Yesterday, Roseval, The Save the Children M&E manager of our Haiti office, accompanied me with his two young darling children, for a circumnavigation of Port au Prince. "APY", the broad smiling M&E analyst, who emerged as the peer trainer during the training sessions (I try to fade quickly as the training "leader" and guide the group through needed topics) also accompanied us.
I had never seen downtown but from my hotel balcony a good 5 miles away or further. We were able to walk about the main Square and see the the Presidential Palace, the monuments of the liberators of 1803. Afterwards, we stopped in at a pizza shop surrounding the huge square, and I delighted listening ot the chilren describe how the one can eat more pizza than the other. Roseval's son hung close by me, even grasping my hand as we walked through the square. I see, at the least, a future M&E anlyst. I saw, and experienced, a couple of difficult events, but it was enjoyable to get out after a long week.
That evening, I noted another correlative of poverty. At night, as fireworks erupted from the Square and the Presidential Palace, I knew that tomorrow my flight would take me out over the city towards the ocean before banking north towards the U.S. I would also see that sprawling shanty town south of the city. Tonight, it was dark. In any developing country, especially the capital cities, you know where the pockets of poverty are, and the areas of the more affluent; the former is dark, while the latter is lit.
There has been something that I have observed each morning that has evoked a couriosity in me. About a mile west of me there is another hill nearly as high where the hotel is located. Even though it is relatively flat, there are no houses, nor farms on it. Perhaps it is because of the nearby cell phone towers. Each morning, I would see a score or so of people wandering across this hilltop in either (that I could see) white shirts or the ubiquitous bright red Digicel (the local cell phone company) T-shirts. The people seemed to not be going anywhere but walking about, a sort of Brownian motion that describes a random motion of microscopic particles in fluid.
I am mentally preparing to leave Haiti. I know that even though I have spent a total of two weeks here on two separate visits with time travled to the rural areas, I still do not know the Haitian people. I have just looked at this country, but I have not understood the poverty, the customs, the politics, nor the economics.
This morning, I once again saw the white and red shirted figures arrayed across the hilltop opposite my balconey, but this time it was perhaps 4 or 5 persons standing in a clearing. It seemed that that were facing me, but I knew that I was invisible to them from this distance. I was if I was still 4,000 miles away in the U.S. to them.
As a child, my grandfather would take me on long drives out into the farmland of the deserts of the America Southwest of Imperial Valley. On our many excursions, he would invariably pull off the side of the road and not speak for perhaps 20 minutes or longer. Then suddenly he would ask me what did I see. He would ask me this since he understood how I thought, and I would begin to describe what I was looking at, all the details. After my pause, my grandfather would then ask me, "but David, what do you see?" He would never just let me look, but to really see what was ocurring with the group men digging a ditch, baling hay, or the thermal steam well construction.
I still largely only look at the world and people about me in this superficial manner. As I looked at the small group of Haitians on the hill opposite me, who appeared to be facing me, I found myself inexpliably raise my hand and wave to them slowly and highly. I thought that I imagined a response. This was absurd on my part, but I did go in and get my small pair of binoculars to perhaps see them. Well, they all were gathered with hands raised while facing each other, oblivious to this affluent American. It is as i thought. Hands raised in this manner is something of a celebratory and ascending motion. with hands raised, one demonstrates lack defensiveness and an acknowledgement of someone, something higher. I do not know what, nor whom, they were acknowledging, but it was certainly not this American peering at them from afar.
There is a book by the American author Erskine Caldwell (Tobacco Road) that I have, but I cannot recall the title. Towards the end of the story there is a curious event of a man who begins to spend increasing time peering through a peep hole in a shack on the back of his farm overlooking a valley. This man had seen this view from outside the shack all of his life, but he became entranced by the peep hole view. His friends and neighbors began to come by and ridiculed his absurdity, but one by one, they each became curious, then all would sit individually for hours peering through the peep hole and not being able to explain to them selves, nor each other why they had become entranced by this view of their immediate world.
When I read this account by the author, it made no sense to me as I read the book, and in fact it seemed a distraction in the novel. But, as I read on, it seemed to occupy a key structure in the books' thesis. I think that Mr. Caldwell was describing how difficult it is for us humans to really see and not simply to look at the people and world about us. Perhaps I had found my peep hole here in Haiti from my secure and elegant hotel balconey. Perhaps...
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
Haiti Images
It is Flag Day here in Haiti, so the Save the Children office is closed, but soon I will be picked up by the M&E manager, Roseval Supreme to return to the office for a project summary and next steps.
This morning, I was watching the workers finishing up the new hotel parking garage that was being constructed on my last trip to Haiti. The workers were pouring concrete into the top of one of the vertical support programs, clad in wooden forms and surrounded by reinforcement rod. There was a brigade of workers carrying buckets of concrete up the three stories and then one person poured into the top of the form. Of course, I wondered why they did not simply back up a concrete truck and just pump the concrete up to the top of the pillar. But I have observed this manual labor in many locations. Once in El Salvador I watched from my air-conditioned hotel room 4 older men demolish a huge tree stump at the sidewalk with axes during the week. It was brutal work. When I mentioned to my host that a mechanized tree stump grinder could finish the job in minutes, he replied that those men would then not have jobs and their families would go hungry.
