Sylvia's Journal

Lots of wild dreams this night. They are spinning around in my head and as I grasp the tail of each dream it vanishes. Much was about trickery and dishonesty, people hiding things that cannot see the daylight. I think they were triggered by the book I am reading, The State of Africa by Martin Meredith. Annette brought me this book when she visited us in October. It is a great read; A history of late colonial and early independent Africa. There was lots of trickery and dishonesty, on all sides, in addition to enormous brutality and total disrespect of human rights. Unfortunately, there is still much of that goig on. The roots of these weeds are persistent and very deep. During elections time you hear of course more about this than during quiet times. During day time I get more of this via the newspapers.

Yesterday’s sleepless night caught up with me after lunch. I left the office to take a nap. During the morning Josephine and I tied up many loose ends for next week’s workshop and squeezed in a trip to make a courtesy call to a senior ministry of health official, our only chance to see her as she was on her way out to Mombasa for all of next week. She is an important stakeholder. All in all in took nearly two hours sitting in traffic for this visit that lasted barely 10 minutes. Traffic has a domino effect on appointments, with each one being delayed but somehow never cancelled. Boston traffic is a cinch in comparison.

In the early evening I was on a conference call with three of us on cell phones form East Africa (Kenya and Tanzania) and another four sitting in a conference room in Cambridge. It was quite an accomplishment that we got our work done this manner. Joseph was actually on his way to the airport while talking on his cellphone with us. Amazing!

I think the entire week of work, my first in nearly 4 months, is catching up with me as well. I find myself walking more and more slowly and acting less and less like my energetic self. I clearly need plenty of breaks. It is good that the weekend is upon us soon. It will be a very quiet weekend, starting with a massage by Eunice early Saturday morning and probably another quiet Quaker meeting on Sunday. Those are the only plans so far. If energy can be saved up and accumulated for next week, this is when I’ll have to do it. Next week will be intense. The workshop starts on Monday and lasts throughout the week with a team that still has not gotten together (and will not, before Monday).

After having been more or less pain free for a few days I was fairly crippled again yesterday. It was humid and overcast and I find myself always in more pain on such days. Luckily I had only one meeting in the morning. I met up with my co-facilitator William. We sketched out the design for our training of trainers (TOT) workshop next week and William told me about the progress of the teams that we started training in May. It was wonderful to hear about some of the transformations he’d seen and heard about as he traveled to some far flung areas to coach the teams in between workshops.

He, and others who’d been involved in the coaching, told me there are now a few more confident people working in a few more hospitals in Kenya. William had plenty of examples of how that confidence manifests itself at work. These stories are immensely satisfying to hear and make up for all the hard work that went into the design and execution of the program. Of course some teams did not do so well. We talk a lot about team leadership, but when it is missing it is usually because no one is willing to step up to the plate. No matter what we call it, leadership always starts with indviduals who are willing to take some risks.

After William left my shoulders and foot were so painful that I decided to go back to the hotel and take a hot bath. This helped. I also tried to nap but just as I was about to fall asleep Housekeeping knocked on the door, or my cellphone rang, so I gave up.

I left early for my physical therapy session, not wanting to show up late for my appointment, the last one of the day, due to traffic. I arrived just in time. It was an experience that was much different from what I am used to in Manchester. The physical therapist, Karen, is from Danmark, born in Malaysia, studied in the UK, has a home in France and settled down in Kenya for the last 30 or so years. I brought the notes from Julia, my physical therapist in the US, as a reference. Karen glanced at them and then got right to work. While my shoulders and neck were being limbered up with heat pads she worked on my foot the way I imagine Betty works on Axel’s arm: no nonsense and none of that wishy-washy gentle stuff. It was very hard work and quite painful at times, which satisfied my inner Calvinist (pain and suffering is good). After about half an hour she switched to my neck and shoulders. She does not have any of that insurance business here about not being able to treat two different body parts on the same day. Patients pay cash for an hour’s worth of physical therapy: about 45 dollars. Despite the pain and hard work I felt good enough at the end that I made two more appointments with her.

Next to the physical therapy practice is the restaurant where I had lunch earlier. I had an early sandwich dinner and then went home to finish some work and take care of business with MSH Cambridge where my colleagues were still in the early hours of their workday. And then I could not fall asleep for hours. It felt as if something hard and painful was brewing deep down and I prepared for a night full of revealing dreams. Instead I tossed and turned until the early morning hours and woke up without any memory of dreams. A bit disappointing.

