Leaving a Mark

Habari,

I’ve been a little on edge this week with all of the natural activities taking place back home (Philadelphia, PA).  First there was the 5.8 earthquake which was followed up by the over hyped Hurricane Irene…the hurricane that really wasn’t.  I’ve always poo-pooed the importance of social media and thought people should have better things to do than wonder what everyone else is doing every minute of the day.  But, Facebook was my life line during last week’s natural siege.  All of my peeps back home kept me abreast of how things were going and reassured me that I had nothing to worry about.  My mom and family are fine and my house is still standing.  Whew!

The weather in Nairobi has been pretty brisk.  I’m sleeping under a comforter at night and the morning air is a bit nippy.  I still can’t believe this is the weather in an African country.  The beauty of Nairobi is that it’s elevated like Denver.  It doesn’t have the stifling heat you would expect from an African country.  I’ve been told by the natives that hottest temperature I can expect will be about 85 degrees.  Now I hate to sweat, but even I can tolerate that.  I couldn’t have picked a better African country to do my international assignment.  This week while I was waiting in yet another embassy (this time the Indian Embassy), talking to my Trusted Employee who had accompanied me, I was hit by the magnitude of what we are here to do.

You see, the current IBM team supporting this account represents 22 countries from around the world.  Our mission is to identify local talent and build the skills necessary for them to take over the management and hopefully the growth of this account.  If all goes well, we will all return to our respective countries in two to three years and leave the account in the skilled, capable hands of the locals.  I don’t believe I’ve mentioned it before in this blog, but the revenue for this account is over a billion and a half dollars over a 10 year period.  Master Pu, I don’t believe I’ve let out any secrets by saying this, but if I have, you can strangle me later. J Now, that’s a large account in any part of the world.  Can you imagine what that will do for the local economies of the 16 countries involved in the account?  In Nairobi, there are other major companies, like GE, who are charged with the same mission, so this is an exciting time to be here.

I’m most excited about what we will be able to do for the people of these African countries.  We can provide them with marketable skills and meaningful careers.  Those of you who have known me for some time will know that this is really right up my alley. Talk about leaving your mark.  Now, I will admit that it will be an uphill battle.  Not all of the people I have encountered share the same drive and work ethical of your typical IBMer, but working yourself into the ground shouldn’t be everybody’s goal anyway.  But, we will definitely have to do something about the price you sometimes pay to do business here. LOL

Next week, if the stars align, I will be travelling in India on business.  I’m looking forward to experiencing yet another culture on this wonderful journey.  I can also tell about my encounter at the Indian Embassy.  All I will say is, I miss having the ability to ask to speak to someone’s manager about their performance in an effort to correct their bad behavior.  All I get to do here is be ‘nice and yummy.’  Until next week people…Enjoy it to the fullest.

Asante Sana,

Della Rochelle

Copyright © 2011 by Della Rochelle Williams

A Lesson in Efficiency

Habari, 

This weekend I had the distinct pleasure of witnessing a true authentic part of Nairobi.  You see, I went to get my hair rebraided on Sunday.  I was determined to get my hair done in Nairobi instead of paying the exorbitant prices back in the US, for less than stellar service.  One of my trusted employees accompanied me to the Kenyatta Market.  This isn't a tourist trap by any means.  This is where Kenyans go to shop, eat and get their hair done.   

We got there a little before 10am.  The market was pretty empty compared to how packed it was when we left. I didn't have high expectations going in, but little did I know there were some minimum expectations in my subconscious.  I expected that we would go to a modest salon with a couple of hair braiders.   When we walked up on the location, I kept walking past, because I thought it was just a place to hover if you got caught in the rain.  LOL 

There was no salon with permanent chairs and fixed mirrors. There was a semi open space with a single sink, a crude electrical hookup and plastic chairs that you would temporarily put on your patio.  There were three women waiting and I realized we were their first clients of the day.  They immediately started talking to us in Swahili.  My trusted employee let them know I didn’t speak Swahili.  Now normally this would be an opportunity for them to charge me a higher price, but my employee wasn’t having any of that and stood her ground.   

She had already schooled me before we even left my apartment.  She made me take out my earrings, ensured my clothes were less than plain, that I didn’t wear any makeup and that I didn’t speak much once we got there.  She said all those things would increase my price.  LOL.  When I asked her if I could take my phone, she said absolutely not because that would increase the chances of robbery.   

