One of my favorite parts of the time I spend in Uganda working on product development is visiting the homes of our artisans.

Each time I visit I am flooded with a wealth of love, generosity, SPIRIT, and ALIVENESS that makes my heart glow.

A few days ago I visited Joyce and her three sons – Paul, Mark, and Solomon. Joyce is one of Fair Earth’s paper beaders. Incidentally, we are neighbors in Uganda, as their home is just a short walk from where I stay in Luzira.

I was greeted warmly and served a delicious lunch of matoke, pumpkin, rice, and soup upon arriving. I immediately noticed the incredibly creative Christmas decorations in their home – Paul, Joyce’s eldest son, had cut his old school papers into triangular shapes and strung them along the ceiling to create a festive holiday atmosphere. The breeze coming through the door made the papers flutter and cast sparkling shadows throughout the room – it was absolutely delightful.

We spent the afternoon looking through photos, exchanging stories, and then working on new products.

“My mom is a good mom,” Paul told me proudly as we looked through their family photo album. “She takes very good care of us.”

All three boys adore their mom. I gave Joyce some glass beads for her to use in supplementing her paper bead designs, and immediately the boys were looking for colors that would compliment their mother’s dress.

As the stories kept coming, I learned more about their love and respect for her—it is based upon a very real knowledge of how hard their mom works to put them through school. Joyce did not get an education, which means her opportunities for employment are limited. Yet she has worked tirelessly so that her children will have more opportunities than she does.

Her pathway to her current work – making beads from recycled newspapers and magazines – has not been easy. She worked for a year and a half with NO PAY for the current mayor of Uganda cleaning up the streets of developing neighborhoods. I was heart-broken by the story. With no money for transport, she would leave home before the sun rose to walk hours to their work destination, pushing forward upon the promise of pending money, which never came. After becoming weak and sickly from long days of work with no food, Joyce’s mom told her she would die if she continued and taught her how to make paper beads as an alternative. That was eight years ago. I asked her if she took any action to try to get the money she was promised, and she replied, “there is nothing we can do. We are poor and uneducated. We have no power over the government. We would maybe have a voice if we had a lawyer, but we have no money for lawyers. So we just move on.”

These stories of injustice fill me with frustration and ANGER. However, I am also inspired and hopeful to be a part of a fair trade movement which puts people FIRST – a movement where respect, fairness, and integrity take precedence, and where success NEVER comes at the expense of another’s exploitation.

I am also happy to be working with Joyce, and delighted to see the joy and hope not only in her face, but also in the faces of her children!

Thanks for your support,

Sincerely,

Holly Elzinga

©2010 Fair Earth | Andersonville Galleria - 5247 N. Clark St. Chicago IL 60640

Dear Friends and Supporters of Fair Earth,

I hope all is well!

I am writing to introduce you to one of our newest artisans - Cornelius - and his beautiful hand-made photo frames.

This is Cornelius.

Cornelius makes beautifully crafted hand-painted picture frames.

This is the front door of Cornelius’ one room home, which also serves as his workshop.

Cornelius inspires me.

Cornelius has a wife and four children. They live in the village near Kisii. He visits them once a month, and brings money for school fees, clothes, and other necessities. He cannot yet afford a place large enough to house all of them, as he cannot yet afford school fees in Nairobi.

Cornelius takes immense pride in his work, and he believes in himself. He told me that “the best is yet to come” – and that he knows if he keeps working hard to produce beautiful and unique picture frames, he will save enough money to bring his family home.

I met Cornelius “randomly” – otherwise known as a “divinely,” or “accidentally on purpose”. Sometimes the universe conspires to bring us what we are looking for, while also bringing someone else good fortune.

One of my missions on this trip was to work with our artists to produce picture frames. While speaking with one of our beaders, I happened to hear of a man named Cornelius who makes frames.

Cornelius’ striking work caught my eye immediately. I introduced myself, and we were engrossed in conversation about his craft, how and when he learned, his family, etc.

A couple days later, we walked from town through Muthurwa Hawkers Market and boarded a minibus to Kayole. Our particular minibus had loudspeakers and a TV screen at the front, and was blaring obscenely loud music videos from local DJs as we jolted over the sprawling landscape. Over an hour later, disheveled and with ringing ears, we disembarked near Kayole Primary school and he led us to his home.

