peacemaker gypsy

Little red engine

That whole puffing up the hill thing (I think I can; I think I can; etc.) well WHEEEEEE ... I am freewheeling down the other side.  Well not quite of course because I start in Burundi in a week but...

Back from the coast ... where I did not swim at all ... not did I see the beach more than once - tres disappointing.  They wanted to drive me up (or down) the coast for an hour or so so that I could swim at the end (on Friday afternoon) ... that would entail driving back for an hour as well ... have I mentioned that I get car sick??

All training workshops are done ... I am alternately a saint and/or bitch to the participants ... the thankyou speech referred to me "shattering" their props.  I was tempted to respond by saying that yep ... that would be part of the job ... but I refrained.

Now I have reports to write ... interviews to give (tomorrow is International Peace Day ... who knew?) and then prepare my debriefing.  I also have changes to make in materials - dunno when that will get done as I fly out on Wednesday and turn my attention to what Burundi needs.

Of course I have my favourite stress rash on my leg ... giving me agony. 

But ... the job is almost done; I can swim in Nairobi; my bags are packed (the one with rocks and stuff can actually stay here as I come back this way); my little house is spanking clean (much cleaner than when I moved in) and all excess food is packed up to give away (I am loath to part with my walnut oil).  And now it is freewheeling time.

This is why I train

I shopped on the Saturday morning of my London trip ... and then did the schlepp from the station to the hotel (about a kilometre).  Really tired so the thought of taking trains to the airport was all too much and so I thought I would get one of those shared vehicles  - wrong ... anyway the chef at the hotel is also a taxi driver (now that says something about something doesn't it??) and anyway he takes me ... not quite for free but ...

So I arrive at Heathrow really early which is lucky because they will not check me in because I have an Oz passport and my ticket is only going to Tana (Madagascar).  Where is my onward ticket?  I dunno ... it is being changed.  Who are you flying with?  I dunno ... some airline I have never heard of before.  Sorry Madam you are completely stupid and we do not take really stupid people on our flights.  Call somebody in Madagascar and get them to fax the ticket here.  ARE YOU JOKING???  Who the hell is going to Fax a ticket on a Saturday afternoon/evening. 

Of course phone numbers have changed and the one number I have is invalid.  During the course of trying to call another country for which nobody knows (or can apparently find out) the country code - my brain belatedly kicks into gear.  Wait ... is there an internet cafe somewhere?  Yes up those stairs (you will have to schlepp your suitcase) - the fact that the ticket I am about to download from my email has been changed is not an issue ... I just need a ticket.  So one pound copin in the slot ... cannot find the email ... try not to sweat blood ... oh look there it is  ... send to the "help desk" (in inverted commas because they were not very).  Give away remaining minutes (this is no time to surf the net) schlepp all belongings downstairs again over to  said help desk ... and before long it is almost all systems go.

Sorry Madam you will have to check that itty bitty suitcase in (through Jo'burg - airport notorious for losing/stealing whatever your luggage).  Okay ... do you have one of those plastic wrap thingys?  Yes go down to the next floor (mercifully there is a lift so I do not have to tackle the stairs).  Wait in line ... really really grateful that I have arrived so very early for check-in.  Pay five pounds to have miles of cling wrap wrapped around my case.  Back upstairs ... check in; make snide comment to man who called me stupid and swan off to board the plane (oh small side track to bookshop and sandwich bar).  By this time I have used up all the three hours alotted to checking in.

Take sleeping tablet and sleep on plane.  Plane is of course late taking off.  We do not make up time (because we are going north south).  Plane lands in Jo-burg ... touches down as they are calling my flight for Tana.  Plane docks at the extreme far end of terminal A ... my flight is (naturally) at the extreme other end of terminal B ... people tell me this is 3 kilometres. 

