Sylvia's Journal

Josephine’s little girl is sick. We sent her home to be with her. She is admitted to the hospital. The health of our children is precious and we don’t realize it until they fall ill. We worry when the doctor cannot tell us what is wrong and the medicines don’t work. But Josephine is among the lucky ones: she has access to doctors, medicine and a hospital. Our work here is for people for whom this is out of reach, a luxury they cannot afford or access. As a consequence their babies die of preventable or treatable illnesses. It is a frightening thought to imagine such a tragedy. Josephine’s worry grounds me as it reminds me of why I am here. I once had a large button made for participants in a workshop here in Kenya, many years ago. Against a background of the colors of the Kenyan flag it says in big white letters “Why Am I Here?” Sita had put that same button on the lamp next to my bed when I first came back from the hospital on July 21. William wore that button on the opening day of this workshop. It is not a bad thing to ask oneself that question periodically

We completed day two of the workshop and tried to get the participants as much grounded in the philosophy, methodology, concepts and tools of the leadership program as is possible in a short time. With life interfering, as it did with Josephine, or other commitments that pull people in and out, our facilitation team is never complete. I am blessed with a team of colleagues that is so flexible that they can handle this reality without batting an eye. I made a point of sitting down more often and putting my legs up while William and Ida ran sessions.

After the workshop was over we drank our tea hastily and went downtown. That sounds easier than it is. We inched our way to the Hilton Hotel which took a good 45 minutes. I caught the nurses in their last hour of work. They were from all over Eastern and Southern Africa as well as the Commonwealth Secretariat from London which sponsored the event. We had a wonderful conversation about what makes midwives and nurses in general effective or ineffective in their work. They had already put subjects in their curriculum that I believe are critical but usually missing such as self awareness, group and power dynamics. The examples I knew about why they need these topics resonated with everyone.

Afterwards Ida picked me up and we had an Indian dinner. Back home a few more exercises, my footbath and email checking routine and then to bed. And now, while I am writing I am multi-tasking again, Skyping with Axel and Tessa at the same time as they are winding down their day and I am ramping up mine. I am already in their tomorrow.

Yesterday things started to speed up. If I had not gotten that idea myself my dreams last night would have informed me. They were of the multi-tasking and sensory overload type such as trying to answer a phone when a noisy speaker truck drives by (the type they use here n Nairobi to broadcast election messages). But there were also babies being born, old movie reruns with extras I knew and a doctor’s check-up. For now I will let these swirl around in my mind while I figure out which marching orders my subconscious has hidden in these dream for me for today. I suspect there is something in them about letting go and letting something be born while taking care of myself. The latter will be a challenge as today I will do double duty: after the workshop I will jump in a taxi and head down-town for a work session with East African nurses who are re-writing the nursing curriculum in the Hilton Hotel. That’s how these things work here. They asked me to talk with them about adding something better in it about management and leadership than what they currently have: theories from dead white men from the US.

Yesterday I had set my alarm very early so I could do my exercises, write in my journal, have breakfast and be on time for Josephine and John to pick me up around 7 AM. When we got to the venue at the Kenya Institute of Administration (KIA) Ida and William were already there, preparing. There was still much to be done, and there were the usual ‘start-of-workshop’ glitches. But we pulled together nicely as a team and the day unfolded much as we had expected, except for the fact that we were missing some the KIA faculty (even though we are at their place) and we were all very cold. In Kenya there are also climate surprises; global warming has made the usual weather pattern unusual.

It was a long day and even longer as there was homework for all of us and for me more exercises, footbaths and all that. Being up and on my feet most of the day took its toll: my foot was swollen and stiff, my neck and shoulders sore. The icepack was waiting in my mini fridge and did the job while I soaked my foot and answered my email; I can do all these things at the same time.

I woke up from a dream in which I was presented with two choices: do something entrepreneurial and creative, or unload a car and add more stuff to a place that was already very full. Axel was encouraging me to go with the creative choice but I got busy loading more stuff into the room which required organizing what was already in there. I am not sure what this is all about other than getting mentally ready for the workshop that begins in a couple of hours.