“This is the origin of everything,” he said with a broad and proud smile on his face, stretching his hands out over the small one-room studio that serves as his home and workshop.

With great care and pride, he walked us through every step of the frame-building process. I wish all of you could see the look of satisfaction on his face as dutifully he explained, step by detailed step, the complicated process that goes into one frame’s construction.

Every single part of the frame is made by hand. He buys raw wood and brings it to the masons who cut it into boards. The board is notched and measured and cut at 45 degree angles with a hand-saw to make the frame structure.

It then must be nailed together, sanded, and perfected. At this time it is ready for painting or decoration. Cornelius has a wonderful design sense and puts exquisite detail into his picture frames. He tells me that “no one else in Nairobi can create my designs.”

The back stand for the picture frame is also made from hand-cut wood. After measuring and cutting, he uses a hand-drill to install the hinge. The stand is then covered with glue and black fabric.

I survey Corenelius’ one room workshop and am filled with intense admiration and respect. His bed is in the back, separated by thin curtain. Another curtain forms the doorway. Behind me is one window with no glass. And from this place hundreds of beautiful picture frames are produced with meticulous skill and care.

Cornelius learned to make frames (in the very rudimentary stage) in his secondary school program in Kisii. They had instituted a skills training program in handcrafts to preserve traditional crafts and encourage students to make use of their resources and creativity.

After getting married and having children, he decided to go to Nairobi and perfect his craftsmanship of picture frames so that he could support his family.

“How has business been for you? Have you been able to sell enough frames to make a good living?” I asked.

“Well, I have to say, after the past five years, business has not been fair.”

As a fair trade business owner, these words did not fall on welcome ears. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that there have been several people who have taken my frames on consignment, but have refused to pay after they have been sold . There was also one very large order which I have yet to recover from.”

He went on to tell us of an order for more than 5000 frames. Cornelius hired 18 people to help, and soon they were producing 100 frames a day – a number which again filled me with intense respect given the size and limitations of his workshop. After this order was delivered, he received only a small portion of the payment. The issue eventually went to court, where he learned that the person who had contracted him was bankrupt, and did not have the money to pay him.

After all of this, Cornelius still looks at me with hope-filled eyes and says, “But I am not worried, I am SURE the best is yet to come”

My heart was full as we were headed back to Nairobi. I sent Cornelius a text message saying, “Thank-you for showing us your workshop. You do very good work and I wish you much happiness and success.”

His response made my heart swell even more - “I was also proud of you. The way you accepted to visit that small workshop of mine. May God make our business prosper. ”

I am so excited that we are starting a business relationship with Cornelius that is FAIR, and can hardly wait to bring his products to you!

Fair Earth will be carrying a large selection of his frames – they will be available online and for purchase at the Andersonville Galleria come March. Remember—the best is yet to come!

Thanks for your continued support!

Sincerely,

Holly Elzinga

©2010 Fair Earth | Andersonville Galleria - 5247 N. Clark St. Chicago IL 60640

Friends and supporters of Fair Earth,

First of all, if you would like to receive updates via email, please email me at info@ourfairearth.com and I will add you to the list!

I hope all is well with each of you. In Uganda, we have been very busy working on our new line, focusing extensively on stream-lining our production capacity, increasing quality control, and expanding our product line.

More stories about our producer groups are forthcoming – but meanwhile I wanted to share some of our experiences travelling in this beautiful country.

On our second day in Uganda, we found ourselves catapulted into the waters of the Nile on a whitewater excursion. The experience was breathtaking, wild, and exhilarating. Click here to see photos!

A couple days later, still breathless from the explosive White Nile, we found ourselves gently cruising down the river’s slow-moving current, watching hippos surround our boat and observing hundreds of crocodiles lined up along the shore..

Water Buffalo, Sacred Ibis, and Hippos on the shores of the Nile

Our boat cruse brought us to the frothy basin of Murchison Falls. The next day we hiked up to the top – where the ENTIRE NILE RIVER explodes through a narrow cleft in the rock only 23 feet wide to the frothy pool 140 feet below – absolutely phenomenal to witness!

View of Murchison Falls from above

Nick, Kiran, and our guide at the top of the Falls

Holly at the top of the falls

Enjoy the photos here!

