18 May 2012

The War Against my Belly

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I came back to Indonesia with about 10 extra kg behind my belt. I like to blame my wife for this—she's a great cook, so it's not my fault that I'm supersizing.

Since she won't be here until the end of June, I have a chance to do something about it. Just imagineshe arrives at the airport, weary from the long flight, and is greeted not by a balding, middle-aged man who can't see his feet, but a sleek, muscular hunk with the body of an Olympic diving champion.

My mission: to lose at least five kgs before she arrives. Or at least to catch sight of my toes when I'm in the shower.

In Jakarta, I live in a house where a girl does all the cooking. Every few days she gives me a shopping list, written in Indonesian. After a session with Google Translate, I go to the supermarket. Kembang kol. Cauliflower. Ikan. Fish. Dada ayam tanpa tulang. Boneless chicken breasts. Got it.

I coldly ignore her requests for bread, potatos, and pasta. I spurn her pleas for mayonaise and beef. I know this worries her, but I'm on a mission.

Will it work? I don't know. I might have to stop drinking beer for a while, or join a gym. The things we do for love.

17 May 2012

Ascension of Jesus Day

Ascension
Today's a national holiday in Indonesia—Ascension Day, when Jesus Christ rose up into heaven. I had never heard of it before, but because of this feat, millions of Indonesians get a day off.

For me, it was a chance to catch up on some work. The guards at the office were a little surprised to see me working on a Christian holiday. We had a brief chat about it in my rusty Indonesian. It went like this:

Guard

Sir, today is a holiday.

Me

Yes, but I have a lot of work.

Guard

(Gesturing upwards with both hands, correctly guessing that I don't know the Indonesian word for Ascension.)

But what about...?

Me

(Pausing as I grasp for the right words.)  

He's already there.

15 May 2012

In Jakarta, finally

Jakarta

There isn't very much in this huge, grey city that would appeal to a visitor. Its streets are choked with slow-moving traffic, the air is toxic, and its trees barely make a dent in the concrete and smog.

But when I stepped out of the airport into the thick, humid air, I felt happy. It had been four years since I handed a one-way ticket to Ulaanbaatar to the Garuda Airlines check-in girl in Bali. She me a funny look, as if thinking, "So, who did you piss off ?" Leaving was hard, and ever since, I hoped I'd be able to come back one day.

Years later, in Ukraine, I was writing a blog post about Aceh for the 7th anniversary of the 2004 Tsunami, and I needed fresh information about the situation there. I dropped a note to a former colleague working for the Multi Donor Fund (MDF), a highly successful disaster reconstruction program for Aceh and Nias. Almost as an afterthought, I added: "P.S. If you hear of any short-term work in Jakarta, let me know."

That P.S. changed my life. It turned out that the MDF itself needed someone like me to do some writing and help close the program down (it finishes up at the end of the year). A door had opened. And it seemed like the whole world was plotting behind my back to get me to go through it. Everything, from contract arrangements to finding a place to live, fell into place like magic. There was a definite pull, an unmistakable feeling of inevitability, as if I were meant to go back and didn't have a choice.

Jakarta may not be a pretty sight. But the city is alive, it has energy, and it welcomed me back. I got into a taxi and said, in hesitant Indonesian, Selamat sore. The driver grinned and replied, Selamat sore, Pak. Mau ke mana? The taxi pulled away, and a new chapter in my life began.

22 Mar 2011

Making a Splash on World Water Day

Water
The United Nations seems to have a day for everything, from poetry (March 20) to families (May 15) to statistics (October 20). They even have a day for mountains (December 11). Some of these days are reasonable enough but mostly they're just ridiculous.

But World Water Day is different.  Anyone who has gone without a drink or a shower for a few days learns to appreciate it quickly. And when you don't have clean water for real, the consquences can be a lot more serious than stinking up your cubicle. Millions of people die every year from water-related diseases, and millions more have to spend a big chunk of their income to buy it.

 I saw this first-hand in Mongolia, where nearly half the population in the capital lives in heavily-polluted ger districts without running water or basic infrastructure. People there have to buy water and haul it in carts to their homes, often in sub-zero temperatures. They pay much more for it than people living in houses or apartments.

So I was pleased when IFC (where I now work part-time) chose World Water Day to launch Handshakeits new quarterly journal on PPPswhich covers private sector involvement in health, education and infrastructure in developing countries. The first issue, Tapped Out, focuses on water issues.

Subsequent issues will be on health, transport, cities, climate change and more. Visit www.ifc.org/handshake to download them (they're free) or sign up for the newsletter.




 

21 Feb 2011

A freaky apple

Freaky_apple

If someone offers you an apple, and you accept, you expect to get something that, well, looks like an apple.

