Landing a few big ones

I’ve been yammering about a new crop of stories for a few posts so I thought I’d share how I snagged them in the first place. I think I’ll try to take you through chronologically using some actual correspondence. It’s like a front row seat to a really boring process!

I’m working on three stories at the moment, all for one magazine. I’m going to keep this anonymous, since none of the stories have been published. Bear with me on the behind-enemy-lines style censorship. This all began when, after the first story I wrote for this magazine had gone through edits and art, I sent a wrap up email to the editor I’d been working with:

Hi XXXXX,

That seems pretty standard. And it accomplished a few things: it gave closure to the whole editing process, which is never a start-then-stop thing, it led to me getting proper invoicing info, and it indirectly (and tactfully) posed a question: based on the story I just wrote and our relationship during that time, am I someone you’d like to work with again? That’s sort of the million dollar curiosity for a freelancer, both from financial necessity and plain ol’ ego. Happily, the editor replied that he’d definitely like to work with me again and he followed that email with another that had two very broad topics that he thought might make interesting stories: creative innovations coming out of slums and organic agriculture feeding the world. He had a few links to give me an idea of what he meant. He asked me if I had time to root around for a possible narrative. Sweet.

After I got a-rooting, I came across a story. It didn’t get to the organic agriculture stuff, but it had tie-ins to Brazilian factory farming and left the door open for more reporting. Keep in mind that this pitch was sent to an interested editor who had solicited the idea from me. I mention that because, unlike a normal pitch, I felt like this one didn’t need the immediate sexy hook and could take its time developing the ideas. I wouldn’t send something this dense to an editor blind:

Hi XXXXX,

I’ve had a chance to do some research and I came across a compelling story.

Brazil’s farms have received a lot of press lately. The cerrado, or savannah region, has changed rapidly in the last decade as agricultural advances have made previously overlooked land arable. Soy in particular has made Brazil one of the world’s agricultural powerhouses, challenging the dominance of U.S. soy production.

But reactions are mixed. Some praise the cerrado techniques as nothing short of revolutionary, a model that might be adapted in areas of Africa and India where population growth and infertile land have contributed to famine (here). On the other hand, agricultural expansion into the cerrado has had devastating effects on one of the most unique ecosystems in the world (here). Monoculture and genetically modified crops, along with heavy infusions of fertilizers and chemicals to control natural soil acidity, are raising serious questions about the sustainability of development. The cerrado expansion is also being steered by huge conglomerates like Cargill and Monsanto, decidedly profit-driven outfits for whom an agricultural revolution has little to do with world hunger (much of the soy they produce is used in bio-fuels and as feed for livestock). Writer Pat Joseph toured the cerrado and did a good job confronting the ethical conundrum in this article in Virginia Quarterly. I found several other articles that draw a variety of conclusions but cover more or less the same ground. This is a fascinating story, but in its broadest form, it’s a story that has been well reported.

Following the trail a little further, I found another chapter in all this that has received far less coverage. The “revolution,” though decidedly Brazilian, hasn’t been confined to Brazil. About 80% of the cerrado (so vast that it covers more than 20% of Brazil) has already been converted to farms or pastureland. With space running out—and with environmental groups pushing heavier regulation—Brazilian and American agro conglomerates have literally begun overflowing into surrounding countries. Farming techniques developed on the cerrado (recovering untenable soil, genetically modified strains, agro-economies of scale) are now being implemented in neighboring Paraguay, Argentina, and Bolivia.

Paraguay in particular stands out. Between 1997 and 2007, soy production increased five-fold in Paraguay. Soy now accounts for more than 50% of the country’s exports. Paraguay’s economy grew 14.5% in 2010, an incredible statistic given the state of the global economy. But here’s the catch: the number of poor people in Paraguay also grew, from 35% of the population in 2009 to 37% last year. The soy boom has not benefited the majority of Paraguayans. In fact, Paraguay remains one of the ten most unequal countries in the world in terms of land ownership. Here’s why: of the 600,000 soybean growers in Paraguay, only 24% are Paraguayan. About 40% are Brazilian and the rest are conglomerates from countries like the U.S., Germany, and Japan. And in Paraguay, the arrival of these conglomerates, replicating the efficient methods and scale proven in Brazil, have contributed to the overwhelming displacement ofcampesinos, small farmers who traditionally worked the countryside (here). In line with global patterns of displacement, the campesinoshave made their way to settlements on the outskirts of big cities. A large number of the displaced have ended up in a slum called Bañados outside of Asuncion, Paraguay’s capital.