I already know that my un- or subconscious is very active but I remain amazed how and why it picks up certain images or words during the day and spins them into magnificent movie scenes. One of my colleagues mentioned a party yesterday where the disc jockey, our very own Christian from MSH, played the YMCA song. She spoke about a thousand other things yesterday but my unconscious grasped this piece and spun it into a dream. I dreamed that I was at the YMCA and wanted to show Sita the cheerleaders that were marching through the streets. In the dream Sita was Dutch and had never seen or heard about cheerleaders. In order to get to Sita who was working up in the rafters (It must be all these invitations to world or regional economic forums) I had to climb up there myself. Someone helped me but it was either very courageous or stupid on my part as it was a bit above my ability and quite risky.

Yesterday I continued easing into work. I got a taste of early morning traffic in Nairobi but arrived in time for an eight o’clock meeting at our MSH office with first Abebe from Ethiopia and then Peter from Kenya. They are wonderful men with whom I had co-facilitated workshops in the past. It was nice see see them after all this time.

We then headed off for the US embassy to have lunch in the embassy cafetaria with USAID staff from the population and health office. This was the new embassy, on the outskirts of Nairobi (the old one was blown up some years ago). The security was intense. I had to give up my bags of green tea, two candies, lipbalm and much more. It was fun to see the security guards unpack my colleague’s bag. You learn a lot from people by seeing what they carry with them. It feels rather invasive this probing of something as intimate as one’s handbag. It was as if we were undressed in public. (We got everything back at the exit). The cafetaria was dominated by a huge (HUGE) screen with a football game going on, we were on American soil after all. I picked the seat with my back to the screen and watched in admiration how our USAID colleague eat her sticky and gooey spare ribs without getting anything on her white blouse. I admired her greatly. I would have been a mess. We discussed leadership and management in Kenya, of course, and got to know each other a bit better.

After lunch Ida took us around the outskirts of Nairobi in order to avoid as much as we could of the infamous and congested Thika road. Kristen and Joseph guided her expertly (with the help of maps) from the backseat through narrow roads that always seemed to have Garden in their name. Garden is a nicer way of saying rural I suppose. It was not a shortcut but more pleasant than sitting in traffic.

We arrived at the Safari Park hotel to see a group of nurses about some programs we are exploring and others we are launching. They were having a workshop there. In Nairobi everyone is always having workshops at one hotel or another. We arrived hours early because we did not want to be caught in the rush hour traffic leaving Nairobi on Thika road. As a result we had a very long wait (several hours actually) of sitting in a disgustingly beautiful garden drinking first tea, then sundowners. I tried the local pretend beer (Malta) which tasted rather malty and syrupy, more medecine, and a downer rather than a sundowner and really too sweet to even pretend. If Axel had been with us he would have, no doubt, be less disciplined and told his nerves to go to hell and partaken in the Kenyan sundowner ritual.

When the nurses emerged from their workshop it was nearly dark and we chatted by candlelight. One nurse had been in a virtual leadership program I led some years ago and it was nice to meet her in the flesh. It felt as if we were old acquaintances. I suppose we were.

Ida dropped us off at a Thai restaurant which has been in Nairobi for ever and, as always, was mostly empty. I have learned from Sita to suspect that it is a shell. But the food was good. Despite the slow rhythm of the day I was pretty pooped when I got home. I managed to squeeze the last energy out to review one document and participate briefly in a virtual conference that started yesterday about family planning in Francophone Africa. I marveled again at how easy it is to feel connected to a larger group of people who share a common vision through one’s computer, sitting alone in a hotel room. I am sorry I missed Axel’s Skype call. The eight hours difference is a bit much late in the day.

I did not think it was possible to dream about physical therapy. If I thought I could do without it for the next two weeks, I got a message to the contrary. In two-hour long stretches of sleep, punctuated by waking up, I dreamed up all sorts of schemes to fit physical therapy sessions into my work schedule. I cannot remember the details; it seemed all very complicated. So when I woke up I was surprised not to have to run off to an appointment. I guess I better make an appointment today.

