Road hazards

Office closure

Just received notice that we are to close our office immediately.  A member of the regional intelligence service will be coming shortly to escort all of us out of the building. It appears to be a matter of confusion about our authority to operate in Senegal and nothing related to the nature of our work.  But the notice comes at an untimely moment when the area is experiencing unprecedented violence.

More information to follow.

Bad news travels slowly

Suspected rebels 'kill five Senegalese troops'

(AFP) – 4 hours ago

ZIGUINCHOR, Senegal — Suspected separatist rebels on Monday killed five soldiers during clashes in southern Senegal's troubled Casamance region, the army's public relations wing said.

This is the heaviest toll suffered by Senegalese troops since six soldiers were killed in October 2009 by suspected rebels waging one of Africa's longest running insurgencies in a bid for independence.

"There were indeed losses. Five soldiers died following clashes this morning" in the Bignona area, near the border with Gambia, an official at the military's public relations department told AFP.

A military source in Ziguinchor, Casamance's main city, said the deaths took place in the village of Boutalate, 35 kilometres (22 miles) from Ziguinchor. Soldiers were "ambushed by elements of the MFDC (Movement of Democratic Forces of Casamance)," while carrying out an operation, the source told AFP.

Things seemed to be getting better and then this...

Troops wounded in Senegal's troubled south

(AFP) – 2 hours ago

DAKAR — Clashes between the army and suspected separatist rebels left two Senegalese soldiers wounded in the restive Casamance region, military sources said on Monday.

"The army's operation to secure the population came under fire from assailants, leaving two wounded in the ranks of the military" on Sunday, a security source told AFP in Ziguinchor, the main city in the Casamance.

The Senegalese army communications department, Dirpa, announced on Sunday that one of its troops had been shot in the hand after several clashes with rebels near the Gambian border.

Dirpa told AFP the rebel Movement of Democratic Forces of Casamance (MFDC) had been planning to carry out hijackings but were interrupted by the army who caused "heavy losses", saying many separatists had been injured but without giving a number.

Security forces fear the MFDC is preparing to step up its operations in the coming days as it marks the anniversary of the outbreak of the separatist rebellion in December 1982.

Casamance, which is cut off from northern Senegal by the Gambia, has been caught in a separatist rebellion since 1982, and sporadic outbreaks of violence persist despite a peace accord signed in 2004.

A rich agricultural region with lush forests and white stretches of beach, development has been stunted in the Casamance as a result of the unrest.

Dangerous paths and Narrow escapes

Last week entailed a lot of travel to the field including an area in dispute among three different armed factions of the MFDC.  The precarious dominion over this area has translated to the lack of discipline among the men operating in this zone.  Highway robberies are commonplace.  This, despite the fact that there are military sentries along literally every kilometer of road (every half mile or so).  I promise to post films to give you an an idea of the open fields and heavily forested patches you can find while traveling between villages.

We returned Friday evening from a long trip to two communities whose rural populations live with the tensions between the competing factions everyday.  They were a good series of meetings.  After an initial chilling reception, the debate heated up quickly and everyone seemed interested in being heard.  Neighborhoods and villages have been organizing themselves in the past two years to form neighborhood associations with the capacity to pressure the local authorities for action in addressing anything from development to education.  We are seeking to add a "road map to peace" to that list.  These communities are rarely ever consulted on the issues concerning the conflict; however, they clearly offer a unique perspective on how issues have been dealt with in the past at the local level to keep life bearable and they may have ideas - with the clandestine contribution of local rebels - of how these may be reflected on a regional and national scale when negotiations take place. The trip to the area was uneventful.  Aside from very greasy rice, I experienced no other assault on my person during that visit.   

The persons traveling along that same stretch of road the next morning were not so lucky. 

One of my colleagues reported that highway bandits appeared on the road out of nowhere and managed to hijack a large fuel container truck and a small station wagon full of passengers.  Highway robberies will increase as we get closer to Christmas, as people return to their villages with money and gifts.  The truck driver was taken hostage temporarily but everyone was allowed to leave the scene unharmed but without their belongings.  Not two hours after the incident ended, the Senegalese army intervened.  A heavy exchange of light and support weapons could be seen and heard if you, like my colleague, were in one of the many vehicles waiting at the roadblocks that the military had established to keep civilians out of the theater of operations.

