New phase in Senegal

I have lived in places where I did not get power or water for months on end, but Senegal is not such a place.  They have benefited from a stronger support base, non-violent transitions in power, and strong outside investment, until recently.  The downturn in the world economy has meant that a poorly run government can no longer keep up with shortages and increasing demands for fuel, food, and jobs.  Past incidents of corruption went unnoticed against the backdrop of relative comfort and stability.  Now that the veil has been lifted, and the population has seen the effectiveness of violent outcries for change.  We can expect to see a shift in Senegal.  

Last week, members of parliament critiqued the proposed bill not because they were genuinely against President Wade's idea for a new format of government and elections. They verbally criticized it because they feared that their families, homes, and cars would be harmed, burned, or looted. Several close aides to the head of state had faced this same fate that evening.  The fear in the eyes of those in government has been laid bare for all to see.  The disgruntled youth have opened the proverbial political Pandora's box, and now, only shrewd, presidential leadership can steer Senegal away from this precipice of brinkmanship and mob rule.

Last night youth burned several government buildings including city hall and three electric power offices when the city was plunged into 48 hours of darkness.  As I said before, hardly a hardship foreign to its neighbors, but to the Senegalese, it is a step too far in the wrong direction. Today the US Embassy issued this warning to people living in Dakar:

"Violent demonstrations erupted overnight in various neighborhoods of Dakar.  While last week’s demonstrations (specifically those on June 23rd) focused on a controversial law regarding the upcoming Presidential elections, demonstrations last night focused on public frustration over continued and increasing power outages in Dakar.  While power cuts are not a new phenomenon, their frequency and duration have increased in recent months.  In addition, it should be noted that two separate churches were torched over the weekend in separate locations near Dakar.  While not related to the issue of power cuts, it is an indication of ongoing unrest and the possibility of violence.

The demonstrations last night quickly became violent, with protestors throwing rocks, burning tires, torching cars and buses, and blocking roads.  Further demonstrations are planned today, which may target various sites in the city and/or the offices of Senelec (the national electricity company.)  Demonstrations in other locations could occur without prior notice, and demonstrations of this nature may continue in the coming days.

Travel plans should be amended to account for the possibility of continued protests and/or ensuing violence and delays in these affected areas. We remind U.S. citizens that even demonstrations intended to be peaceful can quickly and without much advance warning turn confrontational and escalate into violence. The Embassy, therefore, urges U.S. citizens to avoid crowds, political gatherings, and street demonstrations, even if they appear to be peaceful, and to exercise caution if within the vicinity of any demonstrations. If indoors when a demonstration begins, shelter in place until it is safe to move about. U.S. citizens should stay current with media coverage of local events and be aware of their surrounding at all times."


It is not an overly alarming message.  No one expects matters to get out of hand. Not today.  But we are all keeping our eyes on the political leadership to steer this ship to a safer harbor.

No Silence, No dialog

Dialog is a powerful tool.  We see it used across the dinner table, pillow talk, between strangers on a city bus, and in more formal formats as a means of self expression and vehicles to arrive at mutual understanding, conflict management, and to effect a change in behavior and amelioration of circumstances to put us back into right relation. 

Dialog is an important lesson for our youth to learn.  It is a tool within each of us.  It is a power to wield for change.  It is a tool that may enable each of us to help mold our environment into a substance that nourishes the soul and our society. When we lose sight of that fact, dialog seems like a less viable option compared to violence.

In Dakar and in some many capital cities today, the youth have lost faith in the power of dialog and resort to public displays of violence to make their point, effect a change in behavior, and assert their power.  They have an impact.  People recoil and react in fear, not with understanding or compassion.  But they react they do. Concession are made and the lesson is learned.

Unfortunately for this youth, this generation, such is not the lesson that will serve them or their people.

Today our office in Dakar closed early to allow our staff to return home early.  The city seems to be burning. Many embassies remained closed and encouraged other US-funded organizations to send their staff home early so that they may reach home before nightfall when more looting and violence is expected.  The main roads leading from the peninsula into the suburbs where the majority of the people live have been closed or blocked by burning tires and police barricades. The government has made concessions but apparently that gesture is not enough. The lessons of Libya, Tunisia, Egypt, Syria, and Yemen have shown that impressive public displays will sway public officials to make other decisions. The anger is spreading to other failures of the government. It appears that this is not the end. 

Tomorrow is a new day.  New days bring new promises, so I remain optimistic and hopeful for a return to dialog.

A week of turmoil

I went to bed late last night after a long bout to restore any data left on my laptop.  After 9 faithful years and several days of triage, rebooting, reloading, and everything else short of mouth to mouth, it finally gave up the ghost.  I bought a new hard drive and DVD to replace the damaged parts.  It looks the same from the outside but it is not the same Fujitsu Lifebook P Series that has seen me through some pretty sketchy environments and kept me in touch with friends and family. I had done what I could to keep clean and looking good on the outside but on the inside, it was breaking down slowly and in serious need of a total overhaul.  I was too late in recognizing that truth.  Hopefully the Senegalese government will have better luck.  
Early last week the government bill to introduce the office of the vice presidency under the pretense of helping to avoid costly election should the head of state die or otherwise find himself incapable of carrying out the functions of his office.  I mentioned the polemics around that topic.  Well, they were really only the tip of the iceberg.    Senegal has long been the darling of the West.  A beacon of democracy in West Africa.  But like my laptop, despite the efforts to keep up appearances, the insides had started to break down over a decade ago and an overhaul is needed to put the country back on more stable ground.

President Wade is 85 years old and is intending to run for another 7 years.  He was the first president ever to be truly elected by the people of Senegal.  France appointed Leopold Senghor, the first president, during its colonial rule and he carried Senegal into independence.  Senghor then modified the constitution to appoint Abdou Diouf as president when he felt he was no longer able to continue to do his job.  Therefore, Wade emerged as the first real challenge -an outsider and lifetime opposition leader with bright ideas.  Expectations ran very high after his 2000 election.  He made many lofty promises and today the population is disappointed and wary that this new law is simply an attempt to allow him to choose his successor, possibly even his son. No one envisions that he would like to serve out another 7 years in office, so they wholly anticipate that he will win the 2012 elections and shortly thereafter surrender his post to his vice-president who would then appoint his own vice-president.

The tensions over this issue have been building: Today the US Embassy asked Americans to stay clear of Dakar if possible to avoid possible violent confrontations expected in the city and around the parliament building where elected officials will be debating and voting on the proposed bill.

