Sylvia's Journal

Archive Page 65

Reunited

Published February 20, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Cambodia

We finished the week of preparatory interviews so I could understand the lay of the wheelchair land here. The puzzle pieces are falling into place. We have been looking through each individual or organization’s window and then crossed these views with those of others, looking through a different window and findings some sort of rationale behind the different views. As I find over and over again, everyone is right. The task is not to convert but to integrate.

Axel arrived in Phnom Penh after a 6 hour bus ride from the north. He had come in 2^nd in a trivia night and won a glass of garlic infused vodka. His seat mate in the bus offered him a mint.

While he was making his way to PP we completed the intermediate level wheelchair provision training, with final presentations, a distribution of posters and equipment that the trainers are not taking home. This included four electric knives (to cut foam) which all blew their fuses within minutes of use because they came from America and could handle only 110 volts. Being inoperable at the moment did not affect these knives being the most coveted items. We had to do a lottery and then each of us offered one of the four grand prizes to the lucky winners under loud cheers. They say they can fix the knives and make them useful again. I hope.

The official closing was delayed because we were waiting for the excellencies, the name given to senior government officials. After having been told they were on their way, we learned later that they would not come. And so the lead trainer from the Philippines and my colleague M installed themselves as minor excellencies on the dais, a gold stain cloth-covered table with a plastic orchid and lily arrangement on top. It was all very formal with an official program and led by a master of ceremonies, even though it was all ‘entre nous.’

We returned home to the hotel, me to find Axel and have a lemongrass martini with him by the pool, the others to change, before heading for a closing dinner cruise on the rivers intersect here at Phnom Penh.

And now it is weekend and I am preparing for both a relaxing weekend and a preparation for the intense week to come. I am not sure how I am going to do that.

Double duty

Published February 18, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Cambodia

I have completed 3 of the 5 days of preparing for our alignment meeting, plus three evenings for running my ‘night’ jobs as one colleague calls them: being the lead facilitator on a French language virtual leadership course for teams from Ivory Coast, Madagascar, DRC, Senegal and a few other countries, and putting the finishing touches on session designs for the TB-medicines conference that starts on March 1 in Bangkok.

The day job has been relatively light with lots of time spent in tuk-tuks in traffic. I am wearing my mouth mask, as do so many others here, to protect my lungs from the fumes. We interview stakeholders in the provision of wheelchairs. It is one great puzzle to entangle and the notion of a stakeholder meeting is unclear. People are polite. When I ask what they want out of the meeting they say: ‘that you meet your objectives!” I can hear them think ‘dear’ at the end of the sentence. I am sometimes embarrassed to be part of a long line of donor representatives, which I am for all intents and purposes, selling their wares. There was a kind of a stakeholder meeting in December; some attended, some did not; some saw the report, some did not, and no individual or organizational names are attached to the action plan items. Who is responsible I cannot discern. This too was a workshop/meeting organized by externals. These are the only ones that would pay for such a gathering. I would like this meeting to be different, with a focus on energy, passion for the task, collective inspiration and accountability, rather than purely intellectual, focused on producing more plans that don’t make your heart beat faster.

The antidote to cynical thoughts is watching the young kids with cerebral palsy being fitted in their tiny wheelchairs. The ear to ear grins, the sense of liberation that they show brings tears to my eyes. For the first time in their lives, these kids will be able to interact with the world in a seated position. It is hard to imagine what that means: it means better nutrition, better muscle tone, and the learning of social skills. The lives of these kids and their families will never quite be the same, and better for it. Our alignment meeting is to make sure that these kids are followed as they grow, get bigger wheelchairs, get PT. But right now there is no guarantee that this will actually happen. In 6 months they need to be fitted again, but by whom, and where, is the question.

In the meantime Axel is touristing in the north, seeing the Ankor Watt complex, having massages, resting, worrying about snow in Manchester, and eating food that taste good but sometimes upsets the stomach. He will bus down to Phnom Penh on Friday and arrive, hopefully, in time for our dinner cruise on the Mekong to celebrate the end of the level 2 fitting of wheelchair course with the participants.

On Saturday we are taking a break and drive to Kep on the coast for a relaxing 24 hours. After that it is show time.

Endless journey

Published February 15, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Cambodia, Thailand

Even though we escaped ‘the weather’ in Boston, we didn’t entirely escape later. In Japan Delta decided to wait for the very delayed connecting flight from Detroit. As a result we left Narita 3 hours later than scheduled. By the time we approached Bangkok the weather was so bad and the air so choppy that the captain decided to cancel our last meal on the plane.

