tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8734023139248672222024-03-05T01:44:19.802-08:00Bridge to AdventureThe connection between the routine and the extremeBridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-40005767836990527832011-10-28T23:38:00.000-07:002011-10-28T23:41:25.032-07:00The classroom of Africa.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has been an embarrassing long time since I blogged but I feel its about time to put some things on paper. On November 16th, I am officially moving from Ghana back to the California with lots of mixed feelings. After 20 months in Africa, it has become home for me – the resilient people, the sounds of bustling streets, the horrible airlines, the spice Ghanaian cuisine, the taxi drivers who have no idea where their going, my small office – all of it. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have been reflecting on my time here trying to capture what I have learned and how I have changed. There is no way I will ever complete an exhaustive but I might as well get started.</span><br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People are not meant to live isolated, individualistic lives with no connection, responsibility or concern for others. I love the community of Africa, the family compounds and the general shock that someone would l try to do it on their own. Here its impossible; I know because I have only survived by my community. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dogs in Africa don’t chase runners but kids do. Dogs here have no territory so have nothing to protect. Children also have no territory and no concern for protection. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Having the power go out every once in a while is actually a great excuse to do the things that matter. Having the water go out is not. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taking the extra minutes to make a human connection with those around you matters a lot. People want to be recognized, humanized, and connected to, even from a strange obruni girl. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bargaining is about understanding the game of perception of willingness to pay and experience. I love bargaining. And yes, that $0.30 extra matters when you’re going to make that transaction daily for 2 years. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Africa is expensive. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Africa is HUGE and incredibly diverse. Takes 8 hours to fly from east to west and 9 from North to South. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each country, region and tribe is unique with its own culture, naming conventions, ceremonies, language and identity. My given names are Ama, meaning born on Saturday (Fanti tribe) and Na Adjeli, meaning second born girl (Ga tribe). I live in a Ga neighborhood that is loud, peaceful, full of goats, kids taxis, street vendors and music. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being a kid in Africa rocks – freedom, family, sun, animals, and room to play.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being a kid in Africa sucks – poor education, dismal maternal health, lack of nutrition and a lower value of human life. Death is just too common. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Water is life. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Putting up street lights is only the first step, then you have to find someone willing to pay for the electricity. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">China is taking over the world and especially Africa. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Trust is the most important and hardest things to earn in Africa. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Business = relationships. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Things are almost never as they appear at first. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Africans are optimistic perhaps to a fault. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Patience. No one else is in a hurry. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everyone was created with the same human potential, I was just born somewhere else to different parents. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anything is possible in Africa, it just takes a persistence and creativity. You can even stop a plane on the tarmac to get on. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What process? </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fear is in the eye of the beholder. People fear what they don’t understand, but a lack of understanding and real danger are different. Besides on dodgy planes, I have very very rarely felt fear. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nigeria is not that bad, in fact it is intoxicating. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No is not an answer, its an excuse. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The propensity to be a good or bad person is the essentially same regardless of economic status. Poverty is not romantic nor does it make you a good person just like wealth does not make you a happy person. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Marriage needs to be about love and faith, not economics. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Money is not the issue. Africa has tons of it. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Americans should stop complaining. At least your taxes go somewhere although in Africa you don't really have to pay them (btw, I do pay my taxes here!).</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All of the accomplishments in the world cannot be compared to positively impacting even one individual. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Compassion is fundamental to relating to others. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God tells us to love our neighbor regardless of race, status, geography or understanding. Its true. </span></li>
</ul><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A piece of my heart will always be here. I am forever changed by Africa. </span><br />
