Sylvia's Journal

At the breakfast buffet you get a glimpse of the kind of people who stay here. It is not as diverse and fancy as at the Meridien in Dubai (and about one-sixth of the cost) but it does serve a variety of tastes: the Philippinos who like to put a pat of butter on their cold steamed mussels on the half shell, the Dutch who like chocolate sprinkles on their bread, and me, who likes whipped cream any time of the day. There’s stuff for the lean breakfasters (fruit and yogurt and muesli) and the heavy-on-protein breakfasters who scoop their plates full of eggs, sausage, bacon and home fries.

I have filled an entire notebook since I landed a little over two weeks ago, and went through my one and only mechanical pencil – both critical tools of my trade. The driver-cum- receptionist took me to the stationary store that reminded me of such stores in my childhood – only the dusters were missing on the staff behind the glass counters.

I now also have a Lesotho cell phone number so people don’t have to call South Africa every time they want to talk with me. I am told this will also allow me to use the wifi in the hotel on my phone – a move the South Africa phone company has blocked, presumably to avoid any chance of losing income.

I had my first interview with the next level down from the two senior people we already talked with. The lady is herself a team-builder and management and leadership facilitator which made for a wonderful conversation as we spoke the same language. It is nice to hear how a team-building exercise in her former employ in South Africa changed the way people interacted. Not surprising she is excited about the idea and effort to bring people together.

Sometimes team-building gets a bad rap – probably deserved as I have sat myself through some terrible team-building sessions that make me shudder when I think about them. It is an unlicensed profession, team-builder, and not every team-builder heeds the ‘Do Not Harm’ principle. But it can also be the beginning of a turn around a corner. If there will be some sort of a team-building exercise next week (a miracle if it can be pulled off on such a short notice, before the chief departs for two weeks), I hope people will later talk about it as a ‘corner-turning’ event.

My capacity building advisor colleague is busy trying to set up visits to at least one district but this turns out to be a bit more complicated. There is some district activity focused on ‘validating’ a new policy that is taking everyone’s time and attention.

In the meantime I am trying to set up a time with a Peace Corps Volunteer – the son of my friend Martha – who lives far away from the capital. He will get on a van that leaves at some ungodly hour to come and see a friend of his mom – amazing. I better treat him to a really fancy lunch. It’s a kind of Giving Forward, as I remember fondly dinners way beyond my pocket book that were offered to me by my parents’ friends. I have till Saturday to finish the biography of the country’s revered leader, so I can give it to him for the long trip back.

Axel called me at a time that most of the East coast is still asleep – jetlagged and lonely in the house without me and the prospect of another 26 days or so. I kept the conversation short because I am under deadline pressure to produce the rudiments of a very customized executive leadership development program to the PS tomorrow. I have tinkered together a self-assessment from official MSH assessments and my many years working with senior public sector officials. I need some point of departure for the design and content of this very unique program. It is being tested by some of my colleagues at this very moment.

The MSH Lesotho office is the only MSH office I know of that color-coordinated its interior with the MSH brand colors (two types of green and orange). These folks know about congruence!

We visited the director of the department we have been asked to assist. She and I have a thing or two in common: we are both veterans with the agency we currently work for and we are both from related professional fields: social work and family therapy. On top of that she was dressed in our (Dutch) national color: orange (I was not).

My colleague took me along to the weekly Rotary Club lunch where I found myself in the company of an interesting group of people, including the US ambassador, a representiative from Kick4Live, a youth empowerment group that uses sports as the medium for growth and a variety of nationalities, private and public sector folks from all over (southern) Africa and beyond. I talked about my dad who was a devoted Rotarian, my friend DJ in Rockport, Razia jan in Kabul. It’s a powerful network that has spread itself into every nook and cranny of the world.

We met with a UNICEF consultant who is like an executive coach for the most senior manager. We talked about alignment of our work, much like last week we aligned ourselves in Namibia with another agency that works on management and leadership strengthening. It is refreshing to see this kind of cooperation and collaboration here. It isn’t always like that.

The assignments for my two weeks here are slowly beginning to develop an outline – one is about developing an executive leadership development program for the permanent secretary, the other requires a trip to at least two districts, to follow up on work done some 9 months ago on leadership develop. I am like the midwife coming to see whether the baby has arrived…and if not, to do some gentle massages.