Sincerely,

Holly Elzinga

©2010 Fair Earth | Andersonville Galleria - 5247 N. Clark St. Chicago IL 60640

“You see, I have everything I need” my friend Robinah told me as she held out her hand to survey the small room accommodating a bed, bunk bed, couch, and coffee table where she lives with her children and grandchildren. Her home is accessible through a winding dirt road that goes through the market, over a small plank, and into a courtyard where her room is one of many. She pointed to the bed where her grandson Michael was sleeping. “You see, here is the bedroom. And the dressing room is here,” she said with a laugh as she showed me the 1′ x 4′ crevice between the bed and the wall, above which all of their clothes hung from three hooks.

“And here,” pointing to a shelf right next to the bed housing cups, plates, tea, and rice “is the kitchen. And here,” pointing to the couch and a small end table, “is the sitting room, dining room, office, workshop, and lounge. It can even be a library,” she laughed as she scanned the book lying on the couch.

“The bathroom is outside, but that is good because then we can always be sure to be able to say hi to our neighbors. So you see, I am very blessed.”

Robinah is one of Fair Earth’s paper beaders, and yesterday I spent the day with her and her family at their home in Kampala.

Their residence is small – but overflowing with ABUNDANT creativity. The volume and quality of beautiful products that are produced in this home challenges and amazes me!

Robinah with grandchildren Michael, and Millie

As we were walking up to the entrance of their home, Robinah’s granddaughter Millie came running towards us with exuberant energy. She called “Mama! Mama! Mama!” and threw her arms around me. Millie was our stand-up comedian the rest of the day. She is three years old and absolutely delightful.

Meet Margaret – one of our beaders

The first time I met Margaret, her captivating smile and confident personality captured me. I was later drawn in even more by the quality and creativity of her work, as she intricately bent wires and wove beads to create the lively forms of butterflies, elephants, frogs, lizards, scorpions, giraffes, birds, and many other animals and critters. We started working together last year, when she had only been beading for a year’s time. She learned to make beaded critters from a friend, and with a brave entrepreneurial spirit invested in supplies. Her determination to succeed has rewarded her. She currently employs four other people and has established a dignified business that supports herself and pays the school fees for her two children, Evelyn and Mary.

We visited Margaret’s workshop today, which is located in the front room of her home in Dagoretti where she lives with her two girls. A small table was set up with stools around it, where she and three of her workers sat beading. Two women were stringing beads onto wire with amazing precision and skill, while another wove the beaded wire around a previously constructed wire frame to create the finished masterpiece.

When I asked Margaret what I should tell her customers in America, she said, “Please tell them thank-you for buying my work so that I can send my children to school.”

So, on Margaret’s behalf, THANK-YOU!

Margaret’s work is currently available at our retail location at the Andersonville Galleria – all of the beaded critters and beaded animals you see there are made in her workshop!

Sincerely,

Holly Elzinga
www.ourfairearth.com

RESPECT

Fair Trade Soccer Balls?

“Really? But I thought fair trade was mostly about coffee?”

This is a question I have been asked numerous times over the past several years.

NO, fair trade is NOT only about coffee!

As coffee was among the first fair trade certified products to be introduced to the US consumer market, it remains a highly-recognizable and popular fair trade item. HOWEVER, ANY product can be ethically produced under fair trade standards. The fair trade movement is vast and growing as more people are becoming conscious about the ethics behind the production of their products.

Last week I gave a fair trade soccer ball to Valentino, a delightful boy who I support in Uganda through the FOCUS Mulago Child Project. FOCUS works with children in the Mulago and Katanga slum communities of Kampala by helping with school feels and supplementing their formal educational with training in social and emotional development, skills and vocational training, and entrepreneurial skills.

As Valentino held his fair trade soccer ball with a gleaming smile on his face, I couldn’t help but focus on the word “RESPECT” printed in large letters on the front of the ball.

Respect for each other, respect for Uganda, respect for the workers in Pakistan who made Valentino’s soccer ball. I told him that this was a very good soccer ball because it was fair trade – which means that the people who worked to make his ball were paid a good and fair wage, so they were also very happy.

