Horn, Ok, Please...?!?

…Never gets old!

India the second time around is so much better. Apologies for not blogging earlier – there just hasn’t been time! I arrived to Ahmedabad on Thursday night and met Denis Garand – the actuary from Canada that I have been speaking with and who has been assisting SEWA for over five years now. For those that don’t know, I’m here in India volunteering with the insurance branch of SEWA (called VimoSEWA – literally, Vimo means “insurance”). This involves a look at their current processes, exposures, claims, etc. in order to help advise the group on changes and / or recommendations that may make the plan more viable in the long-term. Yes, I am a big nerd. Denis calls it “Actuaries without borders”, which – for anyone that knows me – fits my personality completely.

What have I been doing? Actually, a ton of excel / access database work, and some analysis on their current claims and exposures. VimoSEWA provides a low-cost insurance for its poor and underpriveledged members. About 75% of them are members of SEWA bank which provides small business loans to those that for years have been thought of as “un-creditworthy.” Quite the contrary, SEWA (and microlending in general) have a higher repayment rate than the general population! Some estimates are conservative at 95% but others go as high as a 98% repayment rate. A number of theories exist for why exactly this is, but one of the most prevalent and convincing is that these people’s lives depend on these loans. Also worthy of mention is that almost all of the loans are to women and the primary insured for VimoSEWA is likewise women. I’ve said this so many times before – both on this blog and elsewhere – the real change, the real movement, the real progression in India, in South Africa, almost anywhere – is coming from women. Time and time again, I’ve seen that despite their social repression as a sex, they continually find a way to empower themselves – to find strength amidst the weakest of circumstances, to seek revolution amongst the most stagnant environments. The men (sorry guys) are continually absent, drunk (sorry to stereotype…) and otherwise non-existent.

The basic structure of VimoSEWA provides life, accident, asset (ie. Flood) and health insurance. For the most part, the other sectors are in a more-or-less viable position, meaning they have reached a point where their premiums can cover their claims each year. The main problem, and the main area of my analysis is the health side, which is also the most important to its insured. Without boring you, so far I’ve been collecting and scrubbing data regarding the 2006 claims and attempting to project 2007 claims (including Incurred But Not Reported – IBNR claims). For any actuaries / fellow Waterloo alumnis – think Robert Brown, Actsci 363 and that little white textbook (in fact, the two things I wish I had brought the most are that textbook and my HP calculator). As Denis explained to me, VimoSEWA has come a long way since when he first started. Their data collection has improved substantially (which is important when it comes to setting rates), they’ve made large advances in communicating and explaining the concept of insurance to their members, they have moved to a cashless system in some urban areas (this allows the hospital costs to be paid directly by the insurer at the hospital, rather than have the member pay the amount and be reimbursed later), the list goes on. The important thing to note, however, is that they’re slowly proving their opponents wrong – that there is a way to make a viable system of insurance for a low premium and high-risk individuals. Microinsurance is receiving some of the same resistance that microlending first received, before it reached fairly considerable notoriety and approval when Grameen Bank’s founder, Mohammed Yunus won the Nobel Peace Prize. And VimoSEWA continues to be the example to which other microinsurance projects turn for best practices and ideas.

My guess is that I may be boring some of you – these aren’t as fun as the stories about Naledi, Wandele, Nokubonga and the Agape kids, or even Anita, Sonal, and the other Goraj girls for that matter. For the most part, it’s a lot like working in an American company at a cube (I even have a cube at SEWA!). But for me, this is a more powerful difference – less fun, but certainly, more powerful.

I started to remember all the things I used to love about India. How the scariest rikshaw and scooter rides can somehow be thrilling and peaceful at the same time. How family that you barely know and people that you’ve just met can welcome you into their home and their lives without a second thought. How the little tailor in the tiny store in Alkapuri will remember not only you but the sari blouse he stitched for you three years ago. How strangely efficient some of the most random tasks can be when you least expect it. How strong – how resourceful – how resilient Indian women can be despite the direst of circumstances. How that butterscotch ice cream cone from any corner store in India is better than any dessert I’ve ever tried after three years of living in Manhattan. How you can be in the midst of a sea of people, of cows, of rickshaws, of scooters, of cars – of any and every vehicle possible – and still somehow feel at peace. How good the paw bhaji off the street tastes (and how sick it can make you afterwards). How the intensity of the traffic makes you feel as though accidents must happen all the time, but that in India, these things tend to work themselves out most of the time.

Anyways, tomorrow I am off with Falguniben to Mehsana – a fairly rural district to help with their “Zhumbasha” – the yearly campaign to get people to sign up for a year’s worth of insurance coverage.

Until then – take care everyone!

Love,
Resh.

PS - Yes, mom and dad - I have been riding Hamendrakaka's scooter. And no - I have not been wearing a helmet.