Parkbench Perspectives – V

This series of prose imagines the world as seen through different people’s eyes – each sitting on the same park bench at different times and with different life stories.

Park Bench Perspective #5

I always imagined that this would be the bench where we would sit and contemplate the world when we were old and grey. There would be no need to say anything. It would be enough that we were together, relaxed in each other’s presence, basking in the sun of happy memories, still in love after so many years. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I am such a fool. My naïve belief in fairytale endings blinded me. There is no “happily ever after”. In real life, this is how it ends: one person is always left alone on the bench, their heart ripped out, their life in shreds.

I wish the initial numbness had lasted. Now all I feel this seething, writhing, bubbling anger. I want to scream, to smash this bench, to set fire to our bed, to hunt him down, to make her sorry for what she did. How could she!? How could sixteen years together mean so little? How could she do it, knowing how much it would hurt me? I wouldn’t wish this pain on my worst enemy. So what does that make me? I thought I knew her. I thought we were in love. I thought we would always be together. What planet of self-delusion have I been living on?

I have always said that people fall in love, and they can just as easily fall out of love. And I still believe that. But I never believed it would happen to me, to us. How could I not have seen it coming? How could I have felt that our love was growing deeper, when she was really drifting further and further away? What about my poems? What about all my declarations of love? Did they mean nothing to her? What about the “love forever” that she wrote in all the cards?

I should have listened to my instincts – all those times I felt jealous. It’s my own fault, for trusting her. And yet what is a marriage without trust? Ever since she cheated the first time, I have never felt secure. My biggest fear has always been that I would lose her. But I convinced myself that I was just being paranoid. I allowed her reassurances – her lies – to placate me. So many lies! How could she deceive me? Repeatedly! She was living a lie, with me right there. Did I deserve that? It can only mean that she had no respect for me whatsoever. And yet, how is that possible?

And how can I respect her now? She will always be tainted in my eyes. Not only was she prepared to deceive me, to inflict pain knowingly, to plan our demise consciously, but she shows no remorse, no inclination to stop. I feel so sorry for his wife, for his kids, living under the shadow of a lie. When they find out – when, not if, because they will find out, sooner or later – the pain will be so much greater. How can she continue this affair? I just don’t understand it. How does she sleep at night? Has she no shred of moral fibre in her body? Is this the same person I married?

I know I must let go and move on. But it has all happened so quickly. Two weeks is all it’s taken to go from blissfully in love to painfully estranged, from together to apart, from married to separated. How could she throw it all away so easily? What about everything we’ve shared? Everything we’ve gone through? Both the good times and the bad. Do those memories mean nothing to her? She has degraded our past by what she’s done, and it sickens me. She’s made us less. How am I ever going to be able to forgive her?

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Parkbench Perspectives – IV

This series of prose imagines the world as seen through different people’s eyes – each sitting on the same park bench at different times and with different life stories.

Park Bench Perspective #4

Why is it, when I sit on this bench, that I feel free? It makes no sense. So much of my life is a cage. So what is it about this bench, this place? Is it the open space, uncluttered by the props of my life’s drama? Or the early morning sun and the sparkling dew on the grass, whispering that even the longest nights end and the coldest freeze thaws? Maybe it is just that everything I care most about is right here where I see it clearly, from this bench.

The twins are happily preoccupied on the blanket with their toys, and the boys are close by in the playground area. They epitomise what it means to be carefree. They still know the joy of simple pleasures. When last was my life simple? It’s hard to believe it ever was. How much time do they have left, before their innocence evaporates? Before their world gets complicated? Before they realise the harsh pain of reality?

It won’t be long now and I can’t bear it. To know that I can’t protect them from being hurt. To know that I can’t shield them from being caught in the crossfire. It’s not their fault! Why should they suffer because their parents don’t love one another; because power and politics twist relationships; because they are part of a deal to avoid public embarrassment? Will my love be enough? Or will they resent me, for making them complicit in the lie I’ve been living?

Just look at Adrian, in his superman t-shirt, waving at me from the top of the slide, looking for all the world like the superhero he is. God. I remember that feeling! I even had the t-shirt: Wonder Woman of course. What happened to her? Did she die in one too many battles with cynicism? Was she educated to death? Or did the church crucify her? And who is going to tell Alex that he’s not invincible? I don’t have the heart to tell him that saving the universe is a little ambitious when people can’t even save a marriage.

And what about Brian? He has none of Adrain’s confidence. He is such a sensitive soul. Cries for almost no reason. How is he going to cope in a world that rewards bullies and scorns softness? At least I had the confidence. At least I was with the “in” crowd. I know now that that was a mixed blessing. Some people still me as little more than a cheerleader at the ballgame which is my husband’s career. But at least I was a bit older before I learned about rejection.

