One Work Day

I’ve had several friends ask about my work, which is a difficult subject to address because there have been so many downs and few ups regarding it. So I’ll relay what happened yesterday.

I went to a meeting composed of a delegation from Georgia representing CARE International in the Caucasus, CARD (Center for Agribusiness and Rural Development funded by USAID) from Armenia and several NGO (non-profit non-governmental organization) representatives. There were approximately thirty participants. The meeting was in Russian because it was the common language between the Georgians and the Armenians. A few people translated for me. The purpose of the meeting was “increased cross-border cooperation for sustainable rural development.” CARE is considering re-entering Armenia to facilitate rural development projects.

After lunch we went to visit a milk collection and cooling point which is part of a farmers union. The farmer in charge had been told that we were coming. When we arrived, the farmer and a few buddies had to push a welded-together vehicle, which they had been repairing, out of the small building so that we could see the cooling tank. The project had been funded by CARD. The inside of the building was filthy with dirt, a lot of engine grease, and a water hose (used to clean the tank?) lying in the grease. The cooling tank at the end of the building was empty because they had not been able to collect the milk yet that day. It also did not appear clean. I have toured the Carnation Dairy plant and the Alpenrose plant in Portland and remember pristine conditions and gleaming tanks.

I asked a ton of questions and received a lot of answers that I question. The milk is collected by the broken-down vehicle from eight points in the area. Two to three hundred cows are milked by farmers who then deliver this milk to one of the eight collection points twice a day. The milk is collected in these large white plastic containers (about 3 ½ feet tall by 2 ½ feet) and then is picked up by the collection vehicle and brought to the cooling point. Three times a week the milk is picked up from the cooling point by a major milk processor from Yerevan. The cooling point is paid twice a month by the milk processor and then the profits are distributed to the farmers. I was reeling as I thought about the inefficiency of the operation, the lack of quality control, the dirtiness of the operation, and all the food safety issues. The operation made no sense to me from a sustainability issue or as a step into the 20th Century for these farmers.

Which brings me back to lunch: Several weeks ago there was a television report regarding a wedding party at a restaurant in Gyumri where thirty participants went to the hospital for severe food poisoning and another ten were sent to Yerevan for especially severe problems. The news said that the problems arose from the salads. Our lunch was at a restaurant and there were two salads that did not look fresh, both with chicken and mayonnaise. So I could not eat them. Food safety is a huge issue in Armenia in my mind. The meat conditions at the local market are appalling and any American would be horrified at the way that bread is handled. (Never wrapped and pawed over by the producers, deliverers, food store clerks, and families. I’ve seen it dropped in the stores and put back on the shelves. But I’m alive. What else can be said?)

After this visit, we went to a manufacturing facility which is an NGO funded by several Americans (about 100 individuals and groups were listed) in 1989. This plant makes furniture, doors, windows, concrete building blocks, and pavers. I have visited and worked in dozens of similar manufacturing operations in the US. The building blocks were nearly identical to the ones I’ve handled in Mexico when volunteering with Esperanza in housing projects, except that they were available in colors (red, yellow, white, and the normal grey concrete color.) The furniture manufacturing area produced low-end desks, cabinets, doors, and chairs. There was a cloud of wood dust with no suction equipment to get rid of it and the workers were not wearing masks. There appeared to be no safety mechanisms on the cutting equipment, and lacquer was applied manually. There was no lacquer booth or spray equipment and no ventilation system was visible. Outside there was a huge wood drying kiln manufactured by a Portland, OR company. I was surprised by the humidity in the kiln.

In the block manufacturing building there was a large mixing machine where the sand, gravel, iron oxide (yellow) and concrete were conveyed up large belts to the opening and then to a machine composed of molds, cutters, and drying racks.

I had several impressions. The facilities were severely under-utilized, something that no company could afford in the US. It appeared that the equipment had not been updated since the initial installation. There was no new equipment. I saw no sign of re-investment. When I asked how the company marketed its products, since I visit lots of stores in Gyumri and had never seen them, I was told that they show in trade fairs. They do not advertise on television or have effective printed materials. I know from my past life that trade shows for building products are a very ineffective means of promotion. The big surprise was that the company is ISO9001 certified by a body I did not recognize. I am not sure that these kinds of projects, funded by generous American donors, are helping Armenia in any effective way. I see waste, poor management, poor promotion, and a business culture that is not helping the country. Where is the incentive for these companies that are funded by donations to improve?

My NGO organization would like to be involved in CARE’s entry into Armenia to promote local development. I’m not sure what my role will be. There are so many needs in this country and most projects funded by the US Government or individuals do not appear to be successes if we measure success by measuring sustainability and improvements to the country. Many projects revisited five years after implementation are failures.