The headline is probably painfully cliché by now (I have no access to the media, but I can imagine the magnitude of Obama-mania sweeping the country right now), but before you roll your eyes or throw up a little in your month, bear with me. The last time I posted a blog, it was from the Royal Solwezi Hotel where my fellow Americans and I pulled an all nighter, my first in years, to view the American elections. Glued to the television for hours, eating the most American foods we could find on the menu (mac ‘n cheese), playing protest songs on our ipods (Bruce Springstein), that distinctive mixture of excitement and trepidation that precedes most momentous occasions was thick in the air.
Eight hours and many caffeinated drinks later, my heart swelled. After Obama gave his victory speech, the hope I hadn’t allowed myself to feel finally burst, breaking the dam that had pent up my closeted optimism. Deep wells of conflicting emotion emerged. I was proud of America, but I also felt guilty for not having expected high standards of her. The feeling of being wrong was one of pure joy and also shame.
The undeniable thing was that this moment was history. My parents remember when Kennedy was assassinated, when man landed on the moon, when Nelson Mandela was freed. After 9/11, I will remember this day more than any other. A testament to the United States. Proof that the dream Americans hold of making something of themselves, of making our country better, is not one held in vain. The day American people of color were convinced that you really can be anyone you want, do anything you want, and that one person can be the impetus for worldwide change.
I have debated the question internally for a long time: how is change best created? For years I worked for institutions, believing that operating within existing systems was the best way to change them, and convincing myself that those changes inevitably effect the population as a whole and consequently move society forward. But corporations, The White House, think tanks, and the Department of Justice were all gigantic stepping stones that lead me downwards. I felt weighted by the sluggishness with which those organizations slowly chip away at barriers on the fringes and shift paradigms in the margins. Knowing that I saved someone from paying an extra few cents on bleach was important in protecting the free market and a competitive economy, but it was not inspiring. Anyone who knows me will tell you I am impatient, for better or worse, immediate gratification motivates me. So every red tape barrier drove me deeper into the ground, finally reaching the grassroots.
I chose to move to Zambia and work in the field (er, bush) to observe the flipside of public service. I sought to gain a holistic view of the sector from the ground up, to experience change on a personal level and observe it happening in a perceivable way. I thought that here I could make an impression on one person at a time and that it would be tangible and evermore fulfilling. And of course, now that I am here, I am frustrated by reverse challenges. Only making a difference in the most miniscule way possible, denting the lives of a few thousand people at most, is grueling and painstaking work that can break your heart.
Just as despondency began to cast its shadow on my outlook, I mailed my ballot for Barack Obama. We wrote it in at the Peace Corps house, off a tiny unpaved back road of Solwezi, Zambia. It was thrilling, empowering, enfranchising, more than any vote of mine in America had been. I needed an outlet that granted me access to way the world’s biggest decisions are made. I needed to believe that though my work in the field may be inconsequential in changing the way the world works, it matters deeply to a community that would be otherwise overlooked, forgotten, or ignored.
Obama reminded me that the world is not binary. Whether talking about the left or right, or the unity of our fifty states, Obama’s message is one that can apply to so many realms. He reminded me that systemic change complements the work I do here, and that the work I had done in the past was not ineffectual. In hindsight, it is may seem obvious, even glib, to proclaim that both approaches to public service are symbiotic and important. But I had never believed this to be truer than on this day. My renewed cognizance of this fact injected some much needed positivity into my attitude and helped revive the spirit of my work here. And for that, I would seriously like to thank you, Mr. Barack Obama, the President Elect of the United States of America!
P.S.
I would also like to thank those friends of mine who poured their blood, sweat, and tears into his campaign. It is because of your sleepless nights and tireless efforts that this was made possible!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
If Wall Street Got Drunk…
Then someone should tell Bush that our sector is suffering from a potentially fatal hangover. Much worse than a mere headache, startups, especially non-profit ones, are being hit by a maelstrom of factors that may have terminal consequences for many organizations that don’t have the capacity to weather the storm. Though bailouts galore will not anchor the financial markets enough to reduce the impact of this tempest to zero, they at least provide some sails for the heaviest players in the game to stay afloat.
Meanwhile, nonprofits the size of FORGE have absolutely no protection against macroeconomic fluctuations that affect the pool of disposable income available to us from individual private donors, our primary source of funds. This fact, combined with the bad luck of being rejected in the final rounds of two large and prestigious grants, and not making as much money as we had hoped from a traditional fundraiser (fancy expensive dinner featuring Tom Brady, Giselle, etc.), have lead to dire straits for budgets in the field.
Last week our Programming Director informed us that Meheba had to make around 24,000,000 kwacha worth of budget cuts to remain operational through March1st. In perspective: over HALF of our budget needed to be slashed. The PMs hashed out some drastic changes, entire programs were cut, and 10 staff members (almost a quarter of our workforce) were laid off in total. The PMs took a pay cut in solidarity and decided to use the money toward creating a small severance package; but the timing of the announcement was brutal, only four days before pay day, leaving no time for employees to budget their money. However demoralizing the facts of the financial situation are, the suddenness of the situation was by far the worst part of the announcement, and it severely limited our ability to damage control.
In Meheba, there is no free market economy. There are NO other employers in the camp. Wages are standardized to already pittance levels and the World Food Programme is no longer providing food rations to anyone in the camp (including the elderly, disabled, orphans, and other vulnerable people) beginning January 1st. Unlike other camps where salaries are incentives for people to work, to lose your job in Meheba is to lose any possibility of having some livelihood. The only other option is to become a farmer, but cultivation has already begun, if you haven’t prepared your field already, it’s too late to start for this year’s harvest. Some of those let go include FORGE’s first employee ever, and all of the staff from FORGE’s first project.
Beyond our staff, the community is equally affected by the abruptness of our scale back. Vulnerable (mentally and physically disabled or orphaned) preschoolers who are already psychologically unstable now must completely change their schedule midterm and adjust to new teachers with no training overlap, who are unfamiliar with the new students (personally, linguistically, and culturally) and are taking on twice their previous workload. The example is one of many.
