Knowledge o kae? (Where is Knowledge?)

Without exaggeration, I hear the above question about ten times per day when I'm in the office. Given the frequency I'm asked about where one might find Knowledge, one might think that the staff at Fanang Diatla Self-Help Project are budding epistemologists. As interesting a work environment that would be, the reality is that I share an office with the most-demanded member of Fanang Diatla's staff, whose name just happens to be Knowledge. (You Northern Sotho scholars at home will have noted that 'Knowledge o kae?' refers to the person whereas 'Knowledge e kae?' would refer to 'justified true belief'.)

As the financial manager and heir-apparent of an organization that receives funding from too many sources to count, Knowledge is almost constantly responding to queries from funders, other managers, administrative staff, home-based care volunteers, staff at the village clinic, bakery staff, drivers, members of the Fanang Diatla football team, and, of course, our CEO, Ms. Agnes Qwabe. These queries frequently take Knowledge away from our shared office, whether to our CEO's office, the village bank, the clinic, nearby Atok Platinum Mine, or to 'town' (aka Polokwane), but rarely does he inform me of his destination when he departs the office. Thus, my usual response to the query I hear so often is a disappointing "Ga ke tsebe" ("I don't know," which is also my usual response to the second-most common phrase I hear from my office post, "[Hole] Puncher e kae?").

Oftentimes, especially when the destination is 'town', I accompany Knowledge on his excursions. I thought, for this posting, I would write a bit about one of these such excursions to illustrate why it often takes rather longer than one would expect to accomplish even relatively simple tasks in the developing world, even when one happens to live in a part of the developing world that has relatively easy access to first-world resources and institutions.

One of my early projects here at Fanang Diatla has been to secure donations of computers to establish an information technology center at our new drop-in center (DIC) for orphans and vulnerable children. After an unsuccessful application to the Dell Foundation (they failed to mention on their website that they have appropriated all of their funds for the entire year) and unanswered queries to the Vodacom Foundation, we received an affirmative response from Computer Aid International, a UK organization that collects used computers and distributes them to schools and NGOs in developing countries. Computer Aid International agreed to donate ten used PCs to the new Fanang Diatla information technology resource center, so long as we paid for shipping and handling from London to the Port of Durban (South Africa's 2nd largest city and the busiest port in Africa). Thus, although the computers were technically 'free', Computer Aid International would not ship the computers until we deposited ₤770 (about $1,265 or R10,238) into their UK bank account. That amount, while certainly more than reasonable for ten high-quality used computers, would represent a substantial expense for a non-profit organization based in a poor, rural community where many families subsist on less than R1,000 per month (and many much less).

When I read the email from Computer Aid International on the 22nd of May, my excitement was tempered by my uncertainty regarding whether we would be able to find an organization willing to provide us the required funds within the six-week window (starting from the 13th of May, the date of our original application) for which the invoice would be valid. To my surprise, when I informed Fanang Diatla's CEO, Agnes, of the financial conditions of the donation, she assured me that finding the money to pay the shipping and handling costs would not be an issue. I just had to complete the paperwork, and she and Knowledge would ensure the funds would be available.

Within a few days, I had prepared all of the paperwork and investigated the logistics of making an international bank transfer from South Africa. My optimism that completing the transfer would be so simple even led me to email our principal bank to see if we could execute the transfer online. That's when things started going downhill. Less than 24 hours after replacing the cable that connects my phone to my laptop, which had limited my access to the internet to borrowing Knowledge's computer during the times he was out of the office, my laptop charger decided to malfunction and become a serious fire hazard, as the resistance in the wires somehow increased enough to burn through the plastic coating. The bad news: I was out a functioning laptop until I could replace the adapter. The good news: I managed to avoid burning down my house.

I found myself reassured the next day, when I called a computer shop in Polokwane that assured me that, although finding a replacement charger for a Dell laptop would be impossible, they carried a universal adapter that would get me back up-and-running for a 'mere' one-third of my monthly stipend. Despite the financial blow, having a working laptop would be more than worth the cost. To make a long story short, I'll just say that more than a week later I had discovered the limitations of 'universal' and found myself still without a working laptop. Instead, I had the pleasure of spending many hours and wasted rand dealing with the worst customer service I've experienced in my life thanks to the monopoly Dell South Africa has given to a single supplier of Dell computer accessories to out-of-warranty customers.