Coming from a slum community in Kampala, Valentino knew exactly what I was talking about. Daily he sees people working back-breaking hours only to bring home a few shillings which hardly put dinner on the table. He also sees the vast disparity between the rich and the poor in Kampala, and the exploitation that has developed between business owners in their comfortable offices and the manual laborers who struggle to keep their children fed. He also sees his mother trek daily to the market to buy her supply of sugar cane, tomatoes, and charcoal, and he helps her set up shop near their one-room home where they sell their goods for a small mark-up to neighbors. He has seen his mother out of desperation at the end of the day sell her goods for a lower price than what she paid for them, so that she has at least a few shillings to feed her children. He knows all-too-well the price of sweat, the cost of work, the hunger after failing to find enough customers, the reward of job well done, and also the satisfaction of dinner on the table after a profitable day’s work.

I watched Valentino’s already-wide smile grow even bigger as he realized his soccer ball was also making another family happy. He had received a gift that he will enjoy, and they were enjoying the satisfaction of a good business day, and the profits of a job well done.

In one brief moment, there was a direct connection between Valentino, a young boy in Kampala, and the people who made his soccer ball in Pakistan.

This is one of the things that fair trade does for consumers – it puts us in direct contact with the PEOPLE who make the products we enjoy. It reconnects us with the human side of our food, our clothes, our jewelry, our sports equipment. It makes us consider the work and skills that went into the product’s production, it brings us to a new level of appreciation for craftsmanship and talent, and it plants a seed of RESPECT inside of us – a seed that continues to grow as we continue to become more connected to the people behind our products.

As you go through your day today, I challenge you to be conscious about the producers behind the things you consume, touch, wear, and enjoy. Who picked the coffee beans that were brewed into your morning cup? Who designed and sewed the clothes and accessories you choose to wear? Who made the computer at your desk, what trees did the paper you use come from, who processed the raw material into paper?

Whose life are you respecting (or disrespecting) by the choices you make today?

I add “disrespect” because in all honestly, as many of us know, a large number of products on the market DO indeed come from a production line that disrespects their workers. Walking through a supermarket or department store, customers are often quite disconnected from the people behind the products they are browsing. We remain ignorant about whether they were made with child and sweatshop labor, unfair wages, and worker exploitation or by people paid fair wages and treated with RESPECT. We make the decision to support the wrong group because we are uninformed.

But in a society of knowledge, awareness, information, and global connections, we no longer can afford to make ill-informed decisions.

In a world where we have the CHOICE to purchase either from retail lines whose producers are unknown or exploitative, or to purchase from lines that put us in direct contact with producers and their stories – why would we WANT to remain ill-informed?

Fair Trade products are increasingly becoming available. If you are Chicago-based, see Chicago Fair Trade for a listing of Chicago-based fair trade businesses. If fair trade products aren’t as available as you’d like, there’s a lot you can do to change that! A suggestion or a petition can go a long way. Contact your alderman, speak to the buyers for your local coffee shop, make a suggestion to your grocery mart, bring fair trade products to your workplace. See Chicago Fair Trade’s website for more resources about how to increase the availability of fair trade products.

Your choices and your actions make a difference. In this new year, be mindful. Be CONSCIOUS. Make a difference that you can proudly stand behind.

Dear Friends and supporters of Fair Earth,

Over the next two months, I will be posting updates with stories, photos, and information about the artisans we work with as we develop and produce our new product line for 2010.

Hope you all had a wonderful holiday season.

Thanks for your involvement and support for Fair Earth!

Below are some excerpts from accounts of my first couple weeks here. ENJOY!

Sincerely,

Holly Elzinga

______________________

I was catapulted full speed this year from the craziness of holiday retail into a journey to Uganda. Despite what seemed like endless hours of research, design, consulting, and preparation, I still felt horribly dissociated when I climbed into a cab from my apartment in Chicago with Nicholas and Kiran, icy-fingered and luggage-laden, and asked him to take me to O’Hare.

Shifting worlds at this speed—and being thrown so quickly from one tempo to another – is still not a skill I have accommodated myself to.

The dissociation continued through London, where our layover gave us enough time to take the tube to Picadilly station and do a tourist blitz walk/run through the city. We then stopped over in Dubai for a couple hours, pushed our way through endless duty-free shops and what seemed to me to be an exorbitant number of travelers for Christmas Day, and boarded the plane for the final leg in the journey. After a brief stop-over in Addis Ababa, we made our descent over Lake Victoria into Entebbe.