I am thankful that everyone in that group of vehicles kept their heads and allowed the bandits to take what they came for and leave.  Lives are still valued here.  In conflicts past and present in parts of West and Central Africa, I would not be able to make such a claim.

As we round the corner of our first phase of activities and rev up for to a very busy January, I look forward to seeing how Christmas is celebrated in this largely Catholic region of Senegal.  I also pray for mercy and compassion among those who are thinking about spending it wielding weapons of war.

Rolling through town on a Friday morning

Will we stay or will we go?

Some of you have already seen the news.  My organization has suffered a heavy blow that is threatening its operations all around the globe.  Every morning I wake up praying that some resolution has been found so that this sword of Damoclees does not hang perpetually over our heads.

I have been here before.  In 2004, I had made significant in-roads with one rebel leader (currently awaiting trial as a war criminal in The Hague) in a remote village in the district of Ituri.  It was my third visit to his hideaway and he had allowed us to develop plans that opened paths for the sick and wounded to seek assistance in a hospital located across enemy lines and return.  Before that decision, most had not been allowed to go at all or if they had been able to get to the hospital they would not be allowed to return because they may be spies for the enemy.  I remember distinctly the early morning call that came over the satellite phone.  "The funding has been withdrawn.  Return to base.  Cancel all commitments."  Easier said than done.  People had put their lives and reputations on the line to get us as close as they did.  Now, I had to turn my back on them and wish them luck.  Fortunately the little guy (as I used to refer to him) did not take revenge on our intermediaries.  But I will never know what kinds of tribute they had to pay to buy back his trust.

When we received notice yesterday that our organization had been accused of massive fraud and was under investigation.  Immediately thereafter, the rumors began flying.  Reports of hundreds of millions of dollars at stake.  That the organization will go bankrupt.  That all its offices will close.  It is a lot to absorb and process, especially when I am still developing the contents of our strategy here.  The fact that this incident is being covered by the U.S. press tells me that it is far more serious than we are being led to believe.

We have also received assurances that the project is on solid footing and to continue working as if nothing has changed.  So, we do as we are told.  I have too many dishes spinning on too many poles to stop and wait for an answer.  Our donor meets with the senior staff later this morning and will have a final answer for us then.  We are a fairly new project, so it is also understandable that we may be first on the chopping block if anyone is going to be asked to stop activities.  We have spent the least and have invested the least.  The donor could recover with a new organization that has an unblemished - or at least a less blemished - record. 

But Focusing on the "what ifs" just saps my energy, so I will not update this blog on that front until I hear something concrete one way or another.


Thanks to all for your prayers and encouragement.

Housing and Security

I am slowly moving into my 4th week in Ziguinchor and nearing the end of the point where my employer is able to support my residence in a hotel. I came across a colossal house on the edge of the river with a magnificent roof top terrace that is about the size of my entire house in South Bend.  The ultimate venue for an outside salsa party.  I was very very tempted to take it, when two things emerged.  

Almadie house in Dakar

The first was the rent.  It is about 1,200 dollars a month. Not a whole lot when you compare to prices in the Almadie neighborhood of the capital, Dakar, where a three bedroom house can go for as much as 3,000 dollars a month.  But it is miles above any rent here in Casamance.  Most of my staff pay only 30 or 40 dollars a month for a three or four bedroom house - more if the house has ceramic walls and floors - a real good idea for this climate where moisture gets trapped and turns your house into a haven for mold.  I looked a few apartments for 120 dollars that were more than large enough to suit my needs, but the problem is finding an apartment that is available for long-term rent.  Most are looking for temporary arrangements as tourists move through town looking for alternatives to the hotels.

Image and peace work

 

The other dilemma with the house is that it sends the wrong image.  It screams "here in this giant house abides the rich American spending his way into a peace agreement."  The subtle more humble approach that we have adopted clashes with the lifestyle that this house displays.  So, I am off again in search of alternative digs.  I will try to convince one of the apartment owners to give me a chance ti be  long term renter if I pay a supplement.  The one apartment that really peaked my interest is attached to a house where a mixed Senegalese couple live with their infant child.  He is an artist and she is a humanitarian worker.  They both seem very nice and it is located in a very family-oriented part of town.  It is poor but calm and social with kids in abundance playing in the streets, women doing one another's hair, and just a good vibe overall.

