Rich's Rants

The Big Transition

2012-01-29T23:29:00.000+03:00

I was in the gym yesterday taking a break between sets. As sweat dripped from my chin I looked down and there was a cockroach about the size of Kiran’s fist. It was on its back with its spindly little legs thrashing about. To my knowledge they can’t right themselves without a bit of a push. Regardless of how you feel about cockroaches, it’s nonetheless conflicting to see something helpless and struggling.

refugee kids coming from as far as the eye can see

I confess to feeling a bit like that cockroach lately. Soon after returning to Burundi I was feeling overwhelmed and struggling to get caught up with things. Within days of arriving I was off to the field. Similar to the many trips I’ve taken before, the context of this one was a bit different.

inspecting the nasty road

In December I was approached by the UN (UNHCR) regarding a request for us to take on logistical support for the refugee operations. Thought we already provide services in the camps, this was something unlike not only what our organization does in the country, it’s different from what we do around the world. While we provide logistical support for our programs (child protection, gender-based violence, etc.), we haven't done anything to this scale.

driving through Gasorwe camp

Initially there was strong hesitation. I discussed the proposal at length with colleagues in NY and was trying to determine how this may play out if we decided to move forward. To make a very long story short, we came to an agreement and we were off and running. Task forces were formed for five identified areas of focus. A flurry of meetings were held. Emails continued back and forth from NY as we tried to make sure that we were thinking of everything. The transition would be intense but, unfortunately, I still needed to go to the US for the holidays. The compromise was that I would continue to track the events by email and occasionally by phone. My hope was that I’d done enough prior to leaving that my physical presence during the following couple of weeks wouldn’t be necessary.

a few of our trucks

Fortunately for me the team – both the new team and the previous team – did an outstanding job. UNHCR played a key role in pulling off a successful transition as well. It was a monumental task and I don’t have time or energy to record here all of the accomplishments but suffice to say that all was in place by the first week of January to support a convoy of refugees arriving from the Congo heading towards our refugee camp on the other side of the country. Two weeks later we supported a second convoy, the one that I was able to catch up with on the road as it was nearing its destination.

new arrivals being processed

In all the administrative work needing to be done to support the transition and all of the stress and headaches, the trip to the field was helpful for more than the purpose of meeting staff and visiting facilities. It was also a stark reminder of what we are doing. As I watched the refugees being processed, being registered, collecting their camp non-food items and receiving their dinner in the transit center the human drama behind it all kept going through my mind. These people have just fled their homes, leaving everything behind, many of them have been raped, threatened, lost family members, etc. After working in and around refugee operations for several years, one can forget the tragedy and emotion that these people have faced and will continue to face. As transitions go, this is one that I hope I never go through.

the end of life as you knew it

Idaho

2012-01-14T16:14:00.001+03:00

One thing I'm finding is that my daughter is taking up a lot of space in my two holiday blogs. I suppose that's natural. She has been a big hit with the family and as for me, I've been getting to spend more time with her than I have been able to prior to the holidays.


Grandma with Kiran in basket

From Indiana we had a relatively quick and easy trip to Idaho. Our bags were much fuller thanks to the generous Christmas and some early baby shopping. The shorter internal US flights seem like a breeze compared to the long international ones and we arrived in Boise ready for round two (round three if you count Minnesota) of the vacation.

We began with a couple days in Boise celebrating our post-Christmas family gathering. It's usually a rather large gathering with lots of food and laughs. No exception this year. We did some photos as well which actually came out quite well.

After Boise we headed north to McCall. It's a ski town that wasn't having a lot of skiing due to lack of snow. I did make it up on a wet opening day with Lisa, Brett, Berkley and Tanner. Weather was crappy but it was good to get out for a ski.

Kiran with dad in McCall

Then we headed south to Kimberly to hang out with sister CJ, Mom and Dad. Good time as well. Always relaxing but, as usual, way too short. We took a quick trip to Balanced Rock, a favorite of my grandfather's and a place we make a pilgrimage from time to time. It was the first time for Priya and Kiran.

Balance Rock

I also was able to sneak away for some quick skiing. The small mountain of Pomerelle was where I learned to ski. The chairlift takes 10 minutes and the runs take me about 2 minutes but it was fun. It was a sunny wonderful morning and it's just fun to get up on the mountain.

After a couple of days in the Magic Valley, we headed back to Marsing to hang out with Cheryl, Pat, Dara and Regan. First time I'd been to their new place. Very nice. Right on the river. Good view. Quiet. Close to some mountain biking. The weather was so nice that we were able to get out for an off-season ride. And yes, I didn't even need a jacket.

Priya and Kiran in Marsing

Finally the Kiran show was over and we had to board the plane for Africa. After sleeping in three different states and eight different residences we made our way back. Once again no flight troubles and this time the bags made it. Always a surprise.

And now it's back to the tasks at hand. Lots to do. Craziness at work. Jet lag and so much travel is messing with us. Need some order and beloved routine.

“Disorder is simply the order you were not looking for.”
- Henri Bergson

Indiana

2011-12-26T05:32:00.001+03:00

I’m now in southern Indiana. Tis the Christmas season and time to take a short break from work and from Burundi. Much needed. Very challenging developments at work and I feel weary. Looking forward to time with family.

Priya, Kathy and Kiran

Putting the Mass back in Christmas

So the US has a lot of big people. It doesn’t strike you until you’ve been out of the country for a while and then you find yourself in a shopping mall surrounded by a sea of rotund shoppers. The endless fast food opportunities may have something to do with it.

Christmas at the Satows

In Burundi and traveling about I haven’t been exposed to the holidays. Hadn’t heard a single Christmas song outside our house until we arrived. Little to no decorations anywhere. We didn’t have time to put up any in our house and we only put on some Christmas music once or twice. It does make it nice when you arrive in the US since it’s not too much. You get a quick, short dose of the holidays and then it’s over.

Kiran and mum

Travel with Baby

This is our first Christmas with a baby. I was a bit nervous about the flights – stops in Kigali, Nairobi and Amsterdam before arriving in Minneapolis. But Kiran was a champ. No problems whatsoever and we had the benefit of bulkhead seating and boarding the plane first. Benefit of having a kid.

It was also nothing like the drama last year where snow caused us to spend the night on the floor of the Amsterdam airport with thousands of other stranded travelers. The thought of that happening with a baby makes me shudder. Fortunately it didn’t happen.

Kiran and dad

After relatively smooth travel, we had a brief stopover in Minnesota to visit our friend Kathy. Our bags didn’t arrive but that’s sort of common, at least with me. I’m actually more surprised when my bags arrive than when they don’t. We did manage to get them transferred so that they arrived with us the following day in Louisville.

Kiran and Grandma

Kiran and Grandpa

Indiana

Our week in Indiana was wonderful but without a Christmas snow. On the other hand with the new kiddo I suppose milder weather is not a bad thing. She’ll have plenty of time to enjoy snow later. As for activities, much of our time was spent around playing with Kiran though we were able to fit in our routine of last minute Christmas shopping, trips to the gym, the Eve service at the church, lots of yummy meals, etc.

Cousin Isabelle assisting with Kiran's first Christmas gift

It’s now Christmas Day and we just had a big, fantastic dinner. Need to begin packing. More complicated with the little one. Off to Idaho tomorrow.

Too much Christmas

A Week in Jordan

2011-12-01T20:05:00.002+03:00

Since the last posting, a lot has happened. I have been moving around a bit. Currently I’m in Dubai. I spent the night here last night and am trying to work my way back from Amman to Burundi. Other than my overnight in the United Arab Emirates, I have to spend about 8 hours in Nairobi when I get there and then about an hour in Kigali before finally arriving in Bujumbura at 1:45am. Woo hoo!. All in all this trip has amounted to 3 days of travel (1 ½ days each way) for three days of meetings. I figured Burundi to Jordan wouldn’t be very direct but it was a bit less direct than even my pessimistic expectations.

Amman

Gabriel

Oh well, in addition to the 3 days of meetings, I took about 24 hours to head down to visit one of the seven wonders of the world – Petra. I’d been there before almost 20 years ago but it’s the kind of thing you could see periodically your whole life. It’s pretty amazing.

Due to my restrictive timeline – about 24 hours including 3 ½ hours driving each way – I had to be pretty precise as to when I left and returned. I decided on taking a taxi. It’s what many people do anyway but when I’m alone I normally like to do this sort of thing on the cheap if I can. Renting a car wouldn’t have been much less and it would have eaten up even more time. And I’d have needed to figure out where I was going and all that. So I arranged the taxi through the hotel. I bargained on the price and did ok but it was still enough to make me swallow hard when I pulled out my credit card.

Thursday after my last meeting, I went to the lobby and the concierge said that the driver was out front. As I walked out I noticed that my taxi was a sleek, black 2011 Mercedes. Nice. I was starting to feel better about how much I’d paid. Moreover, the driver, Gabriel (English version he goes by) not only spoke English, he strangely enough had an accent that was half Arabic and half Texan. He’d apparently spent some time in the US many years ago and has since retained his excellent English. He also spent time in Iraq as a translator for the US military. His rich use of American profanity was a testament to time spent with soldiers.

The guy was full of stories and the drive through the barren desert went fast. He talked about his role as a translator and how it was far more than he’d signed up for. Every day was tense and often scary helping people understand each other, mostly at police/military checkpoints. He gave an example of a situation in which an Iraqi, frustrated and angered by the presence of US soldiers on his land, pulled out a gun as his car was being checked. He apparently had nothing to hide, he’d just reached the end of his tether as the questions and searching went on.

One of the soldiers put a bullet in his leg at they tried to get him to drop the gun. Though wounded he refused to put down his weapon. The translator had become a mediator as he tried to get assurances from the soldiers that if he put down the gun, he wouldn’t be harmed. After a long and excruciating moment, the guy lowered his gun. At that moment, one of the soldiers fired on him and the Iraqi was killed instantly. Shocked by what had just happened, he turned to the soldiers in disbelief. They turned away and carried on with their duties.

Gabriel talked about how much that incident, and others, scarred him. He said he’d thought about raising the issue further but he was afraid of losing his job. The salary wasn’t great but it was far more than anything he’d earned before. So he kept silent and it still haunts him. He’d given the Iraqi his word that nothing would happen to him and he was killed nonetheless.

Wadi Musa

Initially I’d wanted to take the longer road which follows the east side of the Dead Sea but Gabriel said he had to take the Desert Highway according to the agreement to go to Petra. Apparently this was something I was supposed to have discussed in advance. I also found out that he was hungry and wanted to get settled into Wadi Musa and get something to eat. Whatever. This time of year, with the shortened days in the Northern Hemisphere, daylight is reduced so it was probably just as well that I didn’t try to bite off more than I could chew. Getting to Petra after a half day of meetings, visiting the site and getting back to Amman for my flight the next day was relatively ambitious as it was.

view from the hotel

Upon arrival it was chilly and the sun was already getting low. We stopped at the first hotel we saw and I agreed to the first rate the guy gave me – about fifteen bucks. Tourism is suffering right now due to low season and the Arab Spring so I wasn’t in the mood to bargain. Also, it was pretty cheap as it was. Gabriel asked if I wanted to see the room first. That’s of course normally advisable but I was in a hurry to send Gabriel on his merry way and have the evening to myself. The guy behind the desk assured me there was hot water, gave me a clean towel and handed me the key. I have to say, I haven’t stayed in a place like this since my single days traveling around Europe. The carpet was nasty and it smelled like a 1980s pub at 2am but I have to say, it didn’t bother me a bit. I was happy to be there.

Wadi Musa is in the southern part of Jordan. Its reason for existence is primarily the adjacent historical site of Petra. It has no particular charm but, like most towns at the doorstep of cool places, its purpose is more about being functional. I wandered about the place for a while and finally stopped for some local food. In spite of the cool air, I ate outside to avoid smoke and a loud TV. After eating my fill of good food I meandered my way back to the hotel, took a hot shower and called it a day.

Petra

the siq

The next day, Gabriel was ready and waiting at 6:30am as we’d agreed. We drove the 5k to the entrance and I was off. The combination of off season and an early start gave me a peaceful walk through the siq, the long narrow canyon that takes you into the ancient city carved from sides of rock faces. Already I was noting changes from the way it was nearly twenty years ago when I was last there. The natural dirt path was now covered by tarmac. There are now benches and rubbish bins, more signs, etc. I suppose things are a bit more “civilized” but I sort of liked it a bit more raw.

Coming to the end of the siq you arrive at the famous Treasury, the incredible façade made famous in part by Indiana Jones. I had the place to myself with the exception of two camels, a Bedouin and a cat. That in itself was amazing. When I returned three hours later the area was filled with hundreds of tourists. One change to the Treasury since my last visit was that the interior is no longer accessible. It’s not a huge loss since it’s not that amazing on the inside but the extent of the carving is impressive. And it has nothing to do with what was shown in the movie.

the Treasury

After a short visit, I moved on. I could hear the echo of voices coming through the siq and I wanted to stay ahead of the coming throng. As I walked through the ancient city I stopped at a small tent and bought a thick cup of coffee from a couple of Bedouins. I walked along with my cup to-go shooting photos and enjoying the cool desert morning. I hiked up to the monastery, sat for a moment and enjoyed the view from the top and then started heading back down.

the monastery

After a three-hour visit or so I was back to the Treasury which was by now a sea of tourists speaking every language imaginable. After taking a few more photos with the different lighting, I worked my way back up the siq feeling a bit like a salmon swimming upstream. Arriving at the entrance I located Gabriel who was having a smoke with his friend Mohammed. We shared a quick mint tea and then it was time to head to Amman. I still had a long trip ahead of me that would include a flight to Dubai, overnight in a hotel, flight to Nairobi (where I am writing this during my 8-hour layover), flight to Kigali and then on to Bujumbura for my 2am Saturday arrival. Then no more travel until…Monday.

Lots of Travel and a Famous Visitor

2011-11-21T01:00:00.003+03:00

“Absence diminishes commonplace passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and kindles fire.”

-Francois, duc de La Rochefoucauld, moralist (1613-1680)

I’m in Amman, Jordan. Clearly absence is something I’m familiar with. Trips to visit projects. Rwanda. New York. Jordan. Then it will be back to Rwanda, then back to the US (multi-city) – all of this within an 8-week period. Then it all starts again in January. Nonetheless, I’m looking forward to the upcoming holidays, even though it means loads more travel. As far as my family goes, it’s travel without the absence.

Dubai rising above the mist on my flight to Amman

Whether or not you’ve noticed, I seldom use last names or sometimes I’ll avoid names altogether. The desire is to limit the google search presence of people’s information. I don’t password protect the blog because I don’t think it’s necessary but I do want to limit to some extent the blogs web footprint. It’s not that I say anything secretive in nature, it’s just that I would rather that most of the visitors be family and friends. I don’t mind other people reading and it sort of fascinates me that people I don’t know read this thing. Last month I had 483 hits just to give you an idea. Maybe it’s a sign that winter is setting in up in the northern hemisphere and people have nothing better to do.

Romola

As I mentioned previously, we had a visit by a British actress. In this case I’ll go ahead and name her since publicity is a good thing for actor. Moreover, I’m going to say nice things. Her name is Romola. She’s a Golden Globe nominee and I was familiar with her having seen Amazing Grace (which I highly recommend). She’s also done a lot of critically acclaimed stuff that I haven’t seen. Now that I know her I want to see more of her work.

Romola (seated center) watching the Burundian drummers

Most of the visit to our program in Burundi came while I was still in NY. Fortunately, at my request, she was able extend long enough for me to overlap with her by a day and a half or so. I have to say, these types of visits can go either way. There have been some nightmare celebrity visits to international organization projects around the world. I have had few such interactions since I tend to work in obscure places but my Country Director counterparts have some stories that make my stomach tighten up just hearing. In our case, Romola is intelligent and came well informed. She asked good questions, honing in mostly on women’s issues though we visited others youth projects as well. We had lunch a couple of times and she came to our house for a reception. I have to say, she does seem to escape the stereotypical self-absorbed, ill-informed actor out to ease his/her conscience and boost the career by photos with starving babies. It will be interesting to see where this goes but I do know that she has a good handle on what this work is about. She’s clear on the fact that the developing world doesn’t need or want a quick fix, particularly since it doesn’t exist, and that the work is often arduous, long-term and the solutions are complex.

Anyway, go see her movies. She was a great visitor and I hope, if we get more celebs interested in coming, that they measure up.

For now, however, I’m in the Middle East. It’s raining and chilly this Sunday night. Had a skype video call with my wife and baby a bit ago. Sad to be away so much but it does seem to diminish “commonplace passions and increases great ones” – the great ones being my family. In case you didn’t know.

the great ones

cutest baby ever

A Quick Week in NY

2011-11-12T11:55:00.003+03:00

I’m sitting in JFK Airport after a busy week in NY. It’s been good to be in the US but I’m very happy to return to Burundi.

visiting our friend Liya (in front of Madison Sq. Garden)

One thing that always amazes me is how American media fixates on stories and they just go on and on. I’ve never seen this anywhere else. The Wall Street protests (which I visited) have been replaced by the Penn State football scandal which was momentarily replaced by Rick Perry’s gaffe and now we’re back to endless commentary about Penn State’s scandal. It’s not that these are not news stories; it’s that they beat the story into the ground. CNN, which I presume would have access to lots of other interesting stories, is at this moment interviewing a former Penn State cheerleader. Sorry. That’s not news.

the Wall Street protestors

My week in NY was fortunately not filled with time in front of the TV watching recycled news stories. Loads of meetings filled my days and work dinners filled my evenings. One exception was our gala event on Wednesday which included David Gregory (60 Minutes) as MC and David Letterman doing a bit of comedy.

apparently some recycled jokes from the night before, but still funny

He was followed by Colin Powell who gave a rather impressive speech about the work our organization does and encouraging some of NY’s wealthiest to cough up some funds for our work around the world. Powell was followed by Tom Brokaw and family who received our award this year. As I did two years ago, I was able to chat with him a bit afterwards. He’s particularly attached to our program in Rwanda to I have a connection with him. Very cool guy and a wonderful family.

Tom flanked by family and Colin

The evening was wrapped up by a couple of songs from John Legend. He’s become a big supporter of our work and has even visited some of our projects. I’d like to get him to Burundi or Rwanda. Be good for our programs and probably for him as well.

It’s nearly time to board. Anxious to travel halfway around the globe to see my wife and baby. I arrive at around midnight tomorrow and by 10am I need to meet our British actress visitor to Burundi. Going to be some fatigue and jet lag.

So I wasn’t successful in getting this posted before the flight. I’m not on the other side of the Atlantic getting ready to head south. That’s one thing that is on my Christmas list: direct flights to the US. Speaking of flights, after we boarded our Air France flight in NY, they started playing the James Bond theme. Caught my attention but I didn’t think too much about it until the pilot came on and said, “Welcome aboard Air France flight 007 destination Paris Charles de Gaulle.” Mais oui, the French do have a sense of humor.

An Uncomfortable Thought

2011-10-31T13:01:00.001+03:00

It's a rainy morning in Bujumbura. 'Tis the season. I always say that it's my favorite time of year and I'm often challenged by expat friends who tell me that it's easy for me to say since I don't have to walk everywhere and fear that my house won't slide off the hillside. Fair enough I guess. Nonetheless I thought I'd poll a few Burundians/Rwandans to get their opinions. In my non-scientific survey I've been pleasantly surprised to find out that people are quite mixed on the topic and it seems irrespective of level in society. So I will say freely, the rainy season is my favorite time of year.

I was in Rwanda last week for my regular visit, meetings, etc. It was a good week overall and I like the team there, the new office, etc. There is a lot of work to be done but I think we're on the right track.

artful interior of the museum

One thing I remembered was that I never blogged about my visit to the genocide memorial/museum. Usually when I go to Kigali, I just lower my head and work 16-17 hours a day. I normally don't go out unless it's for work and I have never spent time just driving around and exploring. The last visit encompassed a weekend and, though I was tempted again to take advantage of the extra time and catch up on emails, I did venture out for a few hours – just a vehicle and me with no driver (except of course me).

victim photos

Most of the time was spent at the memorial. It's an intense experience, particularly if you go alone and take your time to think about what you are seeing. Even though I'm generally well aware of what happened, having seen documentaries, read books, talked to many Rwandans about it, I have to say that it's still beyond what the brain can handle.

In addition to a lot of new contextual information, it was powerful to walk around and see the events develop. There are photos, short films/testimonials, etc. that take you through the relevant history well before the genocide all the way up to today. I often felt sick to my stomach as I tried to imagine what people were going through. It's hard to get your mind around the fact that so many people gave themselves over to so much brutality.

haunting displays of victim clothing

I read an interesting book a while back about a black South African woman who was working with the notorious Apartheid killer Eugene de Kock (dubbed "Prime Evil") during the well-known peace and reconciliation efforts. The intriguing thing about her book was to watch the evolution of this woman who, over the course of many interviews, went from hating this man to the uncomfortable feeling that he was not the detestable creature that she wanted him to be. His demeanor was nothing like what she had expected and it eroded some of the feelings that would continue to justify her hatred towards him. Taking nothing away from the horrible things he was responsible for, it became more about the sick feeling she developed that quite possibly the potential for such behavior to germinate was in all of us. Though not an amazing piece of literature, a fascinating book nonetheless.

this is not Halloween

And so I thought about that book while I visited the memorial. It's clearly one of the most vivid case studies (similar to WWII) of how evil can penetrate a large population. It's beyond tragic. And when you look at where Rwanda is today given where they've come from, it's even harder to believe. While the progress is astounding and it appears that the past is well behind them, you can't help but wonder if the potential for the train to derail is still there.

I was reminded that today is Halloween in the US. Probably a sign that things are going well in a society that can find fun in scary things.

Of Mice and Men

2011-10-17T15:32:00.001+03:00

Cleaning lady just came in to clean out the cupboards in my office. The multiple shelves have been serving as spacious high-rise apartments for the little annoying mice. While traces of their nibbling and feces have been apparent for months, the last week or so has seen a significant increase in activity, just short of seeing empty wine glasses and crumpled party hats. Anyway, as we used to say, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Time for a mousetrap.

We have now moved into our new house. I'm more excited about it than Priya who had grown attached to our neighbors. We're still only a short walk from our former house but it's much more complicated to access our former neighbors than it was – particularly in the evening. Moreover, the new house comes with some issues. One of which is the electricity. We had a massive and sustained power surge (almost double the voltage) and knocked out some of our electrical appliances. This happened in Dar to us a few times as well but not quite on this scale. Our big, expensive surge protector blew up as a result but at least it gave its life to protect our new TV and some other things. The wireless router however was toast along with my computer cable even though they were on the protector. In the kitchen it was the fridge that bit the dust. My desk is now strewn with blackened circuit boards. But we have a nice view.

So the British actress that was interested in coming to visit our projects here in Burundi has confirmed that the trip is on. And wouldn't you know that it is exactly the time that I need to be in NY for meetings. I'm trying to get her team to overlap with me by a day so that I can at least meet her. We don't get that many famous people interested in our work and it'd be nice to be around. More later on who this actress is.

Towards the end of last year we did a survey with Johns Hopkins University for our gender-based violence program across the border in the Congo. The survey interviewed women in rebel-held (FDLR) areas around Bukavu. The results are pretty shocking:

90.7% of interviewed women have been raped at least once in their life
79% of raped women were gang-raped
22.2% have a child from the rape
30% have never told anyone (family, husband, friends) they have been raped
48.9% have been rejected by their families following the incident
51% were abandoned by their husband following the rape

It's a pretty sobering list of statistics. While it makes me glad we're here working on these issues, it just sometimes seems so incredibly daunting what women are going through every day. Our contributions seem very pale in comparison to the magnitude of the problem.

Gatumba

2011-09-30T10:07:00.002+03:00

The small town of Gatumba is located on the northern tip of Lake Tanganyika, only a few kilometers from the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo to the west and a similar distance to Bujumbura to the east. Given the lake's tremendous length (673km/418m – the second largest freshwater lake in the world by volume) and the only options to get from one side to the other were by boat or to go around, this strip of land at the top has seen considerable traffic for centuries.

Rough Neighborhood

This area, and particularly this hamlet, has seen more than its share of violence over the years, most of which has probably never been recorded. Enough has been documented to give you an idea of the drama the residents have experienced, particularly in recent history.