Every time I stop off the plane in Uganda I am overcome with two things: first, the LIGHT. This past year I read Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski, and he also spoke about this –“More than anything, one is struck by the light.  Light everywhere.  Brightness everywhere.  Everywhere, the sun…”

He also wrote about another overwhelming feeling I get when I travel by airplane – the violent way it shifts me from one world to another.

“In times past, when people wandered the world on foot, rode on horseback, or sailed in ships, the journey itself accustomed them to the change.  Images of the earth passed ever so slowly before their eyes, the stage revolved in a barely perceptible way.  The voyage lasted weeks, months.  The traveler had time to grow used to another environment, a different landscape.  The climate, too, changed gradually.  Before the traveler arrived from a cool Europe to the burning Equator, he had already left behind the pleasant warmth of Las Palmas, the head of Al-Mahara, and the hell of the Cape Verde Islands.

“Today, nothing remains of these gradations. Air travel tears us violently out of snow and cold and hurls us that very same day in the blaze of the tropics.  Suddenly, still rubbing our eyes, we find ourselves in a humid inferno.  We immediately start to sweat.  If we’ve come from Europe in the wintertime, we discard overcoats, peel off sweaters.  It’s the first gesture of initiation we, the people of the North, perform upon arrival in Africa.

So, upon shedding my sweater and peeling off my layers of winter clothing, I opened my arms, breathed deeply, and stepped off the plane into the next two months of living in this world.

Driving from Entebbe to Kampala and then on to Mutungu where my Ugandan family lives, my senses are intoxicated and I relive years spent in Africa within a couple hours. Already my skin is dusted with red earth, my eyes jolt from the jerking traffic on Kampala Road to the luscious banana trees bursting with fresh fruit, the sun beats down on my face and every cell in my body is fiery warm, I smell matoke cooking and car exhaust and fuel fumes and freshly-cut wood and pineapple pulp and paraffin and roasting maize. I hear cars honking, boda-boda drivers screeching as they swerve their way in and out of traffic, street hawkers selling their wares, wind rushing past my ears, the familiar and intoxicating role of the Luganda language, the dance of Ugandan music, drumbeats escalating and fading, and then the sound of my own heart beating faster and faster as all of this again becomes a part of the way I move and think and breathe.

Again, merely for your enjoyment.

I have much to write about and share with you, but as my time in Uganda is drawing to an end I am scrambling to finish things and spending as much time as possible with my family and friends here.

So for now, these photos will have to be worth the thousands of words I don’t have time to write.

Hope you all are well!

Holly Elzinga

….. merely for your enjoyment. 

February 7, 2009

Everyday to go home I board a matatu from town to Bugolobi Luzira. On good days, I catch the taxi when it is almost full, get a seat somewhere near the front, and manage to avoid the jam. On other days, I’m one of the first people to board and I shimmy my way into the back seat. We lurch around looking for 11+ other people traveling in the same direction, only to be stuck for what may be hours in the traffic jam in Kampala.

Thankfully today was a good day.

So … Everyday I take this matatu past Bugolobi and Kittintale until I reach the SP gas station on the left. I say “maso awo” to the conductor, meaning “stop just a bit ahead,” and I give him 1000 shillings (about sixty American cents). Then I walk a mile or so up Luzira hill, past Radio Maria, past the summit where you can see the great waters of Lake Victoria, until I reach the junction before Biina. There I turn left down the muddy dirt road, greet the children and Sarah, and continue until I reach the house with a black-gated fence. At that point I turn left again and walk up the steep hill past three gates until I reach my home.

So now I’ve just told all of you how exactly to find me in Uganda.
(just in case you’d like to visit).

Today, walking up Luzira hill, I was particularly tired. I’d been walking since about 8:00 in the morning, weaving my way in and out of traffic and bodies and shielding my eyes from the scorching sun.

I had first gone to visit TASO Uganda and the Mulago Positive Woman’s Network (MPWN), two amazing organizations working with HIV+ men, women, and children in Uganda. The MPWN is an income-generating empowerment program for HIV+ women, and Fair Earth is in the process of developing a relationship with them so we can bring you their products.