I made it through the emergency staff meeting that we held to announce the changes. I made it through nine of the lay offs, where the PMs stoically and calmly took turns repeating the same words over and over: “unfortunately,” “the reality of the situation,” “I am so sorry,” “absolutely nothing to do with your performance,” etc. Finally we reached the last one, an outreach worker named Given, who I personally manage for the health services project. Given’s coworker is his good friend (and mine) and holds the exact same position and was not being let go because of her certification has a psycho-social counselor. She was the first to cry all day. And then quietly, the tears just started flowing, leaving cool trails on my cheeks, evaporating quickly into the African heat.
Being a young manager, for all the advantages it holds in energy, innovation, optimism, dedication, freshness, and drive; my youth in this case did nothing but long for advice. I missed my dad, a seasoned manager who has supervised hundreds (maybe thousands?) of people and let go of a few in his time; someone who has navigated through organizational and financial turbulence with deliberate finesse and forward thinking. I have no tools to deal with this from a managerial stand point, nor from an emotional and psychological one. And none were given to me by the executive team that is equally as wet behind the ears as I am, and whose responsibilities, as is the case in any startup, are already spread paper thin.
Having grown up in the entrepreneurial culture of the bay area and then having worked for one of the largest bureaucracies in the world (the U.S. government), I had once concluded unequivocally that the latitude of having a youthful, flexible, approachable group of supervisors and employees would be the strongest advantage FORGE has to “Go get ‘em.” And that fact remains. But in this situation I see more clearly than ever the benefits traditional, conservative, and most importantly experienced, leadership can have in tempering instability.
Ironically, this whole experience may be exactly what develops all of us into more mature managers, ready to take on bad news and expertly handle it whenever it’s thrown our way. Unequivocally I look at this as an experience I look at as an opportunity to grow. Here’s hoping!
Meanwhile, nonprofits the size of FORGE have absolutely no protection against macroeconomic fluctuations that affect the pool of disposable income available to us from individual private donors, our primary source of funds. This fact, combined with the bad luck of being rejected in the final rounds of two large and prestigious grants, and not making as much money as we had hoped from a traditional fundraiser (fancy expensive dinner featuring Tom Brady, Giselle, etc.), have lead to dire straits for budgets in the field.
Last week our Programming Director informed us that Meheba had to make around 24,000,000 kwacha worth of budget cuts to remain operational through March1st. In perspective: over HALF of our budget needed to be slashed. The PMs hashed out some drastic changes, entire programs were cut, and 10 staff members (almost a quarter of our workforce) were laid off in total. The PMs took a pay cut in solidarity and decided to use the money toward creating a small severance package; but the timing of the announcement was brutal, only four days before pay day, leaving no time for employees to budget their money. However demoralizing the facts of the financial situation are, the suddenness of the situation was by far the worst part of the announcement, and it severely limited our ability to damage control.
In Meheba, there is no free market economy. There are NO other employers in the camp. Wages are standardized to already pittance levels and the World Food Programme is no longer providing food rations to anyone in the camp (including the elderly, disabled, orphans, and other vulnerable people) beginning January 1st. Unlike other camps where salaries are incentives for people to work, to lose your job in Meheba is to lose any possibility of having some livelihood. The only other option is to become a farmer, but cultivation has already begun, if you haven’t prepared your field already, it’s too late to start for this year’s harvest. Some of those let go include FORGE’s first employee ever, and all of the staff from FORGE’s first project.
Beyond our staff, the community is equally affected by the abruptness of our scale back. Vulnerable (mentally and physically disabled or orphaned) preschoolers who are already psychologically unstable now must completely change their schedule midterm and adjust to new teachers with no training overlap, who are unfamiliar with the new students (personally, linguistically, and culturally) and are taking on twice their previous workload. The example is one of many.
I made it through the emergency staff meeting that we held to announce the changes. I made it through nine of the lay offs, where the PMs stoically and calmly took turns repeating the same words over and over: “unfortunately,” “the reality of the situation,” “I am so sorry,” “absolutely nothing to do with your performance,” etc. Finally we reached the last one, an outreach worker named Given, who I personally manage for the health services project. Given’s coworker is his good friend (and mine) and holds the exact same position and was not being let go because of her certification has a psycho-social counselor. She was the first to cry all day. And then quietly, the tears just started flowing, leaving cool trails on my cheeks, evaporating quickly into the African heat.
Being a young manager, for all the advantages it holds in energy, innovation, optimism, dedication, freshness, and drive; my youth in this case did nothing but long for advice. I missed my dad, a seasoned manager who has supervised hundreds (maybe thousands?) of people and let go of a few in his time; someone who has navigated through organizational and financial turbulence with deliberate finesse and forward thinking. I have no tools to deal with this from a managerial stand point, nor from an emotional and psychological one. And none were given to me by the executive team that is equally as wet behind the ears as I am, and whose responsibilities, as is the case in any startup, are already spread paper thin.
Having grown up in the entrepreneurial culture of the bay area and then having worked for one of the largest bureaucracies in the world (the U.S. government), I had once concluded unequivocally that the latitude of having a youthful, flexible, approachable group of supervisors and employees would be the strongest advantage FORGE has to “Go get ‘em.” And that fact remains. But in this situation I see more clearly than ever the benefits traditional, conservative, and most importantly experienced, leadership can have in tempering instability.
Ironically, this whole experience may be exactly what develops all of us into more mature managers, ready to take on bad news and expertly handle it whenever it’s thrown our way. Unequivocally I look at this as an experience I look at as an opportunity to grow. Here’s hoping!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Constants and Change (and Eid Mubarak!)
