Medasi

I’m one of those crazy people who falls in love with places. Everywhere. All the time. It is probably for this reason that I have not the slightest idea of the geography of my future.

But now, as I prepare to part ways with what has been a love story in Ghana, let me leave you with a few of the insights I’m taking forward:

Beer bottles of 625ml are obviously a better idea than anything in a more moderate size.

Buying massive quantities of textiles is certainly a noble pursuit. #supportinglocaleconomies so don’t hate me, pops.

Nothing compares to Azonto, highlife, and West African rhythm in general. Nothing.

Shop names can be boring. But they don’t have to be:

Travelling without portable speakers and a French press? Suicidal.

Complicating what is simple or simplifying what is complicated – equally suicidal.

If it wasn’t so tough, motivating, inspiring, and heartbreaking all at once, it simply wouldn’t be what it has been – all the more worthwhile.

Until next time Ghana – keep it real,

T

A post-MIA Thought

FRIENDS!

It’s been a long while since I last visited this space. I’ve found it difficult to just sit down and write about the work, the changes, the ups and the downs. But here goes an attempt to change that around –

I recently had the opportunity of stepping outside of my usual routine to support an independent review of a multi-donor budgetary support mechanism called the District Development Facility that represents over $200 million being dispersed to local District Assemblies throughout the country. The evaluation was exciting in many ways – it was something new and pushed me to work just a little harder to bring value to the extremely experienced team I joined. It also gave me an opportunity to broaden my understanding of Ghana’s decentralization process across regions and levels ranging from the local to the national.

Here are two things that stood out to me during the process that I believe have relevance outside of public sector governance:

The right idea at the wrong time is still the wrong idea

Timing is everything, isn’t it? Work and life, it seems the same deal. Ghana’s process of decentralization has all the “big picture” ideas/institutions in place but the devil is always in the details. A lot of the implications of the policy process simply haven’t been thought through or confronted along the line from central to local government and thus hinder the potential for impact. The net result? Confusion is ubiquitous with a system constantly in flux. It’s all the right ideas but not at all the right times.

Diplomacy takes discipline

There is maturity and patience in being able to restrain a personal opinion. And there is tact and wisdom in knowing when this holding back is necessary. What’s important in this process is the ability to recognize and be intentional about the “tensions” we want to create. Shout out to my team leader for bringing this to light in practice!

Until next time,
T

What does it take?

When meetings, conferences, or workshops begin, the facilitator requests a volunteer to commence the program with a prayer. If we start the day with a Muslim prayer, we are sure to close it with a Christian one.

Walking through town, I will often hear a mixture of Dagbani, Twi, English, and probably a whole host of other dialects that are beyond my knowledge and therefore, recognition.

To me, these are small, simple expressions of peaceful co-existence. And I believe they speak to a broader narrative and greater success – tolerance in society. But of course, there are misgivings on occasion and these are confronted with callous words and maybe even aggression to some degree. At other times, it comes with a more subtle, persistent, and complex “othering” – for example, through the common misconceptions that Northerner’s are rural, uneducated, lacking poise and decorum; their Twi not carrying the same cadence and confidence as one from the South. These are very real expressions of stratification in Ghanaian society and are reflected and reinforced through the discrepancies in access to opportunities. The common grievance – “everything is in Accra” – speaks to the challenge of achieving broad-based and inclusive growth.

These are not socio-political and economic challenges unique to Ghana. In fact, Ghana looks like a dream compared to Sri Lanka. Today, 30 years ago, my very own country fell into unimaginable turmoil and has since failed to acknowledge and uphold minority populations as more than just second class citizens. And again, here, economic status intersects with ethnic and religions divisions to further complicate the gradient of belonging, power, and privilege.