This morning thousands of youth descended into the city, placing piles of burning tires in the main entrance points to the city to block all access via bus or car. Reports are coming in of demonstrations around the country but none in the Casamance region where I suppose we have our own more pressing issues that we want to keep in the spotlight.  As I type this, my colleague burst into my office to tell me that the youth managed to smash open the gates to the parliament building.  They are trying to gain entry into the building to force out all the Parliamentary Members and prevent a vote.  Tensions rising still.

I also received an email informing me that I am to expect a termination letter from my employer and an employment letter from the organization that acquired us a few weeks ago.  Not just me, of course.  All of us here at the organization are in the same situation.  I am sure that it will lead to some heated debates especially if the terms are not the same.

Interesting times indeed.

Power politics

As a human being, I have to admit that I am a creature of habit.   We all seem to thrive on pattern and our ability to predict and recognize them for emotional and physical survival.  I remember my statistics professor at Hunter College in New York city telling my class that the human species has evolved successfully because of this ability, so don't be surprised if you find some patterns in your scramble to derive meaning from the jumble of statistical data in your social science research.  Hey, it was the 90s!  Anthropology was trying to justify its existence as a science by backing up its claims with hard, crunchable numbers. Fun times actually, but, as it turns out,  a questionable use of our time.

 
Then, fast forward a couple of decades.

In the past few months a new pattern has emerged.  I come home at 7pm or so.  I make dinner, get settled to eat and watch a film on Itunes or break open one of the many peacebuilding books that made the voyage with me.  Most of the books are from the Lynne Rienner Publishers series - great publications by the way.  Stellar really empirical stuff that lays out the findings of other practicioners and should be required reading for any budding or seasoned peacebuilder.  No sooner than the opening credits start to roll or the chapter contents start to flow in my mind, do we experience a power cut.  Unlike the capital Dakar where these outages are scheduled, ours come unannounced and last for an undetermined amount of time.  Sometimes 4 hours; Sometimes 6 hours.  I can imagine the agent with his hand on the master switch trying to guess how many hours it will take to get almost everyone to go to bed and stop putting a drain on the limited power grid here.  It is getting to be quite amusing.  Instead of giving up, most people in Ziguinchor have adapted coping skills that include taking naps or gathering outside in the cool night breeze for casual or heated conversations about everything from wedding and funeral plans to why we continue to support a government that can give tens of millions away to build an inspirtional statue or to reward a champion wrestler but will not fix the power grid. And why some neighborhoods never get power cuts. The point is that the local population seems willing to put their lives on hold and wait out that master switch for as long as necessary.  A bit of one upmanship.  And that pattern is spreading.

Election season is just 5 months away and we are already starting to get visits from prominent politicians to rally voters under the party banner.  Mind you, these visitors are actually locally elected mayors, deputy mayors and the like, so we would normally see them on a regular basis, but here - as in many French-systems of government - it is possible to hold many different posts simultaneously.  So the mayor is also the minister of industry, the minister of defense, or the interior.  It is not hard to imagine which position takes precedence.  Most constituents never see their representatives at all until election time rolls around.  Recently the mayor came to present his party's platform and not 10 minutes into his presentation, the city power went out.  It was in the middle of the day, so it seemed to be timed specifically to stop the rally's sound system for the fancy bands and high-profile speakers from being heard.

Today we got our first real downpour, after 8 months without a drop.  I am told that classrooms will likely be nearly empty and absenteeism will reach a record high this week as families rush to prepare their fields for an early rainy season.  Casamance is the breadbasket of Senegal and everyone here has crops that need tending and rize fields to mould and plant.  It will be interesting to see if we manage to retain the participation of community members with such a compelling distraction competiting with our unreasonable schedule.

Today the president pushed through a bill that would mandate that the next presidential elections feature presidential and vice-presidential candidates American style.  Opposition leaders have long accused the president of trying to usher his son into the presidency, suggesting that he was grooming him for power when he was appointed the head of half a dozen ministries, when he failed to win the mayoral race in the nation's capital.  Today's news shook the political pundits and made everyone wonder if the old man would actually dare to run on a father son ticket.  Others posited that he would find a loop hole to get his son into the presidency by having a puppet vice president step aside.   It is all smoke and mirrors here in Senegal at the moment. The President traveled to the G8 summit and managed to get his son in a room with Obama at a meeting reserved to heads of state and staged a highly publicized handshake. Shortly thereafter the president of Senegal is meeting with the rebel movement in Libya and asking the Libyan leader - and former best friend - to step down from power. It is difficult to tell fact from fiction.  But I am starting to see a pattern...

Enjoy the rain.  I am.

A day in the life

The past week has been full of social time.  Social time with a 3 week-old new born just looking around amazed at every new phenomenon in the world around him; social time with his parents who return now to their home in Bissau, the capital of Guinea Bissau (GB), after giving birth in a hospital in Dakar.  GB is many times poorer than Senegal, so there is a lot of traffic between the two countries.  People travel north to Casamance or even further north to Dakar to buy goods and services not available at home and drugs, guns, and other contraband cross the border headed even futher north to Europe or to other markets in Africa.  Guinea Bissau became a beachhead for the Colombian drug cartels over 20 years ago and has since been able to control the Bissau Guinean national government by corrupting the its military.  It is as close to a failed state as you can imagine.  Even Somalia has an international community that at least gives a damn. 

The border to Guinea Bissau is just 10 minutes from my house by bicycle.  So if you have the option available to you,  you decide to have the baby in Dakar and go home afterwards.  Guinea Bissau is a Portuguese speaking country and has all that latin flavor that I love plus the African cultural vibe, so really the best of two worlds.  A violent revolution to gain its independence from Portugal in the mid-70s (they were one of the last colonies in Africa) and a rough climb out of underdevelopment, combined with the overthrow of several governments with the help of outside parties, and the weight of the drug trade have made Guinea Bissau a miracle of sorts.  It is a miracle that the country functions at all. I have not yet had the pleasure of crossing over for a weekend, ,but a trip to GB is in the works once the young couple has had a chance to settle into their lives made new with the arrival of their son.

Social time was spent as well with another couple and their one year old daughter who never fails to marvel. The father is a desginer of batik clothing and wall hangings.  The mother works for a local non-profit.  They have a cat (who seems to return with a new injury every weekend) that they named Batik.   Social time with him is usually just a quick pet on the head and a few caresses to say hello. But I was more interested in the new members of the family - two hens and a rooster - and the fact that they (ncluding the cat) all ate from the same bowl.  Animal-animal and animal-human relations just seem to operate a little differently from my expectations.  It was amazing to see a hen sleeping against a cat just hours after they first met.  Clearly communication is taking place on another level that is imperceptible to us humans.  Fun. I just had to take a picture.

