Emotional Day

I was completely unaware that I had any family in Ethiopia, but I spent a portion of my day today with my oldest “Relative!” Lucy, the famed three million year old fossil of the earliest discovered Hominid is at The National Museum of Ethiopia. Technically Lucy is kept in an air and light free casing in the basement of the museum and I only saw a replica, but I’m alright with that.

Awestruck....

Lucy is estimated to be 3.2 million years old and was located in the Awash Valley of Ethiopia in 1974. There are a number of incredible artifacts at The National Museum of Ethiopia and the lack of funds to keep them protected as they deserve is quite saddening. Any type of casing is only present to keep people out of reach of the items, not for proper preservation. The relics of Haile Selasse and Menelik are covered with dust and visibly deteriorating far too quickly! I was slightly depressed after leaving the main area of the museum, only to receive a great pick-me-up as I was lucky enough to be there for the last day of the "Rastafari: The Majesty & The Movement" exhibit. I could never receive a good answer as to why, but for whatever reason there were no pictures allowed in the exhibit. Interestingly enough, the "No Pictures" rule at the rastafari exhibit was by far the  most strictly enforced rule I have encountered during my entire stay in Ethiopia... 

Habesha people don't smile in pictures

My "Guide" on this day was Yohana, a beautiful young lady that teaches during the day and works at my guesthouse at night. After the museum I she asked me if I wanted to go to the school where she teaches at, I was in for more than a tour! 

March 8 is located in Bole Sub-City of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. It is a government-funded school that houses roughly 900 students in Pre-school through 8^th grade.  This day ended up being special, it was the end of the year celebration; this includes a kindergarten “graduation” and the passing out of report cards. The report cards, much like in the United States, are signed by respective teachers, district officials and principals. Lacking computer databases and informational support outside of the school itself,  the report card must be produced in order to proceed to the next grade. Since classes are not homogenous in age (they have a crazy idea that students should progress with their abilities, not arbitrarily based on birthday...) the need for physical proof of grade completion holds increased importance. When I was told I would get to hand out the report cards to her class of fourth grade students and their parents I was quite excited... but then...

Kindergarten, or "KG" graduation!

A difference between our system and theirs soon revealed itself. A report card at March 8 actually costs families 150birr (just over $7) to receive. That day in a fourth grade class of 38 students, three families were able to produce what is visually a prohibitive cost in order to receive their child’s ticket to scholastic progression.

The reason for this cost, as with many others, i.e. uniforms, materials, Xeroxed copies of lesson books that are handed down to the point of tatters (only to receive a possible fine for poor condition upon return) is due to trying to make ends meet without sufficient government funding.

The plot again thickened when I found out that in a school of roughly 900 there are around 40 "High need" students that are identified by the staff. The staff then writes fundraising or “sponsorship” letters to local eateries in the attempts to subsidize the cost of food for those in need. The teachers pool their money together in order to provide breakfast and lunch. The combined cost on a daily basis for these students is 15birr. I wish to stress that I use the term “high need” here relative to a student’s peer group. Simply put, these are students that cannot obtain food. There isn’t a cafeteria at March 8 and that may actually make it easier to identify those that do not show up with anything on a daily basis. However, these aren’t the only students that have trouble providing nutrition for themselves, these are the most-vulnerable of a population that is by all metrics, impoverished. Without the personal assistance of teachers who themselves make roughly $110 a month, these children would starve.  

On a much, much lighter note; we decided to make some coffee upon return to the guesthouse and for the first time, I TOOK THE REINS! 

Working the Jebina

Pill Bottle Tick Tock

Malarone.

That daily dose of malaria protecting goodness. If you have a prescription for it in your name, you know you’re traveling far, most likely somewhere hot, most likely somewhere remote, most likely somewhere poor.

96 tablets. Enough for my entire stay in Malawi. Two days before. Seven days after. Every single day in between.

When I took the first pill in Seattle, my container was nearly full. Looking at it was daunting. Each pill meant another bucket bath, another night under a dusty insecticide treated mosquito net that will produce unprecedented sleep inhibiting allergic reactions, another conversation that will take twice as long because of language barriers, another look at an iPhone that will never ring. Each pill represented another 24 hours that will be at least 6 hours ahead of everyone who loves me. Twenty-four hours of having to adjust, negotiate, learn, relearn, unlearn and compromise. Time, needless to say, moved slowly. Each day, each pill, just never seemed to make a dent in the pile.

