Relentless - by Drew D'Agostino

Cameroon, Day 93 - 100: Bye Bye Bali

Thu, 10 May 2012 18:14:33 -0400

Yesterday, we left Bali and said our goodbyes.

It took us down to the wire, but we were able to accomplish almost all of our business goals for the trip.

We put together a database of thousands of farmers in the Northwest Region of Cameroon that signed up to be involved in Jola Venture’s platform.

We gathered a massive amount of information on the SolPOD’s performance in the target environment, so the engineers back in Boston can make final modifications for the production model.

We came up with a business model for the beautifully simple corn scraper, which will be launched later this year.

We put together a very comprehensive market study on the business challenges of agriculture in Cameroon and discovered trends that have never been publically documented before. The reports will be coming out soon if you’re interested.

We set up a radio show, “The Farmer’s Voice”, which will broadcast weekly in Bali and the surrounding areas.

We laid the groundwork for the Village Technology & Entrepreneurship Center, which will help farmers, youth, and the general population to learn things like basic accounting, inventory control, and computer skills to help manage their businesses and develop their careers.

I have about a dozen more videos I’ve created over the last couple of months, but the Internet prevents me from uploading them. However, they will be on YouTube soon.

When you leave a place like this, it really makes you realize just how much of a home it’s become over the previous few months.

There are things I know I’m going to miss, like:

Fresh food

When I say fresh, I’m not talking American “fresh”. I’m saying that every time you eat meat, that animal was probably alive a few hours before. The lack of food preservation here guarantees it.

Buying food here is a completely different experience and I’ve grown to love it. There are no supermarkets – just people on the street selling one or two things. Want fish? You go to Dorothy, the roasted fish lady. Want beef? You go to the Muslim guy that grills it every evening down by the junction. Want some vegetables? Stop by any of the hundreds of people in town that have brought the harvest from yesterday to sell today. I love this kind of community grocery shopping, because it’s a catalyst to building relationships with the people around you. I wish we had more like this in the US.

Having time

In the United States, we operate on a perpetual time famine. There is never enough of it. When is the last time you asked someone, “How is it going?” and they didn’t say something along the lines of, “I’m crazy busy right now.”

This isn’t a bad thing in itself – hard work is good. However, I don’t think we’re too busy. I think we’re afraid of not looking busy.

We occupy our days with tons of noise – lots of little actions that cover themselves up as “work” but really don’t accomplish much of anything. Yet they cause us to feel overworked and that we don’t have enough time. I’m talking specifically about habits that have been broken (with force) by this environment, like:

Checking email enough times that you’d be embarrassed to actually say the daily number in conversation, if you could even count it.
Reading article after article and telling yourself it’s a productive use of time.
At the slightest hint of boredom, whipping out the smart phone and using one of the hundreds of colorful apps you’ve downloaded to have something to look at.

I have to confess - at times, not being able to do these things has been embarrassingly painful. Here I am in an area where people regularly work a farm, a job, and school - not to mention the hours it takes to do daily tasks by hand like laundry, cooking, and cleaning, - and I’m freaking out about 48 hours without an Internet connection.

It’s embarrassing, but that’s what it took. I realized that by occupying my time, energy, and focus with these little US “necessities” I was robbing myself of the time it takes to think and talk deeply about things that truly matter.

People here always have time to talk with you. Yes, I believe this is one reason for the slow growth of the economy, but I think it is also a reason that you don’t see anyone stressed out like you do at home.

People that call you “brother”, “son”, and “uncle”

Family relationships in Africa have been the most amazing surprise to me, because they go so far beyond your actual family.

I wrote this the first week I got here –

We talk with Peter, a neighbor, family friend, and former school principle that tells us, “In our dialect, we have no word for uncle, aunt, nephew, niece, or cousin. Only father, mother, son, daughter, sister, and brother. If you are my father’s brother, you are my father. If you are my mother’s sister’s son, you are my brother. If you live nearby and you come to our door while we are eating dinner, come and sit with us. You are our son.”

In Bali, this became real.

The neighborhood kids called me “Uncle Andrew”, my close friends would call me a “brother” and I would do the same, and older people would either call me “papa” or “son”. The Fon gave us Bali names last week, so people also started calling me “Bobga”. It’s hard to put your finger on what this does to the community, but you can feel the strength, like a tightly weaved basket.

And going along with my last point – people here have time for their family. If they don’t have it, they make it.

Now, I’m ready to get the next chapter of this thing started. It’s been a long 3 ½ months and I’m excited to go home, see everyone again, and to take back these lessons I’ve learned to incorporate them into “real life”.

This experience has given me “wow” moments, it’s been scary at times, it’s made me uncomfortable, and at times it has given me clarity that can only come when you’re forced into the unknown. Most of all, it’s humbled me in ways I can’t describe, and I’ll never forget it.

For now, onward to South Africa!

Cameroon, Day 86 - 92: A Walk in the Jungle

Wed, 02 May 2012 08:59:00 -0400

My time here is winding down quickly, so I’ve been trying to just walk around and absorb as much of this place as I can.

I took a long walk one day out to a village called Baba, and I found a great place to sit, where I ultimately got distracted by a butterfly for about a half hour.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned around to three Muslim guys who just felt like saying hi to the random white guy up on the hill.

They were cattle herders, and one of their cows had been bitten by a viper. They needed to treat it quickly to increase its chances of survival, so we walked down the slope of the hill to the watering hole.

The herd was really healthy looking, except for the one that was bitten. It seemed like all of the flesh was just gone and it was just skin and bones. I was amazed that the animal was still up and walking around.

Although I still don’t know their names, the guys invited me to ride their horses this week, so I might have some funny pictures for next week’s post.

Of course, on the walk back I saw my first poisonous snake. I also saw a woman with an incredible throwing arm. She took a rock the size of her head and crushed the creature in one toss from about 3 yards away.

This week, I learned how to smash corn. It involves a sac, a big stick, and corn. You put the corn in the sac, and then hit it as hard as you can. Food preparation, exercise, and anger management all in one!

My small church group took me to a bigger church this week, where the service lasted about 5 hours (but who’s counting?). I don’t know why, but I am always the one that’s called on to read. Like 4 times every service.

I’ve had my eye on this mountain in the distance for about two months now, and I finally decided that I would not leave Cameroon without seeing what was on top.

Two new friends, Anton from Germany and Rosa from Finland, joined me on Saturday at 6am to make our way across the valley to climb.

After about two hours of walking, we were already lost in the jungle. But the amazing thing is just how willing the people here are to help. On three separate occasions, people just dropped everything they were doing and guided us along. The first woman was a farmer, and she took us through her fields and the overgrown bush with a machete until we reached a little road that we could follow.

