Discovering Design

A project that I’ve been working on for the past few weeks is to dig through Acumen’s energy portfolio and pull out some of the organization’s learnings over the seven years’ worth of investments they have made in this sector. It has been exciting to see that user-centered design (even if it isn’t always articulated and credited as such!) is increasingly being appreciated in the context of product development even in low-income markets.

One of Acumen’s most successful investments is d.light, a company that provides affordable solar powered products – from lanterns to solar home systems – to markets in developing countries that have limited access to reliable electricity from the grid. Their success has largely been attributed to the fact that they pay close attention to user feedback, and have iterated and built their product lines accordingly. This seems intuitive to a designer – design is by definition social and about adding value. However, what was most interesting was how over the course of their journey, the company discovered that their best selling product was in fact not the cheapest one (a lantern for approx $8), but the one that was significantly more expensive and offered the highest value (a lantern + phone charger, at approx $25). As the market for mobile phone is steadily increasing, consumers are looking for energy solutions that not only provide light, but also a means for them to charge their phones – and are therefore willing to pay a higher price for a technology that serves both needs.

This is a lesson learned for both investors and designers. For investors, it’s that it is equally to bet on the right teams as it is to bet on technology – in the case of d.light, the team listened for feedback, stayed flexible in terms of development, and pivoted their products depending on customer needs. For designers, which is what’s relevant for me, it’s the willingness to be surprised.

The initial assumption for d.light, and for many designers and entrepreneurs working in the development space, is that products and services should be as cheap and affordable as possible, because the poor don’t have money. I wouldn’t argue that the poor do have lots of money to spend, but I think the lesson learned here is that it’s more important to understand what they’re willing to spend their money on – what the value add of the product is to their life – than how much we think that they would be willing to pay.

In thinking about my thesis, a large part of the discussion on homelessness and the Shelter System in New York is to do with costs. The City spends up to $3,000 per family per month in the existing system – a figure that many individuals, rightly so, have pointed out is absurdly high. At the same time, the kind of housing being made available to them even after spending $3,000 every month is in many cases appalling, barely meeting minimum living standards or providing basic services.

The assumption, again, is that the city’s homeless population is better off being provided with sub-standard housing than by being handed a subsidy or a cash transfer, empowering them to find housing and make decisions on how to spend the money themselves.

We set off to visit the home in Badlapur, an upcoming suburb in Thane district, on a sweltering summer morning. An hour and a half later, miles away from the city center, our car rolled off the main road in to a small lane that could best be described as a dirt track. A charming, dusty, two-storied cottage stood before us, with no sign outside and a barbed wire fence surrounding it. I was told that they wanted to attract as little attention as possible, for the safety of the children.

As we walked in we were greeted by a chorus of little voices singing “Good morning, Madam!” The kids from the shelter were lined up in rows on the stairwell at the entrance, beaming from what appeared to be a lot of excitement to see us. I was told they loved visitors (which they didn’t have very often), and loved showing off their bunks to them.

The little girls and boys had separate dorms on separate floors, and I was struck by how colorful and airy the inside of the cottage was. Their bunk beds were lined up against the walls of each room, with plenty of space in the middle, and enough space for each child to feel like their bunk was their own. A little girl who couldn’t have been more than 5 years old, and a budding athlete, proudly showed me her medals and certificates on display in the shelves next to her bed. Another 7 year old boy had pasted a collection of drawings around his bed. Almost all of them took earnest pride in keeping their own spaces clean and tidy.

I was told that the shelter had purposefully been designed to make sure the children had enough space to live in. Growing up in tiny cell like rooms in Kamathipura, Mumbai’s infamous red-light district, frequently cramped living conditions were all the children knew. Keeping space in mind, the organization has also constructed a soon to be opened school, whose design is intentionally modular, allows for lots of natural light, and open. My friend could not stress more how the impact of actually feeling free physically made on feeling free mentally and psychologically – and the primary role that the shelter and the school’s built environment played on their development.

It brought me back to the design of family shelters in New York, and the low priority given to ensuring living environments that are decent and spacious enough for children to spend a portion of their childhoods in. It also prompted me to further research the effects of physical built environments on children – both in the home as well as in the neighborhood – to understand more fully what the baseline requirements should be for shelters to not impair child development for reasons that can be avoided [see post].