Sunday was very quiet as I had intended it to be. I did go to Quaker meeting. This meeting is different than ours in that there are books on the table, several Bibles, Faith and Practice and other holy books and one can do contemplative reading during the meeting for worship. One of the members read a passage from Mark. It is the story of Jesus driving out the evil spirit from a, presumably, epilectic boy. The father of the boy had asked Jesus “if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” To which Jesus replied, “If you can? Everything is possible for him who believes.” The story is about the transformational power of believing in something. This is very much the core of our leadership program, here and elsewhere. The transformation occurs when someone believes in something enough to propel him or herself into action; when others see that, some will follow and become believers as well, attracting others. If you have enough of those who believe, things begin to change. This is how social change happens.

The theme reminded me of an interview I once read by Edmond Desmond in 1989 with Mother Teresa in which she said “I am like a little pencil in his [God’s] hand. That is all. He does the thinking. He does the writing. The pencil has nothing to do with it. The pencil has only to be allowed to be used.” And then I thought about the three of us in the plane wreck, three broken pencils, unable to write. And now, nearly four months later, here I am in Nairobi, with a newly sharpened point. I may not be quite like a brandnew pencil, but I am very ready to write again. And the work, not surprising, is about transformation.

Whatever I had done on Friday, the effects continued the next day. I was so full of confidence about my progress but yesterday was discouraging. It was good that Eunice came for my massage at 8 AM. Even so, I had a hard time walking to the breakfast restaurant, which requires descending stairs and then walking over uneven pavement. I had wanted to go downtown and walk around a bit or to the museum, not wanting to stay in my room all day. Walking around did not seem a good idea anymore. I ended up going to the national archives, on Joseph’s and Kristen’s suggestion. It was small enough that I could manage a little less than one hour on my feet. It was hard as it was without any places to sit.

The Kenya National Archives are located in an old building that used to be the Bank of India in the very old days. It is a temple like building and must have looked quite imposing in the center of old Nairobi before it got overshadowed by much taller buildings. But now, with a new paint job, it looked quite charming in the middle of the pollution and chaos of downtown. The ground floor is filled with many artifacts from various Kenyan tribes, sometimes in unlit cases so you can’t really see what’s inside but beautiful craft work nevertheless. Then there are small displays of artifacts from neighboring and other African countries. Upstairs was a rather dusty exhibit of large photographs of many people, white and black, who are presented as heroes but who were in real life villains, crooks and criminals, who enriched themselves beyond belief at the expense of the country. Some were also responsible for unthinkable brutality. I found it hard to look at these glorified pictures. They are collectively responsible for most if not all the current messes.

I was dying to look into some of the old and worn file folders that were on display in glass cases containing official government correspondence on various topics. According to a sticker on them, these folders were open to the public for viewing as they were more than 50 years old. But you could not just lift up the cover and look inside them. I required probably something more than I was prepared to engage in.

The rest of the day I did stay in my room. I took a nap, did some reading and prepared for the workshop. I had a wonderful video skype chat with Tessa and Steve. The webcam allows me to have a full screen window into their room. I could see them play with the new puppy. With this new technology you have to get dressed and be somewhat decent before you sit down at the computer. No more skyping without any clothes on!

For a short while I could do an amazing trick yesterday during the day: standing on my bad foot only, I was able to push up on my toes and lift my heel about half an inch from the ground. It was a little easier with shoes on; then I could lift my heel even higher. I was so excited that I could do this finally. But then, in the evening, no doubt because of my physical therapy and the long walk, I reverted back to my earlier stiffness. And the few times during the night I got up to go to the bathroom my foot was so stiff that I could hardly walk. Now, in the morning I wonder how I managed my trick from yesterday. It seems impossible again.

This morning I woke up from many dreams. One includes Joan, doing well but with a greatly disfigured arm. In another dream I had lost my place in the middle of a powerpoint presentation which included a reading from a book. I even had forgotten the title of my presentation and the place in the book where I was supposed to read from. I had hoped that Axel would help me out but he didn’t. He was busy with something else. The people in the audience either did not seem to notice or were infinitely patient with me, until some weird screensaver kicked in. Then Axel started to search frantically with me. I am glad I woke up. There were many more dreams or parts of one long dream; chaotic, bizarre with me always looking for Axel who was busy or having a great time. I was the one who wanted to leave.

Friday was a half day at the office. Josephine and I worked hard on getting all the materials together and finishing the writing and copying of session handouts and teaching notes. We had a brief meeting with Mokaya from the Kenya Institute of Administration who will be part of our team. He is also teaching full time so it is hard to get a hold of him. We were able to meet with him briefly before the start of his class. He asked about Axel who he has never met. Because they are following our recovery on Caringbridge, many people feel they know Axel and follow his recovery like they are following mine. I get such a kick out of this.

