Sylvia's Journal

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I drove to the last day of my last assignment trying out a different route. I am getting quite comfortable driving with a stick shift on the wrong side of the road. I do still occasionally activate the windshield wipers when I want to indicate that I am turning left or right but I am mostly getting it right. Except for my backing out of the apartment’s parking lot – Jabu, who looks after the place was gesticulating frantically but the scrape with a brick wall had already left its mark on the red lacquer of my rental. It is one of the few ugly marks on an otherwise unblemished 6 weeks in Southern Africa.

And so I am basking in that feeling of having completed all assignments to the client’s satisfaction. The (re)treat is over – two intense days of learning and talking about things that are important for a team. In a way there was too much to absorb – the awareness of styles and how we would like to be approached when we get irritated about people not acting we would like them to act. It was a lot to absorb and will need a lot of reminding, supporting, and some gentle confronting.

The team made a commitment that it is up to the task and headed out into the weekend. But not before a bottle of champagne was popped open and there was much thanking and toasting and clinking of filled champagne glasses. At every twist and turn one is reminded of being in a wine-producing country.

I returned home exhausted, unpacked my facilitator bags and collapsed in front of the TV watching a famous South African soap opera, an episode with much sadness. From the previews I could tell that the next episode will star another emotion, anger.

I went out for dinner with two colleagues who had been in the (re)treat. We agreed we would not talk about the retreat, let is simmer for a bit.  We talked about the joy of flying in small planes, a hobby we shared, and that is popular in South Africa. I realized I haven’t flown since last November when Bill’s plane went into the shop for a makeover.

Today’s program consists of a talk with the chief about future work here, a half hour of ‘flotation therapy’ at the Soulstice Spa, followed by an hour massage, and finished off with a shushi dinner with friends.  Life’s good.

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I spent all of Human Rights Day, a holiday here, preparing for my last assignment, a teambuilding with the senior staff of one of our regional projects that is based here in South Africa. It is the crowning moment of 6 weeks of learning about the team, and doing a few other things on the side.

In the evening I was invited to a couple that likes to cook – and has a kitchen a whole lot more equipped than the one in my apartment. We were four of us, four different cultures: South African Indian, expat Indian, American and me Dutch American. I made for a wonderful meal and conversations that richoted from Romney, American politics, to the Seventh Day Adventists, and life in Durban. The dinner was a reward for a long day of hard work.

Today we had the first of our two days retreat. It was actually a treat rather than a retreat as we were pampered in a palace, hidden away on a small street, between trees and houses. It must at one point have been a large estate with the owners selling of pieces of land until the surrounding land and the building were no longer in the right proportion to each other.

The place is run by a woman of Dutch descent, her father came to South Africa during the second world war – an escape of sorts I imagine. And so we speak Dutch with each other. The staff is busy pampering us with everything we could possibly wish for – dainties for our tea and coffee breaks and for lunch a wonderful spread, including an enormous cold salmon, shrimp, pate, French cheeses, small chunks of lamb on rosemary sprigs and more.

There is a family of ducks that has the run of the place. Loud quacking they traverse the mahogany parquet in the central hall to get to their bath in the courtyard. After their bath they traipse back to the garden to resume their search for grubs. Their presence emphasize the lining up of ducks that the team has to do.

Today we were in the Louis XV (or XIV) part of the palace and dreamed about the project’s legacy after which we descended down to earth to look the team’s current situation straight into the eye – sobering at first. We looked at the gap between espoused theories and theories in use to see it is often wider than we think. We talked about Chris Argyris Model I and Model II – how bad we all want to subscribe to Model II but it is so difficult! Exercises that brought out the competitive element surprised some parts of self that were expected to be more altruistic.

All in all it was a heavy meal, the real meal but also the mental one, new concepts and frames to hold the current reality so that it can be made discussable – the learning of a new language with all the discomforts that come along with learning important things.

Tomorrow we move to the Chinese Imperial suite, a little further down the estate, between the first and the second swimming pool, hidden behind much shrubbery, as if it isn’t there. The walk down to the room feels like a walk into the Secret Garden.