<div><br />
</div></div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-47196536666766430102011-05-20T11:31:00.000-07:002011-05-20T11:31:15.614-07:00A network without connections.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Its been a while since I blogged by I figured its not to late to start a good habit. Per the usual, I have been traveling lots lately. At one point I was in six countries in a week, two of them unplanned but caused by the ingenuity of Africa’s airlines. Now I am back in the US for a few weeks. This trip home I have really been struck by something - </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">How little human interaction an American go through in a day.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> You can check ourselves out at a grocery store, pay for gas, take a flight, do all your shopping online and spend the day isolated by the sounds around you by an ipod or TV. Its crazy. In this world, you really don’t need people. I recently wrote on my facebook pag<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">e "</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In this digital world, people are more "social" but interact less. Have more "friends" but fewer relationships."</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"> </span> Its true and I think a bit sad. We are so connected and yet so disconnected.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In Africa, there is no way you can go an hour with out human interaction. You really need everyone around you. I need the security guard to turn on the generator, friends to know if there is any events or holidays coming up, fruit stand ladies to find fresh basil, guy on the side of the street to make my furniture, an experienced driver to find locations that have no addresses, a friends uncle to find, bargain and install a new wash machine, etc, etc. My phone is full of these phone numbers, people who can help me get things and do things. They are my network, they are my connections.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In the developed worked, your network is digital. It’s often not knowing the right people but the right website or app. I think it has a lot to do with how people access information and what information they trust. There is not much web content in Africa – you can’t find out where to buy anything, the best restaurants, the phone number to a plumber, etc. The internet for local things, is fairly useless. It's getting better but does not compare to your social network (not facebook :) that allows you to survive and get ahead. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Each person around you is useful or maybe useful to you, perhaps not in the moment but you realize, in the future, you will likely need them. You are incentivized to connect, to talk to everyone around you, to get there contact and make sure to stay known. The social barrier to speak to someone you don’t know almost doesn’t exist (exception is among classes). Random people talk to me all the time, often because they want to marry me, but also because I am likely a person that has information or connections that can help them. I can strengthen their network. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I used to feel sort of odd about this - people always wanting to stay connected to me - but not anymore. I was able to stop a plane on the tarmac because of friendly connection with an airport security official, and I got a visa for a friend in Nigeria who had previously been denied 4 times because I knew the consulate general. It's a place of connections. Its my personal network that makes helps me make progress each day. It's a place where where each person must provide value to others to receive in return. I realize, like everyone else in Africa, it’s a world where you need each other, where the social network is not digital and the network not make of cables but people craving information, opportunity and others to help them advance.</span></div><!--EndFragment--> </div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-25884043003913202232011-02-13T11:39:00.000-08:002011-02-13T11:39:02.858-08:00A distrust for Africa.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="p1"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not sure how many of you have checked out my bridgetoadventure blog in the past 2 months and did not find it. Rather, Godaddy.com graced your screen. I received number lots of emails asking why. The best answer is TIA. This is Africa. Seems like an odd response given the website is virtual, but actually, the series of events that led to my blog being taken over, is a great demonstration of why people say TIA and often why is it not Africa's fault. </span></div></div><div class="p2"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="p1"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It all started in some shop in Kenya likely around mid August. I purchased some sandals and running shorts with my credit card. It was the first time I had used my card in a while. No problem with the purchase, but Bank of America saw the transaction as risky. They KNOW I am in Africa but regardless, they froze my card. I called, after much persuasion, they released the hold. A few weeks later, I bought lunch at one of the few hotels that take credit in Ghana. Same story. Card frozen, except rather than freezing, they decided I my card was too risky. Without telling me, they cancelled all my cards with them and issued new cards with a new number. </span></div></div><div class="p2"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="p1"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the coming weeks, I was tipped off that something was up as emails rolled of late charge warnings from all my auto-bill pays. I called the bank who had sent the new cards to my parents who do not open my mail. After explaining for about 20 minutes where Ghana was, they finally agreed to issue new cards, send them to Google and Google would forward them to me, likely arrive in a few weeks. In the mean time, I went online and changed all my auto pays to my debit card. But