhatsApp usage. Strikingly aware of what constitutes her “equilibrio” (equilibrium), Kemala chooses when and how she participates on family WhatsApp groups. She responds on the transnational family group (consisting of over 30 people) only on important occasions such as select birthdays, or Eid. Knowing that this group exists however, and that “everyone is there”, she confesses, provides comfort to her being physically far. She speaks with her Mother one-two times a week via WhatsApp on her sister’s phone in the village, since her Mother does not have a smartphone.

Kemala engages in care, but on a crafted, individual basis that she deems important for maintaining her sense of balance between countries and socio-cultural groups. She explains how “the distance helps. It creates a kind of a safety barrier, and behind this barrier, I quietly live my life.” Kemala’s use of smartphones recalls in part Ahlin’s (2018) notion of ‘frequent calling’ in the ethnographic context of transnational Indian families, whereby regularly keeping in touch constitutes notions of ‘good care at a distance’. The frequency of calling with Kemala, however, is modulated by her notion of self-care. For Kemala, (self-)care is constituted through distance, or rather the smartphone’s socio-technological capacity for facilitating ‘distant-closeness’ (Van House 2007). Meanwhile, the pervasive guilt that Kemala feels about honouring her individual commitment to social distance, and in being physically away from her village and ageing relatives, shows up in her everyday life in Milan. Over the months of participating in community activities together, I notice how she breaks into tears at what appear to be the slightest things that link her to Indonesia, to her village culture, but especially to her Mother.

Photo (CC BY) Shireen Walton. Milan fieldwork.

As Kemala continues to crafts her life in the present, this is done at the intersection of her emotional proximity but physical distance to her kin and village, and her determination to facilitate the best life she can as a Mother herself to children born and growing up in Italy.

Elena, Kemala and their relationships with their Mothers reveal how individuals navigate their wellbeing in complex ways on– and offline via a range of practices rooted in kin relations, social-cultural contexts, and normative expectations. The smartphone, highly present for some, less so for others, facilitates a capacity for virtual presence, distant-closeness and ‘care at a distance’, while physical distance for some enables self-care in the pursuit of individual wellbeing. This is particularly significant in cases of co/dependent Mother-daughter relationships, and contexts of intense family and/or cultural sociality.

Milan fieldwork photos 2018-2019 (CC BY) Shireen Walton

Milan fieldwork photos 2018-2019 (CC BY) Shireen Walton

Milan fieldwork photos 2018-2019 (CC BY) Shireen Walton

References

Ahlin, T. (2018): Frequent Callers: “Good Care” with ICTs in Indian Transnational Families, Medical Anthropology, DOI: 10.1080/01459740.2018.1532424

Amirkhanyan AA, Wolf DA. (2006). Parent care and the stress process: Findings from panel data, The Journals of Gerontology Series B-Psychological Sciences and Social Sciences, 61(5): 248–255.

Chisholm, J. F. (1999). The Sandwich Generation. Journal of Social Distress and the Homeless, 8(3), 177-180.

Riley, L, D and Bowen, C. (2005). ‘The Sandwich Generation: Challenges and Coping Strategies of Multigenerational Families’. The Family Journal: Counselling and Therapy for Couples and Families. Vol 13., No.2. Pp.52-58

Van House, N. A. (2007). Flickr and Public Image-Sharing: Distant Closeness and Photo Exhibition. CHI’07 extended abstracts on human factors in computing systems, New York, ACM Press.

Drawing as ethnographic method

LauraHaapio-Kirk4 February 2019

Drawings made during a group interview about the smartphone.

The anthropological method of participant observation can only go so far when trying to understand the role of an object such as the smartphone in a person’s interior emotional life. The relationship a person has with their phone is deeply connected to the relationships that person has through their phone, to others and to themselves. Yet asking people about their relationship with their phone often yields limited responses: “It’s convenient for staying in touch”, “I rely on it for everything”. People take for granted that the smartphone is a helpful tool, but they typically have not considered their relationship to it specifically, and how it affects their relationships, behaviour, and identity, therefore I needed to find a way to have deeper discussions about the smartphone if I was to understand it in terms of affect. In order to explore the topic directly I thought that engaging informants in drawing might be a way to make the subject more tangible. I asked a group of middle-aged friends to make a two-minute sketch of their relationship with their smartphone, to bring to our next lunch date.

