WWS Summer 2008

Just When You Thought Things Were Winding Down

2008-08-20T07:27:00.003-04:00

Another day, another typhoon.

But, I got to go home early and buy souvenirs at the mall. At one store, I walked up to the checkout counter and waited in line. In front of me was a young Filipina carrying a Gucci handbag. She and the girl behind the counter were talking in Tagalog. The guy behind the counter stared at the floor.

The girl with the Gucci handbag stepped aside, and I put my presents on the counter. Both girls continued talking in Tagalog, giggling every time I handed the cashier a new gift. The guy behind the counter stared at the floor.

I turned to the girl with the Gucci handbag and said, "I think my family will like them." She responded in perfect English as the two employees carefully placed each gift into a gigantic bag.

The girl behind the counter handed me the bag.

"Thank you sir!"

I took it and smiled.

"Salamat po!"

Both girls turned bright red. The guy behind the counter looked up from the floor and burst out laughing.

To all my Keohane-ites!

2008-08-19T03:00:00.003-04:00

Greetings from sunny Kampala people. I hope you are having a nice time finishing up your internships and preparing for a glorious year at WWS. I also hope you are appreciating the fact that we are scattered around the world while MPA1s are doing math camp...

This post goes out to all those who took IP with Bob Keohane last year. It's an effort to ask for your guidance on a particular issue and honestly a way for me to show off. I dont get the chance often to prove wrong world renowned theorists (i tried and failed most of the time at oxenford!) so bear with me, please.

As all of you know, for our last assignment of IP we had to write a final paper on anything related to previous material. My undying respect for Keohane's work notwithstanding, I had become a little bit impatient with all the liberal institutionalism doctrine (and dont get me wrong, I am, I believe, a liberal insitutionalist, somewhat) and decided, for the fun of it, to write a straight forward, smacking of realism, almost neo con, paper! The crux of my thesis evolved around the idea that oil politics was becoming more state centred and should have been considered as foreign policy objective. I argued that China, far from being the good harmless giant, has been involved in massive state deals with African nations and that US firms were getting pushed aside, their commercial power not a match for Chinese state coercion. Since African nations are producing increased amount of oil, this is where the future of energy lies. (I also genuinely think that US involvement in the continent is not a bad thing especially if better managed that Chinese involvement. Since there are better checks and balances for US involvement I do believe that US influence is a boon)

Dont get me wrong, I am aware of many fallacies with this argument. It was hard to defend,even though indirectly, 'poor' oil giants but the paper was written with a tongue-in-cheek style and was overwhelmingly factual (another shot at the whole theory stuff!). I was proposing US military stations in the Gulf of Guinea, establishing Africom in Liberia etc! I felt I was channeling Karl Rove himself (or whoever the hawk is these days)!

Of course, I got a B! Never got an explanation for it nor I ever saw the paper. So much for coming up with a different point of view! But however, I can surmise from the grade (i think one one of the lowest in class) that Keohane disagreed entirely with it. But then, I see this article on the New York Times which makes a similar point to mine. Check it here: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/19/business/19oil.html?_r=1&hp&oref=slogin

So, my initial reaction was to send it to good ol' Bob with a cheeky comment attached. But since my inital reactions and spontaneity have gotten me in trouble in the past (need I recall the diamond incident?!) I decided to ask for your advice. I can also supply my paper if you really have nothing better to do but compare and contrast IP papers on a deserted beach somewhere...

Since I am a man of the people, if majority says I should do it, I will follow suit. Please advise! I have full confidence in your friendly suggestions which I hope will be forthcoming long after graduation. I came to this school, after all, to meet all of you good people!

I hope you wont mind me using this blog as a "pre-commitment device'!
Yours truly,
l

Bring me some Booty!

2008-08-13T10:12:00.002-04:00

Hey all, hope I got your attention. Sorry to use the blog, but I am sure you are all reading this and not your emails! Here is my pitch:

In all of your fabulous summer travels around the world, I am sure you are finding some amazing souvenirs and local goods that folks back in Princeton would love to own. I am hoping to catch some of you to ask you (if you are still out there traveling somewhere) to bring me back some exotic international goodies!

It's not for me, really, but for the upcoming Woo Service Auction that we are bringing back with style to the WWS this Fall. The Woo Service reps and I are taking on the fine tradition passed down from John Kaufman and his class to hold a silent auction to raise money for a NJ-based charity. The last one was held before we arrived at the Woo, and was apparently a lot of fun, and a big success. They raised over $5,000 and donated to a Trenton-based charity.

This year, we will be soliciting donations from everyone of whatever you can give, be it a home cooked meal, a handmade item, or free babysitting for an evening. Creativity is welcome! We plan to try to hold the auction along with skit night or another fun social event and we want to raise as much money as we can for a worthwhile charity. We have been thinking of a group in Newark that provides legal and other services for refugees, immigrants and victims of human trafficking, but will be finalizing all details in the coming weeks.

The brilliant idea (Sujata's, not mine) is that while some of you are out there in the far reaches of the world, that we should hit you up now to bring something back for the auction. It would be great to see waht everyone can bring back for us to sell at the auction - I am sure that we could get some amazingly unique items that people will love. So... come on, gimmie some booty!!

Also, please let me know if you have any qustions about the auction, want to help out at all, or are ready to donate! We will be sharing more details at the September 13th service event that I hope you all have on your calendars!

Can't wait to see you guys in the Fall!
Sue

There and Back Again - A Panda's Tale

2008-08-07T08:40:00.027-04:00

In China, there are many Chinese. Nowhere is this fact more apparent than in Shanghai and Hong Kong.

My trip to Shanghai began, and nearly ended, in the visa line at the Chinese Embassy in Manila. After two weeks of figuring out paperwork and fees, I was finally ready to apply for my visa. I arrived Friday morning, six days before my flight to Shanghai, at 8:15 AM. I stepped through security into the waiting room and took a number from the desk. I looked at the slip of paper in my hand. It read 755. I looked up at the glowing number above the visa counter. It read 632. I took a seat.

At 11:15 AM, I stood up again and walked to the counter. The visa officer looked at my paperwork and promptly denied my application. There are only two possible explanations:

1. They saw Princeton twice on my application and thought, "Man, not another Free Tibet protestor!"

2. China's one-child policy has left the country dangerously short of girls. If they let me in, all the remaining girls will fall in love with me, leaving a country of frustrated young men, which political scientists have determined to be a necessary, though not sufficient, condition for increased radicalism in other countries (see: Saudi Arabia, Egypt, etc.).

Either way, I panicked. I took one of the slowest cabs in all of Makati back to my office and promptly sent Jon (Shanghai) an email that read something like this:

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey Jon,

How's it going? Not to bother you at work this afternoon, but I GOT DENIED FOR A FRICKIN' VISA AND I ONLY HAVE SIX DAYS BEFORE MY FLIGHT LEAVES AND I NEED THREE EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PIECES OF PAPER, WHICH NO AMERICAN DIPLOMAT IN MANILA HAS EVER HEARD OF AND WERE NEVER MENTIONED ON ANY WEBSITE, FROM YOU BY MONDAY OR I CAN'T COME VISIT YOU AND SEE THE PANDAS!!!!

So yeah, if you could send me that stuff by Monday, that would be great.

Have a good one,

Tom

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Jon (Shanghai) got me the stuff, and on Monday I stepped through security into the waiting room at the Chinese Embassy in Manila, paperwork in hand, and took a number from the desk. I looked at the slip of paper in my hand. It read 48. I looked up at the glowing number above the visa counter. It read 930. I took a seat.

Then, at around 11:30 AM, something unexpected happened. All the consular officers, six in total, stood up and left their respective windows. They disappeared into a back room. No one in the waiting room moved. I waited in my seat for 20 minutes. Then, for no real reason in particular, I turned around and looked at the sign behind me. It read:

---------------------------------------------

Embassy of the People's Republic of China
Visa Office
Application Hours 9:00 AM - 11:30 AM

---------------------------------------------

I returned to the Chinese Embassy at 7:30 AM Tuesday morning. I stepped through security and blah blah blah stepped up to the window around 11:00 AM. The visa officer shuffled through my paperwork for about ten seconds and told me to come back the next morning to pick up my visa.

On Wednesday morning, I paid $160 for my four day trip to Shanghai. On Thursday morning, I flew to Shanghai.

China was much different than I expected. The weather was warmer and more humid than in Manila. The locals weren't very nice. The chopsticks were tricky. The streets were crowded. Thankfully, the pandas were cuddly.

I only talked to one Chinese girl the entire trip. She was selling milk tea at the Shanghai airport. Right after I said "hello" to her in my very best Mandarin, she giggled and a huge smile flashed across her face. There are only two possible thoughts that could've crossed her mind at that moment:

1. OMG, that cute American boy speaks perfect Chinese! I'm in love.
2. OMG, did that guy just call me a horse?

Either way, the plane landed safely in Manila.

The next weekend, the rest of the interns and I took a Hong Kong. The trip started off well, until we got to the airport in Manila. As I was checking-in with the ticket agent, she suddenly interrupted my day-dreaming about pandas:

"Excuse me sir, is that yours?" She pointed to my three foot long black golf umbrella.

Of course it was mine. Knowing it was rainy season in Manila, I bought it at the Target in Ames before leaving home. The next day, that Target was underwater. For obvious reasons (including this, this, this, and this), I've taken that umbrella everywhere this summer, China included.

"Yes."
"Sir, you cannot carry it on the plane with you."
"Why not?"
"Because sir, it could be used as a weapon." She tapped the blunt tip with her finger. Thoughts raced through my mind. I chose my next words carefully.

"Are you serious?"
"Yes sir, I am serious."

Hong Kong was much different than I expected. Our hotel was absolutely beautiful; they even gave us free cheesecake. The Super Ferry from Hong Kong Island to Kowloon Island was very cheap and a great way to see the city skyline. You can even ride the world's longest escalator through the central part of the city.

But not everything was wonderful. After a half hour, you realize that the world's longest escalator is really still an escalator. I was looking forward to climbing Victoria's Peak, only to discover that you ride up the side of the mountain on a train. There are two shopping malls at the top, and the employees inside the Burger King there look at you funny when you ask for a massage.

Massage or not, I was ready to come back to the Philippines on Monday evening when we arrived at the Hong Kong airport. We walked inside the terminal to our ticket counter, looking forward to a nice, relaxing flight back to Manila. I handed my ticket confirmation and passport to the ticket agent.

"Excuse me sir, where is your final destination?"
"Manila."
"No, sir. Your passport says you are an American. Where is your final destination in the US?"
"Des Moines."

There was a long pause.

"Yes, sir. And where is your ticket confirmation to....Des Moines?"
"Well, I don't leave for three weeks still. I didn't bring that confirmation with me because it's part of a different trip."
"Yes, sir. But I need to see your onward reservation in order to book you for your flight to Manila. Immigration will not allow you back into the Philippines without a copy of your onward reservation."
"But I have a valid visa. And I just went to Shanghai last weekend and re-entered with no problems."
"Sir, the rules say that you must have a copy of your onward reservation." I chose my next words carefully.

"Are you serious?"
"Yes sir, I am serious."