I traveled wth the little one-year old and her father to a local festival near their house.  One of the resident artists of the nieghborhood of Lindjane organized a cultural festival out of his house and front yard.  He organized a battle of the drums, performances of local music bands, set his family up as cooks and drink distributors, invited rap and DJ artists, and launched a neighborhood tournament of traditional wrestling - a crowd pleaser for sure. Wrestling is a tradition among a number of African cultural groups.  Martial arts are so readily associated with Asia that people are usually surprised when I posit that all cultures have a martial art.  Art means practice or skill.  And unfortunately most cultures have honed their skills in the practice of fighting.  There are many different martial arts in Africa.  In Casamance, it is wrestling.  And that martial art took on a new dimension when the Diola tradition was popularized on national television.  Now people bet heavily on natioalilly televised bouts.  My neighborhood erupts with cries of joy when the local favorite wins.  It was a fun afternoon and we were treated to two rounds of wrestling where the little guy always seemed to have an advantage over the taller favorites.

The little girl scurried about, touching everything in sight and flirting for a good 30 minutes with the idea of trying to touch a vervet monkey that the owner had tied to a post to avoid problems during the festival  She also spend a good amount of time coveting low hanging mangos and would have eaten them on the stem, if she had been strong enough to break the skin on her own.  Obviously hungry, she returned home for a battle with mom to get the food into the mouth.  :-)  I returned the following day to make batiks and learned that most of the batik crew had been up until 5 am dancing to the drums and music.  I cannot manage that kind of stamina but it seemed like a lot of fun. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.  Thoughts of conflict, job contracts, and other woes were far far away last weekend.  I hope for more of the same.  I am including more of the photos of that weekend including shots of that mango with little teeth marks that demonstrate her earnest efforts to take a bite.

Enjoy!

On the outside looking in

 I live in a working class neighborhood.  That means dirt and uneven roads mostly with the random cement brick apartment building among the mudbrick homes that dominate the landscape.  When you take a taxi anywhere in the city, the easiest way to indicate your destination is to name the closest school.  Oddly enough, some neighborhoods here take the name of the school and not the other way around.  My place holder is École Amed Barrry - an elementary school with mudbrick walls and green painted wooden shutters that have been feeding generations of termites since they were first attached to the glassless window frames in 1995. 

Each morning, the tradition is reborn. Old women position themselves at the entrance to the school sitting on small wooden stools, they arrange their assortments of dried fruit, peanuts, and fried sweet dough for sale to the kids whose parents did not have time to feed them before they left home. It is a swift and apparently lucrative business. On more than one occassion, I have seen two women bickering over who arrived first, pushing their small round platters as close as possible to the rickety rusted gate that you have to lift to close.  Little kids crowd around, fingering the precious 5 cents that will bring a tasty treat before school starts. Others finish their breakfast before entering.  French baguettes with some form of spread inside is the usual fare.  It is amazing to watch these tiny 4 or 5 year old kids finish off a foot-long baguette on their own.

On days when I am running late, the commotion in front of the school has all but vanished and left behind are idle boys or girls standing on their tippy toes trying to see what is happning inside.  Are they the odd sibling that was not allowed to go to school or are they looking for an accomplice for a day off?  I remember how jealous I was when my sister first went to school.  We were inseparable at home but somehow she was able to tear herself away to go to school?  That just did not seem fair.  Or even conceivable.  Watching these kids linger just outside the reach of an education makes me conjure an entire story around each one.  Yesterday I stopped to share a small pouch of peanuts and asked why he was not going in?  "Oh, I go to another school," came the reply. Then why aren't you there? "I like this school better.  I am not a little kid." Je suis pas une gosse he insisted.  So we sat there finishing the pouch and watching the taxis and wagons roll down the only really smooth street in the city.  His name is Emmanuel.  And I am not sure if he ever made to his school at that morning.  But he sure gave me the desire to skip work, just for one day. 

I am sorry to miss so many days with you all. About two weeks ago the blogosphere collapsed and I was not able to upload any new stories.  Then when I WAS able to log on, I had fallen out of practice.  

On April 27, the director of my unit called me to inform me that they were having thoughts about shutting down my unit or perhaps just phasing out my position since the nature of the program had changed and they could no longer really justify someone with my expertise (and pay level).  The conversation was polite and considerate.  Since I started this program, none of the senior staff has had any experience or training in peacebuilding or conflict work at all.  My component therefore has been the hardest to sell and poorly represented when senior staff met with the donor or the general public.  It has been an uphill battle and one that, it seemed, would soon come to an end.  "Your notice letter is just about ready.  You should be receiving it soon," she said with kind consderation for my predicament.  

Well, soon is now a month later.  And I have no idea if another month will roll by before I have a clearer idea of my status.  At least I am guaranteed 4-weeks notice and I will be able to use that time to prepare my replacement who I assume will be a host country national. Work has picked up tremendously and I am enjoying the challenges of everyday meetings with civil society, local authorities, and chance encounters with rebel representatives hoping for some sign that we are still on board.  In the meantime, I am enjoying bouncing through town on my bicycle. 

Each time I survive a nasty pothole or a plane of sharp rocks my thoughts and thanks go to Scott in Mishawaka who promised me that the tires would be all but imprenetrable.  You were right Scott.  Wish you were here to celebrate your feat of invincibility with me. Scott passed away a few days ago due to complications with MS.  He was an amazing giving man.  Rest in peace Scott.  You will be missed.

Finding a way forward together

On my way to work a week ago,  I saw two donkeys struggling to make progress. They were both lashed to a wagon carrying 10 very large bags of cement.   One donkey was leaning his entire body weight to the right, his hooves scrapping on the uneven pavers to pull the wagon to make a right turn,  The other donkey had its head down pulling with all his might to go straight.  All the while, the owner whipped them both from behind but with a mixed message.  The one to pull harder to the right and the other to stop pulling straight.  Not sure the guys were getting the message.


The scenario reminded me of how awful a work environment can be if everyone does not find consensus in the way they work together.

Last week, we held a workshop to prepare civil society groups for an upcoming forum and today I am training my staff on how to develop an action plan.  We will face a particularly arduous task of developing an action plan for a group of people and organizations who work in the field but cannot work together for various political and inter-personel reasons. I am looking forward to the challenge.  The meeting was rescheduled to make sure all the bells and whistles are in place.