And who knows with the twins. They are still so young. If things go wrong, if things get messy, how will they be affected? Will they be strong for each other? Later, when they find out the truth, will the join together against me? Or will they forgive me? Will they believe me when I tell them that everything I did was because I thought it was the best for them? Or will they just see a coward who lived her life to please everyone except herself?

If I had one wish, it would be that these beautiful children of mine grow up to be free. Is that possible? Can I live in a cage without placing bars around them also? Will I teach them to expect limitations and to accept compromises? Will my bitter experience of love convince them that love is never sweet? Will they renounce their faith in dreams, because my nightmares have haunted their lives? So many impossible questions, it drives me crazy.

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Parkbench Perspectives – III

This series of prose imagines the world as seen through different people’s eyes – each sitting on the same park bench at different times and with different life stories.

Park Bench Perspective #3

It’s so unfair! Why do I have sit here on this stupid bench, watching while all the other children get to have fun in the park. It’s all Billy’s fault! He pushed me. That’s why I fell and broke my arm and cried and had to go to hospital and have this ugly plaster cast put on. It’s because of him that I can’t bath properly and it hurts when I go to bed and I have to sit out when everyone in my class gets to play games.

Mommy says I must be grateful, because there are other children, like in Africa, who don’t have arms because they got blown up and don’t even have food or anything. I suppose she is right, although it seems a bit dumb to be grateful for a broken arm. Anyway, at least mommy’s given me lots of cuddles and kisses, that’s something good for sure. And everyone at school feels sorry for me and the teacher gives me less homework.

The boys are nasty though. They call me cry-baby and say silly things like, “did you fall down the toilet.” It makes me so mad, I just want to hit them, or tell daddy how horrible they are being, so that he can give them a good sorting out. But I don’t, ‘cos then I would be a tell-tale, and I’m not a tell-tale. I did tell that once, when I saw Jackie with cigarettes in the girls change room, cos mommy says smoking can kill you and I don’t to die. I thought I was going to die when I fell and hurt my arm, it was so sore …

Look at Jane, sitting at the top of the slide. I bet she’s scared to go down. I’m an expert on the slide. I can go down forwards and backward and upside-down and the right way up and with my eyes closed and with my eyes closed and anyway you like. Mommy says I should join the circus, but I want to be a dancer. I dance every week when my arm’s not broken. And my teacher says if I practice and practice and practice and practice and practice, I might be on TV one day, like famous people. Then I could buy lots of dolls and dresses and have a mobile phone and a car and everything.

Maybe I will get my favourite doll for my birthday. I told mommy when I saw it in the shop. And my birthday is coming up soon. Mommy says I only have to watch the Munchkins on TV another twelve times and then it will be my birthday and will be seven. I love it when the Miss Chiff (that’s the naughty girl Munchkin), hides her brother’s shoes in dog kennel. That’s so funny! And he looks everywhere but he cannot find them. And he sees Rugsy, the Munchkin dog, having his shoes for breakfast…

Hey, look, there’s a dog like Rugsy chasing a ball in the park. I wonder if he had shoes for breakfast. Hee hee. There’s a dog in my picture book that daddy’s reading to me before I go to bed at night. But he’s not like Rugsy. He’s a human dog, not a Munchkin dog, and he eats dog food, not shoes. But he also has spots. Daddy says reading will help to make my arm get better sooner. And while the other children are playing outside, I will be getting cleverer. I hope so, because I think you have to be clever to get on TV.

My friend, Jane, also wants to be on TV, but she wants to be a singer. She also has to practice and practice. Sometimes, we practice together. She sings a song and I dance. We even do a concert for Jane’s granny and grandpa sometimes. And they clap when we are finished. They say we are stars.

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Parkbench Perspectives – II

This series of prose imagines the world as seen through different people’s eyes – each sitting on the same park bench at different times and with different life stories.

Park Bench Perspective #2

Relief, at last. Thank god for this old bench – my nightly refuge, this bed of weather-bleached, splintering wooden slats, decorated with graffiti, both obscene and obscure; the one broken beam exposing its jagged edge, like a wounded limb; its upright arms enfolding in a cold, concrete embrace; partly sheltered from the wind by the school behind the park; partly protected from the rain by the creaky ol tree. Not much, but at least it’s a place I can call mine, in a world that seems to have so little space for people like me.

Here, at least for the night, I can rest in peace. No insults. No harassment. No self-righteous advice. Just R.I.P., like a dead person. Here, on this bench I like to call my own, I am not disturbing anyone. No one can accuse me of being a nuisance. I am temporarily obliterated from the face of the earth, hidden in this suburban park. Safely tucked out of harm’s way.

It’s not much of a home, I’ll be the first to admit. Nothing like the warm, cozy house I remember from when I was still a child. I guess that was part of deal though: I kept quiet about those things daddy used to do to me, and in return I got a roof over my head. Well, that was part of growing up for me, wasn’t it – realising that having a roof over your head isn’t everything in life. And also that you don’t have to just sit back and take it. You can fight back. Today, I may not be a pretty sight, but at least I’m free.