The three main components for remaining safe in a conflict environment are acceptance, deterrence and protection.

Acceptance is by far the cheapest and easiest to develop early on.  It is finding a way to communicate the work that you are doing in a way to get the acceptance of the community and the principle actors in the region.  Sometimes it is just a matter of sitting down with a community and hearing what their concerns are and then saying that you have heard them and will be respectful of their views.  Other times it means hiring staff from the local community or perhaps even placing a number of local youth, women, and elders on the board that evaluates the decision-making process in the development of projects in the area.  Living in a house in that community sends a particular message about my approachability and offers a chance for me to have easy access to community concerns.  If someone should intend me any harm, acceptance offers little defense except the support of the community that may speak on my behalf.  In places like Darfur, we used acceptance as much as possible but had to rely on deterrence to great degree as well.

One major form of deterrence is decreased accessibility. It means getting a ride to work with the company vehicle and changing itineraries on a regular basis.  It also means living in a house that has walls high and reinforced enough to make an aggressor think twice before attempting to breach it.  It means having an unarmed watchman in front of the house day and night. And it means having a well lit compound for obvious reasons. It also means traveling in unarmed convoys with other NGOs who are traveling along the same path with a similar or same itinerary.  Thankfully, conditions in Casamance are such that deterrence has not proven unnecessary measure, thus far. I pray that it never will. One thing to remember with deterrence is that it reduces the risks, but not the threats, by reducing vulnerability.  The threats remain the same

Protection is the measure of last resort.  Very few NGOs are willing to operate in any environment where protection is a requirement for their presence in the area.  It requires deterrence in the form of armed guards, armed convoys, and more rigid requirements for movement and lodging.  These conditions night apply to NGOs operating in places like Iraq, Somalia, or Afghanistan.  It is costly both in terms of actual dollars and also to the integrity of the program.  The success of a program relies, in part, on building a level of trust between you and your target community.  If you come with an armed escort, live in guarded compounds, and remain totally inaccessible outside working hours, you place yourself outside the reality of your target community.  They do not have access to such protection.  There is not real sense of communion.  Why should they take the risk when you do not.  Protection is by all means a necessary evil in areas where food and medicine are inaccessible and must be delivered by any means possible.  But no one has any illusions that a protection security model is conducive to peace work at the community level or even at the track II level (civil society).  Protection reduce the risks by containing the threat with a counter-threat.  Peaee dialogue and threats of violence are mutually exclusive in my mind. 

NGO convoy

Not too long after I started writing this blog, I got a call from my staff that they were on the road returning to town from their field mission.  It has been slow going.  But we have been putting in place protocols for keeping in regular contact and establishing standards of procedure to stay informed, make smart decisions in the face of armed confrontation, and above all preserve life.  The caller indicated that he was on the road with a military convoy.   

A What?

It went against everything we have discussed thus far about neutrality, acceptance, and image.  Apparently another group of foreign NGOs had formed a convoy and invited our group to join accompanied by armored military vehicles.  It is possible that the escort was necessary for reasons my group decided not to mention.  Those reasons notwithstanding, I advised that they politely excuse themselves to address other unfinished work in town.  It only takes one misstep to tarnish the image of a group like ours. Monday morning promises to be very interesting. 

Stand at the Regional Social Forum

While my team was out and about, I was attending the test run of the upcoming World Social Forum scheduled for February 2011 in Dakar.  During its tenth anniversary, the World Social Forum is going to try a new format. In 2010, social movements and civil organizations are going to organize all over the world their own forums in order to debate alternatives to the civilization crisis that ravages the human kind.  Not sure if South Bend is on board to prepare their own but seems like a worthy cause to me.  Getting all that positive energy going in the same direction at the same time can't be a bad thing.  My group sponsored the trial run here with participation of groups from Guinea Bissau and Gambia as well as from various parts of Senegal.  The meetings had a lot of logistical obstacles to overcome before the forum actually got underway - about 3 hours later than planned.  But once we were in the flow even the frequent power outages did not deter the group from holding the first forum of its kind in Senegal.  The speeches were varied and ranged from frustrations over the lack of alternatives to violence, to talks of increased roles for women in the peace process, and the dissolving of border imposed by former colonial masters.  The entire event took place outside instead of air-conditioned conference rooms as is the norm here with such an intellectual crowd.

