Moderator: 3ne2nr Mods
dogg wrote:That's a real editorial??
What an uneducated illiterate bunch of claptrap
Guardian gone to the pothongs oui.
VexXx Dogg wrote:I'm wondering if that's an actual editorial or a letter to the editor that got misposted.
If that's the real editorial, lulz
RedVEVO wrote:^^
The are lots of private investments that people get involved in that has been excellent for years .
Sou Sou schemes have always been attractive .
It just matters your aversion to risk .
MG Man wrote:RedVEVO wrote:^^
The are lots of private investments that people get involved in that has been excellent for years .
Sou Sou schemes have always been attractive .
It just matters your aversion to risk .
traditional sou sous were never about profit though
These ppl promising investment growth....it's a VERY different thing
NEW YORKERS & CO.; Newcomers Savings and Loan
By Sasha Abramsky
Oct. 22, 2000
WHEN Jemma Legall Romain moved to New York from Trinidad in 1984, she flew on a ticket her mother had bought for her through a saving system known as a susu. Years later, when Ms. Romain had to raise money toward the down payment on her three-family house in Bedford-Stuyvesant, she too saved money in a susu. After she bought the house, she made it pay for itself by renting out two floors.
Though a staple of immigrant communities, susus are little known outside of them. The name is thought to have evolved from the West African Yoruba word ''esusu,'' which means roughly ''pooling the funds.'' In New York, such pooled funds are staples of Trinidadian immigrant communities, and, with variants, of many other immigrant groups.
Susus are generally made up of groups of family members or friends, each of whom pledges to put a certain amount of money into a central pot each week. That pot, presided over by a treasurer, whose honesty is vouched for by his or her respected standing among the participants, is then given to one member of the group.
Over the course of a susu's life, each member will receive a payout exactly equal to the total he has put in, which could range from a handful of dollar bills to several thousand dollars; members earn no interest on the money they set aside. After a complete cycle, the members either regroup and start over or go their separate ways.
''It's how our parents, and their parents, used to save their money,'' said Ms. Romain, 39, who is the office manager at the Central Brooklyn Partnership, a community organization.
As hundreds of thousands of immigrants settled in the city during the 1990's, increasing numbers brought with them informal, bankless savings habits. With immigration showing no sign of slowing -- the New York Department of City Planning estimating that 113,000 immigrants a year settled in the city in the last decade, up from 80,000 annually in the 1970's and 1980's -- this trend is likely to accelerate.
As a new, high-tech century dawns, the susu is one of the key mechanisms helping immigrants in this city of immigrants succeed in their new world. Susu-type organizations are, quite simply, the lifeblood for much of New York's immigrant community. Even some children of immigrant families save this way, chipping in a dollar a week of their lunch money.
There is no legal penalty if a member fails to make regular contributions, which can range from a few dollars to several hundred dollars per week, but the power of community sanction is strong. In the rare case that someone fails to pay, ostracism or, occasionally, violence can result. Those lacking the strength of character to save consistently on their own are propelled by a moral obligation toward other group members.
Madeline Lamour, who works with Ms. Romain at the Central Brooklyn Partnership, directs a self-help group for women from Bedford-Stuyvesant called the Sisters Lending Circle. As part of the program, Ms. Lamour enrolls her clients in a susu run out of the partnership's offices.
''It forces you to save,'' Ms. Lamour said. ''The susu gives us a sense of, 'Yes, I can manage my own money.' It's a form of lending to ourselves, to each other. It makes us responsible for each other's dreams.''
In countries in which banks were either not trusted or the preserve of the rich, informal savings networks developed as crucial support systems for poor residents.
''Susus,'' Ms. Romain said proudly, ''sent us to school, helped my mother do renovations on her house back in my country. Susus give you an education, put a roof over your head when the bank denies you cash.''
Nobody knows exactly how much money flows through these savings and loan units, but, with tens of thousands of people contributing upward of $100 at a time, a conservative estimate would put the total at millions of dollars a week. And, while this is primarily a New York phenomenon, the national figure might be tens of millions.
The terminology varies. Trinidadians talk about susus, Haitians have mens, Jamaicans save in partners, Guyanans refer to the box, and Dominicans have sams or sociadades. Korean, Portuguese and Jewish immigrants also use community-based savings systems. In some communities, virtually every first-generation immigrant participates, using the money to pay off loans, make down payments on houses or cars, and start small businesses. For many who are low on the economic ladder, susus are the first rung toward the American dream.
NEW YORK being New York, even the city's banks and mortgage lending institutions are taking them seriously, using susu membership as a criteria to help establish a person's credit-worthiness.
''We have accepted this form of nontraditional savings for the last four or five years,'' said Jackie O'Garrow, senior deputy director at the New York office of the Fannie Mae Foundation, which helps banks channel mortgage loans into underserved areas. ''We call it a 'specific variant.' We were hearing from our members that with the growth of the immigrant community this is a very frequent practice.''
Many banks have developed formal systems so participation in a susu can help someone seeking a loan.
''We'd ask for a notarized letter from the treasurer stating how long the individual has participated in the susu and how many people are involved,'' said John Hill, a spokesman for Dime Savings Bank. Dime is among several New York banks that consider membership in a susu when determining the financial viability of an applicant for a mortgage.
Even when banks aren't involved, immigrant savings groups propel many from being poorly paid casual laborers into self-employment.
In October, a Dominican immigrant named Victor Auzon realized a dream he had nurtured since arriving in Washington Heights 12 years earlier: he bought his own Lincoln Town Car. After working for years in low-level jobs in a factory, a sweatshop and a bodega, he went into the livery cab business, but he found himself paying $1,200 a month to rent his taxicab from a dispatch service. Now, thanks in part to money from a susu, he owns his car.
Mr. Auzon, 44, is one of 18 friends, the self-styled ''corre caminos,'' or street runners, all of whom drive taxis in Washington Heights and have spent the last few years aggressively saving to buy their own cars. Every week, each man contributes $250 of the $900 he earns into the sociedad.
This money, combined with low-interest loans provided to immigrant business owners by an organization called Accion New York, lets the cabbies assemble the sizable down payments, more than $10,000, needed to buy their vehicles, which can cost more than $30,000. Today, most of the men are now driving their own cars.
''The sociedad,'' said Jose-Luis Bido, the group's treasurer, ''makes us responsible. It forces us to save because we're committing ourselves to other people. Every Dominican uses sociedades. My mother, my father, my brother, my sister. Everyone I know.''
A version of this article appears in print on Oct. 22, 2000, Section 14, Page 4 of the National edition with the headline: NEW YORKERS & CO.; Newcomers Savings and Loan.
© 2020 The New York Times Company
ProtonPowder wrote:A sou sou is an interest free form of saving where your input always equals your payout. It was just better to save that for way at a point in time for some folks because there was less to spend after you paid in, same as if you have a direct deposit to a savings account you never touch.
This is a pyramid scheme with a patois name to fool people, and get shelter from detractors by claiming they against the colcha.
RedVEVO wrote:^^
When Sou Sou raise $94 Million ( alleged ) via Sou Sou whatever and Central Bank Governor searching for answers ..
You got to think .. and ask in this OLE TALK MACO FORUM
Why Burke (RIP) had $12 Million (alleged) in that Sou Sou Fund ?
maj. tom wrote:Now that selected flights are starting to open back, don't be surprised if some of the Ponzi schemers suddenly start to disappear without a trace. Case closed eh? Sou-Sou my ass.
RedVEVO wrote:^^
Why would you want to take people's money ?
If they want to take the risk , why not ..
Maybe you do not understand how it works