Our guest house is "basic" - everyone told us it would be.
My room is on the ground floor. I remember my personal safety training; ground floors are to be avoided, but i dont like to make a fuss. Actually we were shown the upstairs rooms but they arent any more pleasant, and they are likely to be hotter than those downstairs, and besides i getting used to this place already, i feel quite safe (though i do understand that there is a guard living just outside our guesthouse)
My room is about 10'square. it has a hat-stand, a chair, a small square table, 3 office filing cabinets (which i presume are wardrobes) and a single bed. What more am i going to want?
The offices have internet so we quickly make for that. These are pretty good offices by comparison and i can see us spending most of our time here - the guard will let us in and out whenever we want.
Dinner tonight was made for us by Isa. There is another chap staying in the building with us. He's Sudanese and an expert in miro-finance. we sat togther and ate vegetably, meaty things. I will try to find the names of some of these. Ive given up on worrying about the cleanliness. I'll continue to only drink bottled water, but i dont have much choice on what im given to eat. Its delicious, so i shall be grateful and hope for the best. I had a guava and a banana as well. Kasalla is famous for its grapefruit, oranges and bananas, so i hope to get a good filling of vitamin C..... i just hope i get a good nights sleep
Friday, 11 April 2008
The Sudan - 23
The sweat is running down my back into the crease of my bum - this is hot hot hot weather. Even the welcome breeze feels like your sitting in front of a hairdryer... and they tell me this is not as hot as this time last year.
The Journey from Khartoum to Kassala took 9 hours, including stopping for breakfast, prayers and checkpoints, and right now i think the exhaustion is probably acting as a useful numbing of the senses; If i had my full faculties right now i might well look around me and want to get the heck out of here.
As we left the metropolis that is Khartoum it becomes clear that there isnt much going on outside of it, the commercial buildings turn into industrial buildings, the industrial buildings into workshops and huts, and then nothing - absolutely nothing. Just grey dust - the only thing that brightens the place up is the millions of brightly coloured plastic bags that have been blown into the dry spikey bushes that edge the road - in a way its quite a beautiful sight in the sunshine. This place is flat - and i mean flat - you can see for miles in all directions, the road is straight, and if it werent for the endless convoys of double articulated trucks carrying bales of cotton, you would be able to see there the road disappears to its vanishing point.
Every now and then you come to a small community of huts and tarpulins - pots are drying in the sun along side skinned goats hanging from hooks. There appears to be two sort of goats around here; one, the normal sort of goaty looking thing, and the other black with a shaggy coat , a curled up tuffty tail and furry legs that make them look like theyre wearing flared trousers - in goat-terms, they really are quite cute.
We press on, our driver not speaking English, but clearly knowing the roads and avoiding most potholes - I swear we had all wheels off the ground when a bump took us all by suprise. Where a bit of road was in particular poor repair, a young man would stand beside it would stand as you approached and point at the hazard (was he paid to do that? - and how did he get there to do the job? we were in the middle of nowhere) Every now and then you would see a goat herder out in the dust leading a bunch of manky looking goats, the image is as standard as the images you see on tv or in oxfam adverts, but you had to beg the question, where on earth has he come from and where in hell is he going?
The land in fact is agricultural land, and whilst you cant see it now it is sectioned off into workable fields, but this is the dry season and the ground is dry and cracked. Come July the "rainy season" will be here and people will be working in the fields. If its a particularly heavy rainy season then the flat land will flood and the thin top layer of soil will be washed off the heavy clay subsoil. This place invented the expression "famine or fast"
Breakfast is typically big. we pull in at a truck stop. Truck stop food has to be good otherwise truckers wont come back. We are given half a roasted chicken each, two bread loaves each, a bowl of Fuul and a bowl of fried blue-nile fish. You eat with your hands and you have to hope that the washing water is better than the grime on your hands. there is a water machine with half pint mug under the tap - people all drink from the same mug as they stand at the machine (fortunately there is some bottled water, and some cadbury chocolate if you want) - Water in Sudan is a touchy subject, there are people at war over water. if you want to piss off your neighboring tribe, you put a snipers bullet through thier delivery tanker. In some places kids cant be educated because they are required to do the daily 4 hour trip to collect a bucket of water for the family. There are places that wont serve you water unless you are buying a cup of coffee or tea. Fortunately we have water where we are, and needless to say i dont eat everything, partly out of concern for hygiene and partly out of consideration of the next 5 hours cramped in the back of our toyota landcruiser. We are ust about to pull out of the truckstop when our host suggests tea, he orders his driver to stop and get tea. We remain in the car while the driver dutifully goes and gets us each a glass of minty tea, and we sit in the air-conditioned car drinking it. In all our stops we never once switch off the engine - presumably to keep the aircon running. I worry about the emissions, and the cost of the fuel, but at about half a US dollar per liter, i dont think they really care about that.
At most checkpoints we get a simple wave through. Our car has our agency logos on the doors and we are respected and welcomed (unlike, according to Wikipedia, the UN). Checkpoints are a funny affair, often maned by a couple of youths in civi clothing standing under a makeshift shade supported by a couple of truck tyres. As we enter Kassala state we are asked for our travel documents and copies of passport and visa. Theres a lot of negotiating going on, and they take several of our pre-printed copies. Lord knows where they put the things as we leave. It was only a couple of years ago that foreigners weren't allowed into Kassala, and even Sudanese were curfewed, so maybe things arent so bad
As we travel onwards we see an increasing number of little settlements. Near Khartoum, the buildings are flat-topped, cube-like mud dwellings, nearer Kassala they are round mud Yurt type things with grass roofs. And scattered in between are the nomad dwellings of skins and tarpaulins. Kids are playing with a ball in the dusty expanse, a father squats laughing as he bathes 3 little children, women are wandering around with things on their heads - every one appears busy and happy (?)
It prayer time and so we pull over by a mosque - when all the land is so dry and hard, everywhere becomes drivable and so its difficult to see how the area is organised. there is the mosque, some huts selling stuff, some shipping containers, some odd brick built builds, and a petrol station. It appears that no-one else thinks it odd when a man pulls onto the petrol forecourt on a donkey with a rickety cart in tow. When the donkey over-shoots the pump by a few feet, the man reverses it to the right position, dismounts, walks round to the back and begins to pump fuel into the tank of his donkey-drawn cart. It was the strangest of sights. I suspect he was collecting some fuel for his smoke belching Lister or Cummings stationary engine somewhere.
We waited under the shade of a netting, enjoying the opportunity to stretch our legs while our host and his driver went to pray. Today is Friday. Holiday. So prayers are a bit more elaborate and as watch hundreds(?) of men flock to the mosque (taking a pee on the way and washing their hands and feet with water from little plastic bottles, we were deafened by the mosque loud-speaker on one side and the power generator on the other.
The railway here is in disrepair (though they do run goods along the single track apparently, and despite Kassala having its own little-used airport, we see a fleet of Dutch bi-planes ready for spraying cotton crops. I wonder why we dont see things like microlights - they would certainly be a quicker way to get around here and there is an awful lot of take-off and landing space. I wonder if i should be concerned as we pass a little community of mud huts and two army tanks - i couldnt see any identification on them so presumed that the owners were either collectors or rebels
Everything is remote. Villages are remote. People are remote. You can drive for an hour before finding someone at the roadside alone sitting under a bush. How did he get there? and more importantly, why? Everything that moves has a plume of fine dust trailing behind it.
Finally we arrive in the city of Kassala. It appears to be quite a pleasant place. We are driven to our guest house and office for the week (which is opposite).
This is now my home for 5 days
The Journey from Khartoum to Kassala took 9 hours, including stopping for breakfast, prayers and checkpoints, and right now i think the exhaustion is probably acting as a useful numbing of the senses; If i had my full faculties right now i might well look around me and want to get the heck out of here.
As we left the metropolis that is Khartoum it becomes clear that there isnt much going on outside of it, the commercial buildings turn into industrial buildings, the industrial buildings into workshops and huts, and then nothing - absolutely nothing. Just grey dust - the only thing that brightens the place up is the millions of brightly coloured plastic bags that have been blown into the dry spikey bushes that edge the road - in a way its quite a beautiful sight in the sunshine. This place is flat - and i mean flat - you can see for miles in all directions, the road is straight, and if it werent for the endless convoys of double articulated trucks carrying bales of cotton, you would be able to see there the road disappears to its vanishing point.