The Save the Children PDA Team
The two IT persons (Philippe and Rivolino) were off in a corner at the end of our training session yesterday. They had two laptops out and had commandeered the Pendragon manual. Suddenly, they both rose from their chairs and made some commotion. When I asked what was going on, they demonstrated a successful (1st time I've seen it) wireless transmission of data from the PDA to the Pendragon form design "client, to a database "server" laptop.
They had loaded the Pendragon forms design application onto a "client" laptop, but loaded the Pendragon MS Access backend database onto the 2nd laptop. then the data they entered on the PDA went across the wireless network to their server laptop and appeared as a new record on the database. This is where they jumped up.
As i mentioned earlier, they were able to establish contact with the VPN network in the Dessalines and Maaissante impact areas from Port au Prince. Next step, create a MS SQL Server database on a SC office server (might need some support, licenses), allow the M&E group to build test forms from their client laptop, then send the PDA's with the Education manager to give to the program supervisor (both of whom attended all of our training sessions) to collect test data in the Dessalines impact area. Then, they will send the data back to Port au Prince using the VPN network connection at the Dessalines office. In the future, the Port au Prince M&E office will send the forms to the impact office as the PDA is docked there and new data is uploaded).
The other CO's using PDA's have achieved 4 values; increased data accuracy while using the PDA's at the impact areas, elimination of non-value added cost of paper management, elimination of data hand transcription costs, decreased time to analyse data. Haiti has added the 5th value now; elimination of transporting PDA's across rugged roads (cost and time).
I overhead the Country Office director, Lee nelson mention that their office here in Haiti can receive a dozen visitors am month. Even though my visit is fully funded for air transportation, lodging, etc, by the agency, I fully realize that my visits require an additional workload that takes the staff away from their regular busy workweek. also, there are additional costs and time to accommodate my visit.
But I received a very flattering comment yesterday after our PDA team lunch (funded by the CO) that makes it all worth it for me. Upon entering the restaurant, I sat at the far end of the long table to accommodate my left-handedness. As we waited for our meals (I enjoyed delicious braised goat), the team were engaged in animated conversation in Creole with occasional group glances towards me. Later, Roseval asked me if I knew what they were talking about. My french is poor and my Creole is non-existent, as he knew. He explained that sometimes visitors arrive and have difficulty establishing contact on a personal level, likely due to their schedule and visit content. He said that the team was remarking at the restaurant that I did not seem to hold myself in high esteem and they had seen me make efforts to make contact with all, to the delight of drivers, janitors, and other staff. I understand how it can be when someone approaches and I do not know the language, and this has been a particular change in my life when I return ot the United States and meet someone not of native birth.
I do enjoy this part, making every effort to greet everyone, regardless. Often I am met with surprise and even awkwardness by staffers as I bend down to look in their eyes and greet them while taking their hand after I learn the local customary greeting. I am obviously well-fed and tall having taken my multi-vitamins since a child. I have seen the other visitors do this as well, including the recent visits by Charlie McCormack and the other Alliance persons during their visit. Everyone works so hard ot make my stay so productive and comfortable, and i have really been struck by the friendliness of everyone in Haiti. What a joy.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The PD1 Team
The mobile computing team that I am teaching is doing great. At this point, I am doing a fad and the leaders/ teachers have emerged and are reading the manual at night and teaching by day. The team has several levels and sub-groups that I have observed. There are 8 persons on team, compared ot the usual one or two. The two IT persons are always present between server/computer service tickets. The Two M&E persons are there who are pretty fluent in MS Access. There are two other persons from M&E who are really enthusiastic, but perform mostly administrative roles in their office, and then I have the Education sector manager and the an Education program manager who traveled in from the impact area. I continually remind them that he is a very important person, since he is the target of what they are doing. His supervisors will actually use the PDA's, and they must be usable!
The fun part about using PDA's are that they are mobile. They liberate you from your desk, or even the required placement of a laptop. The first training day, most team members brought their laptops, in part to stay connected to their co-workers via the wireless environ. There is a curious aspect ot PDA's. A PDA is a small hand-sized computer with a small screen, but able to a lot of which you can do on a computer. PDA's now can do what a laptop did 4 or 5 years ago. Still, you generally connect your PDA to a laptop or desktop in order ot synchronize information between the two and to utilize the applications. In order ot connect the two you usually place the PDA in a socking station or cradle which not only connects the PDA to the laptop by a USB cable, but also holds the PDA at a slightly inclined viewing angle os the screen can be seen while seated in front of the laptop. As we build PDA mobile survey forms on the laptop, we then transfer the forms ot the PDA so that we can view and test them by actually typing data into the forms using the virtual PDA keyboard that is on-screen.
Invariably, after the team member (anywhere on my trips) finishes loading the form onto the PDA they still leave it in the cradle to scrunch over at the waist and attempt ot type information on the the screen. I gently remind them that because these are mobile devices we can detach ourselves from our computer-tethered location and move about as we were meant to as human beings. Well, no one brought a laptop on the 2nd day of training except myself and a manager (he had work to do). By the time that I had arrived (I had encouraged all, as is my tradition, to take take the PDA home and sleep with it), the team members had configured the devices to the wireless network and we conducted most of the training standing in a group, leaning against the tables, or out in the hallway.