Theories abound as to why the area has seen so much violence. One logical starting point is the Western invasion into the heart of Africa. In colonial times the northern part of the lake was a point of contention between occupying powers. In the early 20^th century, the outbreak of World War I saw Allied forces (i.e. Briton and Belgium) taking up arms against the Germans, who at the outset, while occupying what is modern day Tanzania, had complete control of the lake. Each side forced indigenous populations to serve as foot soldiers. Often this forced people to be at war with each other that had peacefully coexisted for centuries.

Che

Che instructing Congolese rebels

As colonial times were drawing to a close, the large and hard-to-govern Congo continued to play a role in the area's unrest. One small but interesting example was in 1965 when Argentinean revolutionary Che Guevara used the western shores of Lake Tanganyika as a training camp for guerrilla forces in the Congo. From his camp Che and his forces attempted to overthrow the government but ended up pulling out in less than a year.

The hangover from the colonial era set the stage for the ensuing ethnic violence in Burundi and particularly Rwanda that would inevitably spill over into the Congo. These more recent struggles, the Rwandan genocide, civil war in Burundi, violence in the Congo, provide the basis for today's animosity which is linked to a number of causes, ethnic animosity being only one.

Refugee Camp Massacre

Flash forward to August 13, 2004. A refugee camp in Gatumba was the scene of one of the largest civilian massacres ever carried out in Burundi. A force of armed combatants, many of them members of the Forces for National Liberation (FNL), massacred at least 160 Congolese civilians and wounded more than a hundred more. The attack occurred after nightfall when men armed with machetes and guns attacked the camp, torching houses, shooting people as they tried to escape and leaving the scene littered with bodies, many burned beyond recognition. (NB: The refugees were subsequently moved to the eastern part of the country and we are now providing protection, education and other support for these camps.)

One Example of Many

I visited the town a few weeks ago. One of the people we'd been supporting through our activities in the village had been killed and I was paying a visit to the mother of the victim as a show of support. The girl, a 9-year-old, was raped towards the end of last year. Though the perpetrator had been arrested, the mother and daughter had been dealing with not only the incident but also threats from the family of the rapist. Long story short, the girl went missing in May and her body was found a few weeks ago decapitated and lying in a wooded area just outside town. The brother of the rapist is considered to be the leading suspect.

visit to Gatumba

Yet Another Massacre

My visit was still fairly fresh in my mind when another and much larger incident happened a week ago Sunday night. After nightfall a group of armed men attacked a bar, once again in Gatumba. The attack occurred around 8:00pm local time and the attackers were armed with guns and grenades and were well organized according to witnesses. They apparently asked everyone in the bar to lie down and then proceeded to open fire. The latest figure announced was 22 dead on the spot with several others seriously injured. The wounded were evacuated to hospitals in Bujumbura. Nine apparently died later as a result of their injuries. There is speculation that the attack was the work of a rebel group hiding in eastern Congo and connected to the current unrest in Burundi.

Contrast

As we were driving back after visiting the mother of the girl that had been killed, I was thinking about the area's troubled existence and how sad it is (all the while unaware of the massacre to come only days later). The village sits at one of the most stunning locations on the lake. Facing the water you have the hills of Bujumbura to your left and the impressive mountains of the Congo to your right. The climate is near perfect – tropical without the nasty heat. The underlying tension and trouble seem to be in such striking contrast to such a serene and beautiful setting.

view from our house

Yet people live in tremendous fear. Smaller, more isolated attacks occur almost daily, not only in Gatumba but throughout the rural areas surrounding Bujumbura. While many organizations suspended operations in the area following the recent massacre, we chose to continue. It's a credit to our staff who are willing to continue to serve the community and are in agreement that the worst time to walk away from these people is now – when they likely need us the most.

Drama

2011-09-05T23:01:00.001+03:00

One of the nice things about living or traveling in foreign countries is that it's often sprinkled with these endearing little moments that probably only seem endearing because you're not used it.

I am sitting in this Greek restaurant not far from the Kigali house after a long day's work. I'm going through work emails and a soap opera is on a TV in the corner and Greek music is blasting behind me. The soap opera is called "Untamed Women" and appears to be one of the many that appear in Africa dubbed over into English. It is serious cheese but, unlike the title would indicate, it's not porn. It's just pure, over-the-top Latin American drama at its finest. In fact I think my current evening's mix of Latin America, Greece and Africa would be cause for a blown cultural fuse if it weren't for the fact that I've spent considerable time in all three places. The drippy, emotionally-charged Greek music takes me back to sitting in a Thessaloniki café, sipping on an ouzo and watching a passionate live performance while having my friends tell me how unfortunate it is that I don't understand the profound lyrics. The soap takes me back to sitting in a Brazilian restaurant with waitresses pausing while taking your order as their eyes are glued to a TV mounted in the corner. Will the troubled handsome rebel finally embrace the beautiful, poor, young woman as she has so patiently hoped for so many episodes? Or will he fall for the rich, mean blond that has successfully marginalized the poor, young woman during those same episodes? Or will the waitress finally take my order?

What's surprising is how many Africans watch these things. They have their own as well. Nigerians have a well-developed culture of soap operas and they're watched all over the continent. They are also loaded with drama and bad acting but the themes are quite different. One that I watched occasionally while traveling in Tanzania, limited to a single local channel, usually involved some sort of scam. One episode that sticks out in my mind had a guy selling out his girlfriend as a prostitute. She was also supposed to drug her client and rob him before leaving. When she would resist doing these evil deeds, the boyfriend would accuse her of being selfish and not loving him enough to do this to support them financially. I think the Latin American ones make me a lot less sick to my stomach because I can picture the Nigerian ones really happening.

Misunderstood

2011-09-04T10:40:00.005+03:00

I'm sitting here in my living room in Kigali – Rwanda being one of my three current "homes" in addition to Burundi and the US. I'm sipping coffee on a Sunday morning and reflecting on my past week here. It's been busy with meetings, presentations, keeping up with things in Burundi, and a visit to the genocide memorial yesterday. One thing that I often think about is the fact that a lot of African countries are misunderstood. Rwanda is one of them.

People basically know about it because of the genocide but beyond that, people have little awareness of what the country is about seventeen years later. People that spend time in sub-Saharan Africa are aware that it is rapidly becoming one of the shining stars on the continent in spite of some huge disadvantages. In addition to the unbelievable challenge of overcoming the massacres, intense ethnic hatred and/or distrust, massive population movements both into and out of the country, it also has some basic economic obstacles. It is landlocked. It has no port and has to import almost everything by truck from the coast through Kenya or Tanzania. It has some tourism (gorillas) but it's insignificant. It has relatively few natural resources and it has the highest population density on the continent with all its available arable land already cultivated.


photo of Kigali from the Hotel des Milles Collines (made famous in the film Hotel Rwanda)

And yet its economy is growing quickly. It has an emerging middle class. It's clean and well-organized. Crime and corruption are relatively low. I can walk home from a restaurant at night. None of that is true about Burundi. And yet for many, the perceptions of the country seem to be forever linked to the events seventeen years ago. Granted the country is not entirely out of the woods yet. The ethnic tension is still there though unspoken. It's still heavily reliant upon donor funding. There are also fears as to what would happen to the country if something were to happen to President Kagame given that, regardless of one's opinion about him (some feel he doesn't respect human rights but that's a long discussion that I will avoid here), he's clearly been a strong leader and played the key role in this amazing transformation.

But the country has shown a willingness to make some bold moves to not only get to where it is but also to lay the foundation such that the progress continues. It's just not clear how dependent it is on the president. One important thing they've done is create a functional legal system. Without the accountability of a legal system with integrity, you can't go anywhere. The funds that go into the government coffers are used relatively efficiently. That encourages donor investment. People pay taxes. And the government aggressively delivering. It is improving the country's infrastructure at an impressive pace.

one of the many examples of the unexpectedly modern - the lobby of the Mille Collines

Other bold moves include changing one of the official languages from French to English. That's an incredibly difficult thing to do when you think about it. One of the key rationales on the part of the government is economic (though there are some other reasons). They've also banned plastic bags. You don't have to travel much around the world to see how big a difference that makes. It's pretty amazing. And in a developing country where most people have to rely on walking great distances, forcing them to come up with alternatives to the late 20^th century reliance on plastic is no small feat. They've also spent tons of money on IT infrastructure and is in the middle of a plan to roll it out to all corners of the country. There are also significant investments in the education and healthcare sectors producing some impressive results, particularly in the last five years or so.

Yet it's still a developing country with a lot of huge challenges ahead. Anyone who's picked up a history book knows how quickly things can take a turn for the worse, particularly in this part of the world. It's also in the middle of a rough neighborhood. I met with the head of security for the US Embassy on Friday and we discussed potential insecurity in other countries that may have a ripple effect on this country (particularly in the Congo and Burundi).

So we push forward with cautious optimism.

The Thing You Hope Won’t Happen

2011-08-27T17:13:00.012+03:00

Last week was the kind you generally wish didn’t happen. I’d thought the toughest part of my week might be meeting with the refugee teachers regarding their stipend. I was wrong.

As refugees they are not allowed salaries, partially because they receive all of their basic needs just by being refugees. Host countries also don’t like to see well-paid refugees since it tends to make them more reluctant to return to their country of origin. My job was to reiterate what they’ve already heard – that there is no increase and besides, it’s not determined by us but by the UN. I’ve had this discussion numerous times, including dozens of times in the camps in Tanzania. While I understand their frustrations of not being paid a proper salary for their jobs as teachers, they are unfortunately refugees and they need to respect the limitations (and privileges) that come with the territory.

The Accident

We headed out shortly after noon for Muyinga. I was with my driver, Yves, and our Education Coordinator, Innocent. We were about two hours into our trip when we were entering a village, about 10k before Ngozi, a decent sized town which serves as the capital for the province. All of the sudden, out from behind a vehicle parked on the other side of the road, a little boy came bolting across in front of us. Yves hit the brakes but it was too late. The vehicle slammed into the kid on my side of the vehicle he went careening off to the side of the road. It was a sick sound and an even more sick feeling.

We were still rolling forward as Yves and I looked at each other. He said calmly, "I believe we need to keep going." I nodded. It goes against all of your Western instincts to leave the scene of an accident but even in just a few brief seconds, the mob was approaching.

This was something that I learned in Tanzania and was hoping that I’d never have to deal with it. In many parts of the world where mob justice is the norm, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa, the population has a tendency to take matters such as this in their own hands. Immediately. We saw this a number of times in Tanzania and it’s horrible. They’ll attack with whatever they have in their hands. They’ll use machetes. They’ll put an old tire around your neck and light it on fire. It’s ugly and it usually ends in death. Police don’t necessarily condone it but once it gets going, it’s very difficult to stop.

As Yves hit the accelerator I looked back to my right. The boy wasn't moving. As we made our way out of the village the vehicle was quiet. It’s one of those things that happens fast and you spend a minute or two getting it into your head that you really did experience it and now you really have to deal with it.

Just a few kilometers down the road, in one of the rare times I was happy to see a police checkpoint, we stopped, got out and explained what happened. They were quite understanding confirmed we did the right thing. The head policeman pulled out his notebook and started asking questions. He would end up spending the afternoon with us as we went on to Ngozi to deal with paperwork and eventually, with police reinforcements, return to the scene of the accident. During this time the police commander received a call that the boy was alive and getting some medical attention at the small clinic in the village.

It was a relief to say the least. As much as I was dreading heading back to the small village, I did want the opportunity to express my sympathy and support to the family. While it’s clear that they would know why we would have left the scene of the accident in a hurry, at the very minimum there would still be quite a bit of anger over what happened, regardless of whether or not it was avoidable.

Back to the Scene

There was a bit of an awkward moment in that our vehicle is not allowed to carry guns. While I was hoping that we would have strong, visible police protection, I wasn’t going to bend the rules even in this case. Fortunately we would be able to find the necessary protection within the small village on arrival. I was still quite nervous and I’m sure that my colleagues were as well. The plan was to go to the clinic, check on the boy and then make our way to the scene of the accident for the “investigation”.

We went straight to the small clinic. It was situated about 50 meters off the road and a large crowd was gathered near the entrance. I didn’t know how we would be received but I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be a warm welcome. I gritted my teeth, got out of the car, made my way through the throng of people and went inside the clinic. So far so good. The smell reminded me of the clinics in Tanzania when I was working on the HIV/AIDS project. I’m not sure what the smell is. It’s not necessarily foul but it’s not necessarily delightful either.

We were escorted to the room where the boy was being treated. He was indeed alive and semi-conscious. He had a huge bandage on his head and only his face was peering out through the red-stained gauze. The father was sitting at the foot of the bed staring at his son with glassy eyes. The floor was a mess with streaks of dried blood where someone done an initial wiping but no cleaning of what appeared to have been a significant pool.

The clinical officer who was attending to the boy said that he might be ok but he said he needed to get to the regional hospital in Ngozi. I said we’d be happy to take him. The police commander reminded me that we needed to first go to the scene of the accident for the investigation and then we could come back and get the boy. Most of the conversation that afternoon was in Kirundi and except where they borrow words from either Swahili or French, I understand nearly nothing. I was generally in the dark when it came to the details of what was going on. We then made our way back through the crowd outside the clinic. It had grown and was surrounding not only the entrance to the hospital but also the vehicle. We and the police squeezed inside and off we went. This would be the second most frightening moment of the day.

It was only about 100 meters from the clinic to where we parked and got out. Or at least everyone else got out. The commander suggested I stay in the vehicle. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be locked in the vehicle at a distance with the guys carrying the guns or right by that man’s side. I figured he knew what he was doing so as soon as they were out and pushing through the crowds towards the spot of the accident, I hit the doorlock.

I could see it was a dilemma for some of the young guys who were staring at me in the vehicle. While there was fascination over this white guy, there were a bunch of armed police over doing something that was also attracting interest. I was happy to see that, though it was about two-deep around me, the bulk of people were more curious about what the police were doing. I was increasingly becoming worried, however, about whether or not the mob could be kept in check. Because of the people gathered around me and the even bigger crowd around them, I couldn’t see what was going on across the way.

The crowd kept getting bigger and bigger. People were taking pictures of me with their cell phones. Finally (it was less than 5 minutes but it felt like an hour) they came back to the car and off we went to the clinic. Poor Yves was a mess but he held his own. After we paid the clinic bills they carried the boy to the vehicle. His eyes were partially open. This must have seemed absolutely surreal to him. We put him in the back seat with his father, the clinical officer and, of course, the police commander.

Finally to the Hospital

As we drove to Ngozi, it was a quiet ride. The father refused to make eye contact for the entire time. I offered them some water which they took though the father made a point to stare at the floor as he reached out his hand. It’s understandable though probably for selfish reasons I wanted him to acknowledge how sorry we were.

I have to say, the hospital in Ngozi was impressive compared to the regional hospitals I frequented in Tanzania. The facilities were generally very clean and they attended to him right away. The receiving doctor seemed optimistic but he said head injuries are weird. Internal bleeding and things like that can end things in a hurry. Infection is also a huge problem in rural facilities. Anyway, we eventually had to leave them. It was starting to get late in the afternoon and we absolutely had to be off the roads before dark. We were still an hour away from Muyinga and we were far from being done with the police. We had to go to their rather nasty police compound where there would still be the traditional negotiation as to fault and compensation. I’ll avoid further detail but they were actually pretty fair.

Happy to Be Done with the Day

We eventually got to our guesthouse about 5:30pm. I was tired, dehydrated, headachey, hungry (no lunch) and that sick feeling in my stomach would stick around for quite some time. I was happy to hear that the boy is likely to pull through. I was also happy to get off the roads given that Muyinga has been having some insecurity by what some locals are calling rebels and the police are calling bandits. Either way, my concern was validated. Around 11:00pm that night in a small community not far from town and unidentified armed group reportedly lobbed a grenade in a local shop, attacked a residence and injured two people.

As I drifted off to sleep in the shelter of my mosquito net with the hum of the generator in the distance I thought, it’s still only Monday.

Kids

2011-08-21T20:09:00.008+03:00

So the relationship with my family has been reduced to this:

Now I'm not complaining. Seeing my wife and baby for weeks and weeks via my computer screen is amazing. I compare it to when I first left the US and my communication with family was a short once-or-twice-a-year phone call and letters which usually would take two weeks to arrive. A video call back then would have been science fiction. But I'd still like to have the real deal.

Sad Story, To Say The Least

I went to church this morning. One of the things this church does is call the children up to the front before the sermon. Then they are released to go terrorize their Sunday school teachers. You have all sizes and shapes. There are a couple of white kids but the rest are mostly Burundian. As I looked at them I wondered about the future of the children in this country. Often when we're tired of the bad news we hear or read about, looking at children gives us a bit of hope. As I looked at these kids, I have to say that I wish I were more hopeful.

Towards the end of last year I was informed that a girl had been raped in a community where we work just a few kilometers from here. She was 9. Tragically that's not necessarily rare news here. Even more tragically, that's not the worst part of this particular story.

The alleged perpetrator was arrested. A sick footnote is that he happened to be in a relationship with the girl's mother at the time of the rape. Apparently he's not a nice guy but since the mother is single, often women are desperate for some sort of financial support. Your choices in this situation are limited. I was also told that, though he is in jail, he may not stay there if there is no solid case brought against him. For poor people here, that's not an easy thing to do. You can't just put a case forward to a state-appointed attorney and just sit back and watch the system do its thing. Moreover, power and/or money can easily make things go away.

Then in May the girl disappeared and no one has known what happened to her. Until last week.

I was informed on Wednesday that the girl was found dead just a few kilometers from Bujumbura. She'd been decapitated and left in the woods not far from her village. Because there is no embalming or refrigeration, funerals generally happen quickly. They held this one on Friday. According to the mother, the rapist's brother is allegedly responsible for the killing.

a girl similar in age to the victim
(my colleague Felix took this)

I normally don't use the blog to go into the dramas that are the realities of life in the developing world. I hear tragic stories on a daily basis through my staff, counterparts in the government or other organizations and in my security reports. It's quite messy here and it's not my intention to depress people in the developed world as they are sipping their morning coffee. I normally discuss these things in general terms, possibly to let people know about the context in which I work but also to remind people that there are some nasty things going on and a broken dishwasher just may not be the end of the world. This situation, however, struck me as one that shows the dysfunction of so many aspects of this society. It's ugly and sad and I felt compelled to write about it.

I'm sure that the psychoanalyst in some of you might say that he just had a daughter and therefore such things are striking a chord that they didn't previously. Maybe. One thing is for sure, though I have far thicker skin now that I did many years ago, I always want this sort of thing to affect me. I never want to get to the point that I am numb to such tragedies no matter how often I hear about them.

So as I looked at those children this morning (girls all standing straight and boys punching each other), I felt a cautious smile come to my face. The vast majority of violent crime in this country, including the above case, is cause by people who were in their formative years during the 13-year civil war that officially ended in 2006. Encouragement can be drawn from the fact that those children have no conscious memory of life in wartime (instability of course but not war). Maybe, just maybe, that will make the difference.

Return to Burundi

2011-08-10T21:53:00.004+03:00

My return to Burundi comes with a couple of welcome back gifts that are common in sub-Saharan Africa: rolling blackouts and bug infestations. As for the former, I'm sitting here in the dark, in the glow of my laptop, feeling like I'm back in Tanzania. This sort of thing happened frequently while I was there. It was such the norm that if you were at a restaurant with friends and the lights went out people wouldn't even break conversation.

Though it happens here from time to time, it's nothing like Dar es Salaam. Having said that, this period is apparently going to last. I'm still not sure what the power cut schedule is but since my return it's been 6pm to 6am or so every two days with sporadic outages here and there. For me there's good news and bad news. The good news is that I now have a generator for the house. The bad news is that it's not hooked up yet. Oh well, I can type until my battery runs out.

For the latter gift, I went into the pantry to grab some coffee to start my Sunday morning. I looked to my left and saw what looked like small chocolate chips in the bag of flower. Then I noticed them in the large back of rice. Then the lentils. And so it went. Given my zero tolerance policy for bugs, I unfortunately had my next couple hours planned for me. I salvaged what I could and tossed the rest. The stuff that was in sealed plastic containers was just as bad as the rest since the bugs arrive already in the dry goods. Sealing it inside just kept the competition out. Much of the lentils were reduced to powder so there was no saving them. I bought a deep freezer right before I left for the US so this might be the solution.

Funny how our cook prepared chapattis and rice for me last week without mentioning it. Ugh. As I peer into my rice I can see that some of the invaders made it all the way. As for the chapattis, the discovery came a bit late. I already ate them.

And now back to my favorite subject...

So I promise not to use this blog to talk about our new daughter all the time. But given that it's still the first month, I'm allowed.

that's right, cutest baby ever

After Kiran was born, and to pick up where the previous entry ended, I had a little over a week to spend with her before I had to leave for Burundi. It was so amazing. I thought of all those people who told me they had their first baby and to whom I probably I acknowledged it with some level of heartfelt congratulations. I must admit, however, I didn't have a clue what might be going on inside their heads. Granted, not all people experience things the same way and I think my reaction to this is probably different from someone, for example, who's in his twenties. And there are probably others who don't overthink things like I normally do but regardless, I would have to believe most people would be at least a little blown away by the thought of bringing a life into the world – that crazy God-given miracle that starts with a couple of cells and somehow turns into something that spits up on your shoulder. Given that we had a slim chance of having kids, she's all the more of a blessing.

I'm just sayin', she's really, really cute

Kiran

2011-07-28T18:27:00.002+03:00

I'd hoped to get more time to write while in the US. I'm finding it has been a lot harder than I anticipated. Granted, it has been an eventful time.

So I'm in southern Indiana. Hot, muggy southern Indiana. I've only been here around Christmas and it's the first time that I've seen it in summer. It's quite beautiful though the weather tends to keep you indoors.

The Beginning

Well, the big day finally arrived. Life will never be the same. On July 19^th at 9:28pm ET Kiran (Keer-uhn) Crothers was born. Ah yes, the cutest little girl on the planet. Don't EEEVEN try to tell me otherwise.

It began by my arrival in Louisville and the half-hour to forty-five minute drive to Priya's parents' place. One of the first things on the agenda was the birth class. We were able to fit in two of them and I have to say that, though I was dreading them, they were quite good. The instructor, Virginia (a bit of irony in the name for such an occupation), was witty and moved quickly through topic after topic.

One thing that amazes me about the whole process is how much we do not have figured out. Everything comes with the caveat that one never knows exactly what's going to happen. From the way the pregnancy unfolds to what exactly is going to transpire during the birth. There are many knowns of course but a fascinating number of unknowns, particularly since this process has happened many, many billions of times.

The night before the big day Priya felt what seemed like contractions. We weren't really sure since Priya didn't really know what contractions felt like. By 2am, however, we knew that they were the real deal. I timed them over the next few hours and by 6am we decided that they were within the range of where we were told to make our move to the hospital. We had a 45 min. drive and the potential of 8am traffic so we decided all things were pointed to the need to get on the road.

awaiting the next contraction

The Hospital
We were sent to triage where we were told that Priya met the criteria to be admitted. We were told that about two-thirds actually get sent back home due to false alarms so we were happy to be officially underway.

The next several hours were largely uneventful as the contractions didn't progress significantly. They'd actually diminished since the administering of the IV so we were a bit concerned that this may take some time. About noon they decided to break her water and get the process moving. It did but more lethargically than we'd hoped. She was just under 5 cm. dilated (of the 10 necessary) and not increasing.

the first photo

One thing that was moving forward, however, was the intensity of her contractions. It's a brutal thing to watch someone you love go through such pain though it pales in comparison to actually going through it yourself. As much as we wanted to avoid it, by the middle of the afternoon we opted for the epidural – the wonderful drug that numbs the lower body.

A couple of hours later they decided to administer Pitocin to provide a boost to the process. It worked and within the next two hours Priya was 9 cm. We now knew we were getting closer.

Hospital rooms are notorious for isolating you from the outdoors. Given that the adjacent parking garage had a bird's eye view of our room and all the poking and prodding the doctors were doing to my wife, we kept the blinds mostly closed. Nonetheless we could hear the arrival of an approaching thunderstorm. For the remainder of the eventful evening, the pounding thunder and rain against the window provided a backdrop.

