Tropical Traumas

Apologies for my absence. I'd like to say it's because we're busy moving. Or because we're having lots of meetings for the hospital. Both of those are true. But the truth is, I have been feeling below par...no energy, bad headaches, and fevers. The good news is that we have not found any large African river leeches clinging to any part of my body. Which means that I can't act like the imperial Miss Hepburn or any other African Queen, and I know several.

Please be patient. I'll get back to normal soon...or whatever my normal is...

Home by 10

It’s Monday. All day it has been totally Monday. Started with a trip to the hospital for blood tests. A good start. I was in and out in 20 minutes. When we arrived at 8:30, there was a line of 30 people waiting to pay $5 for a consultation. Nathalie’s nephew Quentin has had an ear infection and needed to see a doc. He was still waiting when I left.

Paul, the ever-patient, ever-helpful, ever-compassionate Paul, stayed with Quentin at the hospital to be sure that he was well-treated and also to be sure that he got through the process as quickly as possible. Paul has an innate ability to see an opportunity and seize it, whether it’s on the highway or at the fish market or at the hospital. Because Paul was waiting with Quentin and Nathalie needed the car, Paul gave me the key and asked me to drive home.

I felt like a 16 year old whose dad just handed the keys over for the first time. I’ve been here three months and I have driven but it’s mostly been between our house and the supermarket, which is a straight shot: three kilometers along the beach road. The freeway? Never, except as a passenger. And you know, being a passenger allows one to daydream, look out the window at the community busses that look like they are either going to roll over because 25 people are hanging onto the outside or are going to explode because the cloud of blue smoke billowing around the vehicle suggests it is on fire. Or to stare at the horsecarts that are in the third lane, wondering if Black Beauty had it this hot and this hard. Or pondering how the 6-6 guy with the 4-foot stack of fresh eggs pallets balanced on his head ever trips or stumbles or tries to go in an entrance that is just not high enough. Or thinking about the women in their traditional dresses and whether they are hot or cool or how long it takes to get ready in the morning. Just about anything except paying attention.

But Paul handed me the key. And 10 minutes later, I pulled into our parking spot And I did feel like a teenager.

Closer to you!

The up side of going to bed at 8:30 on two consecutive nights, coupled with sleeping six hours during the day, is being awake! And feeling good! At 4 a.m. this morning, I was ready to get up in house where “not a creature was stirring,” except the mouse in the kitchen. So I did At 8, I had my coffee and fresh-out-of-the-oven baguette from Mama Mia, the restaurant down the street. I felt fantastic!

By 9 a.m., we were on our way to the new house, ready for an adventure in unpacking. When we left at 7 pm, all was as done as it could be for now: The clothes were hung in their closets. The showers and toilets are clean. Every single thing is in its appropriate place in the appropriate room of the appropriate owner. The garbage is bagged. The turtles are content (or so it seems to me. How do you know with a turtle?). The rabbits are en route right now…and I’m sure by morning they will be acquainted with the chickens and sheep next door. The chickens and sheep live on the side opposite the Italian ambassador, who does not have any kind of livestock.)

It’s a good house: light with at least two big windows in every room, terraces for each room, lots of cross ventilation with the ocean breeze refreshing and cooling the inside temperatures, even when it’s hot outside. There’s space to spread out. It’s good. It’s conducive to work and play. Especially good is having an office where Nathalie and I can work and a studio where Paul can write and record music. The yard has grass, which is great for Seal. With a wall surrounding the property, he will have lots of freedom. Nice to be able to use that line from my childhood, which I never hear in New York: “I think it’s time for you go outside and play?”

The new house is a five-minute walk from the nicest beach in Dakar. It’s also about a kilometer from The Point, which is the western-most point in Africa. When I stand on that little bit of land that juts out into the Atlantic, I’ll be as close to home as I’m going to get for 10 more weeks.

And I’ll be thinking of all of you!

Bug Bite!

My head hurts. It really hurts!

Yesterday around 3, it started. Sort sneaked up on me and smacked me in the back of my head. It’s is “un grand mal de la tete” and it is accompanied by fever and chills. I slept 14 hours last night. Got up at 7 and went back to bed for two hours.

