Sylvia's Journal

Through my journal I have already received two threads that have or will connect me to people in Ghana. This is probably the best part of this community that has knitted itself around us and that has stuck with us, more invisible now, on the receiving end of these journal entries.

I, in turn, am tugging at the threads that connects me to people in Kenya in the hope that these pulls will do any good. I know others who read this are also connected to people in Kenya. The church burning tragedy echoes what happened 14 years ago in Rwanda. I liked to think that Kenya had passed that stage of unbridled mob violence, ethnic or not. I wish I could will those in power to stand up and use their power to unite rather than to divide. But instead I see a self-righteousness that reminds me of little boys in a sand box; unfortunately the stakes are so much higher than a bucket full of sand or an obstructed dump truck.

This is the first time I am writing my journal entry late at night. Actually, it could also be an entry written very (very) early in the morning, having missed an entry for January 3, the second day I have missed since July 21. This may be a sign of things to come. I barely had time to come up for air, on this first work day of the New Year. Now, with my exercise regime in the morning, I need one and a half hours to get ready to leave the house at 6, before the traffic starts streaming into Boston. And once at work, one thing led to another. Axel calls these self-generating tasks. They come on top of tasks that were already on today’s to-do-and-to-finish list. There was not much that could be postponed. I may be up to 90% of my old energetic self, but the pace required 150%.

Sometime during the day I realized that my email in box had quietly filled up again to 100. My colleague and office mate Jennifer asked whether email actually helped get things done. I tried to remember the pre-email days, the days of telexes and snail mail. I would simply not have tried to organize from a distance, on short notice and over the holidays, the complex event we are planning now in Ghana. We would have given ourselves 4 months to organize this, and maybe even one advance trip to set things up. Now, everything has sped up and expectations for immediate action and instant results have also risen, plus the money is tighter: do more with less and faster please. This is the tune we are dancing to. Not just me but everyone in our office. I did not get back in my car to drive home until 5:30. That made for a 10 hour workday; non-stop.

Morsi, who is also traveling to Africa, told me to take it easy; others told me the same. But how do you do that when the pace of work does not relent? Lower standards? Throw my hands in the air? Get sick again? I have yet to discover how to manage this dilemma.

One reason I worked late is to avoid having to work after coming home. When I arrived home the house was warm and welcoming, the food all prepared, a fire in the fireplace and a warm cup of tea, and the comfort of knowing that the work is done for the day. The Gorslines arrived soon after I got home with a hearty bean soup, cookies and cake. My long day ended with great and slow meal in wonderful company. What else is there to wish for?