Every now and then you come to a small community of huts and tarpulins - pots are drying in the sun along side skinned goats hanging from hooks. There appears to be two sort of goats around here; one, the normal sort of goaty looking thing, and the other black with a shaggy coat , a curled up tuffty tail and furry legs that make them look like theyre wearing flared trousers - in goat-terms, they really are quite cute.
We press on, our driver not speaking English, but clearly knowing the roads and avoiding most potholes - I swear we had all wheels off the ground when a bump took us all by suprise. Where a bit of road was in particular poor repair, a young man would stand beside it would stand as you approached and point at the hazard (was he paid to do that? - and how did he get there to do the job? we were in the middle of nowhere) Every now and then you would see a goat herder out in the dust leading a bunch of manky looking goats, the image is as standard as the images you see on tv or in oxfam adverts, but you had to beg the question, where on earth has he come from and where in hell is he going?
The land in fact is agricultural land, and whilst you cant see it now it is sectioned off into workable fields, but this is the dry season and the ground is dry and cracked. Come July the "rainy season" will be here and people will be working in the fields. If its a particularly heavy rainy season then the flat land will flood and the thin top layer of soil will be washed off the heavy clay subsoil. This place invented the expression "famine or fast"
Breakfast is typically big. we pull in at a truck stop. Truck stop food has to be good otherwise truckers wont come back. We are given half a roasted chicken each, two bread loaves each, a bowl of Fuul and a bowl of fried blue-nile fish. You eat with your hands and you have to hope that the washing water is better than the grime on your hands. there is a water machine with half pint mug under the tap - people all drink from the same mug as they stand at the machine (fortunately there is some bottled water, and some cadbury chocolate if you want) - Water in Sudan is a touchy subject, there are people at war over water. if you want to piss off your neighboring tribe, you put a snipers bullet through thier delivery tanker. In some places kids cant be educated because they are required to do the daily 4 hour trip to collect a bucket of water for the family. There are places that wont serve you water unless you are buying a cup of coffee or tea. Fortunately we have water where we are, and needless to say i dont eat everything, partly out of concern for hygiene and partly out of consideration of the next 5 hours cramped in the back of our toyota landcruiser. We are ust about to pull out of the truckstop when our host suggests tea, he orders his driver to stop and get tea. We remain in the car while the driver dutifully goes and gets us each a glass of minty tea, and we sit in the air-conditioned car drinking it. In all our stops we never once switch off the engine - presumably to keep the aircon running. I worry about the emissions, and the cost of the fuel, but at about half a US dollar per liter, i dont think they really care about that.
At most checkpoints we get a simple wave through. Our car has our agency logos on the doors and we are respected and welcomed (unlike, according to Wikipedia, the UN). Checkpoints are a funny affair, often maned by a couple of youths in civi clothing standing under a makeshift shade supported by a couple of truck tyres. As we enter Kassala state we are asked for our travel documents and copies of passport and visa. Theres a lot of negotiating going on, and they take several of our pre-printed copies. Lord knows where they put the things as we leave. It was only a couple of years ago that foreigners weren't allowed into Kassala, and even Sudanese were curfewed, so maybe things arent so bad
As we travel onwards we see an increasing number of little settlements. Near Khartoum, the buildings are flat-topped, cube-like mud dwellings, nearer Kassala they are round mud Yurt type things with grass roofs. And scattered in between are the nomad dwellings of skins and tarpaulins. Kids are playing with a ball in the dusty expanse, a father squats laughing as he bathes 3 little children, women are wandering around with things on their heads - every one appears busy and happy (?)
It prayer time and so we pull over by a mosque - when all the land is so dry and hard, everywhere becomes drivable and so its difficult to see how the area is organised. there is the mosque, some huts selling stuff, some shipping containers, some odd brick built builds, and a petrol station. It appears that no-one else thinks it odd when a man pulls onto the petrol forecourt on a donkey with a rickety cart in tow. When the donkey over-shoots the pump by a few feet, the man reverses it to the right position, dismounts, walks round to the back and begins to pump fuel into the tank of his donkey-drawn cart. It was the strangest of sights. I suspect he was collecting some fuel for his smoke belching Lister or Cummings stationary engine somewhere.
We waited under the shade of a netting, enjoying the opportunity to stretch our legs while our host and his driver went to pray. Today is Friday. Holiday. So prayers are a bit more elaborate and as watch hundreds(?) of men flock to the mosque (taking a pee on the way and washing their hands and feet with water from little plastic bottles, we were deafened by the mosque loud-speaker on one side and the power generator on the other.
The railway here is in disrepair (though they do run goods along the single track apparently, and despite Kassala having its own little-used airport, we see a fleet of Dutch bi-planes ready for spraying cotton crops. I wonder why we dont see things like microlights - they would certainly be a quicker way to get around here and there is an awful lot of take-off and landing space. I wonder if i should be concerned as we pass a little community of mud huts and two army tanks - i couldnt see any identification on them so presumed that the owners were either collectors or rebels
Everything is remote. Villages are remote. People are remote. You can drive for an hour before finding someone at the roadside alone sitting under a bush. How did he get there? and more importantly, why? Everything that moves has a plume of fine dust trailing behind it.
Finally we arrive in the city of Kassala. It appears to be quite a pleasant place. We are driven to our guest house and office for the week (which is opposite).
This is now my home for 5 days
Thursday, 10 April 2008
The Sudan - 22
9 days ago I was worrying about coming to this foreign land that i only knew of as troubled through news bulletins on the TV. And i reckon it only took about 5 days to settle in and make my hotel room "home". I rather like it here now, which is why my anxiousness has returned once more as i prepare to leave the now "comfort" of my once "grubby" hotel in Khartoum for the second stage of my asignment. Early tomorrow morning i set off with my colleague from India to Kassala - 8 hours drive due east from Khartoum - on the borders with Ethiopia. And i kind of wished i hadn't sat at dinner tonight with the crazy Australian development worker and listened to his stories of Kassala. I never thought i'd be getting homesick pangs for Khartoum
Our 5 day workshop on strategy building for project work in the eradication of rural poverty in Sudan came to an end today. It was a last minute sprint but we got there. It may be choppy out at sea sometimes on our journey but I always bring the boat into harbor in the end.
It was a great relief and typically a bit deflating once it was all over.
We had some official (I loose track of who all these people are) come and close the event for us and give out certificates of attendance. As "workshop facilitator" i was one of the signees of the certificates. They had printed my name in customary Arabic - and i shall forever now be known a Timothy Corben.
Every one appeared happy with the process and output of the workshop, and i had many invites to go and visit various projects... I'll let them know after ive done Kassala
As ive already mentioned, I haven't had a need for any cash yet and so my bundle of 50 dollar bills have remained in Georges safe (which incidentally stands aside a large picture frame containing 100 smaller works of art and signed by various world artists - it was created and auctioned to raise money for LiveAid and was donated by UNICEF to George and his hotel in recognition of thier contribution to the efforts when LiveAid was sending relief out here. Apparently Bob Geldof stayed here once) So i had to go to George tonight to settle my bill here and change some cash to pay for my accommodation next week;
"oh you dont need to pay now, pay when you return from Kassala next week" (im staying here the night before flying home) "you dont want to be carrying money around with you, change what you need and leave the rest here with us"
Im starting to understand things here - George sorts out everything, no need to question, just trust him. I reckoned i'd need $400 for next week and asked him to change it for me. As he counted out my Sudanese pounds, i simply rewrote the remaining dollar amount on the outside of my envelope and popped it back in his safe. I didnt bother to recount the currency that he handed me - not because it was a half-inch thick wad, but simply because you can trust George. He handed me my passport and the 6 photocopies of my visa and official travel papers that he'd prepared for me (just how many checkpoints have we got to cross to get to this place?). I calmly handed George my wallet complete with my credit cards, he slipped it in the safe and no-one (else) thought this was an unusual scene.
Our 5 day workshop on strategy building for project work in the eradication of rural poverty in Sudan came to an end today. It was a last minute sprint but we got there. It may be choppy out at sea sometimes on our journey but I always bring the boat into harbor in the end.
It was a great relief and typically a bit deflating once it was all over.
We had some official (I loose track of who all these people are) come and close the event for us and give out certificates of attendance. As "workshop facilitator" i was one of the signees of the certificates. They had printed my name in customary Arabic - and i shall forever now be known a Timothy Corben.