I managed to hit the holiday traffic back on the N1 to Pretoria which meant being stuck in stop and go traffic for some time – I thought my ride back from Jo’burg would be a cinch, as I wouldn’t get lost this time but it took me once again nearly two hours for what should be a 45 minute ride.

I am driving a stick shift car, requiring my left ankle to be very active at an odd angle for the 30 minutes of driving in stop and go first gear traffic; this after two days in a resort where every path was excruciatingly painful to navigate because of the uneven bricks and steep inclines. Luckily I had an ice pack that has been sitting unused in the freezer.

We finished the workshop early; I think this is going to be my signature – about half an hour before the stated ending time. Most people like it except those flying home and having to wait even longer at the airport.

I learned a few things about the very complex (South African) world of pharmaceutical products and services – I thought I knew a little from Afghanistan, but here it is complex in another way – there are so many more stakeholders.

And now I am back in the apartment for the home stretch: one more team building workshop on Thursday and Friday, another massage on Sunday and then a midnight departure to Amsterdam on Monday. It’s time to go home.

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I had looked up the hotel on googlemaps. There were many variations on the name and address of the hotel but there were at least several variables that were the same. I had asked for a picture of my destination and was shown a small roundabout in a very poor neighborhood with a fenced in yard that had some kids clinging to the bars.  I assumed it was a mix up and thought little more.

I programmed my smart phone gps to get me to the hotel, some 45 kms away. I found the freeways easy to navigate and was very pleased with myself. But then I took a wrong turn and got lost. I didn’t master the smartphone gps as well as I should, I realized and ended up asking directions a few times, each more convoluted than the next one. Eventually I started to recognize names of streets and made the required left and right turns, and then, when the phone indicated I had arrived, I was right at that little roundabout in the poor men’s neighborhood – I recognized it right away – it was no swanky hotel and I had been driving all along to this place that someone – a joke? – had given the same name as the resort.

I called the hotel but they didn’t know where I was. I asked a nice gentleman at the petrol station to talk with the hotel on the phone and figure out how lost I was. As it turned out I was entirely on the wrong side of Johannesburg, west instead of east or the other way around, and that I was about 35 kms away from the resort, nearly the distance I started from, hours ago.

The helpful gentleman knew the place and gave me a long list of directions which I frantically scribbled down. I reprogrammed my gps and this time a voice came on which made the trip so much easier than if I had only had the directions from the man at the petrol station. After two hours of driving on countless freeways in all directions I finally arrived, to be further lost even at the entrance and inside the complex, which is rather large.

I checked out the room where we will meet for two days, the Lion Room. It is nicer than I thought. A young waiter helped me set up the flipchart stands and distribute the name tents on the tables. I asked him whether he could help me make the table setting gender-balanced since I couldn’t tell from the names whether they belonged to a man or a woman. As it turned out he couldn’t tell either since he was from Malawi. Like me he could recognize the anglo names, and the one Malawian name (which meant ‘thinking person’) but it could be used for a man or a woman so that was no help.

Since the conference rooms are locked up at 5, and the young man was in no condition to break the rule, I had two hours to spare for dinner. I checked into my own room where I found an enormous fruit and cheese platter waiting for me.  I went on a scouting expedition around the complex. There was much to explore: a pool (an indoor and an outdoor one), a spa with its secluded nude sunbathing section, the children’s medieval castle, the orchid greenhouse, the game room, and the sun roof. from where you have a stunning view of the Magalies hills. Aside from a few employees I didn’t encounter any guests, as if I was the only one here. It must be low season since anything with doors was locked.

Along the meandering path, made from old (unmatched and therefore tricky to walk on) bricks, sculptures from a local artist were placed strategically, in front, behind or next to the countless little pools and waterfalls – I am supposed to imagine myself in a jungle, like Mowgli – and the sculpted animals and water nymphs were everywhere.

Most of the rooms are brick and thatched huts, quaint and rustic and very well appointed to the taste of holiday makers. There are a few imperial suites. These are named after the kings who ordered their warriors to annex, or, if resisted, kill, rape and plunder, the tribes that stood in their way in the early 1800s.  There are also some restaurants though I haven’t found the one we are to have dinner in, one had a large two-room bar. I had wanted to sit down for a pint after my driving ordeal but it was one of those bars with giant TV screens that showed one or another sports game. No matter where you would sit down there was no way to avoid the screens – and given that I was the only person around, I dropped the idea of a pint.