After one last check around 8:30pm, equipment was starting to arrive in our room. Staff were moving in and out arranging scalpels, towels, lamps, etc. Shortly after 9pm Priya was asked to start pushing during contractions. Because of the epidural the nurse had to tell her when the contractions were.

washed but not happy

We'd been told that there would be a sheet to provide a bit of a barrier for the "activities". None was provided so I had a front seat for the whole show. I have to say, however, that the subsequent events ended up being far from gross or cause for dizziness. It was a fascinating and wonderful event (aided by the epidural).

found the thumb quickly

The Arrival
The new addition to our family began to make her appearance little by little. By 9:28pm out she came. At this point, had I not been sensitized to what I was going to see, I might have been somewhat shocked and/or queasy. The shiny, purple creature doesn't look very human at the outset and there is that accompanying mess.

The pace of activity increased. I was given the scissors to cut the umbilical cord and ceremoniously carried out my duty. Our little girl was then quickly handed over to the two staff waiting to attend to the new baby. I had Priya on one side of me and the newborn on the other. As Priya seemed to be doing well, I turned my attention (and my camera) on the latter. Fingers and toes all accounted for. Her voluminous cries demonstrated that her lungs and voice box were clearly intact. As they checked her out it began to appear that she was a healthy and beautiful baby.

the new dad

After a while I was asked if I was ready to take our newborn. Being caught up in the spectacle of the whole childbirth scene, it took a brief second to respond to the request. Oh yea, not only is this a surreal scene but we get a baby out of all this drama. Hand 'er over.

Now I don't want to make a bigger deal of holding my child for the first time than it really was but I have to be honest. It was one of the most incredible things I've ever felt in my life. She was wailing away and I barely heard a sound. I just looked at her in disbelief. I turned to Priya wanted to share the moment with her (i.e. hand Kiran to her) but they said she wasn't able to take her yet. She was still being patched up and would have to wait a few more minutes. Finally I was able to hand her to Priya and I almost enjoyed that as must as taking her from the doctor.

Over the next couple hours I spent my time sharing the amazement of the moment with Priya, waiting for the clean-up, then taking a few visitors, calling my family, etc. Eventually, near midnight, we moved to the maternity ward of the hospital. We were exhausted and hungry. I was looking forward to getting settled into the hospital room, having a bite to eat and sleeping. Little did I know, that's not how it works.

Starting from the time that we arrived in the room we had an almost constant stream of hospital staff coming in and out checking on Priya and Kiran. We had moments of sleep but nothing more than an hour or so at a time. By morning I felt almost worse than if I'd just stayed awake all night.

the tired mum

The next day we had more doctor's visits and more guests. Spent more time staring at our child. Seemed like the day went fast for some reason. The next night we ended up getting more sleep as there was less poking and prodding to do. By mid-morning we were cleared to check out though we couldn't actually get out of there until around 2:30pm. There were a large number of new babies on the same schedule we were, all checking out around the same time.

The Adventure Begins
I had heard that it might be weird to drive away from the hospital with our new human being. I've heard and read accounts of people suddenly feeling the responsibility of the first born once outside the protective surveillance of doctor. In my case I felt more freedom than burden of responsibility. I'd become a bit annoyed by the frequency of people tapping on the door, coming in to check this or change that. The care we had was wonderful but unlike the days when you had an assigned nurse who did most of what you needed, nowadays there are specialists for everything and almost zero coordination or predictability as to when they come to do their thing. The two biggest consequences: 1) the baby gets disturbed more frequently than necessary and our ability to begin establishing a rhythm had to be abandoned and 2) we, particularly Priya, were wiped out from lack of sleep and it was as if all effort was put into making sure that we had no blocks of time long enough for a proper sleep.

twelve hours old

So with our newfound freedom, Kiran in car seat, we headed north from Louisville back to Indiana. It had been a surreal 2 ½ days. Our couple had now turned into a family. Life will never be the same.

Geneva to Idaho

2011-07-09T02:40:00.002+03:00

Ok, so it's been a long time since I've posted something. It's been rather busy to say the least.

Since the last entry, I wrapped up a very intense time of preparation for being gone for longer than a month. After a week in Geneva, I was to go to the US for four weeks.

Geneva was an interesting week of meetings and a presentation at the UN High Commission for Refugees. It's a long story but the invitation came largely from our work in Tanzania in 2009-2010 and some good work we did, particularly Priya, in a transition to their results-based management standards and indicators. It's likely that it wasn't the most riveting topic of the week but it is important and I think it went pretty well. It was also good to see a bunch of people in Geneva that I haven't seen for a while.

From Switzerland I caught a plane to Idaho for a week of fun in the great outdoors. I only have a few days since I need to get to the Midwest to see Priya, whom I haven't seen in almost 2 months. You see, this isn't just any vacation. After a week of playing in Idaho, I'll be joining Priya in Indiana for the birth of our baby girl.

Up to now I've not mentioned it in the blog. Initially it was for general caution but thereafter it was mostly just that I didn't get around to it. Not to say we aren't excited about it. We're crazy excited though some of the fun of late has been dampened by the fact that I've been separated from my beloved wife for what seems like forever. More on that later since I catch my plane tomorrow.

For now a brief recap of my time in Idaho. The morning after I arrived, it was off to the camping trip. Our destination was north of Sun Valley, an area we know quite well since our family has been going there for three generations. Over the next few days close to twenty family members would gather for mountain biking, hiking, eating, jogging, road cycling, etc. I didn't end up with much down time but it was a lot of fun.

at the campground

riding among the Sawtooth Mountains

Curtis' photo - stopping to catch the view (and our breath)

From there it was off to Kimberly where my parents live. There was a bit more down time there though we did spend a day touring around the valley. Good to be a tourist in an area where you grew up.


yet another photo of Shoshone Falls

Kylie beneath Balanced Rock

Then it was back to Boise for a bit more biking and running last minute errands. Dinner last night in a cool restaurant, farewells and so forth. The short and sweet trip to Idaho comes to an end. Lots more interesting and funny stuff to recount but I don't have time. You'll just have to take this as it is for now.

the Boulder Mountains as seen by my new camera

Minister’s Visit

2011-06-12T21:45:00.003+03:00

A little over a week ago we hosted a large delegation to visit some of our organization's work. It was the largest of such visits I've had and fortunately all went well. It's a bit nerve-wracking. High-level people require a certain amount of protocol and have the ability to change whatever they want whenever they want. If you have several joining together, you just multiply the risk.

The key figure in this delegation was the Belgian Vice-Prime Minister/Foreign Minister. The Belgians play an important role in this part of the world and this guy is the point person. I'd read about him before his arrival. Even before meeting him I thought he might be interesting. In addition to a remarkable CV of course, he seemed like the kind of guy who speaks his mind. And he is.

Wasn't a great day for my communications guy so photos are a bit weak - US ambassador being briefed by our governance staff

Planning was a bit tricky in that the US ambassador was part of the delegation. Our US government-funded projects were in a different area from where we were going with the Belgians. In the end we created a "pre-visit" with the ambassador prior to joining the other group who was in a separate convoy arriving slightly later.

Security was a big issue. One of the reasons we agreed with the Belgians and Americans on this particular area (we have activities funded by them in other parts of the country) was that it is a volatile rural region surrounding the capital. According to what I've heard from staff, much of the fighting during the civil war took place in this region. Even today it is the least stable part of the country with a high proportion of violent crime and what some are calling "rebel attacks". The government is calling the violence banditry trying to portray itself as an emerging rebellion. Whatever you call it, it's not good and many are living in fear.

Just to be clear, in spite of the menacing look, the fear-inspiring pose and the US flag on his t-shirt, this is NOT a US security officer.

Our focus, then, is to do what we can to support this population and the local government. The theory is if we can generate an impact here, it may play a role in staving off some of the bitterness that's contributing to the violence. And they are definitely a region that can use the help – one of the poorest areas in one of the poorest countries on the planet.

The Belgians came equipped with a solid team of tough-looking guys with suits, earpieces, crumb-catcher beards and eyes darting back and forth behind their shades as they scanned the crowds as we went. They looked pretty bad-ass, I have to say. I felt protected, even more so since I road with the US ambassador in her armored Land Cruiser. That's one sweet vehicle. It weighs a couple tons and drives more like a limo than an SUV but it's well built for its purpose. Her head of security told me a bit about its security features which are quite cool but I'm sure there are a lot of other cool things built into it.

As we entered the villages, it was quite the scene. I'm used to creating a stir pulling into rural villages but this was something these people are unlikely to see for quite some time. In addition to three ambassadors and the Belgian Foreign Minister and their respective security teams, there was a large entourage which included a van full of journalists who travel with the BFM around the globe. On top of that we had our staff vehicles and a number of Burundian government officials and their corresponding security team. More suits and guns than a Godfather movie.

Not a great photo but it does show an atypical day in the village - Belgian ambassador partially in the photo on the left, US ambassador speaking with the BFM left of center; I'm behind him as we follow the security guys.

Overall it went well. There were no major mishaps and my conversations with the BFM and the ambassadors seemed to convey that they were happy to see the work being done. It's one thing to read reports and yet another to see for yourself. In fact the following evening at a reception at the Belgian ambassador's residence, the BFM mentioned his appreciation for the visit. In fact, I got an email from the US ambassador afterwards not only thanking me for the visit but looking to organize another. Very cool, not just for them to see the work that we're doing in the field but also to use these visits to generate further donor interest in the country. As the BFM said, the country is not a "donor darling" and that's not likely to change anytime soon. Tough to get attention when so many countries are in need of similar assistance, particularly ones in this neighborhood.

Event Full

2011-06-05T22:57:00.001+03:00

It's Wednesday as I'm writing this. I won't have a chance to post it for a while but I have a chance to write and I'm taking advantage of it. I'm attending an event similar to ones I've attended by the dozens. This one is a bit more upscale given that the 1^st VP and several other important people are here (and all were on time, something that would never happen in TZ).

There are lots of cameras flashing here and there, capturing the faces of all the heads of organizations and notable guests. In fact, as I'm penning this a camera is an uncomfortable one meter from my face (NB: apparently that was on the news that night).

I find it interesting here that with all the attention to detail for some things given the high-level crowd, there are some other fun quirks that apparently jump out at me more than others. For example, considerable attention is given to seating protocols and the entrance and exit of the VP are very well organized. As he takes his place at the "high table" however, he's sitting directly below a large, framed picture of the president which is ajar, partially leaning up next to a mounted air conditioner. I'm probably the only one here who notices such things. I was in a waiting area at UNHCR with our organization's president a couple months ago and each of us noted that a framed poster on the wall next to us was ajar. I made a comment and he said he'd already noticed it, in fact he couldn't take it anymore and went over and fixed it. I probably would have but you never know how people are going to interpret your OCD. Now I know I'm safe with the big guy.

Now there's a slide presentation. Pretty well done. However yet another faux pas, at least in my opinion. The VP and the entire head table all had to get up and move around to a place where they could see the presentation. A corner-mounted screen would have avoided such an unnecessary move. Not a big deal for lower level events but shouldn't happen for this. So sayeth me.

An entertainer has been performing He's in traditional attire and he's doing his thing in Kirundi. He's apparently very good (and funny) though most of the people in my section of the room (heads of NGOs) are non-Kirundi speakers. Too bad. He seems to be a hit with the Burundians. He's just finished and he's launching into a sort of shriek. It's a tradition here. I don't claim to fully understand it but basically it's a sound that is then echoed by the crowd. Then the initiator does it again but generally a bit longer and with a different intonation. In my experience this goes on no more than two or three times and the last one is usually a drawn out shriek that of course provokes giggles. That's funny in and of itself – the fact that this tradition has been going on since before these people were born yet the drawn out shriek always provokes some laughter.

Probably the most amazing aspect of this event (which is now about to draw to a close), is that everything has been on time. Almost exactly. Very impressive in my book. Now, I am off to prepare for the upcoming visit to our projects tomorrow by the US and Belgian Ambassadors and the guest of honor, the Belgian Foreign Minister.

Uno de Mayo

2011-05-16T09:19:00.000+03:00

I was reminded that Cinco de Mayo was being celebrated week before last in the US and Mexico – yet another mysterious holiday where few of the revelers even know what it is. As usual, Americans cranked it up a notch and moved it in a different direction from what it was originally. It's not all bad. A toast to the people and culture on the other side of that growing wall we are building.

serious fun

Here we recognized May Day, a few days before. It's also a bit of a mystery as to what it is exactly but it generally has morphed into an international workers day. The US downplays it since they have their own Labor Day at a different time of year (put that in with all the other things America does differently like miles, Fahrenheit, am/pm, calendars that begin with Sunday, writing the date where the month comes first, etc.) though it apparently was a bigger deal at one time. I do remember learning something about it in elementary school in which there was a May pole with traditional dancers encircling it with ribbons. Not sure I ever really knew what the day was about. In any case, Americans find tipping back margaritas more fun than dancing around a pole. Fair enough.

Here in Burundi it's surprisingly an important day. It is generally a holiday for workers and many, if not most, employers host some sort of celebration for staff. Such was the case for us. I should admit that our "union" representative had to send me an email to notify me of this custom. It's sort of like notifying a friend of your birthday and suggesting he throw a party for you. I don't mind, of course, that I'm notified of such things since it'd be a considerable faux pas to neglect to do so and there are still a lot things I have to learn about local customs. I'll bet he helps me to remember next year as well.

So I suggested that staff organize their own party and the organization picks up the tab. At least that way they have something they will enjoy and I'm not good at such things anyway. They chose a rather simple place, somewhere I'd never been, and it worked out quite well. Most of the hundred or so Bujumbura-based staff turned up early Monday afternoon to the outdoor café/restaurant.

There was, however, the Tanzania flashback when I saw that the plastic chairs were oddly arranged around the perimeter of the facility (rather than around the tables) seemingly intended to limit staff interaction. It also made it awkward for people to use the tables for their drinks and to eat. I saw this sort of thing in TZ a lot. The other anti-social arrangement that is common is having the chairs in rows all facing forward. This comes with a head table (or "high table") normally donned with plastic flowers and often times with colored ribbons and, when possible, placed up on a stage. Anyway, we chose to slide our chairs around to make things easier.

I was only about a half-hour late for the scheduled start which meant I arrived before most people. Priya accompanied me, her first time to meet most of the staff, and it was a pretty enjoyable afternoon. I do like the team here and there's a tremendous wealth of character and experience that comes through in conversations. I often ask those who remained in country throughout the civil war what it was like for them and their families given that I've never experienced such a thing. There are so many examples of tragedy but also personal resolve and triumph. The country is moving forward but it is still in a precarious state. So many years of fighting and animosity create a hangover that is tough to shake – particularly with a younger generation that's never really known anything else.

It will take considerable hard work and continued sacrifice to move this country forward. Hats off to this group of people who are doing their part. Cheers.

The Political Stuff Isn’t All Bad

2011-05-05T20:59:00.000+03:00

So my streak of weekly postings didn't last. Not to say that there hasn't been anything going on.

Overall the security situation in the country remains fairly good. Still hearing gun shots occasionally, some even during the day, but overall it's not bad. In my daily security reports I do see some things that are a bit worrisome but nothing that would point to a larger scale concern. So we carry on with the day to day.

Over the past couple of weeks my job has taken more of a political turn. My position has a lot of aspects to it from bureaucracy (paperwork and signing things), to problem solving (logistics, finance, programs), to human resources (talking through staffing issues), to coordination (other organizations, donors, etc.), to politics. This last one is not always my favorite and one that needs to be handled with a bit of care.

One event was a meeting with a high level government official who has a significant amount of influence over what we do. Without entering into specifics (sorry, might be in the book), I can say that it was productive and we were able to clarify things from both sides. Hard to say how clear he really is on what we are doing but the more he knows, the better. There are a lot of promising things going on in this country.

Then a meeting with the US Ambassador last Thursday. No big surprises but there are some particular concerns about the current and potential inflation rate. In a small, land-locked country with no real shipping access except by truck, rises in oil prices have an impact on the price of almost everything. It's also been noticed that there is a direct correlation between price rises and criminality. Since peoples' ability to pay doesn't increase as fast as prices, desperation sets in. To make matters worse, marketers tend to crank it up a notch when consumption drops. All this pushes individuals to want (need) things they can't afford. Recipe for trouble. More to come.


Nelson, thanks for a lot of things, including the party

That evening was South African Freedom Day celebration hosted by the SA Embassy, the first of a couple of suit and tie affairs. The annual holiday is a celebration of the first non-racial democratic elections in 1994. The location was the Ambassador's residence which is a sweet piece of property with a panorama view of the city of Bujumbura and Lake Tanganyika. The one problem with the view is the unfortunate construction of a big apartment building right in the middle of the panorama. I'd be more than a little angry by the whole thing but zoning laws seemed to be something that wealthy countries can afford to have.

After a nice evening with the South Africans, ambassadors, government ministers, etc., the next night was a similar event with similar faces but hosted by the Dutch. The occasion was Queen's Day, a celebration in honor of the Queen of the Netherlands. Rumor has it it's in honor of her birthday which is…uh…January 31^st. Makes sense. Maybe I'll celebrate my birthday in November just for kicks.

Actually, the date is more closely associated with her ascension to the throne. The fact that it falls at a more agreeable time of the year to host barbeques makes it a better time to celebrate your "birthday" – worth considering if you're celebrating in Amsterdam.

Celebrating her birthday whenever the heck she wants

Even if the Dutch are a little flexible with their calendars, they know how to host a party. The food was SO good. Herring, cheese, some sort of yummy deep fried something or other, chocolate truffles, etc. Not exactly health food but all I have to say is, "Long live the queen."

Tragic Landing in Kinshasa

2011-04-18T18:17:00.000+03:00

For the last few months we'd been planning to bring in a senior reproductive health adviser from our Congo country office to conduct some workshops on clinical management of rape. While we have a rather robust gender-based violence sector (now called Women's Protection and Empowerment), we don't have a health program. What is critically missing in this country, one of many things, is the linkage between providing counseling and support for women who have been victims of violence and the potential health care necessary as a result of the violence. It's a relatively complex situation that can bring devastating consequences if handled poorly.

While in Tanzania we did have a health care operation in the refugee camps – actually a rather large one when I was there. We had four health centers (one in each of the camps), clinical officers, nurses, etc. etc. We also had a pretty strong GBV program as well but we constantly had to work on the linkage between the two in support for survivors of these violent attacks. As time went by we expanded that effort to the surrounding communities such that this remote part of the country, the region hosting the refugee camps, would benefit from our expertise in spite of being a particularly neglected area of the country (there were some bad consequences for Tanzanians subjected to living near the refugee camps which were imposed on them but there were also some benefits).

A week ago Monday a Bombardier CRJ-200 left Goma in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo headed for the capital, Kinshasa, in the western part of the country. It was a UN plane carrying passengers that were mostly aid workers and peace keepers working in the DRC. Thirty-two of the thirty-three passengers died. One of the passengers, sadly enough, was the man who we'd been working with to come and spend two weeks carrying out these workshops.

Dr. Boubacar Toure was due to arrive in Bujumbura the following Sunday and I was to meet with him on Monday. Dr. Toure, "Bouba" as he's known and as I'd come to know him in emails, was a 63-year-old native of Guinea and an internationally recognized leader in the maternal health field. He was deeply committed to reversing high levels of maternal mortality in Congo and other countries where he has worked. He oversaw an extensive reproductive health care program in four war-impacted provinces. He is survived by his wife, Salamantou, four children and one grand-child.

It's been a sad time for my colleagues in the DRC and a sad time for all the families and friends of those impacted by the crash. Given the nature of the work and the sometimes harsh conditions of aid work, it's surprising how rare such accidents are. But in my opinion, the pilots in sub-Saharan Africa are some of the most amazing on the planet. We had several pilot friends in Tanzania and though they had some crazy stories of close calls and questionable flying conditions, they all seemed to be great at what they do and possessed a considerable respect for their fellow aviators. In the many dozens of hours I've had flying in small and large planes here, I've never felt in danger - at least nothing REAL serious. There was, I suppose, that tire blowout landing in Dar es Salaam flying from Kigoma a while back which could have been ugly. In general, though, I've been impressed with the quality of air travel here – certainly compared to what I had expected before I came. It's not clear if the Kinshasa accident was preventable or not but that won't change things for Bouba and the 31 others. Our thoughts and prayers are with their families and friends.

Seismic Activity

2011-04-10T15:51:00.003+03:00

Last Saturday we were awoken by a shaking of the bed. Actually I was already awake but I wasn't in any hurry to get up. The shaking was accompanied by noise and after a few seconds it was clear to me that this was an earthquake.

I've been through several earthquakes, including the first one I experienced in Idaho back October 28^th, 1983. Also in the early morning hours, it was 6.9 quake with an epicenter near Mt. Borah, Idaho's highest peak. It produced some rather spectacular surface faulting that is still very visible today. Though 200 kilometers from my apartment in Boise, it caused a significant amount of shaking.

Later while living in California, a place known for seismic activity, we felt them quite regularly. With the San Andreas fault a short distance away from my house in Pacific Grove, there was always that great rumor that at some point the "big one" would happen and the chunk of land to the west of the fault would go tumbling into the ocean.

This Burundi quake was much less significant in magnitude (4.8) but what made it interesting is that it was the closest I've been to a quake's epicenter. This one was only about 50 kilometers (27 miles) southeast of Bujumbura and thus allowed us to get the most of our 4.8. I haven't heard anything about damage or injuries caused by the quake and I doubt there was much. Most construction here is single story and, though things are generally poorly built, a medium magnitude earthquake is unlikely to do much. However, a severe quake would.

On Monday I was off to Rwanda. I have to say, I'm growing rather fond of the place. Though I prefer Bujumbura to Kigali from an aesthetic point of view, there definitely is an attractiveness to the cleanliness, organization, safety and just general access to things in the Rwandan capital.

The trip was short due to my need to get back to Bujumbura for meetings. Also, Thursday, April 7^th was Rwanda's National Mourning Day, a time of remembrance and reflection of the seismic event which took place 17 years ago. It also kicks of Genocide Memorial Week. While I think it would be an interesting experience to be around during that time and learn more about how the country and its citizens, including our own staff, are working through this long and difficult healing process, my responsibilities don't afford me that luxury. It's simply not a good week for me to be there given the distractions to staff and the challenges to getting work done.

So my two colleagues, Felix and Jon, and I caught the 1:00am flight from Kigali to Bujumbura. It's not a pleasant time to travel and I'd tried to get away on a previous afternoon flight but it was cancelled (happens often around here). Misery loves company and the three of us endured the late hours, the very short night's sleep and the full day of work the following day. Fortunately, the weekend lay in waiting.

A High-level Visit

2011-04-03T19:16:00.000+03:00

It's a rainy tropical Sunday afternoon. Priya's in our office doing her consulting work on a health program strategy in the DR Congo and I'm in the living room catching up on emails and occasionally gazing at the rain-soaked view of the town of Bujumbura. A rare moment to collect my thoughts.

Last week was quite busy. We had the visit of our organization's president, his wife and one of the board members. After considerable work and preparation, the visit finally came. We had been focusing on all kinds of other activities and in the spare time would make sure that all the planning was in place. I have to say, it's fairly stressful. I know the president fairly well and he's pretty easy going but just the same, these types of visits don't happen very often and you absolutely don't want something to go wrong while the delegation is in town.

Greeting some of the team in Makamba

Preparation actually began last year even before I came to Burundi. The team was initially intended to come in November but it had to be rescheduled due to some scheduling difficulties. It was actually a bit of a disappointment given the work that we'd all put in to making it happen. The work was not all wasted, of course, since we were able base our current plans on the previous effort. I took the lead in the beginning but when I left for NY and the regional meetings, I handed things over to my Administration Manager, Yvette. At that point she and the rest of the team did their thing and all I could do is hope that they were on top of things. They're quite good and I generally had nothing to worry about but you just never know how things are going to go.

Small child at Village Health Works

Our visitors arrived a week ago Thursday. We had needed to make some last minute changes to the itinerary due to information that we'd received that the ruling party was going to hold a big meeting, including the president of Burundi, the day we were supposed to be in Makamba. In the end their meeting didn't happen but given that things were already in motion, we carried on with the changes made. The biggest change was that rather than going to Makamba and returning the next day, we were going to carry on from there to Muyinga in the northeastern part of the country. Depending on how well you know your Burundian geography, something a very small fraction of the planet knows at all, the visit would now entail a trip around the entire country. As small as this country is, it's still a lot of driving. Burundi is roughly the same size (and population density) as Massachusetts and we were going to see a lot of it, including visits to activities, meetings and social gatherings, in two nights and less than three days. And last I checked there are no freeways.