Every one appeared happy with the process and output of the workshop, and i had many invites to go and visit various projects... I'll let them know after ive done Kassala
As ive already mentioned, I haven't had a need for any cash yet and so my bundle of 50 dollar bills have remained in Georges safe (which incidentally stands aside a large picture frame containing 100 smaller works of art and signed by various world artists - it was created and auctioned to raise money for LiveAid and was donated by UNICEF to George and his hotel in recognition of thier contribution to the efforts when LiveAid was sending relief out here. Apparently Bob Geldof stayed here once) So i had to go to George tonight to settle my bill here and change some cash to pay for my accommodation next week;
"oh you dont need to pay now, pay when you return from Kassala next week" (im staying here the night before flying home) "you dont want to be carrying money around with you, change what you need and leave the rest here with us"
Im starting to understand things here - George sorts out everything, no need to question, just trust him. I reckoned i'd need $400 for next week and asked him to change it for me. As he counted out my Sudanese pounds, i simply rewrote the remaining dollar amount on the outside of my envelope and popped it back in his safe. I didnt bother to recount the currency that he handed me - not because it was a half-inch thick wad, but simply because you can trust George. He handed me my passport and the 6 photocopies of my visa and official travel papers that he'd prepared for me (just how many checkpoints have we got to cross to get to this place?). I calmly handed George my wallet complete with my credit cards, he slipped it in the safe and no-one (else) thought this was an unusual scene.
Wednesday, 9 April 2008
The Sudan - 21
During these sorts of workshops we often try to break the large group up into smaller break out groups to do various bits of work. Its good for a change in energy to keep mixing the groups up and working with different people.
I like to have a little fun while creating the groups. For instance i might ask people to line themselves up in order of their height, and then i will count them off into their groups. It causes a little bit of chaos and some laughter.
Another good way is to ask the people to sort themselves into order of their birth date (not year), so imagine my surprise, and slight embarrassment when i gave our delegates the instruction to line up by order of their birth date... and everyone burst out laughing and remained seated. This time i was the one in chaos and confusion.
It turns out that they all had the same birthday! its true - they were all "January Babies".
Birth records are a relatively new concept in Sudan (perhaps Africa) - and no one in our workshop actually knows when they were born (they probably don't even know how old they are) - and so everyone of a certain age and more, simply celebrates their birthday on January 1st.
I like to have a little fun while creating the groups. For instance i might ask people to line themselves up in order of their height, and then i will count them off into their groups. It causes a little bit of chaos and some laughter.
Another good way is to ask the people to sort themselves into order of their birth date (not year), so imagine my surprise, and slight embarrassment when i gave our delegates the instruction to line up by order of their birth date... and everyone burst out laughing and remained seated. This time i was the one in chaos and confusion.
It turns out that they all had the same birthday! its true - they were all "January Babies".
Birth records are a relatively new concept in Sudan (perhaps Africa) - and no one in our workshop actually knows when they were born (they probably don't even know how old they are) - and so everyone of a certain age and more, simply celebrates their birthday on January 1st.
The Sudan - 20
Despite not getting to sleep last night till 2am after writing up 3 days worth of facilitator notes, i was determined to get up at 6am to go for a walk with 2 of my colleagues. Other than from through the darkened windows of a car, this was my first sight of the city. I think im in north Khartoum and i dont know what i saw on my walk was representative of the city as a whole, but from what i saw its a scruffy place.
The early morning breeze was wonderful. I couldn't sense a temperature difference from indoors and outdoors so i guessed it was about 23 degrees (thats what the aircon is set to). The wind was up but not many people. We walked along the River Nile. The blue Nile is actually a dirty grey and the bit i saw must have been a good 1/4 mile wide, but I was nevertheless impressed to be walking along the Nile. Paved pavements exist in Khartoum, but they are unwalkable. Everywhere is covered in heaps of dirt and rubble. At first sight you would think that there had been a war here - theres an awful lot of rubble and holes in the ground - after a while you become aware that the heaps of rubble are actually dirty! the dust and the grim that lays on the rubble suggests that those heaps have been there for an awful long. so we walked mostly in the road like everyone else. I commented on how much crap was about - my khartoum-experienced freind reckoned this was "a thousand percent improvement" from a few years ago... Crikey there wasnt much more possible space for any more mess.
Washing cars appears to be a popular early morning activity; in this very dusty city, a clean car is a thing of respect and status. Fleets of police cars were getting special treatment - tyres 'n' all, while the policemen paraded in the police compound.
I was intrigued by the men sitting on small stools on a street corner, each with a little thin briefcase on his lap. They were "writers" and offered their services to anyone who needed something written but weren't capable of doing it themselves. If you had a form to fill in (and believe me in Sudan there are a lot of forms to fill in) you would go to one of these chaps on the street corner and he would do it for you - I wondered how much they would charge for doing my tax return?
A little further along the road was another odd collection of men squatting in the dusty street. There were about 20 of them evenly spaced over the space of a small parking lot. Each had a small stake pegged into the ground to which was clamped a hand tool; a hacksaw, an adjustable spanner, a panel saw. It looked like a dusty dada art collection. Turns out that these were handy men advertising their availability - apparently not necessarily their skill, but certainly thier capacity to have a go. Here, owning a hacksaw is as good as having your City and Guilds certificate.
We were honored to have a presentation this morning by another minister from another ministry. In the UK we joke about presentations boring audiences through "death by powerpoint". Well never again will i mock some poor salesman doing his best to tell me the benefits of his wears. This official turned up with a 53 slide presentation ..... in Arabic! Even the novelty of seeing a bullet point build from the left wore off after the first 10 slides. I wondered if the experience of the nonsensical noise that i was hearing was the same experience for anyone in the audience when i stand up and talk to them in English.
I soon became distracted and looking around this auditorium - equipped with desk mics for each seat like a G8 council meeting, I wondered why they hadnt gone the extra few dollars and bought a new projector stand - just 3 feet right infront the of the minister, a dusty old LCD projector stood on a knackered and wobbly chipboard shelf unit. It wasnt even fit to be condsidered for a carboot sale, you wouldnt have even bothered taking it there. The projector screen wasnt much better. It looked like it was once a portable one with a fold up stand, but now it hung by its screen pullout handle on a piece of string attached to the curtain rail. It is all just "good enough".
The minister eventually finished and Q&A began in Arabic - fortunately my friend Mohamed facilitated this bit. It turns out that the audience liked what he had to say and his message was very relevant to our workshop. I smiled to myself as he offered the presentation to anyone who wanted it, "Just come with your flash drive" he announced - so this is how the computer viruses are spread. Every computer that you can get access to here is riddled with viruses.
So we are one the final leg now of part one of our mission. Tomorrow is our last day, and accounting for official addresses and what not, weve only got another 3 hours left to get about 6 hours work done, which is why, our planning meeting once again dragged on for far too long again
The early morning breeze was wonderful. I couldn't sense a temperature difference from indoors and outdoors so i guessed it was about 23 degrees (thats what the aircon is set to). The wind was up but not many people. We walked along the River Nile. The blue Nile is actually a dirty grey and the bit i saw must have been a good 1/4 mile wide, but I was nevertheless impressed to be walking along the Nile. Paved pavements exist in Khartoum, but they are unwalkable. Everywhere is covered in heaps of dirt and rubble. At first sight you would think that there had been a war here - theres an awful lot of rubble and holes in the ground - after a while you become aware that the heaps of rubble are actually dirty! the dust and the grim that lays on the rubble suggests that those heaps have been there for an awful long. so we walked mostly in the road like everyone else. I commented on how much crap was about - my khartoum-experienced freind reckoned this was "a thousand percent improvement" from a few years ago... Crikey there wasnt much more possible space for any more mess.
Washing cars appears to be a popular early morning activity; in this very dusty city, a clean car is a thing of respect and status. Fleets of police cars were getting special treatment - tyres 'n' all, while the policemen paraded in the police compound.
I was intrigued by the men sitting on small stools on a street corner, each with a little thin briefcase on his lap. They were "writers" and offered their services to anyone who needed something written but weren't capable of doing it themselves. If you had a form to fill in (and believe me in Sudan there are a lot of forms to fill in) you would go to one of these chaps on the street corner and he would do it for you - I wondered how much they would charge for doing my tax return?
