Not much was seen and heard today, other than the inside of an office and a bunch of documents from the last three years that it's my job to look through to determine if everything is going well, or if there are some adjustments required in procedures. There's usually a couple dozen recommended changes, but I'm pretty sure that won't be the case this time - the fellow is very conscientious and has been around for almost ten years.
That's one thing that this work has given me appreciation for - the consistency that experience brings. First time I review someone's work, there are lots of recommendations - the next time, very few - except in rare circumstances, and it usually signals either a lot of changes in working environment, or that the person is struggling with this part of their work.
Anyway, more of the same tomorrow, and the Wednesday start the two day journey to Congo.
David
P.S. leave a comment - A lot of people are viewing the pages (68 on Sunday) and I'm interested in what you find interesting - I'm guessing today's blog isn't going to get a lot of mentions.
DSP
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The Final Leg - Lagos to Jos:
You’d think that a short hop within a country couldn’t be that difficult. Well you’d be just as wrong as I was. I DID get to Jos, On the flight we’d booked, but it wasn’t a slam-dunk.
The prelude to the problems was that with all the delays leading up to this leg of the journey, previous flights had been booked and canceled – so when I arrived in Lagos, there was not a booked flight – just a credit from the previously booked and canceled flight.
So, first order of business, get a flight booked (my friend working from Jos), and some kind of documentation to me (in Lagos) that I could show at the check-in desk.
My guesthouse had wireless internet, and a printed e-ticket or notice of change would be good enough. Easy, right? Nope.
As I’ve noted, I couldn’t get into the email address we’d been using in our correspondence, so I had to give a new email address on the phone – a sketchy business at the best of times, and worse over a poor cellphone connection. Secondly, after an hour of trying with different passwords and locations, I determined that the wireless internet in the guesthouse was not working, And that the young woman at the desk knew this and was just going through the motions of helping me until I stopped trying….sigh….
By this time it was too late to get our driver/handler to get something, so I’d have to rely on getting it off the internet café at the airport, and printing it there – assuming, of course that everything worked, mere hours before I needed the document.
Watched ‘football’ on the telly (saw Man United clobber some poor team 7-1), started watching ‘Waterworld’ until somebody decided to change the direction that the Satellite TV antennae faced - and now I don’t know if Kevin Costner ever found dry land.
Slept fitfully (not because of Kevin), got up, showered (used the pillowcase for a towel, because the guesthouse didn't provide them, but didn’t know that), re-packed my bag, did the final check of the room to ensure I had everything, and went downstairs just as my ride arrived to take me to the airport. Very auspicious, I thought. Any day that starts out this in sync was has got to go well.
Well, it did, but not without hiccups. To make a long story short:
- the airport to Jos was not the same one as the airport from Benin - and the Jos airport didn't have internet cafes. Crap. Fortunately they were very close to each other, so a detour to the airport with internet cafes wasn’t a deal-breaker;
- At the internet café, now my work email wouldn’t open either. Screwed. Well, maybe my personal email works today – and, yes, it did!! Got the document and printed it ((total cost $10) In spite of the expense, I’m ranking this a minor miracle, if only because I did put my head in my hands at one point, and I think that the thoughts going through my mind would qualify as ‘the prayer of a desperate man’;
- Went into the airport and got my boarding pass, and was told, with that same half-hearted wave I’d seen in Benin, that the gate for Jos was ‘on the other side’. Well, she must have meant the other end of the airport, so my handler and I proceeded there. We got interrupted by a young man who knew my handler, who told us, no ‘the other side’ meant what was formerly the First Class Lounge – outside, on the other side of the terminal complex. Oh, okay. That was a change, having a problem solved before I knew there was one – and glad for that I was.
- In this new lounge there were line-ups too, but I had my boarding pass, so was going to ignore them until the new fellow said – ‘no, that’s not your boarding pass’, and got into the line-up to get it for me. The printer was down in his line-up so he had to change line-ups. But eventually I had the boarding pass. I texted my friend to say that things looked good – hoping that wasn’t an invitation to bad luck;
- Said goodbye to my handler and his friend, and walked into the waiting room – with restaurants where I was assured that I could get breakfast – an assurance all the more meaningful given that the last time I’d eaten or drank was late afternoon the day before;
- I put my two bags on the scanner belt, and walked through the metal detecting scanner – and it virtually screamed! I’d left my old style metal-cased phone in my pocket. But NO-one took any notice of me – not so much as a raised eyebrow! Okay, don’t make a fuss, just grab your stuff and go.
- But, no. For the first time on the whole trip, someone took an interest in the gifts that a friend had sent along with me for my ‘friend’ in Nigeria. And the list she’d attached had long ago fallen off. I had it somewhere and started looking for it, mumbling something about an iPod – which clearly wasn’t all that there was in the package. As I incompetently fumbled for the list, she said it was okay, and let me go. Well, the 'I'm just an bumbling tourist' strategy does work in Nigeria – just not consistently.
- I had a ‘breakfast’ comprised of rice with four over-cooked beef cubes, Nescafe with condensed cream, and water. The water did hit the spot;
- The flight was delayed – with NO ANNOUNCEMENT! Which is Not helpful for a ‘6’ on the Enneagram – anxiety is our lifelong companion. Fortunately I found others who were also on the flight to Jos, so I knew I hadn’t missed my flight. Eventually we get that boarding call – more than a ½ hour after the 10:55 scheduled departure. I texted my friend to say I’d be an hour late.
- I got into one of the lines on the tarmac where we were to be patted down one more time, and was told by a gentleman in the line beside me that I should join his line. A perfectly reasonable suggestion, since the line I was in was for women only. One of the drawbacks of being near the front of a line is that you don’t always have all the information you need.
- As I shifted lines, I saw that the security people were wearing rubber gloves – just how intimate was this pat-down going to be? I’d just two days earlier read Dave Barry’s account of his overly intimate experience with a security officer in an American airport after he'd refused the body sonar. But, it was okay – nothing requiring me retreating into my internal ‘safe place’;
- The flight was uneventful. My friend was waiting at the airport. We drove to where I would be staying. They fed and watered me. I offered the gift of some maple candy to the family, which was very well received. And now I’ve finished writing about my adventures. Life's good - I'm where I'm supposed to be for the next few days.
All's Well that Ends Well.
The prelude to the problems was that with all the delays leading up to this leg of the journey, previous flights had been booked and canceled – so when I arrived in Lagos, there was not a booked flight – just a credit from the previously booked and canceled flight.
So, first order of business, get a flight booked (my friend working from Jos), and some kind of documentation to me (in Lagos) that I could show at the check-in desk.
My guesthouse had wireless internet, and a printed e-ticket or notice of change would be good enough. Easy, right? Nope.
As I’ve noted, I couldn’t get into the email address we’d been using in our correspondence, so I had to give a new email address on the phone – a sketchy business at the best of times, and worse over a poor cellphone connection. Secondly, after an hour of trying with different passwords and locations, I determined that the wireless internet in the guesthouse was not working, And that the young woman at the desk knew this and was just going through the motions of helping me until I stopped trying….sigh….
By this time it was too late to get our driver/handler to get something, so I’d have to rely on getting it off the internet café at the airport, and printing it there – assuming, of course that everything worked, mere hours before I needed the document.
Watched ‘football’ on the telly (saw Man United clobber some poor team 7-1), started watching ‘Waterworld’ until somebody decided to change the direction that the Satellite TV antennae faced - and now I don’t know if Kevin Costner ever found dry land.
Slept fitfully (not because of Kevin), got up, showered (used the pillowcase for a towel, because the guesthouse didn't provide them, but didn’t know that), re-packed my bag, did the final check of the room to ensure I had everything, and went downstairs just as my ride arrived to take me to the airport. Very auspicious, I thought. Any day that starts out this in sync was has got to go well.