Village savings and loan activity

George Rupp (our president), Nancy (his wife) and Allen Moore (long-standing member of the IRC board) arrived and we were able to welcome them to the VIP room in the airport. It's actually not that big of a deal but at least they do a lot of the paperwork for you and streamline you through security. Once free from the airport, we took them to the hotel to check in, gave them a security and trip briefing and then to the office to meet some of the staff. The rest of the day was program briefings and then a soiree of traditional drummers, drinks and food. So far so good.

The next morning we loaded up and hit the road. I don't have many photos to post since I was obviously busy with other things but I'll try to post some more later when I get some from others.
The first stop was a clinic that we have some ties with but not one we work with directly. They are a couple of hours outside of Bujumbura and, including the long, rainy, muddy drive up to the top of the hill where it is located, we were questioning a bit the wisdom in including that in the itinerary. As it turned out, the weather cleared up a bit and they gave us a very warm welcome. They also provided us some drummers which are, in some ways, fairly ubiquitous in this country where there are celebrations.

From there we visited a couple of our own projects, had some lunch in a lakeside restaurant and continued on to Makamba. We made a relatively quick visit of the offices, met some staff, did some stealth emails and then we proceeded on to the Makamba soiree. Almost every evening of the trip we would have some sort of big social gathering. It was important, though, since this type of visit doesn't happen often and it was important for the hundreds of staff to be able to meet and greet the president of their organization, in addition to many other local heads of organizations and government officials.

George, Nancy, Allen and me with the team in Muyinga

Saturday morning we were on the road again. We headed north through the central town of Gitega and on to Muyinga. It took the better part of the day and our arrival at the office more or less coincided with the office meet and greet followed by a dinner with senior staff at a local restaurant. By that time I was getting a bit fatigued. I don't think I was the only one since, thanks to everything starting quite early, we were all back at the guesthouse before 9pm and soon after that we were looking for our respective beds. I tried my best to catch up on the accumulating emails prior to fading but I don't think I got very far.

Sunday was a difficult day to schedule for obvious reasons. Given that refugee camp operations don't take days off, I'd decided that we'd do that for the morning prior to heading back to Bujumbura. We ended up staying longer than expected but it turned out well. We had the time so the delegation took a walk through the camp. It's not something I do very often and it was nice to take advantage of this occasion to do so. I ended up with a small posse of children tagging along by my side. One grabbed my finger as we walked. Soon I looked down and a second one had a hold of another of my fingers. Within a few minutes I had five kids in tow, not counting the numerous others not attached to me.

From there we headed back to Bujumbura. We were all pretty tired by the time got back and I was happy that we'd left the late afternoon and evening open. While our delegation went to the hotel, I headed home for a bit of respite. The next day would be full of meetings and I needed a break.

Monday the plan was to load the day with meetings. The idea was that after all the time in the field visiting activities and meeting staff, they'd have plenty of perspective for discussions with ambassadors, UN representatives and government ministers. Fortunately that's pretty much how it worked out. The meetings all went quite well and I was quite happy with the way the discussions went. Most of them I'd met before and this provided a good opportunity to have some focused conversations about common objectives. The day was capped off by another reception, this one inviting head of organizations and government representatives. It was fairly small, partially due to a fairly focused invitation list and partially due to some serious rain.

The final day was spent recapping, having some final meetings and so forth. I think everyone was pretty well spent so the atmosphere was a bit more casual. I was able to thank my team for a well-organized five days and also to George, Nancy and Allen who provided a great boost to the staff and to our presence here in the country. We're an organization in about 40 countries with thousands of staff around the world. With all of the other troubled spots getting most of the attention, it's easy to forget the immense challenges in a place like this. But the challenges these people face in this somewhat forgotten country are very real and anything we can do to raise the profile and contribute to getting them some help, it's worth the effort.

Switz/France

2011-03-27T20:21:00.001+03:00

Most times when things come at me hard and fast. Putting it all the interesting things in a blog would be impossible. I'm obviously way behind but I'll try to catch up a bit, all the while knowing that I'll just never get to some of it.

Switzerland/France

One of the things I wanted to mention was my trip to Switzerland after I was in NY for a week. I realized today that I've been too busy to include it. So here it is.

the old city of Lausanne

I arrived in Geneva a few weeks ago on a Saturday. After the long week of meetings and all that led up to it, it was a wonderful thought to be taking a couple days off. It's not much in the grand scheme of things but it was something that I was SO looking forward to. Plus, it's been years since I've been in Switzerland. In fact I was trying to remember the last time I was there (other than an extended layover visit to the city of Zurich a couple of years ago). Because of my anal photo archive I was able to look it up. My last trip to Lausanne was in the spring of 2002 when I went to Paris to do the Paris Marathon with my friends Eve, Penny, Peter, Lauren and Brian. A very cool trip, I must say. But at one point the group sort of went in different directions and I was able to squeeze in a very quick trip to my old stomping grounds. I don't remember much about what we saw or where we went but I do remember visiting my old friends Les and Veronique and making a quick trip up to the Ecole Nouvelle – the place where I worked and, for the most part, lived for eight years.

me in front of the main building of my old school

Skiing!

Back to the present. So this trip began with a nice dinner in Priya's sister Liz's town of Ferney Voltaire, just across the border into France from Geneva. Jet lag wasn't much of a problem having just arrived from NY and, by the next morning we were off to ski at a resort a couple of hours away in the French Alps. Les Contamines is a resort that is not well known outside of France. Nonetheless it is a fantastic location on the flipside of Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in Europe, from the famous ski area of Chamonix.

me with Europe's highest mountain in the background

I have been through the area once but I hardly remember it at all. I'd never been to Les Contamines but I have to say it's excellent. It's a great mountain without all of cost and fluff of the famous Chamonix. I would definitely go again.

Liz's friends were headed up that Sunday anyway and there were able to lend me some ski clothes which worked out great. In fact we ended up being a group of about eight. So much fun. By about 11:00 I was swooshing down the slopes on the back side of Mont Blanc the day after arriving from NY. Very cool. After a rather freezing start, the day was sunny and absolutely beautiful. The snow was average towards the bottom but quite good on the higher slopes. I could have cared less. I was just happy to be there.

Lausanne

The next day we took a trip to Lausanne. I was kind of excited to see it again. We went directly to the school and drove into the parking area. There were a few changes from the last time I was there. A new building and a few new construction additions were the obvious changes but the feel of the place was the same. We went to the reception and I spoke to the secretary. A photo on the wall surprisingly revealed to me that probably a fourth of the faculty were the same as they were in the mid-90's when I left. One had become the director. Though very tempted to seek out some of them to reconnect, school was in session and I didn't want to drag out the visit by trying to hunt down and enter into long conversations with all of these people from my past. We had a lot to do and I decided it was best to carry on with our visit of the city. Maybe next time.

the cathedral in Lausanne with Priya and Liz

Afterward it was off to the old city. It was Monday and my favorite creperie was, sadly, closed. We walked around a bit and nonetheless found a good place to eat some traditional Swiss cuisine. We then headed down the hill towards the lakeside part of the city called Ouchy (like "ooshie"). I used to hang out there a lot back in the day. We walked around a bit, took some photos, had another bite to eat and then decided to head back to Ferney.

above the cathedral door

dinner in Geneva

That evening we hooked up with a friend and colleague from our time in Tanzania, Lara, who's now living in Geneva. Cracked me up but on the way we ran into a guy I know (from TZ and Burundi) who also had recently moved to Geneva. I know it's not that large of a city but I thought that was a pretty random encounter. I've had a few of those in my day. One was when my brother and parents were visiting me while I was living in Brussels. We had gone to London and on a random street corner a guy came up to me and said "Richard?" with a French accent. Turns out it was a former student of mine from several years before. I've had a few others and probably would have had more if I was better at remembering people's faces.

lunch with Nicolas and his mother

The next day was spent hanging out in and around Geneva. I don't have the same love affair with Geneva as I do Lausanne but it was still fun.
One interesting and rather enjoyable lunch we had was with a former student of mine from Lausanne and his mother. I hadn't seen Nicolas since 1995 and a lot happens to a 13-year-old in 16 years. Liz works with Nic's mother and they'd somehow figured out the connection. I have to say, it was really cool to see him. Certainly he'd changed a lot and as he walked up to the restaurant, I wasn't even sure this was the little kid I used to know. However as he walked up to the table and smiled, there was no question that the chubby little kid I knew was now the poorly shaved, buff adult that was shaking my hand. At least he told me I hadn't changed since he last saw me except for the gray hair. I think he was being polite.

Wisdom is Coming

2011-03-09T20:54:00.003+03:00

Amsterdam has been one of my favorite blog writing locations. I'm here frequently and it's often a rare moment where I have time and internet access. I don't have much time but I have a few minutes here in the lounge to briefly mention the past week.

I've been in NY for our regional meetings. It was probably the most helpful of any of my trips to HQ. Very practical in nature and I definitely think that we are all the better for it. The days were full and quite tiring. Most mornings I was out running along the East River, to Central Park and back to the hotel. Evenings were normally spent catching up on things back in Burundi. And so was my routine.

The week began inauspiciously. Monday morning I headed down to the meeting room lobby to greet the many friends and colleagues. I poured my much-needed coffee and went in to the meeting room to have a seat. As I sifted through my folder reviewing our documentation, two colleagues behind me greeted each other with a handshake. How it happened I don't know but the handshake proceeded to also shake the coffee cup in the hand of one of them such that about half the cup went streaming onto my left shoulder and down my back. The scalding, dark brown liquid did a number on both my skin as well as my shirt. Everyone makes mistakes. Could have been me, particularly since I have a long-standing reputation for spilling things. Anyway, I quietly stood up and went up to my room to change. Fortunately the burn was minimal and the shirt cleaned up nicely.

Dinner with Liya

On Thursday night I went to dinner with our friend Liya who now lives in NYC. While I had intended on doing some walking to get to her place way up in Harlem, the cold evening and late start prevented me from doing so. As such I was able to partake of the NY subway. I rarely take the train while in NY since I much prefer to walk – as much as thirty blocks or so if I have the time. This time was different and, in addition to getting me to my destination sooner, the journey reminded me of that world that exists beneath the surface.

I find it interesting that the subway is generally such an emotion-less place in contrast to most other places that contain masses of people. Few people make eye contact and there is not a great deal of conversation. It's an immense collection of people flowing in and out of tunnels, most of whom, like me, wanted to be left alone.

On Friday we finished mid-afternoon. I mixed in a few last minute individual meetings and as darkness approached I caught my cab for the airport. My Sudanese driver was curious about my work in East Africa and I gave him the basics of what I do. Then I turned the conversation on him and asked him about the future of his country. He appeared to me to be from the north (which he was) and I was curious regarding his thoughts about the future of the region with the recent decision by the southern part of the country to secede. As we pulled up to a red light he looked at me as intently as you can through a rear view mirror in the dark and said that the secession was a good thing. He noticed my raised eyebrows and continued by saying that this was the only way that there would be peace. I asked him about the shared claims by the north and the south of the large oil reserves. He said that would be worked out. "There is enough for everyone and they will come to an agreement." "You know," he continued, "in Sudan they did the right thing. They put the decision in the hands of the people without waiting for the people to force the government to allow them to decide as in North Africa. The leaders showed more dignity."

I told him that he was wise and that maybe he should go back to Sudan and go into politics to help his country. He laughed and said, "In most of Africa politics has nothing to do with wisdom. Only power." I looked up at his eyes in the rear view mirror and smiled. "But," he said, "wisdom is coming."

Under the Mango Tree

2011-02-28T15:44:00.001+03:00

I recently read about a blogger in the US who has turned blogging into a career. You might not say that's interesting except she now has about 100,000 readers on a given day while writing about her kids, her husband, her pets, her treatment for depression and her life as a liberal ex-Mormon living in Utah. I think that's interesting. By talking about poop, spit-up and washing machine repairs she has not only kept an audience, she's become wildly popular. I've yet to check it out but my guess is that she's an awfully good writer. And it's stuff to which a lot of people can relate. Unlike most of the things that I write about.

Since my last posting quite a bit has happened. I traveled to Makamba with some representatives from the US government to look at some of our projects. Good visit overall and they're nice to hang out with. I've known a couple of them for a few years so I suppose it makes it easier to know what their expectations are and how they want to spend their time.

The lady running the show

One of the projects we visited was a savings and loan activity. I had visited one before in Makamba but this was one I hadn't been to. The basic drill is the same. The concept is that we provide them the training and some resources to carry out the S&L activity but they use their own seed money to launch it. This way once they know what they are doing and it becomes sustainable and we can walk away. So far the activities have generally been successful. The pot of funds starts off understandably quite small but grows as each month people pay their small dues. Individuals (groups range from about 15 to 25 or so) are able to borrow against the pot to finance small enterprise activities and then must pay the money back after a certain period of time. There is a whole structure in place with small financial penalties for late reimbursement, prioritization of who receives money, etc. The way the money is counted and stored is tightly controlled (ex. two separate people count, three keys for the lock box held by three different people) help to remove some of the temptation for foul play. Though there has been a case where the lock box "went missing", there has been little problem of that sort so far.

Spectators

As I said, the cool thing is that it is sustainable and does not require outside funding to keep it going. The down side economically is that it really doesn't add anything to the economy. It's not an infusion of new resources which is what they also need. Nonetheless, it does position themselves to be productive as the economy gradually (very gradually) moves forward. It also provides hope to people who are in a very desperate situation. This particular group was almost entirely made up of former refugees to fled to Tanzania during the civil war. They are now trying to find a way to put food on the table in a country largely dependent on agriculture as people who lost their land while living in exile. It's messy and sad. Our efforts are positive and real but they are small relative to the overall need.

Masonry skills training project

On a lighter note, one thing that was vividly apparent when we arrived was that they knew we were coming. We pulled in and got out of our vehicles. As we walked around a small mud house to where the S&L activity was being held, we were all a bit startled by the bold yellow t-shirts (our organization colors) with American flags on the sleeves (from a previous event apparently). In this charming, natural, tropical setting beneath a very old mango tree near the shores of Lake Tanganyika, it was something that probably could have been seen from a satellite.

Always fun to watch white visitors to the village

I had told staff recently that they need to be conscious of "branding" when there are visitors and it should not be void of any indication of who we are and who is providing the funding but this was pretty much in your face. I smiled as we walked up telling our guests that this is how these people dress all the time. We all enjoyed the very sincere effort on their part – but l left my sunglasses on. I should add that, though it was clearly over the top, one of the photos they took at this little gathering beneath the mango tree in a small corner of Burundi did end up in a US State Department publication.

A sea of yellow

Change in the Air

2011-02-09T09:25:00.002+03:00

On the Continent

Change is in the air on the African continent. Not sure if there's ever been a time when you couldn't say but there is some serious stuff going on right now. Egypt is in turmoil as its president since 1981 is on the verge of getting the boot. That's huge. Even if you're not Egyptian. It's an entire generation that has only known one person as their leader. I think that's worth stopping and thinking about. Then there's Tunisia who is sorting itself out in a big way, actually a precursor to the Egyptian chaos. Its president was delivered his walking papers after being at the helm since 1987. Craziness. This all seems to be causing ripples of revolt, or potential revolt, elsewhere. Then you have the official announcement this week that the people of southern Sudan have voted for independence – a move that will divide what was the largest country in Africa. I don't have much experience in founding countries but my guess is that those folks have a big job ahead. I assume that it's more than just choosing a national anthem and a national cooking pot. And then there's that tricky little issue of a border cutting across the oil fields. Finally the standoff continues in the Côte d'Ivoire. President A was voted out while President B starts his new job in a hotel protected by the UN, the army mostly backing A while most of the country and the rest of the world is backing B. If that whole thing doesn't end up in a war then it's going to be a miracle.

This is all history in the making. As many Westerners ponder the Oscar nominations and the results of the recent Super Bowl, things that pretty much leave our minds once they're over, countries and the lives of their citizens are being turned upside down. Ever since I first stuck my nose outside the borders of the US, I've been blown away by the amazing events happening around the world that appear, at best, as sound bites in most Western news sources. There's very little time devoted to analysis. People get a few seconds of what's going on and before anyone can really think about it or grasp the ramifications of the events, it's on to the next story about a kitten in Iceland that was born with five legs.

And in Burundi

In the scope of history, things here are also under dramatic change – only not quite as drastic as those above. No one is digging the pavers from the streets, smashing them and then throwing the bits of brick at their neighbors a hundred meters away. It is significant though. After many years of civil war, a 2006 ceasefire, the elections last year, we are now in the critical phase as to whether or not the peace is going to hold. Increasing unrest in recent weeks has made many nervous that something nasty may be brewing. The government states that things are generally ok and chalks it up to banditry. It's hard to say what's going on but it's safe to say that we are all keeping a close eye on things.

And so our projects move forward. Things are actually going quite well and I'm happy with the efforts of the team. We are fully integrated into the Congolese refugee camps in the Eastern part of the country. Our child protection, youth and livelihoods projects are exciting and I'll be visiting the latter tomorrow and Friday with some people from the US government. Our governance, gender-based violence and women's empowerment efforts are particularly interesting and provide another reason to believe that we are contributing to positive change in the country. Regardless of whether you believe we are patching a boat that is headed for an iceberg or if this is just a stretch of rough water, you have to keep your perspective. Someone in this line of work has to keep one foot firmly planted in cynicism and the other in idealism. To lean too heavily in one direction or the other is not healthy and you probably won't last very long. And now, back to the task at hand.

I Must Be Missing Something

2011-01-31T22:59:00.004+03:00

I generally don't rant in this blog even though I thought I would years ago when I set it up. So, maybe today I'll rant.

Boom in the Night
Last Friday at 1:30 in the morning we were awoken to what sounded like someone pounding on the door. Given that we live in a walled compound, you don't get anyone knocking at your door except guards. Assuming that was the case this time, I got up, wondering what the heck was going on, and made my way sleepily yet nervously to find out.

As I got to the door I found no one there. I looked around and didn't see anyone for a few minutes. Finally I saw one of the guards and, though he was awake and walking around, he didn't give me any indication that he'd been to the door. In fact it turned out to be gunfire. It was apparently close enough to make it sound like a loud pounding on a door on the other side of the house from our bedroom (i.e. close by).

Unfortunately it's not unusual to hear gunfire in Bujumbura or even an occasional hand grenade explosion (though this seemed particularly close). The next night (Friday) we heard an explosion of some kind and I found out on Monday that it was in fact a hand grenade. Such is life in our new town.

Guns and Roses
I occasionally peruse the website of the local paper where I grew up. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to do this but I do feel a strong attachment to my roots and I do love the simplicity of small town America.

An article I spotted on the weekend coming from the nearby state of Utah caught me a bit off guard. It said that the state's lawmakers were devoting time to the discussion of the designation of a state gun. Huh?! I suppose that for some this does not appear to be absurd. Honoring weaponry through the legislative process? Granted, I'm particularly sensitive about this since I live in a country where people don't have the luxury of spending time getting pedicures for poodles and butt implants. The citizens of this country are often in a battle to put food on the table and avoid getting their few possessions robbed of them at gunpoint.

Now I understand the need to recognize symbols regarding history, geography and culture. In fact most people that know me well understand that I'm fascinated by history and feel like peoples' lack of understanding of the past contributes to some of the stupid decisions people make today. I've even been known to hunt back in the day and it generally doesn't bother me if people own guns (except of course the crazy people in rich countries and desperate people in poor countries). But to tap into the state legislative system and use the supposed valuable time of legislators to review in committee, debate in the House, pose for photos, vote, etc. regarding the state's legal honor of a handgun is without a doubt ludicrous. Apparently previous time wastage by the state has resulted in, among other things, the legal establishment of a state cooking pot and a state folk dance. I'm sorry I missed out on the floor debate of the Utah House of Representatives when the merits of the cooking pot were under heated discussion.

In a time when a Congresswoman from another state is recovering from a head wound inflicted by a handgun and several others killed, the timing of such an honoring is at best bad taste. It's not about defending America's values and traditions and opposition is not about demonizing firearms. It's about the misuse of government time/resources and an obvious lack of respect. The state clearly has far more acute issues to deal with and if it doesn't, everyone should move there immediately.

My guess is that people's priorities get warped over time. It's helpful to step outside of your world sometimes to help you see things more clearly. The US often allows itself to become culturally isolated and sometimes very odd things start to seem normal because you don't have enough to compare it to. Security is a big issue in most countries around the world. Obviously here in Burundi it's a big deal. It's always the first agenda item in my coordination meetings with staff here and in my meeting with representatives from other organizations. I receive a handful of security reports every single day – most of which contain gruesome killings. And then there are those things that go boom in the night.

Weapons are everywhere in this country. Some are still here from the war and others are coming into the country every day. Many people live in fear. To imagine a place where government officials are all giggly about honoring a weapon escapes the imagination. If people really believe that guns don't kill, that it's the people that kill, then honoring a gun doesn't make sense. The state of Utah should spend its time honoring its police force or its veterans. Guns don't protect; people do.

A Gift from the Other Side

2011-01-24T09:25:00.001+03:00

One thing I don't pay much attention to with this blog is continuity. Maybe that's the case with most blogs. It's sort of whatever is on my mind at the time I sit down to draft it. The thoughts may have something to do with previous postings; they may not.

This time I do have something that relates to a previous posting. While in the US over the holidays, on the day we were to leave my parent's house, I was making one last check of the box that contains the mail I received over the past six months. Unfortunately my parents are subjected to my US mailings due to the fact that I have no other American residence. I had gone through most of it but there was still a book in an Amazon box that'd I'd seen earlier and didn't recognize. It was addressed to me but I the title didn't ring a bell. I have at times ordered books for Priya and had them sent to my parent's house. She will occasionally mention that she would really like to get such and such book and I'll jot down the title and order it, usually within that day for fear of forgetting that the conversation ever happened. Then it sits at my parent's house until the next time we arrive. When I get to the US and I see the book I remember that she wanted it at some point but I often don't remember much more than that. Nonetheless when she recognizes it, it can give the impression that I'm thoughtful.

But for the life of me I couldn't remember ordering this book at all. At the risk of ruining a surprise (and giving away my lack of thoughtfulness), I asked Priya. She did recognize the title but I was a bit relieved (and puzzled) that she couldn't remember why. I was off the hook.

The mystery didn't last long as Priya pulled out the paper that accompanies Amazon orders. Beneath the title, The Shantaram: A Novel, was a note. It said:

"Because sometimes flying as fast as we can is reason enough. Hope our paths cross again. Thanks again. Hendri."

Priya and I looked at each other for a couple of seconds a bit stunned by what we'd read. As my brain went through its paces to put it together it became clear that Hendri must have ordered this from Bujumbura three days before he died. The last trip postings for the kayak team were from when they were staying with us and it was the last place they'd had internet access before heading into the Congo.

It made me sad all over again. As I'd mentioned in that earlier blog, Hendri had said he was going to send something. Silly me for thinking he hadn't had the chance to live up to his word. He had.

It's tragic that we won't have the chance to meet up in Uganda as we'd planned. He left an impression on me the short time that I knew him. He was even able to impress me after his death.

Christmas 2010

2011-01-15T18:02:00.011+03:00

Ideally I'd set a goal for myself to update this thing weekly or so. Hasn't happened recently but I'll get back on track. Since the last posting there has obviously been a lot of activity. This isn't a diary so I don't feel the obligation to fill in all the gaps. I will say that the baggage finally arrived in Louisville and that put an end to the travel woes – at least for the time being.

Visiting Kathy in Minneapolis

Visit to glass blowing/art shop in Louisville

Isabelle: Are you talkin' to me?

The time in Indiana with family was just what was needed. With the exception of too much last minute Christmas shopping (gotta change that next year), there was some good relaxation, food and time to catch up with everyone.