A little further along the road was another odd collection of men squatting in the dusty street. There were about 20 of them evenly spaced over the space of a small parking lot. Each had a small stake pegged into the ground to which was clamped a hand tool; a hacksaw, an adjustable spanner, a panel saw. It looked like a dusty dada art collection. Turns out that these were handy men advertising their availability - apparently not necessarily their skill, but certainly thier capacity to have a go. Here, owning a hacksaw is as good as having your City and Guilds certificate.
We were honored to have a presentation this morning by another minister from another ministry. In the UK we joke about presentations boring audiences through "death by powerpoint". Well never again will i mock some poor salesman doing his best to tell me the benefits of his wears. This official turned up with a 53 slide presentation ..... in Arabic! Even the novelty of seeing a bullet point build from the left wore off after the first 10 slides. I wondered if the experience of the nonsensical noise that i was hearing was the same experience for anyone in the audience when i stand up and talk to them in English.
I soon became distracted and looking around this auditorium - equipped with desk mics for each seat like a G8 council meeting, I wondered why they hadnt gone the extra few dollars and bought a new projector stand - just 3 feet right infront the of the minister, a dusty old LCD projector stood on a knackered and wobbly chipboard shelf unit. It wasnt even fit to be condsidered for a carboot sale, you wouldnt have even bothered taking it there. The projector screen wasnt much better. It looked like it was once a portable one with a fold up stand, but now it hung by its screen pullout handle on a piece of string attached to the curtain rail. It is all just "good enough".
The minister eventually finished and Q&A began in Arabic - fortunately my friend Mohamed facilitated this bit. It turns out that the audience liked what he had to say and his message was very relevant to our workshop. I smiled to myself as he offered the presentation to anyone who wanted it, "Just come with your flash drive" he announced - so this is how the computer viruses are spread. Every computer that you can get access to here is riddled with viruses.
So we are one the final leg now of part one of our mission. Tomorrow is our last day, and accounting for official addresses and what not, weve only got another 3 hours left to get about 6 hours work done, which is why, our planning meeting once again dragged on for far too long again
Tuesday, 8 April 2008
The Sudan - 18
One of the tools we use when trying to drill into a problem is "the ladder of abstraction" - its a very simple and effective tool.
Very simply, you take a challenge and repeatedly ask yourself two questions; "whats stopping you achieving this?" (the responses can help identify root causes and more concrete problems to tackle). The second question is "Why do you want to achieve this?" (and the responses can give you a higher meaning to your challenge and sometimes a new perspective on the issue, which can be useful when you are a little foggy on purpose)
When i came to teach this tool today, I made the decision to teach only half of it. We kept all our questioning to "whats stopping you from achieving this?" When working on issues like suppling clean drinking water during drought season, it kinda seems a bit of a silly question to ask "why?"
Very simply, you take a challenge and repeatedly ask yourself two questions; "whats stopping you achieving this?" (the responses can help identify root causes and more concrete problems to tackle). The second question is "Why do you want to achieve this?" (and the responses can give you a higher meaning to your challenge and sometimes a new perspective on the issue, which can be useful when you are a little foggy on purpose)
When i came to teach this tool today, I made the decision to teach only half of it. We kept all our questioning to "whats stopping you from achieving this?" When working on issues like suppling clean drinking water during drought season, it kinda seems a bit of a silly question to ask "why?"
The Sudan - 19
We hold our planning and review meetings in the hotel lobby. This really is a very cool place. Its a bit tatty and maybe a little stark, certainly everything is "good enough". But its a place for people. During our meetings (and they can drag on a bit) people are coming and going, people are on the hotel computers, people are holding different meetings on the mix of other settees and office chairs. People checking in and people checking out - every one with a mysterious story to tell. People can smoke freely here and the fans and aircon compete for air to blow and Aljazeera plays non-stop on the TV. I could imagine that this is what it might have felt for Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca.
Around our little coffee table with the dusty plastic flowers our meeting consists of 7 people, not one from the same country - hows that for diversity?
George the hotel owner bustles over and offers to get us all some lime water - its very refreshing. Later if we are still there he will bring us a little mars bar each because " you look like you're all working very hard". If you want a 2 litre bottle of cold water (and you drink a lot of it here) George will personally go and get it for you if he can, if not he will get one of his local staff to run off for you.
So far i havent spent a penny - ive eaten, partaken of the offer of several tubs of icecream that george walks around with on a tray at about 9pm most evenings. Ive had my laundry done. I have water and juice as and when i want it. And when George hears the lobby printer churning out my emails and agendas, he pops out of the office to personally load more paper
"How much is it to print here?"
"Oh dont worry about that, its free to guests!"
- and i have spent a penny yet. Mind you George does have 2 grand of mine in his safe - he knows im not going anywhere without it and i guess at some stage there will be a bill to settle
So we did the review of todays workshop and i hear that not only are some of the delegates telling their bosses about the Creative Problem Solving stuff that I presented yesterday, but their kids too. Feedback cant get much better than that.
Around our little coffee table with the dusty plastic flowers our meeting consists of 7 people, not one from the same country - hows that for diversity?
George the hotel owner bustles over and offers to get us all some lime water - its very refreshing. Later if we are still there he will bring us a little mars bar each because " you look like you're all working very hard". If you want a 2 litre bottle of cold water (and you drink a lot of it here) George will personally go and get it for you if he can, if not he will get one of his local staff to run off for you.
So far i havent spent a penny - ive eaten, partaken of the offer of several tubs of icecream that george walks around with on a tray at about 9pm most evenings. Ive had my laundry done. I have water and juice as and when i want it. And when George hears the lobby printer churning out my emails and agendas, he pops out of the office to personally load more paper
"How much is it to print here?"
"Oh dont worry about that, its free to guests!"
- and i have spent a penny yet. Mind you George does have 2 grand of mine in his safe - he knows im not going anywhere without it and i guess at some stage there will be a bill to settle
So we did the review of todays workshop and i hear that not only are some of the delegates telling their bosses about the Creative Problem Solving stuff that I presented yesterday, but their kids too. Feedback cant get much better than that.
The Sudan - 18
Ive got no idea what they are talking about.
I hope im driving them in the right direction.
The Sudan - 17
Well the little bird that was flying round our workshop appears to have got out somehow, but hes been replaced with an 8" lizard scurrying around the ceiling. Thank heavens for their little sticky feet - id be mortified if that fella fell on me.
Our car got stopped again by the police on way to the venue this morning. This time it felt a little more agitated. We had a different driver - a bit less cool than our usual driver Jamal, and the policeman was a bit more scruffy in his tatty blue uniform than the crisp white uniformed policeman the other day. I think the blue boys are traffic cops. There was a lot of shouting and arguing through the opened drivers window until the driver was ordered out and marched off to a waiting police car. In the confusion, my colleague who speaks arabic, explained that we were running late for a "meeting with the minister of finance" (which is in part true, but he wasnt actually attending the meeting himself today) - within minutes we were back on our way! Ah the life of diplomatic immunity! Turns out the the fracas was over the fact that our driver had been on his mobile phone. The police werent bothered about the act but the fact that in the processes of being on his phone he was delaying the traffic!
Today was as predictable as every other 5 day workshop ive ever run. Today we hit the low point. It always comes. Its the point when the delegates and facilitators and stakeholders (who are all starting to get a bit tired - thinking is tough work) start to realise that the end of the event is in sight and we have got so many loose ends that seem impossible to tie up. The agenda slips as people get into more heated debate, and frustrations rise as it appears to different parties that we might be going in wrong directions. Fortunately experience comforts me - its a bit like going to the dentist - you know that its going to hurt for a while, but you also know its going to be alright in the end.