We arrived tired and hungry at the enormous Suvamabhumi International airport amidst thousands of holiday makers, mostly from China and Japan at 2 AM in the morning. It took us a while to figure out that our hotel, although of the same chain, was not the one at the airport but rather 45 minutes away. The seemingly endless lines at the public taxi stand, with taxis trickling in at a snail’s pace, pushed us to return to the terminal and rent a limo, something we had at first thumbed our noses at because it was three times the cost of a public taxi. The Thai currency is the Baht. Like any other unknown local currency which relates unfavorably to the dollar, it presents itself with intimidating zero’s. In the end our ‘expensive’ limo-taxi ride was less than half the price we paid for the same distance from our home to Logan airport.

By the time we had made up for our missed meal through the hotel’s night menu service, it was 4:30 AM. This was only 3 hours away from our wake up call to return to the airport for the last leg of our journey to Cambodia. Once again, we joined a cast of thousands: pale Japanese and tanned Northern Europeans snaked their way through this and that line to get to their respective planes. As a mantra I kept repeating Mark Twain’s words: if you are patient you can wait much faster.

By the gates we said our goodbyes for the week: Axel boarded the Siem Reap flight and I boarded the Phnom Penh flight. I arrived at the lovely Plantation Hotel, sipped from a fresh coconut while waiting for my room and then fell into a deep sleep from which it took me at least 30 minutes to recover. I had, after all, missed 3 nights.

A little groggy I joined my colleagues for dinner in a shopping mall where all of Phnom Penh seemed to hang out for Sunday fun. There we met one of our counterparts who had been so kind to sacrifice his Sunday evening to give us the lay of the wheelchair land in Cambodia. I had a hard time keeping up with the long list of acronyms and the cast of characters that make up a complex web of interactions, agendas, needs, priorities and habits. It was a French restaurant with a buffet that was essentially French with some light Italian and Cambodian influences.

I had booked a massage, the last slot at 9 PM, to help me resume my sleep without difficulty. Our informant had offered to drop us off at the hotel after our meal. I soon regretted that we had accepted his offer as he had forgotten where he had parked his car in the large mall garage. For about 15 minutes we searched for a car that we would not recognize even if we stood in front of it – with a color shared that is rather ubiquitous here. Although I arrived a little at the hotel I got my full hour of expert massage after which I sank into a long and deep sleep.

Snow: caught and escaped

Published February 14, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Japan

We have been busy with snow for the last week. If we had stayed at home we would have been busy with snow again next week. But we left, and flew right under or ahead of the next storm that is expected to dump another foot of snow in the region. It is a bonus for anyone who rents out heavy equipment and/or removes snow for an interesting fee. For everyone else the snow has not been a good thing.

I don’t mind the snow as long as I don’t have to go anywhere; as long as the snow does not reach dangerous levels for roofs; as long as there are no snow dams; and as long as our elderly neighbor doesn’t require any emergency evacuation. Axel went onto the roof of our porch to remove about 1 meter of snow that obscured a good part of our windows. The house (and the porch) have been around for a century and probably made it through a few snow deposits like this but we didn’t want to take any chances – given our absence for the next few weeks. We also didn’t want to hoist this chore on our house sitters, friends of Tessa.

It was supposed to be a busy week at work, getting ready for facilitating a virtual leadership course in French, with a brief refresher training by a dear and sublimely competent colleague who has now left MSH. We ended up doing the training using webex, with me in my pajamas and not having to commute. That was a good thing. But not meeting with my co-facilitator who flew in from North Carolina for the occasion (and found herself stuck in a hotel due to the closing of our office), and the last two workdays of my colleague was a bummer.

The virtual facilitation and other assignments are placed on top of my current assignments in Cambodia and Thailand. I am conveniently 12 hours ahead which makes for night as well as day work. It is good that Axel is exploring Cambodia while I am busy as I would not be much of a companion during my 16 hour days.

We are now two-thirds on the way to our final destination. We have already clocked 17 hours in the air and have another 7.5 hours to go. None of the requested upgrades materialized. Each time we boarded I saw my name on the upgrade list in position number 1. And each time, by the time I made it to that position all the B-class seats were occupied. I ended up in a middle seat for the longest flight – but at least one of my neighbors was Axel.

But eventually all things pass, even 13.5 hour flights. And the good thing is that my frequent flyer status allows for access for me and a guest to the well-appointed Delta lounges during our waiting times on the ground.

Snow: chores and play

Published February 5, 2015 Uncategorized Leave a Comment
Tags: New Hampshire

On February 3 we held a brief remembrance ceremony in both our Boston and Arlington office for our three young colleagues who perished in a plane crash in Afghanistan 10 years ago. People no longer on our staff came to pay their respects and we told stories. I read a brief letter from M in Afghanistan who benefitted from the scholarship fund that was set up by the family members of these three women. I remember the day well, working out at the gym and suddenly seeing the faces of my colleagues and the name of my organization on the TV screen.

