Sylvia's Journal

Every day the staff in our guesthouse puts a small piece of paper with a quote on my bed. Today E.B. White tells me “I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.”

The desire to improve the world is embedded in the professional life I have chosen – but when I read Meghann’s report on her work in Afghanistan with the midwives I am reminded that we can do that in difficult or easy ways, at least in terms of personal comfort. While she is experiencing the worst Afghan winter in 15 years, angry protestors that tie Kabul traffic into knots, I am strolling in end-of-august kind of warm weather to a small Greek restaurant that serves me a crisp white wine and a lovely salad. Life is not fair.

And then I read another few pages of Laurie Garrett’s Betrayal of Trust about the horrors of post USSR environmental policy and the demise of public health. How to get all that entangled is a mystery to me. I admire the folks who jumped into that mess.

Yesterday was the first time in 10 days I could sleep in but after a restless night I was wide awake at 6 AM. I had two more interviews with project staff, both had been out of the office two weeks ago when I interviewed their colleagues, to complete my exploration of what ought to be on the teambuilding program for the project staff that is schedule for the end of March. The chief took me out for dinner and we discussed what this teambuilding intervention might look like, his hopes and wishes while adding context to what I was learning.

I completed the version 2.0 of the facilitator notes for the team that will conduct the second workshop in Namibia on their own. It is just as well to hand it over to them – I am sure they will do fine. And eventually the public management institute will do fine, but not next time – that will take a little longer.

I found out that I am leaving for Lesotho very early in the morning, somehow that did not get communicated to me or I missed it. I had some idea to get to the office first but I am off south just after sunrise. And so the brief touchdown is over and I am packing my suitcase for the fourth time in two weeks.

I had a nice Skype call with Axel who is coming to the end of his consultancy in dusty and hot Abuja. He is generally pleased with the work although not everything happened on schedule. He will be heading home on Monday evening just when I start my Lesotho assignment.

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.

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.

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.