She directed me to the information booth, so I could find the Japan Airlines ticket counter and print off a copy of my flight itinerary three weeks in advance. Not surprisingly, Japan Airlines did not have any flights departing that evening, and all its staff had gone home for the day.

I ran back to the ticket counter. The agent informed me that I could go to the nearby coffee shop and use their internet to email my ticket confirmation to the desk agent. I checked my watch. My flight boarded in a half hour.

I past the coffee shop counter and sat down at the computer. It didn't have a mouse. I tried, in vain, to open my email and find the ticket confirmation using only the keyboard. I heard giggling from behind the counter. A sign above the computer read: "Computer only for customer use. Mouse available at counter." I ran to the counter and ordered a $3.50 bottle of water. After emailing the confirmation to the only email address listed on the airline website, I ran back to the ticket counter.

I stopped to catch my breath. The agent looked at me, then scribbled down a different email address. I stared at the blunt tip of my umbrella for a moment, then took the piece of paper and ran back to the coffee shop.

A few minutes later, I ran to the ticket counter for a fourth time. The old ticket agent had gone on break. The new one took my ticket confirmation and passport, and ten seconds later she wished me a happy flight. I stared at the blunt tip of my umbrella for a moment, then thanked her and ran toward my departure gate.

Tomorrow night, most of the world will watch the opening ceremonies in Beijing. I think I'll just go to bed early.

For All The Filipinas In My Life

2008-08-07T08:26:00.006-04:00

Last night, Alvin and his family had me over for supper. They fed me milkfish, squid, BBQ pork, egg rolls, salad, rice, mangos, bananas, coconut ice cream, and soup with chicken, potatoes, and little green leaves that new mothers are supposed to eat. It was delicious.

His father and mother have been to Iowa. Ames, in fact.

After supper, we drove to the University of the Philippines, which my sources tell me is the best university in the Philippines, to take pictures by its most famous statue.

Woos in Nicaragua

2008-08-04T10:15:00.003-04:00

Christina: Completed 306 (if I am not mistaken) interviews with microfinance clients all over Nicaragua and now chilling on a small island off the Caribbean coast.

Carlos: Currently attempting to put on weight by eating lots of mamón (see below).

Me: Decided that my future house MUST feature both hammocks and rocking chairs, preferably from Nicaragua.

With Carlos, mamón, hammock, and Christina in absentia.
Location: Shore of crater lake, Laguna de Apoyo

Question for those who know trade!

2008-08-03T12:37:00.002-04:00

So... while I may not have come away from Esteban's class with much knowledge... I do at least know who to ask my questions about macro policy and trade issues! So this question humbly goes out to all you econ-smarties out there...

With the recent collapse of the trade talks, countries that currently enjoy preferential access for agricultural goods into European (and a bit US, but less so) markets actually win, yes? They will likely continue to enjoy the preferential access rather than having all the trade issues addressed on a global scale (or at least slightly more comprehensively than the current hodge-podge of agreements).

The specific context I am thinking about is Mozambique (and a bit Tanzania), which gets general preferential access to the EU under Everything But Arms and some LDC deals, and has a specific arrangement around sugar (and by extension ethanol). Would the trade round have been likely to have changed much about the LDC agreements? My impression is that the relatively preferential access of LDCs would have mostly remained (not my area though, at all)...

margaret.sh@gmail.com is the best way to get hold of me
Thanks guys!

a few thoughts

2008-08-01T11:59:00.000-04:00

I have now returned to the US and am finishing up my WWF work in DC and I thought I would share a few personal reflections.

The flights around Mozambique and Tanzania offer a neat summary of the problems and opportunities in the area. They are an eclectic mix of individuals, but often the same overall mixture. There is a small sprinkling of locals and American religious missionaries. The largest group is composed of oil and gas developers, followed by groups Chinese businessmen with little to say about their intentions. The other significant group is foreign NGO and UN type organization aid workers; almost all in HIV/AIDS work… the flights are quite the window into who has wealth and interest in the region.

I must reiterate just how interesting it is to view development through the lens of agriculture- I find it enlightening. When looking at agriculture all the questions of livelihoods, gender relations, impacts and drivers of HIV/AIDS, impact of foreign assistance, politics and governance, education.. etc. Governance issues rise to prominence when confronting the bureaucratic and corruption hurtles necessary to scale before starting any size agricultural venture. Gender and health issues are quite clear with relation to whom in the family works the land, how long men stay with their families, and what the impacts are of increased wealth that follows large investments. The disaster that is most foreign assistance is striking to see as international food aid organizations purchase local corn and end up raising the price of staples locally and creating a food shortage where there was none previously- or the example of the World Bank directly causing the destruction of Mozambique’s cashew industry, which used to be the primary source of livelihoods for almost a quarter of the population…

Besides a lens into local development issues, agriculture also shows the impact of global issues – everything from the deterioration of the trade talks to the impact of rising oil prices to the U.S. election. Trade talks and oil prices both determine the trends in livelihoods for over 80 percent of the population- those involved in agriculture. As fuel prices rise, as Europe raises and lowers domestic form subsidies and changes the tariff regime – the profitability of crops grown by the majority of populations swings wildly, foreign companies that can provide desperately needed inputs and expertise will now flood into Mozambique and largely avoid Tanzania due to preferential access agreements already in place.

All in all, it has been a wonderful experience to work with WWF and to have an impact on their work, which I know will have tremendous repercussions for the way development goes forward for millions of people. I am lightly dreading returning to academia and leaving the intensity of this work. This experience has cemented my previous inclination towards working in this niche professionally after school. I enjoy it, find it fulfilling, believe in its benefit, and know I have something significant to contribute.

Fun with Woos!

2008-08-01T11:43:00.004-04:00

Fun social post- I am now back in the US finishing up, but have to say that it was marvelous to return to Maputo after traveling up Mozambique and around Tanzania and have a smiling Saskia and Georgina waiting at the airport to whisk me away to a luxury hotel and a weekend of fabulous game drives. It was like a breath of fresh air after some traumatic and very lonely travel to get to see them- Woos are awesome!

The three of us had a ton of fun in the cold sunrise and sunset drives with elephants, zebras, rhinoceroses, hippos, giraffes, dokos, impalas, warthogs, wildebeest, buffalos, lions, monkeys, birds, etc etc etc. We laughed that if only Nate H. were there he and I could go of in search of elephants, or if Asher were there he could continue to engage the driver about rhino droppings (he was getting his PhD, apparently in rhino dung...) long after our diplomatic skills were exhausted.

Those two are still in Maputo finishing up their internships before they head off to South Africa together for a couple of weeks- I can report they are still alive and doing well! I am in DC till the end of next week when my internship officially ends (at 13 wks), then off to VT to help my parents bale hay, harvest from the garden, sheer the sheep, and shingle the house- it will be refreshing to move from mental to physical labor for a while, that is for sure!

My time at the UN

2008-07-30T10:16:00.005-04:00

Hey,
Today is my last day at the UN, getting ready for Kampala, sun and chilling by the pool. One last 'pearl of wisdom': There exists a huge difference between expectations and reality here at the UN. I came in thinking I would do a lot of field related work (mainly on Burundi) and ended up mostly negotiating with member states and writing memos. Strangely enough, I have met Ban Ki Moon at least three times. (see above!)

Cannot complain however, time here has been really interesting, I would certainly encourage people to join this office.

Please let me know if you are in Kampala or Albania in the next few weeks!

Ledio

Cinema or Communal Living Room?

2008-07-25T11:37:00.004-04:00

I went to the local cinema last night (a new and pretty modern cinema, mind you). As the movie ran its course, I couldn't help but notice all the noise and movement around me. Women had brought their infants or young kids (less than 5 yrs old) with them. Of course, they couldn't help crying or talking loudly through most of it. People kept receiving (and answering) phone calls (the silent option on the cell phone does not seem to exist for most Nicas). People in front and behind me held conversations in a regular speaking voice (I am yet to hear someone here whisper). People kept coming in, going out, shuffling around. No-one apart from me seemed to find this the slight bit out of the ordinary.

All in all, I felt like I was in someone's house watching a movie on an extremely big screen.

Hobos in Manila

2008-07-23T07:42:00.003-04:00

A block from the embassy, there is an Australian hotel. The name is Swagman, an old Australian word for "hobo". I heard about Swagman from a military man with a southern accent who rode my shuttle home one evening. On that shuttle ride, my roommate and I were complaining about the fact that the embassy cafeteria had closed, leaving us one fewer option for lunch, supper, and every meal in between. Later, a reliable source informed me that there were cockroaches in the cafeteria kitchen, bringing an abrupt end to my complaining.

The military man leaned over and drawled, "Boys, there's a Australian hotel about a block from the embassy. Every Monday and Friday, they have a great buffet. You oughta check it out."

So we did. The next Friday, my roommate left the guarded walls of the US Embassy, sprinted across Roxas Boulevard, dodging cars, buses, jeepneys, and those frickin' pedicabs that drive the wrong way down the street, and walked a block to the Hotel Swagman.

On the wall facing the street, a sign read "Welcome to the Outback!" A kangaroo stood watch by the door. We walked inside to see a bar and a small seating area. A waitress quickly greeted us.

"Good morning sir!" She motioned us to a table and showed us the menu.
"No thanks," I said, putting the menu back on the table. "I'll just have the buffet."
"Oh, I'm sorry sir."
"Oh, you don't have a buffet?"
"Yes sir."

My roommate quickly explained. "Oh, umm, one of our friends just told us that you had a buffet every Monday and Friday."
"Yes sir."
"Wait..." He paused. "Isn't today Friday?"
"Yes sir."
"But there's no buffet?"
"Yes sir."

I looked up to see an 8 foot crocodile mounted on the wall above me. The food was quite good, especially the $12 steaks. We've eaten there half a dozen times since, bringing back more interns each time.

The last time we ate there, we paid our bill around 1:00 and stood up to leave. As we walked through the door and past the kangaroo, we were hit with a gust of wind and torrential rain. We stood there for a moment, watching the wind peel the aluminum off the construction site next door. The streets began to flood, and we retreated past the kangaroo.

As we stood inside the doorway, the power went out. The generators whirred to life, and we stood some more. Five minutes later, I turned around, walked through the small seating area, and stepped into the bar. I ordered a Red Horse and watched the US play the World in baseball on ESPN while the rest of the interns waited patiently by the door.

Around 1:45, the rest of the interns walked into the bar. The US was losing. A few of us agreed to pay some guy 100 pesos ($2) to drive us back through the remnant of wind and rain, through the flooded streets of Manila, at the southwestern edge of Typhoon Helen, to the guarded walls of the US Embassy.

Spirituality for Sale: Blasphemy or Worship?

2008-07-20T10:21:00.003-04:00

My first warning sign should have been the sheer number of mzungu missionaries on my flight to Uganda.

Uganda is a highly religious place: Christianity (Catholicism and Evangelism) dominates, with a minority Muslim population and an infusion of witchcraft practices and cultish symbolism in the northern regions.

Uganda has a troubled history with religious extremism however. Idi Amin's violent reign, Joseph Kony's "Lord's Resistance Army (LRA)," the "Holy Spirit Movement of Alice Auma" and the "Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God" (via mass suicide) were all spawned in the name of religion.