I smile when I think of it, what a feisty bitch I grew up to become. Angry at the world for the raw deal I’d been dealt. Rebelling against everything and giving the finger to everyone. I used to think of it rather melodramatically as cursing the gods and courting the demons. Some would say I’ve got what I deserve, but I don’t buy that guilt-trip crap. Shit happens, and it’s happened to me in truck-loads. But I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m just getting on with trying to survive. Like everyone else, I’m doing the best I can. And anyone who’s got something to say about it can just piss off and tell some one who cares!

That’s my attitude, anyway. It’s not like I asked to end up on the street. And it’s not like I haven’t tried, over and over again, to get a job. I’m not afraid of working hard. Try staying alive without two cents to rub together, and tell me that’s not hard work! But you know, a person can only hear ‘no’ so many times before you start to crack. When rejection becomes a way of life, there’s not much self-esteem left to go around.

I remember the first time I got desperate enough to beg. I felt totally humiliated, ashamed that I’d sunk so low; embarrassed that I had to rely on other people’s generosity to survive. God forbid that I’d see anyone I knew! But hunger drives you to do crazy things, as I have found out more than once since then. Swallowing my pride was just another step towards my next meal.

But after a while I learned to look at it just like any other job. And to figure out what works and what doesn’t. The tricks of the trade, so to speak. Not too clean and cheerful, or else no one feels sorry enough to give you anything. But also not too dirty and desperate, or people are too disgusted to come anywhere near you. I soon got used to feeling like a ghost – people looking straight past me, or through me, in an attempt to hide their own discomfort.

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Parkbench Perspectives – I

This series of prose imagines the world as seen through different people’s eyes – each sitting on the same park bench at different times and with different life stories.

Park Bench Perspective #1

It’s only when I actually stop – like now, taking time out, sitting on this bench – that I notice how fast the world is spinning. Or have I got it the wrong way round? Is it me spinning and the world standing still? More likely. Like a hamster running on its wheel – no wonder everything’s a blur. I suppose it’s not called the rat race for nothing. But you have to wonder, are things really speeding up, or does it just feel that way? And even if the pace is quickening, does that just mean we’re getting nowhere faster?

Well, not today, or at least not for these five minutes. There’s no pressure to be somewhere else. No deadlines to chase, or things to follow up. Not even a guilty conscience about being away from Lynda, spending quality time. She’s happily dug in on the couch, watching that cooking program that, for reasons beyond me, she seems never to grow tired of.

And I’m off doing my husbandly duty, taking the dogs for a walk. So, for this unique wormhole in time, everything seems to be in balance, like the planets perfectly aligned. Even the dogs fit the picture of idyllic harmony, happily in their element, charging from one invisibly scented hotspot to the next, excitedly catching up with the latest doggie gossip from around the neighbourhood, and, of course, squeezing out their drop’s worth of news to add to the mix.

Something about their carefree spirit echoes the joy of this moment for me, with the morning sun, warm against my upturned face, a gentle breeze rustling through the branches of the red-gum tree. It’s about being in the moment, isn’t it? They say that about animals – that they live totally in the present. Which is why they apparently don’t worry, or fear death, the way we humans do. They have no sense of the future, no imagination to conjure up disaster scenarios or start stressing about how things may or may not work out. There’s something to be said for that.

Although, I suppose it’s no great epiphany. That’s what Buddhism has been teaching for thousands of years. Meditation, yoga, what are they about if not taming our monkey minds to focus on the here and now, the ever elusive eternal present. All very well in theory, but quite another thing to put into practice. I should know. There was a time when the so-called path to enlightenment was almost an obsession for me. Thinking back, it almost seems surreal, those young days of my all-consuming quest to find a spiritual master, to search for answers to all the big questions.

I remember promising myself that I’d never lose that sense of clarity about what is really important in life. Now look at me! What happened? It was only, what, less than fifteen years ago? I guess that’s life. Or, at least, that’s what happens when “the default option” takes over – the default being the course society expects us to take: get through school, go to university, then get serious, start your career, after which, the treadmill of earning to pay bills pretty much takes over, with a bit of pressure thrown in, the imperative to achieve something (results, promotion, whatever).

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Madagascar Notes 2014

2 April 2014

Today, we leave the grey skies of London for our honeymoon in Madagascar. What can I say, other than: “I like to to move it move it!”

3 April 2014

Nairobi, en route from London to Antananarivo. Now we are looking forward to a relaxing and adventurous two weeks in Madagascar.

4 April 2014

After watching swallows swooping and diving at Nairobi airport, we flew to Antananarivo, where we were met by our driver for the week, Harrison. The drive through Tana and on to Andasibe took 4-5 hours, with generally good roads and beautiful rural scenes of rice paddies, mud and stick houses and occasional granite outcrops. We were both exhausted and went to sleep early after a simple dinner of soup.