Well, it did, but not without hiccups. To make a long story short:
- the airport to Jos was not the same one as the airport from Benin - and the Jos airport didn't have internet cafes. Crap. Fortunately they were very close to each other, so a detour to the airport with internet cafes wasn’t a deal-breaker;
- At the internet café, now my work email wouldn’t open either. Screwed. Well, maybe my personal email works today – and, yes, it did!! Got the document and printed it ((total cost $10) In spite of the expense, I’m ranking this a minor miracle, if only because I did put my head in my hands at one point, and I think that the thoughts going through my mind would qualify as ‘the prayer of a desperate man’;
- Went into the airport and got my boarding pass, and was told, with that same half-hearted wave I’d seen in Benin, that the gate for Jos was ‘on the other side’. Well, she must have meant the other end of the airport, so my handler and I proceeded there. We got interrupted by a young man who knew my handler, who told us, no ‘the other side’ meant what was formerly the First Class Lounge – outside, on the other side of the terminal complex. Oh, okay. That was a change, having a problem solved before I knew there was one – and glad for that I was.
- In this new lounge there were line-ups too, but I had my boarding pass, so was going to ignore them until the new fellow said – ‘no, that’s not your boarding pass’, and got into the line-up to get it for me. The printer was down in his line-up so he had to change line-ups. But eventually I had the boarding pass. I texted my friend to say that things looked good – hoping that wasn’t an invitation to bad luck;
- Said goodbye to my handler and his friend, and walked into the waiting room – with restaurants where I was assured that I could get breakfast – an assurance all the more meaningful given that the last time I’d eaten or drank was late afternoon the day before;
- I put my two bags on the scanner belt, and walked through the metal detecting scanner – and it virtually screamed! I’d left my old style metal-cased phone in my pocket. But NO-one took any notice of me – not so much as a raised eyebrow! Okay, don’t make a fuss, just grab your stuff and go.
- But, no. For the first time on the whole trip, someone took an interest in the gifts that a friend had sent along with me for my ‘friend’ in Nigeria. And the list she’d attached had long ago fallen off. I had it somewhere and started looking for it, mumbling something about an iPod – which clearly wasn’t all that there was in the package. As I incompetently fumbled for the list, she said it was okay, and let me go. Well, the 'I'm just an bumbling tourist' strategy does work in Nigeria – just not consistently.
- I had a ‘breakfast’ comprised of rice with four over-cooked beef cubes, Nescafe with condensed cream, and water. The water did hit the spot;
- The flight was delayed – with NO ANNOUNCEMENT! Which is Not helpful for a ‘6’ on the Enneagram – anxiety is our lifelong companion. Fortunately I found others who were also on the flight to Jos, so I knew I hadn’t missed my flight. Eventually we get that boarding call – more than a ½ hour after the 10:55 scheduled departure. I texted my friend to say I’d be an hour late.
- I got into one of the lines on the tarmac where we were to be patted down one more time, and was told by a gentleman in the line beside me that I should join his line. A perfectly reasonable suggestion, since the line I was in was for women only. One of the drawbacks of being near the front of a line is that you don’t always have all the information you need.
- As I shifted lines, I saw that the security people were wearing rubber gloves – just how intimate was this pat-down going to be? I’d just two days earlier read Dave Barry’s account of his overly intimate experience with a security officer in an American airport after he'd refused the body sonar. But, it was okay – nothing requiring me retreating into my internal ‘safe place’;
- The flight was uneventful. My friend was waiting at the airport. We drove to where I would be staying. They fed and watered me. I offered the gift of some maple candy to the family, which was very well received. And now I’ve finished writing about my adventures. Life's good - I'm where I'm supposed to be for the next few days.
All's Well that Ends Well.
Getting past the immigration authorities:
One thing I forgot to mention in the drama from Burkina to Lagos is that, twice – once when getting the Nigerian visa - and once at the immigration desk at the Lagos airport, I was quizzed about the ‘friend’ I was coming to visit in Jos.
You see, if you tell the Nigerian visa people that you are on a contract with a development organization to review the financial procedures in their office (or almost any other kind of work, even if on a voluntary basis), they will inform you that there are Nigerians totally capable of doing this work, and refuse your visa.
In one sense, they’re right. There are 160 million Nigerians, many of them professionally trained and under-employed who could do something like what I’m doing. Unfortunately, because the nature of this work is so tied into the culture and specific working style of this particular development organization, not even a North American from outside of this organization could do the same work until properly oriented. But how do you explain that to the Nigerian government without coming off as superior?
So, if I wanted to get into Nigeria I needed to say I was visiting a friend – and since I’d already worked with the Nigerian accountant for this organization, he sent a letter ‘personally inviting me to visit him in Nigeria’, and my job was to ‘tell that story and stick with it’.
Twice I was challenged. The visa officer asked questions, and even phoned my friend – from Benin – to see if he would answer questions in the same way that I had. Fortunately the conversation with the visa officer hadn’t got so detailed that we got tripped up there. So, that test was passed.
Then at the Nigerian immigration desk, the woman looking at my passport started asking questions. You see, a lot of people enter Nigeria ‘to visit friends’ but are actually coming in to fulfill a contract for work or volunteering – so the authorities ask questions, but half-heartedly.
This woman went so far as to ask ‘is he really your friend?’, and since I’d already had my butt kicked by the visa officer in Benin, I was better prepared mentally. I took the tactic of answering a question with a question and asked ‘why do you ask?’. It was effective, in part because it would be impolite on her part to suggest I was lying, and since she wasn’t hardened enough in her work and had no real evidence to back up that suggestion, she let it go – and let me go.
If she’d searched my luggage, she would have seen the paperwork from Burkina, and pretty much had me nailed, but it isn’t her job to search the luggage – and the people whose job it is to search the luggage are instructed to look for dangerous things, not work documents.
As Leonard Cohen says, ‘there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.’
You see, if you tell the Nigerian visa people that you are on a contract with a development organization to review the financial procedures in their office (or almost any other kind of work, even if on a voluntary basis), they will inform you that there are Nigerians totally capable of doing this work, and refuse your visa.
In one sense, they’re right. There are 160 million Nigerians, many of them professionally trained and under-employed who could do something like what I’m doing. Unfortunately, because the nature of this work is so tied into the culture and specific working style of this particular development organization, not even a North American from outside of this organization could do the same work until properly oriented. But how do you explain that to the Nigerian government without coming off as superior?
So, if I wanted to get into Nigeria I needed to say I was visiting a friend – and since I’d already worked with the Nigerian accountant for this organization, he sent a letter ‘personally inviting me to visit him in Nigeria’, and my job was to ‘tell that story and stick with it’.
Twice I was challenged. The visa officer asked questions, and even phoned my friend – from Benin – to see if he would answer questions in the same way that I had. Fortunately the conversation with the visa officer hadn’t got so detailed that we got tripped up there. So, that test was passed.
Then at the Nigerian immigration desk, the woman looking at my passport started asking questions. You see, a lot of people enter Nigeria ‘to visit friends’ but are actually coming in to fulfill a contract for work or volunteering – so the authorities ask questions, but half-heartedly.
This woman went so far as to ask ‘is he really your friend?’, and since I’d already had my butt kicked by the visa officer in Benin, I was better prepared mentally. I took the tactic of answering a question with a question and asked ‘why do you ask?’. It was effective, in part because it would be impolite on her part to suggest I was lying, and since she wasn’t hardened enough in her work and had no real evidence to back up that suggestion, she let it go – and let me go.
If she’d searched my luggage, she would have seen the paperwork from Burkina, and pretty much had me nailed, but it isn’t her job to search the luggage – and the people whose job it is to search the luggage are instructed to look for dangerous things, not work documents.
As Leonard Cohen says, ‘there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.’