But as my workmate says when I present a new idea about changes to the organizational structure and work processes (my main internship task), “change is hard, but we can get used to”.

It wasn’t until a few days ago when I tossed my second can of Deet in the trash that I realized that time had escaped me. I grabbed my pill bottle to find less than half remaining.

Where did the time go?

Looking at the container now, I find myself a bit saddened. There seems to be a different script narrating my nightly pill-taking ritual. Each pill flushed down the back of my throat means one less picture I’ll take, one less walk through the market, one less conversation with the ladies in the kitchen who greet me so excitedly and make fun of my American cooking, one less fruit I’ll discover, one less moment in “the bush” that recalls stories my mother told me about her childhood growing up in Jamaica.

This was Tuesday's dinner. I'm not a fussy eater and the kitchen ladies at the lodge feel strongly that I'll never get married by just boiling veggies and putting salt on it. But hey, it was filling, yummy and cost about 10 cents. You can't beat that!

Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited to go back home. I’m looking forward to seeing my friends, reuniting with family at a cousin’s wedding that will take place just 3 days after I land, falling back into my normal routines, enjoying fast and reliable internet powerful enough to stream the new season of Orange is the New Black, cutting these darn braids out of my hair to free my afro, preparing for my half marathon and most importantly, getting a serious pedicure (these dirt roads are not kind).

But something happened between seven weeks ago and now. Now the thought of leaving tugs at me a bit and I wonder about the futures of the people I’ve met like Mercy. She’s the lodge cook who has a severe burn on left leg that left her with only three toes and whose knives in the kitchen are so dull, I struggle to cut a cucumber when I use it. How she’s able to prepare ANY food is far beyond my understanding. She told me today that she has a fiancé who lives in Blantyre, a commercial district almost three hours away. Quickly after telling me this, she advised that I should pray to God to send me a nice husband. I wonder if she’ll leave Balaka and her post at the lodge after they get married. I wonder how many children she’ll have.

Me and Mercy, the lodge cook

I’m curious about the lodge guard whose name I do not know. Turns out he’s actually a trained high school biology teacher who just wasn’t selected for the limited open positions in the government schools. He has a 5-month-old baby and just works here to make ends meet until he finds a better job.  Balaka is very rural and the lodge is a 15-minute walk from the main road. As you can imagine, there’s not much to do as a guard here so he passes the time reading a small worn down Bible. He told me one Sunday that sometimes he doesn’t go to church and prefers to read the Bible to know God.

Guard cooking his lunch at his post

I think a lot about Nunga, my new best friend in Lilongwe, a recovering alcoholic (2 years sober now) who currently runs a support group called “Overcomers” at her church every Saturday and dreams to build clinics in Malawi that will help adolescents with mental illnesses and drug additions.  I wonder what will happen to her kids, who I met one night when we had dinner together at her house, and whether their interests in bugs and animals will sway them in a different career path than she hopes for them. I wonder if she’ll tell them her story.

Me and Nunga after church.

I wonder about one of the driver’s daughters, who despite his disapproval, continues to pursue a career in journalism and was recently accepted into a university for a journalism degree. I wonder how he’ll manage to pay the school fees, since saving money is extremely difficult and not commonly practiced here.

This is not a reflection to portray how little people have and how much I have in comparison. This is not about guilt. This is not a reflection to sort out what I could do to impact these people’s lives. This is not about charity. This is not a reflection that ends saying that these people who have so little, somehow find a way to be so happy. This is not a fairytale.

This reflection is about realizing that everyone has a story that began before I met them and will continue long after I leave. My interactions with them and the relationship we develop will more than likely become a distant emotionless memory with the passing of time. They may forget me and I them. I am confident, however, that we’re learning from each other, even if it’s just in this moment. I hope that creates powerful ripples in each of our lives that push us to be more understanding, patient and open to differences. This reflection is about possibility.

I’m not sure how one makes the transition from counting pills each night to this; how does one go from worrying about their future to worrying about others’? I’ve never stayed abroad this long before to cycle through these stages. There’s something to be said about it, though. Maybe one day I’ll figure out what that is.