My life here is drastically different in almost every way possible from life in San Francisco. The polarity is stark. In most cases the observations are obvious: rich and poor, urban and rural, cold and hot, white and black. In other cases, the contra-positional nature of what you have and don’t in one place or the other doesn’t hit you for a while, and the significance of the juxtaposition is only realized after a bit time.
In SF, you have refrigeration. In Meheba you have three day old cheese that still tastes delicious because it’s cheese, and you spent four dollars on it in Solwezi (the same amount you spend on food for the whole week in the camp). In SF you have MUNI. Never thought I would tout the glory of public transport in that city, but here you have one hour bike rides, uphill, both ways, in the heat (can’t wait to tell my kids about it). In SF you have organic, free-trade, non-fat, extra hot, sugar-free vanilla skim lattes. In Meheba, you have powdered instant hazelnut flavored “Ricoffy,” and “SupaMilk”- it’s “Supa” because it somehow doesn’t need to be refrigerated (yeah, don’t know how that works). In SF you have carpeting. In Meheba you don’t take your shoes off, ever. And speaking of shoes, I miss my stilettos. Surprisingly, the things I miss less than expected are the things I initially thought would be the hardest to adjust to—lack of cell phone reception, television, internet, H&M, and hamburgers.
But one thing that never changes is the constant comfort that lies in the universally identical practice of being Muslim. The month of Ramadan is one I look forward to every year, and it has just ended- Eid Mubarak! Even here, it offers the gifts of mental clarity, a sense of purpose, peace, and this year, more than ever, a connection to the global suffering of the billions of people who simply just have less. This is a feeling that universally arises wherever I am when fasting. It is a thread that connects my existence here, or anywhere, to my own being, and at the same time, to the world at large.
Living in the very population that American Muslims are presumably trying to remember during this month is extraordinarily moving. Being hungry and thirsty while living in a hungry and thirsty community and praying together through that discomfort with miners from Arab countries, refugees from Buruni, Rwanda, Congo, Somalia, Sudan, and Angola, and a UNHCR Program Officer from Bangladesh highlighted for me that my work here exposes me to far more than the differences that exist between us, which are many, but to the more profuse commonalities that range from the mundane to the profound.
Parents walk their kids to school and hope education will improve their lives, young adults would do anything for love, sharing stories around dinner and a bonfire is always fun, whatever line you pick at the grocery store will be the slowest, everybody enjoys watching and playing soccer, more people will attend your meeting if you serve biscuits, babies smell like Vaseline and talcum powder, bureaucrats can’t really help you, girls like braiding each others hair, whoever you sit next to on the bus will be the smelliest, music makes people happy, everyone puts off doing laundry until Sunday, old people are wise, and we all brush our teeth in the morning and start everyday hoping to do the best we can.
In SF, you have refrigeration. In Meheba you have three day old cheese that still tastes delicious because it’s cheese, and you spent four dollars on it in Solwezi (the same amount you spend on food for the whole week in the camp). In SF you have MUNI. Never thought I would tout the glory of public transport in that city, but here you have one hour bike rides, uphill, both ways, in the heat (can’t wait to tell my kids about it). In SF you have organic, free-trade, non-fat, extra hot, sugar-free vanilla skim lattes. In Meheba, you have powdered instant hazelnut flavored “Ricoffy,” and “SupaMilk”- it’s “Supa” because it somehow doesn’t need to be refrigerated (yeah, don’t know how that works). In SF you have carpeting. In Meheba you don’t take your shoes off, ever. And speaking of shoes, I miss my stilettos. Surprisingly, the things I miss less than expected are the things I initially thought would be the hardest to adjust to—lack of cell phone reception, television, internet, H&M, and hamburgers.
But one thing that never changes is the constant comfort that lies in the universally identical practice of being Muslim. The month of Ramadan is one I look forward to every year, and it has just ended- Eid Mubarak! Even here, it offers the gifts of mental clarity, a sense of purpose, peace, and this year, more than ever, a connection to the global suffering of the billions of people who simply just have less. This is a feeling that universally arises wherever I am when fasting. It is a thread that connects my existence here, or anywhere, to my own being, and at the same time, to the world at large.
Living in the very population that American Muslims are presumably trying to remember during this month is extraordinarily moving. Being hungry and thirsty while living in a hungry and thirsty community and praying together through that discomfort with miners from Arab countries, refugees from Buruni, Rwanda, Congo, Somalia, Sudan, and Angola, and a UNHCR Program Officer from Bangladesh highlighted for me that my work here exposes me to far more than the differences that exist between us, which are many, but to the more profuse commonalities that range from the mundane to the profound.
Parents walk their kids to school and hope education will improve their lives, young adults would do anything for love, sharing stories around dinner and a bonfire is always fun, whatever line you pick at the grocery store will be the slowest, everybody enjoys watching and playing soccer, more people will attend your meeting if you serve biscuits, babies smell like Vaseline and talcum powder, bureaucrats can’t really help you, girls like braiding each others hair, whoever you sit next to on the bus will be the smelliest, music makes people happy, everyone puts off doing laundry until Sunday, old people are wise, and we all brush our teeth in the morning and start everyday hoping to do the best we can.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
TOP 5!
5 things I took most for granted before Meheba:
1) Having citizenship.
2) Knowing where my family is.
3) Access to information.
4) Friendship.
5) Duct tape.
5 crazy quotes from Meheba*:
1) “The whites have an invisible airplane that runs on human blood.”
2) “Mobutu Sese Seko (former dictator of Zaire, now Democratic Republic of Congo) had x-ray vision glasses and his wife used to kill people with her deadly back flips.”
3) “There is a black mamba snake in block B that is actually white, and it kills you by flying into your head and piercing you with a venomous claw on its tail.”
4) “There is a lady in block A who can reach block G in less than 20 minutes, the only explanation is that she flies.”
5) “FORGE may have access to that building when the suspected Wizards vacate its premises.”- An officer from the Zambian Ministry of Community Development and Social Services.