Also, i returned from a break to them team obviously haranguing a fellow team member in fun. I kept to the team margin and determined that one of the administrative team members (yes, a young lady who was trying very hard in the predominately male computer world) had called her PDA, a PD1. At that point in the discussion I had returned from giving them a moment to establish a server-client password between the PDA and my laptop. I walked up to the lady and asked her what the all the laughter was about. She, as I was aware, was reluctant to tell me, but another quickly told me about her calling her PDA a PD1. I then stepped back and suggest that they use PD1 as their password. I got some surprised faces, but a small smile from the afflicted lady. Later that day, the team unanimously voted to name their group, "The PD1 team". She is a hero.
The fun part about using PDA's are that they are mobile. They liberate you from your desk, or even the required placement of a laptop. The first training day, most team members brought their laptops, in part to stay connected to their co-workers via the wireless environ. There is a curious aspect ot PDA's. A PDA is a small hand-sized computer with a small screen, but able to a lot of which you can do on a computer. PDA's now can do what a laptop did 4 or 5 years ago. Still, you generally connect your PDA to a laptop or desktop in order ot synchronize information between the two and to utilize the applications. In order ot connect the two you usually place the PDA in a socking station or cradle which not only connects the PDA to the laptop by a USB cable, but also holds the PDA at a slightly inclined viewing angle os the screen can be seen while seated in front of the laptop. As we build PDA mobile survey forms on the laptop, we then transfer the forms ot the PDA so that we can view and test them by actually typing data into the forms using the virtual PDA keyboard that is on-screen.
Invariably, after the team member (anywhere on my trips) finishes loading the form onto the PDA they still leave it in the cradle to scrunch over at the waist and attempt ot type information on the the screen. I gently remind them that because these are mobile devices we can detach ourselves from our computer-tethered location and move about as we were meant to as human beings. Well, no one brought a laptop on the 2nd day of training except myself and a manager (he had work to do). By the time that I had arrived (I had encouraged all, as is my tradition, to take take the PDA home and sleep with it), the team members had configured the devices to the wireless network and we conducted most of the training standing in a group, leaning against the tables, or out in the hallway.
Also, i returned from a break to them team obviously haranguing a fellow team member in fun. I kept to the team margin and determined that one of the administrative team members (yes, a young lady who was trying very hard in the predominately male computer world) had called her PDA, a PD1. At that point in the discussion I had returned from giving them a moment to establish a server-client password between the PDA and my laptop. I walked up to the lady and asked her what the all the laughter was about. She, as I was aware, was reluctant to tell me, but another quickly told me about her calling her PDA a PD1. I then stepped back and suggest that they use PD1 as their password. I got some surprised faces, but a small smile from the afflicted lady. Later that day, the team unanimously voted to name their group, "The PD1 team". She is a hero.
Buttons, Diplomats and Carafes..
I almost added guns to the title, but...
I have just returned from breakfast on my fourth working day at our Save the Children office in Haiti. As I approached the elevator to rise to my room, I had to side-step a couple of UN gentleman in full battle gear; the goggled helmets, automatic weapon - the regalia. I have no critical comment here, but I was in the delightful throes of a full pot of delicious Haiti coffee and the run or flight reflex needed no priming at that moment You never no what you might encounter in life, but isn't something different nice, especially as content to tell others?
When I returned to my room on Tuesday, I was surprised that my laundry was back from submitting it that morning. Well, there was two identical, not one, exquisitely typed (not computer-generated, letters on water-marked stationary neatly enclosed in hotel stationary laid on my desk. The writer curtly stated that one of my shirts had been damaged by a machine and that the body was being returned for my disposal and I was being credited five times the laundry charge. Ha! I got them, They over-credited me by three times the original price of the shirt obtained from El Salvador three years ago. Actually I loved that powder blue (my favorite color (hence my consulting business name, SixBlue Data)guyavera as it is called. It is the traditional latin american businessman's shirt, very comfortable. Well, if that is the worst that happens on this trip....
Oh, regarding laundry. I recall a Warner Bros. Looney Tunes cartoon from the 1930's peering into a laundry service. After (significant this) the washing and ironing, there was an individual with a hammer smashing the buttons on each shirt that rolled upon a conveyor in front of him. I guess if your shirts buttons escaped unscathed then the button-smasher had missed his quota that day. Well, it seems that the button smasher got laid off or replaced by an inefficient optical-targeting system. But nowadays, they insert insidious little tags identifying your room number ot obtensiously ensure return to the owner. I must reveal myself here, it was several trips abroad before I began to discover these irritating tags placed at strategic points in order to cause a welt on ones' body over time (neck, waistband...and other locations) The tags can be as innocuous as a tiny strip of that medical adhesive tape (remember, it came in curiously enclosed metal rolls?) , or worse yet a small piece of cardboard attached to your underwear waistband with a pointed tie-wrap. I recall discovering these adhesive strips on the inside of each of my socks after my third or fourth trips overseas. After examining each of my clothes for their removal, I began to understand why I had grown increasingly grumpy in the last few months - you would too!