The Satow siblings past and present

There was just one little incident involving a frozen pond, a nephew and some guy with poor motor skills. I won't name names but apparently this guy runs up to the pond in a feeble attempt to show the nephew how young he is. The resulting slide was not intended to include any sort of midair launch but that was inadvertently added for some added entertainment value. Anyway, the guy slams into the ice with a graceless thud. Not wanting to show that he had just crushed his ribcage, he gets up and does it again – this time without falling – though the damage was already done. Rumor has it he broke a rib and it would bother him for the next several weeks, long after he returned to Burundi. At least that's what he told me.

The next leg of the snowy adventure began the day after Christmas as we headed to Idaho. There are a couple dozen or so somewhat strange people that participate in our family holiday gathering. It took place in the suburban setting of my sister Lisa's and it never fails to be a good time. The traditional setting has been the semi-remote rustic log home of my other sister Cheryl's family but for the past couple of years we've gone suburban. We'll have to wait a few years before we pick up that tradition again (long story) but being in a city does have its advantages. Regardless of where the festivities happen, the goal is the same. Hang out with family, laugh a lot, eat a lot and open some gifts on the side.

Big snow; small wife in McCall

Much of the mob then headed north to the town of McCall for some winter sports and, of course, more food. My lil' sis and her husband have a condo there which served as the base for playing in the snow. College football served primarily as something to look at on TV while we were eating though there were actually some fun games to watch.

Priya and I were able to get in some downhill skiing though it was a much gentler day on the slopes than is normal for me. Neither of us were in a position to cut up the mountain on black diamond runs and thus cruised along enjoying the views and the fresh air.

View from Bogus (Boise)

Speaking of fresh air, some readers of this blog are located in the tropics and may not have an understanding of what I mean by "fresh". Just as an example, the first morning produced a balmy -19 degrees Celsius (-2 degrees Fahrenheit). We remained in single-digit temperatures the majority of the time we were there. Returning to Boise things warmed up considerably as it neared freezing.

Another killer Pat steak

I was able to sneak in one last ski venture in Boise (Bogus Basin) with Cheryl and my niece Regan. I have to say, the snow was absolutely amazing and the views were spectacular. Hard to capture on my little camera but it really was a great afternoon. Our "guide" Regan somehow drew us into two rib-busting black diamond slopes against her orders but it was nothing that some pain killers during the drive home couldn't handle. Highly worth it.

Comedy of Errors

2010-12-21T19:59:00.002+03:00

When I was in college I took a class on theater, cinema and society. One of the things we studied was the comedy. Not comedy as is understood by the popular modern definition tied mostly to humor but by the academic and more traditional definition. In very simplistic terms, a comedy contains variations on the elements of surprise, conflict, repetitiveness and the effect of opposite expectations. Our trip to the US was a comedy in the classic sense containing all of the above elements – particularly the last one.

We boarded our plane in Amsterdam and the comedy of errors began. We taxied out and proceeded to stay on the tarmac for the next 6 1/2 hours (without leaving the plane). They closed the airport while they were de-icing our wings but then couldn't get us off the plane since all the gates were occupied by airplanes and the ice on the tarmac was preventing the tow vehicles from being able to pull any of them away from their respective gates. Even the movable stairs were unable to come retrieve us due to the ice. So we sat. Fortunately they turned on the entertainment system and even served us a meal as we could see the terminal off in the distance.

When they were finally able to move the movable stairs, we were able to disembark and get into the terminal. What awaited us was pandemonium. The airport of full of thousands of desperate and angry people. Moreover we received no information so we didn't know where to proceed to deal with what came next. The transit/information desk had a queue that was over a kilometer long. Hotels were all booked. KLM staff were providing mixed, confused and errant information. We were told there was no possibility of being put on another plane until the next day - at the earliest. We were basically hosed with no indication as to when we'd get away. Long story short, we ended up joining the thousands who had plopped themselves on the cold floor someplace and settled in for the night. We had no pillow or blanket so we just made do with what we could find. About 4am I got up to walk around a bit. It was a surreal scene, I have to say. Thousands of bodies strewn about the airport. There was a bizarre stillness in a building I'd only known in hustle and bustle.

Our plan now was to get in line at the gate of any plane heading to North America. I jotted down the morning's flights on my unused boarding pass from the day before and we headed to the gate of the first one. Detroit. Not a bad option if we could pull it off. In addition to the thousands held hostage by the airport, thousands of people were unable to arrive in Amsterdam due to the closure so we knew we had a chance. Within an hour or so of queuing up, they canceled the flight. Our bad luck continued. On to the next gate. Detroit as well. After another hour or so, news came forward it was delayed. On to the next gate. Minneapolis. This time our luck held and the agents eventually arrived to do the security screening. It was looking promising. In the meantime the line behind us was now the length of a football field and as we neared the front I felt as though we were on the Titanic fighting for a spot on the insufficient life rafts. It made me wonder how I'd be in a life or death situation. Get the hell out of my way, women and children, we need to get to the US for the holidays! Hopefully I'd be different but all I knew at this point was that I was in no mood to let anyone sneak in front of us to grab one of these precious seats heading out across the ocean. We'd already traveled from Bujumbura, to Kigali, to Nairobi prior to arriving in Amsterdam and after a night on a cold, carpetless floor, I wanted to get the hell out of there.

Once we obtained the boarding passes, I refrained from performing a touchdown-like celebration and calmly walked towards the bar code reader. Humbled by the experience on the plane the previous day when more than one announcement of our imminent departure (accompanied by cheers) was subsequently thwarted by follow-up announcements telling us that we were doomed. There was no guarantee until we were safely landing on American soil, or ice as was the case in Minneapolis.

The plane was very late taking off of course due to all of the passenger re-bookings but we were in no mood to complain. Much to our relief, we finally arrived in chilly Minnesota. It was hard not to laugh at the scene of 20+ inches of snow and a perfectly functioning airport after the pathetic 3 inches in Amsterdam (with no wind) that had created all of the chaos the day before. Both KLM and Schiphol Airport got caught with their trousers around their ankles. Normally very professional companies, my hope is that there will be some lessons learned. Possibly not given that the blame seems to be so diffused amongst all the entities involved.

We made our way through immigration and were not surprised to see that our bags did not make the trip. Alas, the comedy of errors continued.

We were left with only one night in Minneapolis before our scheduled flight to Louisville. As suspected, they still didn't arrive despite assurances that they would.

We arrived in Louisville and have now spent two nights at Priya's parents. While it's nice to be settled with the holidays now underway, we have now been 5 1/2 days without our bags. Each day brings new assurances by earnest and sincere-sounding airline employees of their continued existence and imminent arrival. But they don't appear.

Surprise, conflict, repetitiveness and the effect of opposite expectations. It was a comedy and clearly not very funny.

Hendri

2010-12-09T13:12:00.004+03:00

There’s a lot to comment on and I just haven’t had the time to do so. My last few weeks have been a whirlwind of travel, busy and stressful times at work, and getting settled into the new house. Amidst all of this there has been some significant emotional drama, some of which I’ll share now.
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A couple of weeks ago, we received the visitors that’d I’d mentioned a while back. These were the kayakers who were on an African whitewater expedition/adventure film project that was taking them through Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi and the Congo (DRC). The film was to be about their expedition, but also the turbulent history and recovery in the countries they are traveling through and the strength and hope of the people they meet along the way. Our organization wasn’t sponsoring or hosting but simply providing them informal support here and there in addition to welcoming them to visit our projects.
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I’ve been in contact with them for a few months, particularly Hendri, their South African guide who is based in Uganda. I advised them on travel into Rwanda and Burundi and helped them with visas. We also set up interviews for them with some of our staff who’d lived through genocide and civil war – testimonials that were nonetheless positive messages about overcoming mind-blowing adversity.
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Hendri is a legendary African guide and a world class kayaker. The two guys with him, Ben and Chris, are amazing professional kayakers and had done kayak adventure films before.
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Hendri and I had been in touch periodically during the trip prior to their arrival in Rwanda and Burundi. They had satellite and cell phones he used it to keep me up to date on their progress and inform me about the potential timing of their arrival in Burundi. It was finally determined that they’d make it through the upper part of the Rusizi River, arriving at the Burundi border on Nov. 23^rd. I’d suggested that the lower part of the Rusizi that flows into Lake Tanganyika adjacent to Bujumbura – the part that forms the DRC-Burundi border – might not be safe. In addition to crocodiles and hippos, there’d been recent reports a large number of bodies being found in the river (roughly 22 of them), many of which displayed signs of torture including at least one beheaded corpse. They received similar information from others so they prudently decided to stop near the border.
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Their opting out was a relief and we sent a vehicle to pick them up and bring them to Bujumbura. It’s about an hour and a half one way. When they arrived at our offices, it was good to finally meet them in person and hear about their adventures so far. Unfortunately I had to travel soon after their arrival so we basically had lunch at a nice place on the lake (which they absolutely loved after roughing it for quite some time). I had originally offered to put them up at our new house but given that I had to travel for a couple of days, I told them that if they were still in Bujumbura when I got back, we’d have them over.

Sure enough, when I returned on Thursday (Thanksgiving) they were still sorting out some of the logistics of their trip and wouldn’t be leaving until the next day. Though tired from my travel “up country”, I honored my promise and within a very short time we were all up at our house on the terrace sipping drinks and exchanging stories.
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Much of our belongings were still in boxes but we’d rapidly pulled out enough things to get by and provide beds for our three visitors for the night. They turned out to be great. Far from the meathead thrill-seekers that one might anticipate, they’re a nice combination of smart (well-read), humble (more interested in our humanitarian work than talking about their own impressive backgrounds), humorous and gracious.
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After drinks on the terrace, we went to a nearby Indian restaurant for some great Indian food. Priya and I obviously have an affinity for Indian food and to have such a fantastic place so close is pretty cool. Hendri referred to it as the meal of the trip.
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We returned to the house and Chris and Ben proceeded to open up computers and begin downloading film. It’s a massive and fascinating project. The goal was to amass tons of footage that would be edited upon return to the US. The filming would be used in a number of ways, one of which would be to present it in adventure film festivals. Everything had to be downloaded in Bujumbura so as to protect what they had so far in case they were robbed or it was damaged. Though they had impressive water-tight bags in their kayaks, there was always a chance that something would happen.
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In between times of attending to the computers, they seemed happy to watch some TV and just relax. Hendri, being the guide, didn’t have to deal with the film stuff so he and I chatted about other things including life in Africa and adventure activities. Though I’ve dabbled in adventure, I tend to keep quiet around people like Hendri since he’s the real deal. He’s pushed African river exploration harder than anyone on the planet and that’s just one piece of the amazing things he’s accomplished. All the while he remains humble and seems quite happy to spend his time talking about other things.
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The downloading lasted through the night though by the next morning they assured me that they’d all slept quite well. During our discussions they informed us that as hard as the previous weeks had been, the next stretch would be the most arduous and dangerous. That seemed hard to believe given what I knew about what they’d already done. It wasn’t clear but it seems that the next stretch had only been attempted once or twice before and that the last person that attempted it was never seen again.
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We all went to the office the next morning. They wanted to use the internet and then they’d go back to the same lakeside restaurant we’d been to before while they awaited their boat to continue their travels to the Congo. We exchanged information, said our good-byes and off they went.
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There were a couple of times during the visit that I remember looking at them and wondering if we’d ever see each other again. Hendri offered us a standing invitation to his place in Uganda. Ben and Chris are from northern California and southern Oregon, places I know and are near and dear to my heart. But at one point when Hendri was talking at the Indian restaurant, I seriously wondered whether something serious might happen to them. It’s a morbid thought but the dangers of doing something like this are evident. And to see some slight signs of apprehension, even on the faces of these hardened professionals, it made me more nervous for what lay ahead.
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Hendri told us (and Ben and Chris) that they were going to be focused on these last few weeks and that they had to be done by Christmas. He was looking forward to meeting his girlfriend after it was over to go on their planned 3-month vacation together. He also took my parent’s address since he said he wanted to send us something after they were done. Though I said he didn’t need to, he seemed like he had good taste so I secretly hoped that he would.
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Over the past several days I hadn’t heard anything. I assumed that I wouldn’t. I knew that there was no longer need for our logistical and scheduling coordination. I figured I wouldn’t get a report from NY about the trip until they were done and I’d also be able to check their blog postings.
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Then yesterday morning I received a call from NY. My fears, and the fears of many, had been realized. Tragedy struck. Hendri, Ben and Chris were working their way along the Lukaga River beginning at Kalemie. The information that we have so far is that Hendri was attacked and pulled from his kayak by a crocodile day before yesterday. Neither his body nor the kayak were found. Ben and Chris are unhurt but obviously devastated. They were able to call out using the satphone and were taken the six and a half hours back to Kalemie.
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I’m a bit surprised at how much I have been taken aback by the news. I’d only known Hendri a short time and nonetheless I connected with him quite well. We had a lot of similar interests and perspectives about living sub-Saharan Africa. My guess is that we would have stayed in touch and likely met up in Uganda at some point. The horrific nature of his death adds to the sting.
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There’d been much talk about the dangers of the trip from the time we were informed about it. We seriously wondered whether they’d even make it to Burundi. Once they’d made it this far, I was more optimistic about their chances.
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I don’t claim to have the mindset of an adventurer – certainly not at the level of these guys. Having said that, I think I understand something about what drives them. I was discussing the incident with a staff member yesterday and she asked the rhetorical question as to how anyone would choose such a crazy occupation and willingly put himself in such danger. Based on my conversations with Hendri and his love for his work, he’d have asked the rhetorical question in disbelief as to how anyone would willingly choose to sit at a computer all day. He just seemed to love what he was doing and he could have cared less if anyone recognized him for his accomplishments. As one person described him, he simply did it for the love of adventure, not for the limelight. My deepest sympathies and prayers for his family and friends.
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For more information, click here.

Makamba to Gitega to Bujumbura to Kigali...

2010-11-29T22:13:00.000+03:00

I think this will be a relatively short posting. I'm tired and probably not in the best mood to be anything close to interesting.

I'm in a hotel in Rwanda. The room smells like pee. Not the first time I've stayed in a hotel room that smelled of some sort of bodily function but I confess it's been a while. During my poorer years in Europe and the US as well as some budget travel here in Africa, I've had much, much worse than this but I didn't really expect it here. In my limited time in Kigali I've been exposed to mostly clean facilities. Oh well. At least I have a mozzie net and the BBC to keep me company.

Last week I traveled to Makamba (southern part of Burundi) to visit staff and give a presentation to newly elected government officials from the region. It was a good trip overall (minus a shootout not far away resulting in 2 dead and 2 captured by the army). I would have liked to have stayed longer but I needed to attend an opening ceremony of a gender-based violence (GBV) center in Gitega, a town in the center of the country. So the next morning we headed about 2 hours north. The ceremony was a couple of hours late (sigh) but it was fortunately not in Kirundi (French) so I could happily understand. Just afterward our convoy of twenty-some SUVs rolled to another part of town to another related event - the opening ceremony of the 16 Days of Activism for GBV at the local stadium. This was a large event attended also by the First Vice President. I took a couple of photos but they're not on this computer so you'll have to use your imagination.

It was a nice afternoon and I was happy to have attended. Unfortunately at this event only one speech was in French so during the Kirundi I either discreetly did some work or gazed about observing the interesting scene before me. One awkward bit was a little theater performance by a drama team to attempt to show the ugliness of abusive behavior. I'm not sure how effective it was. It started out with a woman in traditional dress doing her chores as her husband returned home. He asked her for some money so that he could go out for a drink. Without looking up she said that if she gave him some money it would be to go buy some food. Not appreciating her response, he reached over and smacked her (acting). She fell to the ground and the crowd roared with laughter. With raised eyebrows I looked at my GBV Coordinator colleague sitting next to me and she seemed a bit horrified. Theater is an amazingly powerful tool in sub-Saharan Africa. Need to use it wisely.

Anonymity

2010-11-22T17:51:00.001+03:00

One thing that occurs to me every time I leave Africa is the sensation of anonymity. There's a certain amount of bliss in being able to leave your house without people staring at you or at least observing you at great length. Now I know that this happens all over the world. You have black people moving into white neighborhoods. White people moving into black neighborhoods. Arabs moving into non-Arab neighborhoods. Etc. It's uncomfortable. Even when people don't do it with any negative intent or possibly don't even realize the extent to which they are doing it, it's still annoying. At least for me.

I had hoped that things might be better in Burundi than in Tanzania but it's not the case. Foreigners and Burundians seem to mix quite well when you are in a restaurant or a car. People seem pleasantly indifferent to you. However walking or jogging is usually a stare-fest. Even the guards of the housing compounds spend quite a bit of time staring as well even though they see you all the time. It's not necessarily rude; just annoying.

So arriving in NY was a change. It's probably the most difficult place in the world to be the object of someone's attention. People rarely even make eye contact let alone stare. Plus you have so much craziness going on in the city that you need to be really bizarre to get any attention. It's so easy to just disappear into the mass and no one could care less. Bliss.

So I'm back to the grind in Burundi. It's been a whirlwind of activity since my return and it's not going to lighten up until at least the holidays. It's ok though since we've moved into a house finally and I'm enjoying the work, the learning and the team. I still have tons to learn but I'm getting a better handle on things. I'm off to Makamba (in the south) tomorrow and then Gitega (in the centre of the country) on Thursday. Then back to Bujumbura on Friday and then I fly to Kigali next week. It wouldn't be so bad if all the travel didn't prevent me from getting the other stuff done. Oh well. Bring it on.

Out of the Woods and into the City

2010-11-14T21:31:00.002+03:00

I arrived late Friday. I was largely brain-dead when I caught a taxi to take me to the hotel. Nonetheless I had an interesting chat with the cab driver. He's probably used to semi-lucid people in his car so I was probably no surprise to him. He did seem to find it interesting that I worked in Africa. He was from Guyana and it trying to obtain citizenship in the US. He had lots of questions about working with asylum seekers and refugees. He seemed to want to know how I felt about people like him doing whatever they can to get into the US and to legalize their status – eventually to become citizens.

I actually don't remember what I said but I can guarantee it wasn't very articulate. I mostly empathized with him and said that often times it's the more recent immigrants that are the most fervent patriots. I think he appreciated that and I appreciated that we finally arrived at the hotel and my long-awaited bed.

On Saturday I had a chance to go for a nice run around the city. I had a nice loop along the East River up to 68^th or so, cross over to Central Park, back down through the park and then angle back towards to hotel. Running along the East River at sunrise was surprisingly beautiful and a frosty run through Central Park is a joy for a cold weather guy like me who's been in the tropics for 5 ½ years. The fall colors were gorgeous. They were setting up for the NY Marathon which sort of made me sad that I wasn't running it. Oh well, maybe another time.

After my run I made my ritual trip to a diner for breakfast. It's just one of those pieces of Americana that doesn't tire me. I read through the NY Times, had a gallon of coffee and then went out to do a bit of shopping. I came across a street vendor who was selling various things on a table on the street. I searched the table over and honed in on a pair of sunglasses. I looked over at the guy who, oddly for a street vendor, was barely even paying attention to me. I asked him how much for a pair I was pointing at. He said, "They ain't for sale. None uh this stuff is for sale." I looked at him like he was crazy to have an official NYC vendor permit attached to his coat and a table full of merchandise in front of him with nothing for sale. He could see that I was still puzzled so he said, "Look around. This is a movie set. I ain't no vendor and none uh this stuff is for sale." Sure enough, I looked around and began to see that the cops on the street corner were not in fact real cops and this guy was, in fact, an "actor". He also pointed out various cameras being discreetly manned here and there. There were some above us dangling out of office windows and others across the street on rooftops. Now clued into what was going on around me, I could see that the whole intersection had been taken over by the film company. After taking it all in and speculating as to whether there was chance I could see them actually do some filming, I asked him if he could still sell me those sunglasses. He laughed. He said to come back when they were done filming and he's sell me the glasses, the fake cop car sitting in front of us and probably lots of other stuff. I smiled and told him the car was too big to take to Burundi as a souvenir and headed on.

On Sunday I was able to make it to church and see Tim Keller speak. No noticeable effects of jet lag. I have to say, Tim's good. I get why he resonates with a sophisticated NYC congregation. So brilliant and easy to listen to.

Monday and Tuesday were filled with meetings. In between I was able to fit in more meetings. That's sort of how it goes here. Monday night was a dinner with a very wealthy and prominent donor. It was held atop his office building in a large board room converted into a very nice dining room. Great conversation and very cool to see that someone like him is so informed and engaged in the work that we do around the world. Smart guy.

Wednesday night was the big gala event at the Waldorf Astoria. All kinds of important and famous people were there. I didn't get any photo ops but I did get to shake a few important hands.

Andy Grove, former CEO of Intel and former refugee assisted by IRC

I also fit in a lunch and a dinner with our friend Liya who now lives in NY. Good to see her and have her introduce me to some great food – including sushi and this other place that specializes in chocolate. What's not to like?!

Liya and me in front of some sort of amazing chocolate something

I left on Saturday evening and now I'm in my beloved Amsterdam airport. I'm taking in my last bit of broadband for a while. I arrive at 8:30am on Monday morning and head straight to the office. My first meeting is at 9:00am. Let's hope I can sleep on the flight tonight.

From 36,000 Feet

2010-11-08T14:12:00.000+03:00

Flights should never leave at 1:20 in the morning. That's just wrong. Then I feel like I'm passing through every single airport between Burundi and NY. It reminds me of when I first moved to Europe and I learned the difference between a regional train and an "intercity" train - the hard way. I had hopped on a train from Lausanne to Geneva simply because it said it was going to Geneva. Wrong. The stupid thing proceeded to stop at every little train station the whole way. I think it'd been faster to walk. I know some of you are thinking "I'd never be that dumb" and for most of you that's probably the case. I did so many embarrassing things when I first started living overseas and fortunately for me, the world will never hear about them.

So anyway, I'm typing this as I fly over Albania or thereabouts. I'm sipping on some red wine and listening to Dean Martin on my ipod. This last flight from Nairobi was actually quite beautiful. I've rarely seen it so clear. Earlier the morning sun made the Sahara as bright and golden as I've ever seen it. Alexandria was so clear you could see cars moving about on the streets. Then of course the Mediterranean was a magnificent blue. It was the first time I'd seen my beloved Greek island of Santorini from the air. I'm aware that it's a sin for jaded travelers to be seen being impressed by anything to do with their air travel. You're not supposed to be caught paying attention to the flight safety demonstration and God forbid someone should see you take a photo from the airplane window. Alas, I threw caution to the wind and did both.

I will be in NY for meetings. It's actually not a bad time of year to be in NY. The cool air will do me good and it's usually not that biting cold that will come in a few more weeks. Also, a small dose of the Christmas holiday is nice given that I'm not subjected to the holiday hell that the Western world suffers. There is also the NY Marathon which, if I were to plan better, I might try to do the next time if the schedules coincide.

I'm also excited to attend church. Now I'm aware that such things are not high on people's tourism list unless it's to see a fantastic cathedral or listen to the organ in the Notre Dame (which by the way I highly recommend). In this case it is to see a man named Tim Keller. Not only is he an amazing and well-known speaker, he's also the uncle of someone who used to work with us in Kibondo (Carolyn is mentioned in a few past blogs). Back in the day we'd sit on our rustic porch overlooking the hills and the passing thunderstorms and listen to downloaded sermons. Anyway, with the crisscrossing of time zones, travel fatigue, time change in the US, my goal may be simply to be on time and awake.

Makamba

2010-11-01T14:48:00.000+03:00

In the past several weeks I've been doing my best to get settled into the new job. It's a lot of new information to take in but I am starting to feel a bit more comfortable with my knowledge of what's going on. One of the things that has been helpful is taking the time to visit all of the field operations and meet with staff. I began with the trip to Muyinga in the north. Then there was the trip to Kigali. Then this past week I was off to Makamba, our field site in the south.

The drive along the coast of Lake Tanganyika is exceptionally beautiful. I had been to Makamba last year while I was still in Tanzania so I had a decent idea of what it was about. Nonetheless, it was still a very pleasant drive minus the police checkpoints and the time I was buried in my laptop.

Stove to support bread making activity

We arrived around noon and I had lunch with the Field Coordinator. We spent the afternoon meeting about various issues prior to the large gathering of the entire field team. They were generally very welcoming with the exception of the usual questions regarding salary increases.