Four days to travel, by air, a few hundred miles
Okay, so I got my Nigerian visa on Thursday - that's one day after leaving Burkina Faso.
The flight that could have taken me to Lagos that day had been cancelled a few days earlier, so I'm booked on a Friday afternoon flight - the only daily flight from Benin to neighbouring Nigeria.
Hotel, work (limited, since it is really tough to review a financial system remotely), internet, eat a bit, respond to emails about work in Winnipeg, write blog, write wife, catch up on the sleep missed the night before while traveling and negotiating the visa into Benin at 3 in the morning.
Friday - eat breakfast (coffee, hummous, thick yogourt, zatar in oil, French bread, coffee, mango juice), more responses to work emails, find out that my personal email website can't be opened because it's 'security certificate isn't up to date', pack, and go to the airport.
At the airport I find that the flight has been canceled - they give some excuse, but it seems apparent that the reason is that there's only five of us booked to fly on a 737. The two businessmen decide to take a car to Lagos (six hours through a border, police road checks, and the last few hours in the dark on Nigerian roads), and myself and two French Embassy workers decide to book on the flight the next day. We were offered to catch the 'delayed flight' later that same night, but decided that that was a smoke screen since now there'd only be three of us, and we'd be flying the next day anyways.
Fortunately, this trip, I brought along an old sim-card phone and bought sim-cards in each country I was in ($4 for a sim-card, plus time) and could call people to let them know of changed plans and options. Very, very helpful for everyone.
I went to their hotel (saved on taxifare, and had company for a little bit). More work emails (personal email still down - which is where all my travel emails were, including people's contact information, flight times, etc.), sleep, eating, figured out how to do more work on the financial review, and a glass of wine.
Saturday more of the same (still no personal email and this was getting worrisome) and back to the airport - five of us in a small Toyota crew-cab halfton which had been used to haul concrete making supplies - our poor luggage! This time there were lots of people at the 'Virgin Nigeria' ticket counter, so the flight went, and I got to Lagos, where I needed to phone my contact.
So, purchase Nigerian sim-card and time, change sim-card out and in, power up phone - and - my Nigerian contact information was gone. The reason being that every once in a while my backup battery fails, and then when I take out my big battery to swap sim-cards the whole phone dies and loses everything.
Okay, go to the internet to get his contact info - oh, right, my personal email is down. I am screwed. Check work email to see if I have something there, check google mail to see if I happened to forward this info there for storage (I just use google mail for storage for when I travel), check all the papers in my bag. Nothing.
Okay, whose info do I have? Finally find info from Burkina. Oh, crap, I'm going to have to let them know that I lost the crucial Nigeria contact info and the MBA there is going to tsk tsk about it - I don't like to appear incompetent after I've just done a financial review - weakens the authority of the thing. But, better that than languishing in Lagos - well, almost anything is better than languishing in Lagos - the crime capital of Africa.
She gives me the info 'from an email that Nigeria sent me' - 'yeah, yeah, just give me the number'. I don't want to spend my Nigerian phone time explaining the situation - and besides I should have written the number down instead of relying on two electronic sources.
Anyway, with a little more waiting, I get picked up, put in a church guesthouse close to the airport, and I'm in Lagos - too late to catch the one flight to Jos, but one step at a time gets the job done.
The flight that could have taken me to Lagos that day had been cancelled a few days earlier, so I'm booked on a Friday afternoon flight - the only daily flight from Benin to neighbouring Nigeria.
Hotel, work (limited, since it is really tough to review a financial system remotely), internet, eat a bit, respond to emails about work in Winnipeg, write blog, write wife, catch up on the sleep missed the night before while traveling and negotiating the visa into Benin at 3 in the morning.
Friday - eat breakfast (coffee, hummous, thick yogourt, zatar in oil, French bread, coffee, mango juice), more responses to work emails, find out that my personal email website can't be opened because it's 'security certificate isn't up to date', pack, and go to the airport.
At the airport I find that the flight has been canceled - they give some excuse, but it seems apparent that the reason is that there's only five of us booked to fly on a 737. The two businessmen decide to take a car to Lagos (six hours through a border, police road checks, and the last few hours in the dark on Nigerian roads), and myself and two French Embassy workers decide to book on the flight the next day. We were offered to catch the 'delayed flight' later that same night, but decided that that was a smoke screen since now there'd only be three of us, and we'd be flying the next day anyways.
Fortunately, this trip, I brought along an old sim-card phone and bought sim-cards in each country I was in ($4 for a sim-card, plus time) and could call people to let them know of changed plans and options. Very, very helpful for everyone.
I went to their hotel (saved on taxifare, and had company for a little bit). More work emails (personal email still down - which is where all my travel emails were, including people's contact information, flight times, etc.), sleep, eating, figured out how to do more work on the financial review, and a glass of wine.
Saturday more of the same (still no personal email and this was getting worrisome) and back to the airport - five of us in a small Toyota crew-cab halfton which had been used to haul concrete making supplies - our poor luggage! This time there were lots of people at the 'Virgin Nigeria' ticket counter, so the flight went, and I got to Lagos, where I needed to phone my contact.
So, purchase Nigerian sim-card and time, change sim-card out and in, power up phone - and - my Nigerian contact information was gone. The reason being that every once in a while my backup battery fails, and then when I take out my big battery to swap sim-cards the whole phone dies and loses everything.
Okay, go to the internet to get his contact info - oh, right, my personal email is down. I am screwed. Check work email to see if I have something there, check google mail to see if I happened to forward this info there for storage (I just use google mail for storage for when I travel), check all the papers in my bag. Nothing.
Okay, whose info do I have? Finally find info from Burkina. Oh, crap, I'm going to have to let them know that I lost the crucial Nigeria contact info and the MBA there is going to tsk tsk about it - I don't like to appear incompetent after I've just done a financial review - weakens the authority of the thing. But, better that than languishing in Lagos - well, almost anything is better than languishing in Lagos - the crime capital of Africa.
She gives me the info 'from an email that Nigeria sent me' - 'yeah, yeah, just give me the number'. I don't want to spend my Nigerian phone time explaining the situation - and besides I should have written the number down instead of relying on two electronic sources.
Anyway, with a little more waiting, I get picked up, put in a church guesthouse close to the airport, and I'm in Lagos - too late to catch the one flight to Jos, but one step at a time gets the job done.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
contributing to the economy, though somewhat unwillingly part 3b
So, at the end of the previous blog I'm in the waiting room of the Nigerian Embassy in Benin, visa documents in hand to get my visa for Nigeria, one of the few countries to border Nigeria, and thus one of the few countries that would give non-residents a visa to Nigeria.
Finally, I was called upon, and entered a bureaucrat's office that is typical of those outside of the economically developed world. The entire building is made of concrete, except for ceilings, thus the walls were bare painted concrete/plaster, decorated only with a small picture of the Nigerian President. A desk and chair for the visa officer, and two plastic deck chairs for visitors. This being an Embassy, the door was a very nice varnished wooden door.
Almost nothing on the desk besides a telephone and the specific needs for his task, a reciept book with carbon paper for triplicates, book with blank visas, official stamp, ink pad, and a folder with the visa applications of those who had come before.
He asked for my papers and after a brief look began to harangue me about the fact that there was no residence card among the papers. I told him that I'd been told that I didn't need that in Benin, that I could get a Nigerian visa without it. He said 'No, I couldn't'. Who told me I could?
I gave him some of the story I've told you, omitting, naturally, that I'd paid extra for a Benin visa. This had no impact on him. By the time he told me that I'd have to pay extra - the equivilent of a resident card - I had completely given away my position. He knew that:
1) I had an obligation to get to Nigeria;
2) I'd already invested considerably to get to this point in the journey;
3) there was a paid flight from Lagos to Kinshasa that would be lost if I wasn't on the plane, and
4) I had nothing authoritative to support my position that I didn't need the resident permit.