This hotel is overrun with high level diplomats, VIPS. My Save the Children ride does not show up until a little before 9AM each morning, but I always excitedly run out there to watch everyone depart for their days' activities. Of course, the proper persons always stand within the marble foyer waiting for their Mercedes SUV to arrive. As for me, I stand outside adjacent to the circled driveway near the parking attendants (a lot more friendly group once they accept you as a blan (this took a couple mornings of friendly greetings and surprised handshakes with them). But from my posted angle I was able to have a view of the VIP's shouting at the drivers and attendents for their vehicle being late (it got there when it got there), the slightly visible holstered huge pistols inside the drivers coat as he jumped out to open the door. My favorite was, since my vehicle left after the majority of vehicles had departed (I only had 1/4 mile to go, but was advised not to walk it for security reasons), the increasingly angry VIPs pacing further and further out into the arrival zone as my attendant friends amused themselves over the pacing.
Also over time, I had met my glum waiter at breakfast. This is the gentleman who and I wrestled momentarily over the carafe of delicious Haitian coffee i had absconded with from a nearby table last year on my prior visit. I had mentally wrestled with this incident since, and had planned to approach it in a more humane manner on this visit. On my first breakfast morning here, I had be-friended the sub head waiter and now when I approached the breakfast area and gained his eye, I just motioned with my two hands in a vertical position, palms horizontal, separated by the approximate height of the small treasure of a carafes' dimensions. If I was early enough, we would have a chance to talk with our synthesized English (his) and French (mine). But, on Tuesday, after requesting a small carafe as I whisked through the area on the way to my balcony table, it was delivered by my uncooperative waiter from last year. We recognized each other. He then, instead of placing the carafe on my table after pouring the tiny cup full of coffee, he turned to leave with my carafe (possessive, aren't I?). I raised my eyebrows and stated, "Un moment, monsieur". The monsieur appellation caught him off guard, since I have not heard anyone call a servant/waiter by this entitlement. Her paused, and looked my way, then I met his eye and said, "Ici, por favor". Well, he tried to hold back his mirth, but let out a chuckle that I had combined both French and Spanish in my desperate attempt to not have that carafe depart from my presence. He returned it and I did my best to thank him in the proper linqua franca (I should learn Creole!).
The truth of this matter is that this young man is likely constantly harassed and demanded upon by guests even more rude than myself. He is also at the bottom of the hotel economic caste level (although he has a significant employment opportunity compared ot the rest of Haiti). Also, he probably has a wife and young children, or at least, an elderly mother. And based on his age, he has likely observed first hand atrocities that I have only read about. Coffee is not very important.
Also, one of the significant accomplishments of this trip on a personal level. I have become highly respectful of all, and I mean all, of the Save the Children vehicle drivers I have met. Never once has a Save staffer allowed me to sit anywhere other than the front passenger seat on our long, bumpy rides. I have tried, but always routinely get kicked out of the rear seat where usually three staffers crunch in. I am told that I need ot be comfortable and to have a good view of the country side. I suspect that it is so that i will not get carsick and ruin the trip. No, everyone is so thankful for my showing up (thanks Lee, Ed, Vicki). But these drivers are real professionals, and i ma amazed at their skill. There are drivers that I will never forget, and what a relief to see one holding the sign at the airport after a 10 hour flight.
Well, here in Haiti, I have been able ot ride the short distance with Anon, my driver who drove us for three days over the roughest roads I have ever experienced in the world. Anon, inexplicably, never warmed up, even after hours of sitting next to him. Last year, I attempted to gain his friendship by offering small gratuities e.g. ensuring that I leaned my head back in the car so he could see the approaching ox cart (this was definitely self serving), or pouring his coffee at breakfast before mine. He would have none of this and for those three days he never turned his head towards me or met my glance. I was knowingly peeved at his spurning of my advances, but I also realized that he knew no English, and i am aware of how this dispense one towards not engaging in communication. also, he was, by nature, to just drive and had probably been strongly admonished not to speak to passengers (my rationalization for him).
Anyway, Anon picked me up at the hotel, and I was met with the same indifferent gaze. On my alighting from the vehicle, I did my best to tell him that i felt that he was a professional driver and that he had always made me feel safe. I had spoken this to him before in broken French. Well that afternoon, I found myself standing next ot Anon during a hosted lunch in the garden honoring our Save the Childre CEO, Charlie McCormack (another story) who had arrived with an Alliance group. Anon actually smiled at me and Roseval asked to take our picture with my PDA camera. Anon replied with a surprisingly enthusiastic, "Oui". Anon threw his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in and leaned his head against my shoulder as Roseval took the picture. Unfortunately, the thumb was obscuring the lens (lack of training). So, once again, I had been wrong. My smallish rants had been just that, small. I have a lot more ot learn, and thankful for the opportunity to learn more, not about others, but myself.
I have just returned from breakfast on my fourth working day at our Save the Children office in Haiti. As I approached the elevator to rise to my room, I had to side-step a couple of UN gentleman in full battle gear; the goggled helmets, automatic weapon - the regalia. I have no critical comment here, but I was in the delightful throes of a full pot of delicious Haiti coffee and the run or flight reflex needed no priming at that moment You never no what you might encounter in life, but isn't something different nice, especially as content to tell others?