The women immediately started prepping us to get our hair braided.  My trusted employee needed her hair washed, but I washed my hair that morning.  I was quickly seated in a plastic yard chair in the open market pass through, straddling a small drainage ditch.  I was wrapped in a cloth and my hair was combed out.  They handed me a few examples of twists of different sizes so I could identify how thick I wanted the individual twists to be.  I pointed to the size I wanted and my trusted employee started giving them instruction on what not to do with my head, like not pulling my edges too tight.  She insisted on getting a price before they started on my head.  I was so impressed by her ability to negotiate.   

After a price was agreed, much to their chagrin, a Kenyan price, they got started. Two women started on my head, one in the front and one in the back.  I started to believe my hair wouldn’t take anywhere near the eight hours it took in the U.S.  The ladies were extremely fast and thorough.  After they completed a few twists, they gave me a mirror to make sure I was happy with the size and the quality.  I was very satisfied.   

Shortly afterwards, a third woman joined the team.  I assumed she would add yet another hand for completing the job faster, but that wasn’t the case.  You see, the first two women would twist the hair to a certain point and then move on the next section of hair.  My trusted employee tried to warn me about the role of this third hair dresser before we came, but I didn’t really get it.  When the woman asked me to adjust my arm on the armrest and she put her foot on the arm rest with her knee across the front of my face, the light bulb went on.  LOL. 

Now, she was trying to prepare me for this because she was aware of how we Americans are with our personal space.  This violation of personal space would never work in the States.  There was also the disastrous possibility of a hygiene issue.  OMG!!  Luckily for ALL parties involved, the young lady didn’t have any hygiene issues, but you have to picture this.  On my left side there is a woman working on one side of my head.  In the back there is another woman twisting my hair and on the right side there is a woman with her foot on the arm of the chair and her knee across my face while she rolls the twists to completion on her thigh.  Now, I could not give this explanation justice so my trusted employee took pictures. 

As I took in my surroundings as all of this is going on, I notice that new customers arrived after us.  Now there were only three women at the shop when we started, but each person who showed up got three people on their heads as well.  I have NO idea where these other braiders came from, but it seems like the stream was endless and the clients were just lined up in the open market. 

In a short three hours, my hair was done.  I couldn’t believe it!  Those of you who know me, know that I have a big head full of thick woolly hair.  And, those of you in the States will NEVER believe how much it cost.  It was 980 shilling.  That is equivalent of a little over $11 bucks.  You can’t get anything done to your hair in the States for that much money.  I was dumbfounded.  Now how efficient is that?  I could never go to the market on my own to get my hair done, but I will certainly try to align getting my hair done with one of the women in the office.  It was a tremendous experience.  Tune in next week folks, the saga will continue. 

Asante Sana,

Della Rochelle

Copyright (c) 2011 by Della Rochelle Williams

Returning to Nairobi for the Long Haul

Habari Everyone,

I've just returned to Nairobi from the States after spending two weeks with friends and family. This time family really dominated my time (Happy 70th Birthday Momma Rose) but I didn't mind because they won't see me again until Christmas. It's been a very long time since I've missed Labor Day and especially Thanksgiving with my family. There are a number of life events I will miss over the next four and a half months. My dear friend Christina's wedding to her handsome fiancé Sam, my little cousin Kiara's beginning of college, and my brother Allen's 50th birthday (sorry bro, but you're not 29 anymore), are just a few of the important events I'll miss while I'm in Nairobi until Christmas.

I'll have to trick myself into thinking Thanksgiving is just another day. I mean, I haven't even seen a turkey since I've been here. I've seen chickens and if the turkeys are treated like their cousins (being transported to slaughter on top of a public bus) then I may have to pass. I been told that Nairobi's sweet potatoes/yams are more like potatoes and nobody has been able to smuggle any into the country. The thought of Thanksgiving, or the fall in general, without sweet potato pie or candied yams is unbearable. Even Master Pu asked me if my mom could send a frozen sweet potato pie through the mail. SMH.

Fall is my favorite season of the year hands down. I love the changing of the leaves, the crisp weather and the month of October because I was born on its 29th day. Now, I was really dreading spending my birthday alone in Nairobi, but my dear friend Carol came to the rescue. She agreed to host me in the great city of London for my birthday weekend (it will be an extended weekend). I'm so thrilled. Good looking out Carol.

Now that I think about it, I haven't heard of any national holidays in Nairobi since I've been here. What happened to all of the frivolous holidays in countries outside of the US that we Americans envy? I am ready to partake, because this year I worked on the July 4th. I'm looking for some reciprocity. LOL

I am looking forward to my impending trip to the lovely country of India on September 3rd. The irony about this trip is that my friend Christina, who is Indian, will be getting married that day in good old New Jersey. SMH. Sorry Christina, I feel awful :-( I will get a chance to see the Taj Mahal while I'm there. So I will celebrate your love, where one of the greatest love stories ever told occurred.