After Africa

 After three months in Dar, I have now made my way back to Ann Arbor.  The timing feels odd as many next steps were just beginning; many of my recommendations revolved around an integrated strategy for the mRDT market, which involved building consensus with other NGOs and the government.  My last afternoon was spent in a government conference room with all the key organizations gaining alignment on the next steps.  It will be exciting to see what occurs next, although most gains are not likely to really be seen for years and maybe even decades.  Motivating individuals to change behavior when the individual benefit is much smaller than the public benefit challenges and requires regulatory change is a goal that will not be solved with a summer’s worth of work.  My appreciation of the complexity around health issues has increased dramatically.  In addition to requiring coordination of many different stakeholders, technology can change much faster than implementation.  Achieving the best health outcomes requires the difficult balancing act of coordinating current products while planning for future changes.  I learned a lot about CHAI’s approach of working with governments and supporting private market and how that contrasts with other NGOs focused on the same outcomes.  My favorite aspect of the CHAI approach is the focus on achieving scale as part of the solution.  By taking a broad approach including governments and other stakeholders, many projects take longer, require more compromise, and change more frequently, but the end result can have a far wider impact.  The policy aspect of the work was the most challenging, but also the area with the most potential for improved outcomes.

So now as I get back to Michigan and gear up for the school year ahead, I am working on processing my summer experience and preparing for the future.  Business school really is incredibly fast-paced with new decisions arriving before everything can be totally processed.  I was able to achieve some of my primary aims in coming to business school in that I was able to stretch my boundaries, experience work life in an emerging market, and work within new business structures-- AND I was able to all of this with my family!  We were able to see many of the positive and negative aspects of living as an expatriate.  My experience this summer has prepared me immensely for the decisions that await me as I make decisions on the next step in my career.  The WDI internship has been a critical step in my step toward becoming a global leader.

1-yr olds can't go on safaris, but a stop at the Amsterdam zoo on the way home meant seeing giraffes up close

Watching the tide go out while in Zanzibar

Maraming salamat for the best summer!

My last month in Bohol, Philippines is not only about wrapping up my final report and presentation, but also traveling. It was very kind of my supervisor and his wife to invite me over their house in Cebu city. It took about two-hours riding on a ferry from Tagbilaran to Cebu. Cebu is the hub of the Visayas region. It is the most densely populated island in the Philippines and is second only to Luzon in its strategic and economic importance to the country. There, Cebu & Mactan City Tour took us to many highlights such as Santo Nino Basilica, Magellan’s Cross, Taoist Temple, Lapu-Lapu Shrine, a local Guitar Factory and Yap-Sandiego Ancestral House. We did some shopping at Ayala shopping mall, the biggest mall in Cebu and had a nice lunch at a Japanese BBQ restaurant, ending the day with delicious pizzas at Yellow Cab.  The next day they also took me to the Tops, looking out from a hilltop view over the city and had such a nice dinner at Busay Lantaw on the top of the hill.  I would say this last weekend making me relaxed from all the work over these last three months.

 

Hilltop view of Cebu City

Yap-Sandiego Ancestral House

Mactan Shrine

Lapu-Lapu Shrine

Taoist Temple

Magellan’s Cross



Besides, I could not close my blog without saying a big thanks to CEVI. They surprised me with a farewell party or what they called ‘despedida.’ They gave me a customized shirt, saying CEVI <3 Saranya, and some cute souvenirs. I forgot to mention that I already got a CEVI staff shirt as becoming one of their family too. They prepared plenty of food and desserts, and two giant cakes with my name on it!  I am very thankful for all of these.  Unfortunately, I only had time about ten minutes at the party since I had to leave to Cebu. I did not miss taking a last shot photo with all CEVI family.

 

My lovely shirt

CEVI Family

On my last day in Tagbilaran, I must say I felt very excited to go home after completing my internship. On the other hand, I felt really strange that I would not see my work partner, my team and my friends in the office everyday anymore. I am afraid that on the first morning in Bangkok I might be sleep-walking, trying to get a tricycle going to the office in the morning ..... hahaha.  Lastly, I never expected that my participation in the Global Impact Internship program with WDI will give me so much experience and knowledge. It also encourages me to be involved more in development area, not only micro-finance but also other potential tools or products that could help alleviate poverty.