The next day I made a brief stop at a gender-based violence workshop where I met with representatives from partner organizations. I wasn't able to stay long and was soon whisked away to a savings and credit activity that we are doing in a very small village near a town on the lake called Nyanza Lac. It was a wonderful but long meeting where I was able to participate by simply saying a few words and then letting them get on with their own thing. It was as close as a tall white guy can come to being a fly on the wall in a rural, sub-Saharan African setting. With the exception of occasionally looking to see my reaction to things, they carried on as if I wasn't there.

Opening the locked box of cash - three members each possess a key to ensure security

The activity is set up such that it is self-funded with the exception of some basic bookkeeping materials. Otherwise, the biggest thing we add is expertise. The beauty is that it is sustainable and they will be able to continue it in the future without our assistance.

While I was sitting there, a small girl was sitting across the way. She initially was terrified by seeing me and then gradually warmed up to me as the meeting progressed. At one point she began to fuss and I gave her a pen which she proceeded to chew off and on for the duration of the meeting. I think that helped break the ice. Not long afterwards she came closer and even sat down on my feet facing me with the slobbery pen sticking out of her mouth. While I focused on listening to my Kirundi translator, I suddenly felt a vibration on the top of my shoes. The vibration became audible and it quickly became apparent that the little one was quite happily having a little bowel movement. The mother, who was one of the money counters, was sitting in front of me to my left. Her eyes opened wide with horror and she started to get up to retrieve her daughter. Just then an elderly lady, who I found out later was the grandmother, waved off her daughter, came over, swooped up the little one and headed for the door. As she picked her up, however, it was quite apparent to all on my side of the room that junior was not wearing nappies.

She may look innocent...

The young mother, with a renewed look of horror as she saw my shoes, came over with a cloth that she'd been sitting on and proceeded to wipe them off. Trying not to disrupt the meeting, I motioned to her that it was fine and I finally got her to retake her seat. I looked down and the remnants of the greenish, watery mess were already starting to dry. Several in the room seemed to get a kick out of the whole thing. Good news is we both ended up with a story to tell.

Bread makers with one of our staff

A Curious Endeavor

2010-10-25T09:37:00.000+03:00

In a few weeks our offices in Kigali and Bujumbura will be receiving some guests. That's not really news since we are frequented with visitors, auditors, technical advisers, etc. on a very regular basis. The interesting thing is that these visitors are going to be arriving by kayak.

Several weeks ago our external relations person from NY notified me that a kayak trip in Africa was being planned which is intended to be some sort of an adventure film with a highlight on humanitarian work. We have been asked to participate (unfortunately not in the kayaking) in providing some logistical support and interesting testimonials in exchange for some possible good exposure in the film. The trip is being sponsored by a well-known outdoor clothing company (which I will not reveal at this time). The voyage is intended to pass through a handful of countries in this region including a segment on the Rusizi River which ends on the northern tip of Lake Tanganyika just outside of Bujumbura.

Without dedicating a tremendous amount of time to this project (since it's outside the realm of what we're specifically funded to do), it is important to work with people like this to not only raise awareness for the work that our organization is doing, but also to continue to remind people in the Western world that their comfortable lifestyles are not the norm for the majority of the people on this planet. Maybe a third helpful aspect to this adventure is that the world should be more exposed to the amazing beauty of this continent. The only footage that most of the world sees of Africa consists of AIDS victims, war, starving children, etc. While that stuff certainly exists, it is NOT reflective of what this continent is about as a whole. In my travels to nine African countries, I have been astounded by the breathtaking scenery and warm people in every single country. I do wish that more of the world could experience that side of this continent. Ok, end of Africa promo.

One thing that was a bit funny when working with my Administration Manager on some of the logistics was that she didn't know what a kayak was. I tried to explain that it was sort of like a small boat similar to the indigenous ones here but with a few very different characteristics. I failed in my explanation so I drew a picture on the whiteboard in my office. My lack of artistic skill leads me to believe that she still has no idea what these little "boats" are all about. If they do end up storing their kayaks on our office compound, it's quite likely they'll be an object of curiosity. Just the description of people wanting to float hundreds of kilometers in small boats on somewhat dangerous waters (crocodiles and bad guys - in the last few weeks 22 dead bodies were found on the Rusizi not far from here, at least one decapitated) with no intention fishing is a curious endeavor in and of itself. We're hosting them here for a couple days so they'll likely have some good stories to share if they make it here in one piece.

Fast Times in Rwanda

2010-10-17T18:46:00.002+03:00

I'm currently in Rwanda. It's a new country for me and it's good to finally be here given the amount of time I've spent discussing the place with colleagues and reading about it in briefings. Now it's all Rwanda, all day. Our program in the country is at a crossroads and there's a lot to do to sort out what we're going to do.

Kigali from the vehicle (didn't have time to take any decent photos - maybe next time)

I arrived in Kigali on Monday after the half-hour flight from Bujumbura. The early morning drive from the airport to the hotel consisted of moderate traffic and signage that reflected the national language transition from French to English. The densely populated hills that make up Kigali reveal another transition – the older cheap housing being phased out to make way for the new, modern construction. There's no question that Rwanda is changing and it's happening at a rate faster than anywhere else in sub-Saharan Africa.

The West generally knows little about Rwanda. People have some awareness about a tragic genocide and possibly a bit about AIDS and poverty. Some, with a bit more knowledge about the country, generally fill the air with accusations regarding the authoritarian nature of the government. It's unfortunate. There's an amazing transformation in the works and regardless of what many say about the past or the present, it seems that insufficient recognition is being given to the progress that has been made in the past 15 years in an often delicate environment.

My small room in Ngoma; fold-fest

My entire week has been spent in meetings with government officials, international organization representatives and staff. By Wednesday at noon we'd fit in 15 meetings. I realized that there are few countries in the world where cultural norms and infrastructure would have allowed for such an aggressive timeline. I also fit in a trip to our field sites in the eastern part of the country which afforded some nice views of the countryside and the affirmation that the cleanliness and organization is not restricted to Kigali.

So my head is completely full. It's an awful lot to fit into a very short period of time. It's now time to process it all and catch up on things in Bujumbura.

First Trip to the Field

2010-09-28T12:41:00.000+03:00

After a few days of staff meetings, signing billions of documents and house hunting, I escaped for a couple of days to travel to the northern part of the country where we have a field site and loads of interesting activities. The reasons for the trip were to attend some meetings, visit a refugee camp where we will begin working soon and also visit some of the projects that we are working on in the region.

the hills of Burundi

Traveling in Burundi is very different from Tanzania. Given the small size of the country you can get to most anywhere within a half day. An added advantage is that there are good tarmac roads that connect all the major areas. This is very cool since the bumpy roads in rural Tanzania have a habit of bruising all of your internal organs during the long, dusty treks from one place to the next.

Muyinga

So Monday morning we headed out with six people crammed into a Toyota Prado. The late dry season haze blurred the hills that border Bujumbura to the west. Our route would take us up through this rugged terrain which remained hilly all the way to our destination. In fact, Burundi is entirely made up of hills and one of the most beautiful places in Africa – at least from what I've seen. I say this having been told by my Burundian colleagues that I haven't even seen it at its best which is supposedly a clear day during the rainy season. Well, I'm looking forward to it and I'll have my camera ready.

having a look at a new bridge

Speaking of camera, you'll notice in this blog that I appear in some of the photos. This is rare in that I had a guy with me that was shooting pictures of our projects as we moved from one location to the next. Though I had my camera with me, most of the time I didn't pull it out.

life in the camp

We arrived in Muyinga around noon, visited the office, had some lunch and sped off to one of the refugee camps for a "town hall" meeting with refugees. The head table consisted of heads of a handful of organizations that work in the camp as well as the UN and the head of the local government. There were a few speeches and then we broke up into smaller groups to meet with various refugee committees on a variety of topics. Our group focused primarily on the protection of women and girls – a topic of special importance when working with Congolese refugees.

listening to speeches

That evening we had a drink at a local watering hole and then dinner at our guesthouse. The house is an architectural nightmare that adds insult to injury in the form of pink tiles, pink and orange curtains and topped off by my favorite pasty white fluorescent lighting. Having said that, the essentials were there. I had a hot shower (shared with a number of creepy, crawly things) and a comfortable bed (hopefully not shared with the creepy, crawly things).

visiting a new school

The next day we were off to an early meeting with the same organizations as the day before. I was a marginally relevant addition to the meeting until around mid-morning at which time I left things in the capable hands of a couple of my staff and I went off to visit some of our projects in the area. The schedule was quite tight and I had to cram in as much as possible.

With the exception of some small meetings and some email time, that was how I spent the rest of the day. The following day consisted of more project visits until mid-morning and then the half-day drive back to Bujumbura. The return, though I was a bit dirty and weary, was nothing like the arduous treks back and forth from Dar to the refugee camps in Tanzania. Not only does the latter take additional time and modes of transportation, you and your belongings are covered with red dust that seems to find its way into every nook and cranny including ears, pockets, keyboards, nostrils, etc.

roadside kiln for making bricks

Back to Buj

And the house hunt continues. I'm told it's normal for it to take some time to find the right house. Given that realization and the fact that the agreement ended on our tiny guesthouse, we just moved into a new temporary house until we find a place of our own. We were able to get a cool place near the lake that would be too small to live in for longer term but at least now have a bit more space and it no longer feels like we're living in a hallway closet.

hitching a ride

No real complaints though. We've been blessed in more ways than I can count. Happy to be here.

another way of hitching a ride

And so it begins…

2010-09-18T15:59:00.001+03:00

A Bit about the Blog

As you can decipher from the link for this blog, it was originally to consist of rants. Years ago I was accumulating numerous frustrations of this world in which I live that were, for the most part, and in my opinion, unnecessary. They were largely the product of human greed at the expense of others. The idea of the blog was that the ranting would give me an outlet for my frustrations and possibly shed some light on what is happening in this world where I work and live. The greed, just as much a characteristic of those helping Africa as those on the receiving end, hampers the ability of the aid to help those who need the help the most. If you're seriously in this work to see people's lives change for the better, I can assure you that seeing this over time creates considerable anxiety. There are many disillusioned bleeding hearts that have left this work for good as a result.

My occupation, however, took a different turn and I soon found myself no longer in a position to speak as freely about such injustices. I still see them. In fact I'm still writing about them but they will not be a part of this blog – at least not while I am doing what I do. For obvious reasons, I must be strategic in my approach to what I say and how I say it. I am very much involved in battling the injustices that exist but right now I can contribute more in my current role than I can by ranting (though I can say with all honesty that I am very happy with the integrity of the organization for whom I work). So for the time being, I'll continue to bite my tongue about some things and tell stories about other things. The stories may not have the bite that a nice corruption scandal would have but the blog does serve to shorten emails to family and friends. In other words, you can get the goods on what's going on with me if you want to but I'm not going to hammer you over the head with it. And if you are expecting any juicy stories about corruption in Africa, you shall be sadly disappointed. For now.

And so it begins…

So where did I leave off? Oh yes, the insignificant changes of a new home, new job, new language and new country. The language isn't entirely new to me but it is new from what I was using a couple weeks ago. Takes me a little longer to write emails since it's been 11 years since I worked in French.

Overall the change is going well. The new team has been very supportive and I have no complaints. Lots of reading to do and getting up to speed on what we are doing and where. It's very different from Tanzania where our primary focus was refugee camps. Here we're working in a post-conflict setting. This is where the war was that drove those people to become refugees (not referring to the Congolese for the time being). A little less than a tenth of the population is said to have been a refugee at some point. The programs target primarily, though not exclusively, the particularly vulnerable in this setting (ex. women, children, youth) and there are some pretty impressive efforts underway. I will discuss them from time to time in the weeks ahead.

As for the current security situation in the country, so far it seems to be unclear. I have met with a few other representatives of organizations, UN, embassies, etc. since I arrived and everyone seems to have a slightly different take on the current level of security. The three pillars of danger are banditry, internal conflict (roots of which go back to the decades of war) and the external threat posed by Muslim extremism in the form of Al-Shabaab (due to their anger regarding the presence of Burundian peace-keeping troops in Somalia). Most seem to put the threats in that order as to how much of a danger they are to personal safety for the population. I suppose you could include road accidents since that's the leading cause of death of foreigners in Africa but I'll stick to the other ones for now.

The variances are in how much of a threat people think each is. No one seems to live in panic in spite of a very visible presence of security forces around. I pass through a security road block almost every day just driving to or from work or going to a restaurant in the evening. It's not a problem really since they either just wave me through (my SUV is clearly marked as an NGO vehicle by license plates and our organization's logo) or ask me a few general questions as they peek in the windows. They have a tough job to do since they have a responsibility to protect the population without being overly invasive, abusive or just annoying. I wouldn't want their job.

I don't have a good feel yet as to how dangerous life is here. My security briefing from the UN comes every 24 hours and it lists incidents that are surprisingly numerous. The key, I think, is not to blow it out of proportion yet keep a close eye on things. My security responsibilities go beyond my wife and me since I'm also responsible for hundreds of staff. Remain vigilant. Keep the finger on the pulse of the security situation. Discuss frequently with the staff and partners. Don't overreact to rumors. Filter through the tons of information and communicate the essentials. It's as easy as that.

As a naïve newcomer to the country, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I'm optimistic. The people here seem very sharp and good-natured. They have an enormous amount of challenges ahead and decades of war is not something that you recover from overnight. We shall see in the weeks, months and years ahead but this is such a beautiful place. It has so much potential and there's no question that most people want to put all the crap behind them and move forward. Fasten your seatbelts and store your hand luggage in the overhead bin. There may be a little turbulence but overall we anticipate a good flight.

Homeless

2010-09-11T16:08:00.005+03:00

There is homelessness and there is homelessness. The kind that I'm experiencing is not the bad kind, or at least not the real bad kind. I don't like being without a home and being without our belongings around us but, given my occupation, I am quite aware that there are people that are far worse off in this category than I.

Nonetheless, being without any place that you can refer to as home is destabilizing. And it's probably a healthy experience. It's no comparison to people who have been driven from their homes due to violence but it does get old. First we sent our belongings on a truck a few weeks ago. Then we gave up our place for the arrival of the person (and his family) who was taking my place in Dar es Salaam and stayed with a friend for about a week. Then we went to Zanzibar for a break. Now were in Bujumbura staying in a guesthouse until we find a place to live. After a failed attempt to find a place last week, we will try again this week though I'm told it could take a few weeks. The whole time we are living out of a suitcase.

I'm not complaining. It's more of a description of our situation. I know we will find a place to live and we're not suffering in our tiny guesthouse. If this lasts a few more weeks, I may start complaining.

Zanzibar

When changing jobs, people often take a bit of a break. In my case, I took a break a bit longer than the length of a weekend. Maybe taking such a short break wasn't the smartest thing to do but we'd had a vacation in the US not long ago and I have been anxious to get started in the new job. They've been without a Country Director for almost two months and I'd probably stress out more not working (with the anticipation of the change) than working.

So we headed to Zanzibar a week ago Friday. Seems like longer than that after all that has happened since. Anyway, we took the arduous 20 minute flight, grabbed a taxi and headed to the east coast of the island. The taxi driver was an old guy who launched into a lively dialogue (monologue is probably more accurate) bouncing back and forth between English and Swahili. His English was surprisingly good and Priya accurately guessed that he was a former teacher before becoming a taxi driver as his retirement job.

The drive lasted just under an hour as we weaved our way through the bicycles, carts pulled by cows, the unique wood-sided Zanzibari daladalas (buses), pedestrians, etc. Driving in most African cities is an art – one that consists of a varying blend of aggression, courtesy, ruthlessness and sometimes teamwork. Anticipating the movements of others is essential and experience is the only way to learn. Our well-seasoned driver was half philosopher, half Formula One.

We were married on the east coast a few years ago but much further north than where we headed this time. As we pulled into the compound, I began to smell the salty sea air. We paid our driver and made arrangements for him to pick us up two days later. The warm, white sand felt good and I was happy with our decision to take our brief break here.

Our lodging was simple, comfortable and tasteless. I generally have high expectations for the décor of Zanzibar establishments given the wonderful and sophisticated style for which it's famous. Be that as it may, I was happy to be on the beach with air conditioning and running water. Let the relaxation begin.

It seems we split our time between the beach and the dining table. A sign of a good weekend. We'd pondered more activity but then thought otherwise. I desperately needed some downtime and in retrospect, we did the right thing.

After a wonderful couple of days, we met our driver in the parking area and navigated our way back to one of the world's tiniest international airports. After our short flight to Dar, we flew directly to Bujumbura via Nairobi. We were met by a couple of my new staff and a driving rain. We meandered out of the airport parking lot and down the road towards town. Within less than a minute we were at our first military checkpoint. And so life begins in our new city.

Moving Situation

2010-08-23T09:21:00.003+03:00

And the farewells begin. Moving is always a bittersweet time. There are gatherings of people that you haven't seen for a while which is nice. You have people who say nice things about you (the ones who wouldn't say nice things likely don't come or remain silent). You also have the recognition that you will be leaving so many people with whom you have spent several years – most you will unlikely ever see again. Everyone goes through this at various times in their lives though I feel like I've gone through this more than most.

Just an idea of some numbers. I have moved out of my residence 15 times in the last 22 years. Of those moves, 6 were to a different country from where I was living – 5 of them to a different continent. If I were to include my college years, it would be even worse since I changed residences every single year.

One would think that I enjoy this sort of thing – the adventure of changing houses, going through my belongings, throwing things out, etc. Nothing could be further from the truth actually. Traveling is one thing. Moving is another. I detest moving. It seems rather to be a consequence of a restless disorder that I have. It's not moving for the sake of moving but shifts in my career that necessitate radical changes in my living situation. I love what I do but I must say that I tolerate the changes. I may be wrong but it seems that if my career allowed it, I (and from our frequent conversations on the subject I suspect Priya as well) would hunker down in a single place, plant trees, get involved in a community, church and so forth. I would have a local pub where people would know my name.

Last dinner with home group

Apparently that desire is not enough to make us alter our careers, or at least not yet. As I said, I very much enjoy what I do. I'm sad to leave Tanzania and the wonderful people I've met here. At the same time I've already met many of my new team in Burundi and I'm very much looking forward to finally joining them. If all goes well we may be able to dig in for a few years. It sounds like it's going to be an interesting and challenging new adventure. It's just that this transition unfortunately requires us to move. So that's how we spent the weekend.

Eustache and family at our farewell party

We did have a nice farewell party at our apartment on Saturday. With most of our lives already in boxes, we at least kept the things on the walls to make the place a bit more welcoming. By Sunday evening, however, our flat looked as though the Grinch had made an appearance as the walls and floors are now bare. It's getting to be time to leave.

Strange pink sun that was invisible to the naked eye

Beginning of the End

2010-08-16T10:02:00.005+03:00

Over the past couple of weeks there have been a number of topics that I have felt blog-worthy. With a fully-loaded schedule, I was not in a position to sit down and draft any of them. Now, back in Dar and attempting to get caught up on things, I'm realizing that the topics are: a) forgotten, b) not as interesting as I thought they were at the time, or c) just as interesting or more interesting than I was thinking at the time but inappropriate to communicate to the entire world.

Regarding the last one, I've wondered how it is with people who have more interesting jobs than I. I picture some Interpol or CIA agents who discover some fascinating information, possibly incriminating someone famous, and they successfully keep the information for themselves until they die or write their tell-all book some 25 years later. I certainly don't compare my withheld stories to such things as that, though I do think that there is some pretty crazy, sometimes even humorous, stuff going on that would likely get me into trouble if I wrote it up. I fear that such stories will, over time, veer into the "not as interesting as time passes" category. It's tough to guess what things age well.

Last week I went to visit the camps and staff in the field with the Regional Director (aka my boss). It was a good trip overall and things seemed to be moving along well. The situation in the Burundian camp is tense and still likely to come to a head at some point. The standoff between the refugees and the government continues and the latter, in the opinion of one UN official, will eventually win out. We shall see but don't expect me to speculate on it here.

Camp Visit
The one program that I am excited about is the Community-Based Rehabilitation sector. It's particularly interesting to me because I haven't had much experience with it in the past.

Child being treated for clubfoot, therapy that will enable the child to grow up with normal functionality. The condition would have otherwise crippled the child for life.

The program focuses on people with disabilities. In a refugee camp this is a marginalized group within a marginalized group. The staff conduct home visits, physiotherapy and orthopaedic support as well as counseling. They also do awareness campaigns in the camp on issues surrounding the disabled. The program has been hampered in the past by lack of resources, materials to build prosthetics, a generator to power tools, fuel, etc. so it was good to see it actually up and running.

New wheels for guys that otherwise would drag themselves around or need to be carried. Very cool.

We also visited a new drop-in center for our Gender-Based Violence sector. It's not completed yet but it's in the final stages. There was already one center but due to the significant size of the camp, we decided a second one was necessary to make it more accessible to women who live a long distance from the other one. It's actually an area of the camp I don't know very well. It was easy to see that they don't get visitors much.
Kids came from everywhere to see what the white visitors were up to. I was shaking hands and bumping fists with the waist-high mob. These kids crack me up and I always wish I had more time to hang out. Their grubby little hands were covered with everything from dried snot to red dirt, mud, etc. As I got back in the Land Cruiser I noticed that my right hand was covered with traces of my contact with the exuberant horde. I figured it wise to avoid eating with that hand until I cleaned up a bit.

It was my second to the last visit to the camps. I have one more before we leave for Bujumbura. It's going to be sad to leave this all but it was very nice to see that things are going well. This was confirmed by the positive comments we received in our visits to the UN and government officials. Pretty cool, after all we've gone through over the past couple of years, to leave behind something you feel good about.

"Let's pray that the human race never escapes from Earth to spread its iniquity elsewhere."
C. S. Lewis

Unearthing Hidden Treasure

2010-07-26T12:20:00.003+03:00

On Saturday night I was sitting at the computer (I know, it's a bit pathetic). I was doing some work in addition to scanning negatives. For the latter, Priya bought me a small scanner a while back that I am using to bring my pre-digital past into to the digital era. As I was painstakingly preserving my 35 mm. negatives over the years, I often thought that this was an exercise in futility as I would probably never need them. Now, as I unwrap these small bundles of negatives, and one by one pass them across this scanner, I am quite thankful that I kept them.

I was a slow convert to digital photography. The early quality was poor and the cameras were expensive. As the prices dropped and the quality improved, I still resisted. My first step was to request a floppy disk of my photos when I turned the roll of film in for development. After doing that for a period of time, my friend Russ upgraded his digital camera and gave me his old one. That was all it took. After using it for a while, there was no turning back. Even after a kayak mishap a few months later where my new digital partner slipped out of its protective sleeve and sank to the bottom of Monterey Bay, I decided to press on and replace it. The transition took place around 1999 and so all of the photos prior to that are in negative and/or photo form.

The first camera of my youth was an "instamatic" which didn't even use 35 mm. film. I still have most of those negatives which are probably about 15 mm. and they're a bit of a pain to use in the scanner. Fortunately or unfortunately most of the photos from those days are crap so there are not very many to scan. I moved on to a small 35 mm. camera when I was in college and the quality of my photography moved from crap to bad – in spite of a sophomore year photography class where I learned how to develop the photos myself in that nearly dead vestige of the pre-digital era called a darkroom.

As I trudge forward a couple hours at a time scanning my past, I am relieved to notice that my hairstyle has changed little from what it was when I was 4 years old. I'm a little thinner on top and gray is now becoming more dominant but it's basically the same. I grew it long in the early 90's but the ponytail-length hair eventually became a nuisance and one day while on holiday in Amsterdam I chopped it off. Since then it's been the same no-comb coiffure. Generally speaking I have rarely been one to take fashion risks. As a result, I may provoke some yawns when I appear in the photos of my past but I also incite far fewer snickers than some of the other people whose past is also being brought to light by this exercise. Beware you readers from my past who allowed me to photograph you with bad hair, you who thought the greatest thing about digital photography was that it happened after the 1980's. I've yet to decide what I'm going to do with all of these little digital gems.

Burundi

2010-07-19T10:01:00.004+03:00

So we're headed to Burundi. It's sort of a strange thing to get my brain around since I really hadn't thought about it. At least not recently.

The idea of me going to Burundi and being Country Director for BDI/Rwanda came up quite some time ago but it was just a discussion about what may happen depending on how things go. I hadn't even been to the country until last year though we lived within a few kilometres for about a year. The decision was made while I was on vacation in the US so it ended up being an awkward thing where I had to announce to staff while I was away. There was no possibility to wait until I got back because everything was in motion. The current CD was leaving, my position had to be posted, etc. etc.