then, my debit card suspected "suspicious activity" and decided to follow suite from the credit card company. Thus here I was traveling around Africa, stuck without card, or cash in for around a month. This was going to go great. </span></div></div><div class="p2"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="p1"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During this period, my domain purchase came up for yearly renewal - $10. It tried to charge my credit card, which was no longer active. No luck. It sent me a link to enter another card. With some creative practices, I got another card, added it to my account. But then, their payment system noticed my IP address - Nigeria - 'country denied. I tried again the following week in Ghana, same message "sorry, we can not complete your transaction." Awesome. There was an option to use Paypal. So I tried that "sorry, PayPal your account is suspended, please send full verification of identity." </span></div></div><div class="p2"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="p1"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thus, my domain lapsed. Not for lack of effort but because I am in Africa. Often things lapse, or just never happen, not because you aren't capable or don't have the means, but because of where you are - your circumstances. I probably work about four times harder living here than I did in the US to do simple things, and get about a half as much done. Everything takes longer, and unpredicted barriers pop-up in life like pot holes in late at night. And just like hitting a pot hole at 40 miles an hour, it does damage and is expensive. Rather than costing me $10 a year, I now I will have to pay $65 a year for the exact same domain. Imagine I was a business and not just a blogger. I would have lost my website and paid more. </span></div></div><div class="p2"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="p1"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People frequently look at Africa and consider its condition as something created and perpetuated by Africans. And yes, there are lots of examples, especially in leadership (see Ivory Coast), government policy, and import duties. But what people often don't see is that the global systems exclude Africa from accessing much of the infrastructure that enables economic growth. For example, online payments. I await the day I can make an online purchase, watch NetFlix, enjoy Hulu, listen to Pandora or open a merchant account in Ghana to start my own eCommerce business. For now, its simply not possible. Why? because this is Africa and the rest of the world has sent an auto response has been 'your country is unsupported.' </span></div></div></div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-76829021553588079502010-12-16T09:10:00.000-08:002010-12-16T09:10:07.295-08:00Treat others as they treat you.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Note: this is delayed post....you might call delayed reaction ;) </span></i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Per normal when blogging, I am sitting on a plane. But this flight is different. I did not buy a ticket or have any plans of being on it. Even better, I am not sure exactly where it is going or when it will get there. For the first time ever, I have been deported. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Earlier this evening, I arrived in Cameroon set to spend the next few days with some of the largest ISPs (Internet Service Providers), tech hubs and mobile operators. But, it looks like after all, I won't be. Why, you ask? Due to the principle of <i>treat others as they treat you</i>. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I arrived in Cameroon without a visa but with multiple letters supporting my visit and lots of official documentation. The embassy website says if there is no consulate in your country of residence, you can get a visa on arrival. Cameroon has no presence in Ghana. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">To be honest, I am still wondering what happened. I got off the plane, rapidly completed my entry card and headed for to immigration desk, was told to stand aside and then met with a heckle of aggressive female immigration officers. They denied my documents, my kindness, attempts at persuasion, multiple calls to high officials, sly offers of payment and them and finally a few tears. Nothing could change their minds because as they put it, in my country, without a visa, they could not even look out of the window of the plane. This was reciprocity - they were treating me as the US treated them. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Honestly, I am not sure how I feel about it. I strongly agree with the biblical principle to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. But this requires and 'you and me' in the situation rather than an 'us and them.' To these women, I was a them. Despite my attempts at becoming human rather than a object of punishment, I could not. I could not appeal to any commonality or humanity. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Perhaps she was once deported or has a son in the US who can not come home to visit as he is there illegally. I could not deny her claims, if she was missing even the slightest document or stamp, she would be denied access to my country. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We have lots of information and people to process everyday. We naturally stereotype and categorize them to make life easier, and to give ourselves an auto-treat- response to others. I was categorized and treated according as I was not able to break out of the 'us and them' for her.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">But there is a bright side. Once back on the same plane I arrived in, the flight attendance felt compassion for a 'me' and were incredibly kind. The end result, flight went to Point Noir. Not sure where that is. I was not either. I rang the call bell to ask......it was the Congo. you can bet I had no visa there either. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Luckily, the plane was sleeping in Togo and the crew let me stay on. Once on ground around 11 PM, the Senegalese cabin crew, helped me get a visa, drove me to a small hotel, had the airlines pay for it and my breakfast and then arranged to have a driver bring me back today for a flight to Ghana. They did not have to. I could have slept in the airport but luckily for me, they saw a single tired person, not a them worth attacking while weak. They treated me as they hope to be treated. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Sum of story, I was deported to the Congo. 30 hours = Ghana - Togo - Benin - Cameroon - Congo - Togo - Ghana</div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-17805210088699629902010-11-25T05:01:00.000-08:002010-11-25T08:02:36.502-08:00Little lives, Small world.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">'" I'll see you again." Its a phrase I use almost daily. I almost never say good bye, not because I am fearful of saying it but more because chances are, I really will see them again, no matter if I am in Uganda, Zurich, Lagos or Prague. The world is a huge place but people make it feel small. We are always moving, bumping into each other and making connections. The more people you meet, the more connections you create, the tighter, and thus smaller feeling your web gets. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I have had so many small world moments. From a business meeting at a bank in Accra that led to discovering this guy was my Facebook friend, introduced by a mutual friend who knew I was moving to Ghana. To the new friend from Botswana occupying the office is next door who was in the same a Harvard class as my former roommate in San Fran (yeah Nicole!). Not only that, they were super good friends. We called Nicole together and she about had a heart attack. In Nigeria, the minister at the church a few months prior went on the same tour as my parents in Israel and knew them well. And in Israel, I spent two days touring with Kurt Hoyer, who once lived in Kenya. He climbed Kilimanjaro with a friend of mine in Dubai and at his home, he served me Kenya tea given to him by my favorite people in Nairobi. My favorite is when my driver in Senegal was transfered to private security in Ghana. After months of not being in contact, I was about to miss my flight to Liberia and literally bumped into him in the Accra airport. He was able to hold the plane, walked me to my gate, and gave me a hug - 'See you soon.'</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">All these experiences (and many many more), have made me believe that we see the world not by topography or geography but through people, through interactions, through relationships. We, or at least I, get meaning out of my environment from those who are in it, those who I share it with. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Many people have asked me if my current lifestyle is lonely. Understandable question. I am on 1-2 flights a week. But my answer is always 'no.' And I mean it. Yes, I miss my family, road trips with my best friends, long chats with my siblings and of course a traditional Thanksgiving! But in all my travels, I have created connections and built small lives all over the globe. I have a local number for every country, core friends who get texts when I land, a favorite local beer, a familiar run and Googlers who are always happy to see me. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Last night I hosted Thanksgiving dinner for around 30 people, only 3 of them Americans. There were people from over 8 countries many of whom I met for the first time as they walked into my house, others met through random encounters. But needless to say, we were all connected, at least for the a love for food. It was an amazing night due of the relationships created, making the web a little tighter. Its these relationships formed that make Ghana and my $60 turkey feel not far from home.<br />
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Mom, I'll see you soon! </div><br />
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</div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-18580988285855238332010-11-18T01:42:00.000-08:002010-11-18T01:59:41.365-08:00The journey with company.<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Talk about behind, I am 9 countries and a million small adventures away from my last post - from 4x4'ing around the bush of Mozambique on trails they call roads, taking in the serenity of Cape Town, taking the plunge of the world's highest bungee, relaxing on a beach watching whales, and exploring the vibrancy of the mega-city Lagos, Nigeria and hitting the streets of Prague. Much of the above all, experiencing it much of it with lifetime friends. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5xRWzikvhB-zRLzWKZQJveiKJvG77px6uOAveAMZ0zFS92rieCDMRIXR_ZTCYOZj9PRd4gXmMAxiyUC4fvmjOWIPhSwfdR87u2dAhZPh2eps_X1_2cIbVYtwrXgdCNe6RaAAyGd6D61t/s1600/IMG_5716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5xRWzikvhB-zRLzWKZQJveiKJvG77px6uOAveAMZ0zFS92rieCDMRIXR_ZTCYOZj9PRd4gXmMAxiyUC4fvmjOWIPhSwfdR87u2dAhZPh2eps_X1_2cIbVYtwrXgdCNe6RaAAyGd6D61t/s320/IMG_5716.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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Over the past few weeks, I have learned more intimately what I have sacrificed and gained by leaving the US for a nomadic life. Having people around who have known you for longer than a few months or a few days is kinda nice. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS96xlabV4FPtXJ3CbzMpGamY8rkEAmgafaph95NVsEWmk51mN15SbmfebVPQr_M9f4iMkkytRgxuuDdZvAdyvD2yLwEWo8530zKlIFtaj88vMu0uwkO6GHga9-8NfvhfN8SA8NKBa1JXV/s1600/IMG_0576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS96xlabV4FPtXJ3CbzMpGamY8rkEAmgafaph95NVsEWmk51mN15SbmfebVPQr_M9f4iMkkytRgxuuDdZvAdyvD2yLwEWo8530zKlIFtaj88vMu0uwkO6GHga9-8NfvhfN8SA8NKBa1JXV/s320/IMG_0576.