There arise certain times in leadership when it transcends conventional boardroom and bureaucracy, and becomes a sheer moral obligation.

Crises: It’s when its true nature is most clearly revealed.

It’s when genuine leaders understand, perhaps better than anyone, that the real measure of this enterprise lies not in the comfort of high offices, but in the strength of character required to stand firm and be “there” come hell or high water, understanding that the role is not one of privilege, but of service.

Kamrul Hassan Tarafder was such leader.

Tarafder is the founder of ASA Philippines (one of the top microfinance NGOs in Southeast Asia), who had been with his people countless times when their ship was tossed in the waves.

In an interview with DAILY TRIBUNE, the former executive shares insights into how an unshakeable connection to the grassroots, especially in times when it’s the path of least resistance, has become the rock on which the success of ASA Philippines was built.

ASA has enabled millions of poor Filipino women, mostly mothers, to venture in small enterprises.

As of May 2024, the foundation has over P44-billion loan portfolio and fund balance or equity of over P23 billion, assisting its borrowers with its 12,125 staff in 1,814 branches across 82 provinces.

Tarafder had inspired many successes through the multimillion-dollar social advocacy he created, a use case he had shared in numerous academic engagements worldwide, including fellowships in Oxford and Harvard.

The expat from Bangladesh has been living in the Philippines with his family for almost 30 years, motivated by unrelenting social conscience and an immigrant’s passion for the place.

While many leaders solely rely on reports and statistics, you believe in personal engagement. This is especially true in times of disasters, such as ‘Yolanda’ in 2013. Given your experience on the ground with clients in the aftermath of the most devastating typhoon in history, why was it so important for you to be there with them during such a critical time? What has been the role of your brand of microfinance in disaster recovery and helping those who had lost everything rebuild?

When “Yolanda” hit Tacloban, it disabled all means with which I could communicate with my staff there. I was desperate to go. We narrowly managed to reach the city and, on the night we arrived shortly thereafter at the branch, it was pitch-dark, except for the frantic headlights of the tricycles.

We opened our eyes in the morning to see the full extent of the grisly aftermath that mingled with an eerie sense of calm and quiet: Nothing was standing, save for a few surviving clumps of bamboo trees violently twisted like a spool of grass. Nary a single house had a roof. People mourned their losses: missing or dead. They didn’t have as much chance to bury them as burn them.

No local government representatives were there. In their stead were the NGOs — ASA Philippines and Tzu Chi Foundation. I was there to find our members. I must find our clients, give them a hug. ‘Nanay, I found you! How are you doing? How is the family?’

Our business is microfinance, where money is just a means to establish friendship. First you create meaningful personal relationships, and it’s all downhill from there.

“Yolanda” taught us a lesson on ASA’s proprietary five steps to disaster recovery: Psychosocial intervention, provision of relief, giving grants to repair their house or start a business, giving Malasakit finance without charges (which they have to pay back over a long period of time), and assessing their condition whether it is time to give them commercial finance.

There is a mantra in every business that requires its operators to know their clients. Ours: ‘Be with your client.’

It was about the opportunity that allowed us to not only provide emergency loans and relief, but see firsthand the depth of the devastation and the unique needs of our clients to help them rebuild their livelihoods in a way that would make them more resilient to future disasters.

I regularly visited remote villages and rural communities to listen directly to our clients, understanding their struggles, their dreams and the unique challenges they face.

It’s through these direct interactions that we shaped the foundation’s policies and services, ensuring that ASA is not just a financial institution, but a true partner in the lives of the underserved.

I understood that, in the face of such will-sapping devastation, financial recovery would not suffice. What was needed was a sense of hope and community.

We developed a strategy that had costed ASA P110 million. In the “Yolanda” belt, our portfolio was around P365 million. We thought we had to write off everything. We recovered in an astonishing way.

People started realizing, ‘Hey! This is the microfinance institution that was with us from Day 1!’ Our growth was accelerated after six months so that it was three times higher than the figures pre-Yolanda.

ASA model in a nutshell.

In the benchmark Grameen Bank Model, five people come together, and they guarantee each other. One is in the meeting; the other four will shoulder his payments. In ASA, we had implemented this and we found that there is a built-in error in the system. People take loans for their family, not friends.

In ASA, the wife is the borrower; the husband, guarantor. The loans we extend is for the development of the finances within the family. Around 70 percent of our clients were able to step up the socioeconomic ladder from poverty to middle class. They’ve increased their family assets and savings.

The structure of loans and the involvement of family members in the borrowing process have impacted the success of ASA’s microfinance programs.

In a country where most survive paying credit with another line of credit, would it be safe to assume that your market is not financially literate? Alternatively, would macroloans, instead of microloans, be more effective in addressing the needs of the most vulnerable populations, and helping eradicate poverty in the Philippines?

There is always a link between microeconomy and macroeconomy. But poverty has constantly changed its designs.

For instance, everybody has a cellphone; they all converse via the Internet and they’re spending at least P500 on it. Twenty years ago, P500 was a big chunk of money!

People could not afford these things. If we could eliminate at least three unnecessary stipends — think gambling, alcoholism, smoking — poverty could be cut down in half. These things were prohibited at least during my time in ASA.

In communities where access to traditional banking is limited or nonexistent, small loans can be a lifeline.

These loans don’t just cover immediate needs; they provide people with the means to invest in small businesses, create jobs and build a sense of dignity and self-sufficiency.

You chased disasters instead of running away from them. But what you risk reveals what you value. What challenges have you faced in adopting a grassroots leadership approach, and how have they impacted your personal safety and well-being?

I was plying along NLEX to reach a local lending center, directly toward the path of a hurricane, when a tree trunk collapsed and almost hit my car.

It was in the thick of “Ondoy,” which left many parts of Luzon mired waist-deep in floodwater. It gave a satisfying feeling that there, deep in the mud, I walked alongside those we serve. It motivated them; made them feel they were included. It built trust and boosted their morale. More important, as is always the case with ASA, it demonstrated collaboration rather than hierarchy.

ASA Philippines has always been about building community networks that are mutually supportive.

Our disaster response deepened my understanding of what it means to lead with compassion, and informed broadly my leadership philosophy.

I was in Mamasapano in Maguindanao three months after that fateful massacre brought about seething hate and division between Muslims and Christians.

ASA, as a secular institution, must be able to do something.

We went to the ground zero and met with the rebels at Barangay Tukanalipao to assess their needs. It was very risky. But I had to make it know that I’m a Muslim brother. It was all the balm for me.

All the rebels asked of us was to help them improve their barangay health center, refurbish it to fully functionalize it. We provided different houses with water pumps and solar panels.

We furnished houses in a village in Mamasapano with sanitary toilets to eradicate open defecations.

(ASA has one branch in Mamasapano; 10 all over Maguindanao; 33 in all of Muslim Mindanao.)

I was there at the height of the 2017 Marawi siege. When push comes to shove, I should be there. I must be there.

I once contemplated opening a branch in Jolo, Sulu, and went to assess the conditions there. We were on a jeepney when it suddenly took a detour soon as we neared a bridge.

I could glean from the ensuing silence and palpable tension that something was amiss. Soon as we reached our destination, my companions heaved a sigh of relief, saying we could have died any minute. Turned out, a military jeep was blown up by rebels not long ago right where we just passed.

I was aware of the series of abductions there; there were even instances where they kidnapped Muslims.

When you are passionate about what you are doing, your safety would be the least of your concerns.