Taxi station

After my share of ant, fly, and spider bites each day I retired to the office to check emails and update whatever files were needed in Dakar.  The office 4x4 vehicle is on the road,with the team, so it has been taxis to and fro.  Taxis here are a story of their own.  Rickety, doors barely hanging on. dashboards decorated with Mother Mary statues, Sponge Bob Square Pants, and even pictures of favorite football players.  Never a dull ride. They do have seat belts but hard to imagine the car resisting a crash.  We never actually move more than 5 miles an hour because of the deep crater-like pot holes that are sprinkled throughout town.  Sounds irresponsible to even get into one of these vehicles but it is part of the social and physical reality.  Everyone else is doing it.  That'a good reason, right?

A long weekend ahead.  A text message just came in on my cell phone.  My group arrived safe sound. Tine to work on that Power Point for Thursday's meeting, look for a house, maybe skip lunch today and grab a snack as an excuse to talk with the ladies selling peanuts in the market. They always seem to have the latest news and unique insight on the situation as it evolves in this area.

Peace to my friends and family.

More background scenery

Featured here: Jean Paul Square - the city center - so named after Pope John Paul visited the city; One of many local buses - hot but efficient and only 60 cents; View from my office, and view of my incredibly bland office.

Casamance waters

Timescapes and Landscapes

Time is an illusion. Sometimes I tell myself that time is my best friend. Time is all that is needed to allow a situation to calm down or to rectify itself. But for time, the feeling does not seem to be mutual. I don’t care what scientists may say. Time is not some constant that eases, steadily, along some linear path. Time seems to have an agenda of its own making. Speeding up when we want it to slow down or dragging along painfully when we need desperately for events to change quickly in our favor.

The last few weeks I have been sitting on a precipice. Listening, learning, seeking insight, and understanding from those who have come before me and from those who are here now, throwing money, bullets, training workshops, marches, and political favors at the enormous and complex creature before us – with all the results you might imagine.

Today, Thanksgiving day, I went to work. We learned that it was a holiday only after we had confirmed meetings on Thursday and Friday. Anyway, I have had too many days off since I arrived. Five days off, out of the last ten to be exact. That may explain my obsession with time of late. At a late morning meeting with a colleague, the peacebuilding director of an international non-governmental organization, helped to set things into perspective. He gave accolades to me and my team for taking the time to show an interest in what has come before but quietly urged me to step from the role of the observer to the actor as soon as possible. “The earth,” he said, “is spinning a lot faster on our side than where you are standing now. The sooner you jump on board the faster your body learns to adjust or to desperately hang on while trying.”

My mentor, Jean Paul Lederach, used a lot of analogies when teaching how to gain perspective in a moment of crisis. He referred often to the river as a frame of reference. You step into it and instantly an entirely new body of water is flowing past you, through you. It’s only constant is change. “You can never step into the same river twice,” he would say. But what I took away most from that cliché-filled teaching was the part about perspective. While two people may stand debating whether the river is the same as the one they just stepped out of, another person, an observer, is standing on the edge of a bluff above, looking down. The observer sees the bends in the river, the perils and opportunities up river, and the course the waters have taken since crossing the path of the two debaters. The role of the outsider is to add new perspective to the same situation. It is not my role to change someone’s experience, nor their attachment to pain, revenge, or speed.

I am not sure I have chosen a bluff high enough to gain the kind of perspective Lederach advises, but I may not have the luxury of climbing higher anytime soon. Yesterday, international news outlets reported a shipment of Iranian arms that was intercepted in Nigeria. The client paying the bills is the Republic of Gambia, though the actual destination is the object of debate, accusation, and conjecture. But as our town sees a larger than normal sprinkling of armored convoys of small tanks, commandos units, and military ambulances, waiting, it would seem, for a final green light, it is hard to shake the feeling that time will be jumping forward very quickly and very soon, jerking me from my desk and arm chair analytical phase and proverbial mountain top into another sphere entirely.

I hope that I am able to find permanent housing and am given at least a week to unpack my bags so that I can at least pretend to live at home instead of at the office. My shipment of personal effects is due to arrive in Dakar at the end of the month. I am scheduled to look at three apartments this weekend. I have seen the pictures of one of them. Looks like a winner though it is much further from the river – and cooling evening breezes – than I would have liked.