Its interesting just how much stickier blu-tac is here that it is in England. you almost have to apply it with a trowel here, it kind of drips. in the uk i often have to kneed blu-tac to create some warmth and stickiness - not so here, the heat softens everything. There must be a product opportunity for blu-tac to exploit in this phenominum. As an aside i also notice that the gunk that i put in my hair (we may be helping the starving millions, but one has still got to look good!) is also much easier to apply
Starving, poverty stricken people - its a crying shame, and yet the solution appears to be so complex. Is it just about money? Could money solve starvation? I posed the question - what if David Beckham were to donate one million pounds a year to a village of 500 people (he could easily afford it and 500 people might be saved - "Beckham Village where life is not a game" - would that solve starvation and poverty for that community? A response to this that made me laugh was that the first thing that everyone would do would be to by a plane ticket and go and live in Paris! Good point - too much money would just offset the problem to somewhere else. But if managed properly could cash injection cure poverty? could it educate people - im sure it could fund a solar powered internet hub and teaching facilities. Could it create a sustainable wealth providing employment? Agriculture appears difficult, supply and demand is all topsy turvy - food prices are rising and yet the market for the crops they grow is dropping. But what about creating say,a village call center? why couldnt Beckham village build a call center for services to the rest of the world? this might help the people fund the import of water and staple foods. Of course on its own, Beckham Village would have to fortress itself against the bandits and beggers (and maybe even Governments) who would be constantly invading to have some of those precious goods.... but what if all our developed-World celebrity superstars sponsored a village of their own. We could have "Jagger Town", "Dolce&Gabbana village" and "P Diddy Hamlets" Why we might even get a "Bono Bogs" and "Sting city". Could it work?
Arrgh! did i take my Malaria tablet yesterday??
Our car got stopped again by the police on way to the venue this morning. This time it felt a little more agitated. We had a different driver - a bit less cool than our usual driver Jamal, and the policeman was a bit more scruffy in his tatty blue uniform than the crisp white uniformed policeman the other day. I think the blue boys are traffic cops. There was a lot of shouting and arguing through the opened drivers window until the driver was ordered out and marched off to a waiting police car. In the confusion, my colleague who speaks arabic, explained that we were running late for a "meeting with the minister of finance" (which is in part true, but he wasnt actually attending the meeting himself today) - within minutes we were back on our way! Ah the life of diplomatic immunity! Turns out the the fracas was over the fact that our driver had been on his mobile phone. The police werent bothered about the act but the fact that in the processes of being on his phone he was delaying the traffic!
Today was as predictable as every other 5 day workshop ive ever run. Today we hit the low point. It always comes. Its the point when the delegates and facilitators and stakeholders (who are all starting to get a bit tired - thinking is tough work) start to realise that the end of the event is in sight and we have got so many loose ends that seem impossible to tie up. The agenda slips as people get into more heated debate, and frustrations rise as it appears to different parties that we might be going in wrong directions. Fortunately experience comforts me - its a bit like going to the dentist - you know that its going to hurt for a while, but you also know its going to be alright in the end.
Its interesting just how much stickier blu-tac is here that it is in England. you almost have to apply it with a trowel here, it kind of drips. in the uk i often have to kneed blu-tac to create some warmth and stickiness - not so here, the heat softens everything. There must be a product opportunity for blu-tac to exploit in this phenominum. As an aside i also notice that the gunk that i put in my hair (we may be helping the starving millions, but one has still got to look good!) is also much easier to apply
Starving, poverty stricken people - its a crying shame, and yet the solution appears to be so complex. Is it just about money? Could money solve starvation? I posed the question - what if David Beckham were to donate one million pounds a year to a village of 500 people (he could easily afford it and 500 people might be saved - "Beckham Village where life is not a game" - would that solve starvation and poverty for that community? A response to this that made me laugh was that the first thing that everyone would do would be to by a plane ticket and go and live in Paris! Good point - too much money would just offset the problem to somewhere else. But if managed properly could cash injection cure poverty? could it educate people - im sure it could fund a solar powered internet hub and teaching facilities. Could it create a sustainable wealth providing employment? Agriculture appears difficult, supply and demand is all topsy turvy - food prices are rising and yet the market for the crops they grow is dropping. But what about creating say,a village call center? why couldnt Beckham village build a call center for services to the rest of the world? this might help the people fund the import of water and staple foods. Of course on its own, Beckham Village would have to fortress itself against the bandits and beggers (and maybe even Governments) who would be constantly invading to have some of those precious goods.... but what if all our developed-World celebrity superstars sponsored a village of their own. We could have "Jagger Town", "Dolce&Gabbana village" and "P Diddy Hamlets" Why we might even get a "Bono Bogs" and "Sting city". Could it work?
Arrgh! did i take my Malaria tablet yesterday??
Monday, 7 April 2008
The Sudan - 16
How long does it take for the strange to become familiar? I reckon about a week. Ive been racking my brains tonight for things to write about in this blog... i dont think ive seen or done anything unusual today. Of course this is nonsense because its only NOT unusual because ive become familiar with my surroundings and the topics of conversation and im starting to become oblivious to little details like the uniformed security man at the Bank of Sudan whose 3" embroidered security badge is held to his uniform by a single safety pin. And I dont find it odd now that we are talking with great interest on the fine details of the benefits of having more than one wife.
Oh i was a little excited to see one of our delegates in the most amazing pair of shoes. So intrigued I was, I had to stop him on the stairs to ask him about them. He was wearing a drab coloured lightweight safari suit which made his shoes look even more glamorous. At first I thought he was just into the kitsch scene, but on enquiry it turns out that they really were REAL tiger-skin shoes! they were brilliant - I could see why there would be a trade in this endangered animal skin - i'd love a pair. I asked him if it was legal to buy tiger products - he reckoned that you could hunt tiger if you had a license. That cant be true can it? Well his mate in the snake-skin shoes thought it was.
We've talked about a wide range of issues that effect the African rural poor. Topics that are so far removed from any topic of conversation i would have back home; not only because Im not poor, but because the forces of change on this country are so different to the forces of change in Europe. Climate change of course is high on the agenda here, but so also is war and divided states. We talk about energy, education, employment, agriculture, water, hygiene, medicine etc - all usually in the negative. But not once has anyone uttered the word HIV. HIV is a massive problem in Africa (and particularly southern africa) but for many reasons its a topic that appears to be taboo. HIV leads to trends in child rape (in the belief that sleeping with a virgin will cure it); displaced women (who are rejected by thier communities in the belief that it is the woman who has been sleeping around, never the husband); jail and torture (as HIV is believed to be an indicator of either a promiscuous woman, or a gay man - both punishable offences); communities of elderly people and young people - but no-one in between - theyre dead, and so the whole social fabric of such communities are crumbling (and in a world where the only capital you have is social capital, you cant afford for your community to crumble). In some areas, the massive campaigns to use condoms were rejected in the belief that this was a white mans attempt to stop black people producing more babies! HIV is a force of change that is going to have to be reckoned with, and yet no-one will talk about it. For one, talking about sex has religious complications, and for another it is still strongly associated with homosexuality and this also has religious complications.
If we cant talk about it, then maybe there is no hope
I facilitated various workshop elements today, but i also did a workshop section on Creativity and problem solving preferences. My planned 2.5 hours became crunched to 1.5 hours as the story telling activities over ran. We decided to press on regardless with the time that i had remaining. Now this never bothers me. I can wing this subject pretty well now and skip slides and activities to the important bits (actually my client remarked afterwards, that so impressed was he that he could see from now on that he could reduce my future contracts to deliver my work in half the time!)
It was clear that the people enjoyed the workshop despite my rush (i was concerned about talking too fast for people to understand - though remember, fast for me here would be relaxed in any other place) and I think the key learnings were transfered. However i wasnt absolutely happy with my delivery of the Foursight psychometric that i used. I think the participants were more than happy and understanding of the concept and the outcomes of their profiles, but i had to make a couple of necessary shortcuts. We used the paper based questionnaire as not everyone has access to the internet for the online version. Immediately i concerned that some people appeared to have a skew on their responses - had they not understood my instructions? did they still think they were being tested and needed to appear to be 'good' at problem solving? I had to let the people continue with the analysis of their profile, it would have been too complicated to explain why not. Or maybe their profiles were genuinely like this - This is certainly a culture that is different to my own - in fact it is often necessary to really labour the concept of 'deferment of judgement' in northern European organisations, but here it was accepted as if i was asking them to continue breathing - this is a society that is apparently very tolerant of different view points (though i find this difficult to reconcile with some of the political unrest)
Scoring of the Foursight questionnaire is usually a relatively simple process, but i was suprised at how complicated this was for a few people today. And drawing a neat graph between the points didnt appear to be as easy as i would imagine it to be. I had to make a quick decision - should i continue to instruct them to work out the necessary standard deviations so that they could identify their peak preferences? I made the right decision. Every one understood the concept, appeared happy with the curves of their profiles and lots of laughing and deep discussions followed as sharing thier new insights with each other they went off into the early evening 38 degrees.