This is a sad narrative, but it is here, against this backdrop, that I want to pick up the story. Something innovative has been happening in one sector of Bañados. In a ragged stretch where landless campesinos fight a swelling river each year, some of the poorest families on earth have access to affordable healthcare, a low-cost pharmacy, a soup kitchen. Children benefit from tutoring and adults from skills classes. Bañados is home to a micro credit program that lends tens of thousands of dollars each year and has a payback rate in excess of 97%, all of it executed without the formality of contracts or government oversight. There are social workers, conflict resolution channels, and an operational judicial system. In other words, amid the most grinding poverty imaginable there is a functioning society. And all of it, from lending networks to healthcare administration to a form of neighborhood tax collection, is self-directed, conceived of and run by a coalition of about 1000 families who have no government mandate.

The coalition, largely a response to a feckless government and an unjust land distribution system, is known as CAMSAT (Center of Mutual Help “Health for All”). Founded twenty years ago by a Spanish priest, CAMSAT was dreamed up as a community-run healthcare program for an area whose unemployment rate hovers around 85%. It has become a de facto government, only better. The families of CAMSAT have divided their barrio into eight zones, each of which has its own coordinator and a number of community-appointed delegates. These delegates convene several times per year in a kind of general assembly. The coalition, like a government, has no guiding objectives other than the welfare and betterment of the neighborhood’s residents. Goals and target areas change as the community’s needs change, and these give rise to specific programs and initiatives. Families who are part of CAMSAT—and more than 50% of families in this barrio in southern Bañados are—pay a monthly quota on the order of $0.03, which subsidizes these programs. So efficient, transparent, and well-run is this organization that the United Nations Development Programme, in a 2007 report, stated that CAMSAT is a model of community development and organizing against poverty.

I propose to go to Bañados to write about this incredible community. Against the backdrop of a debate over new agricultural techniques in Brazil, and in the shadow of a recent Paraguayan dictatorship and a current crisis of government mismanagement, I want to bring the story of CAMSAT to life by focusing on the individuals who are responsible for its success. While there are a number of ways this story might be told, the approach that comes to mind is a narrative profile of CAMSAT’s founder, Father Pedro Velasco. My initial research has revealed very little English-language coverage of the topic. The best English resources I’ve come across are this essay, which is a translation of a piece written by Spanish journalist Raúl Zibechi, and this short video, which does an excellent job telling the story behind the displacement. 

I would love to bring this story to a broader audience, XXXXX. If the topic appeals to you, I’d like to take the following steps:

• draw up a list of anticipated expenses
• make initial contact with CAMSAT members and relevant sources in Paraguay
• begin discussing the approach to and shape of the story

I’m of course happy to answer any questions you have and I’m eager to hear your thoughts about the idea. I think the topic fits well with XXXXXX’s positive ethos and with its willingness to grapple with the complexities and pitfalls of the modern age. I’m available anytime to speak on the phone or over email.

Thanks, XXXX. I’m excited about this story and would love to work on it for XXXXXX.

Best,

Greg

See what I mean? A long pitch, but one that shows I did my research and have a story. He liked the idea and said, pending approval of expenses, they’d send me to Paraguay to see it through. And then he said, “now about the two stories I asked for in the first place …” He asked me to keep rooting around. Here’s what I came back to him with on the creative slums front:

The idea behind local currency is simple. Special notes, backed by neighborhood banks, are printed in the community. Local retailers choose whether to accept these notes. Those that do accept them offer discounts on merchandise to people using the new currency—an incentive for the consumer. In return, money that had been flowing out, either because commuters were spending elsewhere or because large retail chains were encroaching on local enterprise, stays in the community. Retailers benefit from increased volume, consumers from cheaper goods, and the community from strengthened business zones that boost local employment and keep buildings occupied. The Wall Street Journal article you sent does a good job summarizing this system by focusing on the barrio of Silva Jardim, where local currency has been in circulation for about a year.

At the end of the Wall Street Journal article, the author mentions Cidade de Deus (City ofGod), another favela that began circulating its own currency in September. As the article points out, the 5 CCD note carries the likeness of Benta Neves do Nascimento, a 78-year-old community activist. It turns out that all but one of the notes carry pictures of inspirational locals. The 2 CCD note uses the image of João Batista, who created an NGO to help malnourished children and teenagers. The 10 CCD carries the likeness of Julio Grooten, a Dutch priest who established a day care center and built an influential local church. Both Batista and Grooten have passed on, but Nascimento is still working hard for her community, as is Geralda Maria de Jesus, the 82 year-old on the 1 CCD note who has lived in Cidade de Deus since its founding. With these two women, I see an opportunity for a story that picks up where the WSJ article left off.

I propose to use the new CCD currency as a frame to do a person-centered piece about the history of activism and enterprise in Cidade de Deus, once considered one of the most dangerous favelas inRio de Janeiro. The story offers unique narrative possibilities—the two living women honored on the bills account for the entire history of Cidade de Deus, made famous outside ofBrazilby the wrenching movie “City ofGod.” This was the second favela in Rio to be “pacified” in advance of the Olympics and World Cup and is now considered a touchstone in the local and national fight to buoyBrazil’s informal settlements. The piece will not be a complete historical account of the area, but rather will examine the implementation of local currency and community banking against the backdrop of a history of activism that made it possible.

