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.