This morning we woke late (9 am) and went to meet our guide at the National Park. He took us to one of the smaller, community-run national forests, where we opted for a three hour walk. We were incredibly lucky to see first the largest species of chameleon (2 ft in length) and then a family of Indri lemurs, and later common brown lemurs. It is such a delight to see these exquisite creatures in their natural habitat, leaping from tree to tree, stretching between the branches to forage and sitting tree forks to rest. They are naturally curious and some were definitely checking us out. We also visited a sacred tree along the river, where local Malagasy and foreigners (mainly Chinese) come to pray, make small offerings (money and sweets) and light candles. Indira asked a Malagasy man, who had come to pray, to ask for a blessing on our marriage.

After the forest walk, we went to the local village and walked down the main street. The people are poor, living in simple wooden houses and shacks, most without electricity and sanitation. Nevertheless, the streets are vibrant with markets, traders, shops and children returning from school. Some of the Malagasy, especially the rural forest children, are still afraid of white people, as a result of stories told since colonial times of Europeans stealing their blood, heart and sex. Even so, most people have been friendly and not too averse to our photo taking. Now, as I sit in the restaurant, with music playing and cicadas chirruping, I am totally content. The forests are definitely my place of rejuvenation and relaxation.

5 April 2014

Today, we made a 7.30 am start at the Analamazoatra Nature Reserve. We were once again very fortunate. First, we found a family of Indri lemurs that were singing. This strange, plaintive sound is extremely loud, and echoed in reply by other families in the forest. Different family members do appear to harmonise, and though it is more of a howl than a melody, it is exquisitely beautiful and moving. Next, we spotted the small, brown and incredibly cute bamboo lemur, living up to its name by chewing on a stick of bamboo. Finally, we found a family of five sifakas lemurs with their radiant redish-brown fur and white, tufted faces, which literally appear to fly through the forest from tree to tree. Watching them move is one of the miraculous sights that I will treasure forever.

Other highlights of the day included finding two night jars at the base of a tree, completely camouflaged, two different species of chameleon, and the aptly named, bizarrely shaped giraffe beetle, with bright red torso and long black neck, as well as tiny frogs (thumb sized) and spiders the same size. Back at Vakona Lodge, we were lucky to have a front row seat (on the balcony overlooking the lake) of a Madagascar Kingfisher, with its striking orange and blue plumage, brilliant in the light as it dove for fish.

8 April 2014

On Sunday, we drove 6-7 hours from Andasibe to Antsirabe, through verdant landscapes of rice paddies. Along the way, we stopped at a market stall to buy bananas, and another later for corn and spiny (Chinese) cucumber. We also came across a festive gathering of families along the river, near some granite outcrops, where people congregate, perhaps once a month, to do laundry and have a picnic. The clothes spread out on the hillside rocks made a colourful mosaic.

Antsirabe is a fairly big city, the capital, bustling with trade, human chariots (pus-pus?) and bicycle carts (tuk-tuks). Our accommodation, the Couleur Café, was a lush green oasis, with manicured lawns and blossoming bushes, in total contrast with the dusty scenes beyond its walls. We slept, beneath a mosquito net as we have done every night, with the added benefit of a crackling fireplace.

On Monday, Indira woke feeling unwell – seemingly a stomach bug which left her weak and unable to eat the whole day. Consequently, she spent most of the 7-8 hour drive from Antsirabe to Morondava flat on her back on the back seat of the car. As we drove, the landscape became visibly drier, with rice paddies giving way to maize fields and mango trees. We passed huge eroded gashes of red earth, in stark contrast to the green hills and blue skies.

At one point, we stopped near a rural school along the roadside. Soon, an excited throng of children surrounded Indira. We went into the classroom – fairly well equipped with desks and blackboard – much to the delight of the chattering kids. Even the teachers seemed happy with the unexpected curiosity of our visit. As we approached Morondava, we got our first glimpses of the baobabs that characterise this region, before arriving at Chez Maggie, the beachside accommodation where we are staying two nights.

This morning, Indira had recovered some of her strength and appetite, so after breakfast we took a canoe ride across the lagoon and a short way up river, flanked by mangrove forests. Our local guides, two brothers from a nearby island, pointed out the kingfishers along the banks and gave us some idea of life here. We passed an abandoned hotel, which was wiped out by a cyclone in 2003, before visiting the little fishing village across the lagoon. The community seemed fairly self sufficient, but clearly poor, with simple wooden huts and no running water or sanitation. Apart from the poverty, the biggest eyesore is all the plastic litter (bottles and bags). It seems that the plastic ‘flowers’ of Western civilization bloom most prolifically in the poorest communities, a rather sad legacy of ‘progress’.