Happy Thanksgiving to my friends and family in the United States and all those celebrating abroad.

Eid Mubarak or Bonne Fête de Tabaski

Hard for a vegetarian to talk about the feast of Tabaski without getting at least a little queasy.Today is the feast of the lamb - also known as the day of sacrifice. The celebration of the decision that Ibrahim or Abraham made to obey the Lord's instruction to sacrifice his favorite son. Most of you know the story from Genesis 22 in the Bible and in the Qu'ran under Surat Hajj verse 37 in the Qu'ran. For those of you who did not get exposure to either doctrines and are too young to have caught the Hollywood versions around Easter every year. The Lord rewards Abraham for his obedience at the last minute, providing a sheep for sacrifice instead. Later, sheep emerge again as a symbol of God's will. In Christianity, Christ is often portrayed as the lamb. In Islam, the Milky Way was created to provide guidance to the sheep to reach Ibrahim. To be a Muslim is to do the will of God and sheep continue to be a powerful symbol of obedience and faith in many religions that developed in that part of the world. I am no religious scholar but this is what friends and colleagues have pointed out to me in my travels and discussions.

Tabaski is a very big holiday here and staff productivity has dropped off considerably over the course of the past few days. One runs to the bank to get enough money for the upcoming festivities. Another runs to various shephard stands that have been set up throughout town selling sheep large and small. Reminds me of Christmas tree stands in my native Los Angeles. Yesterday afternoon, as I headed back from my $1 dollar lunch (crossing my fingers that my intestines will accommodate me), I walked passed a group of families washing their sheep, using lots of soap and water and really scrubbing the poor beasts to get them looking shiny and pretty. Pretty enough to eat, sure. But this is a spiritual act. It is a last rite and dedication at the same time.

I hope the sheep understand their role in all this. The Yaqui Indians of North America believe that animals sacrifice themselves to be of benefit to the tribe. The fact that they were hunted makes it no less of a sacrifice in the end when they finally render themselves. Sacrifice cannot be a one sided action. I recognize the power of today. My staff and I had a discussion about why I do not eat meat and the meaning of sacrifice from the perspective of the animals. It was a very revealing insight since most come from traditions in which animals are very much a part of the spiritual act. Dances imitating the attitudes and roles of animals in bringing balance to the spiritual and physical realm are pervasive in this part of Senegal. An overt association with a Muslim tradition is forbidden but a lot of knowing glances were exchanged when broaching the topic of what balance the sheep brings in making this sacrifice. One consensus was that the shedding of blood and the sharing of meat was a way to continue to live in harmony with one another. Women will prepare many bowls of rice, pasta, and meat that will be placed in front of their home. Street children will take some. Others will be given to those who are in need. Meat is also a rare commodity for most residents here. Fish is served daily because meat is too expensive. Another reason many give blessings for the sacrifices of today.

Many Senegalese will be headed to the mosques today in celebration of that spirit flowing through the air. But most Senegalese living in this region are not Muslim. They are Catholics or they practice their own indigenous religions. What of them? Well, that is a longer blog. But the short version is that I have heard many express openly, and with some defiance, that it is not THEIR holiday. Islam is dominant in the north and much of the conflict has been about how the north abandoned the south in terms of development or participation in political decisions. So, it is not surprising if some express disdain for a Muslim holiday. Looking just at my staff, I noticed that those of northern origins are celebrating and those from Casamance are not. The line does not cut so cleanly however. A good number of Casamançais are Muslims.

Religion aside, it is a widely celebrated secular holiday and the president declares it an official holiday every year- at the very last minute. Our staff only got confirmation a few hours before ending work on Tuesday. Tomorrow will also be a day off. The tradition requires that families eat a third, save a third, and share a third with a neighbor, more distant family, or friends. After that is done, it is time to get-on-down. Or as my friend Kury would say it "time to get tore up from the floor up." Discos all throughout town are going to be opening for the massive turnout that is expected.

All this revelry around food. Reminds of the fun we would have growing up in Los Angeles. Dancing after eating was par for the course. My mother would join my aunt in a jitter bug and even my 90-year old great uncle would cut a rug with his favorite nieces. Fun, warm, and spiritual. Can't beat that. Blessings to all.

