Sylvia's Journal

Archive Page 117

A cow for an iPad

Published February 16, 2012 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Namibia

I have been making 18 hour days since I arrived in Windhoek, leaving little time to write but tonight I was done at a more reasonable hour.

I am finding myself once again in the company of people who know the language of experiential learning but only as a concept. It is a delicate process to create opportunities to show when my so-called co-facilitators are highly credentialed people, as lecturers that is. It feels arrogant but I have to create these spaces for demonstrating what I am talking about because that is the only way to bring about a change.

Yesterday we started the crash course in applying adult education principles to teaching about leadership with people used to imparting knowledge. It was a halting start. There is pressure to produce a workshop that stands out from all the others AND to make sure there is ownership, all this in only a few days with people coming from such different background. So yesterday was the first tentative dance step – today a bit more and tomorrow is the last day before we are on stage so to speak, on Monday.

Last night my colleague Don and I had dinner at S. house and I finally saw baby A. S and I met at least 7 years ago, sitting next to each other on the plane to Lesotho and discovering we knew the same South African man: a friend of mine from previous work in South Africa, and her fiancée. Since then he has been staying at our house in Kabul, consulting to MSH while I never made it to Windhoek. And just when I finally made it, he is once again consulting in Kabul – such bad luck.

S’s company and ours work with the same ministry here and although it was a social visit, we did talk shop, mostly to make sure we complement rather than compete with each other. The dinner was lovely but took a big bite out of the evening, keeping me working till after midnight and up before 7 AM.

Today we met with the ministry that is sending 40 people to the national public administration learning institution where we and one of their staff will hold a one week workshop about leadership for decentralization. The meeting was to get the green light on the design and create some excitement. Without even having gone through the exercise a request for a repeat workshop is already on the table – followed by a request to prolong my stay here.

The rest of the day we worked with our counterparts through the program, a mini version of what we do next week. People are getting on board though not necessarily ready to lead sessions. We will play that by ear. My colleague A from Pretoria is joining us on Saturday, brining an extra pair of experienced hands.

We had lunch with the participants of another leadership and management program that is put on by a French group and part of the certificate program. They work like us with round tables and flipcharts on the wall.

I noticed the iPad near the plate of the participants. I asked him if he was the owner. Yes, he said, but he was still mastering it. He told us that he had to choose between a cow and an iPad, they are about the same value, and that he had chosen the iPad. This is a significant shift away from traditional practices. This then led to a heated conversation about paying for things in cash on or credit, about ‘those’ teenagers and such – not that different from conversations around lunch tables in other parts of the world I bet, except of course for the cow/iPad part.

Coming and going

Published February 14, 2012 On the road 1 Comment
Tags: South Africa

After a semi sleepless night during which the welcome port wine came as a great solace I struggled with climate control, mostly my own internal thermostat which is terribly off kilter; I had the windows to my balcony open to let the cool air night come in but it also brought in a mosquito. I ended up with the airco on and the mosquito frozen out.

After a leisurely breakfast M., who is leaving tonight for frozen Amsterdam, gave everyone goodbye hugs, including innkeepers and fellow guests. She has become the missing daughter for all of them it seemed. The guesthouse staff lined up for her to sing the African national hymn in two part harmony. It was all very sweet. She is a regular – I am not quite in a hugging relationship with them as I only stayed there two nights and will only touchdown briefly in between my assignments in Namibia and Lesotho. We hoisted our suitcases in the car and drove down the hill to the office.

I continued my interviews with the senior staff to get a handle on how to design the so-called teambuilding that is one of my three assignments. I am looking for (and finding) themes around which to organize our precious time together. I will discuss those with the boss tonight who is awaiting my arrival in Windhoek, Namibia.

Now I am turning my attention to my other assignment which is with the project’s clients, two public institutions. My colleague from Nigeria, the project manager, has gotten his long awaited visa to Namibia. The good Nigerians carry the terrible burden of being associated with a bad brand. Few countries are eager to give visas to carriers of a Nigerian passport. I had all but given up on working side by side with him in Namibia and we had agreed on nightly skype calls so he could download whatever I learned or did. The good news is that now we can work together in the same place. He will probably join me on Saturday, in time for a weekend huddle.