11 April 2014

On Tuesday afternoon, we drove to the avenue of baobabs, about 30 minutes outside of Morondava. It was such a privilege to be among dozens of these mighty giants, which I believe are around 300 years old. As is to be expected, there were local villagers selling crafts – we bought some wood carvings – and little children pestering to have their photos taken. Indira became quite the favourite among the kids and added to their wonder when she played the Indri singing she had recorded on her iphone. The group ‘selfie’ was also a delight to behold. I put my sun glasses on one little girl, and then a cheeky little boy, to everyone’s general amusement. We stayed until sunset and were able to soak up some of the magic of the place, as birds swirled above and finally settled in the trees.

On Wednesday, we flew to Tana, where we were put up in a hotel (Les Flots Blue) by Air Madagascar due to them rescheduling our connecting flight. We went into town for dinner with Tim and Hery (co-authors for the Madagascar chapter of the World Guide to Sustainable Enterprise) and Tim’s wife.

Yesterday, we flew on to Nosy Be and arrived at our little slice of paradise, L’heuer Bleu, where we will stay for our last five nights. Our wooden bungalow look throw coconut trees to the ocean and small bay, and we have a salt water spill pool and a fresh water swimming pool, plus bar and restaurant deck, all a few metres from us. Last night we went for a stroll along the beach, past two football games, one Malagasy boy practicing break dancing, one descaling a fish, two cutting up a small shark, and lots of little kids diving from a boat and swimming in the sea. These are the places for which the word ‘idyllic’ was invented.

This morning, we woke to watch the sunrise, then went back to bed for a few more hours of sleep, before taking a dip in the pool (me) and having a delicious breakfast – with fresh fruit and juice – on the deck. Now we are back at the pool – Indira sun tanning and me writing; both as happy as pigs in mud.

Wrote Roots in the Skies (poem)

15 April 2014

Our stay at Nosy Be has been extremely relaxing, with many hours spent by the poolside after a delicious breakfast of fresh fruit and juice, pancakes (or scrambled eggs) and tea (or coffee). Lunch has typically been salad rolls and dinner, when we have felt hungry enough, has been a mix-and-match with salads, chips, spaghetti, breaded Camembert, and a variety of desserts, such as coconut or banana tart and Caribbean banana. Most afternoons we walked the 2 km stretch of beach to the other side of the bay and several times took a stroll through the adjacent village. We got the impression that many local Malagasy are still poor, but not as destitute as some in the rural areas of the mainland.

One disappointing discovery was that the sex tourism trade flourishes here – typically old, white men from France and Italy with young Malagasy women, some quite possibly underage. We even had the embarrassment of two men in the bungalow next to ours carrying on indecently with young girls on the balcony at 2 am one morning. We found out that two French men and a Malagasy were murdered on the very beach that our bungalow overlooks. In October last year, they were caught and burned to death by an angry mob who claimed they had a history of paedophilia or capturing young children all over Madagascar. No wonder the FCO and other government offices issued (albeit misleading) warnings about travel to the country.

Yesterday, we went on an excursion to the nearby mini island of Tanikely, 20 minutes by speed boar. Our intention was to snorkel among the coral reefs, but the water was full of stinging jellyfish. I still went ahead and saw some beautiful, colourful fish, but suffered stings on my face, arms and legs as a consequence. Fortunately, the discomfort was temporary and the rashes disappeared quickly. The coral itself was disappointing, 99% bleached and much of it broken, leaving the seabed looking like a cemetery of bones. The guide said this was due to the damaging effects of storm activity and tourism, but I suspect the acidification of the oceans due to climate change is playing its part as well.

After relaxing under the shady trees on the beach – and spotting a curious macaco lemur overhead – we had a picnic lunch (mostly seafood – crab, shrimps and barracuda, but also potato salad and coconut rice). Beneath a nearby tree, we watched hundreds of hermit crabs scurrying to and fro, before walking up a path through the forest to a lighthouse on top of the hill with panoramic views of the surrounding ocean, with Nosy Be, Nosy Komba and the Madagascar mainland on the horizon.

On the way there, we stopped to watch some grey lemurs in the trees and were attacked by a swarm of mosquitos. By the time we realised, our legs were already full of welts. From the lighthouse, our guide spotted a beautiful chameleon with a green body with dark blue stripes and an orange head. Our guide told us that local people often kill this particular species, because it has suicidal tendencies which bring bad luck. Apparently, if the chameleon cannot find enough food, it deliberately eats poisonous leaves (such as cassava), then hangs itself from a branch by its tail and dies. Sad but true.

Our final night was spent watching the third in the Madagascar animated movie trilogy, having watched the first two on previous nights. The tide in the bay was very high, washing right up against the beach houses. We suspect the full moon or lunar eclipse which are due around this time must be the cause. We will take away many wonderful memories from Madagascar – of the lemurs and chameleons, the excited school children and the curious villagers we met, the incredible baobabs and tropical beaches, and our friendly guides. We return with a few gifts – sculptures of baobabs, a canoe and a woman and bright kaftans with ethnic designs.

Now on our way home, just a hop (Antananarivo), skip (Paris) and jump (Amsterdam) – and 24 hours of flying.