When I returned to my room on Tuesday, I was surprised that my laundry was back from submitting it that morning. Well, there was two identical, not one, exquisitely typed (not computer-generated, letters on water-marked stationary neatly enclosed in hotel stationary laid on my desk. The writer curtly stated that one of my shirts had been damaged by a machine and that the body was being returned for my disposal and I was being credited five times the laundry charge. Ha! I got them, They over-credited me by three times the original price of the shirt obtained from El Salvador three years ago. Actually I loved that powder blue (my favorite color (hence my consulting business name, SixBlue Data)guyavera as it is called. It is the traditional latin american businessman's shirt, very comfortable. Well, if that is the worst that happens on this trip....
Oh, regarding laundry. I recall a Warner Bros. Looney Tunes cartoon from the 1930's peering into a laundry service. After (significant this) the washing and ironing, there was an individual with a hammer smashing the buttons on each shirt that rolled upon a conveyor in front of him. I guess if your shirts buttons escaped unscathed then the button-smasher had missed his quota that day. Well, it seems that the button smasher got laid off or replaced by an inefficient optical-targeting system. But nowadays, they insert insidious little tags identifying your room number ot obtensiously ensure return to the owner. I must reveal myself here, it was several trips abroad before I began to discover these irritating tags placed at strategic points in order to cause a welt on ones' body over time (neck, waistband...and other locations) The tags can be as innocuous as a tiny strip of that medical adhesive tape (remember, it came in curiously enclosed metal rolls?) , or worse yet a small piece of cardboard attached to your underwear waistband with a pointed tie-wrap. I recall discovering these adhesive strips on the inside of each of my socks after my third or fourth trips overseas. After examining each of my clothes for their removal, I began to understand why I had grown increasingly grumpy in the last few months - you would too!
This hotel is overrun with high level diplomats, VIPS. My Save the Children ride does not show up until a little before 9AM each morning, but I always excitedly run out there to watch everyone depart for their days' activities. Of course, the proper persons always stand within the marble foyer waiting for their Mercedes SUV to arrive. As for me, I stand outside adjacent to the circled driveway near the parking attendants (a lot more friendly group once they accept you as a blan (this took a couple mornings of friendly greetings and surprised handshakes with them). But from my posted angle I was able to have a view of the VIP's shouting at the drivers and attendents for their vehicle being late (it got there when it got there), the slightly visible holstered huge pistols inside the drivers coat as he jumped out to open the door. My favorite was, since my vehicle left after the majority of vehicles had departed (I only had 1/4 mile to go, but was advised not to walk it for security reasons), the increasingly angry VIPs pacing further and further out into the arrival zone as my attendant friends amused themselves over the pacing.
Also over time, I had met my glum waiter at breakfast. This is the gentleman who and I wrestled momentarily over the carafe of delicious Haitian coffee i had absconded with from a nearby table last year on my prior visit. I had mentally wrestled with this incident since, and had planned to approach it in a more humane manner on this visit. On my first breakfast morning here, I had be-friended the sub head waiter and now when I approached the breakfast area and gained his eye, I just motioned with my two hands in a vertical position, palms horizontal, separated by the approximate height of the small treasure of a carafes' dimensions. If I was early enough, we would have a chance to talk with our synthesized English (his) and French (mine). But, on Tuesday, after requesting a small carafe as I whisked through the area on the way to my balcony table, it was delivered by my uncooperative waiter from last year. We recognized each other. He then, instead of placing the carafe on my table after pouring the tiny cup full of coffee, he turned to leave with my carafe (possessive, aren't I?). I raised my eyebrows and stated, "Un moment, monsieur". The monsieur appellation caught him off guard, since I have not heard anyone call a servant/waiter by this entitlement. Her paused, and looked my way, then I met his eye and said, "Ici, por favor". Well, he tried to hold back his mirth, but let out a chuckle that I had combined both French and Spanish in my desperate attempt to not have that carafe depart from my presence. He returned it and I did my best to thank him in the proper linqua franca (I should learn Creole!).
The truth of this matter is that this young man is likely constantly harassed and demanded upon by guests even more rude than myself. He is also at the bottom of the hotel economic caste level (although he has a significant employment opportunity compared ot the rest of Haiti). Also, he probably has a wife and young children, or at least, an elderly mother. And based on his age, he has likely observed first hand atrocities that I have only read about. Coffee is not very important.
Also, one of the significant accomplishments of this trip on a personal level. I have become highly respectful of all, and I mean all, of the Save the Children vehicle drivers I have met. Never once has a Save staffer allowed me to sit anywhere other than the front passenger seat on our long, bumpy rides. I have tried, but always routinely get kicked out of the rear seat where usually three staffers crunch in. I am told that I need ot be comfortable and to have a good view of the country side. I suspect that it is so that i will not get carsick and ruin the trip. No, everyone is so thankful for my showing up (thanks Lee, Ed, Vicki). But these drivers are real professionals, and i ma amazed at their skill. There are drivers that I will never forget, and what a relief to see one holding the sign at the airport after a 10 hour flight.