One of the members of the group has been undergoing chemotherapy for the past six months. While I was hoping that the drawing task would elicit reflection on the affective nature of the smartphone, I did not make that an explicit part of the instructions: I only asked if they could represent their relationship with their phone in a drawing. So I was delighted when this woman produced the most striking drawing out of the group, which shows her at the centre holding her smartphone surrounded by the range of ways she is emotionally affected by the smartphone in her daily life. She explained to me:

Especially while I have been sick, the smartphone has become very important to me. It is my connection to the outside world. The days following chemotherapy my body feels drained and I cannot leave the house. During that time if I receive a Line message or sticker from my friend I feel uplifted. But I can also feel sad and disappointed if I hear from my daughter that she is having relationship problems. When I am at the hospital having chemotherapy I watch films on Netflix and they often make me feel emotional. I also sometimes read surprising news stories. My smartphone makes me feel all of these things!

During this time of illness and potential loneliness, the smartphone offers an escape from her present situation to the world beyond.

“During treatment my smartphone connects me to the outside world”

It was striking that half of the drawings were based on a design of the individual at the centre, with feelings or behaviours or information radiating out. When we discussed this as a group, the majority of women said that they feel that the smartphone is the centre of their life (chuushin), some had even written the word on their drawings. They agreed that it is an object that is not only physically close to them but emotionally central too since it connects them with many of the important people and things in their lives. For many of the middle-aged people in my research, beyond this friendship group, shifting from garakei to smartphones meant an increase in dependency on the device for daily activities, from communicating with friends, to arranging nurse visits for their elderly parents, to booking shifts at work, to online banking. One woman told me:

I switched from my old garakei to my smartphone last year when my husband died and I needed to start being more independent. It has completely changed my life – I do everything with it. I recently went to Tokyo to visit my daughter and I would not have been able to do the trip without my smartphone and the maps app.

This increasing dependency on the smartphone was treated with ambivalence by some members of the friendship group in this case study. One woman explained that the smartphone is the centre of her life but she wishes that it was not, because it then becomes a kind of burden.

This idea of the smartphone as a burden was repeated when discussing another similarity between two of the drawings: both depicting the user sitting while looking at their smartphone. For these two women, rather than reply to messages in the middle of doing other activities such as while on the train or walking, they almost always wait to reply to messages when they have enough time to sit and focus only on the smartphone. They explained that they are not capable of multitasking, yet the burden of knowing that there are messages waiting to be replied to gives them the sense that the smartphone is taking too central a position in their lives. They often will not open messages unless they have the time to sit and reply, because they do not want the sender to see that they have read their message and subsequently feel ignored if they do not reply immediately. While the smartphone can increase a sense of burden for some relationships, for others it can ease the burden of care:

My father has a smartphone and he sends me messages all the time, so many of them! Because it is so easy to send messages he tells me what he is eating and what he is doing. Giving him a smartphone is a way that I can care for him when I am not physically there. Although I feel he sends too many messages, it is easy to reply to him with a sticker to show that I care. So while there is more frequent contact, it is less troublesome contact than a phone call which would be disruptive.”

This statement reveals the affective capacity of the smartphone to enable a new kind of care from a distance, which is perhaps even warmer than if it were face-to-face due to its less burdensome nature.

This visual methodological experiment provided a basis for a three-hour discussion of the smartphone. I plan to repeat this experiment with other informants as I think that the activity worked well for focusing a discussion. The participants were all interested to see how their drawings differed from everyone else’s, and they were far more interested in the topic of the smartphone than on previous occasions since they had already spent some time contemplating it beforehand. After the session a number of the women messaged me to say that they had come away from the experience with a deeper understanding and appreciation of the role of the smartphone in their lives. The active nature of drawing enabled people to discuss their affective experiences in a deeper way, and connected people to their feelings about the smartphone more successfully than discussion alone.

Nurse navigators and WhatsApp: an example of smartness from below

Alfonso ManuelOtaegui8 December 2018

Photo by Alfonso Otaegui

Within the scope of the project Anthropology of Smartphones and Smart Ageing (ASSA), we are committed to work collaboratively with a local mHealth initiative, or any initiative that will improve the access to healthcare or the wellbeing of the populations among whom we are carrying our fieldwork.

At the beginning, before even starting my fieldwork, I envisioned this initiative as the creation and implementation of a bespoke mHealth app, which would respond to a necessity observed in the field. This approach implied spotting a gap in the site –a need not yet addressed but noticed by the ethnographer– and creating an app which would fill that gap. It was certainly a top-down implementation approach: I would give the users something they needed but were not aware they needed.