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Zimbabwe Notes 2014

28 May 2014

Good session in Joburg this morning for Dimension Data on “Your Future Fitness as a Leader & Transforming your Organisation”. Tonight I fly to Zimbabwe – beautiful land of my birth – to speak at a CSR and CSV Indaba. I look forward to unmasking elephants in the room.

RIP Maya Angelou – you inspired many and will continue to empower through your words. And still we rise!

30 May 2014

En route Harare-Joburg-Cape Town. After my parachute-in visit to Zimbabwe – arriving in the dark and leaving the dark – I come away with a few impressions.

Power supply is intermittent, with many street lights, and even airport terminal lights, either turned off or not working. The two nights I stayed – in a hotel and a lodge – were both without the luxury of hot water. Roads in the city lack maintenance, but are by no means undriveable. The mood swings between hope and pessimism, but the general feeling is of being let down by government. The biggest immediate problem seems to be a liquidity crisis, including government employees being paid late for the past three months.

Despite all this, the people I met at the conference I was speaking at all displayed great pride in being Zimbabwean, and especially their ability to survive and adapt. This is a country that has been through decades of breakdown, and the result is remarkable resilience. As I commented to one of the delegates, these survival skills may be in premium demand in future as the rest of the world enters decades of increasing volatility and crisis.

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USA Notes 2014

6 September 2014

On my way from London to Detroit today to explore a transatlantic partnership on sustainability and CSR.

7 September 2014

Residence Inn Ann Arbor is home away from home for the next week. It’s near a Burger King & a shopping mall (Briarwood), so I’m all set ;-). Oh my ding-dong-doolally word! I discovered some bigger-than-my-face cookies at the mall (no salad on the side either). As it is, I’m feeling guilty about breakfast, not because of the waffle I had, but everything was throwaway – cups, plates, cutlery, milk.

I spent the day walking around the city, including Michigan University campus and the Museum of Art. There was even a touch of Cambridge about the Law Club building, so I really feel at home. But it got me thinking: Why do we create inspiring green park campuses for students, then send them to work in soulless grey towers?

Among the more interesting sights: American Apparel advertising that they are ‘Sweatshop Free’ in their shop window, and a pedestrian crossing sign that someone had added wings to, so that it looked like an Angel Crossing. Or perhaps it was Nike, which I just discovered is the Greek Winged Goddess of Victory.

12 September 2014

Meetings yesterday were with Tom Bruusema from NSF Sustainability and J. Scot Sharland from AIAG (Automotive Industry Action Group). Enjoyed dinner last night with the inspiring Pradeep Chowdhry – serial innovator, BOP (Bottom of the Pyramid) pioneer and sustainability professor. Today, I also had a good conversation with General Motors Director of Sustainability David Tulauskas. Expecting great things from the new GM.

13 September 2014

Detroit, MI – I have enjoyed my week in Michigan. Working with Chad Kymal from Omnex has given me a rare opportunity to come full circle with my professional journey, connecting back to the kind of business transformation consulting I did at Cap Gemini 20 years ago, but this time applied to my area of interest, i.e. corporate responsibility and sustainability.

The process of co-creating services for Omnex led to an intellectual breakthrough of my own, namely to coin Creating Integrated Value (CIV) as the successor to CSR (Corporate Social Responsibility), CSV (Creating Shared Value) and Corporate Sustainability. This is about integrating across issues – which we’ve called S2QE3LCH2, standing for safety, social, quality, economic, environment, ethics, labour, carbon, health and human rights – as well as across management systems and the value chain. Besides designing the CIV approach and services in some detail, the outcome is that Omnex wants me to head up (part time) their CR & sustainability services globally.

Apart from working, I had a chance today to visit the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, where I drove in a Model T Ford and saw a replica of Thomas Edison’s Menlo Park laboratory complex. It was good to see an acknowledgement – in their review of the 20th century – of the historical impact of the environmental movement after Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring and more recent pioneers like Seventh Generation. I was struck by how far our technology has come in the past 100 years, but paradoxically how we have failed to reimagine the car in all that time.

Displays like the Weinermobile made me think that innovation without a meaningful goal – like creating a better world – is a waste of imagination. By contrast, Edison’s inventions have all gone through countless waves of creative destruction and reinvention. Of the two figures, I found myself impressed by Ford and inspired by Edison. I also visited the Detroit Institute of the Arts before heading to the airport (and passing the World’s Largest Tyre along the highway).

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Sri Lanka Notes 2014

27 September 2014

On my way to Colombo in Sri Lanka. I will lose 4.5 hours but gain about 10 degrees Celsius. Looking forward to a week of new (in)sights.

28 September 2014

Watched “Transcendence” on the plane. It didn’t get great reviews but I enjoyed the human vs machine, imminent apocalypse sci-fi action. Was surprised with floral greetings at the airport in Colombo – a garland of fresh orchids that made me feel very welcome to Sri Lanka. Loving the fresh tropical fruit – not only the availability but also many varieties of each fruit.