In Canada, we celebrate the “mosaic” but are compelled to face the bitter reality that practicing multiculturalism is in no way a substitute for diversity. We exist in ethnic enclaves and hold to cultural stereotypes that limit sincere interactions outside of race, colour, and creed. (I think university is a special place because here, sometimes, we are able to transcend these constructed barriers). Or, we make efforts by way of policies and programs to support immigrants and refugees, but fail to offer the same courtesies and privileges to the indigenous of our land.

So, today, I’m left wondering – is it truly beyond our moral and political imagination to build the policies, legal frameworks, and institutions that can enable a diversity of people to thrive?
Can we distinguish between competing perspectives on governance and build systems that are resonant with the people? Or is a specific pattern of legalism, policy, and governance so entrenched in our cognitive psyche that we cannot imagine an alternate system and way of being?

Forever with more questions than answers and often on the verge of an existential crises…

Create

For the last few weeks, I’ve found myself lost in routine; the monotony of daily life. Work has kept a steady pace although on certain occasions, I have been ready to strangle more than one person. Life too, has thrown in her own set of twists and turns to mark my heart with just a little more chaos than I would ordinarily prefer.

For me, this is a scary place – this place of monotony and blah – not because I am uncomfortable with the ordinary but because an uninspired life leads me to complacency. And complacency is something I fear deeply. Why? Well, because there is too much to learn about, care about, work for, and change.

So, my goal is to move away from doing. Instead, I will strive to create. When I limit myself to doing, it is driven by a list, a requirement, a predefined set of outcomes I am expected to meet. When I create, I stand and reach out to the world from a place of vision. It brings me back to the bigger picture – the WHY of what I do. For me, it’s more than just a change in language; it’s a change in perspective.

Manifesto credit goes to Design Affects

xox,

t

“Africapitalism”

It appeared on my newsfeed and instantly caught my attention. Definitely a buzz word in the making – here to accompany the plethora that are gaining traction at a dizzying speed – “impact investing”, “venture philanthropy”, “social enterprise”.

The article, which appeared in the Guardian earlier today, speaks to the role and potential the private sector plays in fuelling Africa’s socio-economic growth. More specifically, – “Africapitalism” – which, according to Tony Elumelu “is the philosophy that the African private sector has the power to transform the continent through long-term investments, creating both economic prosperity and social wealth.”

Undoubtedly, the private sector and long-term investments that prove an alternative to traditional forms of bilateral or multilateral aid are a necessity; capitalism and markets have a lot to offer. But as with most things, there’s always more to it than meets the eye.

Two thoughts lingered subsequent to my reading –

1) The role of government – the world of policy and bureaucracy does not carry nearly the same favourable ring as “venture philanthropy”. But a look at what’s holding back the continent’s low-cost airlines clearly affirms the pivotal role the government needs to play in setting up the “rules” and institutional support mechanisms to enable and sustain the innovations and economic growth that the private sector can fuel. The rise in public-private partnerships in various sectors (energy, for example) is a step in the right direction and illustrates the potential benefits to be garnered from a mixed approach. To be fair, I don’t think anyone is disputing the role of government – and in this particular piece, Duncan Green notes its importance. But too often, I think we fail to bring that conversation to the forefront.

2) The article uses powerful language without doing much to push the reader to exercise caution in adopting the vernacular of venture philanthropy and the rest. A good and relatively well accepted idea – the role of the private sector/investment in socio-economic growth – is therefore pushed forward with a new glamour. This is not to say that I don’t believe in the potential impact of social enterprise, impact investing, or “africapitalism”. Rather, it is to suggest that such endeavours need to be monitored rigorously and not mistaken for the “silver bullet.” A failure to acknowledge caution can allow a proliferation of well-to-do-but-not-so-equipped new entrants into an industry of impact – what may be a dangerous reconfiguration of the aid industry on more nuanced terms.

