Dhaka is the world’s most densely populated city and seems determined to prove it yard by yard as we head across to Grameen head office for day one. I’m in a CNG, a green cage attached to a two stroke motor bike, heading past a kid goat, into jolting swerving traffic. In the chaos, everyone’s aware of each other as we can only imagine in sedated sat nav-ed Sydney. The fog lingers and I can just make out the ads for apartments and political posters and the omnipresent spunky billboarded face of Cristiano Ronaldo flogging ‘Clear’ shampoo on every boulevarde.
We arrive at Mirpur 2, and the CNG is refused entry to the compound. CNG is ‘compressed natural gas’ – Bangladesh’s most valuable resource. The outstrectched arms and ever smiling face of Professor Yunus greet us at the gate along with well armed guards and one of those security check mirrors on a stick goes under the CNG. The streets of Dhaka are not quite neat and tidy, so the driveway display of healthy marigolds is a jolt. My neck cranes 22 storeys to survey the might of Grameen. From $27 lent to a few folk in Jobra 30 odd years ago to this: one of the tallest buildings in the modest Dhaka skyline. Is this grandeur at odds with fighting poverty fighting or a willful statement: we are serious and you will take us seriously.
Once inside the building it feels like a state government department in the late 1970s, perhaps the Land Titles Office. The image of Yunus is everywhere, like a Guru, like a Mao, like a genial Mr Burns. It’s his company, no mistake – and his energizing, wide, healthy, often beaming face is in every room.
I am greeted by Harun – my co-ordinator from the International Program – on the 8th floor – where the curious, worthy and passionate gather from all round the planet – a law student from Kolkata, a couple from Rhode Island who’ve just started their own microcredit program, and a psychology professor from Bologna, among others darting between the desks and fat old computer monitors.
The tuition begins. No powerpoint. Hussar! Harun, who’s done his time as a branch manager, sits down with me and Novonil, from Kolkata, and begins to teach us the Grameen way. ‘Questions are good. If you ask me questions, I know we are getting somewhere’. It’s the Socratic method.
Harun explains the Grameen philosophy, operation and method. ‘Without the group, there is no head office’. Grameen knows where its heart and its business lies, in the groups of 5 or so folk, mainly women who form the base of the Grameen pyramid. There is no embarrassment about this hierarchy, it is the source of clarity and pride in the bank. Harun largely repeats the text of Banker of the Poor, but he tells me that Grameen is the only MFI in Bangladesh with a banking licence – the only one that can take deposits. What an achievement. From zero to this. I am all ears. We watch some videos. A read some pamphlets. But the story lies elsewhere, out in the villages. And tomorrow that’s where we head for a taster.
Day One – Grameen HQ
Dhaka is the world’s most densely populated city and seems determined to prove it yard by yard as we head across to Grameen head office for day one. I’m in a CNG, a green cage attached to a two stroke motor bike, heading past a kid goat, into jolting swerving traffic. In the chaos, everyone’s aware of each other as we can only imagine in sedated sat nav-ed Sydney. The fog lingers and I can just make out the ads for apartments and political posters and the omnipresent spunky billboarded face of Cristiano Ronaldo flogging ‘Clear’ shampoo on every boulevarde.
We arrive at Mirpur 2, and the CNG is refused entry to the compound. CNG is ‘compressed natural gas’ – Bangladesh’s most valuable resource. The outstrectched arms and ever smiling face of Professor Yunus greet us at the gate along with well armed guards and one of those security check mirrors on a stick goes under the CNG. The streets of Dhaka are not quite neat and tidy, so the driveway display of healthy marigolds is a jolt. My neck cranes 22 storeys to survey the might of Grameen. From $27 lent to a few folk in Jobra 30 odd years ago to this: one of the tallest buildings in the modest Dhaka skyline. Is this grandeur at odds with fighting poverty fighting or a willful statement: we are serious and you will take us seriously.
Once inside the building it feels like a state government department in the late 1970s, perhaps the Land Titles Office. The image of Yunus is everywhere, like a Guru, like a Mao, like a genial Mr Burns. It’s his company, no mistake – and his energizing, wide, healthy, often beaming face is in every room.
I am greeted by Harun – my co-ordinator from the International Program – on the 8th floor – where the curious, worthy and passionate gather from all round the planet – a law student from Kolkata, a couple from Rhode Island who’ve just started their own microcredit program, and a psychology professor from Bologna, among others darting between the desks and fat old computer monitors.
The tuition begins. No powerpoint. Hussar! Harun, who’s done his time as a branch manager, sits down with me and Novonil, from Kolkata, and begins to teach us the Grameen way. ‘Questions are good. If you ask me questions, I know we are getting somewhere’. It’s the Socratic method.
Harun explains the Grameen philosophy, operation and method. ‘Without the group, there is no head office’. Grameen knows where its heart and its business lies, in the groups of 5 or so folk, mainly women who form the base of the Grameen pyramid. There is no embarrassment about this hierarchy, it is the source of clarity and pride in the bank. Harun largely repeats the text of Banker of the Poor, but he tells me that Grameen is the only MFI in Bangladesh with a banking licence – the only one that can take deposits. What an achievement. From zero to this. I am all ears. We watch some videos. A read some pamphlets. But the story lies elsewhere, out in the villages. And tomorrow that’s where we head for a taster.