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Essentials

Published January 12, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
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I took care of the essentials after my first day at work here: a pedicure and a heavenly massage after a productive day at work, meeting the team, finalizing the agenda, studying the agreement with USAID and learning about the contractual requirements that we have to fulfill in the next 5 years.

I had heard about the Rwandan transformation (since I was last here). As a graph it would look like a deep dive into the netherworld and then a more or less straight line up.  Here are the things that I noticed as I traversed the city twice today:

  • The sidewalks are even, clean, and devoid of weeds with on and off ramps. The maintenance is outsourced.
  • All motorbike riders (taxis and privates) wear helmets; the motor bike taxis carry a helmet for their passengers. Not doing so will cost you dearly.
  • Everyone has their seatbelts on, not doing so will cost you.
  • The roads (I am told) to the provinces are as good as the ones in Kigali.
  • Speed limits are checked. If you speed you pay.
  • Cars generally look in good shape, not like the ones (taxis especially) I have taken in other countries in Africa that look like they hold together with wire, duct tape and gum, with questionable brakes and missing essential car upholstery.

It shows what is possible, and could be achieved in the surrounding countries, if the leadership thinks such public health measures are important. They certainly will have reduced the cost of caring for trauma patients or losing productive members of society to preventable traffic accidents.  I am sure I will learn about other public health measures that this country has taken to ensure a healthy and productive workforce.

My two colleagues have arrived from DC and tomorrow we will drive to Gisenyi  to start our retreat.

Landed – Kigali City

Published January 11, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
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I arrived in Kigali after an uneventful but long trip; unless the storms in Holland and western Europe count as eventful. All the planes out of Schiphol had to use the same runway which made for an extra hour sitting in the plane, waiting.

On the Amsterdam to Kigali leg there were less sneezers and coughers than on the previous leg, which was a little extreme. Still, there were a few in my neighborhood, so on went the mask. Again, I was the only one. No one else seems to be worried – am I becoming too American, worrying about germs? My two most recent bouts with pneumonia and upper respiratory illness during the entire length of my stay in Burkina and later in Madagascar have made me a little paranoid.

I might as well have arrived in a new country, even the capital  is no longer simply Kigali, but Kigali City. So far I have not recognized anything except the hotel Mille Collines that our driver pointed out to me. I did recognize a former colleague on the plane. She now works for another organization in DC as their capacity building expert. Her new job allows her to fly business class – such luck! They must not have much competition if they can afford the steep B-class fares for their staff.

I had settled in my hotel room feeling as if I just had stepped off a long boat ride, with the hotel room swaying as if there was an earthquake (there wasn’t – just my brain playing tricks one me).

I called room service for a plastic bag with ice for my sore shoulder. But how to do that in a country that has banned plastic bags (the sturdy yellow Schiphol bags are perfect for icing). Before embarking we were told that we should leave all plastic bags on the plane.  The nice room service girl came up with a bucket of ice, a mesh bag (not plastic) and a hairnet (also not plastic and full of holes) to put the ice in. I don’t think she understood the purpose and looked very concerned when I told her I was injured and needed to get the inflammation down. She offered to call a doctor.  As soon as she left the room I took one of the many small plastic bags that the TSA requires for liquids and was able to ice myself without getting soaked. I think such bags are legal.

Tomorrow I will meet the new team, which consists mostly of old-timers. One of the newcomers authored several books and studies on leadership in East Asia which I devoured for a writing assignment some years ago. What a surprise to meet him here in faraway Africa, and now a colleague of mine.

Travelling again

Published January 11, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment

I am back on the road, after 2 months on the ground, something that is rather rare. I am off to warmer places, a welcome change after the intense cold spell in Massachusetts.

I nearly forgot the routine. Luckily I put my face masks in my hand luggage at the last minute because I have never been on a plane with so many coughers and sneezers, including my neighbor.  I pressed the mask tightly on and only lifted it for drinking sips of water and taking my meals, so there were some breaches; fingers crossed.

I waved my breakfast in the plane in order to leave room for the much better offerings in the KLM lounge: beschuit met kaas, beschuit met hagelslag, poffertjes and speculaas koekjes. This is where I get my fix of Dutch goodies not available in the US.

I am off on a combo trip: first two weeks in Rwanda where I last landed in 1992. It is a different country now, in many ways, traumatized still, I presume. How could one not, with the generation that survived the slaughter still alive, and adults with unspeakable memories from childhood. And then there is the language, from French to English, although I am told there are still plenty of (older) French speakers around who struggle with English.

I am facilitating the launch of a new project that is actually not all that new, a follow-on of the previous one that we also held, and so many staff continue on, with some new employees and new partners.  We will hold this workplanning retreat off site, some 100 km from Kigali in a place called Gisenyi, on the border with the DRC. I was there too 23 years ago.  We walked across the border into what was then Zaire to experience super-inflation: 2.5 million Zaires, the currency then, bought me a tube of toothpaste. I still have a few of the million Zaire bills, kept as a souvenir of a different era. I also have some Rwandan money from that time.

