Sylvia's Journal

From a vague recollection of my dreams it seems that my mind is already in Ethiopia. But my body is still very much in Manchester this morning. And so is my suitcase; open, half packed for a high altitude Africa experience that requires thinking, rather than the automatic packing response I have for more tropical climates. My colleague Liz who is already there wrote me that it is chilly and pants and sweaters are in order.

I was going to pack light and hand carry my luggage. But the combination of cool weather clothes, Axel’s order for at least 2 kilos of Yergecheff coffee, plus the prohibition by my physical therapist of having anything heavy compressing my shoulder made me abandon that idea.

Yesterday I spent the entire morning, four long hours, in a small and overheated room listening to one powerpoint after another, a show put on for our evaluators. It was a bit much for me – they didn’t let on but I pitied them since they also had an afternoon like that, and today another whole day. I tried to imagine what it must be like to get 20 years of experience in a particular set of interventions (management and leadership development in developing countries) compressed, distilled to its essence, dumped in one’s lap like that. But they appeared engaged and attentive and asked good questions. The poor things also have to read thousands of pages and travel to Nicaragua, Nigeria and Peru.

I stayed late at work to clean off my desk for the next 2 weeks when I will not be sitting at either my home or office desk and my attention is elsewhere. I drove home following Tessa and Steve in the direction of Manchester by about a half hour and consulted on the phone which route to take – it is nice to have scouts like that. Their advice was good and despite the rush hour I made it home in one hour.

Dinner was ready, cooked by Steve and Tessa, and a harbinger of spring: asparagus (not quite from the US but no longer from far Peru), ham, eggs and boiled potatoes. After dinner I packed half my suitcase and went through my travel prep routines while Axel educated himself on CPA politics and practices and then caught up on a movie that we have been watching in turns to arrive at the place where I left off. We finally watched the ending of the movie together, The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, with Ingrid Bergman, and cried over its sappy and beautiful ending.

The movie is about leadership, focused perseverance in particular, but men would call it foolishness and stubbornness. It is based on the life of Gladys Aylward, a missionary in China in the 1930s who became a foot inspector and travelled through the countryside to enforce the new law against the horrendous practice of binding the feet of young girls.

This movie was the second in a row we watched about harmful practices that males have imposed on women in various parts of the world to keep them down. The other was Ousman Sembene’s Mooladé about female genital cutting in Mali; also a story about leadership, courage, perseverance, or, if you are a frightened old man who sees power slipping away but still wants to be right, foolishness. I am grateful for all these courageous women in the world, the known and the unknown heroes who added so much to the wellbeing of us all.