Articles by Yehia Houry

Yehia Houry, a 2009 - 2010 Acumen Fund Fellow, is spending the year working with 1298, the first reliable emergency medical response service in Mumbai and other major cities in India. He has experience as a financial analyst, focused on access to financing for the poor. Yehia holds a Masters in International Affairs from Columbia University.

Whoever said living in India was cheap?

Certainly not someone who would have followed my friend’s recommendation to check out Aer, the newest addition to Mumbai’s hip social scene. Sitting on top of one of the fanciest 40-something-floor hotel in the city, this rooftop lounge is one of the most stunning bars I have ever been to.

With an incredible view of the sun setting behind the Arabian Sea, an “atmosphere that redefines the notion of freedom,” and a Moet & Chandon glass in hand, what more could you ask for? Classy weights to hold down champagne flutes on the lavish coffee tables? check. Stylish mini-torches to read the Mediterranean tapas menu? You got it. Quite simply, things can’t get any better.

But everything has a price, especially in Mumbai. A few weeks ago, Aer’s manager was quoted as saying that “All you can see is the sea and the lights of Mumbai spread out like a blanket beneath you.” Well, that is certainly true. But what is also true is that if you look down instead of looking over to far-away cruise ships sailing across the Indian Ocean, you would see dark, disorganized areas of the city, appearing almost blurred from the fortieth floor. Below you are some of the world’s largest urban slums.

My biggest culture shock in India has not been the omnipresent abject poverty, or the constant deafening noise, or the thousands of people crammed together in the rickety commuter trains. Ironically, it has been the incredible wealth that sits right next to absurd poverty. More than half of Mumbai lives in slums, yet it is home to the richest collective of billionaires in the world – ahead of New York and London. With 0.00001% of India’s population now accounting for a quarter of its trillion-dollar gross domestic product, the wealth disparity is enormous.

And yet, it seems to make sense to everyone but me. My middle-class Indian friends have reinforced this many times when they say: “Of course it’s normal that the rich and the poor live next to each other… The rich live here and require services, so the poor come in to fulfill that demand.” It doesn’t shock anyone that you could pay 22,000 rupees to get into a new year’s eve party, much more than the national yearly income. And no one seems to mind that the office I work in, which has air-conditioning, wireless internet, and biometric fingerprint security, sits literally across the street from hundreds of temporary workers and their families – we’re talking dozens of children per street block – who cook, eat, bathe and sleep on the dirty sidewalks every night.

In that sense, India is quite different from Africa, where the rich are merely middle-class, the poor and the rich are typically segregated, and the ultra-rich promptly shift their assets (and themselves) out of the country. Yes, as an expat in Africa, I certainly felt wealthy, privileged, or just plain lucky. But here, holding a glass of one of the most expensive champagnes in the world, surrounded by the cream of the crop of Indian society and looking down on more than six million human beings living in slums forty floors below, I can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of a sick joke that everyone, including myself, is somehow part of.

I’m writing this post on the 16-hr plane ride from New York to Mumbai (via Qatar), thinking about the hectic but exciting past ten days.

Near the end of our time in New York we learned how to shoot and edit videos. Initially, I thought that this video training - with a tough coach teaching us the surprisingly strict conventions for video shooting and editing - was going to be the most difficult part of the week.

But that was before we started the Acumen Fund investment case competition. We split up into two teams, each with five Fellows, and began carefully examining our (simulated but based on real-life) assigned venture’s financial data and business plan. Looking for a success story we could present — and loopholes the Investment Committee may pick up on — we did not leave anything to chance. Market study, risk analysis, social impact, and financial sustainability were just a few of the factors we looked at to convince the Committee to put their money in our investment. A tough, high-stress experience, but definitely one I won’t forget anytime soon.

The minute we closed our cases, while the verdict was still out on our respective investment proposals, we rushed to the Rubin Museum to rehearse our performance for the Investor Gathering the next day. Acumen Fund’s annual IG was the perfect way to end what has been a challenging but extremely rewarding two months in New York. Meeting all of our supporters in person at the IG has shown me just how close knit the community around us really is, and how, as one of our directors puts it, the community is an expression of the power of shared ideas and of uncompromising commitment. I am proud to be part of this organization.

