Selection
I am sitting on a wooden chair in front of a semi-circle of village members who have settled onto straw and dirt. I dislike the feeling of being placed on a throne. A BRAC employee, an interviewer, stands over a chalk outline of the village’s borders. Today is Social Mapping day in the Targeting the Ultra Poor program schedule, and the same process repeats in each village BRAC selects. We watch the covert operation; BRAC has told villagers that they are collecting information for a government survey, not for poverty programs, as any mention of aid could inspire deception about people’s assets. Everyone here qualifies as poor, but BRAC wants to identify the truly destitute, the people who cannot take advantage even of the most basic microfinance programs.
The interviewer—in his blue-grey dress shirt, dark khakis, and leather shoes—begins to place cards in dirt around the chalk, using color-coded takes to signify economic status. Assts, land, number of deceased family members. A small white chicken wanders through the group, and small children clamber over adults who wear saris or, for the men, wrap-around skirts. It’s difficult to determine the gender of kids, as they all wear shorts and nothing else, their hair shorn short and earrings the only clue about which are girls. Several of the boys have rounded stomachs, and I don’t know if that signals their families are better off, or worse. I’ve only just noticed that all the men sit on one side of the circle, and all the women on the other. I lean toward Steven to whisper something near his ear, and then I think better of the proximity.
The interviewer—in his blue-grey dress shirt, dark khakis, and leather shoes—begins to place cards in dirt around the chalk, using color-coded takes to signify economic status. Assts, land, number of deceased family members. A small white chicken wanders through the group, and small children clamber over adults who wear saris or, for the men, wrap-around skirts. It’s difficult to determine the gender of kids, as they all wear shorts and nothing else, their hair shorn short and earrings the only clue about which are girls. Several of the boys have rounded stomachs, and I don’t know if that signals their families are better off, or worse. I’ve only just noticed that all the men sit on one side of the circle, and all the women on the other. I lean toward Steven to whisper something near his ear, and then I think better of the proximity.
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