All of it brought me crashing back to Liam Black’s cautionary wisdom, voiced in his Letter to a Young Social Entrepreneur

There is every reason to be optimistic. The fact that “Africapitalism” echoes and affirms the emergence of a new narrative of the continent is uplifting. But moderation and a healthy dose of skepticism amidst the winds of change have yet to kill anyone.

t

Little Moments

When the plumber is to come to the house at 10am on a Saturday but instead makes his way over on a Wednesday morning at 8:30 without any notice and is then surprised when I’m surprised. God forbid I have a schedule of my own. But then of course, he begins narrating little elements of his life story, wife, kids, the whole dealio, and I can only shake my head and concede – yes, we’re on your terms here.

When the watchman at the house lets the neighborhood children in to our garden to stock up on cashews and chase around chickens and then somehow the key to the front gate disappears and sends all of us on an unwelcome hunt. Or when he casually leaves the keys outside the front gate…We yell and scream at each other but it is invariably followed by apologies and more often than not, my returning to the house with mangoes or malt as my peace offering

When I step into recycled parts and rusted metals where when inside, the door can only be opened with an artful reach over the window to the outside. Turning on the engine requires a careful binding and connecting of wires (the key doesn’t work as we would ordinarily expect). And I wonder how on earth this constitutes a taxi. But in the hot blazing sun, it is a reliable escape – quick, efficient, and unfailingly gets me from A to B.

When I hurriedly get to the Melcom (the equivalent of Wal-Mart) to pick up some red vino and toilet cleaner (life’s clear essentials), stand for a seeming eternity in line, only to have a woman stroll past the entire queue to the cashier. I’m about to cause a scene (I see my mother in myself these days) but I’m too humored – there she is, with an empty basket and child in tow, and 6 wall-clocks piled neatly on her head. #africanwoman. I have only the greatest respect for the art of carrying goods in such a manner but I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene (the other ladies in the line? we bonded)

Where and when I am annoyed, I’m most definitely annoyed. But somehow, through it all, I am humored, humbled, and pushed to practice just a bit more patience each day. The chaos, the imperfection, the hidden systems of function in an outwardly dysfunctional system…this is what ultimately brings me joy.

Call it for what it is

Here’s to an issue that has no geographical boundaries or racial preferences –
__________________________________________________________

My legs will stretch out from underneath my dress with no apology.

My hips will curve out like a neat bottle of cola and exist with no apology.

Mascara may sometimes decorate my lashes and my eyes will occasionally dress up. But they will appear with no apology.

My hair will carelessly fall over my shoulders, be whipped back into a bun, be twirled into a twist at the nape of my neck. My hair will be what it wants to be without any apology.

When I stepped into your office, I was welcomed by the usual cheer of both you and your colleagues. But something quickly changed. You, and him, and him, were examining me with a string of thoughts; a brief wondering about the ways, tastes, and textures of foreign flesh. I could read it in your eyes and the way your lips turned upward in that halfway smile. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. I have an intuition; a sense you will never know about. And I have met many like you before.

You offered up the usual harmless banter about the need for me to get a husband and then shifted to a slightly less appreciated conversation around my refusal to sleep with you – a conversation laced with an air of humour and gentle teasing and muddled with clear signs of your serious questioning.

But when you told me I should “penetrate a man”, you crossed that fine line.

And you crossed it again, and again, and again.

You crossed it when you held my arm too tightly, despite feeling me writhing beneath your firm grip.

You crossed it when you told me that I’ve gained weight and that my bigger breasts are the sign of it. You crossed it when you crudely suggested they are being hugged together in a way…

And I walked out.

I laugh, dismiss, shake my head, and continue with the carefree ease that has come to be my signature at the office.

You are able to say what you want to say because I have allowed you to. I did not care enough about you to waste my energy on you. I found it less stressful and less emotionally exhaustive to ignore you than to engage with you about that place – the insecure, low, and objectifying place – from which those comments emanate. You’re not a bad person, really. But somehow, you’ve not lived in the true strength of manhood. You have existed in its shadows, in its false pretenses, and in its vain attempts. And since you have bound your sense of self so intimately with me – your manhood with women – I beg to say that you have not been privileged to experience a woman for what she truly is.

