Sylvia's Journal

Late September when I signed on for this assignment the 16th of November looked like a long way off. It would be the day that I would know whether going to Kenya was foolish (as some around me said) or whether I could handle an assignment like that again. So the day has arrived and I am still in one piece. The piece is a little sore, especially its lower extremity because it was a very very long workday yesterday; actually it was a very long and intense week. But here I am, November the 16th and I am flying home tonight.

Yesterday started at 6 AM with my usual morning routines that include exercises under the shower and then outside the shower. By then I am usually limber enough to walk fairly normally to the breakfast restaurant which is one flight down and then a short walk past the swimming pool. After that I am being picked. Here in Kenya I am not picked up but picked, just like I am dropped, not dropped off, at the end of the day. The driver takes me to KIA, a ride of about 15 minutes if we are early enough. Then comes the set up for the day, turning on the music so that people can come waltzing in and ready to focus on the tasks ahead.

Yesterday morning was a little different because I taught a short catch up session for people who had missed it on Monday morning on adult learning. I have a lot of fun with this session. I bombard them with a fast lecture about adult learning and violate all the principles that are written on my powerpoint slides. In my reflection afterwards we uncover the feelings people had while I lectured them. After they are sure that they can be honest with me and they get past the customary politeness to professors, especially a foreigner with grey hair, I ask them if I did a good job teaching them, what they think they’ll remember from it and how they’d grade me. I am pleased when I get the lowest grade possible; I should. The rest of the program we will honor the principles of adult learning and they see how, understand why. Now they know.

In the evening there was much to do because on the eve of the last day nothing can be postponed anymore. My foot protested and I slept with it propped up on several pillows. This morning it refused to bear weight by itself, something I know it can do. I am glad I scheduled one more physical therapy session this afternoon. Ida and I will see Josephine and her little girl in the hospital (she has tonsilitis we now know) before I head out to the airport in the evening. KLM is scheduled to depart at 11:10 PM for Amsterdam.

Josephine’s little girl is sick. We sent her home to be with her. She is admitted to the hospital. The health of our children is precious and we don’t realize it until they fall ill. We worry when the doctor cannot tell us what is wrong and the medicines don’t work. But Josephine is among the lucky ones: she has access to doctors, medicine and a hospital. Our work here is for people for whom this is out of reach, a luxury they cannot afford or access. As a consequence their babies die of preventable or treatable illnesses. It is a frightening thought to imagine such a tragedy. Josephine’s worry grounds me as it reminds me of why I am here. I once had a large button made for participants in a workshop here in Kenya, many years ago. Against a background of the colors of the Kenyan flag it says in big white letters “Why Am I Here?” Sita had put that same button on the lamp next to my bed when I first came back from the hospital on July 21. William wore that button on the opening day of this workshop. It is not a bad thing to ask oneself that question periodically

We completed day two of the workshop and tried to get the participants as much grounded in the philosophy, methodology, concepts and tools of the leadership program as is possible in a short time. With life interfering, as it did with Josephine, or other commitments that pull people in and out, our facilitation team is never complete. I am blessed with a team of colleagues that is so flexible that they can handle this reality without batting an eye. I made a point of sitting down more often and putting my legs up while William and Ida ran sessions.

After the workshop was over we drank our tea hastily and went downtown. That sounds easier than it is. We inched our way to the Hilton Hotel which took a good 45 minutes. I caught the nurses in their last hour of work. They were from all over Eastern and Southern Africa as well as the Commonwealth Secretariat from London which sponsored the event. We had a wonderful conversation about what makes midwives and nurses in general effective or ineffective in their work. They had already put subjects in their curriculum that I believe are critical but usually missing such as self awareness, group and power dynamics. The examples I knew about why they need these topics resonated with everyone.

Afterwards Ida picked me up and we had an Indian dinner. Back home a few more exercises, my footbath and email checking routine and then to bed. And now, while I am writing I am multi-tasking again, Skyping with Axel and Tessa at the same time as they are winding down their day and I am ramping up mine. I am already in their tomorrow.