On that road, we eventually arrived at an orphanage, which I feel confident in saying was in the middle of nowhere.

But immediately upon our arrival, about 10 kids got together and stood on their porch to sing us a song:

You are welcome in the name of the Lord
You are welcome in the name of the Lord
You are welcome, you are welcome,
You are welcome in the name of the Lord

I’d like to teach my brothers and sister to do that every time I come home.

When we finally reached the small village at the foot of this mountain, someone once again offered to take us all the way to the top.

It was a pretty tough climb, especially after trekking all morning, but the view from the top was worth it.

I was amazed to see Bali, Mbengwi, and Bamenda all in one eye-shot.

All I could think of was, “How did I never know a place like this existed?”

Cameroon, Day 78 - 85: Yaounde, His Excellency, and a Stampede

Thu, 26 Apr 2012 10:30:00 -0400

I’m really not having great luck in the Unfriendly Bug department. In this latest episode, some creature (I forget its name) excretes acid on my neck as I sleep and leaves a nice cross-shaped burn.

After about a month delay, we finally made our trip to Yaounde, the Capitol of Cameroon.

I had expectations similar to Douala – that it would pretty much be a hot, crowded, unplanned mess. I was wrong. Quite wrong.

Right in the center of this country, Yaounde is developed to an entirely different decade, maybe even a different century, than most other areas. It’s all there – traffic lights, double-lane highways, fast Internet, convenience stores, garbage collection, buildings larger than one or two stories, etc.

Everyone in the Northwest has been telling me this whole time about what happens to the wealth of this country. I get it now. Quite simply, most of it stays in the Capitol.

We had a whole lineup of meetings to attend in Yaounde, the biggest one being with the Minister of Agriculture. Politics is royalty in Cameroon, so you must call the minister “His Excellency”.

And we found a Chinese restaurant. In Africa. Of course we had to go.

After meeting with more people from the Ministry, the World Bank, Customs, and the US Embassy over the next few days, we headed back to Bali. When we returned, it seemed strangely like home. It’s even stranger that I’ll be leaving in 2 weeks.

It was nice to see my chicken friends again.

Of course, I still can’t walk around with kids all yelling “White man! White man! White man! Hi.”

The medical industry is funny here. Well, every industry is kind of funny, but in particular, the doctors in Bamenda all sound like either kid’s action movies or comedians.

There’s good old Dr. Mofo:

Also, “The Infection Blaster”:

And if you need some pills, just head over to Black Star Pharmacy:

This guy wins most impressive head-balancing act this week:

I also realized that I really need to be a little bit more careful around the cows, so I don’t have to end up in Dr. Mofo’s office.

P.S. If anyone has been to South Africa and knows some really cool things to do, places to see, or people to meet, send me an email (drewdagostino@gmail.com). I’ll be there for a few weeks and I am clueless. Thanks!

Cameroon, Day 69-77

Thu, 19 Apr 2012 16:55:22 -0400

So, I can now cross off “Act in a Cameroonian movie” from my bucket list.

The part was tough, but I was ready for the challenge. I was selected to be “Edward, the white visitor from the United States.” It didn’t take too long to get into character as they took me to the set in a random village house. In a few minutes it was time for my scene.

No script, no problem. That’s how they do movies in Africa. However, I think I was a still a little behind the curve, because even now, I could not tell you what that movie was about, what I actually said, or even what the name of the movie is.

They just told me “you are a white visitor from America. Talk to the chief for a while about the people and education you are going to bring.” After I finished my completely made-up schpeal, a princess (the star of the movie) came out and started waving a feather in my face, yelling at me for something that I had no idea I did.

They said the movie should be released before I leave, so I’ll be able to show you my Bali-wood debut.

After the radio performance a few weeks ago, Chop My Money (Acoustic Version) is now at the top of the charts in Njenka (our neighborhood of Bali). Seriously, nobody lets me play anything else anymore.

Also, I have a beard now.

Take a second to appreciate some grilling beauty (most of this was not my doing)…

Since getting to Bali, we’ve made some close friends that have taken so much time to introduce us to their village and help us get used to the lifestyle. I’d really like to introduce them to you.

One of them is Aloys, who lives close by and runs the bar across the street.

I want to write about what he does, because it’s such a good example of working with what you have to create as much value as possible. Like I said, he runs the bar across the street full-time. He also has his own chicken farm and a new tomato farm he just planted, which should yield something around 500 buckets every week. He’s also a part owner of one of the largest chicken farms in Bali, and I’ve been studying his business to look for ways to improve and grow.

This should be an encouragement for any entrepreneur or really anyone that wants to live productively… Every morning, Aloys wakes up around 4:30 or 5, and often goes for a run or plays a game of football. Most of his days are spent at one of the three farms I’ve mentioned, which includes doing tough physical labor by himself, managing his purchasing & selling, and managing laborers as they complete large projects like clearing, planting, or harvesting. Every evening, he is at the bar counter, serving local customers until around midnight. The man sleeps about 4 hours each night (which I still cannot understand).

He’s a hard worker, and he’s not alone. There are lots of people in this region of Cameroon that are ambitious and hardworking. However, most of them eventually hit a glass ceiling because of either 1) lack of access to capital, or 2) politics. These are real, very widespread problems that the western world usually doesn’t think about, because when we think about about Africa, we usually focus on the masses of starving people or the corrupt elite.

I don’t know what it will take for places like Cameroon to finally become “developed”. You can talk about things like better roads, faster Internet, less corruption, and more reliable electricity, but all of those things are really a byproduct of putting power and money in the hands of the right people.

Cameroon, Day 61-68

Sun, 08 Apr 2012 15:59:14 -0400

Last week, I mentioned the month-long lack of rain. That continued for about a day, right up through a big meeting we had planned with the Bali Farmer’s Federation.

It was an outdoor meeting with the leaders of about 130 farming groups in Bali. It’s a huge deal to get the support of these leaders, because that means we have relationships with thousands of farmers here, and we can use it as a model to replicate.

Of course, during the meeting, the heavens opened up and we all had to huddle under a small porch nearby.

Every day since then, it’s been a downpour for at least a few hours. Somehow though, we still don’t have running water, and the electricity goes out all the time. Two months ago, this would have annoyed me. Now, it’s just life.

The next night, when the rain subsided, we had a barbeque for the community (it took us a while to throw a housewarming party). Nobody knows what barbeque is here. I’m surprised, because it really doesn’t take anything but come cinder blocks and a metal grate.

Jason is now raising a bunch of chickens, and we christened the new homemade grill with one of them.

As I’ve met and spoken with more farmers from Cameroon, I’ve discovered this ongoing battle between them and the cattle herders.