Though I am happy for the new opportunity and challenge, it is going to be difficult to leave Tanzania and my team here. I will have been living in TZ for 5 ½ years and I've worked with a lot of my current staff for 4 years (those that were with me back in my Kibondo days). You get close to people after a while and, separating wheat from chaff, we've developed a pretty solid team.

Priya's departure is a bit easier since she had already taken her "professional break" prior to knowing about this transition. Given that she is between jobs, it's a good time for her to try something new and work on her French. She's also been in TZ a couple years more than I so I think she's due for a change as well.

On the positive side, I do have a good feeling about the team there and the operation in general. Even the town has a nice feel to it. Yes, there is tension and a lot going on with the new terrorist threats but such things are part of the deal when you do this work. So far I like Bujumbura and the new team has already been very welcoming. As for working in French again, I guess I don't feel one way or the other about it. I was happy with how comfortable I was with the language after using it so seldom for so long (about 11 years since I've worked in French) and I guess at this point it doesn't seem like that big of a deal.
Some quick facts about Burundi?
One of the ten poorest countries in the world.
Lowest GDP per capita in the entire world.
Tiny. 10,745 sq.miles (vs. Idaho which has 83,642 sq. miles)
Lots of people. 836 people per sq. mile (vs. Idaho which has 15 per sq. mile)
More on Burundi in future postings.

Bujumbura photo I took last year

My handover pushed my ability to function with little sleep and serious jetlag. I arrived in Dar from the US at around 11pm a week ago Thursday and I was home by midnight. My flight to Buj via Nairobi was scheduled for 5:10am, meaning check-in by 4:00am, meaning leave the house by 3:30am, meaning wake up by 3:00am, meaning not a heckuva lot of sleep. After 32 hours of travel from the US and being 10 time zones away from where I started, my little "nap" would be a paltry contribution to alleviate my fatigue. No sleep on the two short flights and I was in meetings in Bujumbura by 9am (Dar time). The day would drag on until nearly midnight that evening due to the farewell/welcome party. Saturday consisted of meetings all day and Sunday I flew back to Dar to be in the office on Monday. Though insomnia has taught me how to function on little to no sleep, I'd be happy if I don't have to do that again.

Good Times in the Mountains

2010-07-11T20:22:00.008+03:00

I'm sitting on a hotel terrace overlooking the hills surrounding Bujumbura, Burundi. The downtown traffic hums below me with the frequent sound of honking and beeping. The air is cool and wonderful as I pause for a moment to take in the fact that I'm officially a long way away from the mountains of Idaho.

I know I've been slacking on this blog thing but I've been a busy guy. It's not going to be less busy any time soon so I just need to step up and catch you up on what's going on. More on Buj later.

Lisa and Cheryl mountain biking among the flowers in the Boise foothills

So the surgery has been without issue. The eyes are still working fine, fine enough that Priya and I headed for the mountains to spend three nights backpacking. My target was the White Cloud Mountains near the central part of the state. It's an area I don't know well having only been there once when I was young. It has dozens of small lakes and jagged, snow-capped peaks. Just what I was seeking.

What I was not seeking was quite so much snow. A cold rain welcomed us at the 4^th of July Lake trailhead and the start looked a bit foreboding. To make matters worse, two hikers, both seemingly anxious to chat about something as I walked over to them, communicated to me that they'd hiked in nearly a mile and the trail was completely blocked by huge snow drifts. I walked back to the Xterra and reported the news to Priya. Often being more enthusiastic than bright, I conveyed my support of the idea of having a look anyway. After about a one kilometer inspection of the trail and a possible clearer alternative route on the opposite side of the creek, Priya was on board as well. After all, it was less than two kilometers to the lake where we would establish a base camp and spend the next couple of days doing day hikes. How bad can it be?

Stormy, chilly evening view of Sawtooth Mountains from White Cloud Mountains

Well, let's just say it was a long winter. As Priya and I embarked on our adventure, we had rather smooth sailing until we were not far beyond the part we'd already inspected. But occasional rain, bog from significant snow melt and the increasing size and frequency of snow banks began to impede our progress towards the elusive lake. The monstrous packs on our backs, meant for only a relatively short hike, were becoming increasingly a contributor to our fatigue as we worked our way across steep hillsides, skree and drifts. Eventually it became apparent. There was no way to get to the lake – certainly not without snow shoes and much more time than we had. It was already around 6pm and the temperature was beginning to drop. We agreed that we needed to turn around and find a place to camp. We proceeded to descend until we found a suitable camping spot. About a third the way down we came upon a rare flat piece of land near a stream with a nice view of the elusive snow-crested White Cloud peaks.

We set up camp, made a fire and prepared dinner. It's one of the best parts of backpacking. The night was cold but we were sufficiently prepared and we slept well. I'd bought and packed a large air mattress that contributed "heavily" to our comfort and warmth.

The road out from 4th of July Lake

The next day we decided to hike back down to the Xterra and change tack. We drove out of the White Clouds and targeted my beloved Sawtooth Mountains to the west. Because it is forbidden to make campfires in the Sawtooth Wilderness area (something we didn't want to do without), we opted for the Sawtooth National Recreation Area (SNRA). Yellowbelly Lake (yes, these lakes do have strange names) was a place I'd been as a child but not since. I had vague memories of mosquitoes attacking me and my dad carrying me on his shoulders part of the way because I was likely complaining about the long hike. The other possibility was that I was goofing around too much and this was the only way to keep the family moving forward. If you've ever hiked with a dog, you have an idea as to the path I would take – zigzagging, allowing myself to be easily distracted, filling my pockets with interesting rocks, pulling wings off insects, etc.

A still morning at Yellowbelly Lake

By Idaho standards it was a short drive from 4^th of July to Yellowbelly and we soon had our packs on our backs again. The hike was also short by Idaho standards and we were soon setting up camp on the shore of the lake. It was a rather ideal location amongst the pines near the outlet of the lake.

The next two days were spent hiking, relaxing and some fishing. The nights were cold and the days were warm. On Monday we hiked out and we were off to Boise. My one-week eye appointment was waiting for me on Tuesday and then we'd be off to McCall to "car camp" with my family.

Family Camp Trip
The family assembled at Ponderosa State Park. We would spend the next several days camping, eating and filling our days with activities and just hanging out, part of which was at PSP and part of which was further south on Cascade Lake. Among the activities were a group mountain bike ride around Payette Lake, another ride near the failed ski resort of Tamarak, a road bike ride up Warm Lake Road near the town of Cascade, a few jogs and a rather long hike near McCall encompassing Boulder Lake and Louis Lake. Good times.

The smiling ladies taking a break on the hike; this was before they knew how damn long the hike was going to be.

Strolling from Boulder Lake to Louis Lake

Priya and the pristine Louis Lake

Another room with a view - Cascade Lake

Osprey nest - very bird friendly park

If it looks like Danny's going to fall, it's because he does.

At the end of the Tamarak ride, we're all on our feet.

The ride around Payette Lake; generally considered not safe to take photos while riding.

Chilly evening around the "fire".

Rich and Priya's night to prepare dinner - two tons of food on skewers consumed by an overactive family.

The photo shows less than half of what was eaten altogether.

Watching the fireworks - according to height.

On Holiday

2010-06-29T21:39:00.000+03:00

Don't have much time for comment because I am on holiday, or on vacation as we say here in America.

Going through Stuff
So far all is well. I started off plowing though my belongings which have been sitting idly in storage over the past 5+ years. By the way, Idaho's dry, cool climate is a great place to store belongings. Things that would have rotted in Dar in less than a month are in almost exactly as I left them several years ago.

I have deduced that my packing efforts back then were less than desirable and that I needed to rethink what I need to hang on to. After a few days of going through a garage and a closet, I am now organized. Much has been donated to people who need it far worse than I do and other less useful stuff has been thrown in the bin. Not the most entertaining use of valuable vacation time but it feels very good when you're done.

World Cup
I have been catching as many Cup matches as possible. I did miss the final US game due to being in the woods but it sounds as though the best team won. Bummer for the Americans but I think there are many other countries that have earned far greater heartbreak than the US.

Eye Surgery
The next thing on the agenda was having my eyes operated on to correct my astigmatism. This is something that I looked into in 2004 but shied away from it due to cost and the freakiness of the whole thing. This time I figured I need to get it done. Throwing caution to the wind, I subjected myself to the laser surgery.

Gazing into my eyes

I have to say, it's pretty crazy. To break it down to just the climax of the story (it's a little more involved than this), they numbed my eyeballs with eye drops and then sent me into the operating room. There, with Priya peering through the spectator window and viewing on a monitor, the laser proceeded to slice a semi-circle ring around the front of my eye. Then, with a layer peeled away, my cornea was blasted by the laser to a precise correction level. This produced the nastiest smell of burning flesh that everyone somehow forgot to mention in the pre-op. Then the flap of the front of my eye was rolled back and massaged back into place by the surgeon (to remove any fluid or air). The eye then begins the process of healing itself with no need for suturing. Pretty cool. Then they did the other eye. In less than fifteen minutes I was up from the table and peering through cloudy, yet corrected, vision. Again, pretty cool.

Nice shot Priya took of the front of my eye being peeled back

The next morning my vision was 20-15 with almost no cloudiness. Now, less than a week later my eyes feel normal with only some occasional dryness, especially when I wake up in the morning. That's supposed to go away soon. After lying low for a day we were off on a backpacking trip into the mountains of Idaho. Gotta love technology.

The Art of Recreation

2010-06-11T12:45:00.001+03:00

So I'm sitting here at the Amsterdam airport on my way to the US. My vacation and pursuit of recreation has officially started (though unofficially I'm still going through my emails). I actually quite like this place. I've gotten to know it quite well over the years and there are far worse ways to pass the time. AND the first exposure to broadband in six months is not surprisingly refreshing.

Heading away from Africa on the same day that the first World Cup in the continent's history begins is possibly a bit strange. I had at one point entertained the idea of heading down to catch a match or two but it's far more cumbersome and expensive than one might think, even from a country as close as Tanzania (African unity would be a much easier task if it wasn't so crazy expensive and often difficult to travel around the continent). I will be back in time for the final which, in all likelihood, will not involve an African team. Nonetheless, I hope that the African teams play inspired football and at least one of them gets to the quarterfinal.

It's been a particularly challenging six months and I'm very much looking forward to a break. I suppose you don't sign up for this kind of work unless you're up for a nearly constant roller coaster ride. Even so, I've had few professional experiences in my career so far that have created as much stress and insomnia. Now that Priya has left the organization, it will be interesting to see how that changes things. The all-consuming work topics that invade our house will soon be only of interest to one of us. That may encourage us to discuss other things for a change. I'm sure we'll find something else to talk about.

So my brain will need to change gears. I will need to work frequently during the break; there's no way around that. But I will need to disengage and focus on other things. If I don't, I'll be of less use to my staff when I get back. Fortunately for me my family is pretty good at the art of recreation.

In the Margins

2010-05-24T15:02:00.004+03:00

I confess that I've spent the last five months working. As much as I'd like to keep this blog somewhat entertaining, I was perusing my photos for 2010 and realized how little I've done that might thrill or excite. The only travel I've done is work related and even many of the social functions I've attended were, I'm afraid, connected to my job. Alas, it's probably best I don't keep readership statistics.

I do have vacation coming so don't give up hope that I might say or post something interesting.

World Economic Forum
And so it continues. A week and a half ago I attended an event of the World Economic Forum (Africa). It was an event targeting partnerships of non-governmental organizations, government and private sector. The WEF in general is a pretty big deal with lots of suits and important people talking about how important they are. I sipped cocktails with a few of them and had some nice snacks. While we have connections with the government, the private sector doesn't have a lot of reason to do business with us. There are a lot of cool ways that business is getting involved with development around the world but refugees in this country don't have a lot of freedoms that are necessary to connect aid organizations with the private sector. Nonetheless, it's fascinating to hear about what is being done and new models for lifting up the economic "bottom billion".

Europe Day
I also attended a Europe Day function hosted by the European Delegation here in Dar. I met the Head of Delegation (ambassador) a few weeks ago and he said he'd make sure I got invited even though I'm not a card-carrying European (though more than ten years in Europe and two years with the European Commission should at least get me a free drink). He and I chatted about the theme "Living on the Margins" in which he's been looking into what he can do for some of these disenfranchised people groups in this society (disabled, albinos, etc.). I told him that we work with disabled refugees and are exploring ways of ramping up what we do. He seemed interested and said I should meet some of the people he's been meeting with. He really wants to use his position to make a difference and I have to say, this is not a bad way to do it. He said, "It's going to be great. My place (his huge official residence) is going to be teeming with disabled people – a big change from the usually snobbery." It was pretty cool, I have to say.

The event was connected to a number of other events to bring attention to these people who live on the margins of this society. As he said, normally these are rather dull affairs in which, like the event above, important people stand around talking about their importance. Or people discuss who they saw at the yacht club the past weekend. Or they recount the events of their last holiday abroad. This was a bit different. Albinos, poor people, disabled in wheel chairs, orphans and so forth were in abundance. Though many of the usual suits sequestered themselves to discuss whatever, others seemed to be mixing it up with the representatives from the marginalized groups. The message, as he stated in his speech, is not that we should collectively feel sorry for the marginalized. It's that we should stop marginalizing them. Hire them. Buy their products. Greet them on the street. Treat them as equals.

Isolated events often contribute little to sustainable change. However it's hopeful that the relationships established will go a long ways to making a difference. As we work with the marginalized with the refugee population (sort of a marginalization within a marginalization), it gave me a bit of a boost. Good to see that people are out there making things happen. We have some significant struggles to get support for such things in a refugee camp but maybe there is some interest out there.

Refugee Update

2010-05-10T10:37:00.002+03:00

It's been a while since I've provided an update as to what is going on with the refugee situation, in part because little has changed recently. Nonetheless, I feel that it is my duty to provide a meagre attempt at keeping the topic on the table lest you all get too distracted by other nasty things going on in the world.

Now you may or may not care about the plight of thousands of people whom you don't know. Or maybe you're thinking "I too would like to be publicly critical about events in a far away land that I've never visited, and perhaps make snide remarks at cocktail parties about other peoples' activism efforts, but I just don't feel confident enough in my background knowledge." Maybe I can help.

Starting with the 36,000 Burundians, they are in a camp that consists of refugees from what were seven Burundian refugee camps just a couple of years ago. They are in a challenging situation where the patience of the local government in hosting these people (since 1993) has worn rather thin. A ceasefire was signed in 2006 and people on this side of the border have sort of said enough already – the guests that are invited to dinner but for various reasons decide not to leave. Many hints have been dropped that the welcome has been overstayed (services provided to them are limited to the bare minimum), but the guests won't budge. They're looking for other options than going home, or hopefully, waiting for the right time to go home.

Speaking of home, one interesting statistic is that just over 20,000 of these refugees are under 18. This means that most in the camp have never even lived in Burundi and they are trying to come to grips with the idea that they need to leave the only place they've ever known to go to a place everyone is referring to as their "home". It's healthy to try to wrap your brain around that one.

Next month is the Burundian presidential election. There are many people watching, including us, to see if all goes well. Elections are always considered to be a good time to go to that closet and dust off the machete. Though there is some tension in the air, all indication so far is that the election will go smoothly. If so, we might start to see some refugees boarding trucks and heading "back" across the border. For now patience is being exercised on the part of all the main stakeholders – the people who are funding this operation, the people that are carrying out the humanitarian work needed to support them and, more importantly, the people that are hosting them. In this case, no news is good news.

In the Congolese camp, things are a bit different. This group of nearly 60,000 people, mostly from South Kivu in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), are still fully aware of the dangers that currently exist in their home country. Though they are generally less interested in staying in Tanzania than their Burundian counterparts, they also are keenly aware of the atrocities that are rampant in their home country. The well-documented raping of women by both rebels and soldiers so far doesn't seem to have abated. Children, rather than learning where the "backspace" key is on a laptop are learning proper care and maintenance of an AK-47. The fighting continues and the underlying economic incentives that are fueling the attacks, though often portrayed as ideological, have not changed.

The hope is that the government in the DRC is able to bring some stability to this region which is so remote from the nation's power center. It's difficult to see how that will happen. Their current plans are to rid themselves of the much-criticized international military support (MONUC) and fully run the show themselves (with the help of international resources rather than soldiers). A colleague of mine once said that the only thing worse than having MONUC in the DRC is not having them there. We may soon find out.

Can the situation get worse? Many say that it can. It's a sobering thought. Since the arrival of the white man in the 1870's, the Congo has been in various states of turmoil. It's due for a break.

When Writers Overuse When

2010-04-25T19:32:00.002+03:00

I try to read one of the Tanzanian newspapers every day. I don't always get it done but I'll usually catch up on the ones I missed over the weekend. Other than the information that is directly or indirectly tied to my job, it's important to know what's going on in the world around you and what issues are important to the citizens of the country. One trend I've noticed over the past couple of years is that some of the writers are overextending themselves. There's one lady in particular that works for the Guardian that writes the drippiest prose I've ever read. Her style might be better suited for trashy novels rather than news. Or maybe she should change occupations altogether.

There's also this constant temptation to begin titles of articles with "When". Ugh. Someone must have seen it and thought it was clever. Then it caught on and now it's spreading like cholera.

Union Day

Monday is Union Day. It's a holiday here so I will celebrate by working from home. I've blogged about Union Day before. It's sort of a weird thing in that I don't know anyone who gets very excited about it. It does commemorate the day, 46 years ago, that mainland Tanzania (at that time called Tanganyika) joined with Zanzibar and became Tanzania. I think there'd be more enthusiasm if there weren't so many people on that beloved island who would like to bail from the union. With all the talk and movement towards an East African Community (Tanzania, Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, Burundi), seems like independence wouldn't be worth the trouble. Anyway, there will be a show of celebration downtown with speeches and so forth. Most people I think are just happy to have the day off.

Bugged

My first sip of coffee this morning contained something that felt a bit like a soft bean, like from a bowl of chili or something. I was concentrating on problematic emails but as my lethargic morning brain caught on that this was a foreign object, I removed and inspected it. Sure enough, a brownish colored beetle had somehow made its way to my cup and eventually my mouth. I was in the office so I was drinking filtered coffee. One advantage to this is that most little critters get boiled and/or filtered before they would ever get to the pot. The only thing that I can think of is that the unsuspecting beetle chose this particular cup, though stored upside down, as an unfortunate resting place during the night. While my tainted morning coffee was my annoyance, it was his kiss of death.

The rainy season brings out the bugs. Mosquitoes seem to be on the increase. Cockroaches as well. A few weeks ago I was retrieving something from underneath the kitchen sink. It was evening and the cupboard was dark. As I reached into the cupboard I saw something dart towards the shadows in the back. Never without ammunition, I whipped out my beloved can of Doom (clever name for highly toxic bug spray) and aimed it in the general vicinity of the little monster. Within seconds of the spray, dozens (I kid you not) of roaches of all sizes came pouring out towards my feet. The Doom had apparently sent them choking in search of clean air. It was a creepy scene. I practically emptied the can as I blasted the little creatures (some not so little) left and right as they came out of their fox hole. Some managed to get by me and I chased them down to make sure there were no survivors. In the aftermath, corpses strewn across the kitchen, I had to abandon the battlefield. The thick stench of the chemical warfare meant that it was time for me to seek out breathable air. The battle is won but the war is far from over.

Visit by the High Commissioner

2010-04-18T19:22:00.002+03:00

One of the enjoyable aspects of my current position is the ability to meet and interact with interesting people from all over the world and at different levels in the food chain. This past week, the Tanzania refugee operations received a visit by the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, António Guterres. First of all, who UNHCR? It is the massive UN agency that deals with refugees and other displaced people from around the world, currently in over 110 countries. In Tanzania our organization works with a number of other organizations under the umbrella of (and a good deal of funding from) UNHCR.

As to who is Mr. Gutterez, he's actually a pretty interesting guy. He was the Prime Minister of Portugal from 1995 to 2002 and was appointed High Commissioner for Refugees by Kofi Annan in 2005. His visit to Tanzania, his first since 2006, was to last less than a week but he would cover a lot of ground. He started off meeting with the TZ Prime Minister among other important government people. It's always important to start off with such visits, not only as a matter of courtesy but it's also good to sort out some of the sticky issues. It's obvious that with an organization who is overseeing thousands of people living in a foreign/host country, there will likely be something to talk about. Gutterez later said that the topic foremost in the minds of the government was the presence of 36,000 Burundians who are refusing to return to Burundi. It's been foremost in my mind over the last three years as well.

On Monday night I was invited to drinks and dinner at a nice restaurant in Dar es Salaam to meet Mr. Guterrez and mingle with some other important folks. I hadn't seen the guest list but I'd assumed it'd be a large crowd. As it was, I was wrong. Only 12, including Guterrez's small entourage, would be in attendance. Very cool indeed. It was a rare opportunity to chat with the EU Ambassador (Head of Delegation), Guterrez himself and several other important people. Topics ranged from the refugee situation to some amazing and creative work being done with the disabled to the history of the Portuguese colonial effort. With Guterrez I took advantage of the situation to impress upon him that we need to re-start primary education in Mtabila camp, something that has been stopped for a year (two years for some of them). Not only is this a good idea for these kids, it happens to be one of those things we call a human right. I knew basically what he was going to say (it's complicated and delicate topic) and he knew that I knew. I still felt I had to say something.

After the dinner, we walked out towards the parking lot. One attendee asked me where my driver had parked. Though I enjoy the use of a driver while in the field, I am my own driver in Dar. I smiled, humbly pulled the keys to my Toyota out of my pocket, and drove the short distance home.

The next day we had a formal meeting. It was most of the people from the night before with at least a dozen others who are all stakeholders of some kind in refugee operations. When it was my turn to give a small briefing, I yet again mentioned the education-deprived children in my description of what our organization does (or wished it was allowed to do). I thanked him for the good collaboration our organization has with his (which is true) and told him that I looked forward to continued partnership with them in finding durable solutions for the remaining refugees. I refrained from mentioning that I appreciated the Tanzania team providing snacks at the meeting (rare for them) and that they finally got their air conditioning functioning. He should visit more often.

Rainy Season

2010-04-04T16:48:00.002+03:00

Rather abruptly, the rainy season has begun. My last evening in Nairobi, after some sedentary days working long hours, I was more than ready to go for a run. I walked out of the meeting room to find a driving rain. For some it would be disheartening. For me, it was invigorating. I said farewell to a few colleagues who were heading to the airport, hurried back to my room and put on my running gear. I asked the concierge for some advice as to where to go since I don't know Nairobi that well. The guy looked at me like I had something wrong with me to want to go for a run in this weather. He sort of pointed in one direction and, without much confidence in his suggestion, I headed out.

In spite of the rain, the sidewalks of Waiyaki Way were full of people, most with no umbrellas. I weaved in and out of the crowds focusing on the uneven "sidewalk" and trying not to twist an ankle. I was completely soaked within minutes but the exercise, cool air and rain felt good. As I got further away from the city center, the people thinned and I could spend more time taking in my surroundings. I think that Nairobi could be a great city if it could reel in the whole crime thing. It's a massive problem and locals tell me it's getting worse. Our security briefing at the beginning of the week sounded more like Afghanistan than East Africa. Nonetheless, it seemed to me that the bad guys were not likely to be interested in working in the rain and there's little to take from a sweaty jogger.

On the return, as I neared the hotel, I heard a loud honk from behind. I turned around and saw a small bus (matatu) headed straight for me on the sidewalk. People were diving out of the way, as did I. I'd heard that the police were cracking down on their crazy driving and in general I'd seen remarkable improvement since the last time I was in the city. Nonetheless, there are some that are still taking the liberty of using the sidewalk as the fast lane.

I was out for about 45 min. and arrived at the hotel drenched, muddy and happy. The concierge smiled, shook his head and opened the door. I apologized for dripping all over the hotel lobby and he just kept smiling and shaking his head. "Hamna shida," he said. No problem.