30 September 2014

Yesterday, I did a study tour with two colleagues from MVO Nederland. Our first stop was the Dutch fort in Galle, uninteresting except for the fact that its ramparts likely saved lives during the 2004 tsunami, which killed more than 30,000 Sri Lankans. Next, we visited a care home for the mentally and physically disabled, which relies on the Buddhist practice of dana (giving) among the local community, as well as donations from a Dutch multinational, to sustain itself. The residents seemed well looked after, albeit without much in the way of stimulating activities at the home.

Our final destination, 2.5 hours further along the highway and up a winding road into the mountains, was Talawakelle Tea Estates near the small town of Deniyaya. It was fascinating to be shown how this Rainforest Alliance certified farm has changed and adapted to reduce the use of chemicals, increase biodiversity corridors, improve worker’s health (including tackling alcoholism) and stimulate children’s education. They are even piloting an employee ownership scheme called Growing Together, where families are given a plot of land to grow their own tea, which the estate guarantees to buy.

It is not hard to see why foreigners described Sri Lanka as a paradise. The landscape is lush and tropical, with coconut, papaya, banana and mango trees, bright hibiscus and sweet smelling frangipani flowers, rice paddies carpeting the valleys and green tea plantations clinging to the hill slopes. The humid climate is mildly oppressive, but is regularly cooled by torrential downpours. The population remains poor, with per capita GDP of $3,280, but unemployment is less than 10%, GDP growth is around 7%, urban slums are few and far between and the infrastructure is already well established and maintained (especially the roads).

2 October 2014

Last night I attended a dinner at the residence of the Netherlands Ambassador in Sri Lanka & was treated to delicious food and fabulous company. Guests were mostly Sri Lankan and Dutch business leaders. I usually have mixed feelings about the role of privileged diplomats in developing countries, but in this case their relationship brokering and facilitation of knowledge and technology exchange seems to add genuine value.

Today, I took a walk from the hotel down to the National Museum & Gallery. The museum was fairly old fashioned in its displays, but included some beautiful stone carved statues and ancient paintings (some 5th century) – mostly of Buddha and other religious figures. I’m loving the Buddhist culture in Sri Lanka – it resonates very nicely with my Taoist philosophy.

The city bustles, as most do, but gives the distinct feeling of being midway through a massive upgrade – which is precisely what you would expect in an emerging economy. The steamy tropical air is pungent with the whiff of sewage and petrol fumes, interlaced with the scent of spices and fruits. Everywhere you look, construction is going on – with pavements being dug up and new hotels and office blocks rising from the dust.

The traffic is chaotic – with three wheelers, cars and buses weaving every which way – but there is more patience and discipline and less honking than in other emerging cities like those in India or Malaysia.

The emergent nature of things here may explain the generally positive attitudes and cultural pride I have encountered. Having lived with deprivation and conflict in the past, the present wave of income growth and peace (not unrelated) brings a certain contentment and hope for the future, despite many still being poor.

The high levels of education, good English among the professional classes and relatively well protected labour rights all give Sri Lanka a competitive advantage in the region, besides their cultural geniality and natural assets.

3 October 2014

Looking forward to giving the keynote on sustainability leadership at the CSR Sri Lanka inaugural conference. We’re holding the fort for CSR around the world, as CSR International joins with CSR Netherlands and CSR Sri Lanka this week.

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Russia Notes 2014

17 November 2014

On our way from a rainy London to an icy Moscow, where the temperatures will not rise above freezing for the duration of our visit this week. Later, hearty dinner at Jagannath, the first/only vegetarian restaurant in Moscow, then a short walk in the freezing cold.

18 November 2014

Hotel Kyznetskiyi Inn, Moscow – Indira and I arrived in Moscow yesterday and were met at the airport and delivered to our hotel by our host for the next few days, Victoria. After checking in, we discovered a charming vegetarian café – apparently the first/only in the city – where we enjoyed a hearty meal and delicious sweets (both rather more inspired by India than Russia). Our rather stylish hotel, which is decked in marble, furnished with gilded chairs and swathed in theatrical drapes, is unfortunately also located right next to a nightclub. Needless to say, it was ‘all about that base’ and we were kept awake by a dull throbbing soundtrack until the early hours.

Today, we had a sumptuous architectural & cultural eye-feast at the Kremlin, Cathedral Square, Lenin’s tomb and the Pushkin gallery. At 10 am, somewhat bleary eyed from the 3-hour time difference with London, not to mention a general lack of sleep, we were met by Victoria at the hotel and set off on foot to see the Kremlin. It is a vast complex and it is hard not to be impressed by the cathedrals with their scalloped roofs, bell towers and golden domes (or in the case of Saint Basil’s Cathedral, its smartie-box coloured turrets looking like something out of a fantasy candy-world.