The cows are literally walking around all day, every day, eating grass. Sometimes (actually pretty often), they cross into a farm and completely ruin the crops.

This happened three times in the last two months to Beatrice, a hardworking farmer I met a few days ago. She had a field full of vegetables, and a month into their cycle, a bunch of cows came at ate them. She planted again. Cows came again. Then she built a fence around the field and planted again. The same cows ate it all again.

You can imagine how this is not only tremendously annoying, but really damaging to her business. Still, she has reported the issue to the counsel but nothing has been done.

Somehow, I was invited to be a guest musician on Bali’s local radio station.

In the western world, we’re used to a Top 40 list that gets annoying. In Cameroon, it’s a Top 5, and nobody ever seems to get sick of the songs. Rather than resist, I’ve tried to like these 5 songs.

For the radio show, I played an acoustic version of “Chop My Money.” “Chop” is “eat” or “food” in pidgin.

Now, I’ve been invited to act in a Cameroonian movie. I have no idea what the part is, or really what the movie is about at all. I’m just assuming they were waiting for a random white guy to play the “random white guy” part.

Cameroon, Day 54 - 60: Where is the rain?

Sat, 31 Mar 2012 06:42:00 -0400

It’s supposed to be the start of the rainy season, but we haven’t had rain for almost a month, and the running water went out two weeks ago. All of a sudden, many of the African struggles we hear about have become very real.

For instance, I was complaining about not being able to wash my clothes… until I realized that for most of our neighbors, the lack of water means that their crops are in serious danger of dying. That equals no money and no food.

In America, we have that expression that always goes something like “I’m working to put food on the table.” When people say it here, they mean it.

I visited a farmer named Nelson yesterday. He’s in his 40’s and has a large farm that pretty much covers a whole mountainside in the jungle.

On a typical day, he wakes up around 4:30, walks about 3 miles to his farm if the motorcycle isn’t working or if he can’t pay for gas. He and his children work the farm all day – walking up, over, and down the mountain (about 300 – 400 feet from the road-level path), carrying buckets of water from the stream to cultivate everything (some things, like tomatoes, need to be watered twice a day).

He and his two boys were in the middle of clearing a field to plant some cassava. It’s a few days of work on your hands and knees in the dirt – under the Cameroon sun.

To give you an idea of the market for all this… he has a field of pepper. The field yields about 2 buckets of pepper every 3 months. In a good market, pepper sells for about $10 per bucket (that’s after he harvests it, carries it up the mountain, and walks it 3 miles to the Bali market).

So working the pepper nearly every week day for 3 months, he and his family get about $20 for the field - about 35 cents for every day of labor. In a bad market, pepper can go for $4 per bucket.

Even in his situation, the man would not stop offering us fruit. He gave us a stem of bananas, some avocados, and passion fruit.

I am amazed by the generosity of these people. I was walking way out in the bush today, and I passed by a family that was working their farm, and had just broken for lunch and called me over. They insisted on sharing their picnic with me – almost a full serving of foo-foo and jamma-jamma (I love the food names here).

In other news, there are cows everywhere this week and I don’t know why.

We also climbed the biggest hill in Bali, as we were told we’d find monkeys on top. No monkeys, but a wonderful view.

A few days ago, I found a gorgeous wild horse out in the fields.

And this is a patch of huckleberry that one farmer planted for his wife.

Cameroon, Day 47 - 53

Sat, 24 Mar 2012 03:38:29 -0400

Yesterday, I had ants in my pants. Fire ants. I suppose it could have been worse, right?

The more I collect data from these farms, the clearer (and more confusing at the same time) it becomes to me why there is such a cycle of poverty here, and really in places like this all over Africa.

I’ve been interview a bunch of farmers to find out every detail of their input costs, as well as their production and market prices. Doing this has given me a better idea of what the most profitable crops are (and often, that means the crops that end up causing less of a loss).

More than half of the farmers I’ve spoken to seem to be losing money farming on at least one of their main crops. The numbers just don’t add up. He’ll rattle off the costs of labor, tools, fertilizer, transport, etc. and then I’ll stack it up against what he would sell in an ordinary market and the estimated costs always exceed the revenue, even in a decent market. It just doesn’t make sense.

I think it ultimately comes down to culture – and these farmers have developed a culture of subsidizing the country (and the world) with their labor. There’s no accounting for one’s own time in farm work here. What needs to be done simply gets done. Unfortunately, when you calculate a value for their time, you find that it causes people to literally generate pennies for every hour of labor.

That’s why these simple technologies we’re bringing over, like the corn scraper, are so impactful. They would be useless in the U.S. but in Cameroon, a simple, cheap piece of plastic can save people hours every day, and can save their hands from the tough repetition of grinding thousands of ears of corn.

Seriously, I’ve been amazed by the farmers’ responses to this little thing. I walked into a village with Marie to demonstrate it, and within minutes, we were surrounded by about 30 people and thunderous applause.

What’s even cooler is their response when we say it’s going to be somewhere between $2 - $4. I wish we had a few thousand to sell right now.

One eerie thing I’ve noticed here is how big the funeral business is here, and how consumerized it is. To give you an idea, I recently saw vehicles for these two companies:

Big Frank’s Funeral Service

Destiny Service (funerals) – yes the parentheses are included in the name.

Cameroon, Day 47 - 53

Sat, 24 Mar 2012 03:34:02 -0400

Yesterday, I had ants in my pants. Fire ants. I suppose it could have been worse, right?

What’s even cooler is their response when we say it’s going to be somewhere between $2 - $4. I wish we had a few thousand to sell right now.

One eerie thing I’ve noticed here is how big the funeral business is here, and how consumerized it is. To give you an idea, I recently saw vehicles for these two companies:

Big Frank’s Funeral Service

Destiny Service (funerals) – yes the parentheses are included in the name.

Cameroon, Day 41 - 45: Lots of Fon

Fri, 16 Mar 2012 15:42:54 -0400

At the beginning of the week, we traveled to Mbengwi, the village that our CEO, Roland, grew up in.

I quickly found out, Mbengwi is Mbeautiful.

There was even a Jumanji plant that I almost ate me.

The first night, we attended the ceremony to crown the new Fon – the chief of the village. Since the Fons are in power for life, this is only something that happens every 30 or 40 years.

The celebration was overwhelming - just a constant party of singing and dancing to 10 different songs all at the same time. Of course, being the white guy walking through the crowd with a camera, I was dragged into more than a couple of these crazy circles.

And they kept going until it was literally too dark to see anything.

The new Fon is only 26. He’s still in college. It’s pretty wild when I found how this works. If you’re in the royal family, the village kingmakers can choose you to be the next Fon. Everybody goes up to the top of the mountain next to the village to perform some traditional rituals, and then the candidates run down the slope, until the kingmakers catch the one who is to be the Fon and slap the royal bracelet on his wrist. Once it’s on your wrist, you can’t take it off. Your life is to lead the village.