Runners Up (2 stories and a quote):
1) Seeing a young boy kill a rat, befriend and keep the dead animal as a pet in the morning, and eat it for dinner in the evening (witnessed this one myself).
2) Having dozens of unknown refugees ask to take a picture with you at church the first week you arrive, then finding pictures of yourself in the homes of refugees you don’t know 6 weeks later.
3) “I can’t come for dinner that late because there will be demons on my way back.”
*Really, you can’t make this stuff up, magic is very serious business in Meheba.
5 most unexpected forms of entertainment:
1) Watching insects knock themselves unconscious by repeatedly flying into the ceiling/walls.
2) Watching cats sleep. Or play, or cuddle, or hunt, or clean each other, or…
3) The game “SET.”
4) Killing ants.
5) Listening to refugees make fun of American accents.
5 of the most delicious foods in Meheba:
1) Pineapples (rarely available).
2) Fresh garlic (rarely available).
3) Avocados (rarely available).
4) Fried sweet potatoes.
5) Fanta.
5 least delicious foods in Meheba:
1) Caterpillars (haven’t actually tried them, but they don’t look appetizing).
2) Dried minnows (tiny little fish that smell very fishy).
3) Milk Maheyu (a really sweet, yet sour, grainy cornmeal drink).
4) Nshima (boiled cornmeal dough, eaten daily by Angolans, not a big fan of it myself).
5) Cassava (a bitter potato like starchy vegetable).
Commonly found foods in Meheba:
1) Beans (eaten daily)
2) Rice (eaten daily)
3) Cabbage (2-3 times per week)
4) Onion (daily, usually mixed with rice, or beans, or cabbage)
5) Tomato (daily, usually mixed with rice, or beans, or cabbage)
6) Rape (a dark leafy green, 2-3 times a week)
7) Chinese (like Bok Choi, 1-2 times a week)
8) Peanuts (usually for lunch)
9) Bananas (also for lunch)
10) Popcorn (the only snack food)
11) Potatoes (sweet, and regular, 1-2 times a week)
12) Bread (breakfast, thank God!)
12 things may sound like a lot, but that’s ALL there is. When rotating them everyday, there’s really not much variety, trust me.
5 favorite new slang terms:
1) “To Hammer.” An all purpose word that has many practical uses. To hit, to be hit, to be overcome, to overcome…
In a sentence that was actually used by one of our employees, “I saw a black mamba coming down the path! First Bartho screamed and hammered himself into the bush. Then I screamed too and the bike hammered me when I swerved into the bush. Then we got up and started throwing stones at the snake, just hammering it!”
2) “Peddle Down.” To bike fast.
In a sentence, “I am so exhausted, I was peddling down all day, from A to D and back home.”
3) “That Side.” A term used to refer to anywhere but wherever you are when the term is used, similar to “over there.”
In a sentence, “And how are things that side?” “I’ve just come from that side” “Where is everyone that side?”
4) Chimbo. A term in Luvale (local African language) that means cheap, backwards, a simpleton, or ignorant.
In a sentence, “My bike is so chimbo, it’s going to fall apart any day now.”
5) Eeway. Another Luvale term. A combination of “hey you” and “get lost.”
In a sentence, To the neighborhood kids, “Eeway! Stop clicking the gears on my bike.” To our cat, who is also named Eeway (he really lives up to his namesake), “Eeway, get out of there, that was going to be MY dinner.”
1) Having citizenship.
2) Knowing where my family is.
3) Access to information.
4) Friendship.
5) Duct tape.
5 crazy quotes from Meheba*:
1) “The whites have an invisible airplane that runs on human blood.”
2) “Mobutu Sese Seko (former dictator of Zaire, now Democratic Republic of Congo) had x-ray vision glasses and his wife used to kill people with her deadly back flips.”
3) “There is a black mamba snake in block B that is actually white, and it kills you by flying into your head and piercing you with a venomous claw on its tail.”
4) “There is a lady in block A who can reach block G in less than 20 minutes, the only explanation is that she flies.”
5) “FORGE may have access to that building when the suspected Wizards vacate its premises.”- An officer from the Zambian Ministry of Community Development and Social Services.
Runners Up (2 stories and a quote):
1) Seeing a young boy kill a rat, befriend and keep the dead animal as a pet in the morning, and eat it for dinner in the evening (witnessed this one myself).
2) Having dozens of unknown refugees ask to take a picture with you at church the first week you arrive, then finding pictures of yourself in the homes of refugees you don’t know 6 weeks later.
3) “I can’t come for dinner that late because there will be demons on my way back.”
*Really, you can’t make this stuff up, magic is very serious business in Meheba.
5 most unexpected forms of entertainment:
1) Watching insects knock themselves unconscious by repeatedly flying into the ceiling/walls.
2) Watching cats sleep. Or play, or cuddle, or hunt, or clean each other, or…
3) The game “SET.”
4) Killing ants.
5) Listening to refugees make fun of American accents.
5 of the most delicious foods in Meheba:
1) Pineapples (rarely available).
2) Fresh garlic (rarely available).
3) Avocados (rarely available).
4) Fried sweet potatoes.
5) Fanta.
5 least delicious foods in Meheba:
1) Caterpillars (haven’t actually tried them, but they don’t look appetizing).
2) Dried minnows (tiny little fish that smell very fishy).
3) Milk Maheyu (a really sweet, yet sour, grainy cornmeal drink).
4) Nshima (boiled cornmeal dough, eaten daily by Angolans, not a big fan of it myself).
5) Cassava (a bitter potato like starchy vegetable).
Commonly found foods in Meheba:
1) Beans (eaten daily)
2) Rice (eaten daily)
3) Cabbage (2-3 times per week)
4) Onion (daily, usually mixed with rice, or beans, or cabbage)
5) Tomato (daily, usually mixed with rice, or beans, or cabbage)
6) Rape (a dark leafy green, 2-3 times a week)
7) Chinese (like Bok Choi, 1-2 times a week)
8) Peanuts (usually for lunch)
9) Bananas (also for lunch)
10) Popcorn (the only snack food)
11) Potatoes (sweet, and regular, 1-2 times a week)
12) Bread (breakfast, thank God!)
