Archive Page 52

Dance while everyone is watching

The second part of my Dutch program was a dance performance in which my big brother had an important role. He is more of an improv dancer but this was the real stuff, with choreographers who made him adhere to strict routines, until he wasn’t. Sometimes that was a good thing and his spontaneous addition was incorporated into the program, making it better or funnier, but sometimes he was told to try harder. All the dancers were over 55 years and the show was about aging – memories, loss and love. The oldest dancer was 80. It was a remarkable performance, receiving a standing ovation, especially from those in the same age bracket.

I was exceedingly proud seeing my brother dance and move across the stage with such energy and suppleness. At this same age, some 30 years ago, my father had entered a nursing home, recovering from a second stroke, his life about over.

It makes me ponder the lifestyle choices we made and make. I see many of us boomers – I am just on the tail end – realizing that the carelessness with which we treated our bodies some 40 years ago was irresponsible if not outright stupid. For some it is now too late. The lucky ones are looking for redemption in yoga, exercise, dance, personal trainers, diet changes, and abandoning all that’s addictive; and if they are not, they probably ought to.

The after party was a (mostly) family affair with two of my brothers plus wives, my nephew and his wife and my friend A. We had a wonderful dinner in a small Italian restaurant. It was one of the happier moments of this most recent trip, and doubly worth all the hard work in Rwanda and the long plane trips.

Creating

Three snow and ice storms later (I landed once again in a snowstorm, my second snowstorm landing in Boston this year), I had to get used again to getting up in the cold and dark. This time I suffered jetlag for an entire week, going to bed at 7:30PM and getting up at 4AM. It helps to beat the traffic but it makes for poor company at home after hours.

The next trip is already booked, to Geneva at the end of the month, but until then I enjoy being at home, even with ice and snow. This included a long weekend with the grandkids.

The big event after my return was the publication of a booklet I have worked on, and believed in, since I first visualized it more than a year ago: an ABC for Managers Who Lead. It was hard to enlist others into this vision, especially those with money to fund this. Eventually we, that is myself and Marnina, a young colleague who was as passionate about the booklet, and an ace organizer to boot, got what we needed to cover the design and printing. The booklet is stacked in boxes in our offices in Medford and Arlington. We are distributing it widely. It is both a reminder to all of us ‘managers who lead’ about the various aspects of these functions and also a small gift to put in our counterparts’ hands, reminding them that this is one of our corporate strengths. The responses so far have been encouraging.

The process by which the booklet was created was maybe the most exciting. We enlisted some 18 colleagues through a kind of crowdfunding arrangement to contribute to the content: people proposed verbs for each of the letters of the alphabet, we balanced verbs that are about managing with those about leading and then had people vote, all using Google’s platform. After that we proposed content categories: a definition, a quote, questions for reflection and an application in one of our field projects. We also asked for videos to illustrate the verb. Individuals selected verbs to write about, we reviewed each other’s work, tried to ‘sell’ the concept to people who have authority over budgets and revised content as needed.

This has been the most creative work I have done and I realize, once again, that this is the kind of work I love to do. The fallow weeks between travels are now dedicated to reviewing things that others wrote – it covers my time, a good thing –  but the thing I still like most is writing new stuff or new perspectives on old stuff.

Nostalgia

All of yesterday I walked down memory lane. I arrived in Amsterdam around 6 AM after a long trip that started at 1PM in Gisenyi, a three hour ride up, down and around a thousand hills to Kigali, a long wait at the airport, a 35 minute flight to Entebbe, an hour refueling wait and then the long run to Holland. With about 4 hours of sleep I entered the cold and clammy air of the polder where Schiphol is located in a bit of a daze. It’s home and not home anymore.

S. picked me up, and brought me to her lovely house, that, although right under coming and going planes, looks our over a large lake. I had a real breakfast, real coffee and outlets to recharge all my batteries. At the end of the morning I took the train to Leiden to meet with some of the women with whom I started my studies in Leiden in 1970. It was a slightly delayed reunion after 45 years. My trip to Rwanda has made my participation possible.