We got to visit a fish farm for the first time. Such a cool place.

Except for maybe what I found out about the feeding. You see those little wooden houses on the side of each pond? That’s for pigs. The pigs eat all the time and their waste gets funneled down a tube to the pond. Lots of algae forms from that and the fish have food. This practice is apparently quite common, but is under a lot of scrutiny because pigs carry lots of diseases that are harmful to humans, and they might be passing it along to fish. Sorry if I ruined your dinner.

Tuesday and Wednesday were spent entirely with farming groups of Mbengwi. We had about 8 meetings with groups and community leaders.

This is all to grow a network for Jola Venture. The main reasons most products fail when they’re introduced to this market is that they do not integrate with the culture and people reject them. Either the product itself does not fit, or the company doesn’t form the right relationships within the villages. This is the key competitive advantage for Jola Venture. People can copy our technology, but nobody can copy these relationships.

We also are piloting a simple new technology – a corn scraper.

Scraping corn is an extremely time-consuming process when done by hand, but the women of the region have made it their culture to sit in a circle and chat while they scrape. It’s inefficient, but it’s just the way it is. Rather than come in with a big machine that disrupts that culture, this corn scraper still allows them to sit in the circle and enjoy conversation. But the actual act of scraping is much easier on the hands and takes less than half the time.

Oh, and check out this spider I found next to the front door:

And to all my friends from Boston getting mad at NStar because they haven’t gotten your power back on yet, I would like to show you an African toilet:

Cameroon, Day 35-40

Sat, 10 Mar 2012 13:53:41 -0500

Today, there’s this strange tradition that is keeping everyone inside. Once a year, this secret society within Bali has to ‘cleanse’ the village. They walk around wearing masks and making noise, and if you go outside, you’re in trouble. I don’t know what happens, but all the locals take it pretty seriously.

When I go running around the countryside here, I’ve been making a habit of getting a little bit lost every time. Not hopelessly lost, but lost enough to satisfy curiosity.

When you don’t really know where you are, you find the most beautiful things.

Another week, another market day. Every time I go, it seems to make more sense. It’s a chaotic scene, but at the end of the day, most people seem to buy and sell what they need. Whether the food is still good from sitting out all day in the sun is another story.

We got the chance to visit the Fon of Bali a few days ago. He’s the traditional ruler over this land – basically the chief. People respect his authority more than the government, and they view him as a semi-divine figure.

They say that the Fon never dies. He just changes bodies.

He has 11 wives and tons of children. There’s no salary for this job, but every time someone comes to the palace, they must bring a gift. People bring food, money, animals, and even children sometimes (a common case is to bring one of two twins to be raised in the palace if a family cannot afford to raise both).

When the Fon enters a room, you stand when he stands, and sit when he sits. When he sits, everyone must clap 5 times. And never cross your legs. I unfortunately did not know this rule and got reprimanded (I can’t believe I did it a second time too). He said lots of Westerners have that problem for some reason.

Watching a football game in Africa makes me realize how out of shape the American standard of “in shape” is.

I visited and filmed a large chicken farm owned by 4 guys that are very active in its management. They are ambitious, and want to grow, but face a lot of similar challenges that the other farmers deal with:

There’s not enough money to purchase medicine and feed for the entire life of each chicken, so they are forced to sell some early.

There’s no electricity or running water in the farm, so both of those are huge costs in terms of labor and time.

Still, visiting a chicken farm is cool. I’m amazed at how afraid the chickens were of me and how they immediately stuck by their caretaker (who is also human).

P.S. I found a sweet beetle on my shirt yesterday.

I’m still trying to get used to Cameroonian business & culture, but someone I was talking...

Thu, 08 Mar 2012 12:26:53 -0500

I’m still trying to get used to Cameroonian business & culture, but someone I was talking to came up with a nearly perfect one-sentence description:

‘It always starts with a prayer and ends with a beer.’

Cameroon, Day 29-34: VIDEO UPDATE

Mon, 05 Mar 2012 04:23:00 -0500

Last week, Jola was a finalist in a business plan competition that was co-sponsored by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. I made this video for the presentation, and after literally days of running around, I was finally able to find a decent Internet connection to upload it. I want to share it with you because I think it’s really powerful to just hear what’s going on from the farmers themselves.

Since my last post, we’ve also added another, making a team of five. Jason flew in from Switzerland to help with the market studies and micro-financing. He’s been all over the world and is one of the few people I’ve met that fully embraces the philosophy that short-term discomfort = great long-term story.

2/29/12

Finally got the chance to spend some time in Bamenda, which is the main city of the Northwest Region.

Randomly, Marie and I found ourselves being dragged into a school by a bunch of little kids. They were just amazed at our skin color - “Why are you yellow?!?!”

They were proud of their school, and proud to sing us welcome songs.

I hate shopping at home. But here, I love it. It’s a game. Most people give me the white guy price, which is general 2x to 3x the normal price. Knowing this, I get a great chance to practice negotiating. My high score that day was bringing down something from 2000 francs to 700 francs. Part of me wishes shopping in the US was like this, but the wiser part of me is glad that it isn’t, because I would be broke.

Like I said, most people with something to sell try and take advantage of the foreigners, and by virtue of being white, the perception is automatically that we are wealthy. BUT, there are some people that don’t. One of those people was a woman in Bamenda that owned a restaurant where we decided to eat. She had hearty, filling, African-style dishes at the regular price of 500 francs ($1.00) per plate. So food and drinks for 3 people was a grand total of $6.00. On top of that, she gave me extra plantains because she only had a little bit left of the kind I asked for. Most people with these little businesses here either don’t understand or don’t care about the lifetime value of a customer, especially for visitors. But she delivered customer service in a place where it seemingly doesn’t exist, and we’ve already been back again – and I intend to many more times.

3/1/12

This started off as a weird day. I woke up at 4:30 in anticipation of visiting a farm early, but for some reason it didn’t happen, and I ended up just going for a long, long walk.

That’s when an elderly woman saw me and called me over to her compound. She was only speaking in pidgin, so I could barely understand what she was saying, but she motioned over to a pan she had cooking over an open fire. She was roasting some nuts, and I realized that she wanted to share them with me.