12 things may sound like a lot, but that’s ALL there is. When rotating them everyday, there’s really not much variety, trust me.
5 favorite new slang terms:
1) “To Hammer.” An all purpose word that has many practical uses. To hit, to be hit, to be overcome, to overcome…
In a sentence that was actually used by one of our employees, “I saw a black mamba coming down the path! First Bartho screamed and hammered himself into the bush. Then I screamed too and the bike hammered me when I swerved into the bush. Then we got up and started throwing stones at the snake, just hammering it!”
2) “Peddle Down.” To bike fast.
In a sentence, “I am so exhausted, I was peddling down all day, from A to D and back home.”
3) “That Side.” A term used to refer to anywhere but wherever you are when the term is used, similar to “over there.”
In a sentence, “And how are things that side?” “I’ve just come from that side” “Where is everyone that side?”
4) Chimbo. A term in Luvale (local African language) that means cheap, backwards, a simpleton, or ignorant.
In a sentence, “My bike is so chimbo, it’s going to fall apart any day now.”
5) Eeway. Another Luvale term. A combination of “hey you” and “get lost.”
In a sentence, To the neighborhood kids, “Eeway! Stop clicking the gears on my bike.” To our cat, who is also named Eeway (he really lives up to his namesake), “Eeway, get out of there, that was going to be MY dinner.”
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Hold On (/On Hold)
The tribulations of being a manager in the setting of an African refugee camp are many, but so far, one of the most constant is the level of interruption (more or less daily) we face from either life taking its course or other unavoidable occurrences.
Over the past eight days, we have celebrated a staff member’s wedding, visited another’s new baby, and attended the funeral of another staff member’s brother. The circle of life here is so visible and constant and holy. Yesterday one of our staff members helped dress the wounds of a burn victim on a volunteer basis at the clinic, and in the morning, the girl died. As a result, he has asked for the day off to counsel the family instead of manage our health services center. Last week there was a fuel crisis in the province and transportation into and out of the camp became impossible, and anything running on a generator (shops, clinics, offices) needs fuel. Without preventative healthcare, our refugee staff are ill and constantly taking days off. Roads here are pretty rough so bicycles (a necessity in a cap our size- 500 square miles) are constantly broken and limit our staff’s ability to come to work.
Living without any escapist pastimes here, it is actually refreshing to experience the robust joy, sorrow, excitement, frustration, and pain of these real life stories. But these occasions constantly put work on hold, and another day is escaping us now.
Today we are in Solwezi and much of the city is shut down in mourning of Zambia’s president’s (Mwanamwasa) death yesterday, and this will continue for 10 more days. I knew adapting to the pace of life here was going to be challenging, but being unable to schedule more than two tasks a day, can be frustrating.
Apologies for this short draft blog, but this week, our first really on our own, hasn’t left too much time for contemplation and eloquence. Next time I promise something fun and thoughtful and well written!
Over the past eight days, we have celebrated a staff member’s wedding, visited another’s new baby, and attended the funeral of another staff member’s brother. The circle of life here is so visible and constant and holy. Yesterday one of our staff members helped dress the wounds of a burn victim on a volunteer basis at the clinic, and in the morning, the girl died. As a result, he has asked for the day off to counsel the family instead of manage our health services center. Last week there was a fuel crisis in the province and transportation into and out of the camp became impossible, and anything running on a generator (shops, clinics, offices) needs fuel. Without preventative healthcare, our refugee staff are ill and constantly taking days off. Roads here are pretty rough so bicycles (a necessity in a cap our size- 500 square miles) are constantly broken and limit our staff’s ability to come to work.
Living without any escapist pastimes here, it is actually refreshing to experience the robust joy, sorrow, excitement, frustration, and pain of these real life stories. But these occasions constantly put work on hold, and another day is escaping us now.
Today we are in Solwezi and much of the city is shut down in mourning of Zambia’s president’s (Mwanamwasa) death yesterday, and this will continue for 10 more days. I knew adapting to the pace of life here was going to be challenging, but being unable to schedule more than two tasks a day, can be frustrating.
Apologies for this short draft blog, but this week, our first really on our own, hasn’t left too much time for contemplation and eloquence. Next time I promise something fun and thoughtful and well written!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Hello There- A Blog in Four (long) Parts
I.
SO I am alive! I have been here for just over two weeks now, and I can’t decide if time has gone slowly or quickly. Either way, writing about the past 17 days is a challenge. So many thoughts to process, senses to sort, and ideas to formulate. I thought I was going to start with something sappy about the beauty and hope of the African sunrise, but thought better of it mid-sentiment…
The deep orange sun here is striking mostly in its elegance and simplicity. The residents of Meheba refugee settlement, while equally fluorescent, are profoundly complex, in a way no metaphor can capture. Their lives are mixed with the weighty histories of their countries (Somalia, Sudan, Rwanda, Congo, Uganda, Angola): decolonialization, resource wars, despotic leaders, civil unrest, failed states, and genocides.
The microcosm of Africa in Meheba lends itself to observing the legacies from this narrative, which are extremely fascinating but also disturbing. Stereotypical ethnic antagonisms (Hutu v Tutsi, Katangese v Kasai, Western v African) actively continue to play out on the ground, obviously diminishing the degree of “refuge” many are able to seek. In some ways, that brings me full circle to believe that despite the abundant diversity between the people of the African states represented in Meheba, most of the refugees here now share one predominant struggle: SURVIVAL, which maybe is like the singularity of the African sun after all.
II.