I had already boarded the plane to Namibia at the appointed hour (5:15PM) when the captain announced that ‘a component’ needed to be replaced. There was a long wait and then we got the thumbs down, invited to leave the plane and board the bus circling half the airport back to the gate area. There were many sighs and one man pounded his fist on the chair next to him. I thought ‘better on the ground wishing to be up there than being in the air wishing to be on the ground.’
Our new departure time is announced on the big screen as ‘departure 6:15+. The plus sign is a little ominous, especially since most of the flights above and below it read, in the comment column, ‘indefinite.’ I am well prepared for a long wait: book, computer and smart phone will give me something to do with or without electricity.

My colleague handling the third assignment in Lesotho is asking for more of my time. In fact he was the original requester of my presence and others just hopped on board. He wants me to stay till the 14th at which point another project said, well then, this comes very close to a need we have for facilitation several days after that. I like working here so I would say fine except that I am not a one person show and need to run things by others. And then of course there are other trips lined up in April.

Exquisites

Published February 13, 2012 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: South Africa

The blackberry that was offered to me to serve as my office phone during my stay here was incomprehensible to me. It is not an intuitive gadget. Worse, its alarm went off at 4:30 AM, just when I was getting into a deep sleep. I didn’t know how to stop the darn thing and ended up removing the battery. I gave it back this morning. I only took the simcard which I inserted into my own phone.

I spent the day getting to know the cast of characters, most of whom I didn’t know, except for some MSH oldtimers. I have basically three assignments in three different countries, one assignment consisting of two parts, an engagement with two different clients, each with a set of objectives that I need to clarify in the coming days.

Among the things I discovered is that I will spent very little time at the lovely guesthouse I am at now – mostly days in between travel to Namibia and Lesotho. I have never been to Namibia. I have been to Lesotho several times, the first time more than 20 years ago – with my then mentor Michael, a person who died before I was able to tell him how much he taught me. I don’t think he realized that. I still keep as my precious keepsakes from that trip a list of ‘Michael’s Maxims.’ One of those was ‘never swim against the current!’ This taught me early on to figure out the current – a very useful piece of advice that I am heeding even now. Today was such a day of figuring out the current. The day after tomorrow I will be figurng out the current in Namibia.

My colleague M took me out for a walk to a lovely lunch place – the place nicer than the lunch which tasted wonderful because of the high fat content but won’t do much good as I try to get back to my ‘before-the-Holland-vacation’ weight. South Africa is not a good place to try to do that. Japan was better in that sense.

The guesthouse lends itself well to enjoying open air cocktails. We did just that and in the process I got acquainted with a couple from Tennessee who had adopted M as their third daughter, mom knitting a woolen cap for M’s upcoming days in below-freezing Amsterdam. M had warned me that they are talkers and so we finally excused ourselves for having to do ‘work.’ We politely declined the extra table they had added to theirs for dinner and continued our ‘work’ at a separate dinner table.

Although the innkeepers don’t advertise the place as a restaurant, guest can have dinner as long as they let the staff know before noontime as everything is procured fresh on the day of consumption. The cooking is a family affair and produced a delicious dinner with an accompanying wine recommended by the innkeeper. We choose red and he selected Fundi: the only wine produced by a female black wine maker in South Africa – it was exquisite. I still can’t have more than a glass but it perfectly complemented the meal. I was wondering what Axel was drinking in Abuja – probably beer.

And now, after having unpacked last night, it is time to pack up again for 10 days in Namibia.

Good start

Published February 12, 2012 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: South Africa

Just before boarding the 15 hour flight to Jo’burg I questioned my sanity for a moment – why not fly via Amsterdam and cut up the journey with a ‘broodje kaas’ or a ‘broodje haring’ accompanied by the proper libations. But looking back I am glad I decided on this route. With the help of ayurvedic sleep medicine I passed most of the trip in blissful oblivion which was a good thing as the flight is mostly over water and far away from shores.