Well, here in Haiti, I have been able ot ride the short distance with Anon, my driver who drove us for three days over the roughest roads I have ever experienced in the world. Anon, inexplicably, never warmed up, even after hours of sitting next to him. Last year, I attempted to gain his friendship by offering small gratuities e.g. ensuring that I leaned my head back in the car so he could see the approaching ox cart (this was definitely self serving), or pouring his coffee at breakfast before mine. He would have none of this and for those three days he never turned his head towards me or met my glance. I was knowingly peeved at his spurning of my advances, but I also realized that he knew no English, and i am aware of how this dispense one towards not engaging in communication. also, he was, by nature, to just drive and had probably been strongly admonished not to speak to passengers (my rationalization for him).
Anyway, Anon picked me up at the hotel, and I was met with the same indifferent gaze. On my alighting from the vehicle, I did my best to tell him that i felt that he was a professional driver and that he had always made me feel safe. I had spoken this to him before in broken French. Well that afternoon, I found myself standing next ot Anon during a hosted lunch in the garden honoring our Save the Childre CEO, Charlie McCormack (another story) who had arrived with an Alliance group. Anon actually smiled at me and Roseval asked to take our picture with my PDA camera. Anon replied with a surprisingly enthusiastic, "Oui". Anon threw his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in and leaned his head against my shoulder as Roseval took the picture. Unfortunately, the thumb was obscuring the lens (lack of training). So, once again, I had been wrong. My smallish rants had been just that, small. I have a lot more ot learn, and thankful for the opportunity to learn more, not about others, but myself.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Changes in Plans
I know that my first day in the Save The Children office is my favorite. I have spent quite some time preparing for that day, with the advantage that I have made a visit here a year prior. So, the fundamental logistics are already in place (where is the bathroom, how do I navigate back to the tiny office where I am working, etc.)
But even Sunday night, I am aware that plans and agendas will certainly change. In fact, it is what I hope will happen.
This predilection for change in work tasks likely stems from a few months working on the Boeing AOG team supporting hand tools about 15 years ago. AOG means "Airplane On Ground", meaning that for some reason a a customers plane can not be put into flight and the local ground crew cannot fix it. Boeing then send out a highly-specialized "rapid response" team the airport, or jungle or end of a runway where a plane skidded off the end and tore up it's nose in a near final nose-dive. The AOG team was legendary and I found myself at a desk with a red telephone and a list of contacts. My manager told me to do anything that they want regardless of cost, and that speed was prime (NetHope...?). I was bored to death, spending my time keeping my ad hoc database applications up and running, and reading kit specifications to be prepared.
Sure enough that phone rang and a Boeing AOG person in Thailand did not even say hello, but just started reading off a list of items needed, calipers, specialized sockets, the like. For years, I had worked with databases developing tool inventory applications back in the days of Apple IIE's. For many of those early years, I was always located in a loud, dirty factory; I loved it. I knew tools after researching and developing many a contract, first needing to be expert on what I was buying. Well, the guy on the other end of the phone read that list faster than I could write it down, then simply demanded, "when will they be here?"; no phone number, no name. I paused, thinking that I first needed to review available inventory located in the worlds' largest building by volume (the Boeing 747/767/777/787 factory in Everett Washington. He then hung up. I jumped on the computer and started looking for what I thought he told me. Less than ten minutes later that phone rang again. This was the AOG manager. there was no hello, simply, "did you get the Thailand airways request?". Before I could answer, he simply asked, "Have they shipped yet?"
Well, I loved that job, I would hand-walk, hand-talk those order through, even carrying boxes ot the shipping department and helping them unpack them from the vendor boxes, and re-pack them for overseas travel. I would often drive them the 40 miles to hand-deliver ot Fed-Ex or UPS. It was stressful, but i loved that phone call... I get bored easily.
Well, back to Haiti. I had not been informed when the Save vehicle would pick me up, but I stood out and watched the parade of diplomats and other NGO workers fume about their armored SUV showing up late. A most unhappy lot! I waited over an hour, not because they were late, but I wanted to ensure that I, was not? Besides, I was freely being entertained!
A familiar face arrived in a Save vehicle for the short 5 minute drive to the office
I was met my my friend Roseval Supreme, the Monitoring & Evaluation manager (data). Then a parade of familiar faces walked in to greet my return. All hugs, and cheek kisses from the women, all very polite, but warm. I love it here. Roseval then told me that, there had been a change of plans. Yes! "could i present to the managers (about 15) a explanation how PDA's could benefit them?". I replied, "Sure, when?". In 20 minutes. Also, immediately after the PDA Productivity for Managers presentation,instead of a small team to train, there would be representatives from most of the program sectors, some coming in from not-too-distant areas, but along difficult roads. Good, I realized that these persons were not the typical M&E, database fluent teams members usually assembled for my visits; these would be the persons subordinates would probably use the PDA's, and usually natives to the impact areas.
well I already had a customized training plan prepared which I would simply enlarge with more explanations ("what is a PDA, a database??) for the enlarged PDA team. But first, the manager presentation. A quick Word outline of my thoughts on mobile functionalities with Outlook, and other ME Office mobile applications, including email, cell phone, internet connectivity, including carrying PDF travel documents and a secure program to carry those pesky password and PIN numbers around. As the outline fleshed out, I began bringing images of the app's into a Power Point presentation. Had the wrong template, but no time ot change it, content not pretty. Fortunately I gained another 10 minutes while waiting for the room to fill, but I needed to walk around handing out as many PDA's as I could. The meeting went well, especially after the idea set in that they could stay connected with office staff and programs without being tied to their desktop/ laptop. Mobile computing, what an idea. this also gave me a chance ot meet some of the new managers and I gave a brief explanation of why I was there based on my prior assessment visit. Gratitude was expressed for the donation of the PDA's and software.