So much for organizing my thoughts. Since Africa has me talking in circles, I’ll scale the conversation down to Zambia and my immediate experience so far. I left SFO on July 10, flew to Heathrow, then to Lusaka (the capital of Zambia), where I arrived on the 12th. I spent fewer than 24 hours in the city, but my overall impression was that it is less urban, less developed, and smaller than I thought. 80% of the population (which is only about 3 million) lives in “compounds,” which are basically shantytowns on the outskirts of “town,” which consists of about 4 high rises and a few strip malls.
On the 13th we took a nine hour bus from Lusaka to Solwezi, the town nearest Meheba. The buses are Japanese, and as a result the seats are about ¾ the size of a seat on an American bus, so that was amusing. It was crowded, but enjoyable.
Solwezi has recently seen a boom in development because there are international copper mining operations here. It is the nearest town that has full cell phone reception, electricity, internet, more than 5 grocery ingredients, a gas station ($13/gallon!), etc. It is about a 90 minute drive from Meheba, though it is probably only about 40 miles away. The roads in the camp are unpaved and abundant with huge pot holes, which means driving 20 mph until you get reach the borders of the settlement. We will probably be coming here twice a month for project supply trips, so hopefully I can post blogs with the same frequency J
III.
Meheba itself is huge, over 500 square miles. It is actually designated by UNHCR as a settlement as opposed to a camp. This means that each refugee head of household is given two acres of land to farm and is expected to survive without food rations after the first two years of residence in the settlement. The average Angolan has lived here for 17 years, some for over 30. Thousands of refugees were born here. Rwandans have been here since 1994, Somalis since 1992, and Congolese from the 1990’s as well. 60,000 refugees used to live here, which has dwindled to 17,000. As a result, in the past 10 years Meheba has seen an exodus of NGOs. MSF, Red Cross, LWF, AAR, and others have all left for newer crisis zones.
The main implementing partner of UNHCR in Meheba now is the Zambian government, which runs the schools, clinics, police, and all social and community development services. The relationship between us, UNHCR and the Zambian ministry is complicated, but basically I’ll save some nice words for them in emails to you all if you’re interested.
Since FORGE is the only remaining NGO in the settlement, and as a staff, we are the only non-refugees who have a physical presence in the camp itself, we have intimate knowledge of the discontents in the camp. Our projects here survey a wide variety of needs. In sum, we operate (and I co-manage):
- 3 Preschools
- 7 Libraries
- 1 Women’s Center (outreach on subjects of nutrition, reproductive health, childcare, sexual violence, and workshops on income generating skills like knitting and tailoring)
- 2 Forge Health Services (general health outreach, basic medical assessments and referral services to the clinics)
- 1 Micro-finance/agro-lending institute
- 1 Peace Education and Computer Training Center
- 1 Refugee Advocacy Initiative (a referral service to inform and direct refugees to appropriate resources/authorities depending on their problem, this year we have also been referring people for resettlement with over 90% of our referees being granted resettlement!)
- 1 Adult Education Center (English, Piano, and Guitar classes)
- 1 Reliable Seed and Market Program (creating this project currently)
- 1 Forge Education Fund (scholarship program supporting high school and university students)
These projects are fully staffed and coordinated by around 60 refugees, and we rely heavily on our strongest refugee coordinators to propel the projects. So, as you can see, your hugely generous contributions, for which I can’t THANK YOU all enough, are making a very real and significant impact here on the ground!
In addition to overseeing the operation, implementation, progress, and evaluation of these projects, we also work with UNHCR on higher level issues (ex: we just submitted project proposals for a Sexual and Gender Based Violence (SGBV) drop in center that may be funded by the Danish Embassy), attend inter-agency and task force meetings and act as liaisons between refugees and UNHCR and the Zambian ministry.
Overall the work so far has been hard- professionally, physically, emotionally, and psychologically. But at the same time rewarding in a way that I expect will make this experience wholly phenomenal.
IV.
As cheesy as it sounds, the setting outside really is quintessential African bush. Some refugees claim that elephants used to live here. Tall grass, giant anthills, flat topped trees, mud brick one room houses with thatched roofs, red dust on everything, goats, bicycles, and a warm, calm breeze sum it up for now. More than any other word, mother nature might best capture the scene.
Inside though, life is comfortable. The daily challenges here will not be related to lighting coals and pumping water to bucket shower, eating beans for every meal every day, conserving solar power, or learning to transport everything (mattresses!) on a bicycle. Even my intense arachnophobia has started to subside (these huge armored looking spiders pretty much live on every wall). But if you want to help make life a little more familiar, please send me letters and love and packages and text messages!
My phone number (including international/zambia code): 011 260 976153560
You can buy reasonable calling cards to Zambia online at nobelcom.com
My mailing address: Meheba Friendly Library
Attn: Sabah Khan
P.O. Box 110299
Solwezi
ZAMBIA
U.S.P.S. has a worldwide flat rate envelope which is $12 that you can apparently pack a lot of stuff into, and a flat rate box for $35 that holds up to 20lbs. Packages take around 3 weeks to get here. Things like protein (packets of tuna, chicken, beef jerky, nuts, etc.), granola, dried fruit, chocolate, anything that can be cooked by adding just hot water, are hard to find here. Also, movies, music, magazines, and books are very welcome.
So, this posting ended up being much, much, longer than I thought it was going to be, but I hope it provides some insight into this adventure! Needless to say, I miss you all dearly and can’t wait to hear about what all is going on in your lives too, until then, hugs and goodbye for now! :)
SO I am alive! I have been here for just over two weeks now, and I can’t decide if time has gone slowly or quickly. Either way, writing about the past 17 days is a challenge. So many thoughts to process, senses to sort, and ideas to formulate. I thought I was going to start with something sappy about the beauty and hope of the African sunrise, but thought better of it mid-sentiment…
The deep orange sun here is striking mostly in its elegance and simplicity. The residents of Meheba refugee settlement, while equally fluorescent, are profoundly complex, in a way no metaphor can capture. Their lives are mixed with the weighty histories of their countries (Somalia, Sudan, Rwanda, Congo, Uganda, Angola): decolonialization, resource wars, despotic leaders, civil unrest, failed states, and genocides.