Nathalie sent me to the hospital this morning to get a malaria test. Negative.

But I got an opportunity to observe how the healthcare system works in a public hospital. Overriding everything was an attitude of courtesy. Everyone was polite and orderly and quiet. But I couldn’t figure out what the system was.

I paid for my consultation ($5) before I saw the doctor and was immediately called for my exam. He sent me to get a test with instructions to come back with the results. As soon as I sat down to wait for the test, which involved a simple finger stick, I was called into the testing room. Fifteen minutes later I was in his office being told that I have an infection, not malaria, and I need to return on Monday morning for a blood test.

There’s not much difference in how health care is delivered in the US and Senegal. The cost is radically lower here. The surroundings in the US are a little nicer: Here, we sat on hard benches in the hallways, but everything was very clean. The women who deliver the care wear really exotic head coverings because they are Muslim…and I’m not talking about the Flying Nun sort of head gear. I came home with two prescriptions that cost $5.50.

I still feel crappy. But time is essential for healing. Time heals all wounds and wounds all heels. It is the difference between a bad haircut and a good one. And I will probably feel better tomorrow morning.

Home = Grill

Our household is in some sort of home stretch, rounding the curve to the straightaway and heading toward the finish line. I wish I could tell you that the hospital is getting ready to open and we’re working our way through the punch list. It’s not.

We’re in the late stages of preparing to move. By tomorrow afternoon, the container with all of Nathalie’s belongings should have been delivered to our new home. It’s a 40-ft container that has been transiting from Switzerland to Senegal since the end of May. When it finally arrives, our household, which this week consists of Paul, Nathalie, Seal, Nathalie’s sister Janette, her nephews Yann and Quentin, Quentin’s girlfriend Pauline et moi (and me), will unpack with help from Paul’s best friend Youssou, and probably his nephew Miguel, cousin Ebou and one or two other of his other pals.

We will marvel at what’s in the container: all the long-lived-without amenities like coffeemakers, cuisinarts, matching knives/forks/spoons, grill, TVs, living room suite, matching sheets and pillowcases…things that you really take for granted until you don’t have them. And let me assure you, we haven’t had them in this rental. It hasn’t been bad here, but it hasn’t been Frette linens and Wedgewood either.

I just asked Nathalie which of her belongings she’s missed the most over the past six months. She replied as I expected: “I don’t even remember what I have.” And then, after a few minutes thought, she yelled down from the second floor: “I’ve missed my big contemporary African painting the most.”

I thought for sure she would have said her stereo or her accordion (yes, Nathalie plays, and plays very well). The cool thing about Nathalie and Paul is that they don’t require stuff to have a home. They have Seal and an abundance of hospitality. And that seems to be what it takes.

Enough!

OK. I’ve had it. For three months, I’ve accepted the power outages that became predictable. I was quiet about it when they were daily occurrences…once a day.

Now, it’s different. They’re still regular but they’re regular three or four times per day. And they’re so regular that one could say they are planned. For instance, they generally occur at 10 am, 1:30 pm, 4 pm and 7:30 pm. In fact, during the World Cup, the power went off precisely :30 after the last game ended each evening.

The outages are 1-2 hours in length. The challenge in our household is not necessarily losing electrically powered conveniences, like laptops, which do have batteries and will continue to run. And light because during the day, we have natural light. And in the evening, we have a generator. It’s the loss of the internet, which is wireless and operates from our neighbor’s home. When the power goes down, the antenna shuts down and must be rebooted manually. You get the picture: when no one is home, no reboot and no internet. So Skype calls for business are interrupted or don’t happen on time, documents, which were to be delivered against a deadline, aren’t delivered. Suddenly, it’s clear why Africa runs somewhat on an ‘as-needed basis”. The infrastructure is unreliable, and consequently, there’s a laxness about deadlines that doesn’t exist in developed cultures.

It’s an interesting way to learn. And it’s not necessarily what I want, but it’s what I have.