Coming back into the country, I realized I had lost a bit of my ‘nice and yummy.’  As I came down the ramp to immigration, I was met by droves of tourists.  You see, this is the best time to come to Kenya to witness the wildebeest migration.  The migration is definitely a bucket list item that should be experienced by as many people as possible.  But, Jack Nickelson and Morgan Freeman were not among the masses in the crowd standing before me.  This wide-eyed, naïve group of unsuspecting tourist had no idea how to navigate the maze that is Nairobi immigration. 

There was a family of tourist from London who attached themselves to me as we deplaned.  I had been sitting next to the mother and father during the flight from London Heathrow.  They had questioned me about my experience in visiting the continent of Africa.  It was a nice chat, but my main goal was getting off the plane as soon as possible to make it to the visa line before everyone else on the plane.  As I dashed off of the plane, I assumed I would never see the family again.  Little did I know, they were right on my heels.  So much so, that they bumped into me when I finally reached the end of line and stopped.  They smiled sheepishly and said they figured I knew what I was doing.  LOL

Since they were standing BEHIND me, I didn’t see any harm in helping them out.  I asked the father if he had exact change for the visa, because if you don’t, the immigration officer could conveniently tell you that they don’t have change. SMH.  Next, I checked to see if they filled out both the immigration form and visa application correctly.  I had been watching the people in front of us making rookie mistakes.  You ask what those mistakes are.  Well, let me tell you:

1.       Not filling out the form and application accurately and completely.  They will make you step out of line to correct your mistake if you don’t.

2.       Not having the exact change.  No sense in paying $60 for a visa that only cost $50 because you only had twenty dollar bills from the ATM.

3.       Showing your frustration at the immigration officer’s slow pace.  SMH.  The officer will slow to a pace that will make you think you’re watching grass grow.

4.       Arguing with the immigration officer when you are wrong, or when they are wrong for that matter.  To get through this process, they are always right…for the few moments you spend with them.

5.       Not hearing the officer when they ask you to stand in front of the camera for your picture or not remembering your left hand from the right when having your fingerprints digitally collected.  Attitude will materialize instantaneously and without warning.

6.       Thinking you can ask to speak to the manager to get your problem resolved.  You will get played like an unsuspecting New York City tourist playing Three Card Monte.  LOL

A cool hour and a half later, the London family was sweating bullets, hoping they would able to get through immigration unscathed.  I had my doubts, but I was next in line and would not associate myself any further with a group of tourist who had never been to Kenya.  Hey, I had helped them enough, thank you very much.  It was time for them to fend for themselves. LOL.  Besides, I didn’t want to be dinged by association. 

Although the long wait made me lose some of my ‘nice and yummy’ I got it back quick in order to charm the immigration officer.  I was so pleasant and understanding, I even commented on how incompetent the rest of these people were.  That got a laugh and I knew I would sail through the process.  Listen, survival of the fittest takes on a whole new meaning in Africa.  Needless to say, I breezed through the line after that, but I had already lost an hour and a half due to the lack of preparation of these tourists.  SMH.  After I was released, I turned to wish my London family good luck and kept it moving.  The first thing I heard when they stepped up to the immigration counter was, “you need to step back…one at a time!” The attitude in that statement told me these people were in trouble.  SMH…I tried.  So people, if you plan on coming to Africa any time soon, do your homework!!

Okay folks, I’m going to close this post out.  Join me again next week as the saga continues.  Don’t forget to sign up as a follower.

Asante Sana (that means thanks a lot),

Della Rochelle

Copyright © 2011 by Della Rochelle Williams

Americans, are we really that spoiled?

Habari, 

I've been back in the States since last Saturday, the 30,^th to celebrate my mother's 70^th birthday. Happy Birthday Mama Rose! August 8, 1941 was a great day in history. The entire time at home, I've been noticing all that I've taken for granted in the past. The first thing that caught my attention was how much I missed getting behind the wheel of a car and driving myself wherever I wanted to go.

I feel like a piece of my independence has been taken since I've been in Nairobi. You see, IBM provides transportation in the form of a car and driver. Don't get me wrong, I have NO desire to drive the streets of Nairobi and certainly not Lagos, but I do miss the independence. There's nothing like jumping in a car and taking yourself from point A to B.

The next thing I noticed was the comfort of my bed! Yes, my bed. The mattresses in Nairobi should be used as weapons. I'm not joking at all. You better be careful plopping down on a mattress in Nairobi, you may break a hip. LOL. I wake up with sore hips and lower back all of the time. I find myself sleeping on extra pillows because the mattress doesn't give at all. I had trouble trying to figure out what I would ship to Nairobi since I wasn't selling my house. Well, a mattress will be the first thing in the container.