The experience of walking from the station (entirely unrecognizable) to the (still unchanged) center of the city is hard to describe. There was the restaurant where I last saw my first husband, some 6 or 7 years ago; both he and the restaurant are gone. The roads that crossed here are gone, both literally and figuratively.

There were dreams and plans and hopes and then everything slipped away, making room for new dreams and plans and hopes, some realized, some abandoned, some adjusted to new realities. For me this meant: a different husband, a different country/continent and language, a different profession and a different application of what I studied here. At one point this was a place where I had expected to live forever – how different everything turned out.

I am used to being a tourist at home, or rather at old my homes, and so this was no different. I ducked into my leather coat to handle the cold, noticing how no one wore gloves and many were lightly clad, as if it was a cool fall day. I have lost my ability to deal with the bone chilling cold that is not about low temperature but about wind and clamminess. I take New England snow storms over this anytime.

We met up with a few for lunch in a lovely restaurant; more coffee but also yummy Dutch fare like a ‘broodje met kaas’ (brown bread with cheese) and ‘karnemelk’ (kind of like buttermilk). Afterwards we strolled to the old and ugly building of what used to be the male students’ society clubhouse with which we were merged in 1971. For that we had to leave our elegant old mansion on Leiden’s main canal, a shift that many never accepted.

When we entered the building, made of concrete slabs and enormous wooden beams, it smelled of stale beer, just like all these years ago when we first entered, shy and uncomfortable. The building itself, its large halls and committee rooms are made to withstand large crowds of beer drenched and rowdy twenty-somethings and lots of testosterone. Its indestructibility also makes it the biggest eyesore in the city that stands in sharp contrast to our most elegant women’s clubhouse that still sits so prince(sse)ly on the canal, no longer ours.

With abandon

The reunion program was wonderful – time for catching up with each other, checking out how all of us are aging (some beautifully and some not so – an outsider might not have guessed we were all in the 64-66 age bracket). I learned about another friend who is dying from cancer at the young age of 66 – the third from my circle of friends in less than a year.

His wife was there and gave me a glimpse of this strange land of being with someone you love who is dying; I can’t even begin to imagine this waiting for the moment of parting: one going to sleep forever and the other figuring out how to be single again. In America people around us are dying of old age or heart attacks – but here it seems to be cancer. Holland is among the 10 countries with the highest rates of cancer in the world (Denmark is first). Experts and activists are debating whether this is simply a question of better diagnostics, life style (smoking and drinking) or stuff that gets added to make the food we eat (dairy and meat products in particular) more profitable. It’s sad, either way with people dying when life should be at its best – with worries about money, children and careers no longer weighing us down.

A voice/singing coach led us through a magnificent singing workshop that made me want to take him back to Boston and help us sing together at MSH and get some joy back at work. It is amazing what singing together does for your spirit. Of course my singing with total abandon didn’t help my vocal cords which are still recovering from two bouts of laryngitis.

Ownership

We are nearing the end of the retreat and doubled in size. Social workers and psychologists have streamed in from all corners of Rwanda. The hotel has set up a tent on the lawn to accommodate us. This is a challenge as there are no more walls. The hotel staff has populated the tent with an odd assortment of tables and plastic chairs.

The tent comes as a surprise. With the tables removed in the conference room we had used so far we could have accommodated everyone inside, but it was too late – the tent is up and paid for. Now there is even less comfort with English and so we keep on snipping away parts of the ambitious agenda.

In the meantime the per diem issue has been resolved to everyone’s satisfaction. Also, the excitement of turning from renters into owners is beginning to insert a new energy in the room/tent. The participants are now mobilizing themselves (as measured by the number of people in the room at each day’s starting time).

There is another sign that the ownership we want is materializing. The participants of the core group, the 40+ people who we started with on Tuuesday, are now the new guides, explaining the 50 newcomers what we have done in the last 2 days. It is very exciting to see this happen – the design holds and is working exactly as planned, in spite of all the adjustments. We are now on the sidelines. We can let go. The baton is now in their hands. I am watching people who were at times reluctant or confused participants share the products of our work as if they were car salesmen. You’d think they had owned the design from the get go.