One of my colleagues is actually about to have a baby, or rather his wife has. The baby is due any time but they hope it is not tomorrow, on February 29. It does tend to complicate the birthday celebration.

While I was learning and we were exploring the work to be done a parliamentary crisis was happening outside. I was glad this is a peaceful place because things like political parties breaking in two, transforming the governing party into the opposition just like that, could be nerve wrecking and a call to militant action in many other places I know.

While we were having an after-action pint of draught we watched red-clad women chanting and shouting on their way to some political gathering. I was happy to spot few young men in the crowd and no guns. The complication of the break-up is that the name of the new party has the same words as the old party, just re-arranged in a different order, and the same party color (red) – even the new party’s platform is the same I was told. While we finished our glasses cars with blue blinking lights went this way and that, all with high level politicians in it on their way to sort out the mess.

It was 7 years ago I was here last, and 21 years ago I was here first, with Michael, then HR chief at MSH. I don’t think Michael knew what an important mentoring role he played in my life. I was never able to thank him and he died much too young. He was a tormented soul but at the time I didn’t know that and eagerly listened to his wise words. I still have his handwritten notes which he left me to ponder, Michael’s Maxims – a piece of paper I treasure and have used ever since. There were ten maxims in all, “don’t swim upstream” has been one of the most used in my 25 years at MSH.

On the way from Maseru airport to town we drove in back of a small passenger bus that had hand-lettered on its rear window: Taliban II. I saw other buses with words like ‘Terminator,’ you see these all over Africa, but Taliban II was new. What’s up with these Basotho? The sequel to Taliban I cannot be good. And yet this must be the most peaceful place on earth.

Someone in the plane was talking about the good old days but I happen to know that in this place the good old days were pretty bad. I am reading a biography of Moshoeshoe, the founder of the Basotho. It was the time of the difaqane wars which were tribal wars aiming at nothing less than total annihilation of each other, transforming thousands of survivors into cannibals, sometimes wearing aprons and loins cloths made from human skins, reeking of putrefied human flesh, according to the author of the book (Peter Becker – Hill of Destiny). To my surprise one of the fearsome warriors was a woman and she was just as cruel as everyone else – there goes that theory.

I left very early this morning from my lovely guesthouse in a leafy and high-gated suburb of Pretoria, where the only pedestrians are the household staff of the owners of the fancy houses. It’s beautiful and yet, the high gates, eletric fences and countless advertisements for security firms, tell a different story: of inequities, wins and losses and much fear.

The flight from Jo’burg to Maseru is only 45 minutes, which turned out to be a very small part of the journey. Most of the time was spent waiting: for the bus to the plane, for the plane, for immigration in Lesotho and for a room that wasn’t ready. It wasn’t until 2 PM that I was ready to start work and meet my colleagues and counterparts.

I was shown around the MSH/Lesotho office and met colleagues from two different projects. Because I had the drug management unit in my portfolio in Afghanistan I can now converse easily with my druggie colleagues about pharmaceutical management. I know their language now.

We went to visit the Permanent Secretary who is one of my clients this week; an energetic lady who brings much management experience from the private (nonprofit) sector to the job and has big plans. She wants us to help her improve her leadership skills so that she can leave the legacy she has in mind, only three years away when her appointment ends.

She shared the legacy with us and we told her we are entirely at her service. How we can assist her is part of what I am supposed to find out. She has made time available for us. This feels very luxurious – usually a short courtesy call is all I can get with people at this level. It says something about commitment. But, she admitted, it is also an election year and so her time is not entirely her own. We will be grateful for whatever we get.

The hotel is part of a casino complex with slot machines and ‘tables.’ All this is right next to the restaurant – noisy, and tense with the hopes of wins and the expectations of losses. It is of no interest to me, luckily. I can think of better ways to spend money.

There are many Chinese here, filling about a quarter of the plane from Pretoria and then lots of them in the hotel. They have small stores along the roads, selling stuff cheaper than anyone else – it’s the same story everywhere in Africa. The small folks hacking away at the bottom and the big guys (having meals with government officials in our Namibian hotel) buying up the ground that Africa sits on without people seeming to notice that one day Africa, and everything below its surface, won’t belong to Africa anymore.