In addition:
5) he would lose nothing if he didn't give me a visa;
6) it was the end of his workday, and if I walked out the door as a bluff or to talk to someone else, he could easily call my bluff, and thus;
7) the tactic of just waiting for him to suggest an alternative or capitulate had significant limitations.
So, I was, and saw myself, through a combination of reasons, at his mercy - in a context where the only important thing had always been 'how much will this rich Canadian pay for this visa?'.
He set the price for the visa, I wriggled like a worm on a hook, and eventually paid 'the equivilent of a resident card'.
I got what I wanted, but because I had misunderstood the situation (and I'm not referring to the misunderstanding about whether the visa was possible or not), I paid more than I needed to. I'd told him my story to appeal to his compassion (those who know Nigerian bureacracy will be rolling on the floor laughing), but all I accomplished was to assist him in setting the price I'd be willing to pay.
I had broken several rules, learned in other contexts, but not applied here:
1) wherever possible, avoid getting into a position where I feel that I have no alternatives;
2) never let someone who can set the price know how badly I want what they have;
I so rarely get into the 'very few alternatives' situation, and when I have it has been in contexts where someone I know can bail me out. Usually, overseas, I'm in a position of flexibility, and just got up and walked - and got called back and accomodated in return for a small 'gift'.
To take this one level deeper, I am learning to be more assertive, more goal-oriented - and it's taking time to learn the skills that go along with that. If I'd been more assertive my whole life, I'd never have given away my position at the start of the conversation. I'd have walked in on the presumption that there might be trouble, and given the impression that 'oh, I'd gotten a whim to go to Nigeria, and had been told by the Nigerian consulate in Canada that I could get my visa here'. And I'd have done it early enough that I could have got up and walked.
Hopefully it won't take too much longer to get the skills necessary to go with adding this option in how to approach someone I need something from. Next up - Congo - where some of the things I want to do in-country will also have some of the same dynamics.
There's more in some of the fine details, that I'll talk about later.
Finally, I was called upon, and entered a bureaucrat's office that is typical of those outside of the economically developed world. The entire building is made of concrete, except for ceilings, thus the walls were bare painted concrete/plaster, decorated only with a small picture of the Nigerian President. A desk and chair for the visa officer, and two plastic deck chairs for visitors. This being an Embassy, the door was a very nice varnished wooden door.
Almost nothing on the desk besides a telephone and the specific needs for his task, a reciept book with carbon paper for triplicates, book with blank visas, official stamp, ink pad, and a folder with the visa applications of those who had come before.
He asked for my papers and after a brief look began to harangue me about the fact that there was no residence card among the papers. I told him that I'd been told that I didn't need that in Benin, that I could get a Nigerian visa without it. He said 'No, I couldn't'. Who told me I could?
I gave him some of the story I've told you, omitting, naturally, that I'd paid extra for a Benin visa. This had no impact on him. By the time he told me that I'd have to pay extra - the equivilent of a resident card - I had completely given away my position. He knew that:
1) I had an obligation to get to Nigeria;
2) I'd already invested considerably to get to this point in the journey;
3) there was a paid flight from Lagos to Kinshasa that would be lost if I wasn't on the plane, and
4) I had nothing authoritative to support my position that I didn't need the resident permit.
In addition:
5) he would lose nothing if he didn't give me a visa;
6) it was the end of his workday, and if I walked out the door as a bluff or to talk to someone else, he could easily call my bluff, and thus;
7) the tactic of just waiting for him to suggest an alternative or capitulate had significant limitations.
So, I was, and saw myself, through a combination of reasons, at his mercy - in a context where the only important thing had always been 'how much will this rich Canadian pay for this visa?'.
He set the price for the visa, I wriggled like a worm on a hook, and eventually paid 'the equivilent of a resident card'.
I got what I wanted, but because I had misunderstood the situation (and I'm not referring to the misunderstanding about whether the visa was possible or not), I paid more than I needed to. I'd told him my story to appeal to his compassion (those who know Nigerian bureacracy will be rolling on the floor laughing), but all I accomplished was to assist him in setting the price I'd be willing to pay.
I had broken several rules, learned in other contexts, but not applied here:
1) wherever possible, avoid getting into a position where I feel that I have no alternatives;
2) never let someone who can set the price know how badly I want what they have;
I so rarely get into the 'very few alternatives' situation, and when I have it has been in contexts where someone I know can bail me out. Usually, overseas, I'm in a position of flexibility, and just got up and walked - and got called back and accomodated in return for a small 'gift'.
To take this one level deeper, I am learning to be more assertive, more goal-oriented - and it's taking time to learn the skills that go along with that. If I'd been more assertive my whole life, I'd never have given away my position at the start of the conversation. I'd have walked in on the presumption that there might be trouble, and given the impression that 'oh, I'd gotten a whim to go to Nigeria, and had been told by the Nigerian consulate in Canada that I could get my visa here'. And I'd have done it early enough that I could have got up and walked.
Hopefully it won't take too much longer to get the skills necessary to go with adding this option in how to approach someone I need something from. Next up - Congo - where some of the things I want to do in-country will also have some of the same dynamics.
There's more in some of the fine details, that I'll talk about later.
contributing to the economy, though somewhat unwillingly part 3
Three stories, one thread.
Nigerian visa, part 3
I awake late - having slept through my alarm after traveling all night, and instead of being at the Nigerian Embassy before it opens at 10:00, it is 10:39 and I'm just now tottering to the bathroom.
Go, go, go, gotta get this done by 12 noon, or I'm toast - speaking of which, no time for breakfast. Grab some water, get the desk man to book me a taxi, and off I go. I'd planned on walking the kilometer and a half, using the google map I'd printed. Good thing I woke up too late to do that.
Firstly, the Nigerian Embassy was at least a kilometer further away than the map said, and secondly, the last turn was a right turn, not google's suggested left turn. Google's Nigerian Embassy was at least two kilometers away from the real Nigerian Embassy! Phew, disaster averted. How would I have recovered from that on foot, with limited time?
I told the taxi fellow he could go - he said, 'no, he'd stay'. I considered the cost of a waiting taxi, and decided to go with his suggestion.
The requirements were posted - two photos, passport, letter of invitation, photocopy of passport front page, photocopy of (expensive)Benin visa page, vaccination booklet, residence card and photocopy of residence card (I didn't need that, so ignore...). I guess I'll have to have the required photocopies done here at the Embassy.
I went to the window, and was told 'no, I couldn't'. To get an interview for a visa, I needed to bring the photocopies, not have them done at the Embassy. Oh. Good thing the taxi driver was NOT an accommodating personality, and that I was.
I was given an application to fill out, and started doing so - to be told somewhat alarmedly - 'no, I couldn't'. I was supposed to take that application form to the copier, get my two copies made and bring the 'original' back un-marked. Okay, my mistake.
Off we went to find a copier, who was apparently somewhere in the direction of a haphazard arm-wave. Time - somewhere after 11:15. Visa office closes at 12:00.
Found the copier; I didn't have small change, so the taxi driver got the copies made, came back to the car, and we returned to the Embassy, while I continued hurriedly filling out the application forms, hoping and expecting that there'd be no more setbacks, as time ticked on.
We arrived back at the Embassy, and this time I had no thought of suggesting that he leave.
11:45. The doorman at the window declared my papers complete, stapled the photos to the application forms (did he wince as he stapled my photo onto his 'original'?), and waved me in. Sat and waited. And thus I became, once again, familiar with the phenomenon of 'Hurry and wait' .