Yesterday things started to speed up. If I had not gotten that idea myself my dreams last night would have informed me. They were of the multi-tasking and sensory overload type such as trying to answer a phone when a noisy speaker truck drives by (the type they use here n Nairobi to broadcast election messages). But there were also babies being born, old movie reruns with extras I knew and a doctor’s check-up. For now I will let these swirl around in my mind while I figure out which marching orders my subconscious has hidden in these dream for me for today. I suspect there is something in them about letting go and letting something be born while taking care of myself. The latter will be a challenge as today I will do double duty: after the workshop I will jump in a taxi and head down-town for a work session with East African nurses who are re-writing the nursing curriculum in the Hilton Hotel. That’s how these things work here. They asked me to talk with them about adding something better in it about management and leadership than what they currently have: theories from dead white men from the US.

Yesterday I had set my alarm very early so I could do my exercises, write in my journal, have breakfast and be on time for Josephine and John to pick me up around 7 AM. When we got to the venue at the Kenya Institute of Administration (KIA) Ida and William were already there, preparing. There was still much to be done, and there were the usual ‘start-of-workshop’ glitches. But we pulled together nicely as a team and the day unfolded much as we had expected, except for the fact that we were missing some the KIA faculty (even though we are at their place) and we were all very cold. In Kenya there are also climate surprises; global warming has made the usual weather pattern unusual.

It was a long day and even longer as there was homework for all of us and for me more exercises, footbaths and all that. Being up and on my feet most of the day took its toll: my foot was swollen and stiff, my neck and shoulders sore. The icepack was waiting in my mini fridge and did the job while I soaked my foot and answered my email; I can do all these things at the same time.

I woke up from a dream in which I was presented with two choices: do something entrepreneurial and creative, or unload a car and add more stuff to a place that was already very full. Axel was encouraging me to go with the creative choice but I got busy loading more stuff into the room which required organizing what was already in there. I am not sure what this is all about other than getting mentally ready for the workshop that begins in a couple of hours.

Sunday was very quiet as I had intended it to be. I did go to Quaker meeting. This meeting is different than ours in that there are books on the table, several Bibles, Faith and Practice and other holy books and one can do contemplative reading during the meeting for worship. One of the members read a passage from Mark. It is the story of Jesus driving out the evil spirit from a, presumably, epilectic boy. The father of the boy had asked Jesus “if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” To which Jesus replied, “If you can? Everything is possible for him who believes.” The story is about the transformational power of believing in something. This is very much the core of our leadership program, here and elsewhere. The transformation occurs when someone believes in something enough to propel him or herself into action; when others see that, some will follow and become believers as well, attracting others. If you have enough of those who believe, things begin to change. This is how social change happens.

The theme reminded me of an interview I once read by Edmond Desmond in 1989 with Mother Teresa in which she said “I am like a little pencil in his [God’s] hand. That is all. He does the thinking. He does the writing. The pencil has nothing to do with it. The pencil has only to be allowed to be used.” And then I thought about the three of us in the plane wreck, three broken pencils, unable to write. And now, nearly four months later, here I am in Nairobi, with a newly sharpened point. I may not be quite like a brandnew pencil, but I am very ready to write again. And the work, not surprising, is about transformation.

Whatever I had done on Friday, the effects continued the next day. I was so full of confidence about my progress but yesterday was discouraging. It was good that Eunice came for my massage at 8 AM. Even so, I had a hard time walking to the breakfast restaurant, which requires descending stairs and then walking over uneven pavement. I had wanted to go downtown and walk around a bit or to the museum, not wanting to stay in my room all day. Walking around did not seem a good idea anymore. I ended up going to the national archives, on Joseph’s and Kristen’s suggestion. It was small enough that I could manage a little less than one hour on my feet. It was hard as it was without any places to sit.

The Kenya National Archives are located in an old building that used to be the Bank of India in the very old days. It is a temple like building and must have looked quite imposing in the center of old Nairobi before it got overshadowed by much taller buildings. But now, with a new paint job, it looked quite charming in the middle of the pollution and chaos of downtown. The ground floor is filled with many artifacts from various Kenyan tribes, sometimes in unlit cases so you can’t really see what’s inside but beautiful craft work nevertheless. Then there are small displays of artifacts from neighboring and other African countries. Upstairs was a rather dusty exhibit of large photographs of many people, white and black, who are presented as heroes but who were in real life villains, crooks and criminals, who enriched themselves beyond belief at the expense of the country. Some were also responsible for unthinkable brutality. I found it hard to look at these glorified pictures. They are collectively responsible for most if not all the current messes.