Onto the next meeting as the managers filed out. The team of about a dozen people walked in, five of them with the new PDA's. These had not been gathering dust, and i could quickly see that we would have to do some soft resets. This was one of the most excitecd groups that I have had. Of course, they wanted ot get right into the software, but instead we spent an hour and a half on a what i thought would be a 20 minute discussion of "First Questions", a sort of "have you considered who, what, where...? I was thrilled of the discussion, most of it in French, but i could "feel" what they were talking about, with Roseval intuitively translating for me the key points. They were already ahead of my next question in many cases, already discussing it themselves.
My main point that was new to them was laying ot rest the pre-conceived concept of taking an existing paper form and simply developing it in the forms design software and loading and testing it on the PDA. Harold Narcisse, whom I met in Guatemala at an M&E conference last year literally beamed when I diagrammed on a flip chart that we actually work backwards from their Results Framework indicators, build a database, then ODBC-link into the forms design database, which in turn produces the PDA form, thus ensuring that they only spend the time and effort in the field collecting data that they need.
Anyway, we had great fun, breaking for lunch from 1-2 outside in that glorious sunny Haitian weather. When we attempted ot leave for my hotel at 4PM, a huge stake bed delivery truck was blocking most of the vehicles in the narrow compound. Roseval laughed (Haitians always laugh at adversity - survival) as he described that the truck was unable to backup (transmission problem) and we were all stuck. The truck was too huge to push, so it moved forward and a sort of Keystone Cops struggle ensued of vehicles edging back and forth inches at a time ot escape the truck and depart from the compound.
Oh, and another change in plans. Friday is flag day, so not work in the office, but a trip for Mr. Dave to the city...Whoopee!
Monday, May 14, 2007
To the Office
Well, I am not to the office yet. I am awaiting being picked up by the Save the Children driver. I love the drivers. They are always so professional and skillful. I recall in Bangladesh my favorite driver, a man my age, who was a "freedom fighter" (obviously held in great esteem) during their civil war from Pakistan. I noted how that while navigating the long roads through Barisal choked with people walking alongside the road edges that he particularly slowed around children and the elderly. I remarked once that it was good that he did so, since our organization was Save the Children, not Hit the Children.
I was up until late further developing my my implementation and training plan. I have used this one often, but I always like to customize it for each office and keeping in mind the skills of the team that I will be working with.
I have been doing this work for going on four years now and certain things are starting ot fall into place, or rather forcing their way in! By this, I mean the whole scheme of things. When I first began working overseas, and even before, I read voraciously on relief organizations and the countries that I would be visiting. My idea of a relief organization was of a gigantic C-140 transport plane pushing food pallets out the back as it flew low over a distressed area. I suppose that this idea of helping others was based on my ideal of not getting involved (being up in the airplane, but never landing), but also on what I had seen in the media as a child.
I recall the thrill associated with actual trembling when I first visited Save's headquarters in Westport, Connecticut. I absorbed the culture and structure every moment that I was there. The people were so different form the for-profit culture that I was so used to
But now, I have been putting it together in a more cohesive way, and it is only getting more complicated! Reading Mountains Beyond Mountains is further illuminating what I think that I already suspected. More later, perhaps....
I was up until late further developing my my implementation and training plan. I have used this one often, but I always like to customize it for each office and keeping in mind the skills of the team that I will be working with.
I have been doing this work for going on four years now and certain things are starting ot fall into place, or rather forcing their way in! By this, I mean the whole scheme of things. When I first began working overseas, and even before, I read voraciously on relief organizations and the countries that I would be visiting. My idea of a relief organization was of a gigantic C-140 transport plane pushing food pallets out the back as it flew low over a distressed area. I suppose that this idea of helping others was based on my ideal of not getting involved (being up in the airplane, but never landing), but also on what I had seen in the media as a child.
I recall the thrill associated with actual trembling when I first visited Save's headquarters in Westport, Connecticut. I absorbed the culture and structure every moment that I was there. The people were so different form the for-profit culture that I was so used to
But now, I have been putting it together in a more cohesive way, and it is only getting more complicated! Reading Mountains Beyond Mountains is further illuminating what I think that I already suspected. More later, perhaps....
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Preciptiation at Dinner
I have just returned to my room from a buffet dinner down in the hotel restaurant. I would rather dine in-room, but it is so much more expensive. It must be because I mostly dine alone, well almost always. It is difficult to encounter someone who speaks English, and when I do participate in a group, they soon tire of trying their English language skills and return to their native language quickly leaving me behind. Besides, meals are only provided there as one may not leave the compound ot search other fare because of security reasons.