For you look at your women but you do not see them. You listen to your women but you do not hear them. You touch your women but you often do not feel them.

So from now on, I will call it for what it is. Because otherwise, you will continue with your ways – from me to her. And suppose she spoke out to you? You would attribute it to a difference in personality. You would suggest that I am cool and calm, fun and easy going. And you will think of her as too serious, no fun, and too up-tight.

But it isn’t about personality. Because when you shoot, we both fall, for I am her and she is me.

So from now on, I will call it for what it is. I will invite you to conversations and endeavour to elegantly deconstruct the patriarchy and false manhood that has defined your vernacular and your very being.

And you should know – you have not battered or broken me. Not by any means. But I have robbed you of an opportunity to grow and to change – to be the type of man that I could respect and admire.

So I will continue to be brilliant and bold and beautiful. And I will exist without apology, without excuses, without reserve. But I will no longer walk away from calling it what it is. Harassment.

Change and Adaptive Leadership

It’s common vernacular – “people don’t like change”

But somehow, it’s not entirely true. I was recently doing some reading on adaptive leadership and came across a discussion on the topic of change and the common misconception that we are averse to it. In truth, it isn’t about change; it’s about loss. When change involves potential loss (real or perceived), our natural tendency is to cling to the familiar. The authors go on to say that the crucial factor therefore, is the ability to understand and articulate these potential losses in terms of relationships, wealth, status, loyalty, identity, competence etc. Of course, that isn’t going to solve all the problems since the question of loss is a difficult one – both emotionally and intellectually difficult to think through or foresee. It is however, an important question to work through in the praxis of adaptive leadership (and life in general).

It’s also not only about loss – it’s additionally, a question of what to preserve –

Adaptation is a process of conservation as well as loss. Although the losses of change are the hard part, adaptive change is mostly not about change at all. The question is not only, “Of all that we care about, what must be given up to survive and thrive going forward?” but also, “Of all that we care about, what elements are essential and must be preserved into the future, or we will lose precious values, core competencies, and lose who we are?

(source details below)

In a nutshell, we can start asking ourselves two questions – what do we have to lose and what is crucial to retain?

These are two questions that I have re-visited quite frequently in the last while with small and comparatively bigger decisions both personally and in a more professional context.

I hope this gives you something to think about as you approach inevitable changes in your life too. After all, change is the only constant.

t

PS – By now you should know never to believe anything I say. Take it from the source – “The Practice of Adaptive Leadership: Tools and Tactics for Changing Your Organization and the World”

By Ronald Heifetz, Alexander Grashow, and Marty Linsky

Searching for Dorothy

Not long ago, I came across an article on Think Africa Press that highlighted the need to restructure the approach and reconsider the voices that would inform the post-2015 development agenda.

While the article is worth reading in its entirety, here is what proved crucial to me:

The MDGs did not set out to empower citizens to take on the positive challenge of strengthening their own communities in the targeted areas. The burden lay with wealthy nations – it was a plan drafted upon the benevolence of the rich towards the poor, making MDGs more philanthropic goals than indicators of genuine human development.

Essentially, the MDGs were established on the presumption of developed countries’ expertise in the intimate complexities of developing countries; a “we-know-what-you-need-and-how-you-need-it-fixed” paradigm. They were founded on an implicit superiority complex that held citizens of developing countries to be unable to understand the intricacies of their own predicaments, and therefore incapable of formulating workable, home-grown solutions.

And that’s a problem.

I believe the MDGs can brand and motivate solidarity and zeal for the development agenda. But clearly, that’s not enough. It isn’t supposed to start and end as a marketing campaign to invite philanthropic interest. To what extent are these goals and associated development interventions truly resonant with those whom they are intended to serve, uplift, and empower? To what extent are they truly owned by the voices of the ‘periphery’?