Now back in Dar, the rain continues. Long Easter weekend and, due to travel and exhaustion, Priya and I decided to stick around. The city seems quiet and it's a nice time to regroup, get some things done and prepare for another busy stretch from now until our summer holidays. The UNHCR High Commissioner arrives week after next from Geneva. I've met the Deputy High Commissioner but this is the HC's first visit since I've been in my current position. At the same time we're bringing on new senior staff and there'll be a trip or two out to the camps. I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

Mombasa and Nairobi

2010-03-29T11:32:00.003+03:00

The last two weeks (mostly) I spent in Kenya. I had regional meetings in Mombasa and then a week in Nairobi for other meetings. All in all it was a productive time and I have to say that I enjoyed the learning and interaction with my colleagues from other country programs. I know it sounds like I'm writing this for the spies of my organization who are monitoring my blog to make sure I don't say anything problematic but it's not the case. It's a skilled and experienced group of people and for the most part they are fun to hang out with. Not everyone can say that about their colleagues.

Mombasa is on the coast north of Dar so the climate is basically the same. It was sort of like being in Dar except that I was surrounded by chubby, sunburnt Europeans. The hotel we were staying in was a massive complex with over 300 rooms and lots of amenities, most of which went unused by the guests except the buffet and the beach chairs.

I spent most of the time in meetings and keeping up with work in Tanzania. I didn't even touch the ocean until Saturday, at week's end. The main reason was that I had tons to do. And some of the exoticism of the location was lost on me given its similarity to the Tanzanian coast.

One thing that was interesting is how different my work is compared to my counterparts. Historically our various country operations were primarily refugee oriented. Now, as the world is changing and many of these "minor" wars are drawing to a close, the efforts have transitioned from camps to post-conflict operations and supporting these fragile countries in sustaining the peace. This involves a number of initiatives, many of them resemble normal development programs. In my region (organizational in nature rather than geographic, from Tanzania to Sierra Leone) we are the only country program with camp-based operations. The differences are rather striking when you look at the challenges facing the different country programs. My counterparts are facing competitive funding challenges and operations that do much through local partnerships (for example funding a local NGO to implement activities). Refugee operations have more of a fixed structure and activities are more defined - partitioned off between different NGOs (implementing partners) as determined by UNHCR. While they are constantly battling for funding and redefining their role in their countries, my primary challenges are focused on the actual implementation of activities in the much more intense environment of refugee camps.

To compare the challenges is a bit like comparing apples to oranges. There are commonalities for sure. Managing hundreds of employees in sub-Saharan Africa is one commonality and one that eats up an exorbitant amount of our time. Logistics and security are also similar challenges and it's in those areas that I found the best fodder for tapping into the experiences of my colleagues. In the end we probably all have a similar scope of challenges, just not always the same ones.

On Saturday I finally did something besides work. It was well deserved if I do say so myself. Several weeks ago a couple of colleagues based in NY, Scott and Alec, launched the idea of going scuba diving in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Mombasa. Given that I had a "free" weekend before going to meetings in Nairobi and I needed to step away from the computer, I was in.

We went down the coast a ways to another beach hotel, checked out gear and headed out on a small boat. The weather was good and the water was fairly calm. I was rapidly trying to remember all of my diving rules and procedures as we motored out to the reef. As we put on our gear I occasionally glanced over at the dive guide to make sure I was doing what he was doing. As Alec said, "As long as I know how to breathe under water, I'm ok." While the simplicity of the statement was comforting, I fortunately know that there's more to it than that.

We tipped back into the water, reformed out little group and started descending. I was immediately uncomfortable as my mask started filling with water and my ears refused to equalize. I stopped descending, cleared my mask, grabbed my nose and blew. Finally I felt a pop in my left ear and heard something "adjust". Satisfied that all was in order, I continued further down. At about 10 meters we were on the bottom and the colorful little fishies started to appear. After a few minutes I began to feel more comfortable though my mask continued to leak. We were able to dive for about 45 min. and then ascended back to the boat. It was good to be in the water and good to be doing something besides work for an afternoon. After climbing in the boat, we removed our gear and headed back to shore. We had a quick beer on a bluff overlooking the Indian Ocean and then proceeded back to the hotel.

The only drawback to the diving experience was the ear infection I got afterward (and still have). It has been by far the worst ear infection I've ever had. I went to the doctor when I arrived in Nairobi and got some ear drops and antibiotics. In addition to the headaches and plugged ear, I have had an almost non-stop flow of pus oozing out of my left ear. It gives a nice impression in meetings to have droplets dangling off the earlobe eventually moistening my shirt. Worse is the artistic design left on my hotel pillow, mitigated somewhat by the use of a bath towel. Oh well, it was worth it.

Having returned to Dar, I am back to the grind. Priya is still out in the field not to arrive until Wednesday. Seems like a long time since we've been in the same place at the same time. We'll have a couple weeks in Dar and then it's off to the airport again. And so it goes. Not sure what we're doing for Easter but I'm sort of hoping it doesn't involve an airplane.

Evenings with Ambassadors

2010-03-20T11:27:00.005+03:00

The more interesting (blog worthy) stuff happens, the less I have time to write it up and post it. Such is the case these days.

The American Reception

About a week and a half ago I was invited to a reception at the US Ambassador's house. I hadn't met him yet though he arrived in country late last year. Other than being a US expatriate in Tanzania, my organization does have a considerable amount of US funding and it does make sense that our paths would cross before too long.

I have to say, I was pretty impressed with the man. It was a relatively short visit but I do have the impression that he's very articulate and he already seems to know more about the country than his predecessor. He's a retired Major General from the US Army and has held a number of other high level positions since. He committed himself to traveling to all the corners of the country starting with areas where the US is carrying out and/or funding activities. In fact he was headed out to see the refugee camps the following Monday. I had to apologize that I wouldn't be there due to my regional meetings in Mombasa, Kenya. In any case, I have to say, it's nice to have someone representing your country who is a class act. It's not always the case.

The Irish Ball

Last Saturday we attended the Irish Ball in Dar es Salaam. It's held every year, hosted by the Irish Embassy, but it's the first time that we've been. It's a rather pricey event but it's fun to do something like this once in a while.

The evening began with a large reception with the Irish Ambassador and a governor from Ireland who happened to be in the country. The Ambassador I'd met a year ago or so in a meeting with the Irish Minister of State when they were working together on the politically sensitive move to resettle 60 refugees to Ireland. The reception offered people an endless supply of champagne and Guinness prior to moving into the banquet room.

We were there thanks to the invitation of our Irish friend Elaine and her husband Tende (a couple whose wedding we attended last year, meriting a blog entry). The tackily (I know it's not a word) decorated ballroom actually added to the light-hearted nature of the evening. There was traditional Irish dancing, a whacky speech from the governor, a bottle of Irish whisky, Baileys and a couple of bottles of wine on every table and a wonderful selection of traditional Irish music. I have to say, Irish culture is so rich and attractive that, as an old Irish friend of mine in Switzerland used to say, "makes everyone wish they were Irish."

Throughout the evening I often thought back to my trip to Ireland in the summer of 1992. It consisted of a loop from Dublin, up to a recently-bombed and tense Belfast, across to the Aran Islands, down the western coast on bicycle to the Ring of Kerry and then to over to Cork. Unlike many travel destinations that don't quite match up to what you think they're going to be, for me, Ireland, with its charming pubs, welcoming people, old castles, etc. was better.

Blowouts and Battles

2010-03-06T12:49:00.003+03:00

First the Blowout

In the case that you thought that I was exaggerating in a previous blog posting, a skid landing this past week of an ATC airplane at an airport in Tanzania gives the impression that I probably wasn't.

Though the details are not yet clear, reports that have come out state that all four rear tires of a Boeing 737 burst on landing at the Mwanza airport. The plane slid to a stop in the mud off to the side of the runway. No one was injured but there were plenty that were pretty traumatized by the whole thing and were taken to a hospital.

Now this wasn't the same plane I was on when we had a blowout (and a flat) upon landing in Dar a couple weeks ago, but it was the same airline. It could be an unfortunate coincidence or it could be an indicator that they are having some maintenance problems.

Then the Battles

It's not often that Tanzanians are tested in battle. In spite of this infrequent practice in sparring with enemies, they seem to hold their own quite well.

The Tanzanian military participated in the struggle to liberate Mozambique, Zimbabwe, South Africa and Uganda (they all ended up being liberated, by the way). Their most significant involvement was in the Uganda-Tanzania War following a Ugandan invasion into Tanzania in 1978. Idi Amin had long accused Tanzania of backing his enemies. Amin invaded Tanzanian territory on 1 November 1978 and announced the annexation of Kagera Region to Uganda. Tanzania responded like a hammer and in short order took Kampala. Amin was forced to flee the country. The reign of the "Last King of Scotland" ended.

So last week pirates attacked a Tanzanian-flagged ship in the Gulf of Aden. This is that nasty little stretch of water off the tourist-free coast of Somalia. According to the US Navy, the crew of the ship successfully fended off the pirates until the USS Farragut, a US destroyer that was patrolling in the area, arrived and busted the bad guys. This is a rare victory against increasingly organized and impressively armed pirates

Tanzanians, in spite of their reputation as a peaceful people, are probably not people you want to mess with. This is not the same for all such peaceful countries. While I was living in Switzerland, I had several friends who were part of the Swiss Armed Forces. I'm sorry but this is not a tough group of people. Military service is mandatory for male citizens and, by their own admission, they're not a motivated bunch of warriors. This conscripted army works similar to the US Reserves in America where you are committed to just a couple weeks a year (until you're in your 50's) unless otherwise needed by your country. In 1989 while I was living there, a popular initiative was launched which aimed to eliminate the Swiss military altogether. One Swiss friend of mine said at the time that the only reason the initiative failed was because the military served other needs than just assembling beds in bomb shelters. Apparently the men were happy to get away from the house for a couple weeks every year to drink beer with their buddies (and the women were apparently happy about it as well).

It's unlikely that the Swiss would ever go to war anytime soon but this past week Muammar Qaddafi did decide to declare a jihad against them for voting to ban minarets (though me thinks it MAY have had something to do with the Swiss arresting his son a couple years ago for beating two servants). I doubt it will catch on with other world leaders since most of them have their money in Swiss banks and/or their kids in Swiss boarding schools.

The Swiss don't seem worried. They have other important things on their minds. Swiss voters will go to the polls tomorrow (Sunday) to decide on a proposal to appoint state-funded lawyers across the country to represent animals in court. Not kidding.

Something Fishy Going On

2010-02-24T10:10:00.005+03:00

One of the nice things about being in Dar es Salaam is living by the ocean. Growing up land-locked, I never even set foot in the sea until I was a teenager. It wasn't until about two decades later that I would actually live by the ocean in Monterey, California. It was a wonderful thing, I have to say. Even though I still generally prefer rugged mountains, the ocean is quite a magical place – the physical beauty that always seems to be changing, the ocean air, hanging out at the beach, swimming, snorkeling, diving, etc.

And then there's the food. Life in Monterey gave me an appreciation for seafood that I have maintained ever since. Over the past five years of living in Tanzania, most of which has been spent living next to the Indian Ocean, I have continued to take advantage of what the sea has to offer. Off the coast of Dar es Salaam there are well over 400 species of fish, many of which are edible.

lunch on Bongoyo Island

Recently, however, I found out something disturbing about this wonderful fish that I've been eating. One of the challenges in selling fish in the tropics is that the heat makes the fish go bad quickly. Also, due to the challenges and cost in accessing ice and refrigeration, other means are being sought to keep from tossing the rotting catch of the day if it's not sold within a short time. In the newspaper a few weeks ago there was a story about fisherman in Dar es Salaam and the Coast Region using formalin to preserve fish. When I read this, it didn't sound good though I wasn't sure exactly what formalin was. Enter Google. Formalin is the aqueous solution of formaldehyde, a highly toxic chemical compound famous for embalming dead human beings. Yes, you heard it right folks; we're eating the stuff they put in corpses to keep them fresh enough for us to say good-bye to them.

the Dar es Salaam fish market

Allegedly users are directed to use one cupful of the chemical diluted in a ten-liter bucket of water used to store about three hundred kilos of fish. In doing so, the fish can stay for at least three to four days without decomposing. Then, when the fish is sent to the market, it has to be washed and soaked in water for at least one or two hours before being displayed to buyers.

Though this is new to me, this is not new. Other countries are apparently aware of this practice including a similar scandal in Vietnam in 2007. Here in Tanzania this could be all conspiracy theory but based upon what I know about some other business practices, it does seem to make sense.

formalin free

At first glance you might be saying, how bad can it be? I mean maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this is like "botox for the rest of me." Maybe a regular dose of formalin will keep you feeling young for centuries.

Alas no. Medical experts say formalin causes disorders in the oral cavity, the gastrointestinal tract, liver, kidney, lung, heart, and the central nervous system in the early phase of reaction. The scary part is that with light dosages, you don't get sick right away. It can apparently accumulate in the system over time unbeknownst to you, the effects of which can cause health problems years later.

Great. So now I'm off fish. I'm sure there are all kinds of toxins coursing through my veins already but this one doesn't sound like much fun. Pass the mutton.

Fire Follow-up

2010-02-15T07:49:00.000+03:00

Yes, the fire turned out to be legit. It gutted the travel agency on the ground floor. The good news was that the cement walls of these structures limits the ability for the fire to spread. A wood-framed building would have been a different story.

So there wasn't much danger of the building collapsing or anything. The biggest concern for our offices, and the biggest concern about going back in the building, was smoke. In ended up being smokier in the stairwells than I thought and I did feel it in my throat the rest of the day. I'm removing necktie from my list of authorized breathing masks.

There were two theories about the cause of the fire: faulty wiring or insurance scam. This time it seems to be the former.

Never a Dull Moment

2010-02-14T12:01:00.002+03:00

I always try to plan my days in advance – what I'm going to do and when. And it's generally a useless activity. As much as I try to organize myself and guide the direction of things, the obstacles that come at me on any given day defy prediction. It's more unpredictable in the field but even in Dar it has its moments.

On Monday we arrived at the office about 6:45am as we normally do. The Finance Controller and I ducked off into our respective offices and I began to address the hundreds of emails and various other tasks that I was unable to finish over the weekend. After about an hour and a half in the office, we got a call from our Logistics Officer who was downstairs telling us that there was a fire and that we needed to evacuate the building. By this time other staff had arrived in their offices and we all slowly started to make our way for the door, unsure whether or not this was for real. I took my laptop just in case.

As we filed down the stairs we began to smell smoke and I was starting to think that there may be something legitimate about this little evacuation. Sure enough, the lobby was filled with smoke and staff from offices throughout the seven floors of the building had already gathered outside. The smoke was coming from the left side of the building but it was hard to pinpoint exactly where. This biggest surprise was that a fire truck had already arrived and men dressed up as firemen were scurrying around. I'll refrain from directly giving them the title of fireman since, though they looked the part, I didn't actually see anyone appear to do anything that might contribute to putting out the fire. In fact, I was told that the fire truck didn't have any water. Now I don't claim to be an expert on fire fighting and I realize that an empty fire truck gets much better gas mileage than a full one, but that load of water would seem to come in handy when the men dressed as firemen confront an actual fire. As it was, I'm not sure what they were planning to do.

I didn't wait long. Having been out of the office for several weeks travelling to the field, I was obsessed with getting my work done. I told my colleagues to keep me posted and walked up the road to the Holiday Inn to hammer out some emails for a few minutes. I figured I'd come back, it would all be over, and we could all get back to work in our offices.

As I entered the hotel, a TV switched to CNN International blared the results of the Super Bowl (something I was going to try to avoid the entire day so that I could watch the game that night without knowing who the victor was). I settled in, did some work for about 45 min. and then headed back to the office. Upon arrival I noticed that the smoke was now coming out the other side of the building and there was still no sign of water or anything that might serve to extinguish a fire. Realizing that this was going to be a while, the Finance Controller and I decided that we'd go work from home. Before leaving, however, I was hoping to get some paperwork from my office. I noticed that every once in a while someone would enter or leave the building with their mouth covered so I figured that I could probably do the same. So I covered my mouth with my tie and our Operations Manager, John, and I headed in. Power was out in the building and we were using our cell phones for lights. The stairwell was rather creepy as it was filled with this horrid smoke and darkness. After making our way up the two flights of stairs, we arrived at the office door and, once inside, were protected from the hallway smoke. I grabbed my things and we turned to go back down. By now the smoke was making me a bit nauseated and I was looking forward to getting out of the building. We opened the door and sped down the stairs, passing one of the men dressed as a fireman.

Once outside, clothes reeking of smoke, we headed to the car. The rest of the team would keep me posted but they seemed confident that eventually the fire would be extinguished and they'd be able to re-enter the office. They were right and by afternoon they were back at work. My work day took a few other weird turns which had me running all over the city so it turned out to be irrelevant whether I'd waited out the fire or not. Never a dull moment.

Back in the Heat

2010-02-05T18:45:00.004+03:00

I'm finally back in Dar after a long trip to the field. It's been busy but a good few weeks of meetings, working with staff, emails, etc. Not much time to relax, even on weekends, but that's how these trips are supposed to go. I'm not in the field all the time so I need to take advantage the time that I'm there. But I'm exhausted.

One of the things I was doing was checking out our construction in the village of Makere. With the beginning of our operations in the Congolese camp (Nyarugusu), we needed to construct offices and housing to accommodate our staff who will be stationed there.

Makere sits a couple of kilometers away from the camp and makes it easier for staff to get back and forth to work. Our field office is well over an hour away and less time on the road not only saves resources, it's safer. Random banditry is a concern out here near the border and it's always good to spend less time on the road.

The camp has increased to around 63,000 people. It's the last remaining refugee camp of Congolese in the country but they don't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. Repatriation has come to a standstill and there are signs that people are still trying to make their way here. Violence in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) continues and moves around preventing people from returning to their homes.

Blow Out

The flight back was actually quite nice. We were on time. The weather was good. We had a hot meal. No one annoying next to me. All was good. Until the landing. I was jotting some notes down in a notebook as the plane touched the ground. The sound of the landing was louder than normal and the flight attendant was immediately summoned to the cockpit even as we were still speeding down the runway. Upon touching down we'd blown a tire and the pilot's sensor went off. He was having her go do a physical check.

The plane is a 50-seater Bombardier Dash 8. The landing gear consists of a pair of tires on each side that are retractable from the wings. As we got out of the plane, and started crossing the tarmac towards the terminal, I stopped to look around to the other side of the plane to check out the tire. To my surprise, both tires were flat. We'd been rolling on rims and the pilot had done a pretty skilful job of keeping control of the plane. The discussion in the baggage claim seemed to point to one tire blowing on touchdown and the second eventually giving way between then and when we stopped. Keeps things interesting.

Onward Home

I shared a lift home with the head of another organization who also works with refugees. He's a very cool Scandinavian guy that lives near us and I've known him since I lived in Kibondo. As the driver skilfully navigated the Dar traffic, air conditioner on high, we chatted about the refugee situation. Times like this are valuable for information sharing. As is often the case, he knew a lot of things I didn't and vice versa. It's a difficult line of work sometimes and it's always good to empathize with one another.

Breathless after the humid march up several flights of stairs with my bags, I opened the door. After a few weeks away, I immediately scanned the apartment looking for dead plants or flooding and sniffed for the pungent smell of something rotten. Overall, all was well. Good to be home.

The Wild West

2010-01-29T19:08:00.001+03:00

I've never thought Kigoma to be a tough town. It has dirt roads (though bisected by a 5k stretch of tarmac), ditches full of garbage, loads of poverty, etc. but the inhabitants are generally a rather sedate bunch of people. It's perched on hillsides overlooking the beautiful Lake Tanganyika and, when clear enough, the hills of the Democratic Republic of Congo across the water. Traffic is generally slow and relatively orderly. There are a few beggars but they generally just sit there and hold out their cupped and hopeful hands. Sellers, for the most part, wait for you to come to them rather than following you around as they do in Zanzibar.

Generally it's not a threatening place. Yesterday, however, was a different story and it's quite possible I've been missing the seamy underbelly of Kigoma town. We were sitting at our hotel eating our much delayed dinner overlooking the lake. The sun had set and it was rather a business-as-usual evening. One other Tanzanian couple sat across the way, finished with dinner and sipping on sodas. Suddenly a very large man enters the circular eating area, approaches the couple and starts scuffling with the much smaller, seated, younger man. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the movement but it initially seemed to be the jostling of friends rather than the commencement of a bloody fight. It actually shouldn't be considered a fight which implies that both sides were engaged. It was basically one tall, muscular guy pummeling the smaller guy until a large group arrived to break it up.

Carmen, Priya and I rose to our feet as we began to realize what was going on. Things were happening quickly and I wasn't sure what to do. There are no clear patterns for how these play out. Sometimes they flare up and then calm quickly once a point has been made. Other times they flare up, others join in and true chaos ensues. This was somewhere in between. Though they were able to separate the big guy and eventually get him out of the gate of the hotel compound, he returned occasionally looking for the younger man (who had subsequently been hidden somewhere within the compound behind the hotel) and before again being forcefully escorted back out.

From the time I realized what was going on, my mind was immediately taken back a few years to when we lived in Dar the first time. I think it was one of my early blog postings where I described an incident when, awoken at 2am by the sound of a woman screaming from within our apartment compound, I descended the stairs and went to an adjacent house to find a woman being punched in the head by a fairly large man. I entered the room, past a motionless guard, to try to break up the fight. Long story short, we found out later that it was a prostitute apparently trying to get a higher price that was initially agreed upon. He refused. She screamed to pressure him to pay. He started beating. Hard to know whether or not to get involved when something like this happens – especially when you don't know exactly what's going on and you are in a culture other than your own. In the case of this woman, it was probably the right thing to do regardless of what we found out later.

In the case of the big guy and the little guy, I'm still not sure. He was pretty well smacked around before we realized what was going on. After it was broken up they took him behind the hotel (within the compound) to hide him. The big guy and is posse continued to wait outside the gate. It eventually ended with the little guy apparently being escorted out by police a couple of hours later, possibly for his own safety. Not sure what would have happened if the big guy got his hands on the little guy since, even after sending a bold message by messing the guy up pretty badly, he was determined for more. I'm thinking he might not have stopped. It was sort of a sick thought for all of us as we did our best to finish our dinner a few feet away from the blood-splattered floor.

The same evening in Kigoma there was a fight in a bar where one of our colleagues was having a drink and earlier in the day a man killed his wife with a machete. Don't know Kigoma well enough to know if this is common. No full moon. Maybe it was just a bad day out in the West.

Elections

2010-01-27T08:51:00.002+03:00

I arrived in Kigoma several days ago. The driver was waiting for me at the airport as is customary. He tossed my bag into the Land Cruiser and we headed off towards town. As we approached the main street, he took a sudden right turn down a rough dirt road. I looked at him with a bit of surprise (similar to the one I gave the lady next to me on the plane who decided to use her complimentary toothpick to work out the dirt in her toenails; things like that generally don't get a rise out of me here but on this particular occasion I was in the process of eating my airplane breakfast of dry bread and marmalade – a tragic British colonial legacy).

I didn't know this driver well and he was putting my pathetic Swahili to the test. Either his English wasn't that great or he just felt that I could use a language lesson or both. So I began to inquire about his taking of a side road when the main street, though not great, is far from the spine-jarring experience I was currently getting. I eventually understood "road construction".

"Ahh," I said in brilliant Swahili to communicate that I finally understood (actually, it does sound different. It's more of an "eh heh").

He smiled and this time spoke in English. "Erections," he said. Knowing of course that people here have similar phonetic troubles with the English "r" and "l" as many other countries, I drew the conclusion that he was making between the road improvements and the upcoming elections later this year. At least I hoped so.

Though people seem to be making a big deal of the elections here this year, the ruling party is virtually guaranteed another five years in office. Though there are other parties, and even some dissent within the ruling party, it will likely not stand in the way of the current president's re-election.

Unlike in Argentina at the end of 2002. That year, due to some bizarre experiences, they apparently had three different presidents over a ten-day period. The running joke at the time was something to the effect of, "So what did you do over the holidays?" "I was president."

Though the outcome of the elections in this country could have some effect on our work here, it's nothing compared to the potential impact of elections across the border in Burundi in June. There the outcome is far from certain and the chance for instability greater. Most feel that though there may be some isolated trouble in the run up to the election, chances of large scale civil war that drove these people into refugee camps are small. All eyes (around here) will be watching.