Sylvia's Journal

We have a full house again. Andrew moved in for a week. Andrew is a young man on his way to Kenya where he will run a project that helps other, and less fortunate, young men in Kibera (Nairobi) and in Navaisha build and alter bikes for use in santitation and waste disposal. He is doing that for a small (tiny) organization called WorldBike. I have been asked to be on the Board of this organization. WorldBike has been hired by UN Human Settlements Program in Kenya. The operation is a bit of a family venture and also runs on a shoe string budget, so project managers are put up by friends and family when the budget has no line for a hotel.

My Quaker friend Kristna is the Executive Director of the organization. She dropped Andrew off and stayed for a Mexican dinner which we ate sitting by the cove on what felt like a late July evening; the mosquitoes thought it was still winter and it was only just before the sun went down behind the Putnam woods they discovered we were out there. Sita and Jim joined us and there was much to talk about: Kenya, Africa, Social entrepreneurship and amazing NGOs, like Kickstart, BRAC and so many others that grew out of nothing more than an idea and a huge reservoir of dedication, patience and perseverance. I think I saw a sparkle in Andrew’s eye. Who knows, we might be sitting in the company of another such brilliant young leader who will leave his mark on thousands of people.

Although yesterday was a Monday I drove into Cambridge because of meeting that could not be arranged any other time. This was an after action review meeting of our recently completed virtual leadership program with deans and their faculty teams from medical, nursing and public health professionals from Egypt, Yemen, Mexico, Uganda, Tanzania, Kenya and South Africa. After the meeting I sat with my colleague Jon who is officially retired but unofficially not and divides his time between Dhaka, Capetown and the Bahamas. We share a love for rowing and sailing as well as public health. We explored ways to get involved in the public health program that was started at BRAC University some four years ago.

And then there was an unprogrammed afternoon and I decided it was time for a row on the Charles River. It was the first such a row since July 14th 2007. I like rowing in the middle of the day because there is no one else on the river and only very few motor boats. The river is very crowded when the sun gets up, just about this time when I am writing in my blog each morning, and after school when all the clubs have their boats out training for the next scheduled event. In this cold climate all the races are squished together into a very short period of time, when water temperatures will not kill you in minutes.

Although a bit windy I managed to do my old routine: a 3.5 mile stretch from the boathouse to the Elliott Bridge and back. It was as if I never interrupted rowing. I had been worried about my right ankle and my glute(us maximus) which has been giving me so much trouble lately; but all the body parts aligned for the movement of rowing without a hitch or even hint of pain. However, by the time I arrived back at the boathouse I was very tired and realized that it had taken me a bit longer to row the distance than before the accident: a 10% difference; all in all not bad given that I have not done any aerobic exercise for more than 10 months.

Rowing on the Charles is always a treat because there is so much to see along the banks. For one there is the wildlife: I counted about 10 Black-crowned Night-herons. These birds are odd looking creatures. I learned that young Black-crowned Night-Herons often disgorge their stomach contents when disturbed. The adults would make good partners to cuckoos as they do not distinguish between their own young and those from other nests, and will brood chicks not their own. There were also snapping turtles, sunning themselves on logs. And of course then there are the humans. Unlike the herons they come in all shades and forms. There are the Japanese tourists who always take pictures of everything, which includes me. There is the office-worker lunch crowd; there are the young lovers, picking spots not easy to see from the road but very visible from the water. There are the countless joggers, attached to iPods, running along mechanically whose speed is averaged out by the shuffling elderly with their walkers and minders.

After a row my head is always red like a lobster; I prefer to go home. I had some silly idea that I would do some more work back home but found Axel steaming from his nostrils after another hissy-fit about the general clutter in our house. Luckily Sita had come to the rescue but only after she heard loud swearing coming from the house. Axel had been preparing Andrew’s sleeping quarters and had run into the storage limitation of our house and some neglectful behavior of previous occupants of that room.

I decided to let him cool off upstairs and prepare dinner myself. This allowed me to finish the delightful British comedy/detective book-on-tape ‘The trouble with Harriet’ which would otherwise have me sit in the car on the driveway. Much of the dinner was already cooked by trader Joe anyways so it was not much of a chore.

After dinner we watched the last episode of Prime Suspect and finally disovered who dunnit and we cheered along with all the macho guys in Chief Inspector Tennyson’s office who, after much grumbling and sabotage finally admitted that a woman could do the job. And then it was bedtime again.