Seal and the Guys

For a couple of weeks, Seal has acquired some new playmates. His cousins—Yann and Quentin—are here with Quentin’s girlfriend Paulina and their mom Janette. Seal is in heaven. He is the center of someone’s attention all the time, and there are lots of men around. Seal really likes men and cars and tools and football.

Boys come with lots of equipment…computers and iPods and cameras and phones, of course. They also help out a lot. Whenever something needs to be done, they’re ready to help. It’s nice. Sweet guys. Again, I find myself wishing my French were better because I’d like to find out more about them. They seem like really great guys…and there’s a third one at home in Switzerland.

Nice family.

Amazed by life

Many amazing things have happened since I’ve been on this adventure. Generally they involve people…people who were one human connection away, who relieved some loneliness or isolation, who offered advice that opened my eyes a bit wider, who had had an experience that changed my understanding, who were the solution to a problem or in more euphemistic terms, the answer to a prayer.

I’m writing this while en route from Brussels to Dakar, Brussels Airlines 235. It departs daily at 11:25 and arrives in Dakar at 3:25, continuing on to Freetown, Sierra Leone. A month ago today, I was flying from Amsterdam through Brussels back to Dakar, just as today I am flying from Warsaw through Brussels back to Dakar. On the flight a month ago I sat next to a man with whom I had no intention of having a conversation. But we did. He is the ambassador to the European Union from Sierra Leone. He is an economist who worked at the World Bank before volunteering to be his country’s ambassador. He has a PhD in agricultural economics from the University of Illinois, and because of that, he has been to Central Kansas. With unaided recall, he recounted that his studies had taken him into the triangle—Salina, Hays, Great Bend—that surrounds Hoisington. That alone was amazing.

Because I'm so bloody impressed with credentials, I should mention that he is also ambassador to Spain, Portugal, Belgium and The Vatican. His title is actually "Pleniponetiary for the Republic of Sierra Leone". Cool title.

Last night in Brussels, we had dinner together. Our friendship started with seat assignments on Brussels Airlines 237 to Dakar in June. He was in 18 K and I was in 18 H. We emailed a few times between then and now. Last night we laughed about a recent exchange. He sent a note apologizing for having not responded quickly when I emailed about traveling through Brussels. His reason was the best excuse I have ever received: He had been with the Pope. Yes, THAT Pope. He serves as an international aid adviser to The Vatican. [I'm practicing restraint: No political commentary about the guy in Rome.]

Last night, I brought him up-to-date on progress with the Hospital of Hope, the breakthroughs and the new supporters we have added over the past month: Chris Atim at the World Bank, Assalane Abou at the Pamecas Foundation, Madji Sock at Focus Africa and Assalane Sylva who is a structural engineerthe Then, our conversation turned to the future possibility of working together in support of Sierra Leone and development projects in his home country.

I asked how he saw me as a potential team member. I was surprised by how quickly he observed and understood one of things it has taken me a long time to appreciate about myself: “You know how to speak with passion and hope about the vision that other people have.” Then he smiled and chuckled, adding: “Every team needs someone like you because we economists don’t do that so well.”

It was a moment that will stay with me for a long time. The future? We’ll see. But it is beginning to include possibilities of which I never dreamed.

March On

The sun’s flawless rising at 4 a.m. promised a clear, hot day, perfect for everything but especially for marching through the streets of Warsaw.

This was not the usual and ordinary GLBT pride parade. We were warned. We were given security guidelines. We were told to avoid certain gay bars and clubs. We were given every phone number we could possibly need to use in order to get out of jail or another type of jam. We were not encouraged to participate.

This parade was much like the other in which I’ve participated for the past 30 years. Whether in New York or San Francisco, in Amsterdam and Zurich, there’s a certain festivity to pride parades that is peculiarly gay. It’s like walking a long way with your entire social network…family and extended family really dear friends, social acquaintances, business colleagues, community members you don’t know well but work with, people you’d like to know but haven’t ever met…and as you walk the three or four or five miles…taking photos…getting acquainted with new people, cruising the crowd for hotties…you talk and talk and talk and laugh and it’s fun. And the EuroPride March in Warsaw was all that.