And now im knackered
Oh i was a little excited to see one of our delegates in the most amazing pair of shoes. So intrigued I was, I had to stop him on the stairs to ask him about them. He was wearing a drab coloured lightweight safari suit which made his shoes look even more glamorous. At first I thought he was just into the kitsch scene, but on enquiry it turns out that they really were REAL tiger-skin shoes! they were brilliant - I could see why there would be a trade in this endangered animal skin - i'd love a pair. I asked him if it was legal to buy tiger products - he reckoned that you could hunt tiger if you had a license. That cant be true can it? Well his mate in the snake-skin shoes thought it was.
We've talked about a wide range of issues that effect the African rural poor. Topics that are so far removed from any topic of conversation i would have back home; not only because Im not poor, but because the forces of change on this country are so different to the forces of change in Europe. Climate change of course is high on the agenda here, but so also is war and divided states. We talk about energy, education, employment, agriculture, water, hygiene, medicine etc - all usually in the negative. But not once has anyone uttered the word HIV. HIV is a massive problem in Africa (and particularly southern africa) but for many reasons its a topic that appears to be taboo. HIV leads to trends in child rape (in the belief that sleeping with a virgin will cure it); displaced women (who are rejected by thier communities in the belief that it is the woman who has been sleeping around, never the husband); jail and torture (as HIV is believed to be an indicator of either a promiscuous woman, or a gay man - both punishable offences); communities of elderly people and young people - but no-one in between - theyre dead, and so the whole social fabric of such communities are crumbling (and in a world where the only capital you have is social capital, you cant afford for your community to crumble). In some areas, the massive campaigns to use condoms were rejected in the belief that this was a white mans attempt to stop black people producing more babies! HIV is a force of change that is going to have to be reckoned with, and yet no-one will talk about it. For one, talking about sex has religious complications, and for another it is still strongly associated with homosexuality and this also has religious complications.
If we cant talk about it, then maybe there is no hope
I facilitated various workshop elements today, but i also did a workshop section on Creativity and problem solving preferences. My planned 2.5 hours became crunched to 1.5 hours as the story telling activities over ran. We decided to press on regardless with the time that i had remaining. Now this never bothers me. I can wing this subject pretty well now and skip slides and activities to the important bits (actually my client remarked afterwards, that so impressed was he that he could see from now on that he could reduce my future contracts to deliver my work in half the time!)
It was clear that the people enjoyed the workshop despite my rush (i was concerned about talking too fast for people to understand - though remember, fast for me here would be relaxed in any other place) and I think the key learnings were transfered. However i wasnt absolutely happy with my delivery of the Foursight psychometric that i used. I think the participants were more than happy and understanding of the concept and the outcomes of their profiles, but i had to make a couple of necessary shortcuts. We used the paper based questionnaire as not everyone has access to the internet for the online version. Immediately i concerned that some people appeared to have a skew on their responses - had they not understood my instructions? did they still think they were being tested and needed to appear to be 'good' at problem solving? I had to let the people continue with the analysis of their profile, it would have been too complicated to explain why not. Or maybe their profiles were genuinely like this - This is certainly a culture that is different to my own - in fact it is often necessary to really labour the concept of 'deferment of judgement' in northern European organisations, but here it was accepted as if i was asking them to continue breathing - this is a society that is apparently very tolerant of different view points (though i find this difficult to reconcile with some of the political unrest)
Scoring of the Foursight questionnaire is usually a relatively simple process, but i was suprised at how complicated this was for a few people today. And drawing a neat graph between the points didnt appear to be as easy as i would imagine it to be. I had to make a quick decision - should i continue to instruct them to work out the necessary standard deviations so that they could identify their peak preferences? I made the right decision. Every one understood the concept, appeared happy with the curves of their profiles and lots of laughing and deep discussions followed as sharing thier new insights with each other they went off into the early evening 38 degrees.
And now im knackered
Sunday, 6 April 2008
The Sudan - 15
How many workshops, meetings, brainstorming sessions have you been in where a response to "what are our threats?" was "Landmines"? No nor have i... until now.
We started with prayers - a reading from the Koran and a reading from the bible. My toes were curling at the thought of it, but in actual fact it was a rather nice and respectful way to start proceedings. And the two "His Excellencies" graced us with their presences. One addressed the assembly in English and talked of the troubles of Sudan and the hope that we were part of the solution. The other spoke in Arabic and i have no idea what he was saying; which made me a little anxious as i was supposed to pick up after he'd finished - fortunately Fiaza did the transfer for me.
Some of our conversations today were in Arabic. Fortunately we had people who could translate back and forth, but the majority of the event was in English. Now i think i reletively sensitive to the listening and comprehension needs of people from other countries - i try to speak clearly and slowly and choose my words carefully, but today i had a couple of people ask me if i could speak a little slower. Have you ever tried to talk for a whole day at half speed? its painful. You would think that this would provide me with useful thinking time while my mouth slowly churned out the words, but no - it simply meant i was having a conversation with myself about how painful it was to talk so slowly.
There are about 40 people in the workshop - and about a 50/50 split male/female. Every one is very nice. Four of the men chose to wear ties (that truly is hardcore in this heat) everyone else is much more relaxed in thier dress. Me? today for the first time i felt a bit sweaty - is it my nerves? the running around? or is monsoon season approaching?
I discover a new challenge for the facilitator-in-sudan. You need twice as much masking tape as you might use in cooler climes. Every room here has 2 or 3 fans and aircon turned up to 11. not only does it make the room noisy, but it also turns it into a frikking wind tunnel - you cant hold the flipcharts and postit notes down without a lengthy strip of tape.
We dont take a break here, we take breakfast. At 11am - its as big as an evening meal! I didnt partake. I was offered what looked like a hamburger. I didnt want to offend so accepted, took a bite and discovered chicken inside - pinkish and a bit rubbery? Spit or swallow? I think its a bit rude not to swallow... so i did. I await the outcome.
All in all a successful day i think. people seemed pleased, client seems pleased (despite wanting to continue planning for tomorrow until 11.30 pm). Its always a good feeling to get day 1 under your belt
We started with prayers - a reading from the Koran and a reading from the bible. My toes were curling at the thought of it, but in actual fact it was a rather nice and respectful way to start proceedings. And the two "His Excellencies" graced us with their presences. One addressed the assembly in English and talked of the troubles of Sudan and the hope that we were part of the solution. The other spoke in Arabic and i have no idea what he was saying; which made me a little anxious as i was supposed to pick up after he'd finished - fortunately Fiaza did the transfer for me.
Some of our conversations today were in Arabic. Fortunately we had people who could translate back and forth, but the majority of the event was in English. Now i think i reletively sensitive to the listening and comprehension needs of people from other countries - i try to speak clearly and slowly and choose my words carefully, but today i had a couple of people ask me if i could speak a little slower. Have you ever tried to talk for a whole day at half speed? its painful. You would think that this would provide me with useful thinking time while my mouth slowly churned out the words, but no - it simply meant i was having a conversation with myself about how painful it was to talk so slowly.
There are about 40 people in the workshop - and about a 50/50 split male/female. Every one is very nice. Four of the men chose to wear ties (that truly is hardcore in this heat) everyone else is much more relaxed in thier dress. Me? today for the first time i felt a bit sweaty - is it my nerves? the running around? or is monsoon season approaching?
I discover a new challenge for the facilitator-in-sudan. You need twice as much masking tape as you might use in cooler climes. Every room here has 2 or 3 fans and aircon turned up to 11. not only does it make the room noisy, but it also turns it into a frikking wind tunnel - you cant hold the flipcharts and postit notes down without a lengthy strip of tape.
We dont take a break here, we take breakfast. At 11am - its as big as an evening meal! I didnt partake. I was offered what looked like a hamburger. I didnt want to offend so accepted, took a bite and discovered chicken inside - pinkish and a bit rubbery? Spit or swallow? I think its a bit rude not to swallow... so i did. I await the outcome.
All in all a successful day i think. people seemed pleased, client seems pleased (despite wanting to continue planning for tomorrow until 11.30 pm). Its always a good feeling to get day 1 under your belt
Saturday, 5 April 2008
The Sudan - 14
This is an amazing hotel. Ive been trying to find a way to describe my feelings about it and i cant quite put my finger on it. Its all about the people here, and if i were a comic writer and illustrator, this place would be the never ending source of inspiration.