Right in front of me were the B-class pods – once you have tasted that it is a little more painful to travel in the back but the Economy Comfort made my travel relatively comfortable – those 4 extra inches make a big difference – compared to the people packed like sardines in the back of the plane.

South Africa looks so together when you arrive – everything works as it supposed to work, the airport is clean, the people working and waiting are disciplined and relatively quiet (compared to places like Haiti and Afghanistan). The four lane road to Pretoria is immaculate, the signage is clear and abundant.

My driver, Aaron, greated me with the news that Whitney Houston had died. She is hugely popular here and so there is much grief. Aaron is a man of many talent: speaking all the official South African languages (11 of them), in the weekend a priest in his Pentecostal church and during the week a driver with a travel agency.

He delivered me at the Bohemian Inn – a lovely B&B built into the hill side consisting of various structures that could be Spanish Mediterranean, bricked courtyards, wrought iron furniture and balconies with all sorts of small nooks and crannies, places to sit and have breakfast, tea or cocktails. Other than the sound of birds the place is completely quiet – now that it is evening and the birds are quiet, there are no sounds at all.

My room is on the top floor of the highest building – a lot of stair walking for staff – with windows on three sides offering views of the valley and more hill top. The room and some of the open spaces are hung with oriental carpets – the innkeepers clearly like to travel in the Middle East. They had not made it to the more chaotic places but hope to do so one day when they quiet down. From what I saw on Al Jazeera nothing like that is going to happen anytime soon.

My room is dotted with tiny arrangements of fragrant flowers wrapped in ivy – on the tea tray, on the welcome fruit platter, in the bathroom, on the bed, on the pillows. What to do with them all?

Since this is not a hotel with a restaurant the innkeeper offered to drive me to a restaurant or make me a grilled cheese sandwich. I opted for the latter and received an elaborate plate with something that was much more elegant than the offer had implied.

Travel jitters

Published February 12, 2012 On the road , Uncategorized Leave a Comment

Maybe it was contagious – the nervousness of Axel, on the road as a consultant after all these years, or the man sitting next to me on the flight from Boston to Atlanta. He was one bundle of nerves, manifested in scratch sores on his bald head, his constant and jerky movements and talking aloud to himself throughout the flight as he wrote a very intense email to someone. I imaged it was an angry email or else something existential.

This is my 179th trip since I joined MSH, or thereabouts. After I had to reconstruct my travels for the INS in order to obtain my American citizenship, in 2005, I kept up, recording every trip since; I am now on line 179 of the Excel spreadsheet.

I used to be very nervous, each trip, as each assignment was a stretch assignment. Now they are not stretches, but interesting nevertheless. The nervousness was caught and now I try to get rid of it by having a dirty martini, not having found a massage place at Atlanta airport.

After a fitful night sleep, with alarms going off then here then there, and weird dreams, we woke up to a morning that was busy with getting ready – I have my routines but Axel doesn’t so he had to invent his. I tried to be helpful but much of the pre-travel jitters are psychic of course and no one can help.

This morning we wished Z. happy birthday in snowy Kabul, over Skype, Jo was also in on the call, from faraway, and probably just as cold, Canada. It is strange to see Z. without her scarf – I do notice that on Skype calls the girls are not covered, F. wasn’t either when we talked with her from Maine in December. While teaching them in Kabul I never ever saw them without their scarves.

And now I am getting psychologically ready for the 15 hour flight to Jo’burg. I am well equipped with sleeping pills, a fluffy neck pillow, an economy comfort seat and two awesome books: Laurie Garrett’s hefty tome about the collapse of global public health (Betrayal of Trust) about ebola, plaque and such and the inability of most governments to deal with those disasters. I am also (re-)reading Eric Berne’s seminal work on transactional analysis (Games People Play) – one of the more practical books about communication.

Axel should by now also be someplace over the Atlantic, heading to Abuja. Hopefully we can reconnect on Skype when we both settle into our hotel rooms tomorrow night – on the same continent and in contiguous time zones.

