Sylvia's Journal

My colleague provided me with some medicine to stave off the laryngitis. I followed his directions without questioning – which, when I read the instructions later, I probably should not have done. He gave me some anti-inflammatory and antibiotic tablets, suggesting a dose higher than suggested. I took one without the other, not wanting to contribute to the creation of super bugs here in Burkina. Although I didn’t feel in top form during the day, I was good enough to manage my malaise and keep my voice. I also drank about 3 liters of water.

Now, in the evening, having discovered I already took the maximum daily dose, I am fading fast. The cough and throat ache are worsening. I will make it a 12 hour night.

We had a slow start for the first day of our 2nd leadership development workshop. Two people showed up at nine, and slowly, over the next one and a half hour the remaining 7 showed up. I used to get really upset about such things and wanted people to be more disciplined. But all this wanting and pushing didn’t make a difference and now I simply accept it rather than judge it as a lack of interest. Who am I to know what the reasons are for people’s behavior? It’s better this way. From time to time I would ask whether we could start and then waited for my cues.

As a result we sort of slid sideways into the workshop; more of a conversation than anything else, during which I learned some interesting things – so it wasn’t lost time, as I used to think. Time spent speaking with others about things that matter is never really lost.

I had expected that we would have more than enough time to complete today’s program, and even continue sessions from the second day. After all, the program is timed for the entire morning and part of the afternoon during which at least 7 teams are supposed to present the results of their scanning activities over the last 2 months.

We never had 7 teams. We started with four, then one dropped out and it was clear that another team had been inactive. Still, in spite of having only two teams present, we weren’t able to complete all sessions scheduled for today. In some ways it is easier to work with a very large group because you move on even if not everyone is there. When there are only 9 people in the room, in 3 teams of 3, you can’t do that.

Nevertheless, I think we are off to a good start. We continue to move back and forth between two languages, with the Liberians being good troopers and mostly participating in French; occasionally we switch to English and then the Francophones are good troopers. We have the handouts and facilitator guide in two languages handy and so the bilingualism of this program is working out OK. Sometimes I don’t even know which language I am speaking.

We spent quite a bit of time talking about positional versus relational approaches to leadership and gender, which in French is sexospecificite; a mouthful that trips me up each time. We agreed finally to just say gender and use the English only, after having agreed that we don’t just mean women.

Last night I was invited for a traditional Senegalese meal by my colleague who, since I left in April, has brought his newborn, toddler and wife up to join him. They are all from Senegal and we feasted on Tjeeboudien, a combination of rice, fish and vegetables, eating from a common platter. One eats from the section of the platter directly in front and then staying within that section. It is the role of the host or hostess to constantly shove the choicest pieces to the sections of the guests. And all along we watched, on a tiny screen, the final match of the world cup.

I woke up with all the signs of a laryngitis in the making. Here I have come 6000 miles and now I am losing my voice? I sent an urgent text to my co-facilitator who is also a doctor, to get me some miracle medicine hoping to stop the progress. For once I didn’t bring my salt packets to start gargling as soon as I got up.

The shower was cold and the shower curtain slimy with mold. At breakfast the rancid butter from yesterday was still laid out as if I hadn’t said anything about it and the freshly squeezed orange juice was immediately invaded by a large shiny fly.

One could take all this as signals that this is not going to be a good day; but then when I watch what is happening in Gaza, I tell myself to get real. I am sure they take rancid butter, cold showers, slimy curtains and flies in the OJ anytime there if these rockets could just stop.

This little outing into thinking that somehow the universe conspires against me on certain days is, I have to remind myself, a relic from a time when the human mind (mine and others) were primitive and not ‘self-authoring, establishing a sense of the world that is made by myself, not authored by some magical force. It reminds me of situations where I was working with people who weren’t able to do this self-authoring and thus totally in the grip of something that would not do them any good, without knowing it. This brings me back to Gaza. What are they thinking?