This morning I got an omen of sorts.  On my usual morning commute, I passed the same cart and donkeys.  This time, the donkey who knew the way was free (unattached) running a few paces ahead, while the donkey pulling the cart followed, smoothly without either critter getting the whip. How is that for team work?  Not sure how the owner figured out that solution, but I pray for that kind of inspired genious, when 65 organizations pour into the conference room for a 2-day session next Wednesday.  I am putting the final touches on the training module now.  Wish me luck!

April fools

Today, I thought i would take a break from the search for tools just to catch up on the day-to-day.  The great relief I experienced from the constant wind off the Casamance river is dissipating as we edge closer to the hot and humid season known here as hivernage (winter).  It is still a good three months away but the days of high temperatures and low humidity and cool nights are being replaced with slightly lower temperatures and much higher humidity. The heat is the central topic of discussion among strangers on a crowded bus or shared taxi.  Across the brows and glowing exposed arms and shoulders of people on the street, you seen a sheen from the sweat.  The streets have less hustle and bustle.  The energy is more lethargic.  People just seem to have less 'pep in their step' as my grandmother used to say.  That may be due in part to Lent, which people celebrate here by fasting all day and eating only at night.  Regardless, life is noticeably slowing down. 

The slower pace of life here and now takes me back to when I lived in D.C. At the end of my day, I would pat my metro card on the electronic reader and skip through the open doors to await the red line train traveling north to Cleveland Park.  D.C. moves at an established pace.  I don't know who the pace setters are but the pulse is umistakable.  I remember the unspoken rule about how quickly you needed to go up or down the escalators or stairs or through the doors of the metro trains when they arrived. During tourist season, I could feel the disgust and sometimes hear a disaproving "tsk" or two from "regulars" when someone moved too slowly or stood on the left side of the escalator reserved for those coveting the option of walking up the incredibly long and steep climb at Dupont circle North.  When I emerged at street level, I felt another impetus to race to my apartment. People walked fast, passing me on the sidewalks in a dash to reach home first.  To do what?  Start enjoying life? Perhaps work was so foreign to life's greater purpose that only at home in surroundings that defined us could we start to feeling like we were fullfilling that special purpose. Can't really speak to the motivation of others. I think I was just fitting into the cultural buzz that was D.C.  On the Hill, we were presented with impossible tasks and ludicrous deadlines. But we got it done and moved onto the next challenge.  It made for a pretty heady, competitive, and energized work environment that followed me and my workmates home.  By 8 pm, an hour of yoga and meditation put things back into perspective just in time for the evening radio show (no television for me) followed by a quiet dinner of stir-fried delights over ginger rice.

Here my days are no less stressful but far less competitive.  The stress comes from timelines designed in Washington and forced upon a social landscape that moves according to a different rhythm.  I arrive at 8 am, check emails, meet with staff, plan excursions to the field, cut corners to meet the donors' needs, and spend lots of time painting a picture in words of what kinds of processes are unfolding as a product of our work.  It seems that peacebuilding work is 10% action and 90% report writing.  That is a gross exageration of course.  It is really closer to 99% action and 1% writing, because the real work is what is happening among the people grappling with conflict, with dialog, acceptance, truth, forgiveness, justice, and inclusion in decisions about the course of their lives.  Doing justice to that process in a 15-page monthly report is the challenge.  I stay late most days, glancing time and again to watch the fishing boats return to the harbor - a sign that I need to leave today's demands for tomorrow - and hail a rickety yellow taxi for my bouncy commute home.  Climbing out of the taxi at the edge of a road too difficult for most taxis to navigate, I walk two blocks very slowly down a mango tree-lined street, pausing often to salute families sitting outside waiting for temperatures to drop.  Boys playing soccer in the street prepare to make their separate ways home. A deep breath of relief and satisfaction.  Another beautiful sunset. 

Today began like any other.  No pranks at work (so far).  Maybe April fools day is safely thousands of miles away.  But when I think of the manic pace of life on other horizons, of the life I used to lead and perhaps will do so again sometime, it is hard not to wonder, if I am the fool for sometimes craving the pulse of American cities.  A wise teacher once told me that it is good to acknowledge my desires and realize my relationship to them, without grasping, without forcing.  Life has already set the pace.  It is up to me to recognize my place among its complex rhythms and simplicity of design,

Hope you find that understanding in your lives as well.  

Part two - in praise of tools

In my kitchen, I have about 10 cans of tuna.  When I am feeling particularly vulnerble or just plain tired, I like to whip up a pot of tuna and pasta which I usually follow with a comatose quality nap.  Given the recent numerous frustrations I have faced here, I have, on more than one occasion, reached for the cans of tuna, only to recall that I did not have the foresight to buy a can opener.

A unique phenonmenon in most African countries is that almost nothing is sold in its intended volume.  You can buy one cigarette, one wedge of laughing cow cheese, and even tiny plastic bags of tomato paste or peanut butter at a price most of the clients can afford.  It defnintely increases the amount of packaging and trash but it brings just about everything you can imagine within reach, just in smaller doses.  Having given up on finding small bags of tuna, I have gone into a dozen stores looking for a can opener only to encounter the same face blank faces, raised shoulders, and suggestions to check the guy across the street.  Nope, not there either.  The hunt continues but as you have probably already guessed, every life experience told in this blog leads to a larger life lesson.

Tools are a big deal in most parts of the world.  I know women dig tools too, but they are decidedly a male thing in the United States.  The New York Times does a huge spread advertising deals on tool boxes, new wrenches, and tool accessories every Father's Day.  Never mind  the fact that most guys today never touch the stuff.  My girlfriend could hardly conceal a chuckle, when I told her that I needed new tools to make the needed changes in my life and career.  She was not objecting to the idea, but the idea of a tooling up seemed a tad, well, mechanical for something as fragile as peace work or someone's life.  Yet, tools are huge.

USAID's agency on Conflict Mangement and Mitigation, the US Institute of Peace, and many other national and international organizations have published reams of manuals on how to manage conflict. These toolkits - as they are actually called - underscore the potential pitfalls of a particular approach and recommend possible ways around thorny issues and problems, drawing on the experiences of other organizations that have been there before me.  When I first set out on this search, I was certain that a toolkit with my name on it was just around the digital google search corner. And there are a lot of excellent kits out there.  Accord has a great publication series that covers every angle of peace talks in various parts of the world.  CMM's toolkits are concise and provide good recommendations that I believe any field practitioner should heed. But I was still finding myself falling short of the type of approach needed to avoid some of the attention I drew in Darfur, Rwanda, and Senegal thus far. Plus none of the toolkits really addresses the question of what to do when operating in hostile territory, when key political interests in the government do not want you there?

