labor dispute

So, I am finding myself straddling both sides of a labor dispute. Of all the predicaments I pictured myself landing in while working in a refugee camp; unwitting mediator of a labor conflict was not among them. It’s an almost surreal situation, and don’t even know where to begin.

I spent my first 3 months here working as a teacher in the 3rd grade. This was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and it gave me a new respect for the local teachers who do this work every day nearly year round. These teachers make 150,000 cedis (around $15) each month. It’s not enough to live on and it is about half as much as other teachers on camp earn. All 70 CBW local volunteers earn the same stipend, whether they are teaching, cleaning drains, or doing HIV outreach. But the teachers work longer hours and have a more demanding job. They are understandably disgruntled, and I sympathize with their cause. While working as a teacher I sat in meetings with them and strategized ways to appeal for more money. I encouraged them to work hard at making a case for why they should earn more money than other volunteers because the administration would argue that if the teachers received an increase, all of the other volunteers would ask for one. Unfortunately, they did not take this tack and the discussion ended up about an across the board increase, which would be harder to achieve. Much of the x-mas break was spent in heated 5 hour meetings that ended in impasses.

Now, I am no longer working as a teacher, but am part of the administration. I attend senior staff meetings and help make decisions that concern the entire organization. I guess that makes me “the man.” But the teachers still trust me and appeal to me to argue on their behalf. However, now I see the other side’s perspective as well. CBW started because Semeh (the director) saw the need for street kids to be educated. He had no budget and relied solely on volunteers, teaching classes out of his house. He now has a budget (from international volunteer program fees), a school building, and has slowly begun to pay his volunteers. And this pay has been increasing each year. Other schools on camp charge school fees up to $30 per term. His school reaches the poorest kids charging only $1.50 per term and half of these 600 kids are on scholarship, paying almost nothing. This is why he cannot pay his teachers what they deserve. (What school system in the world really pays teachers what they deserve?) To him, he is providing the income he can to the teachers on a camp where the unemployment rate is above 90% and people are desperate for any kind of work, and he is reaching the kids who are least likely to otherwise receive an education. Even so, when the teachers went to him to ask for more money, he asked them to be patient while CBW reviewed their finances to see if there was room for an across the board increase. In addition, he started requesting funds from UNHCR, which has money available to promote education on camp. But this process has been to slow. The teachers feel as though the administration is stalling, and the administration feels as though the teachers are impatient and ungrateful.

Needless to say, negotiations did not go very smoothly. One five hour meeting ended when an exasperated Semeh told the teachers that if they didn’t like the pay they could just quit. By the time I heard this, that comment was a thorn in their side about as big as the pay issue. So, tensions were high at the start of the second term.

When I met with the teachers and asked them if they would strike, they laughed at the idea, telling me, “we will not resort to violence.” I started to think that maybe this was a strategy only empowered workers with a sense of rights living in a place with reasonably low unemployment rates could employ and even felt foolish for making such a culturally inappropriate remark. But early this week, I received a letter from almost all of the teachers saying that they would “lay down their chalk” until the matter was resolved.

So, when I showed up for the first day of class with a fresh batch of international volunteers to help teach, I was met by teachers refusing to enter the classrooms! The kids, dressed in their uniforms were waiting in the classrooms to be taught, but the teachers refused to enter. The prior week, the international volunteers went to class every day, but the kids did not show up. Because there is no effective way disseminate information on camp, rumors prevail. And the rumor (untrue) was that school would not start until the following week. So, the new volunteers were eager to teach all these kids who had finally showed up but needed the aid of the local teachers, who now decided not to teach. The first week the teachers came, but the kids did not. Now the kids were here, but the teachers were not. They international volunteers felt divided loyalties. Some did not want to be considered “scabs” (something I’m sure they forgot to worry about when they were packing their bags) or show disloyalty to the teachers they would be working beside for the rest of the time here, but they also felt that they were here for the children first and foremost.

So, I’m smack dab in the middle of this rift. Having taught, I sympathize with the teachers. In my position as the international volunteer coordinator, I am concerned that the new volunteers are not being permitted to do what they came here to do. As part of the administration of CBW, I am frustrated that the school is falling apart (the school supervisor resigned amidst the controversy). But most of all I’m looking at the kids in their new uniforms and just feeling sad that no one is teaching them. So, that day, everyone from other departments, including myself, filled in the gaps and taught while Semeh met with the teachers.

That meeting went about as well as the ones prior. Semeh begged the teachers to wait until the following Wednesday when he could find out if there was enough money for an increase and get it approved by the board of director. But they refused to enter the classrooms unless he could provide them each with a 20 pound bag of rice. This proved impossible to procure by the following school day, so they were at an impasse. Since he was faced with need to open school the following day, Semeh dismissed the teachers so that he could find replacements by the next day. And by dismissed, I mean fired!

This was heartbreaking. The teachers came by and thanked us for working with them and said goodbye. But for some reason it did not feel final. I know my co-teacher did not want to leave the kids and was certainly unprepared to lose his job. I spoke to Semeh in private later and he said that if any of the teachers came back to him that night they could have their jobs back. I spread this word, and some of them did. The next day some taught and some were replaced for that day. But the remaining teachers (now divided and confused) were still trying to negotiate. Semeh, who never wanted to fire them in the first place, was open to accepting all of them back. So, after more discussion almost all of the teachers are back and holding their breath for a pay increase. So, I’m spending the weekend with the board reviewing the finances and writing UNHCR for funding.

It’s a really interesting kind of labor struggle. In a community where everyone hustles to make ends meet and steady employment is the exception, it is really an employers market. I suppose you could view low pay as exploitative of the situation. But it’s a refugee settlement and the fact that people are entrepreneurial enough to put together an organization that provides any kind of income for others is impressive. Commonly people are simply thankful for whatever work they can get. The other dynamic at play is that CBW is moving from an all volunteer organization to paying employees. Those who were willing to work for free have different motives, expectation and work ethics than those who were hired as payed employees. This would be a great case study for an organizational theory or labor relations class. But I’m sure I’ll be able to look at this with detached fascination once I’m out of the thick of the crisis. Hopefully soon!