The rest of the day flew by as I was busy finishing the paperwork of the trip I just finished and prepped for the one that will start next week. Having gotten up at 4 AM, shoveled the car out of the snow banks and gotten to work early, I was pooped around noontime and went home.

The next day I had scheduled to renew my Dutch passport. I made the appointment month ago knowing that on February 4-6 I was going to take Axel to an Inn in the White Mountains, a Christmas present. It seemed a good idea to go to Boston in the morning, get the right passport picture that only one photographer in Boston can do, complete the paperwork and, and then head out to New Hampshire.

Between the snow banks, the T-system functioning at half power, parking problems and the victory parade of the Patriots I couldn’t have picked a worse day to get into Boston. It took us 2 hours to get from Manchester to the photo place which happened to be on the victory parade route. Axel had dropped me off as traffic wasn’t allowed through anymore. I walked through puddles of melted snow, first to the photo studio and then the consulate, my boots no longer keeping the water out. At the consulate, the creation of a new passport was even more complicated than before as the new passport technology uses precise biometric information.

By noontime we were done and headed out to our Christmas present and celebrated two days of pampering at the Inn at Thorn Hill in Jackson (NH): knitting by the fire, a lovely dinner, falling asleep in the Jacuzzi and then early to bed, to get ready for a day of playing in the snow, which is so much better than having to get things done in the snow.

Home-coming

Published February 2, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Holland

I keep forgetting that on Sundays the Dutch railway system doesn’t quite work as advertised. The schedule my brother had laid out for me included trains that never ride on Sundays and trains that usually do but not on February 1. Eventually I made it to Soest, a small town in the center of Holland close to where the royals have their palaces. Having left Holland so long ago I don’t have the associations others here seem to have. Soest appears to have a reputation of being a sleepy town for retired people. It is true that behind my brother’s house there is an apartment building for people who are 55 and over. For his kids and their generation this means old; for us it is nothing.

We walked the town from west to east and from north to south – it is stretched out with enormous fields in the center, a windmill, grazing sheep, Iceland ponies…all very rural and a far cry from his former city house in The Hague. When I woke up the next days he said, “Isn’t it quiet here?” May be that’s the thing about old people. Then quietness is nothing new for a citizen of Manchester by the Sea.

We had another family reunion, only missing one of the siblings and so this is how I keep the family together; my transit through Holland always becomes a reunion.

When I checked in at the KLM desk at Schiphol I asked about the Boston snowstorm Axel had warned me about but there was no news other than the plane was taking off as scheduled. It is hard to imagine a snowstorm when the skies are blue.

Three and a half hour out of Boston the captain told us the ‘fasten your seatbelt’ signs would remain on for the rest of the flight. He gave a 20 minute warning which made for long lines for the toilets. We flew in total whiteness the rest of the flight and were warned that if we couldn’t land in Boston we would go to Philadelphia. Everyone clapped when the plane had landed and stopped. It was the braking that was a bit iffy given that the entire airport was covered in snow and the visibility was probably no more than 30 feet, if that.

The ride home continued under a total white-out condition and when we got home Axel had to shovel a path between meter high walls of snow to our front door. It was the most challenging home coming ever.

Ups and downs

Published January 31, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Ethiopia, Kenya

Before heading to the airport I had a most inspiring coffee chat with an Ethiopian (woman) friend I worked with 7 years ago. At the time she worked with a government institution mandated to train senior government officials. What we proposed somehow unnerved them as it was out of the ordinary. We had hoped we could partner but they didn’t bite. The meeting with them was mostly memorable because of the excellent macchiato they served during our meeting; imagine that, at a government agency. But then again, this was Ethiopia.

My friend is busy teaching life skills to young Ethiopians and empowering women of any age. I learned about the Digital Opportunities Trust, a social enterprise that focuses on young people all over Africa. Her stories were both inspiring and sobering. She has moved away from senior leadership training because of the unwillingness of those at the top to examine their own behavior. This sounded familiar.

And as if to emphasize this point I learned that Robert Mugabe was elected to be the new Chairman of the African Union. My friend and colleague PT in Lesotho wrote in response to this news, “[I] am so disappointed. Something is terribly wrong with African leaders, their decisions and choices. Unfortunately no one will save us but ourselves. They know he will promote and protect corruption, and promote culture of impunity. It will take ages for Africa to be emancipated politically and economically. The continent is desperately in need of fresh ideas in order to progress at a desired pace.”

Further illustrations of the big egos and bellies of African officialdom accompanied me on the plane from Addis to Nairobi (in front of course). They kept their AU delegate badges around their necks even though the conference is over. I looked at their big bellies and watched the young female handler – carrying the boss’ hand luggage which was a large carry-on which she carefully repacked with the many boxes of tax free whiskies, champagnes and Dunhill cigarettes. They were treated to a special van and a security person who took them to the transit lounge. Once there they had to mix with the likes me.