I enjoyed conch (think abalone from a mollusk whose shell resembles those used to call out to ships from shore as they arrive) with an onion gravy, red beans and rice, small squabs braised, and macaroni and cheese. I usually try to stay away from fish since I do not navigate small fish bones well. I recall in the Barisal region of Bangladesh, where most meals were rice and stewed fish. I took a bite and instantly the tender tip of my tongued was lanced by a small fish bone. I recall a popping sound as I pulled it painfully from my tongue. I never accept American food, unless it is all that is offered though. Everyone assumes that I want to try global fast food franchises in order to feel at home. Not me, I've done that often enough! I have only gotten food poisoning twice.
Once on that first trip to El Salvador at a nice restaurant upon hitting the paved road returning from the campo (rural) area of our project. The meal was worth it though, a delicious shrimp soup (sopa des camerones). I remember that I was so proud that i ordered my meal in Spanish entirely by myself. After ordering though, I noticed the flustered cook hovering about my table. I had ordered a side dish of refried beans, but instead had asked for sopa des camerones con camerones (with) pintos negro (black beans). The cooled thought I wanted the refried black beans in the soup! My hosts realized my mistake and we all laughed. One must be prepared to be light-hearted while traveling and willing ot appear foolish.
The other gastric distress episode was last month in Guatemala at my hotel. I was just wanting to order in-room since ot was late and my flight left very early, so I ordered the hamburger well done. I should of known for the distress happened upon me in-flight. since then I have learned to carry extra underwear in my brief case. Of course, the anti-diarrheal Cipro works wonders, albeit several hours later.
I found a small table next to a wall this evening as watched as the other guests filed in. The dining area, like most in tropical countries is mostly outside with no walls affording a beautiful view of the city below.
But soon, a heavy rain began to fall driving the diners in towards the center of the restaurant. A couple near to me was getting splattered so I moved my table in towards the room and indicated that they do the same. It was quite a scurry for the other guests.
Back at my room, I was drawn to the balcony to watch as an attendent carried a large patio-style umbrella to ferry guests to and from their vehicles. Then, a whole section of the city below went dark, which is not unusual in developing countries. Of course, it was the shanty town section while ours remained electrified. Small recompense for the expense of hotel life. My favorite hotel was in a remote valley of the Altiplano of Bolivia where we arrived after a long dusty visit to the focus area. It was a resort at a hot springs, of which the hotel was built in the 1930's. I recall that the generators shut down after 8:30PM, and the running water was cold. I went for a walk on a jutting tip of gardened land above the hotel to view the Southern Cross for the first time. Electricity is vital, but one can find redemption in the manner that civilization has experienced for most of time.
Well, back to putting the finishing touches on my training plan for tomorrow. I'm excited.
I enjoyed conch (think abalone from a mollusk whose shell resembles those used to call out to ships from shore as they arrive) with an onion gravy, red beans and rice, small squabs braised, and macaroni and cheese. I usually try to stay away from fish since I do not navigate small fish bones well. I recall in the Barisal region of Bangladesh, where most meals were rice and stewed fish. I took a bite and instantly the tender tip of my tongued was lanced by a small fish bone. I recall a popping sound as I pulled it painfully from my tongue. I never accept American food, unless it is all that is offered though. Everyone assumes that I want to try global fast food franchises in order to feel at home. Not me, I've done that often enough! I have only gotten food poisoning twice.
Once on that first trip to El Salvador at a nice restaurant upon hitting the paved road returning from the campo (rural) area of our project. The meal was worth it though, a delicious shrimp soup (sopa des camerones). I remember that I was so proud that i ordered my meal in Spanish entirely by myself. After ordering though, I noticed the flustered cook hovering about my table. I had ordered a side dish of refried beans, but instead had asked for sopa des camerones con camerones (with) pintos negro (black beans). The cooled thought I wanted the refried black beans in the soup! My hosts realized my mistake and we all laughed. One must be prepared to be light-hearted while traveling and willing ot appear foolish.
The other gastric distress episode was last month in Guatemala at my hotel. I was just wanting to order in-room since ot was late and my flight left very early, so I ordered the hamburger well done. I should of known for the distress happened upon me in-flight. since then I have learned to carry extra underwear in my brief case. Of course, the anti-diarrheal Cipro works wonders, albeit several hours later.
I found a small table next to a wall this evening as watched as the other guests filed in. The dining area, like most in tropical countries is mostly outside with no walls affording a beautiful view of the city below.
But soon, a heavy rain began to fall driving the diners in towards the center of the restaurant. A couple near to me was getting splattered so I moved my table in towards the room and indicated that they do the same. It was quite a scurry for the other guests.
Back at my room, I was drawn to the balcony to watch as an attendent carried a large patio-style umbrella to ferry guests to and from their vehicles. Then, a whole section of the city below went dark, which is not unusual in developing countries. Of course, it was the shanty town section while ours remained electrified. Small recompense for the expense of hotel life. My favorite hotel was in a remote valley of the Altiplano of Bolivia where we arrived after a long dusty visit to the focus area. It was a resort at a hot springs, of which the hotel was built in the 1930's. I recall that the generators shut down after 8:30PM, and the running water was cold. I went for a walk on a jutting tip of gardened land above the hotel to view the Southern Cross for the first time. Electricity is vital, but one can find redemption in the manner that civilization has experienced for most of time.
Well, back to putting the finishing touches on my training plan for tomorrow. I'm excited.
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