Composed Friday, June 8th
How do I capture this?
A truly transformational experience. One of my favorite Fuqua-inspired topics of conversations is about transactional and transformational experiences. Today has been the most transformational day yet. Piggybacking on the aspects that made it such is the idea of serving others; the goal is to be with rather than work for others. This requires being present physically and being active mentally and emotionally.
I haven't done a good job of either of these elements in the last three weeks. This whole internship is a bit of a selfish endeavor. While it is not financially self-serving (I'm not being paid) it is 100% what I wanted to do this summer and why I ultimately went back to school: to have the opportunity to embark on personal paradigm shifting experiences.
When I showed up at the office on day one, I was a bit surprised as I have been on any first day (Whitman, Sunset, Sun Valley, Nic, Babcock, Fuqua), and here I am, surprised to be surprised. That EGG already has robust models to evaluate opportunities, that they are just now creating a mission and vision, that they are facing challenges with their equipment, their customers, their impact and their staff. The two people that I shared the staff house with initially have returned to their other commitments, and the people that have been here the past week will not be here next week. My eagerness mutated into a bit of confusion, which ultimately became a bad attitude and a feeling of stagnation. That paired with bad dreams from the malaria pills and not having intentional interactions with folks at home (relying on passive information from sources like Facebook, Twitter and email), it's not the recipe for a transformational experience.
But I'm out of the red and back on top after a couple of good days. My colleague, Donatien, has been instrumental in this migration. While I'm complaining about not feeling useful, he's coming up with projects. After making a statement about the distance of our house from the office, he demands that I accompany him and a visitor to the Mbagala station. Also, another coworker has been giving me a good taste of non-Mzungu socializing.
So today required a bajaj (auto rickshaw) to the city center (we passed some fender benders and horrible traffic along the way), tracked down an elusive hotel, found the visitor, took a dala-dala (minibus) to Mbagala. I assumed my role as mysterious observer, only asking questions when I'm really curious about something, not forcing any interactions. Then that passivity is shaken when the visitor wants to see the home of a customer. I object, saying people aren't prepared for that intrusive activity. I get overruled and then eagerly accompany the group by taxi. We see an office with two lights powered by a single battery. The lights work; the customer is happy; we return to the station. Instead of heading back to the office in Dar with Donatien and the visitor, I stick around; I'm on a roll and there's an opportunity to see an installation.
It requires some serious transportation, but I accompany three fundis (technicians, all teens) to a remote village, where a Muslim school ordered the installation of six light bulbs in a dorm for boys. Now there are a lot of wild things about this. I gave up trying to learn Swahili and the fundis know some English, but when I can't pronounce the name of one of them (a common problem I encounter), I accidentally call him husband. Just one example of how entertaining I am to them. Then we pile in a van that will take us to the remote village. I try to not be an imposition, but carrying one bag of our supplies might draw more attention: mzungu lady with 3 guys doing manual labor.
We get to the village without a problem, it's around 2 pm when we arrive. The guys track down our client. Client's piki-piki (motorcycle) carries the equipment off, we walk with boys that I assume are his sons, but are probably students at the school. We walk for about a mile to the site, and when we arrive I see that this is a complicated job with extensive wiring, six switches and two batteries. One fundi climbs up in the tresses immediately; he's the lead, and his helpers are ready to work.
Me? I'm given a chair and instructed to sit, so I watch in awe, wishing that they would give me something to do because the only role I'm currently playing is white girl on display. Definitely a rare species in this environment. I manage to insist on helping, handing them tools and attempting to strip wires, but ultimately I appear bored and tired when in reality I'm incredibly impressed that these youngsters are making this happen. The only problem is that I feel like I'm going to faint. I had a huge breakfast of two (2!) avocados, but no water or snacks since 7 am. Luckily I'm gifted a coconut (laughter erupts among the crowd of kids and teachers when I try to pay for it), which is the most refreshing and delicious thing I've ever experienced.
Boys come in and out of the dorm, changing between their street clothes and their traditional white Muslim thobes. A few women pass by and I wish that I could communicate with them, but all I can manage is to shake hands, smile and say asante (thank you). Dusk arrives and voices rise to sing the daily prayers. "Husband" tells me that I have to go, it's getting late. I wonder what time they will finish the installation because it looks like they still have quite a bit of work to do. I'm escorted to the town center, where we arrived by van. But wait! I'm told that there are no vans at this time. A Muslim teacher/warden/superintendent? negotiates a solution: a motorcycle ride to a street with vans that drive back to the station. Yikes. No helmets, but no choice. I take a big gulp and saddle up.
I haven't mentioned the setting. It's incredibly beautiful. It reminds me a lot of rural Zambia, but with coconut trees and pineapple plants. This seems like paradise. The ride is long on a sandy road through small villages, but it's much smoother and more enjoyable than I anticipated. Then I have to shove myself onto a van, squished between people and sacks of potatoes. When I get to Mbagala, I find a luxurious dala-dala to Mwenge (my neighborhood in Dar), so I'm home free! Except traffic congestion means that I don't get home until 9:30 pm. Regardless, I am content. I look at the asphalt that has been squished by the combination of heat and heavy trucks, grateful for the mild weather and feeling like this day has had a similar and lasting impression on me.
Lights, camera, action? Today we installed lights. I did not have a camera. But I am on my way to having more action in my Tanzania life. I chug water and inhale dinner and manage to have a nightmare-free sleep. Undeniably transformational.
