Sylvia's Journal

This is the name of the USAID procurement that appeared in my dream, not just once but over and over. It was a procurement that combined population and environment; and old combination I remember from the early days of my career, when I was working in UNESCO’s population education program in Dakar. It was a euphemism for family planning, two words we weren’t allowed to utter because of their highly sensitive association with population control (by white folks).

Population education had the same intent, by raising awareness about the relationship between population and environment in a part of the world where the balance was rather fragile. These were the days when the west pointed at environmental degradation in developing countries, especially Africa, and unbridled population growth as the main culprit. There were a few voices that told of the role of the industrialized countries but they were not very popular and rather weak.

Much has changed now, especially in Senegal. When I returned, 10 years after our 1981 departure, signs on public busses exhorted the population to plan their families. When you are in the middle of things 10 years seem like a long time but on a cosmic scale it is nothing of course. Politics (and necessity) can change opinions very quickly.

I hope it was a predictive dream. In August 2010 my employed contract will run out and unless there is another procurement that seeks better leadership of health programs, there is no guarantee for further employment. I have gone through this anxiety now five times, every five years but each time a new procurement (and us winning it) extended my security for another 5 years. It will be interesting to see if and how Hillary will affect my professional, and by extension, my family life.

Yesterday, after the ultrasound, the physical therapist treated my upper arm with low electrical currents that felt like a tiny animal running back and forth over my arm. It’s a mystery to me how all these treatments work. I do understand that they bring blood and therefore nutrition to the damaged cells but the mechanics of that escape me. The healing from the contusion and possible tear is excruciatingly slow. Waking up in the morning feels like a setback of more than a year as everything hurts when I get up and I can barely use my right (and dominant) arm. The hot shower loosens things up a bit and I spent more than the usual time there.

This morning I will see the shoulder doctor again at the enormous orthopedic practice that the local orthopedic competition refers to as the evil empire. I will bring my knitting and my Kindle and settle in for a long wait – if seeing the shoulder doctor there is anything like my previous experience with the ankle doctor from the same empire. This is the blond young doctor who I no longer see due to his hurriedness and my lack of confidence in his diagnostic abilities.