Symptoms and roots

Published January 31, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Ethiopia

At breakfast this morning I watched how hotel clients puzzled over the three large hot liquid dispensers that were not labeled. We all knew there was one with hot water, one with hot coffee and one with hot milk. But they were not labeled. One risked completing the tea with coffee or the coffee with hot water or the hot water with milk. It was a bit like those shows where you have to pick a door that hides a prize, two you don’t want and one you do want.

One gentleman stood there for a long time, looking for a staff member to help him with his choice but none was in sight. He was clearly not one of the trial-by-error types.

Eventually he spotted one of the wait staff. Recognizing the helplessness of the customer, and without exchanging a word, she resolutely put his cup under the right spout and he walked away relieved. She had solved the problem but it will recur again and again. I was surprised that it didn’t occur to her to put labels near each of the containers – I knew they had them as they were there yesterday. But clearly someone had forgotten to put the labels and this was obviously not her job.

It was such a perfect illustration of a phenomenon I observe over and over in the places I work. There is something missing in their customer service training and that is root cause thinking, something we include in all our programs so that root causes rather than symptoms are dealt with and some of these easy-to-solve problems don’t keep recurring.

French-french

Published January 31, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Ethiopia

We have arrived at the end of my three assignments, the last completed yesterday and celebrated at a cupcakes place in Addis with spicy chicken sandwiches and macchiato. The participants in our senior leadership program, conducted jointly with Yale University’s School of Public Health, have quickly become our new French and Swiss ICRC friends. Two we met last November when I was in Addis as well. They manage ICRC’s assistance to rehabilitation programs in Madagascar, Niger, Tchad, the DRC and Burundi.

On Thursday morning they presented the current landscape of physical rehabilitation in their respective countries. All of them are pretty bleak, with Tchad and Niger at the top of the list. These managers are not shying away from difficult places and most have lived a good part of their professional lives in hardship posts: Iraq, Pakistan, North Korea, Somalia, Afghanistan, etc. They are after all the kind of clinicians and technicians that help civilians who have stepped on mines or are otherwise physically injured in such places of conflict. It is a remarkable group of professionals who care deeply about the people who have become or were born disabled yet work in places where such people are shunned, put away and generally neglected. And if there are any services at all, these are poorly staffed, poorly equipped or entirely non-functioning. Their tolerance for frustration is tested every day.

For two days we sat around a table and talked about the senior leadership program we are about to embark on over the next 11 months. We will meet again in April when they return with a team of, hopefully influential or motivated, peopl, feom their countries to advance the agenda and implementation of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of persons with disabilities (UNCRPD).

Although all are English speakers and some of the sessions were done in English, their default language is French. And not African French, which is what I have been exposed to for the last 30+ years but French French, spoken rapidly and with all the wonderful gestures and facial expressions that the French use when they speak. When we next meet the language will be French only, the singsongy French from Madagascar, the staccato-ed French from West African and Congolese French. It will be a French linguistic feast.

Addis

Published January 27, 2015 On the road Leave a Comment
Tags: Ethiopia

The driver who took me to the airport early in the morning has a son who is a 3^rd year neuro sciences student at Harvard. The aspiring neuro-scientist has a younger brother who is also trying to get a free ride at Harvard. My driver wants to go to the graduation in 2016 but for that he claimed a miracle would have to occur. Going to Boston at graduation time is a little out of his league, money wise. He is praying hard. It must work here as I assumed he also prayed for a Harvard scholarship, but his son’s talents must have been a factor as well, a God-given talent no doubt.

He told me his son was invited to spend Christmas in California with his ticket paid, both ways, he added, by a woman who turned out to be a friend of mine. Small world!

I was once again at the airport with plenty of time to spare. As a result I was able to enjoy the brand-new Kenya Airways lounge (the Pride Lounge) for hours. Having left too early from the hotel to partake in its breakfast, the lounge made up for this serving a full breakfast: eggs Florentine, cappuccino, a fruit platter and freshly squeezed juice.

I arrived in the middle of the day at an empty airport; a quiet time before the arrival of 100s of diplomats to attend what is the African equivalent of the UN General Assembly this week. Traffic is already tied up but with VIPs moving around the capital it will be even more so. The road out of the airport was already closed and we had to find side roads to get to the hotel.

I procured myself a simcard which means I can connect with friends and colleagues a little easier to use the little time I have here to get together. That started last night when former and current MSH colleagues, most of them having lived in Afghanistan, met for dinner and caught up. As usual, the conversation turned to flying, frequent flyer schemes, upgrades (or rather non-upgrades) and close calls. After all that is the one things we in common.

I was slated to have yet another call in the evening but the internet was too fickle to sustain a connection even though half an hour earlier Axel managed to show me on Skype what the snow accumulation looked like.

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