She picked up the pan, and I don’t know what I was thinking, but I cupped my hands out for her to pour some nuts. Yes, the pan that was just over an open fire with nuts that were audibly sizzling. As could be expected, it was pretty painful when she poured some of them. But I simply couldn’t drop them on the ground. Here’s this very poor looking woman who is thrilled to be sharing HALF of her breakfast with me. What kind of a person would drop it because it’s a little too hot? Nearly crying, I squeezed out a “n’jika n’jamma” (thank you very much) turned back on my walk, emptying the nuts into my shirt as I held it out like a basket. A few minutes later, they ended up burning a hole through it, but I was able to salvage some – I ended up with a handful of roasted ground nuts and one of the most painfully awkward situations I’ve ever experienced.

Later in the day, I visited my friend Aloys’ chicken farm. It’s actually a pretty cool business. He raises about 1000 at a time, and they take 3 months to get to full maturity. But what’s really interesting is the risk-reward aspect that goes with it. I learned that the older a chicken is, the higher its price. However, the longer you keep it, the more likely it is to get sick and die, so you wind up with a pretty big loss. It’s like a micro-stock market.

3/2/12

Early in the morning, I took about an hour ride out (plus a half hour walk) to the biggest farm I’ve seen here so far. The middle of nowhere doesn’t begin to describe the location, but the landscape? Among the most stunning I’ve ever seen.

The farmer was explaining his biggest problem – financing. He had a very clear understanding of what he could do with some extra money, but he’s just completely handicapped by his lack of capital. It prevents him from planting, cultivating, harvesting, and selling produce all at once, which would be the most efficient and profitable way, because he simply doesn’t have the cash to pay for the labor involved (it’s more concentrated instead of dispersed over a longer period).

This was evident in his fields. It was a rolling checkerboard of harvested, semi-grown, and recently planted crops. If you saw it without knowing the reason, you’d say it’s disorderly and inefficient. But it’s the result of some serious institutional neglect.

3/3/12

As Tyler, Marie, and I headed back from another farm on the backs of a couple of motorcycles, we got caught in the hailstorm of the century.

It was pretty funny at first. But then they began to grow. Marble-sized pieces of ice flying into your face when you’re on the road have a way of sucking the humor out of things. Luckily, we were close to the farmer’s house. She said that this was the official beginning of the rainy season.

3/4/12

We went to see a group of women practice a bunch of traditional dances and songs for their Women’s Day performance this Thursday.

Dancing is one area where this world is so vastly different from ours. People just get up and shamelessly move their bodies (without any influence of alcohol). It’s totally not weird to see some guy randomly get up from his chair in a restaurant and start dancing by himself.

I think I’ll try that when I get back, just to see what happens.

Cameroon, Day 23-28

Tue, 28 Feb 2012 08:22:33 -0500

So this is the “I can’t believe it’s February” edition. We spent the week in Limbe, which turned out to be a beautiful, unique place. The beaches were unlike anything I’ve seen before. All of them have this thick, smooth, dark volcanic sand that feels kind of like play-doh.

The city is built on the coast right at the foot of Mount Cameroon, which last erupted in 1999, making it a very active volcano. You could see the enormous crater on the side of the mountain – just a huge hole that faced the ocean.

We went to one of Roland’s in-law’s houses for lunch, and she made us this incredible dish called Ekwang, which is supposedly reserved for special occasions. Best. Thing. Ever. I don’t even really know what it was or how to describe it. Just thick, green, and a little mushy. But it was heavenly. I didn’t have time to take a picture between bites.

We also got the chance to present to students at the University of Buea, one of the larger schools in Cameroon. It was surprising to see just how interested and ready to help many of them were. Simple things like extra-curricular activities are not too common around here, and people are naturally excited by the chance to get some hands-on experience. [Insert Northeastern University marketing statement and value proposition here].

Two days ago, we made the 7-hour trip back to Bali to get back to real work.

Just a totally random observation - Animals replace clocks here. Roosters start yelling at exactly 5am every morning. At precisely 1am, all (I mean ALL) of the dogs howl at the moon. At 7pm, crickets chirp. Every single day.

We met with the leaders of a large farming federation in Bali that represents over 1000 individuals and groups. It’s really amazing how much they are anticipating the SolPod and other technologies we’re bringing. After just a quick description of what we’re doing here, they were overwhelmingly joyful, saying that this was literally an answer to their prayers. That’s a humbling thought – and it also made me realize how real this is. People have been waiting and waiting, and this technology is a catalyst of hope for them. It’s going to take a whole lot of work, time, and people that can do far more things than I can, but in the end, I honestly think Jola is going to help lift thousands, if not millions of people out of this poverty cycle.

We had a really sad reality-check this week though. In Bali, we had given this woman from a nearby university a ride home. She was 9 months pregnant with twins, due any day, and she seemed really happy. A few days after we left, one of our friends from Bali called us to tell us that she died in childbirth. That was tough to hear, but it’s also a big eye-opener to the real life problems in places like this. Things like this are just way too common.

There is a bright side though – her babies were healthy and doing well. If you can, just keep her family in your thoughts and prayers.

Cameroon, Day 17-22

Wed, 22 Feb 2012 12:24:00 -0500

I’ve gotten sick at home before. You usually go home, sweat it out, take a few pills, lie in bed and watch Maury for a day, and you’re better in 24 hours.

Third-world viruses don’t go down that easily.

They’re much meaner, and they punch you in the gut without stopping. This particular bug that I got made sure that every part of my body knew what it meant to be in Africa. So I spent Tuesday morning to Friday half-conscious, shuffling helplessly back and forth between my bed and the bathroom.

2/18/12

When I could stand up again, I met a young guy Jean, who is in charge of a local farming cooperative, and he took me out to his farm in the bush. I mean wayyyyy out in the bush. It was my first time taking a ride on one of these motorcycles, and yes, it was about as scary as I imagined it would be. But to tell you the truth, I think it’s absolutely the best way to explore the countryside. It’s like a fast, powerful horse that doesn’t get tired.

He’s definitely struggling out there. There are just so many problems that farmers here have to deal with, and they have no control. He said the five main problems were 1) fluctuations in the market, 2) waste, 3) lack of access to technology, 4) land, and 5) lack of training.

Every week, he calls customers in major Cameroonian cities to check the price of pepper. He finds out which is highest and brings it there. He then has to hire a vehicle, which is expensive and also prone to break down. When that happens, it’s a complete loss.

The challenges he runs up against are endless: Last season, the weather ruined the whole pepper crop. Right now, market prices are so low that he cannot afford insecticide, so insects can destroy his tomatoes.

But young farmers don’t have much choice to grow anything besides tomatoes and pepper, because they are quick turnaround. They cannot invest the time to grow yams, bananas, plantains, etc, because they need the cash to feed their families. It’s a tough situation.

These kinds of stories just make me want to get hundreds of SolPods here right now so people like Jean can dry and sell the excess food that all goes to waste now. They are ready to buy – the ball is just in our court to improve the design and lower the cost of manufacturing it.