Epiphanies come at strange moments for me. I have the habit of carrying a pen and pad of paper for just such occasions. I scratched the barely legible words "same tools, smaller doses" during my bumpy taxi ride home. It is still a work in progress but I like the idea of small and accessible.  I look forward to developing it into something "bigger," but is definitely going to be our approach.  Same goals, same outcomes, but workng in doses small enough not to ruffle political feathers and big enough to bring measureable change to the conflict climate in which I work.  I look forward to breaking this down in my next installment.

Afternoon comatose naps are overrated anyway.

Part One - Come equipped

This morning I left my apartment and waited in my usual spot for a yellow taxi to take me on my daily 15-minute commute to work. A small child appeared on the other side of the road. He could not have been more than 5 years old.  He looked left and right.  A car passed,  A moped moved slowly across the intersection.  A few bicycles struggled across the many potholes in the road.  And the boy waited.  I admired his cautious attention to traffic.  He kept looking right and left and right again.  Bicycles blocks away were enough to make him hesitate. I imagined a mother taking her child aside and drilling him on the perils of road crossing - perhaps to excess because this child was literally frozen in his tracks. After 10 minutes of this, I crossed the road, offered my hand and we crossed together.  The boy remained at my side for a bit, looked up, and then decided that he could make the rest of the way on his own.  The school was less than 20 feet away.  I think it took him another 10 minutes to get that far.  I cannot say for certain.  I had found a taxi and was on my way as the boy stooped to examine an interesting pebble.  Everyday is an adventure worthy of exploration when one is a child. Such a blessing to have that kind of outlook on life.

I feel like I got a second chance to look on the world with new eyes, the day I walked out of the Joyce Center auditorium and returned my rented graduation cap and gown.  I felt ready to tackle the world.  I had already spent nearly 6 years in Africa before starting my graduate degree at the Kroc Institute for International Studies. The daily tomes of reading and intense regime of role play exercises and lectures had prepared me for a new adventure - a life of as a peacebuilder.  For my first post abroad, I relied on my informal academic advisor, Juan Mendez, who called me into his office, made a few phone calls, and handed me a 6-month unpaid internship in Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo.  

The International Human Rights Law Group could neither pay for my flight out there nor provide housing or transportation, but a desk was available and they were interested in someone with knowledge about transitional justice.  With the help of a 3,000 dollar grant from the Kroc Institute and the blessings of family, I was off to start a new career. You are probably expecting me to say that life in the field was different from what I had experienced in the classroom.  It was and it wasn't.  An interesting fact about peacebuilding is that there are very few people doing it.  Instead of arriving in a area where you have to adapt to existing norms and customs, the practitioner is very free to create the world he or she wishes to build. If you are a pessimist then, I imagine, the experience will be excruciating.  But I am, by nature, a hopeful idealist.  I used to challenge my political science professor at Notre Dame by saying that I was a utopian realist.  I believe in a perfect world but recognize our current starting point. Thus, the field was as I had decided it would be.  It is as simple as that.

With idealism as my lens, Congo became a wonderous playground for learning traditional approaches to fostering dialogue and transforming conflict into opportunities for growth. Politically, Congo was a mess. Perhaps, if I had decided to focus on all the politics involved in maintaining the status quo of managed chaos, then I would have been unwilling to give it a shot.  But people have always been my focus, and I remained on that path even after CARE International recruited me to work in my first active war zone in a district in northeastern Congo called Ituri.  

Ituri was a fertile ground for peace work.  I was holed up in a recently evacuated convent.  I had a beat up but working cherry red Land Rover pick up truck and a dedicated staff.  The days were long and interesting (Angelina Jolie visited my office to learn more about the conflict) but it was in the evenings that the magic happened.  When I was not under my bunk trying to avoid stray bullets from the weekly gun battles, I would be meeting with rebel leaders who had sent messengers to join them at the local bar.  The conversations were about anything but politics.  I got to know these leaders as men and quickly earned their trust.  Perhaps trust is going too far, but at least they no longer saw me as a potential threat.  My nationality was also a motivator for continued contact in case they should  one day need the support of the United States government.  (It is amazing how much people read into one's nationality)  My team and I managed to make significant in-roads just before the program was canceled. CARE had not managed the program to the donor's satisfaction. I set my sights on home for a much needed breather.

Since that experience, I have worked in more politically charged environments, where an American peace builder could not go about his business without raising concerns and alarm. Darfur was one such example. While local authorities eventually dropped their guard to some extent, the continued naming and shaming tactics of the Enough and Save Darfur campaigns painted me as a troublemaker. I was detained in Rwanda and briefly held for trial during a time when pressure on the Rwanda regime was increasing.  Fortunately all charges were dropped and I was allowed to leave after an extended 5 days stay in Kigali. Chad, Angola, and Cameroon had all become arenas where it was important to tread softly and often discretely if you wanted to have any positive impact at all.

So it was no surprise that Senegal presented similar hiccups to peace work. It also sent a message to me that I needed to update my toolkit. But what kind of tools does an idealist need?

Part Two - Finding the right toolkit

More pictures from today's event in Dakar

 

Distraction and frustration

The marches promised for March 19th have been taking place across the city in the approved designated areas. For the most part, the marches have been peaceful.  At one point in the Place de l'Indépendance, youth began throwing rocks at the police and surrounding buildings breaking windows and causing some damage to local stands.  The police intervened immedately, firing tear gas and dispersing the crowds.  Minutes later, people returned to the square and resumed a peaceful demonstration in favor of better living conditions, more transparency, lower food prices, electricity in their homes, and lower taxes.  The populations most affected by poorer standards of living live in the suburbs of Dakar, but several attempts during the day to organize impromptu marches in these areas were immediately put to a halt by riot police.  The right to march is guaranteed by the Senegal constitution, but the organizers must inform the government in advance of the plan to march, the route, and the duration.  I will send a final update on how the day ended.  But it looks like the demonstrations are already winding down.  Peacefully.

