Sylvia's Journal

Yesterday when I woke up the skies were clear and I could see Mount Meru right from my window. It is huge and rises out of nothing; most of the time it is hidden from view by clouds. I have yet to see Mount Kilimanjaro. I wonder about these sturdy climbers from the plane. Where are they now?

We had a wonderful and productive day yesterday. This is one of these assignments when I marvel how I have come to be so lucky to be paid for something I would do as a hobby. I wonder if journalists feel this way. We spent a good part of the morning telling stories, or rather, me asking questions and my colleagues telling stories, about the people they admire and why. I heard many stories about how their lives have been touched by the larger than life Africans of their/our generation such as Nyerere or Mandela. The African history book (The State of Africa) that I finished reading in fall is coming to life through these stories. Much of the appeal comes from these leaders’ principledness, their integrity, their humility. At some very grassroots level, this is the story of African communities and their leaders; at a national level these stories represent the opposite of what the world has generally seen displayed in this part of the world.

We also talked about what events or conditions trigger personal growth and which ones of these we can re-create in a classroom. I learn much about my colleagues this way and I see, again, how racism and colonialism has touched people. It is very humbling.

Throughout these conversations the course is beginning to shape up. This morning we will agree on the learning objectives and begin to brainstorm about the kinds of activities that may bring about the achievement of these objectives. We are right on schedule.

I spent another 6 hours or so, till about midnight, struggling with my connection to the rest of the world. It is funny how isolated I feel without my mailbox being wide open, at all times, to Boston and home. At least my cellphone is now known by my colleagues and some have called, transmitting all these messages that I usually transmit by email.

As a result of my internet problems I am making good progress in my book. Usually, being connected at all times, means that new work or reminders of old work keep appearing on my screen. That is not happening right now. This is both good and bad. Good for the reading and bad for what will happen once I am connected again.

In the afternoon I visited two gentlemen who I had last seen in Gothenburg exactly 12 years ago. It was interesting to hear how they experienced the course which was for me so full of conflict that it still hurts when I think about it. Apparently I missed the last of four workshops, in Entebbe, in which more conflict erupted. I had tried to use the conflict as the source for productive conversation and learning; I didn’t really manage to do that, only piss off a lot of people. My African friends remembered the conflict and smiled but, diplomatically, made no comments. For me that particular course was a lesson in what happens when you don’t want to deal with conflict but it was also one of the times that I got a glimpse of the extraordinary amount of hurt and anger that colonialism and racism has accumulated into the very cells of some people here. It gives you pause. It is also an antidote for the usual impatience that characterizes much foreign assistance. The paradox is that this very impatience has led to a situation where people, especially from the West and North emphasize that they have been patient long enough and now it is time for action. Maybe this is why these internet problems are thrown at us when we are here….to calm down (which we can’t because we need to get that goddam mail!).