When the lights in the office were being turned off and people started to leave I got nervous. During previous visits I was completely independent. I would walk to and from my hotel, an easy walk if you are sure-footed. Now I cannot do this so easily, especially with all the stuff I carry along. I felt a bit helpless as people are starting to leave and I had not been able to get a taxi. This is the part of my current condition that creates much anxiety; little things like this that I never even thought about before. The world is an entirely different place if you can’t walk that well. When Josephine finally left an hour later she noticed I was still there. Her husband, waiting for her in the car downstairs, gave me a lift to the hotel.

I had another physical therapy session with Karen and although it was once again pretty intense, I felt great afterward. Either foolishly or bravely I walked, far too long (explaining my current stiffness and soreness no doubt) over nonexisting or very uneven sidewalks to a nearby shopping center. It was very hard work. I walked partially because it would be faster than the traffic but also because I had wanted to check out Dr. Li’s Chinese Herbal Remedies and Acupuncture clinic. I was curious about acupuncture by a real Chinese doctor. He had successfully cured Karen’s son-in-law from allergies. Unfortunately the clinic is closed on weekends, so no acupuncture this time.

At the Uchumi supermarket, amidst thousands of Indian shoppers preparing for their Dawali festival tonight, I stocked up on such survival items as chocolate and chips for late night snacks next week. Gone are all my good intentions from the early recovery period when I avoided anything that was unwholesome and that would surely distract my body from healing. I am still avoiding the alcohol on behalf of the nerves, however.

Ida and I had a wonderful dinner in a garden restaurant and were finally able to catch up on our lives. When we meet in a work setting we never get around to that. Later Sita Skyped me and we watched each other on videos through our webcams. I showed her my hotel room and droopy flowers and I could see her cats and even the weather outside. We made faces at each other. She is off to Delhi in a couple of weeks for another interesting assignment.

There were loud bangs throughout the evening and the night. These were fireworks from Dawali revelers, not gunshots. They sound the same as I remember from Lebanon.

Lots of wild dreams this night. They are spinning around in my head and as I grasp the tail of each dream it vanishes. Much was about trickery and dishonesty, people hiding things that cannot see the daylight. I think they were triggered by the book I am reading, The State of Africa by Martin Meredith. Annette brought me this book when she visited us in October. It is a great read; A history of late colonial and early independent Africa. There was lots of trickery and dishonesty, on all sides, in addition to enormous brutality and total disrespect of human rights. Unfortunately, there is still much of that goig on. The roots of these weeds are persistent and very deep. During elections time you hear of course more about this than during quiet times. During day time I get more of this via the newspapers.

Yesterday’s sleepless night caught up with me after lunch. I left the office to take a nap. During the morning Josephine and I tied up many loose ends for next week’s workshop and squeezed in a trip to make a courtesy call to a senior ministry of health official, our only chance to see her as she was on her way out to Mombasa for all of next week. She is an important stakeholder. All in all in took nearly two hours sitting in traffic for this visit that lasted barely 10 minutes. Traffic has a domino effect on appointments, with each one being delayed but somehow never cancelled. Boston traffic is a cinch in comparison.

In the early evening I was on a conference call with three of us on cell phones form East Africa (Kenya and Tanzania) and another four sitting in a conference room in Cambridge. It was quite an accomplishment that we got our work done this manner. Joseph was actually on his way to the airport while talking on his cellphone with us. Amazing!

I think the entire week of work, my first in nearly 4 months, is catching up with me as well. I find myself walking more and more slowly and acting less and less like my energetic self. I clearly need plenty of breaks. It is good that the weekend is upon us soon. It will be a very quiet weekend, starting with a massage by Eunice early Saturday morning and probably another quiet Quaker meeting on Sunday. Those are the only plans so far. If energy can be saved up and accumulated for next week, this is when I’ll have to do it. Next week will be intense. The workshop starts on Monday and lasts throughout the week with a team that still has not gotten together (and will not, before Monday).

After having been more or less pain free for a few days I was fairly crippled again yesterday. It was humid and overcast and I find myself always in more pain on such days. Luckily I had only one meeting in the morning. I met up with my co-facilitator William. We sketched out the design for our training of trainers (TOT) workshop next week and William told me about the progress of the teams that we started training in May. It was wonderful to hear about some of the transformations he’d seen and heard about as he traveled to some far flung areas to coach the teams in between workshops.