I napped, and lost my place in the 'queue' as a robed cross-wearing gentelman (Egyptian Orthodox, perhaps?) who'd come in after me took advantage of my groggy state to get in before me. Oh, well, I'm sure he's doing good work. My bad for not remembering to be assertive in West Africa, especially in the coastal countries (I'd been told just the day before that the people in the coastal countries of West Africa are more aggressive.
Finally, last, my turn.
last installment later.
Nigerian visa, part 3
I awake late - having slept through my alarm after traveling all night, and instead of being at the Nigerian Embassy before it opens at 10:00, it is 10:39 and I'm just now tottering to the bathroom.
Go, go, go, gotta get this done by 12 noon, or I'm toast - speaking of which, no time for breakfast. Grab some water, get the desk man to book me a taxi, and off I go. I'd planned on walking the kilometer and a half, using the google map I'd printed. Good thing I woke up too late to do that.
Firstly, the Nigerian Embassy was at least a kilometer further away than the map said, and secondly, the last turn was a right turn, not google's suggested left turn. Google's Nigerian Embassy was at least two kilometers away from the real Nigerian Embassy! Phew, disaster averted. How would I have recovered from that on foot, with limited time?
I told the taxi fellow he could go - he said, 'no, he'd stay'. I considered the cost of a waiting taxi, and decided to go with his suggestion.
The requirements were posted - two photos, passport, letter of invitation, photocopy of passport front page, photocopy of (expensive)Benin visa page, vaccination booklet, residence card and photocopy of residence card (I didn't need that, so ignore...). I guess I'll have to have the required photocopies done here at the Embassy.
I went to the window, and was told 'no, I couldn't'. To get an interview for a visa, I needed to bring the photocopies, not have them done at the Embassy. Oh. Good thing the taxi driver was NOT an accommodating personality, and that I was.
I was given an application to fill out, and started doing so - to be told somewhat alarmedly - 'no, I couldn't'. I was supposed to take that application form to the copier, get my two copies made and bring the 'original' back un-marked. Okay, my mistake.
Off we went to find a copier, who was apparently somewhere in the direction of a haphazard arm-wave. Time - somewhere after 11:15. Visa office closes at 12:00.
Found the copier; I didn't have small change, so the taxi driver got the copies made, came back to the car, and we returned to the Embassy, while I continued hurriedly filling out the application forms, hoping and expecting that there'd be no more setbacks, as time ticked on.
We arrived back at the Embassy, and this time I had no thought of suggesting that he leave.
11:45. The doorman at the window declared my papers complete, stapled the photos to the application forms (did he wince as he stapled my photo onto his 'original'?), and waved me in. Sat and waited. And thus I became, once again, familiar with the phenomenon of 'Hurry and wait' .
I napped, and lost my place in the 'queue' as a robed cross-wearing gentelman (Egyptian Orthodox, perhaps?) who'd come in after me took advantage of my groggy state to get in before me. Oh, well, I'm sure he's doing good work. My bad for not remembering to be assertive in West Africa, especially in the coastal countries (I'd been told just the day before that the people in the coastal countries of West Africa are more aggressive.
Finally, last, my turn.
last installment later.
contributing to the economy, though somewhat unwillingly part 2
Three stories, one thread.
Nigerian visa story, part 2
Okay, so I can stay in Benin for 48 hours on a transit visa, and I'm at the hotel. It is 6:00 in the morning, but I'm in no shape to wander around until I could only pay for one night, and I don't want to show up at the Nigerian Embassy being and looking homeless, just in case appearances matter.
So, I register, and am taken to my room - 310 at the Riviera Hotel. I suppose you could argue that it is like the Riviera compared to its surroundings, but that says more about the surroundings than about the Hotel. To be fair, the builders did a good job, and I suspect that the neighbourhood declined after the hotel was built - unfortunate for the builder because it is a nice third world hotel - with a 'business centre', from which I am typing this blog - after I relearned how to set the French 'Azerty' keyboard to work like the English 'Qwerty' keyboard.
But, back to the economy and my conversation with the man who set me up in the hotel. We got to my room and he indicated that the regular price was 41,800 CFA (about $90), but since I arrived so late he'd only charge me half for the first 'night'. I agreed, paid the 20,000 CFA for the first night, then the 41,800 CFA for the second night, and he gave me a receipt for the 41,800 CFA.
Hmmmm....
When he noticed my name in the reservations book, he erased it.
...I think I understand...
Nigerian visa story, part 2
Okay, so I can stay in Benin for 48 hours on a transit visa, and I'm at the hotel. It is 6:00 in the morning, but I'm in no shape to wander around until I could only pay for one night, and I don't want to show up at the Nigerian Embassy being and looking homeless, just in case appearances matter.
So, I register, and am taken to my room - 310 at the Riviera Hotel. I suppose you could argue that it is like the Riviera compared to its surroundings, but that says more about the surroundings than about the Hotel. To be fair, the builders did a good job, and I suspect that the neighbourhood declined after the hotel was built - unfortunate for the builder because it is a nice third world hotel - with a 'business centre', from which I am typing this blog - after I relearned how to set the French 'Azerty' keyboard to work like the English 'Qwerty' keyboard.
But, back to the economy and my conversation with the man who set me up in the hotel. We got to my room and he indicated that the regular price was 41,800 CFA (about $90), but since I arrived so late he'd only charge me half for the first 'night'. I agreed, paid the 20,000 CFA for the first night, then the 41,800 CFA for the second night, and he gave me a receipt for the 41,800 CFA.
Hmmmm....
When he noticed my name in the reservations book, he erased it.
...I think I understand...
contributing to the economy, though somewhat unwillingly part 1
Okay; three stories, one thread.
Nigerian visa - Story 1:
I'm in Africa, doing work in three countries - Burkina Faso, Nigeria, and Congo (also checking in our orphanage, with Nel and Jason).
I should have got my Nigerian visa while still in Canada - but it was going to take three weeks and by the time I started I didn't have the more than two months required to get the three visas, and I could get the Burkina visa at the Burkina airport, so.....
Several weeks ago, the Burkina office sent their 23 year office veteran to find out if I could get a Nigerian visa in Burkina - 'yes, I could'. 'Phew', sigh of relief. I got the Congo visa, and left for Burkina.
Tuesday I arrived at the Nigerian Embassy in Burkina to apply for that visa and was told, 'No, I couldn't'. I needed to be a resident of Burkina to get a Nigerian visa in Burkina....BUT, you can get a visa for Nigeria from countries bordering Nigeria, even if you're not a resident of those countries. Okaaay... it's not 'no', but there's a lot of steps yet - no sigh of relief yet. We booked a flight to Benin - one of the intermediate points to get to Nigeria anyways. A phone call to the Benin visa office informed us that I could get the Benin visa at the Benin (Cotenou) airport.
I arrived at the Benin airport at 3:00 AM! and was told 'No, I couldn't'. I would have to turn around, go back to Burkina, get the Benin visa and come back. Well, I said 'no, I wouldn't'. Actually, what I said was that this wouldn't work because I needed to be at the Nigerian Embassy later that morning(Thursday, today) to apply for the Nigerian visa.
The three customs officials argued, one wanting to help me, another not, a third quiet. Back and forth - at least five times - 'we can't help you, you have to go back'. And, in reply, the same five times 'but I HAVE TO get the Nigerian visa tomorrow', and stayed where I was - not stubbornly, just 'waitingly'. Phone calls to superiors, shaking of heads, arguments (not with me - amongst themselves), and finally 'if you stay here till 5:00 someone will come who can give you a visa.' phew', small sigh of anticipated relief.
Okay, I'll wait - started reading Albert Memmi's 'Decolonization and the Decolonized'.
At 5:25 I'm approached by the policeman who didn't want to help me, my passport in hand, visa inside - everything was in order. Phew, sigh of relief. He took me to my hotel free of charge. I thanked him, and he said it wasn't easy.
Oh, I forgot to mention - this cost me several times the usual visa fee.