This is Eastern Europe, which is precisely why EuroPride chose to stage its annual celebration in Poland. In this very modern city and in other parts of the region, there is very real repression of GLBT people. Poland is a member of the European Union, which mandates the equality of all people in civil society. But LGBT people experience discrimination and violence here is reminiscent of the country’s repressive history and is replicated in Russia, the Balkan states, and other countries in Eastern Europe.

EuroPride was prepared. But I wasn’t. The police presence was very visible and very large. It included uniformed cops in riot gear, plainclothes cops (some in very gay outfits0, mounted police, motorcycle cops, and enough community members volunteering as security monitors to line the entire parade route. I was glad for their presence, because the protesters were also out in force, making ugly comments, throwing eggs and graffiti-ing visually disturbing graphics and messages about gay people on sidewalks and buildings. I watched three big cops tackle one very, very angry young man who was threatening a group of gay men as they walked through the park en route to the parade. I watched other cops surround a mob-like group of protesters, who were screaming Christian epithets and threatening to pray for our souls.

I never felt unsafe today, but I certainly got a dose of reality that is everyday life for many LGBT people in the developing world. I’m grateful for the planning, the police and the precaution. I was happy to be visible. As one of the young, smart, activists who had attended the conference said, "we were acting as a surrogate for some Polish queer who couldn’t be visible." It’s a privilege to live openly…I hope our visibility today served a purpose, perhaps giving someone an opportunity to rethink their beliefs about LGBT people.

Be the Change

Changing the world seems to be the fulltime occupation of many of the world’s inhabitants.

Think about it: Nicholas Kristoff and Sheryl Wu Dunn, who started the Half The Sky Foundation, want to change the world by improving the education, health and safety of women. The organization Global Partners for Afghanistan wants to change the world by teaching Afghanis better agricultural and horticultural techniques so that they have sustainable incomes. We all know individuals who have started nonprofits for the purposes of helping some disadvantaged or at-risk group. Like my friend Oraia, who started Right Rides for Women’s Safety, which late at night when public transport has stopped, gives women free rides to their front doors in 35 neighborhoods of New York.

Last night, here in Warsaw, I met an entrepreneur who has turned his talent for making money toward creating a sustainable philanthropic model, a venture capital fund that reinvests a portion of its profits in a foundation that supports LGBT causes. And I talked with a corporate leader who wants to adapt a micro-credit model to support gay and lesbian entrepreneurs in South Africa. Or consider the now famous Nathalie, with whom I am working in Senegal, whose goal it is to build small and sustainable hospitals in areas where there are very limited health services.

When I was growing up, Dad often said to me: “If you don’t like it, change it.” There are many parts of my own life I haven’t liked, and I’ve worked to change them. There are many things about the world that I don’t like.

Isn’t it great that there is an army of change agents working to make it better?

Emerging

For the next week, I'll be in Warsaw, where I'm moderating the 3rd International GLBT Business Leaders Forum. I get a triple bonus out of this trip:

1. Being with friends who are flying in from all over Europe to discuss workplace diversity issues
2. Being at EuroPride in a Warsaw where gay and lesbian people are not safe and not accepted, which is why EuroPride was planned for Warsaw.
3. Being in a beautiful old city where there is less humidity than Dakar, which may seem like a really lousy bonus but it's not.

Had a great rest. Practiced my presentation. And now, I'm ready to meet the press!

Educating the media about GLBT workplace issues and marketing opportunities is critical to building support. It always has been. If the media understands that corporations value a segment market, whether women or Hispanic or GLBT, then reporting on it takes a different tone. Once the media get interested in a story, they become one means by which acceptance spreads.

The other channel is corporations: They invest in research, diversity education for their own employees, policies that protect their employees from discrimination, marketing programs to the segment consumers. And eventually, all these activities result in an increase in social acceptance. We saw it happen in the US starting in the early 90s. As corporations introduced diversity programming, tolerance spread throughout the culture reaching the point where today, nearly 90 percent of Americans believe that all people should have equal workplace protections, 75 percent believe that Don't Ask, Don't Tell should be repealed because it discriminates against GLBT servicemembers, and more than 50% of the US believes that same sex couples should have equal legal protection for their relationships whether they're called marriages or civil unions or .... fill in the blank.