The visit to Lenin’s tomb was slightly surreal; he looks more like a Madame Tussauds wax work than the real remains of a national hero and global icon. We stopped at the local, exclusive shopping centre and I had a hot chocolate, which, I must add, was like melted chocolate with no more than a drop of milk, so thick and rich it was. Then we walked the 3 km or so to the Pushkin Museum and Gallery, and discovered that not only did it have nothing on Pushkin, it had no Russian art either. So we whisked around the Roman, Greek, Egyptian and Mesopotamian display halls and paused briefly in the European section to admire some beautiful Rembrandt portraits (of an old man and an old woman).

Victoria then took her leave and we had a scrumptious late lunch at The Academy restaurant – cream of broccoli soup and spaghetti with fresh tomatoes and basil for me. I then had a quick peek in the adjacent cathedral (spectacular, yet a bit same-old same-old), after which we strolled back to the hotel, as the setting sun turned golden turrets brilliant and factory smoke pink against the fading sky.

We stopped on the way (mainly to thaw out) at the Magnolia café – a bakery with an assorted array of treats (Indira had a beetroot red ‘velvet’ cheesecake; I a much less adventurous cinnamon biscuit). Final stop at an international bookshop, where we bought a beautiful hand-sized edition of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina (for Veneta) and an illustrated collection of Pushkin’s fairytales.

19 November 2014

Another sleep-deprived night of base-beat torture. In the morning, we were met by Alexey Kostin, who I have only previously met virtually as Russia’s contributor to The World Guide to CSR. In fact, it was Alexey who recommended me as a keynote speaker for tomorrow’s conference. After a coffee, we took the subway (which seems perfectly efficient, albeit rather noisy) to visit the art gallery of Zurab Tsereteli.

What a revelation! We were blown away by the variety, vividness, energy and scale (micro and macro) of his paintings and sculptures. I loved how so many of his art works depict ‘ordinary’ people, although he is no stranger to celebrity sculptures (Putin, Charlie Chaplin, Princess Diana, Van Gogh, Mother Teresa, etc.).

I kept shaking my head in awe at the volume of work, the audacity of ambition and the incredible diversity of styles, themes and subjects. He is a true artist – a creative spirit who could express himself in virtually any medium, should he choose to do so. Afterwards, we travelled to the Venetsia restaurant for an excellent lunch, before returning to the hotel (and a quieter room, we hope).

Alexey’s perspectives on Russia and CSR were most interesting and informative. It is clear he fears for the impacts of the present Ukraine crisis, although does not believe Putin is entirely to blame. CSR, it seems, has stalled, with companies adopting a ‘wait-and-see’ attitude. Meanwhile, with plentiful resources and a strong oil and gas industry, environmental issues like climate change stand little chance of making it onto the agenda.

Although multinationals keep pace with developments like GRI reporting, it seems the appetite and pressure for transforming business to be more sustainable is negligible. I have a feeling Russia will need to discover its own path towards creating integrated value, perhaps through corporate governance or state sponsored social responsibility.

There is already a strong paternalistic tradition of philanthropy, but this is unlikely to do much more than treat the symptoms of our socio-economic ills, rather than the cause. Somehow, the situation here appears similar to how I image the operating context and approach of Rockefeller in the ‘robber baron’ 1800s in the USA. Of course, tomorrow’s conference may dispel this as a myth.

In the evening, we met Fabrice Mathieu, head of sustainability for Royal Canin, for drinks at the Space Bar at the top of the Swiss Hotel, with 360 degree panoramic views of the city.

20 November 2014

Looking forward to giving the keynote speech on Making a Difference through Social Responsibility at the MGIMO International Forum in Moscow. Later, excellent insights by Indira on social enterprise on the positive economics panel.

21 November 2014

En route Moscow to London. A misty, frosty morning (-8 degrees C) as we leave Moscow behind on a delayed flight home. Yesterday’s conference was more typical of an academic colloquium than a commercial seminar, with an over-packed agenda, much pontificating and little real discussion or audience participation. It presented a mixed picture of the state of CSR in Russia, with some clearly stuck in philanthropy mode and others excited about social enterprise.

If there was a common theme, it was a pervasive sense of crisis and relative impotence in the face of a less than positive outlook. My presentation and Indira’s panel contribution were both well received, and there is a good chance we will be invited back. However, I was left reflecting that ‘strategies for resilience’ may be a more helpful topic in future than ‘making a difference’ or ‘positive economics’.

Despite the warmth and hospitality of our hosts and Alexey, I could help feeling an insidious bleakness, whether from the dearth of trees in the city, the concrete block architecture, the stark winter landscapes, or the pessimism shadowing a shrinking economy facing multiple crises, I cannot be sure.

Nevertheless, it was wonderful to share this experience of Russia with Indira. Not only are we creating a rich mosaic of shared memories, but we are also starting to shape a collaborative and complementary work offering. Ahead, we have Ecuador and very likely Sri Lanka together.

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