'The corruption ranges from the policeman....all the way up to large importers... who pay dividends to bureaucrats to obtain import licences'. Albert Memmi, page 8.
Nigerian visa - Story 1:
I'm in Africa, doing work in three countries - Burkina Faso, Nigeria, and Congo (also checking in our orphanage, with Nel and Jason).
I should have got my Nigerian visa while still in Canada - but it was going to take three weeks and by the time I started I didn't have the more than two months required to get the three visas, and I could get the Burkina visa at the Burkina airport, so.....
Several weeks ago, the Burkina office sent their 23 year office veteran to find out if I could get a Nigerian visa in Burkina - 'yes, I could'. 'Phew', sigh of relief. I got the Congo visa, and left for Burkina.
Tuesday I arrived at the Nigerian Embassy in Burkina to apply for that visa and was told, 'No, I couldn't'. I needed to be a resident of Burkina to get a Nigerian visa in Burkina....BUT, you can get a visa for Nigeria from countries bordering Nigeria, even if you're not a resident of those countries. Okaaay... it's not 'no', but there's a lot of steps yet - no sigh of relief yet. We booked a flight to Benin - one of the intermediate points to get to Nigeria anyways. A phone call to the Benin visa office informed us that I could get the Benin visa at the Benin (Cotenou) airport.
I arrived at the Benin airport at 3:00 AM! and was told 'No, I couldn't'. I would have to turn around, go back to Burkina, get the Benin visa and come back. Well, I said 'no, I wouldn't'. Actually, what I said was that this wouldn't work because I needed to be at the Nigerian Embassy later that morning(Thursday, today) to apply for the Nigerian visa.
The three customs officials argued, one wanting to help me, another not, a third quiet. Back and forth - at least five times - 'we can't help you, you have to go back'. And, in reply, the same five times 'but I HAVE TO get the Nigerian visa tomorrow', and stayed where I was - not stubbornly, just 'waitingly'. Phone calls to superiors, shaking of heads, arguments (not with me - amongst themselves), and finally 'if you stay here till 5:00 someone will come who can give you a visa.' phew', small sigh of anticipated relief.
Okay, I'll wait - started reading Albert Memmi's 'Decolonization and the Decolonized'.
At 5:25 I'm approached by the policeman who didn't want to help me, my passport in hand, visa inside - everything was in order. Phew, sigh of relief. He took me to my hotel free of charge. I thanked him, and he said it wasn't easy.
Oh, I forgot to mention - this cost me several times the usual visa fee.
'The corruption ranges from the policeman....all the way up to large importers... who pay dividends to bureaucrats to obtain import licences'. Albert Memmi, page 8.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Yesterday, on the side of the street, walking, I saw a naked man - not one stitch of clothing. My friend's driveby diagnosis was 'schizophrenia', which prompted a conversation about the treatment of mental illness and other disabilities in Burkina Faso.
Downs Syndrome - in four years she'd never seen a Downs Syndrome person in the country - and had been told that there is a special school for them, which she wasn't sure how to understand, given the poverty of the country (175th out of 181 countries ranked).
One traditional treatment she has seen was when she saw about a dozen people chained to trees in a courtyard - each person had their own tree, and couldn't reach any other person. She gathered that our term for what they were being treated for would be 'psychotic episodes'. The traditional healer claimed that his treatment 'cured' them in somewhere between three days to three weeks. A psychiatrist she knows said that 'yes, that was about the average range in length of time for an untreated psychotic episode'.
I've seen very few people with physical disabilities - some people limping, but that could also just be a temporary injury. I was told that there was a polio outbreak several decades ago, resulting in a significant number of people without full use of their legs. They are treated well - equipped with hand-cranked wheelchairs, trained in a trade to support themselves, and generally highly regarded. And there are services for blind and deaf people.
We know one family with a severely multiple handicapped child, and treatments there have ranged from modern medical care, through faith healings and traditional medicine - managing to keep the child alive for more than five years now.
Services for learning disabilities are almost non-existent (other than perhaps in the most expensive schools), so, other than for those lucky enough to get personalized attention in small classes, any variety of learning disabilities would lead to illiteracy.
The remarkable thing about the naked man is that he drew no attention whatsoever (other than a couple of rubber-necking white people in a car). We saw him again on our way home an hour later - he also had reversed directions - wasn't carrying anything. Just walking.
Downs Syndrome - in four years she'd never seen a Downs Syndrome person in the country - and had been told that there is a special school for them, which she wasn't sure how to understand, given the poverty of the country (175th out of 181 countries ranked).
One traditional treatment she has seen was when she saw about a dozen people chained to trees in a courtyard - each person had their own tree, and couldn't reach any other person. She gathered that our term for what they were being treated for would be 'psychotic episodes'. The traditional healer claimed that his treatment 'cured' them in somewhere between three days to three weeks. A psychiatrist she knows said that 'yes, that was about the average range in length of time for an untreated psychotic episode'.
I've seen very few people with physical disabilities - some people limping, but that could also just be a temporary injury. I was told that there was a polio outbreak several decades ago, resulting in a significant number of people without full use of their legs. They are treated well - equipped with hand-cranked wheelchairs, trained in a trade to support themselves, and generally highly regarded. And there are services for blind and deaf people.
We know one family with a severely multiple handicapped child, and treatments there have ranged from modern medical care, through faith healings and traditional medicine - managing to keep the child alive for more than five years now.
Services for learning disabilities are almost non-existent (other than perhaps in the most expensive schools), so, other than for those lucky enough to get personalized attention in small classes, any variety of learning disabilities would lead to illiteracy.
The remarkable thing about the naked man is that he drew no attention whatsoever (other than a couple of rubber-necking white people in a car). We saw him again on our way home an hour later - he also had reversed directions - wasn't carrying anything. Just walking.
two surprises in one day!
Today there were two surprises - one good, and one not so good.
First, the good surprise - starting with a bad one a few days ago. When I arrived at the airport in Ouagadougou, I was informed by the health inspector that my yellow fever shot had expired - and sure enough, it had - four years ago. Well, there is a protocol but I didn't know that, and my limited French didn't give me a chance to find out what it was. The first step was the confiscation of my yellow vaccination booklet - just gone! Okay, I'll have to get a shot and a new booklet.
Today I went to the one place in Ouagadougou where international travellers can get vaccinations, a nondescript place that announced 'vaccinations' as one of several services provided - and then listed the vaccinations available, but on a sign so old that the paint had disappeared and all that was left of the names was the slightly less discoloured places where the paint had been. Hepatitis was the first one, now listed in a ghostly white that didn't bode well for any travelers fated to enter.
We parked, we found the service window, figured out how and whom to pay, and whom to talk to, and who would give the shot. After some seamingly meaningless questions about which flight I had come in on, a woman reached into a box and pulled out my confiscated yellow vaccination booklet! I guess people frequently arrive without the required shots, and the airport delivers the yellow booklets to the one place we have to go to get vaccinated. Good surprise!
And, yes, the needle was in its original packaging before he used it.
Then it was off to the Nigerian Embassy to get my Nigerian visa. However, we had recieved false information - yes, it was true that a non-Burkina citizen could get their Nigerian visa here - but only if they were a 'resident' of Burkina, not just a 'tourist'. This was NOT the information we'd been given earlier. So, after several phone calls it became clear that I'd be going to Benin to get my Nigerian visa (assuming that the information we'd now been given was accurate).
Anyway, the work in Burkina will close tomorrow with recommendations for the accounting and administrative staff - as always, good work is being done, but there are a number of details that need to be corrected to improve the accuracy of the reports, the efficiency of the work, and the quality of information for management decisions.
Next time from Benin (a new country for me - #45).