There are more spas per square inch in the suburbs of Pretoria than any other place I know of. Katie took me to the Soulstice spa – a place on the edge of town, where you can take a sauna or steam bath while looking out at farm fields. It was as if I had walked into a copy of Architectural Digest.

After two hours of pampering we had a light lunch, as one should. The masseuses would probably not have approved of the glass of white wine but we felt that the healthy salad compensated for any unwanted toxins.

Next week I am tempted to go into the Amethyst Rasul Chamber. According to the brochure it is based on the traditional Turkish bath and involves exfoliating and cleansing rituals with mud, followed by a tropical rain shower – and you can do it with a friend or partner.  And then there is the flotation treatment, which is described as going back into the womb. One of the masseuses has done it but she said she got bored very quickly. I thought about our grandson to be – he is doing somersaults, out of boredom I wonder?

The days and night of rain are harbingers of winter I was told. Winters here are nothing like winters in Massachusetts but it does get nippy. I learned there is under-floor heating in the apartment; I am checking out the bathroom floor heat tonight, just to enhance the bath taking experience.

I finished my last whole week at the MSH South Africa House. On Sunday I will drive myself in my spiffy red Hyundai to a nice resort outside Johannesburg which, according to the website, is in an old Hindu temple. I will spend the next two days after that facilitating my pharmacist colleagues – the ones who occupy the ground floor in MSH/Pretoria – as they transition from one big project to another. They have started on their fourth in a series of five year projects here in South Africa, from humble beginnings in newly post-Apartheid South Africa in the Eastern Cape. Having had the pharmaceutical team in my portfolio in Afghanistan helps me understand their world a bit better.

My little car is now filled with flipchart stands, papers, and conference packets – the travelling facilitator.

Before driving home in the pouring rain – it has been raining nonstop for 2 days now – I went to see the venue for the teambuilding next week. I had expected some dreary Holiday Inn kind of place but found myself back in time in an enormous old palace with the upper front part like a summer pleasure palace of the Louis XV variety and the lower part a Chinese emperor’s retreat. It was a total fantasy place and perfect for our retreat. But I haven’t made up my mind yet whether we want to do this in French or Chinese empire style…or may be one day each.

I had dinner at A’s place and met his lovely family, 3 delightful kids all in primary school still and his wife. We explored everything from favorite topics at school, what do you want to be when you grow up, who are you most like and some implied lessons about gender, power and next assignments. The parents stuffed my bag with meat pies and milk stout for the long and lonely weekend in my apartment.

Of course I won’t be lonely and it won’t be long. First on the program tomorrow is a long overdue haircut, then a massage and then a pedicure. The haircut was arranged by the office – I don’t think I have ever been so well looked after as by this project team.

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The décor of the apartment I am staying in is ‘wildlife.’ There are at least 5 animal skin area rugs, a few from small antelopes and two bigger ones. It feels very disrespespectful to the animals that I walk over them. The rest of the decorations are OK – lamps made from guinea fowl feathers and life size pictures of zebras and elephants at watering holes.

Everything was cleaned up when I returned back – so it is a bit like a hotel after all. I am told that even my clothes will be washed, on Wednesdays, and returned clean and ironed the next day.

I spent much time in the morning writing up a summary of my observations and finding patterns among the things people told me, the things that informed the design of the teambuilding later next week. In the afternoon I had more conversations that ended up validating the findings, without me even trying to. I will present these to the team and use them to trigger the kind of conversations they are not having on their own. That’s one two day event. The other, of an entirely different nature, starts on Monday.

The design for Monday’s event is predicated on being able to stick many flipcharts on the wall. But today I learned that the resort where we will be meeting won’t allow this. I had to scramble to get enough easels – even the 11 we got won’t make up for the unusable wall space. The hotel is a conference resort hotel, where conferencing happens around PowerPoint projectors – and it was chosen before there was a design. The teambuilding place is being chosen after the design – so we can select a space will match the task.