For this posting, however, I bring you the lighter side of religion in Uganda. The prevalence of religious business signage is as plentiful as the supply of warm Fanta and Coca-Cola products. From northern Uganda, the top ten "God-inspired" (if not divined) businesses for your dutiful observance:

10. "God's Mercy Restaurant" (the food alone begs for mercy)

9. "God Provides A. Guesthouse" (A is an initial, not a creative use of punctuation and syntax)

8. "God Blesses Us" Bus Transport (a welcome blessing on Ugandan roads)

7. "God's Oasis Accommodations"

6. "God Reads Bookshop" (naturally, it sells only office supplies and no books)

5. "God is Able Beauty Salon" (how able?)

4. "God Forgives Hotel & Bar" (so, drink up and repent afterwards?)

3. "God's Gift Pork Joint"

2. "God Loves Drugs Shop" (not making this up)

And, alas:

1. "God Delivers Hairdressers" (salon and vocational training center)

Amen.

Musc...er.. Mussels from Brussels?

2008-07-16T18:07:00.003-04:00

Potholes and cream pastries

2008-07-16T05:19:00.019-04:00

While yet another upsurge of political chaos brings my country one step closer to separation, I’m quite frankly content to find myself in the other hemisphere. It is comforting to know I have a safe place to seek asylum should things explode in

Belgium

. So let me introduce you to my potential foster home.

Maputo is a quaint little town, and strangely endearing. Not very large, not very lively, not very dangerous (though crime has picked up since the xenophobic attacks in South Africa that drove thousands of illegal Mozambican migrants back home). One descriptive adjective that is a perfect fit, though: very dilapidated.

Scattered around town, you’ll find disused tram rails that stopped leading somewhere a while ago, abandoned public mailboxes from which no letters were picked up since the country’s independence from Portugal in 1975, once-gorgeous Mediterranean-style villas in ruins and crumbling communist residential high-rises flanking Maputo’s bustling avenues, and sadly underfunded museums with rather awkward displays, as kindly demonstrated by Georgina.

But amidst these reminders of colonization and the infrastructural decay caused by the civil war that ended in 1992, Mozambicans muddle through. When the Portuguese bus company that ran public transport in the country went bankrupt a couple of years ago, a complex system of privately run mini-buses emerged in its place. At first, I was quite delighted with this smoothly running system. Until I got my foot stuck in a rust hole in the floor of the bus while it was driving, and on another occasion was charged double the government-fixed price.

‘Is it because I’m white?’ I find myself thinking angrily – and then I smile. Privilege, social handicap… things are not very clear-cut in Mozambique’s multiethnic society. There is a large presence of Indian and Arab traders, Chinese (whose presence dates back to the 1500s), South African investors, ‘white Africans’ (mostly Portuguese who stayed after 1975) and heaps of expats, so one more white girl goes largely unnoticed. Except perhaps in my traditional Mozambican dance class, where my unmistakably un-Mozambican muscles refuse to twitch in more elegant ways.

Other local delights include:

- all-you-can-eat seafood fresh from the source

- the most fabulous cream pastries

- good South African wines for really cheap

- shopping for African-print textiles (often manufactured in such un-African places as India, Pakistan, the UK and the Netherlands)

- relaxing on the beach (polluted around Maputo, gorgeous and pristine further up)

- making weekend excursions to South Africa and Swaziland.

The cute little kingdom of Swaziland is a story all by itself. HIV rates are the highest in the world (40%), courtesy of His Royal Highness, private-school educated in the UK and married to some 16 Swazi ladies, and the Queen Mother, who recently admitted to having been on antiretroviral treatment secretly for many years. From time to time, in a traditional ceremony the king picks another lucky Swazi virgin to join the royal family – though kidnapping is another, be it less ceremonial method if your next under-age bride of choice does not consent. To stop the alarming spread of HIV, the king announced a five-year ban on sex in the country, which of course only led to an increase in prostitution and abortions. Read more about how the king handled the HIV crisis here.

As to my work, I’m negotiating quotes with an express mail courier for driving and flying blood samples and HIV test results around one of the most remote provinces of the country, designing a poster to teach nurses and parents about HIV symptoms in children, and interviewing HIV+ kids on how they like using pillboxes to take their daily doses of antiretrovirals. From a certain perspective, the Clinton Foundation’s work here may seem quixotic. As I have been reminded by several locals, a life is cheap in this part of the world.

Especially a child’s.

Countryside Observations

2008-07-13T02:44:00.002-04:00

Phnom Penh has treated me well, but after experiencing the dusty, colorful, and bucolic surroundings the Cambodian countryside has to offer, I'm glad to have a respite from city-living. The Embassy here is now in full election mode as the National Assembly Election draws near (July 27). I've been tasked to observe, advise, and talk to rural election committees throughout the country--it's quite refreshing (though you must be patient) to interact with Cambodian citizens that are actively engaged in the election process. In order to avoid many of the politically motivated crimes and irregularities that surfaced in the 2003 elections, many candidates preface their messages of policy, reform, and persuasion with an emotional charge of unity for all Khmer people. Illegal immigrants are subtly excluded from this charge, but we'll leave that for another post.

As I prepare for two more provincial trips next week, I try to remind myself that apart from my official tasks and responsibilities, I should strive to delve deeper into the workings of Cambodian society and politics through casual conversations. After all, each village and commune has its own interesting story and characters. So, with that said, I try to continually keep myself from being too predictable--the local foods help, well, with the urging of my accompanying translator and driver. Simply put, country-fried spiders are pretty tasty.

Oh, on the subject of food, I must say that I hope I bring honor and pride to the WWS as I un/fortunately won the title of "Hot Dog Eating Champ" at the 4th of July Embassy party. Tom Niblock suggested we put on a similar contest in the fall-I think I'll just be a judge.

Cheers!

Hello from Tanzania and Mozambique

2008-07-10T14:30:00.004-04:00

My dearest classmates…

I hope you are all happy with your summer experiences- mine is far exceeding expectations as I end almost every day exhausted, but feeling fulfilled in ways that were seriously lacking at USAID and Princeton. I am working with WWF (wildlife, not wrestling) currently traveling around Tanzania after having spent several weeks traveling Mozambique. At every turn I meet individuals from private sector (and a few from government) who are beyond eager to find ways of engaging with WWF to change the developmental implications of their investments throughout this area. It is wonderful to engage with them and brainstorm on both a concrete and a big-picture systemic level about how we can together be instrumental in encouraging holistic development. If I hadn’t already been convinced of the importance of engaging the private sector (which I was), I would have been converted.

Traveling and staying in hotels (from 4 star to small shacks with three walls) is starting to take its toll and I miss home. It is also the first time traveling in the developing world where I am so far removed from the daily lives of people since my primary mode of engagement (with people I am not paying for services) is professional.

However, I have made a few friends with random folks that have led to – running with a friend around a small city in northern Moz and having kids point and laugh and run with us for a few feet trying to figure out what I was and what I was running from, jumping in a fishing boat with someone I met walking down a calm deserted beach at sunrise, helping a group of nuns plant manioc, helping a rural family put palms on their roof of their new home, ending up in the WRONG part of town and having fun finding my way back, and finally- being taken appallingly seriously by government ministers, the head of the Moz army, BP and Chiquita in an idea I had to change forestry practices throughout Mozambique… stay tuned…

On a more mundane note- I can’t wait to get back to Mozambique at the end of next week and see Saskia and Georgina again- we are going off to a beautiful game park to look for crazy wild animals (other than each other)!

If you are bored feel free to check out my somewhat out-of-date and less analytical personal blog at http://mshmoztanz.blogspot.com/

In case you've missed the NYT over the past few days...

2008-07-09T17:24:00.002-04:00

This made me really happy. Make sure you have sound.

Then read about it here.

Very appropriate as we spend the summer scattered around the globe.

(And in case you were wondering, I've seen Scott dance, and he looks kinda like the dude in the video.)

Have It Your Way

2008-07-05T23:31:00.009-04:00

Many friends and family have asked about the Philippines. The best illustration thus far has been my trip to Burger King.

Thursday at noon, four of us walked into a Burger King at a rest stop outside Manila. The manager, dressed in a black suit, opened the glass door and smiled. "Welcome to Burger King sir!" The newly-tiled floor was immaculate. Behind the spotless counter, nine employees stood ready to take my order. I paid about $3,50 for the biggest burger, fries, and drink on the menu.

About twenty minutes later, a woman wearing a white uniform walked up to our table and asked if we wanted a massage. Having been warned about certain sketchy variations, I quickly excused myself and walked to the comfort room. A comfort room is a like a bathroom, only with a more comforting name.

Inside the comfort room, I ran into a man wearing a spotless uniform from a different fast food joint. He was shaving.

I returned to my table to find that the woman in the white uniform was giving massages of the non-sketchy variety. We each tipped her before she left. I walked back up to the counter to order a caramel sundae. I pronounced it "carmel". The nine employees stood behind the counter with blank looks on their faces until I pointed to the picture on the menu in front of me.

I picked up my tray and began to walk toward the trash can. Halfway there, I was intercepted by one of the employees. She took the tray and smiled. "Thank you sir!"

On the way out, the manager opened the door for us again. She smiled. "Good-bye sir!" The thermometer on the side of the building said 30 degrees. I still have no idea what that means.

I looked across the highway from the rest-stop. There were flooded rice fields and broken tin foil houses. At the entrance to one of the houses, there was a worn Coca-Cola sign.

The Good News: Diane Is Alive. The Bad News: Diane Is Alive.

2008-07-05T23:21:00.002-04:00

The following is a public service announcement from Diane:

Fellow Woos,

Greetings from Bukavu, DRC!! What fun to read all of your blog updates!! Just thought I'd throw in my two cents (or 11.2 francs congolais) about life in Bukavu, DRC, and work in children's radio programming at Search for Common Ground…

Fun things that have happened thus far:

1. Trekking through the mountains of Walungu, South Kivu to interview children working in gold mines.
2. Getting a crash course in journalism…(I can now talk about spots, jingles and reporting styles like a vrai journaliste!!).
3. Teaching 5 Congolese teenagers whose radio program I supervise to swim!
4. Living in a Belgian Colonial house on the beautiful Lake Kivu.
5. Finding the Pakistani shop (labeled PX shop) inside the MONUC compound and buying turmeric, cumin and chili powder.

Not-so-fun things that have happened thus far:

1. Finding out that the beautiful Lake Kivu is full of methane and carbon dioxide gas that could eventually escape and suffocate everyone for miles around.
2. Experiencing my first ever earthquake!!
3. Living next door to a mining company that flies its helicopter right past my window at 6:00am every morning!! (The neighbor on the other side is no better—he was a central banker in Mobutu's time, and reputedly stole huge amounts of the nation's wealth.).
4. Spending a month cooking under the stars on a single burner petrol camp stove from the 1960s before we FINALLY got a real gas stove.
5. The police shoot outs, bus breakdowns and malaria that keep the kids I work with from getting to work.
6. "Flushing" the Turkish toilet with the wrong lever my first day of work, and getting soaked from head to foot as a result! (They had to call the plumber to stop the gush of water and reattach the lever that I had pulled off the wall!!).