After a couple of months, I realized it would be wiser to simply describe an app people already used in a creative way, and bring this local idea to another place, where this idea could be helpful. This approach, which could be described as ‘bottom-up’, implies acknowledging the creativity of local populations in the adoption of communication technologies, what Pype (2017) names ‘smartness from below’. With the same aim of bringing good ideas from one place to another, we have also started in our team to build up a list of ‘best practices’ in healthcare throughout all of our field sites.

With this aim in mind, I will spend the last six months of my fieldwork in Santiago doing ethnography at an oncological center in a public hospital. This particular hospital is the only public one in Santiago having implemented a ‘nurse navigator’ model of healthcare (Devine 2017).

The navigator nurses work as mediators between oncological patients and the medical and bureaucratical system of a public hospital in a low-income area. Cancer treatments mean two complexities for the patient: the medical complexity of the treatment and the bureaucracy of the public health system. Different cancer treatments can have several effects on different systems of the body, so managing the treatment implies handling a lot of information. The treatment is based on a series of procedures (image exams, chemotherapy sessions, blood tests, etc.) which require prescriptions and appointments, and have to be carried out in a specific order, and in certain amount of time (otherwise the probabilities of success decline). Navigator nurses actually manage the treatment for the patient, as they have the expertise to deal with both kind of complexities.

According to oncologist Bruno Nervi, president of the foundation Chile sin Cancer (‘Chile without cancer’), there are around 100 oncologists in Chile, when 400 are needed (55.000 people are diagnosed with cancer every year) (‘La Fundación Chile sin cáncer (…)’ 2018). Given the high number of patients, oncologists do not have the time to explain all the details of the treatment. The nurses working at the chemotherapy room face the same problem, as they try to fit in as many patients on a day as possible. The nurse navigators then, fill in this gap by educating the patient on the details of the disease and its treatment and mediate between the patient and the complex bureaucratical system of public healthcare in Chile. They make all the appointments for exams, blood tests and the like –which requires a lot of paperwork– and stay in touch with patient in case this has any doubt or question. These dedicated nurses constitute a human factor in healthcare that no app can replace. The nurse navigators, however, do use an app that is the most commonly used messaging app amongst patients: WhatsApp. According to the navigator nurses, WhatsApp gives them the chance to use various means of communication depending on the particularities and necessities of every patient: some prefer a phone call, some other need to see the info written in a text message, other will be reassured if they see a picture of the prescription or an exam order, some need an audio message they can listen to several times in order to understand the meaning (most of the patients are low-income people with low levels of education). Besides, nurse navigators are available for the patients for any doubt or question they might have. These nurses are there for them, to answer their questions and to comfort them, as the treatment and this relation of distant care can last for years.

Daniel Miller, principal investigator of the ASSA project, recommended in his last book ‘The Comfort of People’ on hospice patients and the use of new media, that it would important to create a patient/carer charter of new media use (2017: 218). The usage of WhatsApp by these nurse navigators actually follows a protocol which developed out of their experience in the last couple of years. I will attempt to describe this protocol and app usage and build up a model. I really hope it will be possible to bring this locally developed good idea to other public hospitals in Chile.

References

Devine, A. (2017, April 3). The Nurse Navigator: A Patient’s Compass On The Healthcare Journey. Retrieved from https://nurse.org/articles/nurse-navigator-career-path-salary-job-description/

La Fundación Chile sin cáncer y su contribución para cambiar la historia del cáncer en Chile. (2018, October 15). Retrieved from https://www.uc.cl/es/la-universidad/noticias/31765-la-fundacion-chilesincancer-y-su-contribucion-para-cambiar-la-historia-del-cancer-en-chile

Miller, D. (2017). The Comfort of People. Cambridge: Polity Press.

Pype, K. (2017). Smartness from Below: Variations on Technology and Creativity in Contemporary Kinshasa. In C. C. Mavhunga (Ed.), What Do Science, Technology, and Innovation Mean from Africa? (pp. 97–115). Cambridge, Massachussetts: The MIT Press.

Empty nesters and ‘under-occupied’ homes — by Pauline Garvey

LauraHaapio-Kirk14 October 2018

Quinn, David 17/04/15, If grandparents went on strike, we would all be sunk, The Irish Independent, available electronically as https://www.independent.ie/opinion/if-grandparents-went-on-strike-we-would-all-be-sunk-31149507.html

Amongst the proposals for the recent Irish budget 2018, government ministers looked to the grey vote and weighed up options for a grandparent grant, reported on in the media as the ‘granny grant’.  The idea was advocated by Minister for Transport, Tourism and Sport, Shane Ross, who calculated that 70,000 grandparents could be eligible for the grant, costing the state €71 million a year. The proposal was based on the widespread recognition that grandparents undertake a substantial burden in a country where childcare is exorbitantly expensive and state subsidies limited. Many young couples turn to their retired parents to look after their offspring, and these grandparents undertake their labour often in their own homes. A study from 2015 found that 60% of grandparents looked after their grandchildren once a month, while one in five looked after them more than 60 hours per month.