Owning or renting

We left Kigali at daybreak in order to arrive early on the shores of Lake Kivu to set up the room, get our instruction slides in order, dot the ‘i’s’ and cross the ‘t’s’. Official starting time was 2PM

I had put in a lot of padding for the afternoon sessions as I was aware of the many factors we would have no control over. One such a factor was the actual versus planned departure of the participants from Kigali.  Planned for 8AM, the last bus left Kigali around 11:30AM. By the time they arrived everyone was tired and grumpy, even more so when they discovered that their per diem was half of what they expected.

The time buffers around each activity paid off. We ended the day only slightly behind schedule and caught up by the next day.

The language barrier is omnipresent. Although it is true that everyone in HQ or field lead positions can speak English, comprehension by many is more limited. We had to insert quite a bit of translation.

The processes, from historical timeline to mission to vision to contradictions to strategic directions was taxing at times. The inductive processes and our requests to look for patterns and naming them is new to many. Concepts and tasks needed much more explanation, and often translation, than we had expected. In addition, the chief’s English is also limited. Her second language is French, which none of my colleagues speak well enough to use. And so I have parallel conversations in French – there is much that gets lost in translation.

In addition to the language complications (a continuation of what we experienced in Bangkok) there were many taxing moments with client requests, needs and desires a constantly moving target. This too may be related to none of us communicating in our first language. Adjustments, re-budgeting of time, making short cuts and dropping things altogether were the order of the day.

We were aiming for ownership, which is always hard in the beginning. Getting ownership means people go at their own pace and the products of their thinking may not quite be up to the standards one would want. It is the tradeoff between owning and renting someone else’s ideas.

Assumptions

We moved into the Gorillas hotel in Kigali for two nights. Monday was an official holiday. We used it to align expectations around our roles and how to function well as a team. In the afternoon we met with our local colleague who is seconded to the organization, about which I have yet to learn a lot. My MSH colleagues who are here with me have worked with this organization for several years and provided me with some critical contextual information.

We checked several assumptions that are implicit in the retreat design and fine-tuned or micro-designed sessions wherever possible. The design won’t get tested until we take off, always an important moment when we learn about language and other challenges. Until that moment the whole enterprise is theoretical.

Later we discovered many more unverified assumptions as well as a number of miscommunications and misunderstandings which led to some very challenging facilitation acrobatics. One lesson I learned is that if the client says we meet from 8:00 in the morning till 7:30 at night I better challenge this right away. I know such long days are counterproductive but sometimes we give the client the benefit of the doubt. That was a mistake.

Back and forth

Lobster Cove on a cold crisp winter day, with snow on the ground and sunny blue skies is nearly as good as a summer day. Being home is bliss. We enjoyed a day by the fire, reading, catching up and cooking good food.

The wonderful mood was broken by the news from Holland of yet another friend succumbing to cancer; we were together last summer after the funeral of my ex. It makes one wonder, ‘who’s next?’

I took Monday off to catch up on various things pending, such as my renewal of my Global Entry pass, a wonderful arrangement that lets me bypass long lines coming back in the US. Tuesday was a day for various medical appointments. The best news came from the lab: all my numbers had improved, showing that my kicking off the sugar habit was now paying off. The addiction is gone; I can eat a corner of something sweet and leave most of it on the plate; I can have one square of chocolate without wolfing down the entire bar; I can (and did) decline my free birthday pastry from Panera.

I went to work two days, quiet workdays with not a whole lot to do other than preparing for my next trip which starts tonight.

We squeezed in a visit to the grandkids and took Friday off for that purpose. It was not quite a weekend but long enough to do multiple puzzles of Africa and Asia with Faro. He proudly showed me where Madagascar was and could tell me its capital with all its multiple vowels without missing a beat. I told him I was not going to Madagascar but to Rwanda instead, so now he is working on Kigali, a piece of cake after Antananarivo. We gave him the book ‘Africa Adorned’ so he can see who lives in those puzzle pieces he knows so well to place on the map.

And now it is time to get on board again, to Amsterdam where I will meet a colleague, and then onwards to the Gorillas hotel in Kigali.