I followed Katie to yoga class after work – a restful and therapeutic one hour that got undone very quickly by watching Jabberwocky – even with the sound muted.

It was maybe a year ago, I was still in Afghanistan, that I wrote a comment on Katie’s blog where she reported on her life in South Africa. She wrote me back something like this, “I am sitting on my balcony, it’s warm and sunny. I am looking out over green hills, a glass of cool white wine in my hand…” I think I read that while it was cold and wintry in Kabul, sitting amidst diesel fumes, hacking coughs, no wine or green hills in sight. I remember being a little jealous.

And here I am now, sitting in that same apartment, looking out over these green hills, a glass of white wine and French cheese (another thing I craved in Afghanistan) on the table in front of me. Katie moved out to a real home with more space for her visiting friends and so her place has now become the MSH apartment and I am the first user. It is lovely, breaking out after four weeks in hotels.

The project staff was so kind so put some basics in the fridge, enough for breakfast. I love it that this included the local equivalent of Marmite, Bovril. I added some other basics, like wine and cheese and now life is nearly perfect.

I drove myself to the apartment in my spiffy red Hyunda, a cute little car that the project rented for me so I am no longer dependent on drivers and rides. It gives me some freedom. I had practiced the route to the apartment in my head and was able to follow it without the help of the GPS or my smartphone. I told people not to worry and I called in once I had arrived. The driving on the left side of the road was not so difficult – I have done it before and the neural pathways allowing me to do it again are still there.

I am busy with design work, a thing I like to do best, and something I didn’t get to do much in Afghanistan. I am designing one event for the beginning of next week and another for the end of next week – both for MSH projects but there the resemblance ends.

The design work has led me to rediscover my enormous library of articles and exercises that I have stored in my dropbox and can thus access anywhere.

I am re-reading and re-studying, re-writing in simple language, the works of Schon and Argyris, trying to capture explanations for what is happening here. I get to be an organizational psychologist again and it makes me happy.

Tomorrow I am moving out of the guesthouse, however nice it is, because I am tired of staying in hotels. One of our staff has vacated her one bedroom garden apartment with its wide terrace overlooking the hills – it is now called the MSH apartment and is mine for the last two weeks of my stay here. One of the administrative coordinators has been so kind to stock the refrigerator with some basics and so it is ready to move in. I will be able to prepare my own meals and work in a place that is not my bedroom. Oh, the small things that have become important after one month of hotel life.

I will also be given a rental car so I no longer depend on drivers and rides from colleagues. This does mean I have to get used to left hand manual driving – but I have done it before and I am sure I will get the hang of it quickly – and find my way around town. I have started to pay attention to the route our driver takes and at which landmarks I have to make turns. Luckily I have my smart phone, something that has become invaluable during my stay here, not just for the scrabble games that keep me connected to the home front, but also my Kindle collection and music, and now my GPS navigator.

Amidst all the bad news from Afghanistan I am getting some encouraging news from there: M. called me to say that the office had a wonderful International Women’s Day celebration and recognized that perseverance does pay off. She was not able to mobilize the women but she did mobilize the men and from what I heard it was a success.

I was in Lesotho on International Women’s Day and no one seemed to pay much attention. In Lesotho the women are running much of the government’s business, a result, I was told many years ago, of women educating themselves while their menfolk went off to the mines. Still, the political drama that played itself out at the top was entirely a men’s affair. I did see only women, not men marching off to some caucus after the split – but it was the men who split, not the women.

The other good piece of news is that Z. got accepted at a school in Rhode Island. This was a glint in our eyes two years ago when a shy Z., hardly speaking English, first showed up at my SOLA classes. But her enthusiasm made her stand out and catch up quickly with her more advanced class mates. I remember fondly reading A Thousand Splendid Suns, or Three Cups of Tea, and how she would be so upset when she got to the end of her allotted paragraph. We need one more piece of good news and that is the visa stamp in her passport. We are holding our breath.

From a more peaceful place came another piece of good news today. The wife of one of the colleagues I spent much time with the last two weeks gave birth to a baby girl, their first born. The baby arrived more or less at the time of my departure, having patiently waited for her brand new dad to be totally available to her and her mom.