How do I capture this?
A truly transformational experience. One of my favorite Fuqua-inspired topics of conversations is about transactional and transformational experiences. Today has been the most transformational day yet. Piggybacking on the aspects that made it such is the idea of serving others; the goal is to be with rather than work for others. This requires being present physically and being active mentally and emotionally.
I haven't done a good job of either of these elements in the last three weeks. This whole internship is a bit of a selfish endeavor. While it is not financially self-serving (I'm not being paid) it is 100% what I wanted to do this summer and why I ultimately went back to school: to have the opportunity to embark on personal paradigm shifting experiences.
When I showed up at the office on day one, I was a bit surprised as I have been on any first day (Whitman, Sunset, Sun Valley, Nic, Babcock, Fuqua), and here I am, surprised to be surprised. That EGG already has robust models to evaluate opportunities, that they are just now creating a mission and vision, that they are facing challenges with their equipment, their customers, their impact and their staff. The two people that I shared the staff house with initially have returned to their other commitments, and the people that have been here the past week will not be here next week. My eagerness mutated into a bit of confusion, which ultimately became a bad attitude and a feeling of stagnation. That paired with bad dreams from the malaria pills and not having intentional interactions with folks at home (relying on passive information from sources like Facebook, Twitter and email), it's not the recipe for a transformational experience.
But I'm out of the red and back on top after a couple of good days. My colleague, Donatien, has been instrumental in this migration. While I'm complaining about not feeling useful, he's coming up with projects. After making a statement about the distance of our house from the office, he demands that I accompany him and a visitor to the Mbagala station. Also, another coworker has been giving me a good taste of non-Mzungu socializing.
So today required a bajaj (auto rickshaw) to the city center (we passed some fender benders and horrible traffic along the way), tracked down an elusive hotel, found the visitor, took a dala-dala (minibus) to Mbagala. I assumed my role as mysterious observer, only asking questions when I'm really curious about something, not forcing any interactions. Then that passivity is shaken when the visitor wants to see the home of a customer. I object, saying people aren't prepared for that intrusive activity. I get overruled and then eagerly accompany the group by taxi. We see an office with two lights powered by a single battery. The lights work; the customer is happy; we return to the station. Instead of heading back to the office in Dar with Donatien and the visitor, I stick around; I'm on a roll and there's an opportunity to see an installation.
It requires some serious transportation, but I accompany three fundis (technicians, all teens) to a remote village, where a Muslim school ordered the installation of six light bulbs in a dorm for boys. Now there are a lot of wild things about this. I gave up trying to learn Swahili and the fundis know some English, but when I can't pronounce the name of one of them (a common problem I encounter), I accidentally call him husband. Just one example of how entertaining I am to them. Then we pile in a van that will take us to the remote village. I try to not be an imposition, but carrying one bag of our supplies might draw more attention: mzungu lady with 3 guys doing manual labor.
We get to the village without a problem, it's around 2 pm when we arrive. The guys track down our client. Client's piki-piki (motorcycle) carries the equipment off, we walk with boys that I assume are his sons, but are probably students at the school. We walk for about a mile to the site, and when we arrive I see that this is a complicated job with extensive wiring, six switches and two batteries. One fundi climbs up in the tresses immediately; he's the lead, and his helpers are ready to work.
Me? I'm given a chair and instructed to sit, so I watch in awe, wishing that they would give me something to do because the only role I'm currently playing is white girl on display. Definitely a rare species in this environment. I manage to insist on helping, handing them tools and attempting to strip wires, but ultimately I appear bored and tired when in reality I'm incredibly impressed that these youngsters are making this happen. The only problem is that I feel like I'm going to faint. I had a huge breakfast of two (2!) avocados, but no water or snacks since 7 am. Luckily I'm gifted a coconut (laughter erupts among the crowd of kids and teachers when I try to pay for it), which is the most refreshing and delicious thing I've ever experienced.
Boys come in and out of the dorm, changing between their street clothes and their traditional white Muslim thobes. A few women pass by and I wish that I could communicate with them, but all I can manage is to shake hands, smile and say asante (thank you). Dusk arrives and voices rise to sing the daily prayers. "Husband" tells me that I have to go, it's getting late. I wonder what time they will finish the installation because it looks like they still have quite a bit of work to do. I'm escorted to the town center, where we arrived by van. But wait! I'm told that there are no vans at this time. A Muslim teacher/warden/superintendent? negotiates a solution: a motorcycle ride to a street with vans that drive back to the station. Yikes. No helmets, but no choice. I take a big gulp and saddle up.
I haven't mentioned the setting. It's incredibly beautiful. It reminds me a lot of rural Zambia, but with coconut trees and pineapple plants. This seems like paradise. The ride is long on a sandy road through small villages, but it's much smoother and more enjoyable than I anticipated. Then I have to shove myself onto a van, squished between people and sacks of potatoes. When I get to Mbagala, I find a luxurious dala-dala to Mwenge (my neighborhood in Dar), so I'm home free! Except traffic congestion means that I don't get home until 9:30 pm. Regardless, I am content. I look at the asphalt that has been squished by the combination of heat and heavy trucks, grateful for the mild weather and feeling like this day has had a similar and lasting impression on me.
Lights, camera, action? Today we installed lights. I did not have a camera. But I am on my way to having more action in my Tanzania life. I chug water and inhale dinner and manage to have a nightmare-free sleep. Undeniably transformational.