First, the good surprise - starting with a bad one a few days ago. When I arrived at the airport in Ouagadougou, I was informed by the health inspector that my yellow fever shot had expired - and sure enough, it had - four years ago. Well, there is a protocol but I didn't know that, and my limited French didn't give me a chance to find out what it was. The first step was the confiscation of my yellow vaccination booklet - just gone! Okay, I'll have to get a shot and a new booklet.
Today I went to the one place in Ouagadougou where international travellers can get vaccinations, a nondescript place that announced 'vaccinations' as one of several services provided - and then listed the vaccinations available, but on a sign so old that the paint had disappeared and all that was left of the names was the slightly less discoloured places where the paint had been. Hepatitis was the first one, now listed in a ghostly white that didn't bode well for any travelers fated to enter.
We parked, we found the service window, figured out how and whom to pay, and whom to talk to, and who would give the shot. After some seamingly meaningless questions about which flight I had come in on, a woman reached into a box and pulled out my confiscated yellow vaccination booklet! I guess people frequently arrive without the required shots, and the airport delivers the yellow booklets to the one place we have to go to get vaccinated. Good surprise!
And, yes, the needle was in its original packaging before he used it.
Then it was off to the Nigerian Embassy to get my Nigerian visa. However, we had recieved false information - yes, it was true that a non-Burkina citizen could get their Nigerian visa here - but only if they were a 'resident' of Burkina, not just a 'tourist'. This was NOT the information we'd been given earlier. So, after several phone calls it became clear that I'd be going to Benin to get my Nigerian visa (assuming that the information we'd now been given was accurate).
Anyway, the work in Burkina will close tomorrow with recommendations for the accounting and administrative staff - as always, good work is being done, but there are a number of details that need to be corrected to improve the accuracy of the reports, the efficiency of the work, and the quality of information for management decisions.
Next time from Benin (a new country for me - #45).
Sunday, November 21, 2010
So, I'm 'back in the saddle'
I think this trip overseas (perhaps my 30th) has been one of the hardest for getting 'into it'. There is always, of course, jetlag and getting re-oriented to new weather, language, and people. However, this time, for the first time, I seriously wondered why I had accepted the invitation to do this work, in fact, I concluded that it had been a blunder on my part, a serious blunder.
As is too common with me, you didn't hear about this until I'd experienced a turn-around.
So, what changed?
I'm not entirely sure, but here are the most likely reasons for the turn-around.
I happened to catch a Facebook friend on-line and we chatted briefly. I dumped, there wasn't a lot of response, other than some expressions of listening, but that helped.
I had lunch with some people from Southern Alberta who went to school in Winnipeg who are working here - so that was a geographical/cultural connection, as well as some thoughtful responses to one of the difficulties I was facing in the work I'm doing here. Again, I hadn't known them before, I'll not likely see them again, but it was friendly and engaged Canadian contact.
I went to church in the morning - maybe the sermon which took some time to outline the deep suffering of others helped me to put my own troubles into context. It's the first time I've heard relatively familiar music since I arrived. Someone asked me to do them a favour by carrying a package back to someone they know in Manitoba - I like being a 'connector' between people. And, I was asked to close in prayer, which I took as an honour (yes, it wasn't so much personal as it was my geographic and cultural origins in a Western country, but still, there are times when you take what you can get.).
I figured out how to do the laundry here - I'd been collecting clothes that needed washing, but the number of clean underwear was now merely one, so I needed to take some initiative. I found the washing machine (I was sure that it was only going to be a washing board), frightened off a rat (NOT a common occurrence in the contexts I'm in Africa), and proceeded to get my clothes washed - which wasn't entirely straightforward until I figured out how to keep it running all the way through the cycle. Which was good, because I 'solved a problem'.
I have a phone - got a simcard for my open phone and now am 'connected' locally.
I think I'm getting control of my weight again - it's been a struggle for three months as I've tried to get below 180 pounds, but my body stubbornly refuses. In fact, I'd been eating enough on this trip that my weight and waistline are increasing at least a little. But, today I weighed the situation mentally, and decided to turn down the inclination towards 'pleasure'/eating, and turn up the inclination towards 'discipline'/eating responsibly. I've already eaten considerably less today than in the each of hte last four days, so I'm feeling good about that.
I figured out how to make a 'yoga mat' out of a couple of woven floor mats, so I'll do yoga as soon as I've done the blog. It isn't the 'yoga' so much, as it is the 'exercise'. I've identified this year that there is a very strong connection for me between strenuous exercise and emotional well-being. And, believe me, yoga in this heat qualifies as 'strenuous'.
In large part, these changes occurred as a result of that 'chat' with a friend, which led to me thinking, 'what do I usually do when I need a shot in the arm?', and slowly identified, and opened my eyes to, ways to get those things done here.
Have a good week, everyone.
As is too common with me, you didn't hear about this until I'd experienced a turn-around.
So, what changed?
I'm not entirely sure, but here are the most likely reasons for the turn-around.
I happened to catch a Facebook friend on-line and we chatted briefly. I dumped, there wasn't a lot of response, other than some expressions of listening, but that helped.
I had lunch with some people from Southern Alberta who went to school in Winnipeg who are working here - so that was a geographical/cultural connection, as well as some thoughtful responses to one of the difficulties I was facing in the work I'm doing here. Again, I hadn't known them before, I'll not likely see them again, but it was friendly and engaged Canadian contact.
I went to church in the morning - maybe the sermon which took some time to outline the deep suffering of others helped me to put my own troubles into context. It's the first time I've heard relatively familiar music since I arrived. Someone asked me to do them a favour by carrying a package back to someone they know in Manitoba - I like being a 'connector' between people. And, I was asked to close in prayer, which I took as an honour (yes, it wasn't so much personal as it was my geographic and cultural origins in a Western country, but still, there are times when you take what you can get.).
I figured out how to do the laundry here - I'd been collecting clothes that needed washing, but the number of clean underwear was now merely one, so I needed to take some initiative. I found the washing machine (I was sure that it was only going to be a washing board), frightened off a rat (NOT a common occurrence in the contexts I'm in Africa), and proceeded to get my clothes washed - which wasn't entirely straightforward until I figured out how to keep it running all the way through the cycle. Which was good, because I 'solved a problem'.
I have a phone - got a simcard for my open phone and now am 'connected' locally.
I think I'm getting control of my weight again - it's been a struggle for three months as I've tried to get below 180 pounds, but my body stubbornly refuses. In fact, I'd been eating enough on this trip that my weight and waistline are increasing at least a little. But, today I weighed the situation mentally, and decided to turn down the inclination towards 'pleasure'/eating, and turn up the inclination towards 'discipline'/eating responsibly. I've already eaten considerably less today than in the each of hte last four days, so I'm feeling good about that.
I figured out how to make a 'yoga mat' out of a couple of woven floor mats, so I'll do yoga as soon as I've done the blog. It isn't the 'yoga' so much, as it is the 'exercise'. I've identified this year that there is a very strong connection for me between strenuous exercise and emotional well-being. And, believe me, yoga in this heat qualifies as 'strenuous'.
In large part, these changes occurred as a result of that 'chat' with a friend, which led to me thinking, 'what do I usually do when I need a shot in the arm?', and slowly identified, and opened my eyes to, ways to get those things done here.
Have a good week, everyone.
Sunday in Ouagadougou
It's been a slow start to the work in Africa. I arrived Thursday evening, worked all day Friday till 5:00, and now have spent most of the weekend recovering from lost sleep, jet lag, and some malady that was giving me a headache and dizziness. I'm now awake, free of headaches and dizziness, and ready to work on Monday.
We were going to go to Orodara - about 450 kilometers west of Ouagadougou - a three day commitment to travel there, work one day, and travel back. By bus. In 35 degree heat. Starting today.