"Simply bizarre" category:

1. When the guards asked if I or anyone I knew would be interested in buying mercury or uranium from them.
2. Canned popcorn from Saudi Arabia.
3. Finding out that the powdered milk I buy at the ex-pat grocery store was intended as WFP rations for refugees…

Well, that's most of the excitement for now…Keep your stories coming!! Diane

An uncommonly good time in Newark

2008-06-29T19:04:00.002-04:00

Howdy y’all (see I learnt something this year)

Have been having a fine time living in Brooklyn and working at a charter school network in Newark. It has been in the words of our top middle school student “fierce”.

How so I hear you cry?

Well imagine its 7-30 am on your first day of work and you are welcomed by the beat of a drum calling students to order.

As you struggle to get your bearings the headmaster leads 180 kids in the following chant as ear splitting volume.

Who are you?
A star who shines brightly for others.
Why are you here?
To get an education
What will you have to do?
Work hard,
Work, work, work, hard
And what else?
Take care of each other
What will you need?
Self-discipline
Why?
To be the master of my own destiny
What else?
Respect for myself, my peers, teachers and all people
Where are you headed?
To college!!!
What will you do when you get there?
Succeed and then give back to others.
What are we?
A community.

All very striking as a spectacle – particularly for a career office bureaucrat like me. Until that is you see later that morning the stats of the community in which this school is working: 2 in 100 on average graduate a four-year college. At which point making eleven year olds chant this takes on considerably more significance.

It’s all part of a deliberate strategy of raising aspiration both among students and faculty. Each class is named after a institution of higher learning- even in the elementary school. Kindergarteners are called scholars and gather each Monday morning around a banner declaring “class of 2020”.

Aside from that two other distinctive features mark the school: strict discipline and data driven instruction. Students wear uniform, file to class in orderly lines, and make public apologies. The school tests every 6-8 weeks and uses very nuanced analysis of the results to shape lesson planning.

Driving all this is a set of leaders as dynamic and focused as any entrepreneurs that I have encountered. They see closing the attainment gap as the civil rights cause of their generation and they have given 10 years of their lives to addressing it.

While some may find their zeal and methods a bit unsettling the results are hard to disagree with. Northstar Academy is the best performing urban public school in the state. It has 100 per cent of its graduating high school class going to a 4 year college. All from an intake selected by lottery and (joy to Treasury ears) with less per pupil funding than regular public schools in Newark.

And yet.and yet…. Five weeks in a range of questions are bugging me. How scaleable is this? Would these leaders have had more impact if they had turned their talents to an existing public school? Does it make sense from a system wide perspective?

But I’m only half way through so I’m supposed to be confused at this point. Mmm… maybe I can find some enlightenment in a pint of Brooklyn lager.

For more info on uncommon schools check out
http://www.uncommonschools.org/usi/aboutUs/USIVideo.html
(includes five year old chanting the Rutgers football song)

Don´t Be Afraid to Ask

2008-06-27T14:24:00.004-04:00

I have come to realize that Nicas are very talkative and quite curious. I don't think I have ever been asked the following things by people only two weeks after I'd first met them. Thus, I have decided to keep a list of "blunt" questions to see how many I have by the end of the summer. My favorites so far:

1. Are you agnostic?
2. Have you ever forgiven somebody cheating on you?
3. How many boyfriends have you had?
4. Are you a socialist? (this coming from someone twice my age after finding out that I´m from Bulgaria)
5. Are you a jealous person? (here, jealousy appears to be a personal trait not a temporary state)

Mind you, I got asked most of these questions when I wasn´t even directly involved in a conversation on the topic.

-denitza

the news from Belfast: cold, rain, and the gift of a Mighty Bush

2008-06-25T18:51:00.003-04:00

Greetings, friends.

I would also like to join Will's Luddite support group. This summer has introduced me to new technology-assisted activities - such as blogging, Facebook, and shaving - with which I am not entirely comfortable.

Nonetheless, it is wonderful to read your interesting posts about the Great Woo Summer and to learn many valuable lessons, most notably: 1) I'd rather work anywhere in Kansas City than at the U.N. and 2) not to travel on the policy workshop with Tom, the apparent love child of Zeus and Poseidon.

Life is good in Belfast, despite all the pasty white people, a lack of Ingrid, and my abject poverty on the pound sterling. I now weigh 113 pounds. Excuse me, 51 kilograms. When I have the energy, I work.

The daily tasks of diplomacy are presumably quite different in Northern Ireland than they are in the more exotic locales of most other State Department Woo interns. This is, after all, a wee, wet semi-autonomous land whose importance to the U.S. derives more from its tragic history, fragile peace, and ancestral ties than any strategic maneuvering that can be done within the confines of its small population or territory. Hence, the political work of the Consulate largely inheres in navigating the complicated dynamics of Stormont and trying to ensure - behind the scenes - that the antagonistic forces within and between unionism and nationalism are mollified. Encouraging foreign direct investment into Northern Ireland is also important, because prosperity and jobs are seen as the greatest bulwarks against future violence.

Until this week, however, my time in Belfast was not routine. Upon my arrival, I was informed that President Bush would be coming to Northern Ireland, ostensibly to extol a peace process that was solidified with the formation of a devolved power-sharing government just over one year ago. I was thus presented with a rare opportunity to see how a presidential visit works, from the art of avoiding protestors to the joy of interacting with White House staff - 95% of whom had endearing Southern accents.

As a taxpayer (barely), it was instructive to witness the incredible time and resources that are invested to ensure a safe and flawless trip. Weeks before the June 16th visit, dozens of advance staff from Embassy London, the White House, and the Secret Service had already arrived. Two prominent hotels provided temporary housing and an entire floor of one was altered beyond recognition to become a secure area, guarded by Marines. Countdown meetings were staged every night to scrutinize the details of arrival and departure, staging of the motorcade, and the movements of principals and press at each site visit. By last Monday, hundreds of support staff were in Belfast - all for a three hour tour that registered minimal press coverage outside of the United Kingdom and Ireland.

Of course, the meeting between the President, UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown, Irish Taoiseach (which basically means Prime Minister in the Irish language) Brian Cowen, and the new leaders of the Northern Ireland government was the most substantive component of the visit. It was also the most sensitive, because nationalists and unionists do not agree on who should have sovereignty over Northern Ireland or a voice in its affairs, and therefore who should be entitled to a seat at the table.

The President and First Lady also toured a local integrated school, an exception here as over 90% of schools are still, for all intents and purposes, divided along religious lines. There the President participated in drills for PeacePlayers International, which organizes non-sectarian basketball teams in recovering societies. Much to the delight of the local media, he missed four shots. The President also bought a plant grown by the schoolchildren, which they had dubbed "the Mighty Bush."

Bush hoops it up

I had the privilege to work at the Royal Air Force base where the President would arrive and depart. It was a surreal experience to be at Air Force One - a blery big plane, by the way - as the President left Europe for the last time in office. The best moment, however, occurred upon his arrival. Gordon Brown, an awkward politician who makes even W. seem relatively popular, greeted the President - and was instantly dismayed and confused by Bush's "hip-hop handshake."

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/2143451/Gordon-Brown-thrown-by-George-Bush

Presidential visits aside, the most rewarding aspects of being in Northern Ireland supersede work and derive from having an opportunity to uncover the troubled dynamics of a place I have always wanted to understand. Unfortunately, while the impressive political and economic achievements of the past ten years appear durable, this remains a very divided society where physical walls and mental barriers will continue to demarcate communities.

Murder Mystery - for all the deep thinkers amongst us

2008-06-25T13:42:00.002-04:00

Hey. Hope all is well. I thought you would appreciate this article on rising crime in American cities. It refers to post housing-projects programs and housing vouchers, precisely the sort of thing we did for 501. Interesting side effect: rising crime in American suburbia as a result of relocation of gang members with housing vouchers. Perhaps a small price to pay for an overall good program?

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/memphis-crime

Little pig, little pig, let me in

2008-06-23T19:09:00.006-04:00

So while building houses out of straw bales would seem a little more apropos to those Woos in far-flung parts of the world, Clare and I tried it out this past Saturday, just a stone's throw from the Capitol. The Environmental and Energy Study Institute (www.eesi.org) organized a Congressional Hearing led by leaders in the sustainable building field, followed the next day by a hands-on workshop. For those of you not familiar with the process, and concerned with how you're going to get a house without an ARM, it goes a little something like this:
1. Measure out the bale length you need and if necessary, divide the bale up into two separate bales using a large bale needles and twine, as modeled by Clare:
2. Shave down the ends of the bale to right angles using what looks like an oversized cheese grater (or powered grinder...which they wouldn't let me use...good call) so that the bales fit well together
3. Stack the bales together in a frame, and compress them together using the frame or compression strapping.
4. Cover the interior and exterior faces in slip (watered down clay) to hold straw together and allow to dry. Slip allows comes in handy as a sunscreen, as I model below.

5. Apply plaster (clay, sand, water, chopped straw) and smooth with trowel. Special instructions for those under the age of 8: a. Throw clay at wall b. Become bored with trowel and c. Throw clay at strange man with beard.
6. Allow to dry and await failed US foreign policy (concocted in 501 memo) to bring poverty and strife to your home. Rinse and repeat.

Unfortunately, since only Clare and I were the workhorses on this one (others stepped in from time to time), we didn't get as far as the folks had hoped. I'm pretty sure a Big Bad Wolf could take this one down pretty quick, regardless of the hair on my chinny chin chin:

Lessons from Nicaragua

2008-06-23T12:06:00.003-04:00

As I head towards the end of my second week in Nicaragua, I try to summarize what I have learned about the locals and their culture so far:

1. It´s OK to be a single mom with two or more kids at 23 but it´s not OK not to be (or not to have been) married at 29. People react with surprise at the latter but find the former a pretty regular thing.

2. Nicas´ favorite piece of clothing is jeans. Even in the hottest of days, you will see most people (including women) wearing jeans. And shorts are unheard of, except of course among “cheles” (the term used by Nicas to refer to whites).

3. Nicas are in love with American culture – from baseball to hip hop to English names. I never expected to meet so many Judiths, Williams, Jennys, Marjories, Leonards, and Lisettes here.

4. Unless you are craving male attention, it´s better to tell Nica men that you are married. It´s usually one of the first things they ask after inquiring about age. Boyfriends, fiances, etc. are not an adequate reason for stopping their advances. I have gotten this advice from several women already, so I think I may actually take heed.

5. People here love to dance. And, I mean, really love to dance (usually to reggaetón, salsa, merengue, bachata). Last Friday, the office was celebrating it´s second anniversary. Along with lots of food and drink (starting at 2 pm), the festivities included a talent show and lots of dancing. Nothing could stop my 49-yr old supervisor and the rest of the management from taking over the dance floor.

6. Flor de Caña (the pride of Nicaragua) is the best rum I have ever tasted.

And aside from that, I thought you might find the following article interesting. Some of you may have heard or read about the LifeStraw – a simple, easy-to-use device for purifying water. Here is the story of its inception. A very smart idea.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121372818319181665.html?mod=loomia&loomia_si=t0:a31:g2:r4:c0.192655

-denitza

Rock You Like a Hurricane

2008-06-21T23:18:00.005-04:00

Sometimes when the Pickerings get together, we play a little game called “What would you be doing if you didn't get the Pickering?” The answers vary quite a bit. I’ve answered everything from investment banking to selling jewelry, from graduate school to writing greeting cards for Hallmark.