These questions matter at the level of the international policy arena just as they ought to matter to the ordinary individual engaged in the development sector.

I think a huge part of the question is recognizing the faces to whom we hold ourselves accountable. Let me frame these questions of accountability in terms of EWB’s “Dorothy.”

“Dorothy” takes on a number of different angles, shades, realities. She is a unique, evolving, and sometimes an elusive image. But most importantly, she is the face to whom we endeavour to hold ourselves accountable, either as individuals or broadly as ventures.

I see Dorothy in the Officer I work with everyday, who struggles against a de-motivating and complex system, where the merits of decentralization remain largely on paper.

I see Dorothy in Assembly Members – elected representatives who often feel disconnected from the District Assembly’s work due to lack of information and disengagement during decision-making (with the exception of formal planning seasons like the development of Medium Term Development Plans). Here, “Dorothy” struggles to clarify the perceptions the public holds of her against her actual ability to directly respond to requests put forth by her constituents; a typical agency-responsibility imbalance.

I see Dorothy specifically in female Assembly Members and Officers, who compete against cultural norms and power imbalances to get elected and enter the governance system.

And so G&RI asks – what tools, opportunities, resources, and co-created attempts at change creation can we support? How can we lend fresh eyes to the system? How can we contribute to and enhance the conversations that are being led by the national, regional, and district level authorities around strong governance?

While this may sound entirely sensible, there was a tension at play. My Dorothy highlighted that my efforts were not directly connected to the “poorest of the poor”. The latter is more often than not, the sexy thing to be doing; it’s the story that sells.

When I first began at EWB, there was an unwritten expectation that Dorothy would invariably reflect the “base of the pyramid” profile. I therefore struggled to find Dorothy in my work, when essentially, I was spending most of my time with individuals who reflected a higher income bracket, had access to basic services, etc. Yes, they were professionals.

I quickly realized that the image of Dorothy I encountered while training in Toronto needed a facelift. While my new conceptualization of Dorothy didn’t reflect the base of the pyramid, I began to understand that this was perhaps a good thing. Dorothy does not always need to conform to the socio-economic demographics of a base of pyramid kind of client because potential impact could lie outside of this face of accountability. This is not to suggest that the margins don’t matter; they do. It simply suggests that at times, we may not be the best equipped to serve Dorothy and the base of the pyramid directly. I believe this is particularly true in the governance sector where EWB is NOT providing services (boreholes etc.) parallel to the efforts of the government. Moreover, a District Officer (or an equivalent local institution or counterpart) is likely more culturally sensitive, intuitive, and cognizant of the latent needs and interests of “Dorothy” and therefore, if motivated, supported, and encouraged in his/her innovations, more likely to ensure positive impact transfers to those whom we intend to serve at scalable and sustainable manner – Dorothy and her family. My job therefore, is to recognize, build, and resource potential.

To be fair, I do believe there are development interventions that can hold “Dorothy” as the face of accountability directly. Interventions in mobile technology come to mind. What proves important here however, is the crucial significance of context and a critical reflection on the predominant motivation for articulating Dorothy a certain way.

The most exciting part about my image of G&RI’s Dorothy is that I see her at the decision-making table. She is not simply represented. She informs the agenda. She brings it to the forefront. And we, as development workers, participate in a conversation that she is leading.

I think it’s about time we were OK with it.

T

An Empathy Walk – Trying to Make it Work

“Only eight rupees to the tailor, only twenty-two cents!” they would say, triumphantly translating everything into American currency; and while the shopping was converted into dollars, tips to the servants could be calculated in local currency: “fifteen hundred rupees, is he mad? Give him one hundred, even that’s too much”

“They are so scared they’ll get taken advantage of because of their wealth, they try and bargain down on the cheapest room”

From Kiran Desai’s “The Inheritance of Loss”

That was me. Foreign exchange rates – once at the recesses of my mind – now at the very forefront and a seeming second voice evaluating every transaction. But it wasn’t the price of the room in the guesthouse I had an issue with. Bargaining with taxi drivers – this was my battleground.