Not in my house. When my daughter offers you an apple, you get something that looks like it was magnified a billion times by an electron microscope. Something related to viruses or spores, or a micro-piece of a parasite.

It still tastes like an apple, though. Except for the toothpicks.


5 Oct 2010

An accident in the bathroom

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Her screams echoed off the bathroom tiles, only slightly muffled by the sound of running water. I ignored them and got on with the job. I had given her three warnings, two more than necessary, but she ignored them all. It was brutal, but in the end I had to act. Minutes later, my daughter's hair was clean again.

But the screaming did not stop. Her eyes were open, so I knew she hadn't got soap in her eyes. She ran out of the bathroom to her mother in hysterics, leaving me baffled. I could hear her speaking in broken, Russian syllables between sobs.

"IDIOT!" This time it was my wife. "WHAT SHAMPOO DID YOU USE?" I showed her. Without a word, she pointed to the picture of the dog and cat on the bottle.

Well, at least she doesn't have ticks.

28 Sep 2010

One week in Ukraine

Ukraine
It's only been one week since I arrived in Kiev. I was exhausted from the gruesome flight through Moscow, and relieved that customs didn't rip my bags apart. But I felt ill at ease. This was the first time in years that I arrived in Ukraine without a a date for getting out.

At first, it was strange being back to stay. I had to get used to living with other people again, and deal with a new puppy that isn't house-trained. I'm also busy with new things. Getting the kids ready for school has become my job, and our never-ending search for a new apartment resumed. I've been so busy that I don't have time for a job.

Good thing I don't have one.

24 Sep 2010

Reflections on a small mammal

 

Dog
The smallest mammal in the house

I knew that moving to Ukraine would mean a lot of adjustments, like not being able to meet friends at the bar at a moment's notice. But I didn't expect it would mean sharing my home with a dog. That is, if you can apply the word dog to the tiny creature sitting at my feet as I write.

It has the shape of a dog. But it doesn't do anything that dogs normally do, like bark, slobber or shed. It doesn't jump into my face when I come home. It's so small it couldn't even jump to my knees. In fact, I'm not sure it can jump at all.

Which brings me to another point. If a robber breaks in, how is this creature going to protect us? Nobody will be afraid of a dog that's smaller than a cat. If it had a ferocious bark, maybe it could frighten intruders through noise alone. But the only sound I've ever heard from it was a quiet whimper, emitted when it couldn't jump down from the bed. At best, a robber might laugh himself to death.

And what about the healthy walks I expected to take every day? With those tiny legs, which are about the same size as a Barbie's, it couldn't possibly keep up with a human being. Whenever I take it outside it starts to tremble. I don't know if it's afraid of the great outdoors or if it doesn't have enough body fat to protect itself from Kiev's chilly September air. Jogging with the dog is not going to happen unless I'm carrying it.

But for all his shortcomings, the dog (I guess it's OK to call him a dog) is having a positive effect in my home. The kids don't fight as much, since they don't want to alarm him with their shouting. They speak more Russian (my wife told them that's the only language the puppy understands). But best of all, his sweetness has lifted my wife's spirits. She beams when he follows her and snuggles up. When we're out, she'll suddenly say, "I miss my dog." As soon as we get home, she calls him, and he comes running. I haven't seen her so happy in years.

For me, the biggest impact so far has been on my nighttime trips to the bathroom. I'm afraid of stepping on him, which would be fatal, so I shuffle along the floor in the darkness. I didn't think I'd being doing that for another 40 years. The dog and I have yet to bond, but that's fine with me. He's a girly-dog, after all.

22 Sep 2010

The incredible story of my Ukrainian arrival stamp

I've only been in Ukraine for about 24 hours, but I've already had an adventure involving not one, but two different government agencies. All this because passport control failed to put an entry stamp in my passport when I arrived yesterday.

This was a problem because without the stamp, it is not possible to register for a tax identification number. Don't get me wrong: I am not anxious for the tax police to know I am here and where I live. But I need the tax number toregister to live here. We were dismayed to learn, after waiting in line for a long time, that they couldn't accept our application without the stamp. For all they knew, I could have snuck across the border through the forest.

So we went back to the airport to resolve the problem. For a long time, we couldn't even find a person to even listen to our story. We asked airport information, who gave us a phone number to call. We did, but there was never an answer. I tried to sneak back through the exit, but I was stopped by customs guards. Nobody would tell us where to go or who we could speak with. At best, we were referred to the phone number that nobody answered or to an office that was closed. But then one official told us that all administrative offices were located on the second floor of the airport, adding that they'd never let us in.

We went up and found an office. The boss wasn't in, but his receptionist turned out to be helpful and kind. She called around, asking who we could talk to.  We found out that the office we needed was in another building, in a compound about 10 minutes by car from the main terminal.