The next time I’m asked that question, I’ll know exactly what to say: If it wasn’t for the Pickering, I’d be a weatherman. The forecast? Severe weather everywhere I go.

Yesterday, Typhoon Fengshen hit the eastern islands of the Philippines. It turned north and swept toward Taiwan this morning. My aparment lost power sometime in the night. I woke up at 7:00 AM to torrential rain, a charcoal-gray sky, and winds thrashing the huge trees outside my window.

The power and wireless internet are back, and it appears that the worst of the storm is over. I ventured out to the grocery store this morning and made it back with mangos. The roads are pretty flooded and littered with tree branches. On one major road, a fence in the median had blown into traffic. Still, Manila missed the worst of it.

All these tornados, 500 year floods, and hurricanes in the past month have made me think more about the future and the need to be prepared for it. Therefore I, Tom Niblock, in sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath, upon my expiration, the following possessions:

To Liam, one Adidas Army Sports backpack (sorry Judy).
To Asher, one plastic chicken that lays gumballs.
To Benny, one old TV that might work and one fridge that probably worked before I moved it out of Lisa and Sarah’s room.
To Jonathon Kent, all my Iowa Hawkeye t-shirts and sweatshirts.
To Clare, Darren, Ed, and Scott, my copy of China: The Fragile Superpower.
And to Jack, this music video.

It's early morning/The sun comes out/Last night was shaking/And pretty loud
My cat is purring/And scratches my skin/So what is wrong/With another sin…
-Rock You Like a Hurricane, The Scorpions, 1984

Royal Lessons

2008-06-21T05:09:00.002-04:00

Marked on a map by 4 intersecting waterways (and usually by a star symbol), Phnom Penh is unlike any other city I've ever been to--I think that's why I've done so much real-life "learning" in the course of 13 days (more on that below). As my workload increases (focusing on human rights, CT, and the justice system) and my expat social circle widens, I've become much more receptive to the impromptu eccentricities, meetings, meals, and events here. And I've already made an impression on the local Phnom Penh "movers and shakers"--one such businessman gave me a compliment (I think) this morning by saying that I really, really resemble one noteworthy American politician: Mr. John Kerry.***

On to my list of lessons learned:

Mother Nature is predictable. Yep, at least here anyway. I tell time now by the daily afternoon rains.
Used bookstores here are awesome. And are easily found. No luck on finding my policy workshop reading list though.
Commuting in SE Asia is an adrenaline-producing endeavor. Google "tuk-tuk" to get an idea. From time to time, I play real-live Frogger on the main boulevards. I haven't lost yet.
I'm not Ironman. I learned this before watching the movie here a couple days ago. In the 12 days I was relaxing back home in California, I played 4 games of basketball. I fractured a bone in my left hand while playing in a game two days before my flight to the Kingdom of Cambodia. And though it didn't hurt, I had it examined last Friday. And now I have a cast--ending my glorious streak of no fractured or broken bones. Oh well.
Bilal is now a certified cartographer. Seriously. It might have to do with the fact that most streets here are known by numbers and not by names. Or maybe Bilal just wouldn't dare to lead me astray.
I'm now a certified food "enthusiast." Surprising as it may sound, Phnom Penh dining is unreal in terms of choices and tastiness. I've already eaten good American, Chinese, Korean, Khmer, Thai, Lebanese, Indian, Belgian (well, imported chocolate), French, and Italian food. Only about 180 more ethnic foods to go.
I still don't like using maps on the street. Or rude expats. Enough said.

Hoping everyone has a safe, unpredictable, and productive summer. I'll try to do my part. -bp

***This description by a Cambodian is not as funny as Bilal's encounter. See his most recent post if you haven't already.

Contents of my Emergency backpack

2008-06-20T16:08:00.002-04:00

So the one really cool thing about working in downtown Washington DC is that on my third day, I was issued an Emergency Backpack by HR. Did anyone else get one of these and if so, what's in it? I want to compare...

Contents:
one silver emergency survival blanket
24 blocks of hardtack (which I googled and found is from the civil war!)
4 tiny bags of water

Apparently, this will last me 4 days... ah, post-9/11 life in DC!

Happy World Refugee Day, everyone!

Hup Holland Hup! (From Geneva)

2008-06-20T15:15:00.003-04:00

First off, I'm glad I got this far. Everything about setting up a google/gmail account is in german (incl. this page) and I can't find the "english" button. Also, does anyone else notice that the little ads that automatically pop up (i.e., like on facebook) are location appropriate? I.e., meet sexy swiss singles now!

Anyways, I'm in Geneva along with Catherine, Andi, Wei Yuan and Sarah. It's been a lot of fun so far. Clare would be proud of me: I organized an impromptu family dinner for participants in the Duke/HEI program who live in my building and it went well, was fun and people actually came! B/c of food restrictions (gluten, veggie...) we served stir fried veggies and rice. To be environmentally friendly (Carlos and Frank would approve) everyone brought their own plate/utensils and we served everyone up a portion of rice and veggies. It was really nice. (But in a strange way reminded me of those posters of monks feeding the poor -- hmmm...)

Now that I don't have school to stress about, I've started worrying about the Euro Championships...i.e., will Holland (my team) beat Russia on Saturday? Will I find a TV screen (I will be in the mountains)? Will my fellow hikers understand my urgency to find a TV screen...etc. etc. It's a little ridiculous, but I've just really gotten into it.

Anyways, my internship is going well. I'm quite busy, but finally feel like I'm settling in. It's a nice feeling.

Ciao, Pam.

The First Rule of Fight Club

2008-06-19T23:26:00.002-04:00

Casablanca

Rick: How can you close me up? On what grounds?
Captain Renault: I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!
[a croupier hands Renault a pile of money]
Croupier: Your winnings, sir.
Captain Renault: [softly] Oh, thank you very much.
Captain Renault: [aloud] Everybody out at once!

Had it not been for the profound, non-obvious knowledge imparted upon me during 501, I would have been shocked and chagrined by the amount of bureaucratic inefficiencies I've encountered during my first week at the Office of the Secretary of Defense (OSD). Who among us would have ever thought that the federal government would be fraught with such bureaucratic inefficiencies:

It took a month of calling and e-mailing for the gov't to let me know that my security clearance had been approved...3 weeks before I first contacted them.
There is a standardized paper clip that must accompany all multi-page submissions.
Finally, it took a week for IT to set up my computer and network access, so I thought I would blog to commemorate the fact that I finally have a computer.

Office Space

Michael Bolton: Yeah, well at least your name isn't Michael Bolton.
Samir: You know there's nothing wrong with that name.
Michael Bolton: There was nothing wrong with it... until I was about 12 years old and that no-talent ass clown became famous and started winning Grammys.
Samir: Hmm... well why don't you just go by Mike instead of Michael?
Michael Bolton: No way. Why should I change? He's the one who sucks.

The Assistant Secretary of Defense I work for is named Mr. Jim Shinn, and everybody in the office calls him Mr. Shinn. Needless to say, I get confused when I hear people scrambling around me saying they need to set up a meeting between Mr. Shinn and some high-level officials or asking when Mr. Shinn will return for Japan. The confusion is confounded by the fact that Mr. Shinn will be teaching a class at the Woo this fall. Evidently, I'm not the only that's confused b/c some of my network logins are Ed Shinn. I've been tempted to send around a short memo to the office (with Genie and Karen McGuinness CCed on it):

1 "n" = young, Asian-American intern
2 "n"s = middle-aged, white senior official

I still have yet to meet Mr. Shinn, which makes me wonder if Mr. Shinn is simply my Tyler Durden-esque identity. I'll let you all know the madness that ensues when I finally meet my doppleganger.

And please note that the Office Space quote is simply a hook to get people to read this far and is not meant to imply that anyone is an ass-clown.

...and I thought grad school was tough on my brain!

2008-06-18T11:58:00.002-04:00

Hi all out there in the world. I finally arrived to DC and began my internship 2 days ago at Brookings working on the Brookings-Bern Project on Internal Displacement. It is hard to believe that it has only been two days since they have had me jump right in and I already feel like a part of the team with deadlines looming. After presenting me with a list of about 60 ongoing initiatives, we boiled down my projects this summer to the following handful:

1/3 of my time will be devoted to Colombia. I will be helping to go over a draft report on the role of local authorities in the provision of services for the internally displaced, in preparation for an event with Colombian municipal authorities on improving their response and compliance with policies related to IDPs. I will also be helping with some of the research on a study of the role of Colombian IDPs in the peace process.

1/3 of my time will be devoted to special projects, including some research to support a guidebook for Mediators of Peace Agreements on how best to incorporate IDP needs into these formal agreements and into the process. I have already jumped right into analyzing every peace agreement since 1989 to look for references to the internally displaced and to determine which are good examples for future agreements. I will also be contributing later to an analysis of the role of local NGOs in IDP protection, the Nexus between migration and displacement, and prehaps a bit on corporate philanthropy and humanitarian response. Totally up my alley - I love this place!

1/3 whatever comes up! And this could be a million things at this point!! Next week I will be attenging a meeting with the Sudanese government and IDP groups, and another event on Afghan displacement and there are a billion other things happening since this year is the 10th anniversary of the Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement.

All I can say is that I am thrilled to be back in DC where there is so much of interest and where I am perhaps realizing that policy work can be extremely stimulating. I went to a lunch borwn bag today with the entire foreign policy staff and heard about their ongoing work on Afghanistan, Ukraine, NATO, the opening of the Arctic, Doha and other craziness.

So far what has amazed me is the amount of time I have to sit and work on one thing, to analyze one issue at length without having to constantly multi-task. Not sure which I prefer yet... seems I may have a bit of A.D.D! Gotta go focus some more - see you later!

Sue

British English?

2008-06-18T07:03:00.004-04:00

Spurred by Asher's calling me out, I submit my first (ever) blog entry (luddites: unite!)

India is amazing and overwhelming and frustrating. The size of the place, the depth of poverty, the noise, the smells – of wonderful food and jasmine flowers, of rampant pollution and urine – everything is writ large. Very few people speak English, so it's been isolating at times. It definitely makes you think about how important having a community is. Go Woos!

While there are a lot of important policy and ethical issues that my experiences in India raise, I figured I'd add some levity to this conversation for my first blog entry. In particular, I've found some funny wording.

I love Indian food, but having it at every meal can get tough on the stomach and the psyche. So this past weekend in Hyderabad, I went to a couple places that serve other types of food. The menu at one place included (I write this exactly as it was written):

Plain D'ble cheese pizza

Topped with Just more & Cheese

Chilly Chicken Pizza

Veg. Franky

Chicken 65 Pizza

Topped with...Chicken 65 and Cheese

[65 is a common food adjective: “aloo 65” “paneer 65”, etc. Rumor is there may be 65 spices or these were developed in 1965...]

Also, at the hotel I stayed at, there was a list of Rules and Regulations. The first read:

Lodgers are requested not to disturb or cause inconvenience to other inmates of the Hotel. [emphasis added]

And the last rule read:

If any lodger is found acting in contravention of the Rules and Regulations or misbehaves or is found undesirable, the Management reserves its full rights to eject such lodger from the premises at once.

