Affordable reading glasses improve the health and productivity of low-income consumers in rural India.
April 2006: An hour and a half outside of Hyderabad, we turn off the main road, passing bright green rice paddies and wheat fields, and arrive in Ramalu, a village of 5,000, mostly farmers. Arunesh and Raman, the director and marketing manager of Scojo respectively, have brought us here and are eager to show us how much has changed since our last visit.
The village is a cluster of pristine white houses with blue and green doors, and at the edge of the village is a huge field of sunflowers. Ramalu is not the poorest of villages, although not a wealthy one either. We estimate that households earn $2- $4 a day but this is just a guess – enough to live, with a little bit of disposable income left as well.
We meet the area’s vision entrepreneur, a lovely 24 year-old women who wears the blue Scojo clinician’s jacket over her lavender salwar khameez. Her commissions from Scojo sales, averaging $20 a month (for 20 pairs of glasses sold), supplement the meager pay she earns from her full-time employer, a local NGO focused on women’s reproductive health. She explains that she works for Scojo because she wants to do something good for the community, and because the extra income means she is now comfortable enough financially to feel she has choices.
We accompany her to a household expecting her visit. She brings her “kit-in-a-box” which includes a 10-foot string to measure the distance needed for eye-testing, both for near- and far- sightedness. The first woman tested needs the glasses and buys a pair. So does a neighbor who comes around. Everyone else stands outside, just watching. The crowd becomes so large that I find it hard to see anything.
I walk down the dirt road to a sundry shop and tea stand and sit down next to a man who looks to be in his late 40s, dressed in a white dhoti with a white turban – farmer’s clothing. I nod hello and just sit for a moment, watching an older women pour tea. I have two pairs of Scojo’s reading glasses with me, one that I bought for myself and one that is for a friend who is older – so two different strengths. We don’t share a language in common but I point to the glasses and ask the man if he wants to try a pair. He smiles and tries the weaker strength. A Scojo team member comes and translates for me. The man tells us he is 48 and though he’s a farmer, he comes from a family that also does tailoring and he finds he can no longer thread a needle.
He likes the glasses, likes that he can see better. I ask him what he would be willing to pay for such a pair of glasses. He answers “250 rupees” – about $5.50, a good sign. I tell him the Scojo price of $3 and ask whether he wants to get his eyes tested. He nods. The Scojo team member shows him the benefits of the glasses – strong frame, good springs, comfortable nose pad. We play with the different strengths and he finds the one that works. He’s not sure about the style though and calls to his friends to help him choose. He then goes into his house, a few meters away, and returns with his money but not before I catch him turning this way and that to check his new look out in the mirror.