Hogging the road

Today was my first day back at the office after a relatively smooth launch on Friday. I should have known better than to expect it to continue that way.

On Friday, the group and I had reached a consensus on the path forward. Nothing is set in stone. For now, we listen. We take stock of what has come before and what a great many individuals and organizations see as the way ahead. It is a path of humility and elicits trust and participation in designing this new map.

By Monday, it was another story altogether. I felt like the driver who calmly sets off to a chosen destination but is suddenly reminded by someone else in the car that he knows a better way, a short cut, an easier passage to our destination. He has taken it many many times before and it requires a lot less gas or effort. Friday's discussion was nice, but now the real work begins. And it is going to be a long next few weeks.

A book published by a Frenchman named Jean Claude Marut underscored the weakness of many programs funded by American, German, Spanish, and French donors in this region. He underscored that programming is routinely parachuted into a region and grassroots communities are encouraged to accept and adopt the new approaches and models. The community is encouraged to "take ownership" of the project When that happens, then the project is deemed to be on the right track, a success even. In reality, it is usually a management of expectations with a touch of curiosity. A new project offers entertainment to the curious living in remote communities and usually adds SOMETHING of genuine merit to the lives of the people living there. It also involves a great deal of work in addition to their already very challenging lives. So it would be nice if they got a vote in choosing what new way they would be improving their lives. But that takes a lot of effort.

Villages are remote. Getting there requires long trips on unpaved road, gliding slowly through bug-filled rivers under a very hot, unforgiving sun, and perhaps miles again on foot. It IS easier to pass through local NGOs who have expertise in "mobilizing" communities in these rural outposts. The Lederach pyramid looks good in a Friday afternoon presentation, but reality sinks in about the necessary time and effort we will have to put into this process. Monday's modifications propose a kinder gentler pyramid. But I am not throwing in the towel. The middle ground will be to find a way to agree to meet grassroots groups in more accessible locations. Not sure that is really middle ground for them, but it may be as much as my current staff can handle. For now.

I ran across this tree in the courtyard of my hotel. It is small; no taller than 15 or 20 feet. But the fruit on this tree is enormous. Each the size of a small watermelon. The branches are also fine. Thin compared to what might expect when you look at what this plant is asked to bear for months on end. And yet it manages. The fruit starts small. It grows gradually allowing the tree branches to manage a heavier and heavier load until finally it is able to accomplish what earlier seemed impossible. I will take some inspiration from this tree and allow the workload to grow at a gradual pace. Until finally, my team is able to bear what today seems impossible.

Proceed with caution

Made the flight to Ziguinchor. After a short mishap with my plane-side luggage being left behind on the tarmac overnight (groan!) . Today I was reunited with all three pieces. My faith in Senegalese luggage handlers restored. My hotel has an amazing view of the Ziguinchor river. This picture of the modified port is even more romantic at night - the only time anyone actually sits outside to eat and socialize. Tonight is salsa night at the hotel's club. Looking forward to that.

A pair of overly affectionate mosquitoes made a special appearance at 3 a.m. this morning to remind me that I had had enough sleep and that it was time to prepare for my first day on the job. After months of rolling blackouts and then a solid month without power and uncertainties about the leadership of the peace process, the staff had understandably lost some of the wind in their sails, especially when they compare the staff strength and comforts of the teams in Dakar.

The minute I walked in the door, I found myself on the morning's agenda to make a full pitch to the entire staff about the strategy and what lies ahead in the coming months. Thank you mozzies!

I must say that I am very honored to have a staff with such a rich experience in community organizing and intimate knowledge of the key players in the conflict here. The presentation went very smoothly with lots of nodding heads and smiles of recognition of work they have done before but never associated it with mapping a path to an actual peace agreement. Not surprisingly, the only difficulty came when I underscored the need to have a common understanding of recurrent terms as basic as peace process, conflict resolution, conflict management, and peace accord.

These expressions are terms of art in the peace community in which I learned them, but the way they are lived and understood in this theater is evidently very different. As a practice, I want to avoid prescribing meaning to expressions like peace, conflict, and resolution because when you have lived in Africa's oldest conflict for the past 28 years, you have probably heard these terms batted around by dozens of international organizations who disembark with fancy tools and talk to implement a two or three-year project and then leave with the situation more or less the same as they found it.