I was glad they didn't get a good look at me.

peace, -Will

Kuc Mito Dyere

2008-06-18T05:29:00.002-04:00

In Luo, the local dialect of the Acholi people of northern Uganda, this phrase translates to "peace requires sacrifice" and is the mantra of my program. Yet, in the course of a brutal twenty-three year war against the Lord Resistance Army (LRA) that has killed tens of thousands and displaced hundreds of thousands more, haven't people sacrificed enough?

I'm conducting an assessment of a conflict mitigation program based out of Pader district in northern Uganda along the border with the notorious Karamoja pastoralist warriors. Pader is extremely remote with the nearest market a two-hour drive away. There's no electricity or running water, but the organization's guesthouse is solar-powered providing light in the evenings unless my colleagues get carried away watching football matches.

The program aims to prepare the internally displaced communities for the reintegration of former LRA combatants through the formation of local peace committees equipped with training on conflict resolution, transitional justice and reconciliation methods. Complementary radio broadcasts on gender-based violence, land disputes and other issues of concern identified by the communities seek to reach a broader audience.

The program, like many nongovernmental initiatives, is fraught by common problems of dependency. My supervisor, who is from Sierra Leone and was himself abducted by the rebels in his own country's devastating war, attests firsthand to enduring truth of the program's mantra. He extols the virtues of voluntarism and reminds the communities that this is ultimately their peace to forge and to keep.

At present, however, the peace that exists is tenuous at best. The LRA's elusive leader Joseph Kony has repeatedly failed to appear at the Juba talks to sign a final peace accord with the Ugandan government and there have been recent massacres along the southern Sudanese border. Rumors of child abduction and rearmament abound. The Ugandan government, in a recent joint announcement with the DRC and MONUC forces, the Central African Republic and Sudan, vowed to wage regional war to eliminate the LRA dissidents.

Last week, I interviewed a local peace trainer with our program whose husband had been killed by the LRA and who had been subsequently abducted while she was pregnant and beaten so badly that she went into early labor. Her premature infant son died several days later from severe brain damage. Nearly a decade later, she was at the local hospital to visit a relative and encountered the rebel who had beaten her so many years before. She recalled that he was alone and starving in the hospital. Without recognition of their previous connection, he implored her to help him. She visited him to bring him food and keep him company everyday for a month until he recovered. Only then did she remind him of their fateful shared history and he asked for forgiveness. They remained friends until he perished of complications from AIDS last year.

Her story reminded me that ordinary Ugandans are creating peace even in the absence of a formal peace agreement. The capacity for forgiveness is astounding. I'm not sure what a lasting peace requires, but at a minimum it does seem to require sacrifice.

My Top Seven

2008-06-17T22:54:00.012-04:00

I am in Kansas City, Missouri to intern at the Kauffman Foundation. It is in the middle of America. Need I say more?

7. BBQ ribs, BBQ chicken, BBQ burgers, BBQ ice cream...

6. Improving my sprinting skills to dodge drive-by shootings in East Side Kansas City. Its code name is "Beirut."

5. My fabulous apartment overlooking the flood-lighted parking lot of Section 8 housing.

4. Playing golf on the rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling green hills of Kansas City. It never ends.

3. Doing micro-enterprise consulting and documentary film "in the cuts" of Jackson County. Carrying a sharp object just in case.

2. Free hearty breakfasts, two-dollar meals, trips to DC and New Orleans, getting paid!

1. Learning to attach the "h" sound hwith hwords that start hwith "w" to attempt to fit in hwith locals. Trying not to feel hweird about it.

Paint pants and timberlands.

2008-06-17T17:28:00.004-04:00

I got to Boston and they sent me to Rhode Island. I got to Rhode Island and they sent me to Miami. Who knew that a policy internship would necessitate Timberland boots and paint pants? I am loving this job.

Thankfully, I’m working with superfabulous alum Rob Gordon, who understands what an MPA is (more than just MBA- light). So I get hauled into his office every couple of days for a drill about “policy implications,” “strategic partnerships,” and “deployed knowledge from 501 and other great works.”

He set me up to work with a superfabulous MPA… from Harvard. Despite my initial misgivings, turns out they learn things there, too. And, I’m not just painting murals with the kids! I’m also working with her to develop a handbook of Best Practices for New Site Development. After launching its 19th site, City Year has decided to take a moment and reflect. Good thing I took program & policy evaluation! Oh wait. I didn’t. I took 505.

Best of both worlds

2008-06-17T16:43:00.003-04:00

Conversation with a real estate agent (John) while on the back of his motorcycle:

John: Where you are from?
Bilal: Pakistan.
J: You flew in from Pakistan?
B: No, from Sri Lanka.
J: You live in Sri Lanka?
B: No, in the US.
J: Where is that?
B: America.
J: Aaaaaah, now I see.
B: See what?
J: It confuse me earlier, when I see it, I think, your face... it half east, and half west...

More than just a drinking game...

2008-06-17T07:02:00.010-04:00

On my lunch break during the QE1 (years ago, it seems), I ran into our dear classmate Marianne El-Khoury in the grad lounge. “Have you heard the news?” she asked. We had been talking frequently about my upcoming visit to her homeland of Lebanon, and I could tell from the look in her eyes that it was serious. “It's war.”

Nearly one month later to the day, I sat in a dark, air-conditioned sedan on the way from Rafiq Hariri International Airport to my flat in West Beirut, imagining what the “war” Marianne had spoken of had looked like. The highway we were driving on would have been barricaded by masked men burning tires and brandishing kalashnikovs, putting a stranglehold on Lebanon’s main artery to the outside world. My neighborhood of Hamra, which had remained an oasis of calm throughout the country’s long civil war, would have been overrun by rival militias battling in the streets, as frightened families huddled together in their back rooms. The stores and cafes would have had their shutters drawn tight, and the tent city of protesters suffocating the newly-renovated downtown would have been bustling with activity in support of one faction or another...

...The view from my balcony, facing east toward downtown and the Mt. Lebanon range beyond. The nice building in the foreground is the Hariri palace, home of the late prime minister Rafiq Hariri (whose assassination in 2005 was a watershed event in Lebanese politics) and his son Sa’ad (who serves as the current parliamentary majority leader). Secretary Rice visited the palace yesterday to "express support for Lebanese democracy," sending the neighborhood into a state of lockdown...

I write all of this not to glamorize the situation here, for in a land where the violent days have outnumbered the peaceful ones for nearly 40 years, there is nothing glamorous about their recurrence. Instead, I write it to draw a sharp contrast with the Lebanon I found when I finally arrived here last Wednesday, ten days behind schedule and three weeks after the country’s rainmakers reached an accord in Doha which brought an end to the political stalemate that had paralyzed the government for the past 18 months.

I wish I could have been here when the deal was struck. Over dinner the other night, my boss at IFES told me of how he had rushed downtown as soon as the news broke. Within minutes, the tent city had been dismantled with remarkable efficiency to make way for restaurant patrons and excited pedestrians. Stores that had been closed for over a year reopened their doors, and the streets and sidewalk cafes were filled with people again. By the time I arrived, life had returned to normal, or at least as normal as it gets these days in Beirut. It was almost as if nothing had happened...

...The view from my office. Despite the renewed calm, the LAF retain a heavy presence in West Beirut and other areas affected by the recent civil strife. Somewhat ironically, the army is the only state institution viewed as independent and objective, which explains why the new Lebanese president was drawn from its ranks...

Almost. There are constant reminders, of course. My five-minute walk to work takes me through no less than three military checkpoints and a parking lot full of armored personnel carriers. Last weekend, at the home of a young professor at AUB I have befriended, we drank Turkish coffee and smoked nargileh (hookah) beneath the fresh shrapnel holes in his living room wall. And the Doha agreement did little to resolve the fundamental political and religious rifts underlying the episodic violence that continues to consume this tiny Mediterranean nation (whether or not a reform of the country’s electoral system would accomplish this will be the subject of another entry)...

...A Greek Orthodox church in Anfeh, home of the El-Khoury family. There are 18 official religious sects in Lebanon, from the Alawites to the Evangelicals, and every Lebanese citizen must belong to one (at least on paper) so that political power can be shared proportionally. At times this complex confessional arrangement has been a remarkable story of human coexistence; at other times, a tragic example of its failure...

Such is Lebanon, from what little this humble, wide-eyed Westerner has gathered so far. There’s a certain tragic beauty to it: life is lived to its fullest, for it is all too precious to live otherwise. The swank nightclubs are packed with well-dressed partygoers of all faiths an fashions; the country is obsessed with European soccer, with each fan claiming a cousin or uncle or daughter in Germany or Turkey or Italy; food and hospitality are exalted above all else. And why not? Lebanon has its own unique history and circumstances to deal with, but if we all approached life with the same appreciation for its finer side, perhaps the world would be a better place. Or at least a whole lot more fun.

How I learned to write a "Note Verbale"

2008-06-16T13:53:00.003-04:00

Greetings people. I am posting a somewhat amusing document written by a former academic who is now a UN political officer in Khartum. The intended audience for this paper was a group of newly graduated phd students who started work at the UN. The paper contains some useful lessons on working at the UN but also explains the usefulness of the note verbale, the french equivalent of our revered memo. All you need to know about writing a memo and policy implications contained in a couple of pages. Who needs all those 501 lessons?

I am putting this up for people who might be interested in working at the UN even though some of the stuff said (ie. you will never take credit for your work!) is relevant for all major bureaucratic organizations. I also thought this might be good procrastination material. Finally, I am putting this up in order to educate people like Darren who clearly have a lot of learning and growing up to do. (You are welcome...!) Enjoy!

NB. This is copyrighted material and should be treated as such.

How I learned to Write a ”Note Verbale”

By Musifiky Mwanasali[1]
United Nations Mission in Sudan, Khartoum

My brief for this workshop is to share my views about how academics need to learn to speak to policy makers. I am here to talk about my experience about the difficulties I once faced (and still do) as a (quasi-)academic moving to the policy world, and what lessons I have learned on how to “translate” academic knowledge to policy practitioners and, since translation is a reciprocal transaction, how to respond to the exigencies of work in the policy world in a non-academic language.

Verily, verily, as a dear friend of mine who used to be in this very situation would say, I can’t pretend to give any advice or insights, let alone offer guidance or a treatise on the skills you as young academics can use in your aspiration to make a difference in the policy world. All I can do is reflect, in retrospect, on some of the lessons I learned, often the hard way, when I joined the policy world and began interacting with colleagues and supervisors who, in the academic world, could have as well been my students.

The views I will now express are personal and subjective. Look at them as anecdotes informed by my experience as a ‘practitioner’ working for the Organization of African Unity, which became the African Union in 2002, on issues in an African context. The “note verbale,” that glorious piece of diplomatic communication which I have chosen as the title for this presentation, is emblematic of the challenges I first faced when I joined the policy world. It is a very simple piece to write: no high school degree needed for it. But my new supervisors dealt so roughly with my first note verbale that I learned very quickly, and with shock, the uselessness of the Chicago Manual of Style! I must admit that I have since stopped reading it. I learned many other lessons along the way, on notes verbale and such, and I even became quite adept at drafting very good ones. But that first draft, I still remember it.