I was dying to look into some of the old and worn file folders that were on display in glass cases containing official government correspondence on various topics. According to a sticker on them, these folders were open to the public for viewing as they were more than 50 years old. But you could not just lift up the cover and look inside them. I required probably something more than I was prepared to engage in.

The rest of the day I did stay in my room. I took a nap, did some reading and prepared for the workshop. I had a wonderful video skype chat with Tessa and Steve. The webcam allows me to have a full screen window into their room. I could see them play with the new puppy. With this new technology you have to get dressed and be somewhat decent before you sit down at the computer. No more skyping without any clothes on!

For a short while I could do an amazing trick yesterday during the day: standing on my bad foot only, I was able to push up on my toes and lift my heel about half an inch from the ground. It was a little easier with shoes on; then I could lift my heel even higher. I was so excited that I could do this finally. But then, in the evening, no doubt because of my physical therapy and the long walk, I reverted back to my earlier stiffness. And the few times during the night I got up to go to the bathroom my foot was so stiff that I could hardly walk. Now, in the morning I wonder how I managed my trick from yesterday. It seems impossible again.

This morning I woke up from many dreams. One includes Joan, doing well but with a greatly disfigured arm. In another dream I had lost my place in the middle of a powerpoint presentation which included a reading from a book. I even had forgotten the title of my presentation and the place in the book where I was supposed to read from. I had hoped that Axel would help me out but he didn’t. He was busy with something else. The people in the audience either did not seem to notice or were infinitely patient with me, until some weird screensaver kicked in. Then Axel started to search frantically with me. I am glad I woke up. There were many more dreams or parts of one long dream; chaotic, bizarre with me always looking for Axel who was busy or having a great time. I was the one who wanted to leave.

Friday was a half day at the office. Josephine and I worked hard on getting all the materials together and finishing the writing and copying of session handouts and teaching notes. We had a brief meeting with Mokaya from the Kenya Institute of Administration who will be part of our team. He is also teaching full time so it is hard to get a hold of him. We were able to meet with him briefly before the start of his class. He asked about Axel who he has never met. Because they are following our recovery on Caringbridge, many people feel they know Axel and follow his recovery like they are following mine. I get such a kick out of this.

When the lights in the office were being turned off and people started to leave I got nervous. During previous visits I was completely independent. I would walk to and from my hotel, an easy walk if you are sure-footed. Now I cannot do this so easily, especially with all the stuff I carry along. I felt a bit helpless as people are starting to leave and I had not been able to get a taxi. This is the part of my current condition that creates much anxiety; little things like this that I never even thought about before. The world is an entirely different place if you can’t walk that well. When Josephine finally left an hour later she noticed I was still there. Her husband, waiting for her in the car downstairs, gave me a lift to the hotel.

I had another physical therapy session with Karen and although it was once again pretty intense, I felt great afterward. Either foolishly or bravely I walked, far too long (explaining my current stiffness and soreness no doubt) over nonexisting or very uneven sidewalks to a nearby shopping center. It was very hard work. I walked partially because it would be faster than the traffic but also because I had wanted to check out Dr. Li’s Chinese Herbal Remedies and Acupuncture clinic. I was curious about acupuncture by a real Chinese doctor. He had successfully cured Karen’s son-in-law from allergies. Unfortunately the clinic is closed on weekends, so no acupuncture this time.

At the Uchumi supermarket, amidst thousands of Indian shoppers preparing for their Dawali festival tonight, I stocked up on such survival items as chocolate and chips for late night snacks next week. Gone are all my good intentions from the early recovery period when I avoided anything that was unwholesome and that would surely distract my body from healing. I am still avoiding the alcohol on behalf of the nerves, however.

Ida and I had a wonderful dinner in a garden restaurant and were finally able to catch up on our lives. When we meet in a work setting we never get around to that. Later Sita Skyped me and we watched each other on videos through our webcams. I showed her my hotel room and droopy flowers and I could see her cats and even the weather outside. We made faces at each other. She is off to Delhi in a couple of weeks for another interesting assignment.

There were loud bangs throughout the evening and the night. These were fireworks from Dawali revelers, not gunshots. They sound the same as I remember from Lebanon.