The point is, diversity and inclusion in the workplace changes the way the world outside the workplace thinks and behaves. I'm glad to be here in Poland working on change.

Ba

Tonight Nathalie and I were talking about our impending move to another part of town. Of course, Ieta and Suzette, the nanny and housekeeper, are going to be working at the new house. Also going with us is Ba, who is the gardener and security guard here at La Virage.

Ba came to our collective attention because Seal discovered him…Seal just love, love, loves Ba. He just wants to hang around with him. It’s one of those unexplainable kid fascinations. Maybe it’s the way Ba smells. Maybe it’s the way he sounds. Maybe it’s his unfailing patience.. If Ba is working in the yard, Seal wants to be with him. If Ba is washing the car, Ba wants to help. When Seal hears Ba’s voice, he lets out a sequeal and heads for the terrace so that he can play with Ba.

Ba’s current compensation for working six days a week is 50,000 CFA per month, which is about $100. He sleeps in an exterior room big enough for a mattress on the ground, a small table and his prayer rug. When we learned that Ba only eats breakfast, we started sharing our evening meal. Please understand that Ba is not destitute, although by Western standards, his means seem scant. Ba has a wife and five healthy children, the eldest of whom is now 19. The kids are all getting educations. He owns a home and has a fairly good-sized herd of cattle. Clearly, Ba knows how to manage his resources.

Life is going to get better when we move to the new house. There, Ba will have his own room, a real bed and a toilet/shower. He will eat three meals a day with us, inside, family-style. His income will double.

There are some realities to life in Africa that require thought. Initially, they are hard to accept because the inequity is great, in this case, the difference between Ba’s circumstances and my own. What I need to see is being revealed to me slowly, perhaps at the speed that I can absorb them. I’m learning about the historical roots of the cultural. I’m seeing the racism. I’m beginning to understand that treating others with dignity is important in the process of change.

GSD!

This day was a 10!

Wasn’t because of the breezy, moderate, humidity-free, totally comfortable day, although those would have been wonderful reasons to call it a great day. Wasn’t because of the lovely lunch, although Ieta and Suzette fixed a pretty good one. It wasn’t because Seal said “bonjour” and “voila” and “Fany,” which is his version of Ste-fany, although that would have been good enough for me.

Today, we Got Stuff Done! GSD!!! We finished a grant proposal for our solar energy equipment and installation. We wrote a kick-ass presentation for the foundation board of directors that is meeting with us on 21 July. We completed a detailed revenue and expense project budget. And we met with a structural engineer who is providing us with independent estimates on the cost of the hospital construction. Oh yeah…and I provided the final copy rewrites and photos for the Hospital of Hope website, which should launch by the end of the month.

I like to be busy…perhaps not this busy…but I’m leaving on Monday for Poland, so what were the options? It’s comforting to know that my six months out of the formal-get-paid workforce hasn’t affected my ability to produce. That feels good. Also feels good to know that I’m leaving Nathalie with the materials she needs to move things to the next step.

It’s wonderful to work with someone who has the unfailing capacity to move projects to the next step. I know that when I return, we will have a new round of meetings and new prospects for helping us realize the dream of the Hospital of Hope.

A Hot Day for Business

What a day! We had back-to-back meetings this afternoon that made all the research, all the reaching out, all the politics, all the posturing worth the time and effort that’s been invested.

The first was with a foundation for a financial institution, i.e., a bank, that has turned the banking model upside down here in Africa. In the interest of teaching Africans to trust and use banks, this institution will open an account for no fee; take every deposit regardless of size, even as little as 200 CFA (African Francs), which is the equivalent of about 40 cents; and charge nothing for ordinary transactions like deposits and withdrawals. They are interested in the Hospital of Hope because they believe in affordability. Just as we want to make healthcare affordable, they are doing the same with banking. Just as they want to educate their customers about banking, we want to educate our patients about their own healthcare.