What else have I learned that I can share with you?

You shall take no credit for your work

Academia is about production, acquisition and dissemination of knowledge according to agreed protocols (methodology, verification, universal applicability, etc) in recognized or accredited settings. The policy world is about experience preferably acquired in the “real world” regardless of how it was acquired.

Academic titles are supposed to convey appreciation for the degree of intellectual maturity one has achieved. Research pieces are always full of (self-) references, and a bibliography testifies to the author’s scholarship. There is little or no equivalent in the real world. Quite the contrary, there may be a certain resistance to “intellectuals,” often accompanied by derisive comments on (in my case) “consultants”: “They hold higher degrees but have no clue of what our work is all about!”

Lesson learned: You shall not flash those little two or three words and a dot that precede or follow your names (until you are fully integrated; by this time it shall be too late to do so, anyway). Since yours will always be “drafts” that you will submit to your supervisor for approval, you should resign yourself to claiming no credit for your work.

Think outside the box, act inside it

Creativity and imagination (“innovation”) are a key to professional success and personal fame in academia. One can write about the ‘State and the Crisis in Africa’, or the ‘Crisis of the State in Africa,’ or even the ‘African State in Crisis.’ One can go a step further with a title like the ‘Vampire State in Africa.’

Some friends in the think-tank world (this is the subject for another workshop) are fond of contrasting “hegemons,” like South Africa and Nigeria, to “Lilliputian states,” like Swaziland and Lesotho. Experts have written extensively about the balance of power in international relations. Even among African governments, there is a (rather tacit) recognition that some countries are more important than others in the defense of the interests of the continent. But in the world ruled by the sacrosanct principle of sovereign equality, there are no hegemons or Lilliputians.

The fifty-three member states of the African Union do not seem to feel uncomfortable with the fact that only five of them should shoulder three-quarters of the organization’s annual budget. But these ‘free-loaders,’ as it were, have fiercely opposed any attempt by the “big five” to control a representation in the structure of the organization proportional to their assessed contribution.

During the debate on the Protocol on the Peace and Security Council of the African Union in 2001-2002, the Lilliputians of African politics soundly defeated every attempt by the hegemons to create a category of permanent (i.e. the hegemons) and non-permanent members of the fifteen-member quasi-Security Council for Africa. In the end, the organization settled for a rotating system of five members sitting for three years, and ten for two years. And in the African representation in the UN Security Council, one will easily find Lilliputians seating alongside hegemons, as is the case at the moment.

Relevance, not elegance

This is by far the major pitfall academics talking to policy makers should avoid. It is about “redacting” excellent analytical pieces but trivial or impractical policy recommendations. Academic sophistication in explaining the world is not readily digestible by a policy world hungry to transform it. Policy-makers expect ‘actionable recommendations.’ Most of what academics write about doesn’t generally meet that need.

Structural adjustment or investments in farming and agricultural production may be an elegant and “tested” framework for economic recovery in a post-conflict society. But the reality is, people who lived through a civil war are very unlikely to abandon the practices that helped them survive economically for an elegant policy framework that is unrelated to their daily struggles. The poppy seeds rural economy in Afghanistan is an example.

Some years back, a debate raged in some think-tank and academic circles about what was known as “economic agendas in civil wars.” The initiator of the project, a respected economist, academic and policy wonk, was (rightly or wrongly) accused of obsession with theoretical elegance in his effort to unveil, with econometric modeling, economic grievances at the roots of civil wars.

It’s all about member states!

Consultation is a word one often hears, and consultation is what one is expected to undertake at all times. No policy recommendation can fly if it is not acceptable to member states as a whole, the Hegemons and the Lilliputians alike.

The African Union Constitutive Act condemns unconstitutional changes of governments. The coup d’état tops the list of such acts. But member states refused to include in the same category attempts by incumbents to change the constitution in order to extend their tenure in office. Also, they fiercely resisted the inclusion of electoral fraud as usurpation of power, a form of coup d’état and therefore an unconstitutional change of government.

Government reactions to putschists are also informative. During the constitutional crisis in the Comoros, nearly the entire membership of the Organization of African Unity refused to recognize the government of Colonel Azali and pushed ahead with sanctions. But in Madagascar in 2001, when Marc Ravalomanana seized power from President Ratsiraka, whom he accused of election rigging, the OAU was split in the middle. Ironically, the same governments which strongly opposed Colonel Azali’s coup in the Comoros took sides for Marc Ravalomanana - the one who unseated an incumbent - and recognized him as duly elected head of state.

Obviously, governments have their own interests – agendas. So do bureaucrats, you might add. Yes, but who doesn’t? Who would you prefer to deal with: those whose agenda is clear and known, or the ones who claim to be objective in a policy environment where everyone knows or suspects everyone else of harboring ulterior motives?

Constructive Ambiguity

You may be asked to draft statements that intend to convey the impression that something is being done about a certain situation when it is actually the opposite. In ordinary language, “we are monitoring the situation” simply means we are doing nothing about it. “Extensive discussions” could mean that we spent more time on procedural matters than on substance. And “comprehensive solutions” may not be as they sound.

Constructive ambiguities are generally used in an attempt to accommodate competing positions. In trying to satisfy everyone, nobody truly is, and whatever decision is reached cannot be implemented.

“Protocols” are intended to be operational, but some are notorious for their absolutely confusing meaning outside the small circle of those who drafted them. Take the Protocol on Abyei, the oil rich area in Sudan. The country is now debating the delineation of the line separating the north from the south. Abyei is hotly disputed by both the north and the south. But the Protocol for Abyei cleverly considers it “a bridge between the north and the south, linking the people of Sudan.” But where is Abyei: in the north or the south?

Forget the Chicago Manual of Style…

…and the esoteric jargon of your discipline. C.Wright Mills (I believe) once wrote a damning piece on sociospeak. Do heed his counsel, and more. You decide the audience you write for and the purpose of your publication, and this decision influences the level of analysis and the terminology used. Often, this is an audience of your academic peers.

Writing for a policy audience is quite a different task. Preference should be given to short pieces, of one or one page and a quarter. Even for reports, the length is usually set in advance (“not more than 8000 words”), and the words are not always of your choosing. In the OAU, colleagues were fond of ‘deploy efforts’ or ‘it being understood.’ In the UN, there may be no paragraph (and a lengthy one) without ‘including.’

As for the style: the audience may not have the same level of conceptual sophistication. Make every effort, therefore, to shun the jargon of your discipline and write (or speak) in a language that is understandable. It will help immensely if one uses the language of the audience. Doing this would guarantee your consultancy for ever.

Pay attention to the meaning of your words. Advocating “structural conflict prevention” sounds great and trendy, but member states rarely admit to having domestic troubles and when they do, they are often allergic to “external intervention.”

By way of conclusion

Academia and the policy world serve different yet complementary purposes. Each performs useful functions in society. Each is subject to a set of rules and procedures that legitimize its purpose in society. The goal should not be to conflate them or make one subservient to the other. The ideal - and the challenge - is how to help the two worlds communicate and enrich each other. This is a challenge for both academics and policy makers.

I specifically talk about my experience in the OAU/AU. A dear friend of mine, who was once a professor before joining the OAU and the UN, and now back in academia, pointedly reminded me that as someone who has worked in both the AU and UN (as I continue to), almost everything I said on the OAU/AU applies, mutatis mutandis, to the UN as well: whether it is the anti-intellectualism, the fact that you are not supposed to claim credit for any papers that you produce, let alone put your name on it, the very suppression of the use of academic titles, the philosophy that the member States are king and queen and so the Secretariat is just that, that is, subservient to them and their agendas, the bureaucratese in which reports are to be written (forget the Chicago manual...), the fact that the majority of freeloaders are not uncomfortable with only a handful of states paying three-quarters of the budget (for the UN: US, Japan, Germany, etc.) but resist every attempt by the big contributors to influence all major decisions by the organization. All this is just as true of the AU as of the UN.

I point this out, so that I don't give the impression I am hammering away at the African Union and that your experience will be totally different in the UN. A standard education requirement for UN jobs in political affairs often reads as follows: “Advanced university degree (Master's or equivalent) in Political Science, International Relations, Social Science, International Economics, Law, Public Administration or related fields. A first level university degree with a relevant combination of academic qualifications and experience may be accepted in lieu of the advanced university degree.” In practice, this means (1) Ph.D. in Political Science is not really required, and (2) a young (or old) Ph.D. joining the organization without ‘a relevant combination of academic qualifications and experience’ could be hired as a P-2, which is the beginner’s level.
[1] The author takes sole and full responsibility for the views expressed in this piece.

Top Ten Quotes of the 2008 Iowa Floods

2008-06-16T09:00:00.002-04:00

Back home in Iowa, we love quotes. Or maybe it's just me. Regardless, I have compiled a list of the top ten quotes so far to emerge from local and national reporting on the 2008 Iowa Floods. My commentary is italicized. Enjoy.

10. Honesty is the best policy.

“We've pretty much just abandoned any effort to try and protect the Arts Campus because we are just overwhelmed by the amount of water…It's just too unsafe.” University of Iowa spokesman Steve Parrott, as quoted in the Wall Street Journal.

9. Anonymity is not.

“Let stupid people drown. How many other lives were risked saving the lives of 8 real dumb people? I sure hope they don't reproduce.” Anonymous online comment left in response to the Des Moines Register article 8 people pulled from river in Ottumwa.

8. Jesus better get busy...

“I better get to heaven soon before every church gets flooded.” Iowa City resident who has attended two churches destroyed in the floods.

7. ...but he can skip the water into wine miracle for the time being.

“Man hit with public intox after falling into creek.” Daily Iowan headline

6. Politics of Public Policy, Fall 2008, Week 1 Assignment: In 1250 words or less, analyze the economic and political impact of the following scenario:

“The American farmer, we feed the world…We’re going to be short on corn and we’re going to be short on soybeans.” Iowa farmer, as quoted in the New York Times

5. I hope he brought a saddle.

"This is my first rodeo." Iowa City resident describing the extent of the flood damage.

4. I graduated too early.

“Student workers should not report to their campus jobs next week. They will continue to receive full pay for the week.” Official University of Iowa Flood News Blog

3. June 15, 2008: The first-ever recorded hurricane in Iowa.

“This is our version of Katrina.” Johnson County Emergency Management spokesman Mike Sullivan, as quoted in the Wall Street Journal.

2. If they were about Nietzsche, they’re screwed.

“I guess I will just leave [100 philosophy books left behind after flood evacuation] to their fate.” UI graduate student, as quoted in the Daily Iowan.

1. Amen

“We're in the land of the Hawkeyes…We'll rise above the flood. We just have to deal with it as best we can.” Iowa City business owner, surveying the damage to his property.

The internship grass is not necessarily greener...

2008-06-14T18:29:00.003-04:00

When this is the other side.

From Tornados to Tropics

2008-06-13T23:58:00.012-04:00

More storms hit my beloved Iowa this week. In Des Moines, high floodwaters closed bridges downtown and many highways around the city, making my trip to the airport much more aquatic than usual.

