Sylvia's Journal

The number of participants has shrunk to 14. This was intentional. The people who are left are supposed to be the facilitators of the two leadership programs that will be launched in October. One group is going to realize one part of the vision that they created on the first day (medicine and supplies always in stock in the 200+ facilities) while the other is trying to get several groups of mothers and youth to take matters in their own hand in Cite Soleil, Haiti’s infamous capital slum. But before either of those things will happen, much needs to be done.

It is hard to shift from a training paradigm that consists of experts telling you what to do, who then hope you implement what they told you to. It is called the ‘spray and pray’ method. I sprayed a little yesterday but today several small groups will actually teach short pieces from the program by way of practice. It will also give me a better idea about the facilitator skill level of the people I will be coaching from a distance. It will also make the whole adventure more real for them.

When I handed out the assignments there was a visible shiver in the room. If some people had been hoping that this was going to be something that would not require much efforts (and was rewarded with abundant food at break and lunch time), then this was the rude awaking. It will be interesting to see if everyone shows up today. The whole event was labeled as a TOT (training of trainers), so it makes you wonder what people were thinking, but I also know that we human being are very good at fooling ourselves.

At the end of the day Antoine invited me to his home where, since one week, his family is also installed after a separation of 3 months. They are from Senegal, a place where two major life events occurred for our family: our marriage and Sita’s birth. Antoine has a young family with two adorable daughters, a very precocious 5 year old and an 11-month old baby. It was nice to escape the very limited hotel menu for a night and be fed Senegalese food which is one type of food I could eat for days in a row. After dinner I taught the five-year old Dutch children’s songs while she was trying to remember and English one. They had lived in Ghana until only a few months ago and I knew she could speak English (and Wolof) but she told me she could not remember. I predict that the Ndiayes are going to have a strong-willed teenager on their hands in about 10 years.

They live in a house that is glued to the mountain and overlooks the harbor and the airport. It looks tiny when you drive in from the street, where a heavily-armed guard greets you; but behind the entrance gate Escherian steps go up and down and reveal several stories and sections that make it more like a palace. The place is beautiful beyond belief and everything about its location, the flora and the climate in which it sits is gorgeous, except for that armed guard and the misery that exists too close for comfort. It reminds me of a joke the Libanese used to make when we lived there: God created Libanon first and poured all his love and beauty into the place. When it was finished he realized it was as perfect as heaven and people living in such a place would be spoiled (this is a very Calvinistic God) and so he put the Lebanese in it. It could have been a story about Haiti.