Solo or team learning

The days are long when you are teaching with a team. Although physically more challenging (no breaks), psychologically it is easier when you are alone. You can do whatever you want when you are the only one running a workshop but is has some drawbacks: you are not helping younger staff to learn the trade and when you get feedback, if any coming your way (less and less so when you get older I notice), it is hard to digest it as you can filter out whatever you don’t want to deal with. Working with others is hard work. There are so many factors at play, and so many decisions to make.

You have to think hard, all the time, before saying something in your team. You have to always consider whether one’s first reaction is a judgment about the other or reveals more about oneself. You have to consider whether you are all on the same page (oops, we forgot to spent some time on teambuilding up front) or pursuing different objectuves. Is there shame involved when not knowing or making mistakes? If you have ever watched Brenee Brown’s TED talks on vulnerability and shame or thought about your own experiences, you know it is a tricky thing. Now drape Asian and Africa cultures over these two and you have a big pickle in your hand.

My objectives in the kinds of workshops I do are to move people in the direction of greater self-awareness, even millimeters is fine. Many organizational and family messes come from people not being aware of how they impact others. This means I have to practice what I preach. Being self-aware is very fatiguing as you can never criticize or judge someone spontaneously. But it is so much more fun to rant about others. So I often come back more tired from a team trip than from a solo one. The good thing of teaming is that I go out more and reduce time working alone in front of a computer and ordering room service.

We went out nearly every night to nearby restaurants. For me this is a hit or miss kind of thing but for my Millenial colleagues finding a place to eat is a project that involves an internet search. They even triangulate, using trip Advisor and other sites to determine if a restaurant is worth going to. The bad places we went to where my unsearched suggestions – the good choices were based on experience, which is still my main source of information.

My DC colleagues delayed their trip home, staying a few more days in Bangkok; being all warm weather creatures this was an easy decision for them. I don’t mind the snow except when you can’t land where you want to go. I left very early on Saturday morning for a three-leg, 9000 miles and 30 hour journey from hotel to home. Thanks to the combined efforts of Logan’s control tower, our Delta pilots and the drivers of enormous snow ploughs we avoided being diverted to Albany at the last minute. I tumbled into a deep sleep at 10:30 PM. It’s good to be home, snow and all.

The sound of the sea

We started the second event today, a holiday in the US (or actually the night before the holiday). The MLK holiday is a fitting start of our work here as it is about giving voice to those excluded. The participants are professionals and managers working in rehab centers in Pakistan, Tajikistan, Madagascar, Vietnam and Cambodia and their ICRC colleagues. Their collective wish is to improve the quality and quantity of services to disabled people. There is also a hope to eventually wean the centers from the financial, material and technical support of ICRC and replacing it with local financing schemes. This requires strong leadership, sound management and good governance.

We have a huge challenge on our hands with at least eight different languages spoken and no common one other than English, a very poor English in some cases. Each country has at least one fairly fluent English speaker and so we count on them to translate and explain back the concepts that are often not all that translatable.

We do have all the support documents available in Vietnamese, Cambodian, Urdu, French, and Russian which I think it pretty amazing. The logistics of it all are very complicated and we are trying to manage. But of course everything takes longer and we often don’t know if everyone is on board. So far participation in plenary sessions is not what I am used to with only the confident or native English speakers chiming in. The concepts we are introducing are new to many, then throw the language inhibitions into the mix and you get a lot of blank stares.

On Sunday we gave the ICRC facilitators a preview of the week to help them start a few paces ahead of their country teams. In the evening we had a planning meeting at the frantic Asiatique Riverfront eating mediocre (mass produced) Thai food. The stimulation of the senses was beyond what I could stand, all the way back to the hotel. City life is OK for a couple of weeks but I am getting ready to exit this megalopolis.

When I woke up this morning at 4 AM there was only the sound of birds in the hotel’s lush garden. Except for the occasional early morning motor biker or car I was reminded there is such a thing as nature. When one participant from Vietnam explained that his name meant ‘sound of the sea’ I was reminded of my home on Lobster Cove where the sound of the sea is a constant. The things we take for granted!


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