Now, the first thing I did when I built my home in the States was furnish my bedroom, which included a plush pillow top mattress. I wanted my bed and bedroom to be my oasis. As I found myself complaining about the mattresses to Master Pu one day, I stopped to think that there are millions of people in the world who would be happy to have a hard mattress to sleep on. SMH. Yes we are spoiled.

After a few days at home, I also noticed that I brushed my teeth with tap water without checking for my Cipro prescription. Now I will have to retrain myself not to run my toothbrush under the tap water when I return to Nairobi on Saturday. Being able to drink water from the tap without fear is definitely something we Americans take for granted. Clean water is not something we hope for, it is expected. Actually my Indian colleague laughed at me one day when he found out I had never been to Africa or Indian. He said, “Oh you've only eaten clean food and breathed clean air.” He got such a kick out of that statement. I was not laughing.

Speaking of food, I'm not sure I mentioned that there are NO fast food chains in Nairobi. At least not any of the American fast food places we are use to. Any of you who have travelled the world knows that no matter what corner of the earth you travel to, you can ALWAYS find a McDonald's french fry. Well, not in Nairobi. There are no McDonald's, Kentucy Fried or Burger King. OMG. Chick-Fil-a is my favorite chain and its not even that wide-spread in the States. I've been eating chicken since I've been home. That's not a good habit, but I had to get it out of my system.

During my mother's birthday party this weekend, I freely ate everything in front of me without worrying about whether I would get sick or not. And, everything tasted exactly as I expected it to...delicious. I could feel the pounds I lost in Nairobi coming back with every bite. LOL The birthday cake from Denise's (those of you from Philly know these cakes are legendary) was amazing as usual.

When I had to venture into a particularly shady part of North Philly to pick up my mom's birthday cake, I realized that my time in Lagos served me well. Usually the chaos and lack of civility near 22^nd street would put my nerves on edge. I was cool as a cucumber and a little uncivil myself. LOL. It will be interesting to see what type of person and business woman I will be when this assignment is over.  I wonder if I will be any less spoiled.  What do you think?

I'm going to enjoy my final few days in the States. This next stint in Nairobi will be a long one. I won't be home for Christmas. :-( Stay tuned people, the ride promises to be entertaining. Don't forget to sign up as a follower. See you from Nairobi next week.

Della Rochelle

Copyright © 2011 by Della Rochelle Williams

Held Hostage in Nigeria Part 2 of 2: Getting Here was the Easy Part

Lagos Market

Habari,

I wanted to continue the saga that was my trip to Nigeria.  After I begrudgingly succeeded in obtaining my Nigerian visa, I spent the weekend dreading the idea of going to Lagos.  I had been warned about so many things I would encounter during my visit, I didn't know what to be more concerned about.  The flight was scheduled for 7:30am Monday morning so I wouldn't have time to work myself up.

The plan was to have Master Pu's driver, Mr. George, pick me up at 4:30am and then go to pick up Master Pu. The first sign of trouble was when I got a text from Master Pu AFTER I moved my suitcase and tired body down to the lobby of my building.  The message was to inform me that our flight was delayed four and a half hours!  WTH.  Kenya Airlines just decided to sit the whole morning out.  The good thing was I would get to sleep a little longer.  Lucky me.

Once we got on our way, I received more warnings about Nigerians and how they behave.  I was told that the ticket seating supplied by the airlines are just suggestions to the Nigerians.  Just what I needed after being stirred out of my bed at an ungodly hour.  I was ready for a fight so I was waiting for somebody to sit in my seat.  So, I put on my rude New Yorker face to board the plane.  Come to find out, I was the one sitting in someone else's seat.  LOL.  Turns out the other executive (let's call him the Naval Officer) traveling with us was sitting next to me, but I was in his seat. So he says out loud, "so you're acting like a Nigerian today?" Ha!

The flight was pretty unevenful and I chatted with my neighbor the entire time.  However, I realized that Nigerians didn't follow any of the rules that are strictly adhered to in the States.  First, taking your seat before the plane pushes back from the gate seems to be a suggestion.  The guy across the aisle from us talked on his cell until we were barreling down the runway.  All I could do was shake my head, but when we landed, I was dumbfounded.  As soon as the plane hit the ground people were out of their seats.  LOL.  I was like, damn, welcome to Lagos.

I was concerned about getting through immigration, but my concern was unwarranted.  I brought my 'nice and yummy' with me.  I smiled and used my happy voice.  The immigration officers didn't give me any problems at all and Master Pu rolled his eyes whenever they dragged out my name...DeeeLlaa.  LOL.  Shortly after getting through immigration and waiting for our luggage, we discovered that there was going to be a three day national labor strike starting on Wednesday. 