In Iowa City, water spilled over the dam five miles north of town on Wednesday and will rise to 11 feet over flood stage by next week. As of yesterday, 19 buildings on campus, which stretches across both banks of the mighty Iowa River, were in "imminent threat of flooding".

I was in Iowa City on Tuesday to finish a few errands. Volunteers have built an eight foot high wall of sandbags and concrete barriers on both sides of the river to protect low-lying campus buildings. As far as the I know, floodwaters have not yet breached the wall, but the river is not expected to crest until June 20th, assuming no more rain.

They're calling this a "500 year flood", as they did the 1993 floods that contaminated Des Moines water facilities and ruined my Little League season. After living through two "500 year floods", I feel old.

Near the small town of Blencoe, a tornado hit Little Sioux Scout Ranch, where over 100 Boy Scouts from western Iowa and eastern Nebraska were gathered for a week of outdoor leadership training. Falling trees and a collapsed shelter killed four and injured forty eight. Early this morning, my dad emailed me a picture with the caption "Little Sioux Tornado":

My last trip to Little Sioux was in high school, in the spring. I was there for a weekend of service projects and wilderness camping for my induction into Order of the Arrow, Scouting's honor society. The camp is 1800 acres of trees and hills and valleys. There are few paved roads or buildings with electricity. Our last night there, a terrible thunderstorm hit. We took shelter as best we could, in a building that probably no longer exists.

And here I sit in Manila, at the guarded housing compound, surrounded by palm trees and small birds sitting dangerous close to my can of Coke. There is sun and a slight breeze. A swimming pool with clear water sits in front of me, my furnished apartment in the building next door.

From Stara Tura (Slovakia) to Leon (Nicaragua) in 5 days

2008-06-13T10:45:00.006-04:00

Hola! Signing in from Leon, Nicaragua here. Well, unlike Scott and Darren, I haven't really had much beer but I did attend a Slovak wedding last Saturday, at which the beverage of choice was slivovitza (a 60-proof plum brandy). Thank god that my experience with our Bulgarian rakia had prepared me very well for this challenge (which included my friend's dad serving us a shot each the morning after the wedding - that is, on an empty stomach and while we were still hung-over). My travels from the day after the wedding have taken me from Stara Tura (where my friend lives) to Bratislava to Vienna to Brussels (on Sunday), to NYC (on Monday), to DC (on Tue morning), to Managua (on Wednesday) and to Leon (on Thursday morning). I finally caught up on sleep last night - 11 hours straight!

This is my second glimpse into Central America (the first being a 10-day trip to Costa Rica) and there are a few things that have caught my attention in Nicaragua so far. The lush vegetation and incredible landscape (lakes, volcanoes in the distance). The level of poverty - run-down buildings, old cars (including some Soviet Ladas), U.S. inherited school buses serving as public transportation and crammed to the brim, cows, goats, and horses roaming freely by the road, people on bicycles and on foot everywhere, and I haven't really been in the rural areas yet where I am sure the poverty is even more striking. But, most of you have seen all of this in other developing countries, so I won't go into too much detail.

Leon is a striking small town with colonial architecture. The house where I'll be staying (renting a room from an old lady who spent 24 years in the US) seems quite ordinary from the outside judging by it's small entrance door. But step inside and you are transported to something from a movie set - a long, spacious, tall-ceilinged and immaculately furnished house with all common areas facing towards an inner courtyard/garden. This open space makes for a cool breeze, which is very much appreciated given the heat.

As far as the work goes. I am doing my internship with the MCC in Nicaragua, helping their Monitoring & Evaluation team. That will mostly include trying to make sense of lots of data, visiting agricultural producers in the field, and doing some data analysis - hopefully all to prove that MCC's projects in Nicaragua (which are focused in the areas of agriculture, infrastructure and property rights) have made a positive economic impact in the two regions in which they are implemented (Leon and Chinandega) in the north-western part of the country.

Hope everyone is doing well. And, as someone addicted to blogging, I encourage you all to write! :) More impressions/stories coming soon as I explore Leon this weekend.

Besos,
Denitza

Two sinks are better than one...

2008-06-12T16:39:00.002-04:00

Darren: Hey everyone, it’s Darren and Scott here. Greetings from rainy, dreary Brussels. Excuse me while I take sip of beer...

Scott: Ok well I’ll take over. Hi everyone. Pleasure to be here. I just finished some push-ups in our living room. Darren has been complaining since we arrived that his guns miss the Stephens Fitness Center - I thought I’d set a good example by doing a little exercise because, let’s face it, Darren’s gained about 15 pounds since spring began and his girlish figure is beginning to suffer.

DL: *Burp* yeah, I’m drinking Mardesous Brown right now, a delightful Abbey brown of a mild 8% alcohol – slightly acidic yet with a smooth finish. Great mouthfeel. Not good for the gut though – going to need some personal training from Carlos or Keiko when I get back. Dunks and I have been drinking a different Belgian drop literally every night we’ve been here. My favourite is Kasteel Brown which weighs in at a hefty 11% alcohol - and it’s like drinking candy – you know, party in your mouth and everyone’s invited type thing.

SD: So, uh, should we talk about our “policy” experiences? For instance, I’m doing this really interesting work at NATO, you know, world leaders...

DL: Bugger that, these guys don’t want to hear about force generation or interoperability, nor do they want to know that I’ve been looking at the wall that’s been built in Western Sahara – did you guys know that there is a wall the stretches across Western Sahara?

SD: Hmmm, and here I thought the wall was in Eastern Sahara. So what else should we talk about? Models?

DL: Why would we talk about models, Scott. We. Are. Good. Policy. Students. We’re here to learn. I mean jeez, even Ledio sounds like he learned something.

SD: That’s true. Well, we can say that we had dinner with Saskia’s sister and brother-in-law.

DL: Which was lovely.

SD: Indeed. And we went to Bruges for a day.

DL: Which was lovely.

SD: Indeed. And we have two bathroom sinks.

DL: Which is lovely.

SD: Indeed.

Microfinance: More than just a 502 memo

2008-06-11T19:24:00.002-04:00

I´ve just returned from my second day in the field, and I realize that I take for granted how easy everything comes in the United States. Cars and reliable public transportation to bring you anywhere you need to go, set meeting times, punctuality, and reliable hours of business. Being in Nicaragua has brought me right back to my days in the Peace Corps, where a day that supposedly starts at 8:00 AM doesn´t really start until 10:00 AM; goals are a nice concept but reality never quite allows you to reach them; and the eight to ten interviews a day that you´re supposed to complete fall by the wayside as you listen to story after story of the challenges that poverty presents on a daily basis.

Consider Doña Juana, a microfinance client who fell behind on her payments with a previous institution and lost her house a result. Now she shops around from the 15 microcredit institutions available in the nearest city to find the best interest rates while she rents a wooden house with dirt floors and struggles to get her business up and running again. Or Doña Alma, who is crippled with migraines and had to abandon her business. She´s two payments behind and on the verge of losing her television, the only object that she could offer as a guarantee to her loan. Meanwhile, the interest continues to accumulate on her late payments, and when they send the lawyers after her to collect whatever they can, she´ll have to pay those costs on top of the interest, on top of the principal that she owes.

I find myself caught in the midst of the hot microfinance debate and the concept of the double bottom line: should a microfinance institution do whatever it has to do to maintain its profit margin, thus enabling it to reach a broader spectrum of clients, or should it take cuts in profits in order to accomodate the social goals that it supposedly espouses? Should microcredit be synonomous with some model of semi-compassionate capitalism? Does semi-compassionate capitalism even exist?

Meanwhile, we work 10-12 hour days to continue towards the elusive goal of reaching as many people as we can. Because the truth is, the only thing that I can actively do is listen. Ask questions. Record their responses. And present their feedback in a way that will hopefully influence FINCA International´s policies and will allow them to offer better products and services.

The idealist in me still lives. Let´s hope reality doesn´t let me down!

What is peacebuilding?

2008-06-02T16:09:00.003-04:00

So instead of working for UNHCR in Geneva, I chose the office of Peacebuilding Support at UN headquarters in NYC. I am, of course, working in the Policy Analysis Section.

And who would have thought that 501 concepts could actually be useful?! In every single thing I do I am reminded of the importance of politics especially here at the UN. Or rather the futility of politics. We have to negotiate every single word of our reports (should it be state or declare, a political factor or an actor...) At least I dont have to use stata, I am happy to say.

Finally, I grudgingly have to accept that Bob Keohane's class with its overemphasis on theory has been freakishly pertinent to this job. Most of the colleagues I work with, for instance, seem to mull over the question of what peacebuilding means. Conventionally, building peace can mean anything really, from handing out food to security sector reform. But since we need to specify our field of action, we need to define peacebuilding as narrowly as our funding and jurisdiction will allow! Once again, politics come into play. The ambassador of XXX feels that gender work might not be peacebuilding (cue a lot of anger from female colleagues) and so on. Life at the UN in other words is very much like an international theory class, a lot of debate on semantics with little concrete results.

Next, what is truth?!

Back in the world of real work...

2008-06-02T15:53:00.003-04:00

Today starts week three of my internship and it has been tremendous fun so far. I have realized anew just how much I enjoy working on interesting problems and being able to conceptualize them systemically. To know that my work goes further than a professor's desk is invigorating.

I am in DC for another two weeks before taking off for Mozambique and Tanzania. So far it has been a roller coaster. My project is daunting to say the least, but the people I am working with and the atmosphere is fabulous. World Wildlife Fund is at a very interesting crossroads as they try to integrate the traditional conservation focus with the realization that large-scale impact must involve the private sector (agriculture). It means we have meetings where we get together and think up every possibility we can think of for putting together complex problems like rising input costs, rising food prices, climate change variability, development pressures and opportunities etc- and coming up with creative solutions involving all the stakeholders. I am having a wonderful time and can't wait to go to the field to test some of my ideas.

It is also a fun workplace. The kindergarten in the basement regularly has "biodiversity day" where they bring in various animals (tigers, bald eagle, lemur, python, sloth, etc) that the kids and adults get to hang out with and learn about. Below are two of my workmates with a sloth.

Praying for Parkersburg

2008-05-30T16:16:00.024-04:00

18 days before my departure to Manila, disaster struck. A tornado spanning 3/4 of a mile hit Parkersburg, IA, a small town 90 miles northeast of my hometown of Nevada, on Sunday, May 25th.

The National Weather Service ranked the storm "F5", the highest designation given. Over 350 homes were destroyed. The town's high school will never be used again; all city records have vanished. Winds reached 205 miles per hour. At least 50 people were injured; 7 have died. The town's football players were put to work digging graves.

I was at a wedding reception at a country club in Dubuque, IA, 120 miles from Parkersburg, 6 miles closer than the furthest flung debris, when the storm struck. The DJ interrupted the bride and groom's first dance to tell us that a tornado was approaching. We spent the next hour in the country club's basement. I passed the time learning how to juggle golf balls. Like the rest of the night, that too was a disaster.

The local response has been incredible. The town’s makeshift emergency shelter went unused; every Parkersburg resident was taken in by others from nearby towns. Local businesses and churches, the Red Cross, and the Salvation Army have mobilized relief efforts.

The disaster spawned not one, not two, but five facebook groups, with almost 10,000 members among them. The pictures they've posted are amazing (weather image photo credit: S. Lincoln).