Though it’s tough to pin down a specific outline without on-the-ground reporting, a general approach might look like this:

1. Anecdotal lead about new currency (currency in use or the printing process, for example)
2. Nut graph
3. Women on the currency—an introduction to Geralda Maria de Jesus, who helped found Ciudade de Deus
   1. historical section that uses this woman as the intriguing central character and puts the neighborhood in context (founding, reasons and scope of violence, challenges, etc.)
   2. this section sets the stakes by showing how difficult things were, showing what it means that this community can now have a local economy
4. The idea for local currency—stepping back to look at the process of developing a local currency in Cidade de Deus
5. How the community got to this point—an introduction to Benta Neves do Nascimento, the other woman on the currency and one of Cidade de Deus’ prominent activists
   1. this section bridges the history we got in section III with the implementation of local currency in 2011. Again, the use of a strong central character gives me the opportunity to show community activism (particularly Benta’s NGO) and innovation instead of simply recounting it
6. The currency in use, looking ahead, local reactions, broader implications, etc.

For more information, here’s a link to an article that gives a bit of background about the new currency and introduces these two women: http://infosurhoy.com/cocoon/saii/xhtml/en_GB/features/saii/features/main/2011/09/27/feature-01. As always, please let me know if you have any questions.

The editor liked this a lot, but he thought it might be a good idea to broaden this specific case study and use it to get at the bigger idea of creativity coming out of these areas (which is probably what he was asking for all along … something I maybe should have recognized). So, back to the drawing board. I came up with a modified pitch. Meanwhile we spoke over Skype about the organic agriculture piece. I had done some initial interviews with some obvious sources on the organic agriculture scene (are you an organic agriculture scenester, by any chance?). The editor liked that approach and gave me some room to start reporting the topic out until I found a specific story. I traveled to Paraguay in the interim (expenses were approved) and wrote that story. Total blast. Here’s the final slum innovation proposal, which he wanted in the form of an outline and which he green lighted last week. I’ve switched directions a bit since then, but this captures the main idea (forgive the formatting, which seems to be getting jumbled).

Creative Problem Solving in Slums

Slums, barrios, and urban settlements are being recognized as bastions of creativity and enterprise. In the face of unique challenges associated with poverty, overpopulation, and inadequate health and education resources, urban populations have had to think beyond traditional models. While the developed world has long viewed impoverished urban centers as peripheral, even onerous, growing recognition of the creativity emerging from these areas has sparked new interest in their makeup and potential. For the first time the question is being asked: What can people and communities who reside in slums teach the rest of the world?

1. Shack/Slum Dwellers International (SDI) is an organization and distribution network devoted to sharing and promoting the creative problem solving emerging from urban centers. The piece will open with a recap of the institutional recognition that solutions were showing up in unexpected places and that these solutions could have utility elsewhere. This philosophy is also reflected in the UN exhibition Design with the other 90%: Cities.
2. Nut graph: There is a new recognition of the creative solutions coming out of slums and a new push to identify and share that information in both the developing and developed worlds. The nut graph will present three concepts that will then make up the remaining architecture of the piece: creative solutions arise from difficult circumstances; outside organizations can help unlock the creative potential that exists within urban communities; networks can help share this information with the developing and developed worlds
3. Case studies: Each of the three case studies will elaborate on one of the concepts listed above

a)      Slum 1: An illustration of how a set of extreme urban circumstances gives rise to an innovative solution

b)      Slum 2: An illustration of how an outside organization has worked with a community to promote urban problem solving

c)      Slum 3: An illustration of how an innovative solution in one slum in one part of the world was shared and adapted for use in another slum in another part of the world

More research is needed to know which creative solutions will make the perfect case studies, but here is an initial list of innovative urban solutions I find intriguing:

1) mobile phone education in Africa (link); 2) urban farming in Detroit (link); 3) slums how-to manual (link); 4) interlocking soil bricks in Uganda (link); 5) community life boats in Bangladesh (link); 6) fabric from local plants in Mexico (link); education innovation in slums (cherry-picking one example he talks about)(link; link); 7) community currency in Brazil (link);

So that’s it, the birth of three stories. I’m working this story right now and have an end-of-month deadline. Meanwhile I’ve done some more interviews on the organic agriculture piece, did some extra-credit field work on organic agriculture down in Paraguay (that’s organic sugar cane in the photo associated with this post), and have a solid narrative to pitch to the editor. This is a pretty heartening example of how things snowball and it underscores the importance of relationships in this gig. And follow up emails. Follow up emails are big.