You see, the Nigerian labor leaders wanted to strike to protest failures to pay a new, national minimum wage.  Negotiations on a new minimum wage for Nigerians began more than two years ago with labor unions proposing as much as $340 a month. Lawmakers eventually settled on about $118 a month, or 18,000 Naira.  Even though the new minimum wage became law, 3 months later, no one had actually received the new wage.  When you look at things from this vantage point, the U.S. minimum wage doesn't look so bad.

I really didn't have any idea how the national strike would impact us, but Master Pu and the Naval Officer were resigned to the fact that we wouldn't be able to leave the country until the strike was over.  REALLY?!!  I couldn't believe I was going to be held hostage in Nigeria until Saturday.  Apparently word has gotten to my Indian counterpart, who had arrived a day earlier and our client, because the client cancelled their trip and my Indian colleague already made plans to leave Lagos the next morning.  I was less than thrilled.  Well, I needed to stay because I wanted to meet my team. I was willing to stick it out and Master Pu was going to stay the entire time.
 
As we were headed out of the airport, we had to show proof of our Yellow Fever vaccinations.  The Naval Officer had received his Yellow Fever vaccination 8 days before taking the trip and you are suppose to wait for 10 days before traveling.  Now, if you are traveling into  Nigeria, you need to make sure your I's are dotted and your T's are crossed.  Any misstep could make you a target.  Sure enough, the Naval Officer was pulled aside.  Master Pu and I didn't have a problem.  I was convinced my ease in passage was due to the fact that I looked more like a native with my braids.  As we waiting outside of arrivals, we grew a little concerned the longer it took for the Naval Officer to come out.  He came out of the door rolling his eyes and we knew he had been asked for a bribe. 
 
He told us that the female manager had asked him, "what do you have for me?  I'm a woman, do you have some chocolates for me?"  Yes folks, it happens just like that.  The Naval Officer pulled out his military identification card and asked her, "are you sure about that?" She let him go.  After watching the Naval Officer and Master Pu in action, I've realized that you can avoid the bribe by causing a scene or playing dumb.  They don't like difficult people.  They seem to assume you know the routine and should just comply.  As you can see from my last entry, I have a problem with complying.  SMH
 
When we stepped outside of the terminal there was a slew of people asking if you needed a taxi.  We already had a taxi scheduled, but he hadn't arrived.  Once the driver arrived we were on our way.  As soon as we got on the road, I got the immediate impression that there were way too many people in this city.  The roads were overrun by cars, mopeds, motorcycles, trucks and people walking in between vechicles selling everything from maps to prepaid phone cards to chicklets.  The beeping of horns was continuous and unnecesary.  The poverty level was visible everywhere you looked.  Master Pu informed me that the unemployment rate was 20 to 25 percent. Unbelieveable. 
 
The city just looked worn out.  Every inch of the city had been used up.  The pot holes threatened to bring about organ failure as we were tossed around in the vehicles.  As we were waiting in grid lock traffic, a small richa-type vechile scrapped the side of van.  Not one person got out of their car.  The driver of there vehicle looked at the side of our van and our driver looked at the side of the van and everybody continued on their way.  I was stunned.  If we were in the States, documents would need to be exchanged and police reports submitted.  As long as the vehicles are still functioning, no one cares in Lagos.

Federal Palace Hotel

I've taken up a lot of your time with this entry and I haven't touched on all of the topics.  I'll try to sum it up for you.  The roadsides of Lagos are filled with conflicting stories.  Everything from construction workers dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts while working (not a hard hat in sight), to makeshift food carts, to the Porche dealership in a city where the roads are barely passable.  We stayed in a 5-star hotel call Federal Palace.  It was a really nice hotel, but the water was unmistakingly brown!  The water was so brown that when you got out of the shower and dried off, the white towel would turn brown.  I didn't ask why the water was brown because I really didn't want to know. 
 
I'm sure there are many other stories to tell about Lagos, Niger...positive stories.  I'm hoping that I will find some over the next two years as I continue to visit the city.  Yes, my visits will not be avoidable.  SMH.  Now when people ask me how I like Nairobi, I tell them now that I've been to Lagos, I LOVE Nairobi.  LOL.  Stay tuned folks.  I'm back in the U.S. for the next two weeks, but I will keep the blog going because they are still stories to tell.  Join the party by singing up as a follower.
 
I will see you next week.
 
Della Rochelle
 
Copyright (c) 2011 by Della Rochelle Williams