Accusations of a coup d'etat undermines momentum for march

Senegal is one of the few African states that has never experienced a coup d'état. So when I read this morning's news, I was startled intially.  The military had been warning the government about corruption among the brass and how civilians leaders had also been siphoning off money owed to them by the United Nations for their participation in international peacekeeping operations.  Naturally, I assumed the threat came from the military.  The lack of any news about this "coup d'état"on the radio made it seem even more ominous.  None of my neighbors had heard of it.  I called around to people in Dakar and they were equally in the dark.

Then one article got through the temporary internet black out this morning - the headline read "Senegal says arrests suspected coup plotters." The article states quite succintly that the state prosecutor decided to nip in the bud a plot aimed at a coup d'etat by arresting a number of individuals identified as members of the plot.  What was revealed later was the coup planners were some of the same people organizing today's march.  How convenient!  Another internet site rattled off the names of the suspects, many of them youth organizers.

Hard to say what impact this will have and whether it will indeed nip in the bud the momentum for this march.  I will send an update later this afternoon. 

Here is a longer article on this event : Senegal arrests suspected coup plotters

March 19 approaches

I apologize for the long pause since my last entry.  Our activities have resumed - albeit under another name to appease those threatened by the heading "peace" - and I am happy to report that we will be maintaining a focus on grassroots-driven ideas to create stable and healthy communities.

I was waiting until I had some clarification about the fate of our program since AED announced that it was folding, but it appears that we will not reach anything remotely resembling clarity until the month of June at the earliest. So we press on.  I have a large number of activities to develop and execute in the coming weeks and that has meant relighting the fires under my staff and myself.  We had all become rather complacent after months of relative inactivity.

Tomorrow is the full moon and the spring equinox. It is also "supermoon day" apparently because of the unusual promixity of the moon to the earth.  If you read the Internet, you will also see it is for some folks the "End of Days" day or just a "cataclysmic events"day.  I had no idea this day was so important.  I have not had a lot of time to research all the significance but in Senegal it carries another importance. It is the date the Senegalese opposition has chosen to hold what the press is calling a "large-scale Egyptian styled demonstration to topple President Wade."  It is interesting that Egypt is now the phenomenon of reference; it is as though Tunisia never happened.  But I digress.  According the press, the government ordered a new batch of crowd-control equipment for this special occassion and has already stationed units in the vicinity of the planned marches.  It is very unlikely that we will see any of that here in Ziguinchor. But I plan to follow the course of events via radio.  None of my colleagues believes the marches will last past dinner time because no one is expecting them to produce any real change.

I started writing an entry for the blog a week ago that became a bit too long.  It is a recap of what led me to this project in Senegal and the possible avenues forward.  I will post it to the internet on Sunday - after the march update - and add more pieces as the week wears on.

Here are some links the upcoming march.  Enjoy your weekend!

Senegal Braces for "Tahrir Square" Protests  and Tension brews in Senegal ahead of protest

The beach. A fun new way to tan your hide.

Senegal's Irangate muddies the waters

It is hard to predict all potential influences on a peace process. You can anticipate motivators like money, power, envy, rivalry, and politics. But this last intrusion into the Casamance conflict comes from an unexpected place.

Today, Senegal announced that it was cutting diplomatic ties - for the second time in 3 months. The rupture comes after the Chief of Staff of the Senegalese army issued a report that positively confirms that the MFDC has been using Iranian weapons to fight Senegal soldiers. The report makes reference to two previous shipments of arms to Gambia that may also have filtered into the hands of the Casamance independence movement. Last December, Nigerian authorities seized a large shipment of 32 containers bound for Gambia. And the fall out of that highly publicized event led Senegal to file a complaint with the UN Security Council via the United States ambassador to the United Nations.

Ever since Iran embarked on the pursuit of nuclear power, the U.S. has sought the support of its allies to isolate Iran politically and economically. When Senegal - a longtime ally of the United States - brazenly supported Iran's plans for nuclear power, it created a malaise in US-Senegalese relations.

The decision to rescind its relationship with Iran comes at a time when the death toll of Senegalese soldiers at the hands of well-equipped Casamance rebel has become intolerable. The emergence of the army's report put the final nails in the coffin, and opened a new possibility for agreement between Senegal and the U.S. on the question of Iran's isolation.

Senegal and Gambia followed suit immediately with the agreement to form joint patrols along the Gambian-Casamance border by April 2011. It feels like a test of Gambia public statements that it does not support the rebels in Casamance and a good way to keep closer tabs on what is happening along this very porous border. Something tells me that the offer of U.S. assistance to help monitor border activity is not far behind. What impact U.S. government involvement in this conflict will have on our program is also in question. Until now, all the rebel groups have seen our organization as neutral. That may change should we suddenly find ourselves on the side of a U.S. military assistance program that is less than friendly to those seeking refuge in Gambia.

I am off to spend the weekend on one of the famous beaches of Casamance. I have been here for nearly 4 months but have held off visiting until Jenny arrived. Looking forward to seeing what all the fuss has been about.

Burning New Trails

The power of fire has come to the fore yet again this year.  I am not just referring to the many, emotional sighs of relief of the reemergence of that fiery globe in the sky after many months of cold and darkness.  No, I am thinking of the symbolism of fire as a tool of purification and renewal.

From Prometheus’ perilous quest for fire and the biblical revelations of judgment by fire,  to the Phoenix’s rebirth through fire and its ashes, we find solace and dedicate prose to this powerful, destructive and yet rejuvenating force.  I remember the fires that raged through Yellowstone National Forest back in the 1990s, driving thousands from the land and taking their homes one by one on the evening news.  My friend Paul and I were fortunate to be able to visit the park in the course of our work with the Department of State just a few years later and marveled at the thousands of new trees that had been born from this natural calamity that had caused so much anguish and sorrow for the many who had called this area home and sanctuary. The Pinon Pine needs the high heat of 1500 degrees Fahrenheit to crack its seed pods; however, the careful controls on wildfires had denied this species its rightful birth. This tree seems, by design, to be the harbingers of a newly emerging landscape when lightning-sparked wildfires sweep across the plains.

These are the images that came to mind when I read the news of a 36-year old Senegalese army veteran who sat on the steps of the presidential palace in Dakar Friday morning, carefully removed a small plastic bottle, emptied its contents over his body, and set himself ablaze to the horror of theretofore indifferent palace guards.  The man died from his wounds at 1 a.m. today, February 21st.  Other images streaming across the internet over the past month highlight other young men who also chose the ritual of self-sacrifice to send a message of suffering, sadness, anger, and powerlessness in the hope of bringing about a positive change.