Flying around

Published February 11, 2012 Uncategorized Leave a Comment

Axel’s trip to Nigeria is now all arranged. We had hoped he could travel via Amsterdam and stock up on cheese and licorice on the way back but instead he will fly via Frankfurt. Sausage is not allowed into the US, unfortunately.

Between re-financing our mortgage, rotator cuff physical therapy and trip preparations we have hardly seen each other all day. This time two suitcases are open on our bedroom floor, a strange sight.

It is more complicated when both of us our out at the same time. This calls for much more planning, especially on Axel’s part who is the usual caretaker.

We had dinner last night at Woody’s, a delicious wild salmon and Californian spinach that was a cross between spinach and arugula. During the cocktail hour I sat hunched over by the woodstove and eating too much cheese.

It had been another one of these very long days and I was suddenly looking forward to be in a plane for 15 hours – imagine that!

Afghan out

Published February 9, 2012 Uncategorized Leave a Comment

The days just before a trip out, especially a month long trip that includes assignments in three different countries, is like white water rafting, the exciting part of it. I do remember the still eddies on the side but they now are nowhere to be found. I make long days, leaving the house at 5:30 and returning more than 12 hours later. This will continue for a while.

We can now both be found at MSH – Axel talking with the Nigeria folks and I with the South Africa folks – we are both excited about our assignments that are complex and challenging – we like it that way.

Last night Sita took us out to an Afghan restaurant in Cambridge. It was one of her many Christmas presents. She was in Cambridge to work with Harvard on a design for some event that needs her expertise – not just her scribing expertise but also her increasingly deep knowledge of how groups can best come to good and joint decisions that are intended to make the world a better place. After all these years it looks like her and my mission in life are closing in on each other.

This was the first time we ate in an Afghan restaurant that was not in Afghanistan. We now know all the dishes and could compare them to those we had often, either in the MSH office kitchen or in our own guesthouse kitchen. We also noticed how the dishes were Americanized and concluded that this was not an improvement. For one the servings were much too large and so we returned with a doggie bag that was sufficient to provide several meals in the coming days.

The other part of Americanization was of course the wall covered with wine racks and the hard liquoir cabinet. One does what one has to do. We ordered a beer, mom and dad only, as Sita is a very disciplined expectant mom who doesn’t drink any alcohol and stays away from runny cheeses. We are very proud of her.

Piles

Published February 7, 2012 Uncategorized Leave a Comment
Tags: Easthampton

I am playing scrabble on several fronts: via my smart phone with my sister, one game after another, all of which she wins by a huge margin, in any language except Spanish; I also play with my my friend Andrew whose attendance is spotty, and who is not as good as my sister so I may actually win; and then Sita and I each started a game with the other at the same time, making for a tandem game that discloses how late Sita goes to bed.

And then we played real old-fashioned board scrabble – although it wasn’t total traditional as we were all armed with our smart phone app of the Merriam Webster dictionary to make sure the word was OK – that was our convention – which prevented much haggling and horse trading during the game. My sisters’ difficult games are paying off as I am much better versed in the allowable 2 and 3 letter words.

In between scrabble games Sita took us on a hike. With my painful shoulder and ankle I requested a level walk on more or less even terrain. But soon I found myself pulling at twigs and branches as I worked the steep path up the 1000+ ft rock formation that splits Easthampton and beyond from the Connecticut River and the rest of the world. Sita told us it is called the Tofu curtain, setting the five college towns apart from the blue collar world of Holyoke, Springfield and other non tofu towns.

We left western Mass too late for Axel to be seated with beer in hand at the opening of the Super Bowl. He dropped me off – I have no interest in football – and hurried off to the excitement at the house of one of Sita’s inlaw pairs (she has two).

I stayed home, by the fire, watching endless repeats of Downton abbey, after a documentary of British royal weddings – all variations on a theme with enormous ‘piles of bricks’ dominating the scenery at every twist and turn. It’s the ideal setup for finishing knitting projects: two done, countless more to go. Axel returned disappointed with a bag full of leftover Super Bowl food which served us well for a late evening snack and lunch.