2/19/12

We got invited to a business conference in Kribi, a town right on the coast in southern Cameroon, and we stayed for the night.

I was pleasantly surprised by the place. It’s a laid-back little beach town that reminds me of southern California, except not as built up (and there are chickens and lizards running around). The night here finally snapped me out of my sickness, so I became a functional human being again.

Fishing is like farming out here. Water instead of soil, nets instead of hoes, but still a very similar mindset – things are done similarly to the way they are described in the Bible.

2/20/12

After a nice little stay in Kribi (and the most glorious shower in my life – I had no idea how much hot water means to me), we headed up the coast for about 4 hours to Limbe.

Limbe is supposedly the place to be in Cameroon. It has the largest oil refinery and it’s surrounded by cocoa, rubber, and coffee plantations, so there’s money here.

I still can’t get over the garbage though. It’s everywhere. Trash cans are just cultural taboo and I don’t know why.

We’re also now joined by Marie, who graduated from Northeastern last year and just flew in from France. She’ll be helping with the SolPod’s marketing strategy.

2/21/12

I thought time moved slowly in Bali, but it moves even slower out here. It’s really incredible. I can feel the minutes take longer. It’s like after each hour, the clock stops, takes a breath, then moves on with the next hour. As an American (especially a New Yorker), if you don’t consciously make an effort to slow down, you’ll go absolutely nuts.

But I’m realizing, when I just walk down to the water or something, there’s not a hint of stress on peoples’ faces. They smile.

*PS: If you’re having trouble viewing the pictures, let me know. These blogs posts literally take hours to upload and some of the images are having issues.

Cameroon, Day 11-16

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 13:17:00 -0500

The biggest adjustment to Cameroon so far is time. It’s a completely different concept. People here don’t place a value on hours like we do in the U.S. It does not equal money. People aren’t paid hourly. Things just take as long as they need to take.

2/10/12

I got invited to go on a morning run with a new friend, Alloise, who happens to be an aspiring professional soccer player. He was a little bit harder to beat than the kids that were chasing me in the forest the other day.

I’ve started to shadow a bunch of farmers in Bali, following them around to learn more about their lifestyle and what it takes to plant, cultivate, harvest, and sell their produce. To tell you the truth, I think their concept of time is part of what keeps them in poverty. Something like scraping corn by hand can take 3 hours – this is just a fraction of the time that goes into preparing and selling a bucket of corn, which typically sells for around $7.00.

I’m going to go deeper into this to find out exactly how much time is spent doing things like this and how much of it can be replaced with the introduction of simple technologies. Time saved is time that can be put into increased production and more income.

2/11/12

On Saturday, it was National Youth Day in Cameroon, which is actually a pretty major holiday here.

All across the country, in every city and village, there’s a parade that literally everybody attends. All the kids dress in their school uniforms and they march up and down the street. Then there’s a competition where they perform songs and dances.

And they all love the President.

Every village in Cameroon has a specialty food. Here, it’s foo-foo. Foo-foo is unlike anything I’ve seen in America. They take either cassava or corn and somehow make it into this big sticky ball that you pick at with your hands and dip into vegetables. It really goes with everything, and I’ll be sure to figure out how to bring it back with me.

2/12/12

Church is very different here. Everyone is organized into men and women’s groups, and they all have matching uniforms. Service lasted 3 ½ hours, a good portion of that being the different groups standing up to lead worship songs.

There are no instruments - just loud singing. Half of the service is in Mungaka - the local Bali language that only people from this village know. And what church service is complete without a chicken auction afterword?

But still the same Bible and the same Jesus.

2/13/12

We’ve been testing the SolPod daily, and the results have really been interesting. Some things, like peppers, take a couple of hours to dry, while others, like pineapple, take a couple of days. We’re hoping to improve the design so that nothing takes more than a full day, but it’s still a huge improvement over the weeks it currently takes to dry things.

Right now, people leave their fruits and vegetables out in the sun on a metal sheet. It sits there for weeks, exposed to bugs, chickens, the weather, and anything else crawling around outside.

2/14/12 – 2/15/12

I ate something Tuesday morning, and it got me good.

Supposedly, this happens to every westerner at least once when they come to Africa (although I’m not sure it always hits as hard as this). It was just a matter of time. But yeah, it’s been a tough 24 hours in bed.

So, as I recover, enjoy some photos taken over the last few days…

Cameroon, Day 7-10: Welcome to the Village

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 08:35:38 -0500

After a long van ride through the hills of Cameroon, we arrived in Bali, the village we’ll call home for the next 4 months.

It’s the dry season here, so it’s very dusty. But the weather is gorgeous (sunny and 80-ish degrees every day) and there’s lush vegetation. It’s a very relaxed kind of place.

Everyone here greets us with “You are welcome.” They make it abundantly clear that they are friendly, accepting, and eager to talk to us. We’re staying in a spacious house right on the main road, and a whole group of people immediately helped us move all our stuff in, no questions asked.

The shower in the house is pretty much a cold hose that works about 50% of the time. Same with the sink and toilet. We have full buckets of water for the other 50%. Electricity is a little more reliable, but still goes out for about 15 minutes from time to time.

2/7/11

I went for my first long run in Africa, and the elevation made the air tough to breath, but once I got away from the main road on the little paths, it was breathtaking. This Earth is blessed. I can’t wait to go farther.

On the way back, I got into an impromptu race with 10 little village kids. Left them all in my dust.

It’s amazing how people warm up to you when you try and speak their language. I’ve been able to pick up a few greetings and food words from the local Bali dialect. So, whenever I see someone I say, (have no idea how this is spelled) “Ola in-yea” and they laugh as they respond, “W’sat in-yea!” (I really don’t know what these actually mean. Our neighbor that taught me the phrases could be playing some cruel trick on me. I hope I’m not saying something like “I just farted!”).

We set up the SolPod prototypes behind our house for testing, and subsequently made friends with a bunch of the neighborhood kids – Ivory, Austin, Bradley, Brandon, Ryan, and Alicia.

2/8/11

We met with the Jolly Jolly Sisters, a group of women farmers that let us attend their monthly meeting to talk more about the SolPod, Jola Venture, and how to help make small Cameroonian farmers more profitable. The group seems like part agricultural union, part social club, and they sing a song to commence every meeting, “We Are The Jolly Jolly Sisters”.

We brought some dried fruit with us from Whole Foods, and some of them were amazed at 1) their existence, and 2) how much they are worth. Here, they are used to selling, for example, a branch of about 50-60 bananas for somewhere around 2,000CFA ($4.00). Then they saw the package of Whole Foods dried banana chips that sells for $5.00. Someone is making a ton of money between harvest and sale.

