Sylvia's Journal

Today is Sita’s twenty-seventh birthday (and also Morsi’s) and I am about 45 miles away from her. We have a family tradition that I cannot partake in and I am counting on Axel to do the honors: the chair of the birthday girl will be decorated with flowers. I suspect it will be covered with violet asters, yellow and orange calendula, pink and dark red snap dragons, a lonely white phlox, the daisy-like feverfew and red and orange nasturtiums. At this late time in the season there is still so much in bloom in our garden. And as for the edibles, since the frost has not yet come, we are still harvesting green beans, tomatoes, tomatilloes, Swiss chard and New Zealand spinach. These would look nice on the chair as well, I think.

In my thoughts I am up in the wet garden with my shears; and then inside, armed with the scotch tape, trying to attach the reluctant wet flowers to the wooden spindles of the chair. This part of the tradition came from my childhood. The other part developed somewhere along the way when the girls were still little: a collection of little animal tchochkes are collected from everywhere in the house and arranged around the breakfast plate, all looking in the direction of the birthday girl and sitting on and around the presents laid out on the table.

I am sad to miss this because next year I am sure she will be in her own house or apartment some ways off. On the other hand, given the time she usually gets up, the flowers might all be dead by the time she shows up, having lost their stamina, blooming inside scotchtape since 6 AM.

The imagination is a wonderful thing, and just writing this and seeing the scene in my mind makes me feel good and part of the event this morning. This is how we can be in many places at once.

Yesterday was wonderful and exhausting (again). We met from 8:30 till 6:00 with a few short breaks. We slugged through a long agenda; some very exciting, some tedious. At times I tuned out when the talk was about things that relate too much to the US world of academic management education. But most is very relevant to what we do out in the developing world. I wish I could get some of our partners that are academic institutions in Kenya and Tanzania hooked into this network of wonderful people and terrific resources. I have tried but not been very successful. I have new energy that is partially fueled by my roommate Maria who is from New Zealand and whose life is dedicated to re-balance the way native people are considered in the decision making processes of the dominant populations.

I have moved a good length out of my cocoon yesterday and will be out there for another full day. It has been easy because everyone is so very caring, careful, concerned and solicitous. I did OK, even though we were all sitting on a non-ergonomically designed chairs. I held a heat pack to my shoulder, sometimes wound it around my foot and alternated the heat now and then with an icepack that I will probably forget tonight and leave in the freezer of the kitchenette adjacent to our meeting room. At one point I squeezed myself down on the floor between occupied and unoccupied chairs with a rolled-up blanket under my spine, as directed by our masseuse/yoga teacher Abi. It was very effective. I should do this more often.

At the end of our day of deliberations we walked back to our sleeping quarters; I chose to join the walkers rather than being driven; but now I walk slowly, at the end of the pack instead of in my usual forerunner position. Maria hobbles a bit too. She also broke her foot some time ago. Later, we drove to a wonderful restaurant in Natick (Naked Fish) for a delicious dinner and great conversation that covered the entire range of human experience. I had myself driven in my own car. It is nice when there are drivers around. Like two old ladies, Maria and I have swollen feet by the time we get back to our rooms.