We decided not to do that, but instead find other ways to address the problem - and I had, by chance, a very helpful conversation over lunch with people who had some other perspectives on the situation - a conversation I would not have had if we'd gone out there, and which resolves the most significant dilemma we were confronted with. So, I'm going to call that the first breakthrough of the trip - a trip that has had the opposite of breakthroughs for some time.
I also bought, finally, soap, shampoo and toothepaste. I'm in the habit of, to avoid overstuffed luggage and/or the 'liquids and gels police' at the airport, to buying my consumable toiletries in-country when I arrive. However, this time, for reasons we'll summarize as 'foggy brain', it took me three days to make the purchase - don't worry - I did shower and brush my teeth - just not with the usual foamy accompaniments. My hair is really suffering the most from this, since it's used to a daily shampoo (which I'm told by an impeccable source, is actually unnecessary).
I know, the blogs aren't terribly interesting yet. It's taking a little while to generate experiences worthy of significant note.
We were going to go to Orodara - about 450 kilometers west of Ouagadougou - a three day commitment to travel there, work one day, and travel back. By bus. In 35 degree heat. Starting today.
We decided not to do that, but instead find other ways to address the problem - and I had, by chance, a very helpful conversation over lunch with people who had some other perspectives on the situation - a conversation I would not have had if we'd gone out there, and which resolves the most significant dilemma we were confronted with. So, I'm going to call that the first breakthrough of the trip - a trip that has had the opposite of breakthroughs for some time.
I also bought, finally, soap, shampoo and toothepaste. I'm in the habit of, to avoid overstuffed luggage and/or the 'liquids and gels police' at the airport, to buying my consumable toiletries in-country when I arrive. However, this time, for reasons we'll summarize as 'foggy brain', it took me three days to make the purchase - don't worry - I did shower and brush my teeth - just not with the usual foamy accompaniments. My hair is really suffering the most from this, since it's used to a daily shampoo (which I'm told by an impeccable source, is actually unnecessary).
I know, the blogs aren't terribly interesting yet. It's taking a little while to generate experiences worthy of significant note.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Day 3
I've been in Burkina Faso for a full day now, and am enjoying a Saturday in which I'll rest some, work some, and I started the day playing soccer at a schoolyard next door.
7:15 am, I was awoken to join two dozen other men - mostly younger than I, but not all younger in a three hour pickup game of soccer. I lasted an hour and a half and walked home. They were good. I contributed to a goal by stripping the ball from an opponent in the offensive zone and getting it to one of our players, who assisted in the goal.
I then concluded my time by not marking my man properly (I thought he was too far away to score) and he blasted a goal in from thirty meters out.
Unfortunately my head wasn't in the game, because I'd stayed up too long reading Stieg Larson's first book, 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' - and reminded myself to stick to reading boring non-fiction unless I really did have no responsibilities the next day.
My work on Friday was eventful, but, of course, I can't blog about that.
Sigh....
David
7:15 am, I was awoken to join two dozen other men - mostly younger than I, but not all younger in a three hour pickup game of soccer. I lasted an hour and a half and walked home. They were good. I contributed to a goal by stripping the ball from an opponent in the offensive zone and getting it to one of our players, who assisted in the goal.
I then concluded my time by not marking my man properly (I thought he was too far away to score) and he blasted a goal in from thirty meters out.
Unfortunately my head wasn't in the game, because I'd stayed up too long reading Stieg Larson's first book, 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' - and reminded myself to stick to reading boring non-fiction unless I really did have no responsibilities the next day.
My work on Friday was eventful, but, of course, I can't blog about that.
Sigh....
David
Thursday, November 18, 2010
First evening in Africa - Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso
I'd forgotten how the heat in Africa feels - it's not the same everywhere on the continent, but there's something 'hot' about it in a different way - maybe the dryness of the heat, or dustiness - I don't know. Maybe the smells are just different because it's a different place than Canada.
I'm in the same guesthouse that I've been in the other two times I've been here - which felt very familiar and stable - but the stability will end soon, as the owner is selling it, and MCC will have to find some other place to put guests.
Ate a beef/macaroni/cheese casserole for supper - not African fare - it was made by my hostess who is Canadian. So far the only Burkinabe thing I've done is drink the water - which has been filtered and cooled - so no direct Burkinabe experience yet, except a brief one at the airport.
I was told that I could go outside, get Burkina money to pay for my visa and come back in. I went outside, got the money, but the guard wouldn't let me back in. So I'll have to go back tomorrow morning - inefficient but technically the correct way to do it.
On the way back and forth I noticed a young woman who looked a little 'lost', and sure enough, she was a Canadian waiting for a Cdn Embassy staffperson to come and pick her up. She wondered if it was safe to stand where she was - at the entrance to the airport. A reasonable question for someone in a new circumstance surrounded by people she didn't know and had no idea how to 'read' (and who had already pestered her somewhat more than necessary with offers of rides). We assured her it was, and went on our way. I considered waiting there with her until her ride showed up, but that seemed a little more than was necessary, and my ride had a child who was going to a party, so couldn't wait on almost surely frivolous concerns.
I'm in the same guesthouse that I've been in the other two times I've been here - which felt very familiar and stable - but the stability will end soon, as the owner is selling it, and MCC will have to find some other place to put guests.
Ate a beef/macaroni/cheese casserole for supper - not African fare - it was made by my hostess who is Canadian. So far the only Burkinabe thing I've done is drink the water - which has been filtered and cooled - so no direct Burkinabe experience yet, except a brief one at the airport.
I was told that I could go outside, get Burkina money to pay for my visa and come back in. I went outside, got the money, but the guard wouldn't let me back in. So I'll have to go back tomorrow morning - inefficient but technically the correct way to do it.
On the way back and forth I noticed a young woman who looked a little 'lost', and sure enough, she was a Canadian waiting for a Cdn Embassy staffperson to come and pick her up. She wondered if it was safe to stand where she was - at the entrance to the airport. A reasonable question for someone in a new circumstance surrounded by people she didn't know and had no idea how to 'read' (and who had already pestered her somewhat more than necessary with offers of rides). We assured her it was, and went on our way. I considered waiting there with her until her ride showed up, but that seemed a little more than was necessary, and my ride had a child who was going to a party, so couldn't wait on almost surely frivolous concerns.
in Paris
A short wait in Paris - just over three hours - which is unfortunate. My original schedule had me in the Paris airport for six hours - and then I'd have had time to take the subway into Paris and have breakfast on the Left Bank of the Seine, talk to the artists there, etc. But, with three hours, that isn't possible.
I did buy some expensive lemonade here - food and drink in Europe is double or more the price in Canada. It is said that Europeans spend 25% of their budget on food, whereas North Americans spend less than 15% on food. Certainly price is part of it - and, of course, most Europeans take their meals seriously and eat well almost every day.
Gotta go.
I did buy some expensive lemonade here - food and drink in Europe is double or more the price in Canada. It is said that Europeans spend 25% of their budget on food, whereas North Americans spend less than 15% on food. Certainly price is part of it - and, of course, most Europeans take their meals seriously and eat well almost every day.
Gotta go.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
2010 to Africa - Day one
The beginning. One month from now I'll be back. What are my hopes for the month?
1. Get the work done that is paying for the travel - three reviews of office and financial procedures for MCC - in Burkina Faso, Nigeria and Congo.
2. Visit the orphanage in Congo, solve some problems there, build relationship,...
3. Re-visit Eastern Congo, where I spent a week two years ago - to follow up on the demobilization of militia procedures and results.
That's it. Simple.
1. Get the work done that is paying for the travel - three reviews of office and financial procedures for MCC - in Burkina Faso, Nigeria and Congo.
2. Visit the orphanage in Congo, solve some problems there, build relationship,...
3. Re-visit Eastern Congo, where I spent a week two years ago - to follow up on the demobilization of militia procedures and results.
That's it. Simple.
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