Everybody who stays here or passes through here (there seems to be a lot of that) is larger than life and on the edge of it. These are renegade people on a dangerous mission of some kind - and in actuality many of them really are on a mission (there are many development agency people here)
Every underground comic book archetype is here in this hotel. they come and go at odd hours and interact with each other on a mysterious level. We have....
- the large fat English man in sandels with slicked back hair and a long thick bushy pirate like beard. Is he with the petite malaysian (?) lady, who flutters as he politely offers her a chair at his dinner table. He is clearly a wealthy but bent backstreet diamond dealer.
- the two chinese men - do they know each other? they seem to be together and yet distant. The dangerous one has a fu man chu beard, the other is so nondescript, hes virtually invisible. they are part of an international drug ring and close to the triads.
- the dark rugged and very mysterious man. His features are striking but ungiving of his origin. Is that a natural dark skin, or is he heavily tanned, or even just dirty - you could believe it of him. He speaks with no-one but his piercing eyes are always scanning around him. And how come he has a can of beer with his meals? Only he can get away with that here.
- The loud middle-aged, lean and round-shouldered Australian. Telling tales to anyone who will listen and some who wont about his escapades with terrorists, insurgents and militia. His stories are covering something that he doesnt want to reviel about himself - hes running away from something.
And all of these characters find refuge in this throwback hotel from the 50's. An outpost on the edge of war and crime zones. A haven run by a tall, smartly dressed greek man by the name of george - he knows everyone one of his guests and attends thier every need with a broad smile and sweeping calm. George will take care of your passport and documents, George will get you a sim card, George will change your dollars, George will arrange a driver.
And amongst all this sense of darkeness, i feel incredibly at ease. As if im living in a not-so-futuristic chapter of 2000ADs Robo-hunter
Everybody who stays here or passes through here (there seems to be a lot of that) is larger than life and on the edge of it. These are renegade people on a dangerous mission of some kind - and in actuality many of them really are on a mission (there are many development agency people here)
Every underground comic book archetype is here in this hotel. they come and go at odd hours and interact with each other on a mysterious level. We have....
- the large fat English man in sandels with slicked back hair and a long thick bushy pirate like beard. Is he with the petite malaysian (?) lady, who flutters as he politely offers her a chair at his dinner table. He is clearly a wealthy but bent backstreet diamond dealer.
- the two chinese men - do they know each other? they seem to be together and yet distant. The dangerous one has a fu man chu beard, the other is so nondescript, hes virtually invisible. they are part of an international drug ring and close to the triads.
- the dark rugged and very mysterious man. His features are striking but ungiving of his origin. Is that a natural dark skin, or is he heavily tanned, or even just dirty - you could believe it of him. He speaks with no-one but his piercing eyes are always scanning around him. And how come he has a can of beer with his meals? Only he can get away with that here.
- The loud middle-aged, lean and round-shouldered Australian. Telling tales to anyone who will listen and some who wont about his escapades with terrorists, insurgents and militia. His stories are covering something that he doesnt want to reviel about himself - hes running away from something.
And all of these characters find refuge in this throwback hotel from the 50's. An outpost on the edge of war and crime zones. A haven run by a tall, smartly dressed greek man by the name of george - he knows everyone one of his guests and attends thier every need with a broad smile and sweeping calm. George will take care of your passport and documents, George will get you a sim card, George will change your dollars, George will arrange a driver.
And amongst all this sense of darkeness, i feel incredibly at ease. As if im living in a not-so-futuristic chapter of 2000ADs Robo-hunter
The Sudan - 13
What happens when you take a very bright, passionate and intellectual committee, throw in a rapidly approaching deadline, several million dollars, a few billion starving people, some conflicting government parties and a couple of "His Excellencies"?
The answer is a bit of a deadlock and a lot of stress.
We sat in the hotel lobby tonight to finalise the process of our first day (we kick off tomorrow) - and true to form (this happens everytime we do a big event - "His Excellency" or not) we have everything ready to go but people still want to define roles, argue movements, suggest ideas etc. And true to form by the time someone suggested dinner, we were all relaxed again and looking forward to getting started.
In truth, it wasn't so stressful. The people im working with are great and very smart and very caring... but it wasnt a particularly productive meeting - i'd have been better off practising ukulele in my room... but maybe its a necessary process step when youre doing this sort of thing.
So its 10.30pm - im going to try and get a good nights sleep so that im all fresh and dandy tomorrow for "His Excellency"
The answer is a bit of a deadlock and a lot of stress.
We sat in the hotel lobby tonight to finalise the process of our first day (we kick off tomorrow) - and true to form (this happens everytime we do a big event - "His Excellency" or not) we have everything ready to go but people still want to define roles, argue movements, suggest ideas etc. And true to form by the time someone suggested dinner, we were all relaxed again and looking forward to getting started.
In truth, it wasn't so stressful. The people im working with are great and very smart and very caring... but it wasnt a particularly productive meeting - i'd have been better off practising ukulele in my room... but maybe its a necessary process step when youre doing this sort of thing.
So its 10.30pm - im going to try and get a good nights sleep so that im all fresh and dandy tomorrow for "His Excellency"
The Sudan - 12
Ive broken the golden rule of international travel to developing countries.
I was given this piece of wisdom by a good friend of mine, who has mentored me over the past few years in personal cleanliness and hygiene - and now i feel that i have let him down.
I not only accepted, but drank too - a glass of fizzy orange WITH ICE IN IT!
Its now only a matter of time.
I was given this piece of wisdom by a good friend of mine, who has mentored me over the past few years in personal cleanliness and hygiene - and now i feel that i have let him down.
I not only accepted, but drank too - a glass of fizzy orange WITH ICE IN IT!
Its now only a matter of time.
The Sudan - 11
I am struck by the coping tolerances of my international and bilingual colleagues.
While helping prepare a presentation in English on an Italian computer, I was driven to distraction by the endless red squiggles underlying every single word as if in anger at the need for the Italian user to create her presentation in English.
And on the subject of computers - have you ever seen an Arabic keyboard? it looks just like your keyboard, except for some squiggles in the corner of each key. Nothing remarkable about that you might think until you understand that each character has a specific pronunciation but has a different shape depending on where it is in the word or phrase... for this reason, the break through innovation in arabic word processing was when they managed to get the system to work out the context of what was being typed and then adjusted the character shapes to be correct - now that really is predictive text.
While helping prepare a presentation in English on an Italian computer, I was driven to distraction by the endless red squiggles underlying every single word as if in anger at the need for the Italian user to create her presentation in English.
And on the subject of computers - have you ever seen an Arabic keyboard? it looks just like your keyboard, except for some squiggles in the corner of each key. Nothing remarkable about that you might think until you understand that each character has a specific pronunciation but has a different shape depending on where it is in the word or phrase... for this reason, the break through innovation in arabic word processing was when they managed to get the system to work out the context of what was being typed and then adjusted the character shapes to be correct - now that really is predictive text.
The Sudan - 10
I walk from the car to the back door of the office. Its 1pm and the sun is scorching. Im in the direct sunshine for no more than 3 minutes and im concerned that i haven't put any sun screen on. I ponder for a moment what it might be like to be working right now (only a few miles away from where i stand) in a desperately barren field, desperately hoping for a bit of crop to grow, desperately wishing for a swig of clean water, desperately worried about my dieing children, desperately waiting for the unrelenting sun to set. And then i think that at least this 3 minutes will keep my sun tan topped up.
Our car is stopped by the police today, we are directed to pull over by a one of a crowd of young policeman. Hes very tall and dressed in crisp white military looking uniform. Our driver winds down the smoked glass window to the policeman, and the two politely shake hands and exchange greetings as if they know each other. As our driver presumably explains what hes doing I hear the name of the organisation that im working for, and another man joins the policeman - hes just as young, but dressed in regular street clothes and demands that our driver lower the windows of the back of the car. Theres a cautious sideways glance at us in the back, an exchange of a couple of words and were sent on our way again. It probably meant nothing significant, but I was well prepared with my basic training in personal security to "remain with the vehicle but if forced to leave it remain behind the engine block for maximum protection"
Our car is stopped by the police today, we are directed to pull over by a one of a crowd of young policeman. Hes very tall and dressed in crisp white military looking uniform. Our driver winds down the smoked glass window to the policeman, and the two politely shake hands and exchange greetings as if they know each other. As our driver presumably explains what hes doing I hear the name of the organisation that im working for, and another man joins the policeman - hes just as young, but dressed in regular street clothes and demands that our driver lower the windows of the back of the car. Theres a cautious sideways glance at us in the back, an exchange of a couple of words and were sent on our way again. It probably meant nothing significant, but I was well prepared with my basic training in personal security to "remain with the vehicle but if forced to leave it remain behind the engine block for maximum protection"
The Sudan - 10
Someone asked me why i was writing this blog. I guess I should view a question like that as feedback, but I went on obliviously to explain.
