Responding to an expression of interest from Stanford University Press, for its forthcoming series on Anthropology of Policy (see http://www.sup.org/anthropolicy/), Ishya Consulting's Managing Director Dr. Catherine Honeyman has submitted a book manuscript based on five years of research on entrepreneurship education in Rwanda. The manuscript, tentatively titled Educating the Orderly Entrepreneur: Creativity, Credentials, and Controls in Rwanda's Post-Developmental State, is currently under editorial review. Following is an excerpt from the book Preface: "After sunset, when Kigali comes alive with all of the people
returning home from work, there is always a group of women waiting in the
shadows at the major intersection closest to my home. Standing outside the
shops, they search for clients among the people and vehicles that fill the
streets. But before you jump to the wrong conclusion, I should
clarify—these women have quite an innocent occupation. They sell fruit:
pineapples with juice dripping down their sides, neatly tied bags of passion
fruit and tree tomatoes, shiny green imported apples, golden-skinned finger
bananas… Except that, these days, these products are rarely visible
at the intersection. Linger in the crowd with me for a few minutes when the local
police are around, and this is what you will see: with empty hands, these women
dash to each car that pulls up, asking if the occupants would like to buy their
fruit. If they find a potential client, they dash back through a worn-looking
door, tucked back in the shadows beside the more-established shops. A few
moments later, they emerge again, running with fruit in hand, hoping to make
their sale before the buyer loses interest and drives on. Along the way, these
women often glance over their shoulders for the police. This is not how it used to be. At one time, the side of the
road at this intersection was crowded with women carrying their sweet-smelling
merchandise in wide baskets atop their heads and in woven bags slung over each
arm. Near them, you could always find a young man or two selling sweets and
biscuits from a cardboard box. Needed to clean the dust off your shoes before
venturing into town? Someone was always carrying around packages of tissues for
100 francs each. Once a characteristic image of street life just about
anywhere on the African continent, this sort of scene has almost disappeared in
Rwanda. Street businesses have been tidied up, brought into the formal market, and
are required to have a fixed and formal place of business. Prepared foods must
be properly labeled and inspected for consumer safety; motorcycle taxi drivers
must belong to a cooperative, wear numbered uniforms, and provide helmets; all
businesses must register, obtain a license, and become part of the tax system. These are all sensible regulations, arguably modeled on the
way things work in many developed economies. And in Rwanda, they are enforced
with increasing effectiveness each year. This is Rwanda’s contemporary
aesthetic of entrepreneurship, of national progress: clean streets, orderly
businesses, everything registered and known—an orderly and regulated form of
self-reliance from the broadest policies down to the tiniest details. In Rwanda, in other words, the streetside “lemonade stand” wouldn’t be
considered an iconic and positive image of the youthful entrepreneur—it would
just be disorderly conduct, plain and simple. And yet the Rwandan government is
in favor of youth entrepreneurship. Highly in favor, in fact [...]" |
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