Back here in my uncomfortable plane seat, already falling victim to jetlag-induced insomnia, I take a step back and attempt to give the Fellowship a broader view. While thinking about the future, I can’t help but look at the recent past, with 19 out of the 24 previous Fellows now working in 10 countries as professionals in the social sector. And as I reflect on how I got here, I think about the snowball effect this program has witnessed over the past few months, recently culminating with 568 individuals from 65 countries vying for the ten positions on the 2011 Fellows team.

But looking at the present moment, my thoughts are invariably drawn to my own cohort, all incredibly diverse individuals spanning national, economic, ethnic, religious, social, and political boundaries. As we make our way over to our investee placements, I wonder what they are all thinking on their own plane rides, and what expectations and apprehensions might be racing through their minds when their aircrafts finally touch the ground. For the time being, I am leaving you with a map showing where each of this year’s 10 Fellows will be spending the year.

Stay tuned.

View Acumen Fund 2010 Fellows in a larger map

Each year as part of their training in New York, the new class of Acumen Fund fellows is sent out into the city armed only with a $6 metro card, a $5 bill, and their IDs. Their mission is to experience the challenges of obtaining basic services with these meager, minimal resources; in the course of the day, they stand in soup kitchens, visit shelters, and attempt access to medical care. Over the next week, we will be sharing their experiences on our blog. The first comes from Yehia Houry.

After training, Yehia will spend the year working with 1298, the first reliable emergency medical response service in Mumbai and other major cities in India. He has experience as a financial analyst, focused on access to financing for the poor. Yehia holds a Masters in International Affairs from Columbia University.

Waiting in line outside a soup kitchen in some forgotten corner of New York, I look around the courtyard. I am new to this scene and to be honest, I am not really sure how I   ended up here.

The overwhelmingly male crowd is waiting for the doors to open, killing time chatting with their neighbors in line. Some are restless; others are drunk, while some look relaxed, or high. They all look tired.

I notice a curious pattern of activity developing. Every couple of minutes someone walks over to a guy sitting on a ledge, smoking a cigarette. They talk to him for a moment and then receive what looks like a small green ball wrapped in plastic film. I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that drug trafficking would be a pretty common thing here.

Now it is time to eat. Everyone stands up, silently filing through the doors, down the stairs to the basement. There is neither pushing nor fighting; everyone patiently waits for their turn.

“What’s for lunch?” I hear someone shout.

As I sit down, I notice that the meal the man sitting on my right is eating differs from my own. I was pretty hungry, so I just took everything that was being offered. “Why are our dishes different?” I ask.

“I just don’t feel like eating meat today, this is the vegetarian option” he responds, surprising me.

Shortly thereafter, I overhear a conversation between the two guys sitting across from me. “Are you going for seconds? I hear they have enough for us to go back and get some more.”

“No second round for me today, last time I came here I was so full I had to throw out half of it.” This exchange too surprises me.

As I continue eating my plentiful meal, I turn to the man sitting next to me, trying to strike up a conversation, and ask, “Hey, do you know where I can spend the night tonight?”

He stares back at me with a look of disgust and says, not without obvious pride, “I don’t go to shelters, I have my own place.” Again, this surprises me.

Suddenly, the neighbor to my right turns to me and says “Hey amigo, do you want some of this?” I look over to see that he is offering me a bit of the green substance being traded in the courtyard. As I open my mouth to politely refuse, I look down, startled, realizing that what I was staring at - the green ball that earlier I imagined was some kind of drug - is simply hot chili pepper.

Out of the blue, something dawns on me: the reason that I am having a meal punctuated with so many surprises, really many of them minor epiphanies, was because my prejudices were so strong going into the experience

I found myself surprised by peoples’ reactions to my prodding questions, by the thoughtful discussions they carried on with one another - even by their personal bearing - because I had not expected to find dignity in a site as austere as some forgotten soup kitchen, in a far corner of an imposing and massive city.

But of course what I learned at the kitchen is just how tenacious, pervasive, and unexpected dignity can be.

That is, there is dignity that inheres, I learned, in being selective about your meal, wherever you eat it and even if it is given to you for free. There is dignity in refusing to waste food, even if you are often hungry. There is an essential dignity of living in your own home, even if supplying your own lunch is still not possible. And, finally, there is dignity in bringing and sharing your favorite flavorings so that you and your friends can enjoy the meal as you would at your own home.

I just never expected to find such dignity in such a place. How wrong I was.