The Coordination National of the MFP project has been abuzz the last two weeks with all professional staff from our 5 field office in house. We are working, arguing, yelling, sometimes listening and reading to try to fully analyse our project. Soon we will meet with the other 5 countries working on the same project and we are feverishly preparing to share our challenges and lessons learned. On the fun side it is all an organizational nightmare, but as long as I keep on smiling deep down I like it.
Last week Mike and I led two and half days of workshops. We were facilitating the group to analyse the organization and our development approach. It was the most challenging facilitation gig I’ve ever done. From the big boss not liking the results we were getting, to certain members who insist on yelling all the time, to people who want a two day workshop to take a week because they think it is important we were balancing people’s wants. I have learned millions of things about my office and our staff. I think I’ve got almost everyone’s Myers Briggs personality type down and I’m working on figuring out people’s learning styles but that is tougher.
I am learning more and more the cultural differences between the West and Mali. It is something that could take years. I am trying to make sure that I find the happy medium taking the good work methods and ideas from each culture and fusioning them together. Doing everything Canadian style just doesn’t work, it’s like trying to put square pegs into triangular holes. However, our normal work methods need a lot of improvement, so I introduce a little Canadian flavour when I think it’ll help. I hope that as time goes on and cultural exchange continues the world is able to appreciate the positive things that other communities and countries do.
I was actually very tired last week. Trying to work with a big rowdy group and achieve objectives isn’t the easiest. Now we are still in a big group but it is no longer me and Mike that are the focal point of the work. We’re still pretty involved but not ultimately responsible. I found something that showed to me how challenging Mali is. Looking at the study we did in a village before installing an MFP it was found that there were 12 000 inhabitants of whom 8 men and 5 women had gone to school and a total of 14 adults that could read. Can you imagine trying to work in a community where 14 of 12 000 people can read? Actually it’s more like 14 of 6 000 people because half the population is children. A country where about a third of the population can read and most are waiting for their 18th birthday. This puts all the pressure on the illiterate adults to provide sustenance and opportunities for all the children.
Last weekend we needed a little adventure so after work we (Mike, Louis and I) made a break for the Main de Fatima, the best rock climbing spot in west Africa. Armed with shoes, shorts and the button up shirts we wore to work on Friday we made jumped on a bus heading north. Dreams of summiting in our hearts and the reality of no ropes, no skills, and debilitating heat in our heads we looked out of the bus at the near desert lit by the full moon. We arrived at the small village of Diarra at the foot of the cliffs around midnight. A little campement has been set up for climbers and tourists. Mariam greeted us and we soon found out she may be the only Peul woman living in a small village who speaks fluent Spanish. She’s married to a rock climber named Salvador Campillo who has lived on and off in the area for almost 20 years setting dozens of routes up and speaking Spanish with his wife. She is soon off to Spain as the hot season is coming on and no one wants to be in Mali.
We tried to climb the middle, and smallest, finger in the morning (see picture). We made it pretty close but got to a point where it wasn’t safe to continue. Of course we got pretty dehydrated because we are stubborn and brought one litre of water for three people for a four hour hike that ended at around 1 pm under the full force of the Malian sun and over 40 degree heat. Ever since Ramadan I am very disciplined when it comes to things like water and food. I can go a long time without drinking, even in extreme heat. Of course there is an element of physical conditioning but it is really more of the choo choo train mentality. I think I can, I think I can…I have to think I can or I’ll pass out. I got to wondering how long you can live in the desert without any water. Would you be floating to another dimension after a day? Two? I have no idea. Mike especially was feeling the dehydration effects and sent all the water he drank when we got back to camp back where it came from in violent fashion. I guess Mr. Sunshine isn’t always friendly, sometimes he can try to give a little too much loving and you have to hide out under a tree.
The afternoon involved a little less climbing rocks in button up shirts with no water and more sitting in the shade reading books on leadership. I got to flex my almost non existent Spanish muscles with Mariam, which only added to the insult of my discovery that all my climbing muscles were also non existent. First two things to do once I get back to Canada are get back in the Spanish groove and start climbing again!
The next day was pretty much the same only we upped the water to 1,5 litres for the three people over 4 hours, and I switched out of the button up shirt. All in all it was a fantastic weekend of feeling alive. Sometimes you just need to remind yourself that you are young (at least at heart) and you’ve got a little spirit.