After years of seeing young men use their bodies as bombs to kill thousands, these new tactics have shifted our gaze slightly to see these actions as self-sacrifice, martyrdom, great personal loss with a heavy political message.  If you watched Al Jazeera over the course of the past few years, you will note that the term suicide bomber was never used. Instead, an individual martyred him or herself in the name of a cause.  This new wave, causing injury only to the self, seems to have garnished greater sympathy.  But it seems to me that the message remains the same.  Change, Now!

But what kind of change can we expect? What new landscape will emerge from the ashes of Egypt, Tunisia, and the evolving revolutions in Libya, Yemen, Jordan, and Algeria?  Are the sacrificial fires enough to bring purification and renewal? I sit here with the angels and devils of doubt and hope on  opposite shoulders making it very difficult to decide either way.  But the first steps to resolution and peace comes with the truth.  Speaking the truth and sharing grief, stories of the past, and desires for the future can be an purifying process.  In some old traditions, the breath is believed to be the bringer of life.  You do not use it to blow out a candle's flame but instead to invigorate, inspire, and enlighten.  I pray on this day that the people of the world take stock in this lesson and do not allow meaningless talk to extinguish the flames that have opened a potential new path to self-realization and promise. The young men need not have died in vain nor inspire others to follow in their footsteps.

The streets of Dakar are quiet and there are no signs of unrest or even an interest in courting the flames of a Senegalese revolution.  But as I walked to buy vegetables for dinner, I could heard the name of the fallen soldier, Bocar Bocoum, whispered in conversations between men selling telephone cards, street vendors, and taxi drivers waiting for rush hour customers.  He has not been forgotten.  Sometimes the real power of fire is reflection.

Thank you for your well wishes and email messages.  I feel very blessed and loved.

A day in the life

As we figure out a new way forward - no throwing in the towel in this business - I am finding it pleasurable to take in the social scene in Ziguinchor.

Hardcore rap Senegal style (Click to listen)

I attended a rap talent show that the English club of the local public high school organized to raise money.  It was a hit.  Lots of kids, all decked out in their 2-Pac meets Puff Daddy cum Dr Dre fashion with ball caps, high school letter jackets (not sure about that one), baggy jeans, and bobbing heads.  They each performed original works that would be hits in the United States - if they had been in English.  I was put off initially by the fact that everyone was just mouthing the words but someone pointed out that good microphones were too expensive, so everyone premixed their raps and background music for that night's performance.  So while they were not actually rapping on the night of the performance, the recording was all them.  Really a professional gig.  I look forward to the next one.  I like rap music.  This musical art form started as an outlet to express inner-city troubles and that is still the case here in Ziguinchor.  And, yes, I was the old guy in the room.  But it was fun.

The last month has seen a sharp spike in violence.  Alleged MFDC gunmen have perpetrated armed car jackings, slit the throat of a woman they accused of informing to the military, robbed a bank, and held many standing battles with the Senegalese army.  "Standing" - as in not on the run.  These guys are getting cocky and more organized.  And fortunately, also more verbal. One leader, who may be behind some of most recent attacks, sent a letter to a local community warning them not to form armed militia to defend their village.  The letter was harsh and angry, but it is still showed an effort to communicate.  A hard lined group with no interest in social ties would never have bothered with a letter, much less a warning.  So, that is a good sign, in my eyes.  I take what I can get.

I bring this up because some of the kids rapping last Friday had taken on nicknames associated with the recent attacks.  Nearly all the kids come from families that have fallen on hard times, and all blame the government.  It was not surprising that they begin to idolize the rebels. especially in light of recent successes in the field.  There is just no doubt that the youth hold the keys to any sustainable peace in this region.  Most of the young men and women I saw that night are not looking to don camouflage jumpsuits and carry automatic weapons anytime soon.  They are the local elite that managed to find the financial means to make it to high school.  Yet, they are in contact with friends who are less fortunate and far more likely to see the rebellion as a valid option - if they haven't joined already.  The hard messages carried with style in their lyrical performances tell me that this group may be interested in helping to find solutions, if given an opportunity to contribute.

On a personal note, I received a call from the shipping agent that my personal effects are scheduled for delivery on Saturday, February 13th.  They took nearly four months to get here but it will feel like Christmas when they do.

Peace, love, as I sway to the sounds of the rap song dedicated to saving the Mangroves (no kidding)

Now something light - salsa in Dakar. I had a blast

Something borrowed, something new

I woke up Thursday morning at 3am with a text message indicating that one faction had decided to declare all out war.  The faction is headed by a small dissident group that broke away from the Front Sud nearly a year ago and resorted to the use of arms when he found his voice had no weight among the more seasoned rebel leaders.  He is a young man, barely 24 years old.

Later that same day, the group's civil wing announces that it has fiiled charges against the former president of Senegal with the International Criminal Court for facilitating the creation of death squads in Casamance during the 1980s and 1990s.  It accuses him of crimes against humanity and genocide. 

Both actions were borrowed from a playbook used by so many other movements of their type, using violence on one end and pseudo legal action on another to provide an air of legitimacy and sophistication.  Referring the leaders of the country to the ICC has become a widespread and common practice.  Some claims may be legitimate but the ICC's temporal jurisdiction begins July 2002, so it cannot investigate any violations of international law that took place before that date - something this group probably already knows but it looks snazzy to make reference to the fact that a supranational institution will be bending to its will.  

Last Friday afternoon just as I was heading home from the office, something new emerged on the horizon.  We hear that our program is being closed indefinitely.  Turns out that the reason for the closure may have indeed started as a misunderstanding and continued as stumbling missteps at a higher level, but, in the end, it became a golden opportunity for some reprisals over the criticisms of the US toward this administration that were revealed in Wikileaks early December 2010.

The immediate solution is to shift all programming into another area - governance.  That may become permanent unless diplomatic actions can create the political space for our program to continue.  In the meantime, I find myself pondering what a mediation specialist is doing working as a program assistant for a newly branded governance project.  I have worked on good governance projects in the past, but it is unusual for expatriates to hold jobs that a national staff member can do better given their facility with language and knowledge of local government.  

Not sure when an answer will come to that question but in the meantime, I continue to tread water.

And now for something completely different

This comic strip hit home.  My dance partner, Claudia, sent  it to me last week and I laughed immediately and kept returning to it again and again.  It is really brilliant.  How many of us use a busy schedule as an excuse not to do something really important when we know that the alternative is even less desirable? Well, I cannot see how many of you are raising your hands right now, but I can definitely say that I have been there too many times..  The funny thing is that once you get out there and do the thing you have been dreading, you ask yourself, "what was the big deal?" "This is fun!" Or "This is easy!"  