Add to our amazement that this financial services group has even created an innovative health insurance program, that offers coverage to anyone who can afford 250 CFAs per month. That works out to about 60 cents. It covers 70 percent of any hospitalization costs. [OK, this is making the US healthcare reform look worse and worse to me…and it also makes the financial services industry look pretty bad too…don’t ya think?]

Our second meeting was with a health economist at the World Bank, who immediately saw and understood what we want to accomplish by opening up healthcare to a population is too remote from the facilities in Dakar and could never afford the services that are available. Engaged completely from the beginning of our presentation, he immediately began to identify resources that could help us strengthen the business analysis and model of the project. As with the financial services company, the energy around the project was kindled by the alignment of our values…a belief that everyone should have high quality healthcare…that good quality can be delivered affordably...that the business model for healthcare delivery can be sustainable.

We have a lot of work to do as follow-up from both meetings. So do they. But follow-up is a good thing, an indication of seriousness and commitment to move forward.

A meeting like minds and like hearts. It was a very good day.

Using Your Head

Spain needed a boost. Making it to the finals of the World Cup is certainly that.

I don’t think Prime Minister Zapatero will take the credit for the win, but you couldn’t blame him if he tried. On his watch, the financial markets imploded, the housing and banking industries crashed and unemployment hovers around 17 percent, so when something good happens, maybe the guy should get a bump. He did, after all, predict at the G-20 Summit in Toronto that Spain would make it to the finals.

Cool Culture

I promised to report back about the Cape Verde Independence Concert at the French Institute. A few adjectives come to mind: festive, folksy, kinda funky. The house was packed. The evening was ideal for an outdoor concert. The day was remarkably not-humid. A breeze blew all day. The temperature stayed in the low 80s. It had been a beautiful day and was an even more beautiful evening. The house was packed and the crowd was in excellent spirits, assisted some by the bar that was serving bissap and booze concoctions.

I was so happy to be there because now I know Paul’s music. Now I know that he has pushed way beyond his Cape Verdean roots. He gets people out of their seats and up on the stage dancing. He’s charming. He’s friendly. He’s talented. He’s passionate. The other musicians liked playing with him as much as the audience liked listening to him and dancing to his music….especially the five women who got on stage and danced the batuko, which is a sexy ass-shaking, women’s dance that gets a lot of audience interaction. It's also known as a "forbidden dance," and when you've seen it, you understand why. [I tried to find a photo of the batuko...pages and pages and pages of images and none of them tell the story. I guess you had to be there.]

There’s a repetitive, simple, flat sound to most of the music I heard. It’s not so interesting. Don’t need to do it again.

Of the other five acts, only one created the kind of excitement that Paul elicited from the audience. It was a larger group of seven musicians with two sexy female vocalists. They were good. So were the 15 women who started the evening with a performance of tradition yela, which is a combination of vocalization with minimal harmony and drumming on calabashes.

It was a cool cultural outing, and what I liked most was Paul's music. Paul was completely there for the audience and they knew it. I also have to admit that I liked that the concert started Sat 9:05, five minutes late and it ended at 11, because everything at the French Institute ends at 11:00. In a culture where time is often unimportant, this was a real plus for me.

Another Independence Day

Yesterday was Independence Day in the US. Here in Dakar, the reaction was a little…[yawn]…oh, yeah. Today, however, is Independence day in Cape Verde, an island nation west of Senegal. It’s where Paul’s family originated. It’s the influence for most of Mami’s cooking at our traditional Sunday gatherings.

Cape Verde was discovered by the Portuguese around 1460. Until then, it was uninhabited. The Portuguese colonized the islands and used them primarily as a shipping station for their slave trade. Like the Galapagos Islands, the Cape Verde islands were isolated, which has resulted in a number o endemic species, particularly bird and reptiles, many of which are endangered by human development. The Cape Verde Giant Gecko (Tarentola gigas) is one of those on the short list for extinction.