After the meeting, we had a fellowship feast, followed by each of them downing 1 or 2 beers each (Cameroonian beers are 32 oz. – twice the size of American beers).

2/9/11

I just went to the Bali market, which happens every 8 days. It’s quite the chaotic scene, but everyone somehow seems to know what’s going on.

The farmers here have worked hard all week to bring their crops to market, but I see their bushels going for prices that are less than a Subway sandwich costs in the U.S. Most of them are just barely getting by on this income, which cannot be more than $20 or $30 a week for many.

Apparently, this is just the way it always has been. Farming is a way of life, and they really don’t have any leverage with the wholesalers that pay pennies to bring the food to bigger cities at a greater margin.

I’ll be shadowing several of these farmers over the next few weeks to learn everything I can about them – what the whole process of farming each crop is like, from planting, to cultivating, to harvesting, to the sale. There has to be a way to improve this.

Cameroon, Day 6: The Road to Bali

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 04:57:47 -0500

We took a longer than expected stay in Douala, but Saturday morning, we rented out every seat of an 18 passenger van, and took off for the 6-hour drive to Bali.

Before you go and judge us for van-gluttony, it’s because we’re carrying about 10 big suitcases and 20 computers with equipment for the technology center we’re setting up. Our van’s name was Turbo.

Getting out of the city, I had no idea what to expect. What do we eat? Where do I go to the bathroom? Would there be robbers? Fortunately, our van driver was driving way too fast to worry about any of those things.

Passing these little villages along the way was like getting snap shots into the daily lives of the regular people here. Their world is totally different from my own in so many ways.

All along the way, there were checkpoints, where the police officers would ask if we were Belgian, French, or German, find out we’re from “Etats-Unis”, then smile and let us by (after a toll of course). At each of these checkpoints, a whole bunch of kids would come up to the car to sell nuts, fruit, meat, toilet paper, really anything. Show me an American 10-year-old with that kind of drive.

They also sold beer and wine. To people driving. Only in Africa.

At the half-way point between Douala and Bamenda, there was a roadside stop where Roland said everyone would usually break for food. Offered a sample of something at the first little grill, I immediately took it of course – a bit spongy and peppery, but tasty. “You know what that is?”, the guy said. “Nope”. “It’s cow stomach.” Yummy.

As we climbed higher into the hills, the views were magnificent.

Cameroon, Day 4-5

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 08:29:58 -0500

We’ve been continuing our glorious ritual of eating incredible roasted fish with our hands. I could do this every day.

Roland gave me a great explanation of why you should be careful, but not scared of criminals in Cameroon and other African countries. I had never heard of Jungle Justice, but read into it, because it’s fascinating.

At the end of the day, you can reach the same goal of comfort here. Your teeth are brushed, you’re clean, you’re full, and you have fresh clothes. To achieve those goals just takes a little more time and energy than in a developed country.

That being said, I am realizing my dependence on the Internet, because this painfully slow connection is driving me insane.

I’ve met an exceptionally bright young lawyer with a sharp understanding of the economic and political problems of his country. I now understand that it’s unofficially run by the “equipe nationale”, which is made of top politicians and elite businessmen. Now it’s becoming clearer how this enormous gap between super-rich and poor exists.

It’s not just the wealth gap - the misallocation of resources is strikingly apparent. In a city of 2 million, there is a single one-road bridge that connects one half with the other. Everyone here hates that bridge and wishes it was different. But nothing happens.

There seems to be a tiny middle class in the city, but I don’t know if it’s growing or shrinking.

Speaking of that gap, the Cameroonian news was reporting on Occupy protests in the U.S., and suddenly it seemed a bit silly.

The kids here are extremely happy. They’re always just running around, and usually say ‘hi’ or wave. Today, I was called “Le Blanc!” and another kid yelled out “Hee Haw!” (because apparently I’m a cowboy. I have to admit that felt cool).

We met with a very well-respected engineer in Douala, and he is just about to start breaking ground on a massive new project, which is to build a piece of the new trans-African highway. He’s in charge of getting 30 gigantic decepticon-looking land-clearing machines (which weigh 65 tons each) hundreds of miles into the rain forest, and making sure nothing fails in this massive operation. I just found that really interesting and thought it would be worth sharing.

We also had a “moment” yesterday. We pulled into an auto yard with a repair shop, and there were two Chinese guys working. They both looked up at the car and saw Tyler, our Japanese engineer, and had a look on their face that was confused, excited, angry, befuddled, and amazed all at the same time. It was a moment.

So far, one of the biggest differences in third-world Africa is the mindset on going. In the US, when we have to go, we find a place to go. Here, when you have a place to go, you go, so when you don’t have a place to go, you don’t have to go.

Cameroon, Day 1-3

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 04:27:42 -0500

We just got to Cameroon on Tuesday night, and I’ve been carrying around a notebook and a camera to try to get a handle on just some of this stuff. I figure I’m going to keep these journal-ish entries pretty raw, literally just a record of the interesting things that happen (often copied directly from the journal). I’ll go into more depth about specific things (oh yeah, there are definitely some things that need to be talked about).

We start on the plane:

The Sahara Desert is overwhelmingly massive. Maps seriously don’t do it justice. Take your thumb and index finger to it and you’ll see it’s about the same size as the continental US.

By the time we’re past the desert, it’s dark. Everything on the ground is dark. All I see are little flickering bonfires (probably roaring flames in reality).

Until about 2 minutes before landing, there are just bonfires – no city lights, or even roads for that matter. Finally, I can see Douala when we’re a few thousand feet above it.

It’s hot, but not uncomfortable. This isn’t like the heavy, dead heat of August in New York.

The guy in front of us is pushing a woman in a wheelchair. When we reach a short flight of stairs, he simply picks it up and carries her down like it’s nothing. No escalator, no elevator, no ramp, no problem here.

After meeting up with Roland’s mother we walk outside, and I’m not going to lie, it’s intimidating. There are guys hustling all over trying to move bags for a couple of bucks, cars rolling through the crowd (somehow without hitting anyone. More on this later) and a cop threatening a guy with his baton.

We head out in two cars, and drive for about a half hour to the charming, quaint, haven’t-seen-a-cockroach-so-far-so-lets-cross-our-fingers Hotel du Rail, our home for this week. My room has a clean floor, toilet, working sink, power outlets, and a lock, so I can’t complain. Greg Skloot would love this place – pure functionality with none of the fluff.

After getting introduced to my first bit of African cuisine by Roland’s mother’s superb cooking, I discovered what a pineapple actually tastes like. I’ll never be the same again.

Roland then delivers a statement that nearly makes me jump out of my seat:

“It’s mango season.”

I find myself understanding the people better when they speak French than when they speak Pidgin English (which isn’t saying much, so about half the time I just smile and nod with a “Oui”).