One observation the staff made was that conflicts here have been handled and managed but rarely resolved. Another was that any progress toward a cessation of fighting has never been consolidated. All these terms are laden with lots of political promises and suggest that the local population has been kept at arms length, restricted from participating in mapping the path to peace. Bridging the gap between distant observer and architect will be our first order of business.

Looking forward to the weekend. Monday, the government has promised to install two new diesel powered generators to provide the city with steady power. Things may be looking up. I hope someone remembered to buy the diesel. Night.

Rest stop

Senegal has been a delight to discover. The people are very welcoming and proud of their country and its history.

The entire staff pays into central pot and gets lunch catered every day on the roof-top deck of our building. It is usually fish but also grilled lamb and chicken served with white or what my mom's era would call dirty rice - a rice cooked in a rich broth or sauce. The Senegalese seem to like their meals well oiled. Maybe it is easier to digest that way. Every meal is fairly heavy with lots of white rice and meat and very very few vegetables. If vegetables do don the plate then they are cooked well past the point of holding onto their original form. The palate here shies away from hot peppers. And while people eat out of a single dish at home using only their hands, the etiquette at work seems to require the use of spoons. Obesity is very rare. I look forward to learning their secret?

Each day we are treated to a new kind of juice. The favorites so far are Bissap and Ginger - both Wolof words meaning hibiscus and well, yes, you guessed it, ginger. We may also drink monkey bread juice a.k.a bread fruit, can't recall its Wolof name. All good and refreshing and never served with the meal. The fruit juices arrive at the end when everyone is finished eating and represent a type of desert since they contain a lot of added sugar.

Another fruit that is of particular interest - because it is completely new to me - is Ditakh. It is pronounced with a harsh scratchy sound at the end.
Ditakh looks like a potato and I have seen it a number of times in the marketplace and never really took notice. It was not until someone brought some to the house and invited us to make a batch that I slowly brought myself to taste this green potato-shaped fruit. We opened a couple and tasted the pulp to get an idea before immersing a dozen or so in a basin of water for a few hours. What emerged was a delicious, very green beverage that is high in vitamin C and tastes a little like Kiwi. Very flavorful but too acidic for my stomach. I recommend it to anyone traveling through Senegal. One more adventure to add to the list of more to come.

My departure to Ziguinchor has been delayed still another day. I hope now to fly to Casamance on Thursday morning. I was informed that my bags were too heavy for the small 20-seater plane that flies from Dakar to Ziguinchor, so I went to the port today to drop off my bags and hope to retrieve them on the other side. I have had bad experiences with luggage in Africa, with luggage handlers frequently stealing the contents of bags between the plane and the arrival depot. Sending my belongings unaccompanied for an 11-hour boat ride took a leap of faith. Everyone assured me that the company is responsible and takes care of all personal belongings, so I will allow this new experience to be another opportunity to change my perception of travel and security in Africa. The ferry is enormous and transports thousands of people on the overnight journey.

I look forward to giving the journey a try when I have more time on my hands and a partner interested in exploring Senegal with me. That time will certainly come in February when my girlfriend Jenny joins me here for 10-days or so. That day is still a long way away. I have a lot of work to do before a time comes when free time and leisure will be affordable. There are still many eyes on me. Looking forward to my arrival but also anticipating what I may or not do. I am looking for them to make the first move and I have received an invitation to meet the local authorities to talk briefly about why I am here. We as a team have had to work out a series of "Questions that may enflame" and have gone over potential answers to ensure that we are given a chance to earn the trust of the communities that have seen many people come to the region waving banners of peace and simply counted the days until their departure. My intention was to ask them what they are trying and starting by reinforcing existing efforts. But there are lots of cooks already stirring that soup with similar or contradictory intentions. Leaving the road most traveled is, I believe, the only way to make a difference here. It will take time to convince my staff of that. If I cannot gain their trust in our approach, we will have a rocky road ahead for sure.