You say 8 cedis (approximately CAD 4)? I say 4.

This foreigner is not about to take a hit…

And the debate begins.

I didn’t often see taxi drivers beyond the single dimension of their occupation. The grounds for our interaction were limited solely to when I needed to venture from A to B.

So when our Acumen course encouraged an exploration of empathy, I took it as my opportunity to redefine my ‘battleground’.

Let me tell you a bit about Ibrahim.

He wears a mischievous grin, slender and poised, with a beard he always makes a point to joke about – he calls himself mini-Osama (I’m not about to get into the politics of his humour!).

I had hopped into his car on more than one occasion. And with time, our interactions grew more amicable and easy. As casual banter, greetings in the morning, and a joke or two here and there came to define our relationship, I no longer fixated or debated the three or four cedis he sought when dropping me. It’s funny what a little bit of familiarity can do.

But really, I still didn’t know anything about this man’s life or any of the other taxi drivers I passed by on a daily basis. I had often wondered how they managed to make it work. Especially in a comparatively small town like Yendi, where most people walk, take bicycles, or ride along on motos, I couldn’t imagine a reliable revenue stream. Along with my questions were a series of assumptions and misconceptions. Often times, I would see them sitting around, chatting with each other. And my mind would say…what the heck are you doing? Why are you just sitting there? Do something! Be productive! (Of course, I had no idea what I expected them to do or what I had imagined as an image of productivity…)

Thankfully, I’ve had an opportunity to clarify some of my perspectives and learn a few lessons in the process.

Here’s what I didn’t know:

Ibrahim is a farmer. Before my eyes have even opened for the day, he has spent hours working the land. Yams are his speciality.

He has 5 daughters, all of whom he is putting through school. It isn’t easy but he firmly believes it is only by God’s grace and provision that he survives.

Every week, he pays 70 GHC to the owner of the taxi. That means, each day, he is should be making 10 GHC. Some days are good, others are not – market days are usually the best. Each day, he will save if he can. And like many others in his taxi rink, he will endeavour to deposit savings at the local banks.

Sometimes, they get together and take part in what they called, adashi. That is, at the end of a given time frame (be it weekly or monthly), everybody in the group puts forward the decided amount into a pool. That pool of money goes to one person and the collection switches hands each round.

Clearly, being a “taxi driver” was just a small part of the story.

Today, I met enterprising, intelligent men. Men who worked hard to make ends meet but slowed down to just be – to live each day with the confidence that their efforts would be enough; God was on their side.

Today, I met men who held their dignity in their ability to somehow, make it work.

Today, I met men who exemplified the grace to give a cedi or two when it was needed and who had the humility to ask when their own needs arose.

Today, I was presented (yet again) with a teaching of reciprocity.

Today, I was reminded of the importance of just getting up, dressing up, and showing up – no matter what it is we are called to do in this life of ours.

Today, I was reminded that it wasn’t easy.

My battleground was re-defined. I will never know or fully understand the realities of Ibrahim’s life or the trials that may mark his every day. But I can share a small part of his daily walk.

And that’s a lesson in empathy.

I’m not about to go along with every absurd price put my way, but I am more inclined to step back, chuckle, reflect, and re-evaluate my response. One thing is for sure – I definitely don’t think the average taxi driver is out to get me – they’re likely just trying to make things work.

Every once in a while, we can endeavour to step outside our own skin. I ask you, how can empathy inform your own opinions and interactions?

Xox,

T

P.S. Kiran Desai explores some of the deepest contradictions of the human heart and puts words, feelings, and a semblance of sense into the complex queries of identity politics with a clarity I still can’t get over. If you haven’t already read “The Inheritance of Loss”, it’s definitely a book worth picking up!