At the same moment as talks of the granny grant circulated however, the same minister argued in favour of introducing a ‘granny-flat grant’ in order to encourage older people to transform the upper floors of their houses and rent them to lodgers, thus contributing to the housing pool and giving elderly householders a source of income. Piloted in one house in north Dublin, the granny-flat grant is far more controversial among people I meet in the course of my fieldwork.

One woman complained that it is seemingly fine for grandparents to bear the brunt of childcare but somehow their undisputed rights to their own home is cast in doubt. As she said ‘my parents worked their whole lives and paid tax, as did I. I inherited this house and paid for its upkeep from my wages since I started working fifty years ago. But now “the boys” are talking of taking my first floor?’

Another woman commented that the logistics of building a kitchen and finding a suitable tenant seemed a daunting task. While a third pointed out that ‘no one expects a 40-year old singleton in a 3-bedroom house to downsize, so why should I?’ In media reports there is no sign that the search for ‘under-occupied’ houses includes all spacious residences in the state, but instead focuses squarely on the homes of the elderly, and occasionally those in social housing. One question that this prompts is why does the idea of under-occupied housing seem to apply only to the elderly, leading some of my research respondents to feel that their right to their own homes diminishes with every passing decade?

Togetherness is Strength: “making light the heaviness on one person” – by Charlotte Hawkins

ShireenWalton1 October 2018

Author: Charlotte Hawkins

The ASSA project is concerned with older people’s experiences, particularly related to health, and the impact of mobile phones on their lives. In Godown, my fieldsite in Kampala, this translates to a focus on the ways older people mobilise support for the health of an individual across family and community networks. Throughout Uganda, savings groups are a notable model of community support for individual health, popular particularly amongst the urban poor (Nakirya and State, 2013). Typically, a group of people meet weekly to save money together, with an opportunity take small loans from the savings. The Ugandan government have recently started to encourage savings groups “as a way of pooling resources together in order to facilitate development”[1].

To better understand the nature of community support in Godown, I’ve registered as an active participant of a savings group of 15 members, predominantly older men, all from Acholiland in Northern Uganda. The group name translates to ‘Togetherness is Strength’ and was founded by a group of community elders after a child was stillborn at the local government hospital; the child’s father had struggled to fund the transportation for the burial in his home village in Northern Uganda, “he had to pool resources within the night, so he saw it was a very big challenge if we had not helped him. So that was the birth of the group”. Over 5 years, the fund has accumulated about 20 million Ugandan shillings ($5250), which means there’s now a collective resource for emergency loans. As explained by the group Treasurer, this is particularly useful in times of poor health, “in our community, the income levels are very low, so in the event of one of them falling sick, he cannot even feed himself”. They also recently bought one young man a motorcycle for business purposes, which he pays off in monthly instalments with interest, later to be shared amongst the group. Every Sunday morning, they hold a meeting in a local bar, in which savings are counted and group elders advise their younger members (see image below).

Savings group meeting in Godown. Image (CC BY) project PI Daniel Miller

Whilst ensuring monthly contributions and loan repayments are maintained can be a challenge, the group represents the possibility of security through mutual collaboration, fundamental to individual, family and community health in Godown more broadly. As explained by the Vice Chairman, it is a “means of assisting ourselves, in times of grievance or happiness. We thought we should come together to form an association and make light the heaviness on one person.” Amidst conditions of socioeconomic precarity, savings groups such as this offer a form of risk mitigation through social insurance. There meets the traditional (ritual, conviviality, group solidarity) and the economic (financial and legal obligation, commercial organization) (Ardener, 1964: 222) ideals of this community, manifesting the experience of elder-led ‘togetherness’ in Godown.

Savings group meeting in Godown. Photo (CC BY) Charlotte Hawkins

References:

  • Ardener, S., 1964. The Comparative Study of Rotating Credit Associations. J. R. Anthropol. Inst. G. B. Irel. 94, 201.
  • Nakirya, J.W., State, A.E., 2013. “Nigiina”s as Coping Mechanisms of Peri-urban Low-income Mothers in Kampala, Uganda. East. Afr. Soc. Sci. Res. Rev. 29, 31–57.

[1] https://www.newvision.co.ug/new_vision/news/1485733/museveni-tours-kampala-wakiso, accessed 15.09.18