The microcosm of Africa in Meheba lends itself to observing the legacies from this narrative, which are extremely fascinating but also disturbing. Stereotypical ethnic antagonisms (Hutu v Tutsi, Katangese v Kasai, Western v African) actively continue to play out on the ground, obviously diminishing the degree of “refuge” many are able to seek. In some ways, that brings me full circle to believe that despite the abundant diversity between the people of the African states represented in Meheba, most of the refugees here now share one predominant struggle: SURVIVAL, which maybe is like the singularity of the African sun after all.
II.
So much for organizing my thoughts. Since Africa has me talking in circles, I’ll scale the conversation down to Zambia and my immediate experience so far. I left SFO on July 10, flew to Heathrow, then to Lusaka (the capital of Zambia), where I arrived on the 12th. I spent fewer than 24 hours in the city, but my overall impression was that it is less urban, less developed, and smaller than I thought. 80% of the population (which is only about 3 million) lives in “compounds,” which are basically shantytowns on the outskirts of “town,” which consists of about 4 high rises and a few strip malls.
On the 13th we took a nine hour bus from Lusaka to Solwezi, the town nearest Meheba. The buses are Japanese, and as a result the seats are about ¾ the size of a seat on an American bus, so that was amusing. It was crowded, but enjoyable.
Solwezi has recently seen a boom in development because there are international copper mining operations here. It is the nearest town that has full cell phone reception, electricity, internet, more than 5 grocery ingredients, a gas station ($13/gallon!), etc. It is about a 90 minute drive from Meheba, though it is probably only about 40 miles away. The roads in the camp are unpaved and abundant with huge pot holes, which means driving 20 mph until you get reach the borders of the settlement. We will probably be coming here twice a month for project supply trips, so hopefully I can post blogs with the same frequency J
III.
Meheba itself is huge, over 500 square miles. It is actually designated by UNHCR as a settlement as opposed to a camp. This means that each refugee head of household is given two acres of land to farm and is expected to survive without food rations after the first two years of residence in the settlement. The average Angolan has lived here for 17 years, some for over 30. Thousands of refugees were born here. Rwandans have been here since 1994, Somalis since 1992, and Congolese from the 1990’s as well. 60,000 refugees used to live here, which has dwindled to 17,000. As a result, in the past 10 years Meheba has seen an exodus of NGOs. MSF, Red Cross, LWF, AAR, and others have all left for newer crisis zones.
The main implementing partner of UNHCR in Meheba now is the Zambian government, which runs the schools, clinics, police, and all social and community development services. The relationship between us, UNHCR and the Zambian ministry is complicated, but basically I’ll save some nice words for them in emails to you all if you’re interested.
Since FORGE is the only remaining NGO in the settlement, and as a staff, we are the only non-refugees who have a physical presence in the camp itself, we have intimate knowledge of the discontents in the camp. Our projects here survey a wide variety of needs. In sum, we operate (and I co-manage):
- 3 Preschools
- 7 Libraries
- 1 Women’s Center (outreach on subjects of nutrition, reproductive health, childcare, sexual violence, and workshops on income generating skills like knitting and tailoring)
- 2 Forge Health Services (general health outreach, basic medical assessments and referral services to the clinics)
- 1 Micro-finance/agro-lending institute
- 1 Peace Education and Computer Training Center
- 1 Refugee Advocacy Initiative (a referral service to inform and direct refugees to appropriate resources/authorities depending on their problem, this year we have also been referring people for resettlement with over 90% of our referees being granted resettlement!)
- 1 Adult Education Center (English, Piano, and Guitar classes)
- 1 Reliable Seed and Market Program (creating this project currently)
- 1 Forge Education Fund (scholarship program supporting high school and university students)
These projects are fully staffed and coordinated by around 60 refugees, and we rely heavily on our strongest refugee coordinators to propel the projects. So, as you can see, your hugely generous contributions, for which I can’t THANK YOU all enough, are making a very real and significant impact here on the ground!
In addition to overseeing the operation, implementation, progress, and evaluation of these projects, we also work with UNHCR on higher level issues (ex: we just submitted project proposals for a Sexual and Gender Based Violence (SGBV) drop in center that may be funded by the Danish Embassy), attend inter-agency and task force meetings and act as liaisons between refugees and UNHCR and the Zambian ministry.
Overall the work so far has been hard- professionally, physically, emotionally, and psychologically. But at the same time rewarding in a way that I expect will make this experience wholly phenomenal.
IV.
As cheesy as it sounds, the setting outside really is quintessential African bush. Some refugees claim that elephants used to live here. Tall grass, giant anthills, flat topped trees, mud brick one room houses with thatched roofs, red dust on everything, goats, bicycles, and a warm, calm breeze sum it up for now. More than any other word, mother nature might best capture the scene.
Inside though, life is comfortable. The daily challenges here will not be related to lighting coals and pumping water to bucket shower, eating beans for every meal every day, conserving solar power, or learning to transport everything (mattresses!) on a bicycle. Even my intense arachnophobia has started to subside (these huge armored looking spiders pretty much live on every wall). But if you want to help make life a little more familiar, please send me letters and love and packages and text messages!
My phone number (including international/zambia code): 011 260 976153560
You can buy reasonable calling cards to Zambia online at nobelcom.com
My mailing address: Meheba Friendly Library
Attn: Sabah Khan
P.O. Box 110299
Solwezi
ZAMBIA
U.S.P.S. has a worldwide flat rate envelope which is $12 that you can apparently pack a lot of stuff into, and a flat rate box for $35 that holds up to 20lbs. Packages take around 3 weeks to get here. Things like protein (packets of tuna, chicken, beef jerky, nuts, etc.), granola, dried fruit, chocolate, anything that can be cooked by adding just hot water, are hard to find here. Also, movies, music, magazines, and books are very welcome.