Paper luck

Published February 5, 2012 Uncategorized Leave a Comment

I am sitting in the orange room with its Chinese brocade curtains, next to the lime green room with its thousands of instruments, which is next to the pink-walled dining room which is next to the mustard green hallway and the turquoise kitchen. Oh and we slept in green-blue room next to the pink bathroom. And we admired the pistachio baby room that is starting to get ready to receive the little tyke a few months hence.

We are at Sita and Jim’s house in Easthampton – a riot of colors, instruments and things that once were part of our households (in Senegal, in New York, in New York, in West Newbury, in Manchester and in Kabul) – a museum of eclectic living one could call it.

After taking a walk with one daughter and our two granddogs in Ravenswood park, we headed west to be with the other daughter, now 6 months pregnant. We are beginning to ease into our new role as grandparents – I already love it.

The end of the week was marked by a series of intense conversations, some that left me deflated and discouraged and other that lifted me up and gave me hope. It is amazing how radically one’s outlook can change through words strung together in conversation – head down after one and head up after the other.

These talks are all related, in one way or another, to our pre-retirement future; a still very long way forward that is entirely uncharted. This stands in sharp contrast to our lives pre-Afghanistan, when the path was rather straight.

After a yummy Japanese dinner with more sushi than was good for us, in busy downtown Northampton, we delivered the paper goods Axel acquired in Japan, cluttering our daughtes’ houses up and uncluttering ours. I also delivered the first of many knitted baby clothes.

The first grade luck ticket Axel got in Japan has done its work already. Axel and I will both be leaving for Africa next Saturday, he via Amsterdam to Abuja and I via Atlanta () to Jo’burg. Axel has been hired by my organization to help one project write its final report. At one point I had considered applying for a job there. Now Axel can check the place out for himself. We did take note of all the security notices about Nigeria – nothing new after Afghanistan, but disturbing nevertheless. Al Quaeda, in one form or another, is everywhere. Killing the boss of a network doesn’t kill the network, nor does it gets at any of the conditions that feed it.

Little lucks

Published February 3, 2012 Uncategorized Leave a Comment

Four days after getting back we are battling colds and I find myself feeling rather low after the high of Japan. This has something to do with the complex arrangements of accepting assignments here and there with always the chance that things emerge at dates different than planned, having to say no when a yes was desired and not being able to fully support this or that colleague. I suppose it is the life of a consultant, but luckily still one with health insurance.

Listening to the news and watching the news on TV didn’t help lift my spirits but one thing did – an interview in Commonwealth, a State of Massachusetts’ magazine, with the state’s youngest elected mayor. He is 6 months out of college, 22 years old, openly gay and filled with great ideas and earnest plans for one of the poorest and sickest towns in the state. If he is able to do what he has in mind one should be buying real estate there now.

The kid has taken advantage of program designed for poor teenagers to make them more politically savvy. It seems they worked. He found and attended these programs with a dogged perseverance and intentionality where the rest of his cohort was probably on facebook. At fifteen he already knew that if you put a group of people together that wants to change something, they can – a paraphrase of Margaret Mead’s famous quote. His interview is good leadership reading that I plan to use.

We deposited the Japanese good luck head at Tessa and Steve, went for a long walk with the dogs and were treated to Steve’s winter soup and some fancy hard cheeses, Christmas gifts. Axel still hasn’t colored in his good luck head but he is keeping his lucky penny and chance tightly in his pocket. We have good hopes. Some of his good luck rubbed off on me when I managed to get the last non-middle economy comfort seat on the 15 hour flight from Atlanta to Jo’burg. Not everyone would call that luck but I do.

Sita is back from Davos and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. She claims to be looking really pregnant now. We can’t wait to see her next week when she has a gig in Boston.

« Previous Page — Next Page »

	Sallie Craig Huber on Rays for real
	Lucy on Probabilities
	Olya on Cuts
	Olya Duzey on The surgeon’s helpers
	svriesendorp on Safe in my cocoon