I am learning about self care. Mary Wright is like my personal coach. She sends me frequent messages cheering on all my attempts at taking good care of myself. I am listening and so is my subconscious. One of my earlier dreams in the night was of a large horse trailer parked on the deck of an oceanliner. It was the horse that reminded me that the hay needed changing, and the water and food bins filled. I did that, which may explain the physical therapy dreams that followed.

So yesterday was my first day of work. I had only two meetings and everything took place at a slow pace, including my walking. I have finally slowed down to the natural pace at which most of Africa walks. It would be New York where I’d get into trouble, but here I fit in quite nicely.

After our morning meeting we went for lunch in a small sandwhich/deli type restaurant located right next to, indeed, a physical therapy practice. So I have the card and can call the number today.

I was rather exhausted and went to bed early after I had a long Skype chat with my colleague Sarah who is in neighboring Tanzania and later with Axel from home. I had brought my little notebook web cam in the hope that Axel and I could see each other but there is a Macintosh incompatibility and he could only see my Skype image. I also had wanted to show him my room. It is quite nice. I bought a bouquet of flowers yesterday (the markets overflow with flowers) which I put in a portable plastic vase that someone gave me a couple of years ago (was it you, Carol?). I am glad I stuck it into my suitcase at the last minute.

I just got a call that I will be picked up in a short while so this entry will be short. Yesterday was a restful Sunday. Ida and I did manage to go to Quaker meeting, a small and quiet affair with a cacophony of noises going on outside from the road and other worshippers. After lunch, just when I felt really sore, Eunice the massage therapist came with her folding massage table and gave me the most wonderful massage in my room. I took a bath and a long nap afterwards.

At the end of the afternoon I had asked Elias to come for tea. He is the kid who had found my name in the East African Aero Club guestbook and with whom I had corresponded for a few months. We had tea and talked about flying, dreams and not giving up. I liked him a lot. He is the same age as Sita and has led all but a charmed life. Somehow he got the idea of flying and although he has made some headway (he passed his ground school, which has already expired) he has a long way to go to pursue his dream of becoming a pilot with the Africa Inland Church. All I can do at this point is cheer him on, which I did. He calls me mum. We took a picture and then he left.

Ida picked me up in the evening and we joined my other colleagues Joseph and Kristen who are here for the week for dinner in a lovely restaurant. Despite the espresso I had I fell asleep quickly, slept well until a lone mosquito woke me up. After a couple of hours of being wide awake I managed to sleep through my alarm. The week has started. Off to work I go.

It is Sunday morning in Nairobi. The city is already up at 7 AM. I am wondering whether it is too early to call the office of Friends International House to find out what time Quaker meeting is. I went there a few years ago. It is in a complex (International Friends House) where both the silent meeting (unprogrammed) takes place and the programmed meeting, in another building on the premises. The programmed meeting is noisy with much singing and loud preaching which goes on for 2 hours. At the end everyone streams out of their respective buildings and they greet each other with the words brothers and sisters. I asked Ida to come with me this time.

Ida made my welcome in Nairobi very easy. She had arranged for a ‘meet and greet’ at the airport to complement the wheelchair KLM arranged. At my arrival a wheelchair was indeed waiting at the door of the plane with a young woman named Karen. She wheeled me into the building and there was another young woman, Theresa, with a sign with my name on it waiting at the end of the jet way. I was pushed with amazing speed through immigration; they parked me near the baggage area and one got my suitcase while the other located my driver. It was the best landing in Africa ever. I also have never been more exhausted at the end of a trip. I could not have done without all this help.

In the plane the KLM staff put an empty metal container in front of my (frontrow) seat after take off. They covered it with a bunch of pillows and provided me with ice packs at regular intervals. The only difficulty was getting in and out of the chair. It was all very comfortable. I was able to do my foot and neck exercises from time to time, and stayed fairly limber throughout the journey.

At the hotel I found a note from Ida giving me the telephone numbers of a massage therapist who makes home (hotel) calls and a physical therapist plus two small washbasins that she had left with the concierge for my foot baths. It was the first thing I did in my room. After that I took care of my communications (internet set up and cellphone card) at the business office and went to bed. I slept a long dream-ful sleep. The only part I remember is a very long glass rowing boat and my surprise to learn that glass did not mean real glass but fiberglass when I noticed it did not shatter into a thousand pieces when it bumped into the side of a building. Something about expectations, I gather, being more resilient than I thought, may be.

By the way, Tessa filled her void quickly and now has a puppy.