The other thought that crossed my mind when I saw this was whether any of you has ever received a prescription for exercise from your doctor.  My brother Michael, a doctor who believes in making his patients responsible for their health, probably has done just that.  But I have never had a doctor who has asked about my level of activity or recommended exercise as a way to improve my health or a condition. So in that respect, in my life anyway, this clip is more fantasy than reality.  But imagine a doctor who comes at you with that kind of frankness.  Refreshing for sure. 

Got an email this week from a friend who took a chance in the name of love and is now bathing in its glow.  Did not have to look upon her beaming face to see this.  I could feel her through the email she sent.   Can't imagine what took her lover so long to make a move - no doubt a busy schedule -  but I look forward to many love stories in the coming months ( maybe years?).

Letting go and allowing my feelings to guide me has never been my strong point.  But I AM a strong believer in moving on one's first impulse.  As my mother would say, that is more concept than truth.  I received a call over a year ago to come work in Senegal.  I said yes immediately before I had even read the job proposal.  A rare opportunity presented itself.  I was flattered that the job had been tailored to me in particular, and I said yes.  

This week I am being asked to rewrite the entire project from scratch including the job descriptions for every staff member.  I liked the original format and strategy.  It is founded in theory and applicable to the reality here.  My own tendency to go with my first impulse is no doubt the reason I am uncomfortable with the idea of  scrapping what we have been building up to now.  Recent  very complicated events have spooked management and made them question the chosen path.  I agree that we must provide for more contingencies, especially those beyond our control, but I have faith in the process, slow and unremarkable though it may be.  

That is how I will spend my Sunday, working on the draft, until evening comes and I have the pleasure of connecting with Jenny in our weekly call.  Hope you will pardon the stream of consciousness that this blog entry has become.  More tangible news guaranteed this time next week.

 

Rebels open fire on military quarters

Ziguinchor, Senegal – Rebels in Senegal's southern Casamance province, who have been waging an independence campaign against the Senegalese government in Dakar since 1982, Thursday attacked a camp of the Senegalese army in Magnora, about 80 kilometres north of Ziguinchor,

According to the local press, MFDC rebels opened fire on the military quarters, injuring some of the Senegalese soldiers. This provoked a violent clash with the rebels, who were heavily armed. Following the incident, residents of the area have been holed up in their houses while planes from the Senegalese air force have been carrying reconnaissance missions in the area. Other reports speak of three soldiers killed from the rebel assault and three women injured when the reconnaissance plan dropped explosives on what it thought was a group of rebels. Similar clashes have been intensified in the last two weeks between the two camps. In one of the incidents 27 December, eight Senegalese soldiers were killed in an ambush.

On the other side of this coin, Ziguinchor saw an explosion of peace demonstrations.  About 300 women - Muslim, Catholic, and Guardians of the Sacred Forest - held an all night vigil in the center of town, each group contributing hymns, chants, and songs from their own traditions.  The following morning they marched on the governor's mansion to demand action in favor of peace.  Several hundred boy scouts marched today in four different parts of the city to bring attention to the need to participate in teh movement for peace in Casamance.

In Dakar, the nation's capital, total silence.  The press and the opposition points lots of fingers in all directions but the general population goes about its business like Casamance is far, far away.  I remember experiencing something similar when I lived in northeastern Congo.  People in Kinshasa imagined the conflict to be between ignorant tribes in some rural village. It was always interesting to see people's faces when they would fly into Ituri for a visit and find 5 story buildings, wide paved streets, and a very complex international conflict on Congolese soil.

Not sure what will happen here. But suffice it to say that with daily news of attacks against military targets, it will not be long before the tensions manage to wake the sleeping lion.

Happy Birthday Michael

Day 14 - Office is still closed.  We are waiting for an answer today and have been assured that we should be back in our offices sometime today.  It is still 10 a.m., so still hopeful.

Read the news today about the French hostages in neighboring Mali and Niger and the failed rescue attempt that again resulted in the hostages being killed.  The culprits call themselves "Al Qaeda in the Maghreb" or AQMI as it is known in its French acronym.   The group is an off-shoot of the very poorly managed conflict in Algeria that resulted in generating more and more economically and politically disenfranchised youth who turned to Islam as a vehicle for political justice. That is the very summarized version. I am no expert on Algeria's political history.  Only really started paying attention during the elections in the early 1990s when the candidates for the Islamic Salvation Front were denied the right to participate in the second round of elections, after they had done exceedingly well and stood a good chance of winning power.  The country spiraled into unrest and Islamic fundamentalism really took hold in many areas outside the capital.  The violence, oppression, and suppression lasted a decade and took its toll on Algerian society and eventually on the surrounding nations in north Africa especially. 

Two days after I arrived in Senegal, I read an article in which the President of Senegal was threatened for having helped facilitate the arrest of AQMI members. AQMI claims to be developing ties and strength in Senegal but thus far the U.S. Embassy has not issued any warnings about potential abductions or terrorist threats.  The matter has more or less been brushed aside as a situation that could not affect us here in Senegal. 

But the longer-term impact of poorly planned or short-sighted political and military solutions to conflicts is a phenomenon that the United States has been grappling with in Iraq and Afghanistan.  It is also a widespread problem in many parts of Asia, Latin America, and, yes, Africa too.  The war in the Democratic Republic of Congo is linked to the yet unresolved conflict in Rwanda.  The war in Casamance was able to gain some momentum from the wars in neighboring Guinea Bissau, Liberia, and Sierra Leone. Each time you leave disgruntled groups outside of some acceptable arrangement, you leave room for greater unrest elsewhere.  Sweeping the unresolved problems under the rug amounts basically to dumping your problems into someone else's backyard to fester and develop into full blown violent conflicts of another kind altogether with no one to take ownership for them. 

This is yet another reality that I find myself grappling with as I seek a possible path forward.  I am finding it hard to swallow the prospect that I may have to accept a majority of the willing participants to some form of negotiated agreement and allow the resistant outliers to be somebody else's problem further down the line.  Not an option where I stand now.  Let's see how principled I remain as this work develops and difficult decisions have to be made. 

Today is Michael's birthday.  A very wise old soul who believes in the human spirit, the power of prayer, and the grace of God in all matters large and small.  I am proud to call him my brother.  Have a good one bro.