There, we were able to meet the Boss. We weren't allowed inside, but he came out of the gate and spoke with us. I was suprised he bothered, but he did, maybe because our appearance was so unusual. He listened, looked at my documents, and then went back inside. After a while he returned to tell us what to do.

We went back to the airport and called the same mystery phone number we had tried before. This time, someone answered, and he said he had been expecting our call. Shortly afterwards, a man appeared. He took my passport and disappeared. When he came back, my passport had the magic stamp. And I didn't even have to pay a bribe.

I immediately bought chocolate and went back to the girl who had helped us. She beamed when I told her the story had a happy ending. She also liked the chocolate, insisting that it wasn't necessary.

Maybe not, but I had to show my appreciation. Ukraine needs more people like her.

 

20 Sep 2010

Leaving IFC

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I'd like to say that I joined the International Finance Corporation (IFC) in order to fight poverty through private sector development. But that wouldn't be true. I joined IFC because I wanted to move to Ukraine, where I had met a fabulous girl on the Kiev-Odessa train during a holiday. I had no idea that this would be a life-changing event, or that it would make private sector development the focus of my career.

At the time, IFC was looking for a U.S. citizen with business experience who could work in Russian for a USAID-funded project in Sumy, a small, bleak town in north-eastern Ukraine. I fit the bill. But I wasn't too excited about the location: Train Girl lived somewhere in the south of the country, but came to Kiev fairly often. But my initial contract was for only six months, so I figured I could go to Sumy and figure out things from there.

IFC snatched me up and and sent me directly to my post. I did not pass Go. I didn't have an orientation; it wasn't until later that I learned IFC was part of the World Bank Group or that its main business was private sector investment. In those days, the Internet was only just beginning to blossom and in Armenia, where I was living when I was recruited, I didn't have access to it.

My six-month contract stretched to nearly 14 years. I ended up managing the project from Kiev, then opening IFC's first offices in Georgia and Armenia. Then I had a harrowing few years in Moscow and Kiev as we formalized IFC's advisory services operations throughout the former Soviet Union. After that, I had a four-year stint in Washington before going to Aceh, Indonesia, where IFC ran a post-disaster/post-conflict program. And finally, I worked in Mongolia, where we built up our advisory services program to what it is today.

Most of the time I've enjoyed the work. Right now IFC's advisory services are settling into established business lines, but what we were really good at was figuring out how to develop the private sector in remote, frontier places and then designing and launching top-notch programs. And critically, getting donors and other organizations on board. This was especially true in Eastern Europe in the wild 90s, after the collapse of communism there. Many of IFC's global products were developed in the former Soviet Union, such as corporate governance, supply-chain development or business inspections reform. It was a wild, fun ride and I will never regret my part in it.

The end of my IFC career, like the beginning, is intertwined with a Ukrainian woman. I don't mean Train Girl ­­– not long after I relocated to Ukraine she told me she was already married ­­– but my wife, who worked as a policy analyst on my first IFC project in Kiev. After being dragged to Moscow, Washington, Banda Aceh and finally Ulaanbaatar, she wanted to go home. Since Kiev is not a bad place, and because after 14 years a major change in life is a good thing, I agreed.

So today I move to Ukraine, which will be my base for short-term consulting work. It will take a few months to get the family settled, but after that, anything will be possible.

It's a little scary, but also very exciting.

 

19 Sep 2010

Never bring a six-year old to a pet store

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Meeting Max via Skype

Note to parents: a pet store is not a zoo. If you bring a six-year old to one, there is a good chance you're going to leave with a puppy.

This is exactly what happened today with my family in Kiev. At least my wife called to ask if it would be OK. Although I'm not sure getting a dog is the best thing to do when you're unemployed, I thought it might at least distract attention from me and my jobless state. And taking the pup outside for a leak will give me something constructive to do in my free time. Which I will have a lot of.

But there's more to it than that. I believe pets are good for children. And also a useful tool for parents. If you notice your children torturing puppies or kittens, then you'll know they're psychopaths early on, and can take appropriate measures.

Thanks to the pup, who is named Max, my homecoming to Kiev tomorrow will be a lot more interesting than I expected. Just think: me, my wife, two kids, and a dog, all squished into 56 square meters. And I can't figure out why this small mammal has made my wife so happy, so quickly. I was never able to do that.

Maybe someone should make a sitcom about us.

18 Sep 2010

Crossing over

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I spent my final minutes as an employee of the International Finance Corporation sitting outdoors at the Grand Khan Irish Pub, a beer in hand, and in the company of my colleague Tsolmon.

It was a great way to cross over to the other side, to unemployment. I'm not sure if I can still afford to drink beer, though.

Dave Lawrence's Space

I'm a consultant and writer based in Jakarta, where I work for the International Finance Corporation and the World Bank. I love being here and look forward to my family joining me in June.