By the time I received my new laptop adapter, we were down to fewer than three weeks until the deadline to deposit the ₤770 into Computer Aid International's account. Also by this time, I had followed up the non-response to my email inquiry about international bank transfers with a phone call and learned that we would need to come into town to execute the transfer. Of course, organizing a trip into town is rarely a problem--except when we have a full week of visits by one of our major funders. Thus, Knowledge and I would have to delay our trip to the bank until the following Friday, eight business days from the deadline.

To ensure that things would run smoothly on Friday, I called our bank to see if we could make an early-morning appointment and to check to see what, if anything, we would have to bring in addition to the order invoice and our own bank account information (the former inquiry more to provide incentive for us to leave on-time than to ensure that we would be received promptly upon arrival). The bank representative informed me that 1) they do not make appointments and 2) we would just need to bring ourselves and both parties' banking details. Very simple.

At the bank on Friday, despite departing two hours late and being accosted by a white bank employee eager to share her life story of being abandoned by her adult children who fled the country in the 1980s and early 1990s to escape being drafted to fight the 'terrorists' in Angola and Mozambique ('terrorists', of course, being the Apartheid-era term for the ANC freedom fighters in exile), we reached the front of the queue not long after noon. Not long after being seated, however, we were informed that we were missing two essential elements of the transaction process, a letter on our official letterhead indicating approval for the transfer and, more significantly, the physical presence of at least two of the three signatories capable of authorizing a transfer from our main account. It was at that point, that I realized that the "yourselves" from my previous conversation with the bank representative meant not "your organization's Peace Corps Volunteers and Financial Manager" but "the persons with the authority to withdraw funds from your account". Thus, we returned home to Ga-Mathabatha that afternoon unsuccessful but confident that everything would be easily resolved on Monday, when we would return with the required letter and two authorized signatories.

When I arrived at the office on Monday morning with the approval in-hand, ready to head out early yet again, Knowledge kindly informed that, yet again, we'd have to delay our trip. Tuesday was a national holiday, but Limpopo Province had declared Monday to be a school holiday, which meant that all of the potential signatories would be off for the day. No problem. We'd just go on Wednesday.

Wednesday arrives. Only one week left to make the deposit. Once again I'm ready to head off to town. The signatories are back to work and free to leave for town for the day. We'll be leaving just after morning prayer. After morning prayer, Knowledge's phone rings. It's our principal contact person with the provincial Department of Health. He needs a report on the work of our caregivers, and he needs it yesterday. We're not leaving today.

Now it's Thursday. More than five weeks since I submitted the application for computers to Computer Aid International and five days until the invoice expires. One thing I learned about international bank transfers during my early research into the process is that the actual transfer can take anywhere from a few days to a week. The odds are pretty good that if Computer Aid does not receive the funds in the allotted time, they'll deny a second request believing that Fanang Diatla probably is not ready to manage a computer lab if the staff cannot even manage a simple bank transfer. Thus, I'm a bit nervous when 10am passes, and we still have not left the office. By 10:30, however, we're on the road and on our way to pick up one of the two signatories en route to town. We arrive just after noon and find the line at the bank to be mercifully short. The service agent assisting us is friendly and gives off an air of competence. Things are looking up.

Within thirty minutes, we've filled out and signed all the necessary documents and the agent has faxed all the forms to the Lebowakgomo branch of the bank, which hosts our main account. We wait. Nothing happens. The agent calls the Lebowakgomo branch. The 'advanced expert', the only person capable of handling international bank transfers at the Lebowakgomo branch, has left for lunch, but he should be back soon. One hour passes. The advanced expert has not yet returned, and Knowledge has to run off to a short meeting with some folks from the Department of Social Development. Another half-hour passes. I run across the street to get some lunch and bring back a snack from KFC to one of the signatories. Three o'clock passes. The bank closes at 3:30. My phone rings; it's Knowledge. Yes, we're still waiting. Yes, go ahead and make an angry call to the Lebowakgomo branch. It can't hurt at this point.

Ten minutes later, the agent's phone rings. It's the advanced expert. The agent corrects one of the forms, gives the form to the signatories to sign, and faxes it back to the advanced expert. The funds will be in Computer Aid's bank account on the 22nd of June. My muscles relax. My breath deepens. Knowledge returns. I smile.