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The memories I made with the "american crew" (as the ZA'rs named us) them will be shared in decades to come over a nice glass South African wine, reminding us of our travels. Insted, my norm is a random Nigerian immigration officer who takes my phone number off my entry card and call saying 'I miss you." Miss me how? (True story!) Its not really all that bad. There is a warmth in the hospitality and kindness of Africa and to Googlers. I have met some incredible people consider my colleagues more like family than workmates but you still miss the mean and constructive comments only a best friend can deliver with love. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MFPUc7H6ACZ0Y1q93QehXVi3dM1aMgiYvKZBlE3WDR6Q-dDulwL_5gpS-yTMovOo2dqZhh_YKVNomtL-e6kJuGpWTAY3l08RfqXAQWanDonG-pyoQxM1C-7TXtmK2wjCKdeQOvUqfqJQ/s1600/IMG_0125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MFPUc7H6ACZ0Y1q93QehXVi3dM1aMgiYvKZBlE3WDR6Q-dDulwL_5gpS-yTMovOo2dqZhh_YKVNomtL-e6kJuGpWTAY3l08RfqXAQWanDonG-pyoQxM1C-7TXtmK2wjCKdeQOvUqfqJQ/s200/IMG_0125.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNY2FW8EPyrFP-9R6Gze1D7-7bjOH04ANnGy8xza9u_1Lm7COTc4ygSFJ05bdmayQR9SudkoFpatPzycRe2_8oXe3gCqSQZWgk8LaKvPdwbrNfFZC1SOL9FuAxzvdtZY3-CdeEW-BRv8V/s1600/IMG_0721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNY2FW8EPyrFP-9R6Gze1D7-7bjOH04ANnGy8xza9u_1Lm7COTc4ygSFJ05bdmayQR9SudkoFpatPzycRe2_8oXe3gCqSQZWgk8LaKvPdwbrNfFZC1SOL9FuAxzvdtZY3-CdeEW-BRv8V/s200/IMG_0721.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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South Africa and Mozambique was a reminder of the value of relationships and the growth that only comes with iron sharpening iron. Even better, it was all the the back drop of the beauty of Africa's coast line - bonfire perfection!<br />
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After leaving the rainbow nation, I headed for the first time to Nigeria or as they say 'Naija.' Arriving in Lagos by night fall, gives you an eery feeling. The city of 22 million (same as entire population of Ghana), is sitting in near darkness with only the flicker with small lights until arriving the high-class district of Victoria Island. With no electric grid, generators hum. <br />
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Despite the lack of infrastructure, people are busy about their lives with no excuses. They are hardworking and persistent people who rise around 4 AM and hit the streets working to make a buck and survive in this dog-eat-dog economy. They are optimistic about the future and believe strongly in the power of education to change their lives. They are savvy businessmen, quick to pick things up and are proudly Nigerians. Unlike much of the rest of Africa, in Nigeria, you don't feel the influence of the past colonialists rule. Rather, Nigerians are unapologetically their own. From music to fashion, mastery of hacking, to the drop dead spicy food - they do it their way. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZVBbZFqdoNLLvEiDqhgSERzJr2VlqVYMVmADJMTBfZ_ZMITt2I_RHs8Te6i4CLAgEoKcLHCMGT0r7ATgyxpV9FPsudY9HFInNs0T14l6tTjLmgg752_9nsiBaQqFPzaLLwyxbhYqRb_no/s1600/DSCN1032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZVBbZFqdoNLLvEiDqhgSERzJr2VlqVYMVmADJMTBfZ_ZMITt2I_RHs8Te6i4CLAgEoKcLHCMGT0r7ATgyxpV9FPsudY9HFInNs0T14l6tTjLmgg752_9nsiBaQqFPzaLLwyxbhYqRb_no/s200/DSCN1032.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOD0WftSVYI8Cy3hoYQbRheDRbeOmSOLpkYcsJS3pwZ-MnsxoiJYY7Yp-NOaQjW1qvIBK3C81eNd0z2n3mX6-YVXVmSPCCwctlWVgMFDRIQjjeBVFs2TTpkD81ckflJQcwSqfM063LXAZI/s1600/DSCN1030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOD0WftSVYI8Cy3hoYQbRheDRbeOmSOLpkYcsJS3pwZ-MnsxoiJYY7Yp-NOaQjW1qvIBK3C81eNd0z2n3mX6-YVXVmSPCCwctlWVgMFDRIQjjeBVFs2TTpkD81ckflJQcwSqfM063LXAZI/s200/DSCN1030.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
<br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">While in Nigeria, I met with some interesting start ups, met with a bunch of techies and then headed off the island for the weekend to spend the weekend with a family from church - the famous Akinbo's. There are no words adequate to describe their unmatched warmth and dedication. Their chatty and bouncing children entertained. Dare and I explored new technologies and ideas for his business and his wife, sisters and I share great convo and attempted to reeducate me on cooking. I have happily been back to Nigeria and their place since. The Akinbo's will always be another home for me in Africa, friends for a life time.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">From Nigeria, I returned to Ghana after almost 4 months of being absent. It was more than nice to come land in this familiar place. Still missing my American Crew, my Nigerian family, but excited to return to what will always be my first home in Africa - Ghana. </span></span>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-51810969205765938672010-09-14T22:00:00.000-07:002010-09-14T22:00:17.377-07:00Burst your bubble and go for it.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The last two weeks I spent putting on two sizable Google tech events in Uganda and Kenya. I met and reconnected with hundreds of techies from computer science students to millionaire entrepreneurs. The present and future success of tech in East Africa filled each room. Every day ended with a panel of both young and seasoned start ups serving as the vision, experience and advisors to an audience aspiring to follow their footsteps. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">These panel discussions got me thinking. What is the difference between those who actually take the leap verse those who only aspire or perhaps don't even dare to aspire. Although not a comprehensive list, I have a few ideas.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnI1Ywte6uG8JtqaHxMbGeAYjJpaKJi79IDlEO4f_MG2kpKuEOzKA8gea6m5PiNZb5OPYFC135dFwqFsXgIPbehsidJJfvUnPQOxwa68mI15LuHzaJnfmSywaDzPnLEzKJl0a1c-LHpCjx/s1600/DSCN0805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnI1Ywte6uG8JtqaHxMbGeAYjJpaKJi79IDlEO4f_MG2kpKuEOzKA8gea6m5PiNZb5OPYFC135dFwqFsXgIPbehsidJJfvUnPQOxwa68mI15LuHzaJnfmSywaDzPnLEzKJl0a1c-LHpCjx/s320/DSCN0805.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panel for developers and entrepreneurs</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">First, we can't choose the family we are born into. At birth, there is no difference between those on the stage and those in the seats. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Family also largely determines the second - capacity for risk. Not everyone has even has the chance to consider risk. In Africa for example, making it to university requires typically requires enormous sacrifice from families. Not just the cost of the tuition of uni but also the previous years as secondary school costs parents out of pocket as well. If you are luckily enough to make it through college, your family expects you to start repaying and supporting them and your other siblings. Get a job at a bank or with the government and never turn back. Put your head down, work hard and ignore any inclination of stepping out of the norm. Don't think about the other possibilities. You literally can't afford it. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Risks is innately tied with fear. Fear of failure, fear of letting others down, and fear there is nothing to catch you if you fall. There is a very limited safety net, if one at all for the typical African. Families are strong, committed to one another but have very limited resources. You, as an educated student are their safety net, their insurance. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">This brings me back to those panelists and my own story. Most of the panelists came from at least middle income families. They had a bit of a cushion and an appetite for risk they chose to feed. Likely contrary to the advice of their families and friends, they went for it. They were well educated, well spoken and perhaps most importantly, well traveled. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAU6w_djskngJ39rXDMR7Ywl8jce_5A0K4_C95hR2EuUbz7OUhE4dYM34j6NFK6WAe71qWTOjKjyiYC5HyD-M6CiXlO4_zP8wnFf5AyeKXw9cHmp4gVtkWl4jb2JkvdURzVoSJ89tdkax/s1600/DSCN0334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAU6w_djskngJ39rXDMR7Ywl8jce_5A0K4_C95hR2EuUbz7OUhE4dYM34j6NFK6WAe71qWTOjKjyiYC5HyD-M6CiXlO4_zP8wnFf5AyeKXw9cHmp4gVtkWl4jb2JkvdURzVoSJ89tdkax/s320/DSCN0334.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making goodies with friends in Kenya</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Why do I say traveled? Well, a friend of mine and I observed that whether you live in Africa, the US, Asia or the UK, we all grow up in a bubble. That bubble is meant to be secure and reassuring that if you follow the foot steps of those around you, you will have at least as good a life as them. Its not innately a bad thing. But the downside of this bubble is that is also limits the scope of your horizons. What you believe is possible for yourself is significantly determined the radius of that sphere and what is encompasses. In Africa, that results in lots of farmers, bankers, security workers, and government employees - this is actually the same in the US.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">For myself, growing up in a small towns in a high school where my career counselor got her degree online, most of my male friends went to drink themselves ill in the military, and about 5 percent of my graduating class went to university, the stats would say, I would end up the same. What changed for me? First, I was blessed, born into the right family. Unlike many in my town and in Africa, my parents and sister pushed me think bigger, to see and change the world. How did they know about the possibilities out there? Travel. How did I learn? Travel. Interacting with people who had done it, seeing a path outside my bubble. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIq-NgzYcZHvHmO_1Dw57zobWqMgnW2r2PvEU7Co6s8QPTT5sw42yrcMnuXGSES6D-CXNhIuF1crqZEZhktMljweOELmX5cQdAPvKdN6n7iTmVoFEDmjzGP4lnqcC6L8U8scuUhaTfIASe/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIq-NgzYcZHvHmO_1Dw57zobWqMgnW2r2PvEU7Co6s8QPTT5sw42yrcMnuXGSES6D-CXNhIuF1crqZEZhktMljweOELmX5cQdAPvKdN6n7iTmVoFEDmjzGP4lnqcC6L8U8scuUhaTfIASe/s320/Picture+4.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young, naive traveler. I am still her :)</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">When I was 19, I met the first person I ever knew to go to Harvard, Doug. I was amazed to know and be friends with a real life Harvard grad. For him, it seemed the option to do anything was right at his finger tips. He told me of his adventures in Russia, Asia, Latin America. I wanted to know how he got the there. He just did it. For the last five years, he has pushed me and had no doubt I can do the same despite my own disbelief. Likewise, my sister pushed herself and in turn me, to fear but do it anyways. I now think that almost anything is possible. Not just for me but for anyone. I have now come to realize, that this mind set is a bit of a self fulfilling prophesy. For those who think, nothing is possible, it isn't. Its a mental block and perhaps a form of myopathy. Sadly, in Africa, this mental block is heavy and bubble narrow. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">So, why do some people end up on the high road to Harvard, or in investment banking or doctors? For most, unlike here, that option lived inside their bubble. Why do many people spend their life in a job they hate? That option was also readily available, a default in their surroundings. Why do entrepreneurs rise from what appears to be poverty? Why I live in Africa? We were challenged and inspired to venture outside, and take a risk. My fist move to out of country to Nicaragua, I was scared and cried almost the whole way on the plane. Its not a lack of fear, its just getting on the plane anyways. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCh1Am-4iec6FgZyUH1b7QoB2kxFiWA60f0aJf1K3qpS6KmIhJP427StMRVdME4n-RYyJzzaQWjONXtDVEELgEwkWUd2R5lhH5TIuKM8y7i63aTy5rHVQ8rn_u8QzB8lxCWCBQR4mM28q/s1600/Picture+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCh1Am-4iec6FgZyUH1b7QoB2kxFiWA60f0aJf1K3qpS6KmIhJP427StMRVdME4n-RYyJzzaQWjONXtDVEELgEwkWUd2R5lhH5TIuKM8y7i63aTy5rHVQ8rn_u8QzB8lxCWCBQR4mM28q/s320/Picture+6.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first home in Nicaragua. Good reason to cry. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I am the first to admit that the option to take that first step, its not all or even mostly self determination. I have a great family, strong faith, and have had ample blessings along the way. But when given the option to jump, I fortunately was pushed to swallowed my fear and take a running start. Today, I am now blessed to be living a life beyond my wildest expectations. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">If you choose to take the leap, its not assured you won't fail, but is assured that if you make it out of your bubble, the potential on the other side will open a whole world of possibilities. Go for it! </div><div><br />