In my second week in Rwanda the project staff will sit down with its government counterparts and go over their plans to make sure everyone is aligned and expectations can be met.

After that I will fly to Nairobi for a short stay to meet a new hire, the woman who will take over my role as Global Technical Lead for leadership and management. I hope that the new energy she brings and her new ideas will enrich us. I have, after all, been at MSH for 28 years and an injection of something new is called for.

From there I will go to Addis for a brief orientation of ICRC coordinators to prepare them for their role in a senior leadership program that will kick off after my surgery, when I am allowed to travel again, sometime in April.

Ripped

Published January 6, 2015 Uncategorized 1 Comment

It seems every year there is some surgery  that is necessary so I can function as a whole person (again). The ankle, securely fused, now allows me to walk without pain on flat surfaces.  Frozen unpaved surfaces remain a challenge, but I am learning to adjust to that reality which is a whole lot better than what happened to others recently.

After a nice Thanksgiving dinner at Sita’s in laws I slipped on a small patch of ice – my luck – and learned today from the shoulder doctor, supported  by pretty graphic MRI pictures that even I understood, that I managed to tear two tendons, the supra and infra spinatus, which are supposed to keep my (left) shoulder in place, entirely off the bone. Although I had already started on a regimen of physical therapy and anti-inflammatory pills, they cannot repair this, only the surgeon can.  Of the eight tendons that keep my two shoulders in place, one is retracted beyond repair (from the plane crash), one was pulled up and is anchored in the bone, and now these two.  Ughhh.

So I am looking at surgery again. I know the drill now – 6 weeks in a sling, and PT for months.

A sad start

Published January 4, 2015 Uncategorized 1 Comment

The year started sadly, only days after all the good wishes and happy thoughts, always for a better year than the last. But the reality is that every new year carries sadness and suffering alongside happiness and joy. A young Dutch/Indian couple, rejoicing in the arrival of their first baby later this year, which they announced on Christmas day to the grandparents, friends of mine in Holland, is no longer a couple. The young woman died on the second day of the new year as the pregnancy turned out to be ectopic and, I assume, medical aid came too late, in far away Bangalore. I am familiar with the statistics of maternal death in India (190 deaths for every 100.000 live births) but when it is someone you know, who happens to be the same age as your own daughter, it is terribly upsetting.

Old and new

Published January 3, 2015 Uncategorized Leave a Comment

We headed to Easthampton on New Year’s Eve, allowing us to get our Faro-fix and also celebrate the arrival of the New Year with some of our daughter and son-in-law’s closest friends. We made raviolis from scratch sitting around the kitchen table, taking turns at hand cranking the pasta maker, placing dollops of various fillings on the thin bands of dough and stamping the raviolis, square and round. A salad and scallops cooked to perfection rounded out the last meal of 2014.

I had a hard time keeping my eyes open past 10 PM, my usual bedtime. Axel closed his eyes and fell asleep and we woke him up minutes before midnight – as my parents used to do when I was little.

I remember being carried down and placed on the black-tiled window sill, cold to my feet, pressing my nose to the cold glass and watching the fireworks being lighted by the older kids in our street.  Most of the grown-ups would be out, greeting neighbors and standing, arms crossed to stay warm, teeth chattering, exchanging wishes and watching the do-it-yourself fireworks.

Inside it was warm and there was food and warm wine, sometimes champagne and always enormous quantities of runny French cheese and baguettes. I wasn’t interested in the cheese and wine; instead I would go for the leftover chocolates. But the biggest thrill would be to be tolerated among the merry grown-ups. Some years later we would all stay up and play card games until midnight and then go out onto the street and wish our neighbors happy New Year. That is still what happens in Holland: the midnight hour is a signal for a neighborhood to go out and share good wishes; here in the US, if you choose to stay home, New Year’s Eve is a private rather than a community event.

On New Year ’s Day we visited Sita Co.Lab in Easthampton, a large loft in an old mill building, where Sita started her 3rd business,  a place for young entrepreneurs to work side by side or together, turning ideas into something that produces an income, in an environment that is all about creativity. She’s done a great job in furnishing the place, creating a shared vision, a pricing policy and private, semi-private and common spaces; some are being rented, some not yet. It’s risky business, as all new ventures are, but she’s committed to make it work. Now, for their first time, she and Jim have a real office and we have a place to park our unused furniture, our rugs and old copies of Wired Magazine. Now she needs more toys and things that will stimulate the creative urges of its tenants.

We spent the afternoon assembling IKEA furniture, something I love to do, probably because it is simply a variant on my favorite pastime, the puzzle.

January 2015
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