He, and others who’d been involved in the coaching, told me there are now a few more confident people working in a few more hospitals in Kenya. William had plenty of examples of how that confidence manifests itself at work. These stories are immensely satisfying to hear and make up for all the hard work that went into the design and execution of the program. Of course some teams did not do so well. We talk a lot about team leadership, but when it is missing it is usually because no one is willing to step up to the plate. No matter what we call it, leadership always starts with indviduals who are willing to take some risks.

After William left my shoulders and foot were so painful that I decided to go back to the hotel and take a hot bath. This helped. I also tried to nap but just as I was about to fall asleep Housekeeping knocked on the door, or my cellphone rang, so I gave up.

I left early for my physical therapy session, not wanting to show up late for my appointment, the last one of the day, due to traffic. I arrived just in time. It was an experience that was much different from what I am used to in Manchester. The physical therapist, Karen, is from Danmark, born in Malaysia, studied in the UK, has a home in France and settled down in Kenya for the last 30 or so years. I brought the notes from Julia, my physical therapist in the US, as a reference. Karen glanced at them and then got right to work. While my shoulders and neck were being limbered up with heat pads she worked on my foot the way I imagine Betty works on Axel’s arm: no nonsense and none of that wishy-washy gentle stuff. It was very hard work and quite painful at times, which satisfied my inner Calvinist (pain and suffering is good). After about half an hour she switched to my neck and shoulders. She does not have any of that insurance business here about not being able to treat two different body parts on the same day. Patients pay cash for an hour’s worth of physical therapy: about 45 dollars. Despite the pain and hard work I felt good enough at the end that I made two more appointments with her.

Next to the physical therapy practice is the restaurant where I had lunch earlier. I had an early sandwich dinner and then went home to finish some work and take care of business with MSH Cambridge where my colleagues were still in the early hours of their workday. And then I could not fall asleep for hours. It felt as if something hard and painful was brewing deep down and I prepared for a night full of revealing dreams. Instead I tossed and turned until the early morning hours and woke up without any memory of dreams. A bit disappointing.

I already know that my un- or subconscious is very active but I remain amazed how and why it picks up certain images or words during the day and spins them into magnificent movie scenes. One of my colleagues mentioned a party yesterday where the disc jockey, our very own Christian from MSH, played the YMCA song. She spoke about a thousand other things yesterday but my unconscious grasped this piece and spun it into a dream. I dreamed that I was at the YMCA and wanted to show Sita the cheerleaders that were marching through the streets. In the dream Sita was Dutch and had never seen or heard about cheerleaders. In order to get to Sita who was working up in the rafters (It must be all these invitations to world or regional economic forums) I had to climb up there myself. Someone helped me but it was either very courageous or stupid on my part as it was a bit above my ability and quite risky.

Yesterday I continued easing into work. I got a taste of early morning traffic in Nairobi but arrived in time for an eight o’clock meeting at our MSH office with first Abebe from Ethiopia and then Peter from Kenya. They are wonderful men with whom I had co-facilitated workshops in the past. It was nice see see them after all this time.

We then headed off for the US embassy to have lunch in the embassy cafetaria with USAID staff from the population and health office. This was the new embassy, on the outskirts of Nairobi (the old one was blown up some years ago). The security was intense. I had to give up my bags of green tea, two candies, lipbalm and much more. It was fun to see the security guards unpack my colleague’s bag. You learn a lot from people by seeing what they carry with them. It feels rather invasive this probing of something as intimate as one’s handbag. It was as if we were undressed in public. (We got everything back at the exit). The cafetaria was dominated by a huge (HUGE) screen with a football game going on, we were on American soil after all. I picked the seat with my back to the screen and watched in admiration how our USAID colleague eat her sticky and gooey spare ribs without getting anything on her white blouse. I admired her greatly. I would have been a mess. We discussed leadership and management in Kenya, of course, and got to know each other a bit better.

After lunch Ida took us around the outskirts of Nairobi in order to avoid as much as we could of the infamous and congested Thika road. Kristen and Joseph guided her expertly (with the help of maps) from the backseat through narrow roads that always seemed to have Garden in their name. Garden is a nicer way of saying rural I suppose. It was not a shortcut but more pleasant than sitting in traffic.