Independence came late, in 1975, so there are a lot of people around, including Mami and Papi, Paul’s parents, who remember when Cape Verde was a colony or a protectorate or whatever island “possessions” were called in 1975. So we’re celebrating tonight at the French Cultural Institute, where there is a concert of Cape Verdean music, which is a fusion of Portuguese, Caribbean, African, and Brazilian influences. Its national music is the morna, a melancholy, lyrical song typically sung in Cape Verdean Creole. Amongst the most worldwide known Cape Verdean singers is Cesaria Evora, whose songs are a hallmark of the country and its culture. And among those she influenced are Paul Thierry Oliveira…my Paul, as in Paul and Nathalie…who will be performing tonight.

I’ve only heard Paul in his studio. This will be a treat. Stay tuned. I’ll give you a reaction tomorrow.

Flipped!

It’s never too late to learn. I sincerely believe that, even if learning is not as easy later in life as it is earlier. RAM is full. The new information gets stored in less accessible spots of the brain, so the time required for retrieval and recall is longer…even if it’s a nanosecond, it’s time I’d prefer to not be wasting. For instance, learning French…well, we’ve been through my tribulations with French…let’s put it in a category simply titled “Proof That Learning May Be a Challenge”.

But today, I not only learned something new. And I learned it quickly and had a finished product 20 minutes later. I shot my first Flip Video. I made a 2:18 movie of Nathalie talking about the importance of kidney transplantation as a treatment modality in Africa. We recorded, titled the film, added the credits and sent it to Switzerland. Twenty minutes, including the transmission time, which with a weak wireless signal was the longest part of the process.

The image is crisp. The sound is good. The content is excellent, although admittedly, I had little to do with that. And now I understand why the world is over-populated with well-meaning people who think they want to make movies. It’s so easy!!!

And when I figure out how to add a video to my blog, I’ll share my little film with you.

Africa Will

I am sad. With my neighbors, I am mourning Ghana’s loss to Uruguay. After listening to the cheers from the restaurant next door and feeling the collective energy of the regulars who have been watching the World Cup at the little market down the road, I share their disappointment.

Africa wanted to win in the World Cup because in many other ways, Africa is winning. The latest reports showed that the African economies remained productive through the fiscal meltdown of the developed countries. There is construction everywhere. Agriculture is improving. The latest annual data from the World Health Organization shows that the UN’s Millennium Development Goals are being reached: infant and child mortality has dropped; maternal mortality is similarly declining; reported cases of malaria are lower than ever. Educational levels are increasing.

Of course, there are still atrocities occurring. Female circumcision, child brides, domestic violence, sex trafficking and other long-standing problems have not been eradicated. But there is more awareness of these problems today than ever before, thanks to the great work of organizations like Tostan, CARE, and countless others including Half the Sky. This amazing organization was started by Sheryl Wu Dunn and New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof after their book by the same title hit the best-seller lists and stayed there for months on end. Read it if you want to learn what it means to grow up female in Asia, Africa and the Middle East. (If a young girl is lucky enough and smart enough to survive.)

Africa is an old continent with a very young and energetic population. Unlike the developed world, where aging is a problem because there are fewer and fewer workers available to power the economies, Africa is young. Virtually 41 percent of its population is under 15, as compared to 16% of Europe. By 2050, 28 percent of Europe will be over 65, but in Africa, only 7 percent of the population will be 65.

Youth is optimistic. Youth is confident. Youth believes it can.

That’s why I wanted Africa to win tonight. Because Africa believes it can. I believe it too.

Perfection

There is no toy in the world that can top a cardboard box. Seal got his first box today. It was just luck. When the AC installation guys left the apartment next door, they forgot to take one of the boxes. It was my big chance to introduce my little friend to “le joie de la carton.”

The whole experience was as close to instant gratification as life can possibly. I got in the box and sat down. What a great idea! He got in with me. We closed the top and got scared together. Then we opened the box and laughed. We made train noises. We jumped in and out. Then Seal took over. He put things in the box. He took them out. He turned the box over and made a house. He pulled it, pushed it, filled it up. He loves that box.

I loved boxes too when I was growing up, especially the wooden milk crates that Dad brought home from the dairy. They were our cars, our trains, the houses for our dolls, our furniture in our pretend houses, our desks for our pretend offices. We pushed them, pulled them, filled them up.

They filled us up. And they were free, just like many of the best things in life.