We talk with Peter, a neighbor, family friend, and former school principle that tells us, “In our dialect, we have no word for uncle, aunt, nephew, niece, or cousin. Only father, mother, son, daughter, sister, and brother. If you are my father’s brother, you are my father. If you are my mother’s sister’s son, you are my brother. If you live nearby and you come to our door while we are eating dinner, come and sit with us. You are our son.”

He also gives me a thorough outline of some of the biggest problems facing Cameroon and Western Africa, and says that the solutions will start with young engineers coming, staying, and applying western technology to the African situation. Good thing we brought Tyler.

There are no traffic lights here. Also no railroad crossings. Or street names. Actually, there really aren’t any traffic laws.

Tires that are thrown out in the US are used as new tires here.

I have seen the light, and it is fresh fish, roasted over charcoal and eaten with your hands.

And this thing, bobola, is awesome:

We’re heading out to Bali - the village we’ll be at for most of the time here - on Saturday.

How Boston Can Actually Keep Talented Students

Sun, 29 Jan 2012 13:52:00 -0500

It seems that a big question of this past year for growing companies in Boston was “How do we attract the the top graduates from schools in our own backyard?”

This town has some really good things for attracting great students from places like MIT, Harvard, Northeastern, BU, and BC, like:

A resilient economy
Tons of resources for young professionals
Lots of things to do on weekends

However, I have a feeling this particular conversation is going to stick around for a while, because over the last few months, I’ve unfortunately seen what’s happening first hand.

I really like the city of Boston a lot, but of the people I know personally that are graduating this year with somewhat concrete plans, most of them are getting out of the city. They’re heading down to New York, or out west to California, Texas, Colorado, etc. In fact, I can only think of one person (outside healthcare, education, and finance) that has definite plans for Boston.

So what’s going on, and what can you do about it as a company?

First of all, think about the average 22-year-old’s life when they graduate from one of the dozens of schools up here. For at least four years, they’ve been simultaneously paying a huge tuition bill and living expenses in one of the most expensive cities in the country. That’s stressful and emotionally exhausting for anyone, let alone someone that doesn’t have their feet planted firmly underneath them yet. And these days, chances are that they’re stuck with a 5- or 6-digit student loan in their name.

As a student here - even if parents have helped out - you don’t go 4 years in a Boston college without a conversation like this with some other friend who went to school elsewhere:

Friend: “I just got an off campus apartment for the next year. It’s a little expensive though - $1,200.”

Poor Boston student: “Oh cool, that’s about the same as what I pay per month.”

Friend: “Dude, I was talking about $1,200 for the semester.”

Poor Boston student: …sobs silently on the inside as a single tear drips down his cheek…

Beyond the cost, of course, is the borderline ridiculous winter. Lots of people simply can’t/won’t do the cold. Some people can tolerate the weather, but dislike the colder New England vibe.

Put that stuff together, and it’s a challenging list of things Boston companies can’t do much of anything about:

It’s expensive for young people to live here.
Cold/Windy/Snowy days are at times demoralizing.
The general perception that Bostonians have less open attitudes than people elsewhere.

Take these two situations from a couple of sharp Northeastern students graduating this year:

One said frankly that he’s tired of the cold attitude of people here. The cost of living pushed him over the top, but it’s really important for him to be able to have friendly conversations with strangers everyday, and he couldn’t seem to find it in Boston.

Another took a trip out west and was amazed at how open people were to meeting with him, no matter how far apart their titles or resumes. He described that they would not only want to meet, but seriously go out of their way to be helpful and show that they genuinely cared - even for someone brand new to town. Again, he’s not finding that in Boston.

So as a CEO or manager at a Boston-based company that really wants to hire local graduating talent, you have a lot on your plate. It’s a challenge, but not impossible to overcome by any means. You have to create an offer that makes staying in Boston worth it - and it transcends the compensation package.

These are four of the best strategies I’ve come across (from both companies and graduating students):

Swap out your internship program with an apprenticeship program

There was just a article in Bostinno about apprenticeship for software engineers, and I think it’s a fantastic model that can be applied to any field with very strong mutual benefits. Boston has lots of masters at their respective crafts, but students rarely get to learn alongside them.

When a student or recent graduate gets into an internship, the thinking is usually along the lines of getting a feel for the company’s culture, learning some more about the industry, getting a bunch of busy work done, and adding a name to the resume for my career. When someone commits to an apprenticeship, they are planting roots with intentions of becoming a master, right now (it’s much less wishy-washy).

Provide a solid, well-publicized student loan assistance plan

The whole student debt bubble isn’t going away, so it’s going to be something we all have to deal with, however it hits us. We’re experiencing a wave of people that are moving out of Boston right after college for the sole purpose of saving money and paying off student loans. When you’re trying to recruit this generation (whether you’re Fortune 500 or a startup), you need to take this unprecedented issue into account.

These kinds of programs can be a risk, because you don’t want to invest heavily in a person that is not going to stick around and invest heavily in the company. But if you can make it well-known on campuses that you take care of people that are committed to delivering lasting value to the company by helping with their student loans, just watch the inbound interest spike.

Go Beyond the Career Fair

Or really, just skip it altogether. This is where companies in Boston have a huge geographic advantage.

Reach out to students in places where you can have real conversations. It will be a much better, more focused field for you to pinpoint some A-candidates, and they will tend to see you as a real, authentic person rather than a suit and job flyer.

The professionals in this city who I have the best relationships with were the ones that - after I introduced myself the first time in person or through email - actually invited me to grab some coffee or lunch, and just talk about stuff. Out of seemingly small acts of openness like that, I’ve had life-shaping experiences and formed strong friendships that are golden to me. They also could have never occurred without an unconventional meeting.

You’ll find awesome, hungry people at club meetings, college startup competitions, and at all sorts of diverse public activities on campuses around Boston.

Be disarmingly honest about your company and the job

This is perhaps the most important thing I can say about employing this generation. We are oversold a lot of things, and thus, feel compelled to oversell ourselves.

When a new hire emerges from an overhyped job description and embellished accomplishments, it’s just a ticking time bomb. That relationship won’t work, because it’s not built on trust.

If you are real with a talented college student you’re talking to, they will be real with you. That means explaining that sometimes the sales team is at odds with development, some days require staying until 8pm, the coffee could be better, but you’ll be solving real problems and building something awesome. Revealing shortcomings strips away that pressure to be “the one”, job candidates tend to feel which leads to impossibly perfect self-description.

These are just a few strategies, but I think success in attracting students in Boston ultimately comes down to being creative, accommodating, and real. And there’s one qualifier for every successful strategy you think of:

It won’t happen in your conference room.