We arrived at the Safari Park hotel to see a group of nurses about some programs we are exploring and others we are launching. They were having a workshop there. In Nairobi everyone is always having workshops at one hotel or another. We arrived hours early because we did not want to be caught in the rush hour traffic leaving Nairobi on Thika road. As a result we had a very long wait (several hours actually) of sitting in a disgustingly beautiful garden drinking first tea, then sundowners. I tried the local pretend beer (Malta) which tasted rather malty and syrupy, more medecine, and a downer rather than a sundowner and really too sweet to even pretend. If Axel had been with us he would have, no doubt, be less disciplined and told his nerves to go to hell and partaken in the Kenyan sundowner ritual.

When the nurses emerged from their workshop it was nearly dark and we chatted by candlelight. One nurse had been in a virtual leadership program I led some years ago and it was nice to meet her in the flesh. It felt as if we were old acquaintances. I suppose we were.

Ida dropped us off at a Thai restaurant which has been in Nairobi for ever and, as always, was mostly empty. I have learned from Sita to suspect that it is a shell. But the food was good. Despite the slow rhythm of the day I was pretty pooped when I got home. I managed to squeeze the last energy out to review one document and participate briefly in a virtual conference that started yesterday about family planning in Francophone Africa. I marveled again at how easy it is to feel connected to a larger group of people who share a common vision through one’s computer, sitting alone in a hotel room. I am sorry I missed Axel’s Skype call. The eight hours difference is a bit much late in the day.

I did not think it was possible to dream about physical therapy. If I thought I could do without it for the next two weeks, I got a message to the contrary. In two-hour long stretches of sleep, punctuated by waking up, I dreamed up all sorts of schemes to fit physical therapy sessions into my work schedule. I cannot remember the details; it seemed all very complicated. So when I woke up I was surprised not to have to run off to an appointment. I guess I better make an appointment today.

I am learning about self care. Mary Wright is like my personal coach. She sends me frequent messages cheering on all my attempts at taking good care of myself. I am listening and so is my subconscious. One of my earlier dreams in the night was of a large horse trailer parked on the deck of an oceanliner. It was the horse that reminded me that the hay needed changing, and the water and food bins filled. I did that, which may explain the physical therapy dreams that followed.

So yesterday was my first day of work. I had only two meetings and everything took place at a slow pace, including my walking. I have finally slowed down to the natural pace at which most of Africa walks. It would be New York where I’d get into trouble, but here I fit in quite nicely.

After our morning meeting we went for lunch in a small sandwhich/deli type restaurant located right next to, indeed, a physical therapy practice. So I have the card and can call the number today.

I was rather exhausted and went to bed early after I had a long Skype chat with my colleague Sarah who is in neighboring Tanzania and later with Axel from home. I had brought my little notebook web cam in the hope that Axel and I could see each other but there is a Macintosh incompatibility and he could only see my Skype image. I also had wanted to show him my room. It is quite nice. I bought a bouquet of flowers yesterday (the markets overflow with flowers) which I put in a portable plastic vase that someone gave me a couple of years ago (was it you, Carol?). I am glad I stuck it into my suitcase at the last minute.

I just got a call that I will be picked up in a short while so this entry will be short. Yesterday was a restful Sunday. Ida and I did manage to go to Quaker meeting, a small and quiet affair with a cacophony of noises going on outside from the road and other worshippers. After lunch, just when I felt really sore, Eunice the massage therapist came with her folding massage table and gave me the most wonderful massage in my room. I took a bath and a long nap afterwards.

At the end of the afternoon I had asked Elias to come for tea. He is the kid who had found my name in the East African Aero Club guestbook and with whom I had corresponded for a few months. We had tea and talked about flying, dreams and not giving up. I liked him a lot. He is the same age as Sita and has led all but a charmed life. Somehow he got the idea of flying and although he has made some headway (he passed his ground school, which has already expired) he has a long way to go to pursue his dream of becoming a pilot with the Africa Inland Church. All I can do at this point is cheer him on, which I did. He calls me mum. We took a picture and then he left.

Ida picked me up in the evening and we joined my other colleagues Joseph and Kristen who are here for the week for dinner in a lovely restaurant. Despite the espresso I had I fell asleep quickly, slept well until a lone mosquito woke me up. After a couple of hours of being wide awake I managed to sleep through my alarm. The week has started. Off to work I go.