There are two checkpoints (which is where I catch my breath) ... flight has closed (according to the board ... I run anyway.  I ran the full length of both terminals (it seemd like 10 km) carrying an 8kilo shoulder bag and a bag of books.  I reached the gate ... the doors have closed and the bus (last bus) is about to leave ... I bash on the glass and scream at them (a lot).  Ground crew from the next gate check me through.  I stumble onto the bus.  I stagger up the stairs and collapse into my seat.  And spend the next four and a half hours worrying about whether my luggage would have made it onto the plane.

Lo and be old (and by this time I am ... very old) the luggage did make it ... the lack of a multiple entry visa does not faze anybody (except me who only noticed it while idly flicking through the passport as I was LEAVING Tana).  Picked up plastic covered case ... raced home - emptied out case (after sawing through multiple layers of plastic) repacked suitaces for training down the coast; jumped into and out of the shower and 20 minutes later I am on my way for my first road journey through Madagascar. 

And people wonder why I try to get to the gym 5 times a week ... would never have made the run through Jo'burg airport without it!

PS Was supposed to meet friend there ... she was held up in a queue and heard them calling for final boarding and she also ran ... missed me ... figuring I was already through those glass doors ... she should have stuck around ... I probably would have bowled her over.

Be grateful

My mother commented on an earlier post (the one about the rag curls) and said what a lot of nonsense we used to go through ... starched pillowslips (I have NEVER starched pillow slips - but I remember her starching my school tunic so stiff it stood up by itself), and damping down clothes. 

I have to damp down my clothes here ... because the iron is as close to a flat iron as it is possible to be while actually being electric: and worse there is no little spray bottle for damping down ... no I do it the truly old-fashioned way ... hole punched in the top of a water bottle.  And the other minor inconveniences of my life make me especially grateful for:

salad spinner (I have no idea how I ever lived without one)

cheese grater (without one you have to buy manky pre-grated cheese: a seeming speciality of the French ... odd really given their penchant for really great cheese ... nearly wrote grate cheese ... BAD pun)

steam and spray irons ... enough said

decent ironing boards ... mine is like a refugee from a plywood factory - on legs

decent mattresses (I am so looking forward to sleeping on an innerspring mattress - of course I have to suffer 15 hours in economy class on a plane first)

Be grateful for the things that make our lives easier ... not even the big things like clean water and good food.

Photo essay: Madagascar

They are a bit of a big deal here and the other week I wrote accompanying session notes for one that will do the rounds of the schools here.  Anyway I thought I should post one here ... my time in Madagascar.

Ring tailed lemur - symbol of Madagascar

  All natural fibres stall

All French ... but the grandeur is faded now

Eating place (but not for me)

My fruit market ... have I mentioned that I am sick of mandarines?

street stalls - complete with pale yellow renault taxi (quite a new one actually).

The butchers shop (I am a vegetarian mostly ...some canned tuna ... but )

a paddy field with the ubiquitous travellers palm (you see pictures, wrought iron representations, tapestry thingys ... all with the travellers palm).

One down and one to go

Finished the first training of Master Trainers on Friday.  Nice group working in the non-formal sector.  They ranged from grandparents to adolescents ... with an equally wide range of backgrounds and experiences.  Nevertheless they all claimed that they had learned heaps in 5 days (and it IS a very intense course) and they are all fired up to implement peace education.  Which is a good thing as that is what I am paid for.

The colleague from UNICEF said (and it has been said to me several times in this office - querying why a non-Francophone should be brought in) that I was the best in the world in this area.  Now admittedly it is not a very big area but still ... the best in the world??  I thought years ago when I worked in gifted education and somebody told me that I was in the top 10 in Australia in the field that that was pretty darn good.  (Of course then the issue was how many more than 10 people were involved in gifted education?)

So ... now off to London on Tuesday and then back here for another training of master trainers down the coast (I have been faithful;y promised - as this last one was here in Tana after all).  Then it is a wrap for here and off to Burundi to do something similar but in half the time.

 

As an aside ... a few years ago the then Minister for Education said that her schools were painted the colour of poverty (and therefore depressing to attend).  For me this house (and it is in the middle of Tana) is the colour of poverty.  And yes it is depressing.