After visiting with them, I went to FOCUS (the organization I worked at in 2004) to discuss some new jewelry designs and networking opportunities. I was then on a mission to find a man called “Silver,” who I was told made leather sandals. I was given general directions, and after asking several people and walking for what felt like miles, I found Silver in the outskirts of town. His small but productive workshop was surrounded by the swarming busyness of the veteran’s market. He introduced me to his work and we discussed new design possibilities and business development, including a future partnership with Fair Earth.

The afternoon stretched into long hours so that at the beginning of my mile-long hike up Luzira hill, I was already feeling tired. When I reached the summit where the expanses of lake Victoria are visible, I paused for a moment to take in the scenery. Dusk was falling, and in the hills surrounding the lake, whips of smoke rose into the air as families prepared their dinner. Thinking about food cooking, my stomach began to growl; I turned my gaze and quickened my pace towards home.

My cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Yes Holly, this is Janet.”
Janet is my Ugandan mom.
“Janet! I’m about to reach home… I’m walking up the hill.”
“Ok… its getting late, and we’re wondering why there’s no sign of dinner. We’re getting hungry.”

My stomach was also growling. We realized, to everyone’s dismay, that we had mis-communicated the days I was scheduled to cook an “American” dinner, meaning it will take at least three hours from now to prepare food. Our stomachs will have to wait.

My gait relaxes and I take in the scenery. A boy carrying firewood. Women organizing their kiosks. Matoke cooking. Children playing football, or helping their moms cook, or cleaning the compound. It is very difficult not to notice the children. Everyday, without fail, they run after me as I walk home calling the same greeting:

“Bye Mzungu! Bye – yeeee! MZUNGU! BYE-YEEEEE!!!”

They scream louder and run closer until I stop and purposefully say goodbye to each of them. Sometimes I find this daily ritual to be quite humorous.

There was one day in particular when I literally went weak in the knees from laughter while walking from home into Luzira town to find a pharmacy. Some men were sitting around on their porch drinking marula, a local brew made from millet flour. One of them pointed at me and shouted, “Mzungu!” Suddenly I became the center of attention for everyone around. The man that caused me to completely loose my composure and break down into laughter was an older gentleman, or mzee, of at least 75 years. I imagine there are many times when his eyes are filled with wisdom and insight, but at this particular moment they were glazed over with merriment. He stood up, leaning on his bamboo straw which dipped into the marula gourd, and yelled in a bellowing voice, “MZUNGU! HOW ARE YOU! MZUNGU! HOW ARE YOU! MZUNGU! HOW ARE YOU! HOW ARE YOU!”

At first I responded, saying “I’m fine, thank-you, how are you?” But I was quick to realize that he was not asking me to find a response. He was merely thoroughly enjoying the rarely-seen spectacle of a white woman trying to make her way through the market to town.

As I continued walking and his bellowing greetings faded into the distance, I felt like one of those circus clowns with a painted-on grin and battery-powered hand that waves at people. Push me here and I’ll smile. Pull this string and I’ll wave. Press this button and I’ll jump.

Let me tell you, being a part of a human circus is never a good feeling, no matter what side of the fence you are on.

I should mention, however, that I am highlighting this situation because it is very rare. For the most part, encountering disconnect and spectacle from the people here is almost unheard of for me. Any of you who’ve listened to me speak of Uganda know that this place is my second home, and the connection I experience with this land and the people here goes far deeper than I can understand.

Even the “circus” feeling I get sometimes while walking home can be overcome very simply when I shake a child’s hand a say in Luganda, “My name is not Mzungu; my name is Holly.” This without fail makes them giggle and respond to me incredulously in Luganda, amazed that I know their language. In those few words a HUGE barrier comes crashing down, and we make a human connection.

In fact, it is this connection that has time and again filled me with awe, and has been a driving force behind the establishment of Fair Earth. I have been welcomed with open arms as a foreigner into a community that is not my own; I have been adopted into a family here; and I have built a trusting business partnership with numerous artisans. Working together, we have developed a social enterprise that is self-sustaining for all of us, relying on mutual trust and comradery as our deposits and safe-holds.

Our experiences connect and unify us. We find joy in our points of commonality and inspiration in our uniqueness.

There is much more I could write about this, but my stomach is growling and before dinner Joshua wants me to help him make a poster about “Communication in Business” for a presentation he has at school tomorrow. So I’m off to do homework!

Hope you all are well,

Sincerely,

Holly Elzinga