In Sudan you need a permit to take photographs. Yes its true. I havent found out why yet, but taking photos without a permit is a serious offence.... here is a paragraph from my security clearance papers......
Photography
Do not take photographs. Photography without a permit is forbidden in Sudan.. In case anyone stops you while photographing, do listen to him. The person may be from a security agency in civilian clothes. Alternately you may ask an official at site if you can take photographs of your friends.
Apparently it has been known for tourists to be arrested for taking pictures of the Nile!
I am a visually orientated person, and it would be my natural preference to take photographs as a way of remembering and describing by visit to The Sudan, but i have decided that i'm not up for the challenge of either 1) going through the beaurocratic process of applying for a permit (crikey it took 4 passport photos just to get this hotel room) or 2) taking undercover pictures
And so that is why i am writing this blog - painting in words
In Sudan you need a permit to take photographs. Yes its true. I havent found out why yet, but taking photos without a permit is a serious offence.... here is a paragraph from my security clearance papers......
Photography
Do not take photographs. Photography without a permit is forbidden in Sudan.. In case anyone stops you while photographing, do listen to him. The person may be from a security agency in civilian clothes. Alternately you may ask an official at site if you can take photographs of your friends.
Apparently it has been known for tourists to be arrested for taking pictures of the Nile!
I am a visually orientated person, and it would be my natural preference to take photographs as a way of remembering and describing by visit to The Sudan, but i have decided that i'm not up for the challenge of either 1) going through the beaurocratic process of applying for a permit (crikey it took 4 passport photos just to get this hotel room) or 2) taking undercover pictures
And so that is why i am writing this blog - painting in words
The Sudan - 9
It is so dusty here. The floors of my hotel are hard reconstituted marble tiles - they keep the place nice and cool and they are diligently mopped daily. However, despite the noble attempt, my suede shoes (im a trend setter like that) are constantly dirty with dust - its starting to irritate me. Aren't dessert boots made of suede? that seems like a design error to me - surely rubber boots would be a more satisfactory option for the shoe-proud man-about-dessert.
in my "personal safety training - basic" course, I was informed that in the event of being kidnapped, it would be good for my moral to maintain a good personal hygiene and appearance - i can see these bloody suede shoes being the death of me.
in my "personal safety training - basic" course, I was informed that in the event of being kidnapped, it would be good for my moral to maintain a good personal hygiene and appearance - i can see these bloody suede shoes being the death of me.
Friday, 4 April 2008
The Sudan - 8
38 deg centigrade at 8.30 in the evening. Its been a long hard day today - everyone wanted to keep working (mind you there is a startling amount of work still to be done before we start the workshop on Sunday) so it was with great relief when we finally walked out of the office at 8.30pm despite the air being almost overwhelmingly suffocating with heat. Actually I have to say this is brilliant weather - sure its hot, dang hot, but its also dry - there is no humidity - its not at all sweaty
I sat in the meeting with 18 other people - not one of them English, and yet we all talked English all day. Fortunately for my humbling embarassment, there was also an India, a Moroccan, an Italian, and an Egyptian at the table, so i convinced myself that they weren't all talking my mother tongue just for my benefit.
Today is Friday. Fridays and Saturdays are the weekend here, so technically many of the participants in the meeting should have been with family and freinds. Many of the men came in their weekend dress - crisp white robes and head wraps (i cant remember the names for these items) They looked very elegant especially the older men with snow white whiskers to match their clothes and contrast their dark skin. Interestingly that the clothing is traditional, but there appears to still be a place to put their ever-ringing mobile phones.
There was lots of talking and plenty of laughing, and of course the plentiful supply of tea. Rather disappointingly, it appears that the tea of choice is lipton bag on a string - but with a couple of heaped teaspoons of powedered milk and a couple of heaped teaspoons of sugar. I counted the sugar bowls - each twice as big as a tea cup - there was a sugar bowl for every 3 tea cups.
I had a vision of loosing weight while i was out here - i could do with a few pounds off, and i lost nearly a stone when i was out in India this time last year. But eating here doesnt appear to be that far removed from back home. Biscuits with your afternoon tea, chicken and chips in a tin foil basket for lunch (and sadly for tea if your unlucky). there is always potato fries androasted veg with your battered fish or braised meat. Now i appreciate that im in a hotel that clearly caters for international travelers, journalists and business men, but i wouldnt mind having a go a some more traditional local faire.
Well the panic is beginning to settle in, and so tonight i must burn some midnight oil so that i am both ready with my own presentations AND my proposed plans for the running of things - it can sometimes be a bit tricky to get others to listen to sense, but im sure a prepared "document" might speak their language
I sat in the meeting with 18 other people - not one of them English, and yet we all talked English all day. Fortunately for my humbling embarassment, there was also an India, a Moroccan, an Italian, and an Egyptian at the table, so i convinced myself that they weren't all talking my mother tongue just for my benefit.
Today is Friday. Fridays and Saturdays are the weekend here, so technically many of the participants in the meeting should have been with family and freinds. Many of the men came in their weekend dress - crisp white robes and head wraps (i cant remember the names for these items) They looked very elegant especially the older men with snow white whiskers to match their clothes and contrast their dark skin. Interestingly that the clothing is traditional, but there appears to still be a place to put their ever-ringing mobile phones.
There was lots of talking and plenty of laughing, and of course the plentiful supply of tea. Rather disappointingly, it appears that the tea of choice is lipton bag on a string - but with a couple of heaped teaspoons of powedered milk and a couple of heaped teaspoons of sugar. I counted the sugar bowls - each twice as big as a tea cup - there was a sugar bowl for every 3 tea cups.
I had a vision of loosing weight while i was out here - i could do with a few pounds off, and i lost nearly a stone when i was out in India this time last year. But eating here doesnt appear to be that far removed from back home. Biscuits with your afternoon tea, chicken and chips in a tin foil basket for lunch (and sadly for tea if your unlucky). there is always potato fries androasted veg with your battered fish or braised meat. Now i appreciate that im in a hotel that clearly caters for international travelers, journalists and business men, but i wouldnt mind having a go a some more traditional local faire.
Well the panic is beginning to settle in, and so tonight i must burn some midnight oil so that i am both ready with my own presentations AND my proposed plans for the running of things - it can sometimes be a bit tricky to get others to listen to sense, but im sure a prepared "document" might speak their language
Thursday, 3 April 2008
The Sudan - 7
A year ago (to the week) i sat one evening under a clear sky in the foot hills of the Himalayas with the same two men that I sat with tonight under the clear skys of Khartoum. A World apart and yet a World together. A Moroccan, an Indian and an Englishman. We continued the conversation that we started a year ago as if it were yesterday. We put the World to rights.
Its a real privilage to be with people like this; not only are they giving in their thoughts, but also welcoming of yours, and in this way the exploration of ideas is limitless.
As we began to feel the effect of a hard days work, we pondered why these conversations were so energising and natural. Of course we came up with a number of possible reasons, but my favourite one was to do with a "maturity of identity", a level of self-confidence that resulted in not having to defend your insecurities.
And if this is the case, then could "insecurities" and "immature identities" be a reason for conflict between say the North and South of Sudan?
Its a real privilage to be with people like this; not only are they giving in their thoughts, but also welcoming of yours, and in this way the exploration of ideas is limitless.
As we began to feel the effect of a hard days work, we pondered why these conversations were so energising and natural. Of course we came up with a number of possible reasons, but my favourite one was to do with a "maturity of identity", a level of self-confidence that resulted in not having to defend your insecurities.
And if this is the case, then could "insecurities" and "immature identities" be a reason for conflict between say the North and South of Sudan?
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