In the meantime. A votre soif!!! (To your thirst)

Stretching my legs

A lot of people have asked if I felt uneasy settling down in South Bend. That my history of traveling every few years must have been in response to the call of the road. I think that was true once. Once upon a time, I did get restless if I could not reinvent myself in a new physical and social setting and watch the errors, shames, pride, and misadventures of my past wash away with each passing mile. Walked up to the immigrations desk, slid my passport into the slot of its glass cubicle, and asked myself - who am I this time? What new personality trait will shine in this new social and physical setting? I think it is that malleability that makes it easy to adapt to new surroundings.

This time around, I felt a little less willing to bend and molt into a new entity. I left for Darfur a few years ago with just a dozen shirts and pants, some music, and my laptop. This time around l took some of South Bend with me. Leaving friends and family was harder than it has ever been. I packed a lot of small things that would give me a little more comfort like a spring mattress, rice protein, vitamins, and some choice food favorites because this time my South Bend self does not want to shed so much baggage. This time, I am ready to continue to carry the man I have come to know with me abroad. My mind tells me that I do this because he is the right man for the job that awaits me, but I recognize the attachments to the familiar and decreased flexibility that comes with age.

Yesterday was the first test of that man's ability to perform in this new setting. I sat across the table from a man who spoke with conviction about why I should forget about trying to get all sides to the negotiation table. He did his best to paint one party as vicious, blood thirsty killers. "It's their nature," he said, "they are naturally violent people." And so on. I remember a technique that one of my professors at Notre Dame used to elicit discovery. He would put a question to the classroom and wait for the answer. After a short pause, he would cross his legs and just sit there. The silence was stifling. At some point we students would feel compelled to say something to break through the anxiety. I find this method works equally well when trying to coax out someone's position on a given conflict. I think that the fact that I am a foreigner here made him all the more interested in "educating" me. I am still in the beginning stages of learning what role I can play here but we have at least one mile marker to add to our map. The coming weeks will add many more as I stroll through the landscape of the characters, big and small, who play some role in helping or hindering this map from taking shape.

Burning the midnight oil tonight as I prepare a presentation to the head of mission on the history of interventions into the conflict zone and what we should try to do different. Just a jumble of ideas at this stage. I travel to conflict area on Wednesday and look forward to start my search for a place to settle down and get comfortable for the long road ahead. Until then, good night.

Starting blocks - arrival in Dakar

It has been a tumultuous past few weeks, getting the administrative details ironed out just 24 hours before leaving the country on November 2nd and arriving in the west African nation of Senegal at 5:00 am today.

The flight was uneventful but the arrival was a tad ridiculous. Leaving the flight, we arrive on the tarmac and were met with airport agents sent to verify that we have the right to disembark. First time I have t0 show proof that I had the right to exit an airplane. But okay. After getting my luggage and passing all the luggage through a scanner (designed I suppose to screen potential drug traffickers and illegal firearms entering the country), I see a man holding a sign with my name. Good so far. But then as I exit the airport four young men come to help me with my luggage - actually they just walk along side me - and claim that they are with the driver. But when we arrive at the car, they ask for a tip Suddenly I realize that they were just posers. I give them a few dollars to change into local currency and they pretend that it is not enough and do not return with any change. Finally the driver intervenes and all the money is returned. I have experienced far worse in other airports, so no harm done. Now in my hotel room watching the sun rise and contemplating how this blog will evolve.

I started this web log to help keep my friends up to date on my experiences abroad but also to help me to reflect on my path. Work details will remain vague but I hope to paint a clear enough image of the political and cultural conditions and my personal life in Senegal to give an idea of the stakes involved in the work I am doing here.

I used the title "road map" because that is what I hope to help evolve during my time here. Maps are living documents. The creative process involved in generating any kind of road map is very interactive, inclusive, and interpretive. The types of monuments, side interests, natural and human-made features along a given stretch of road are subjective and will vary from one community to another. Road maps reflect the perceptual reality of a people. It lays out what is important to them. It tells us how to get from point A to point B but it includes identity, cultural pride, and communal promotion. Impossible to imagine a foreigner drawing up such a map. It is the product of open dialogue, unspoken gestures, hidden knowledge, and social acquiescence. I hope to be a stimulus for the emergence of such a road map in Senegal relying on local civil society groups to lead the way.

Finally got the room temperature of the room to an acceptable 80 degrees. Time for a shower and will attempt to head to the office for at least a 1/2 day. I only have a couple of days in the capital before I leave for the southern town of Ziguinchor this weekend.