So, this posting ended up being much, much, longer than I thought it was going to be, but I hope it provides some insight into this adventure! Needless to say, I miss you all dearly and can’t wait to hear about what all is going on in your lives too, until then, hugs and goodbye for now! :)
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Into the Deep End
Today we are in Solwezi to send off the former Project Managers under whom we’ve been training for the past three weeks. They’ve been an invaluable resource to us, and have walked us to the precipice of a journey that will tomorrow become ours.
From where we stand now, the depth of the plunge we are about to take is uncertain. The dimensions of the rabbit hole we will face tomorrow are two fold:
1) Darkness
Some levels of gloom are visible to us from the surface. Hunger is an obvious shadow cast over Meheba. We have staff members who do not eat before 5pm, men who are 5’10 and weigh less than 125 pounds, in fact most men never grow to their full height because they were malnourished as children, and one has casually mentioned feeling drunk because he must spend his salary on medicine and so can not afford to also buy the food that it should be eaten with to avoid lightheadedness (though obviously this is preferable to potential blindness, for which he is being treated).
A snapshot of just one day out of 365: On Monday, one of our Women’s Center staff members had a miscarriage and begged us to use our vehicle to take her to the clinic. Waiting for the only ambulance in the camp can take hours. Two hours later, we found out our house lady’s brother and father were killed in Angola.
The dimness of these situations I suspect will only darken as time passes and we plummet into the underbelly of humanitarian work. The stories of those refugees who we have interviewed for resettlement are necessarily fraught with cases of repeated rape, arson, torture, unjust imprisonment, kidnapping, and murder. In essence, blackness of the deepest intensity imaginable.
2) Deepness
The darkness though is by no means opaque. As cavernous as our work may be in breadth, it bears a fractal quality of multidimensionality in depth: the more we unravel one issue, the more new, and equally thorny, problems appear in its stead. Dilemmas here are deeply composite, and rebellious to our attempts to disentangle them. The complexity underlying seemingly solvable predicaments is deeper than I could have ever predicted.
Understanding both of these qualities of my work together—the depth of darkness— is not easy. The only solution I can anticipate is to harness the light that still remains. And it is abundant, even if hidden. The talents of our refugee staff are innumerable and inspiring. Our Peace Education instructors hold master’s degrees in conflict resolution, if their seminars were held in the U.S. they could be celebrities of the Angelina Jolie (humanitarian-cum-Hollywood) variety (the fact that much of our staff have gorgeous, statuesque, dignified features, i.e. the highest cheekbones you’ve ever seen, adds to the Hollywood potential). Our new preschool has over 180 students, and the Ministry run Basic School in the area subsequently had their largest class of 1st graders ever (increased enrollment in that grade by almost 50%) last year, setting the students on a lifelong path of education to freedom. Our health services project is run by a man who was a nurse in the Congo and who spent seven years working for Doctors Without Borders (MSF) before they left Meheba, and the project last month (only its second in operation) reached 404 people under his leadership.
The thought of amplifying and multiplying these successes is the parachute that controls the free fall that starts tomorrow; it is my motivation, and it transforms my fear and thrill into deliberation and action. It is scary, it is exciting, but altogether we are ready to make the jump, and tomorrow we will! Wish me luck :)
From where we stand now, the depth of the plunge we are about to take is uncertain. The dimensions of the rabbit hole we will face tomorrow are two fold:
1) Darkness
Some levels of gloom are visible to us from the surface. Hunger is an obvious shadow cast over Meheba. We have staff members who do not eat before 5pm, men who are 5’10 and weigh less than 125 pounds, in fact most men never grow to their full height because they were malnourished as children, and one has casually mentioned feeling drunk because he must spend his salary on medicine and so can not afford to also buy the food that it should be eaten with to avoid lightheadedness (though obviously this is preferable to potential blindness, for which he is being treated).
A snapshot of just one day out of 365: On Monday, one of our Women’s Center staff members had a miscarriage and begged us to use our vehicle to take her to the clinic. Waiting for the only ambulance in the camp can take hours. Two hours later, we found out our house lady’s brother and father were killed in Angola.
The dimness of these situations I suspect will only darken as time passes and we plummet into the underbelly of humanitarian work. The stories of those refugees who we have interviewed for resettlement are necessarily fraught with cases of repeated rape, arson, torture, unjust imprisonment, kidnapping, and murder. In essence, blackness of the deepest intensity imaginable.
2) Deepness
The darkness though is by no means opaque. As cavernous as our work may be in breadth, it bears a fractal quality of multidimensionality in depth: the more we unravel one issue, the more new, and equally thorny, problems appear in its stead. Dilemmas here are deeply composite, and rebellious to our attempts to disentangle them. The complexity underlying seemingly solvable predicaments is deeper than I could have ever predicted.
Understanding both of these qualities of my work together—the depth of darkness— is not easy. The only solution I can anticipate is to harness the light that still remains. And it is abundant, even if hidden. The talents of our refugee staff are innumerable and inspiring. Our Peace Education instructors hold master’s degrees in conflict resolution, if their seminars were held in the U.S. they could be celebrities of the Angelina Jolie (humanitarian-cum-Hollywood) variety (the fact that much of our staff have gorgeous, statuesque, dignified features, i.e. the highest cheekbones you’ve ever seen, adds to the Hollywood potential). Our new preschool has over 180 students, and the Ministry run Basic School in the area subsequently had their largest class of 1st graders ever (increased enrollment in that grade by almost 50%) last year, setting the students on a lifelong path of education to freedom. Our health services project is run by a man who was a nurse in the Congo and who spent seven years working for Doctors Without Borders (MSF) before they left Meheba, and the project last month (only its second in operation) reached 404 people under his leadership.
The thought of amplifying and multiplying these successes is the parachute that controls the free fall that starts tomorrow; it is my motivation, and it transforms my fear and thrill into deliberation and action. It is scary, it is exciting, but altogether we are ready to make the jump, and tomorrow we will! Wish me luck :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)