</div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-31747951097462279852010-09-10T11:28:00.000-07:002010-09-11T11:28:58.006-07:00Its rough but memorable road.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">While admittedly, my life is charmed - I get paid to fly around and make things happen - but in Africa, the travel itself is far from glamorous. Once I reach my destination, I love it. But until then, it is a test of will, attitude and patience. First of all Africa is enormous. Secondly, flights happen infrequently when they do take off and I am often forced onto less than reputable establishments like Arik, Eagle AIr Nigeria, and Air Uganda. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AqwmVAiEFH5ZLzpiKZp6BgWDuRcFeg5YY8K-wRwUGiyfn0il7LWF9uZ24GinagSYJnzMNt62_5Z-XjABnn2DZ2z35eSOEfSnKVHgUR3YPSKL70IsOzJXo_cyL0ti6k-bOJHoPiNVjlph/s1600/Picture+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AqwmVAiEFH5ZLzpiKZp6BgWDuRcFeg5YY8K-wRwUGiyfn0il7LWF9uZ24GinagSYJnzMNt62_5Z-XjABnn2DZ2z35eSOEfSnKVHgUR3YPSKL70IsOzJXo_cyL0ti6k-bOJHoPiNVjlph/s200/Picture+7.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liberian Flag. Familiar? </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Two weeks ago, I traveled from Cape Town to Liberia via Nairobi, about 3000 miles out of the way. In the middle of this four leg journey, one plane was missing. My connection was not there to Accra, Ghana. Luckily, in a few hours it made an appearance and in a stroke of luck, my final flight from Accra to Monrovia was delayed by five hours, thus I would make the last connection. </div> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeqIA4yYqBWcc8mDEyTgClLWj9AxHAkikS5fVnbiqc9awet-X36hrFXXGDcF6BSxlefoScZMFupFJnRIomhgAYfekY3y4p_fwaxr9UtSPm-ge8RSUUFe3fqFU1_7MfW9GgqIgm66Dg1zV/s1600/DSCN0571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeqIA4yYqBWcc8mDEyTgClLWj9AxHAkikS5fVnbiqc9awet-X36hrFXXGDcF6BSxlefoScZMFupFJnRIomhgAYfekY3y4p_fwaxr9UtSPm-ge8RSUUFe3fqFU1_7MfW9GgqIgm66Dg1zV/s320/DSCN0571.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mayor of Monrovia (lady right) and our team! </td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My thoughts, perfect! I can run home in Accra, a place I have not been in 2 months, shower from 24 hours of traveling, re-pack clean clothes and be back on a plane. This plan was going amazingly until I got back to the Accra airport to check in. When I got there, no Ethiopian Airlines flight to Liberia could be found. I ran around, called my travel agent, called Ethiopian, and asked the 'not-so-helfpul desk. Finally, I was told the flight was still there, but even if the flight time is delayed, they still only open the check in counter when the flight WOULD have check in. Meaning, I was missing the flight even though it was still there on the tarmac un-boarded. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Streets of Monrovia, Liberia </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">One good thing about Africa is that even if everyone says<i> it's not possible</i>, <b>it is</b>. While rushing around the airport, I randomly ran into a friend I met in Senegal, named Cheick, who now runs United Airlines security at the airport. He gave me some guys number to call and called some friends himself. Eventually, I was on the phone with a guy on the tarmac demanding to be let on the flight. After some sharp words and a hefty phone bill later, I was issued a fake ticket by another airline to get through immigration. When I reached the boarding gate, the passengers for my flight were still waiting and ten flight attendances who were sitting around asked 'Where were you, we have been looking for you." Obvisouly they weren't looking hard. But regardless, you can bet that tarmac guy's number is stored in my phone.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASTRie9mdmFx8Htmc9oJcu-HByY2G899sJGzuRHJHQteD5jEYsi6RXHeV98Mrpc0fAICYVXMHqw1YL-Ye7H47zY93iGO_ByyK3teaz1fR_UxWEIye9jFr-njmZ0kWpjcEeF28fUtkmDn-/s1600/DSCN0605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASTRie9mdmFx8Htmc9oJcu-HByY2G899sJGzuRHJHQteD5jEYsi6RXHeV98Mrpc0fAICYVXMHqw1YL-Ye7H47zY93iGO_ByyK3teaz1fR_UxWEIye9jFr-njmZ0kWpjcEeF28fUtkmDn-/s320/DSCN0605.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris and our Google security</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Finally, Liberia. What a fascinating place. Poorest I have seen in Africa, war torn and oddly American, but I loved it. I was in Liberia to organize and speak at tech training in a country with no electric power supply aside from generators, only satellite internet and not one university computer science department. This was a Google.org project and needless to say, I was a bit of a skeptic. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">While all the lack of infrastructure can't be ignored and undoubtably a huge barrier to such an impoverished country, if it is the people who determine the potential of a country, Liberia will be alright. Liberians are still quite guarded and don't smile first but they have an unmatched hunger to learn and an entrepreneurial spirit. I met a about 10 guys who were completely self taught programmers, one of who at age 22, is starting an educational TV show to teach computer literacy. This same kid also works late at night when the internet connection is not so crowded to download university course lectures from Stanford and MIT, burns them on DVD and hands them out. It is people like him who remind me of the potential of one person to have an impact, to make change. Lucky for Liberia, they have more than one. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_RcbeG7Go7IYaon1XdRxHkP6s42lbNvlcyZQGGJnS6UKsoA4Zh6tGrA50toSoB-3JJzyP3QLwkjNzuOUGciP4rK9DSMwfHCNmFGi6GezKhVqn9J-k-H7acF_rWaGTbPjNj5QtcSIC_7X/s1600/DSCN0667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_RcbeG7Go7IYaon1XdRxHkP6s42lbNvlcyZQGGJnS6UKsoA4Zh6tGrA50toSoB-3JJzyP3QLwkjNzuOUGciP4rK9DSMwfHCNmFGi6GezKhVqn9J-k-H7acF_rWaGTbPjNj5QtcSIC_7X/s320/DSCN0667.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">A few other things of note, met the mayer of Monrovia who reminded me of a fired up talk show host, listened to some great live reggae and enjoyed a series of Liberian down pours. My one day out of work, was spent with a colleague Chris roaming around the streets and markets of Monrovia in the pouring rain. The colors and atmosphere were amazing. We watched as people came to gather their water from the central well, sold used and likely donated clothes, cars and bikes tried to navigate the flooded hazardous roads, young kids showered naked in the rain, and generally Liberians going about their business in a partially destroyed city. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi05TJ4MLv9d0oe3k3OUfstWHLEpNYEtzZSYC86BJBCPbt17WZcvphnUZtqdiBz1Q3ckHTBqkUsFzBr0dwUUqZ-t8gNBYyl4L9nmY7MUgL7aHKrW_SODIYTFwQTIL4MUyFaCqimx6I_Ddvg/s1600/DSCN0644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi05TJ4MLv9d0oe3k3OUfstWHLEpNYEtzZSYC86BJBCPbt17WZcvphnUZtqdiBz1Q3ckHTBqkUsFzBr0dwUUqZ-t8gNBYyl4L9nmY7MUgL7aHKrW_SODIYTFwQTIL4MUyFaCqimx6I_Ddvg/s320/DSCN0644.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dancing for the butter. </td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">At one point, I was pulled from the crowd to danced in the with a musical group promoting Vita Butter. Pretty hilarious (Chris, keep you videos to yourself :). Then Chris signed us up to eat some incredibly suspicious food that made haste in our systems. All together, we did our best to absorb a place that to the Western eye, seems chaotic and run down, but for someone who lives there, it is mundane daily life. For me, nothing about Liberia was mundane. I quite liked it. More pics </div><div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-79534017598629091922010-08-29T01:11:00.000-07:002010-08-29T08:25:36.234-07:00A bit of self definition.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">In the past few weeks, I have had a bit of a a two pronged identity crisis. First, I feel I am no longer my own but have become the embodiment of my work. When people quote me, they say " Google says." For those of you who know me well, this probably not the best idea. I am quite outspoken and have an underdeveloped verbal filter....if one at all. What I say has become the word of Google. I now find myself using all sorts of qualifiers including 'this is Bridgette talking,' 'off the record,' and 'in my personal opinion." There is a Proverb " he who holds his tongue is wise (10:19)." Wise I must become :)</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The second portion of my identity question mark comes primarily from my clear status as a foreigner. Sometimes I ask myself 'Why can't I be African?' When you read this question, your first thought is likely, "You are white," or "you were born in the US." But skin color does not prevent you from being a citizen where I come from. I now realize the standout foreigner status has actually been the case in Thailand, Nicaragua, Peru and in the Middle East. The more I travel, the more I understand, where come from is not the rule but the exception.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiGQjx7ABtPaRxVoO108Roe_j2l1a8jpFRK8tUt9gVV7KMpYiBvo-a__nBhd94JYTRgyUPc_8NG88-EucXdYvjg8ARABv14BZNW75lOnwyVbeNgZobOwLxYWy5lv01XDVfp4OnEEJPyyL/s1600/DSCN0528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiGQjx7ABtPaRxVoO108Roe_j2l1a8jpFRK8tUt9gVV7KMpYiBvo-a__nBhd94JYTRgyUPc_8NG88-EucXdYvjg8ARABv14BZNW75lOnwyVbeNgZobOwLxYWy5lv01XDVfp4OnEEJPyyL/s320/DSCN0528.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proves nothing has changed. Looking for my keys. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9yrzWi6oNPPmTanDgEDqB35N9uPqnpeJQeXleSSNHUm6xaKRHex59JBzU0jACMlFfLU0Z4FKvRLS9JdsHfIy6tmgxQjByf33GuszHVk7MsW5A0nMvmYULTqkdzKG9DX7VNVJThFwtQjt/s1600/DSCN0650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj9yrzWi6oNPPmTanDgEDqB35N9uPqnpeJQeXleSSNHUm6xaKRHex59JBzU0jACMlFfLU0Z4FKvRLS9JdsHfIy6tmgxQjByf33GuszHVk7MsW5A0nMvmYULTqkdzKG9DX7VNVJThFwtQjt/s320/DSCN0650.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Attempting a radome athletic competition.</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Before moving to Africa, I lived in San Francisco. If I was asked to describe someone from San Francisco, I would have an incredibly hard time doing it - perhaps hipster in tight jeans who hates plastic bags, mass media and oil companies. But this is not physically descriptive. (Patriotic moment coming). Where I come from, you are free to be of any ethnic or social origin and be American. Your skin color or hue does not give away much about you. I would say your dress is more determinative than any innate feature. In Sub Saharan Africa and in most of the world, I am by default an outlier. In Africa, the next steps in the thought series is that I was sent by an NGO, Embassy or am a missionary, likely making bank and working to impose my solutions and take your problems from you. The assumption would not be there I am here to do businesses as I am. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The combination of tags above combine to label me as a <i>foreigner Googler working to improve Africa</i>. While this appears semi-correct on the surface,<b> it is not.</b> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">In my hierarchy of self determination, I am first a <b>Christian</b>, second a <b>Sexton</b>, third a <b>friend</b>, fourth a <b>global citizen</b>, and fifth a slightly<b> fearless explorer</b>. It is the combination of these factors that have enabled me to be <i>Bridgette, who works at Google in Afric</i>a, not the other way around. This I am certain of. For this I am grateful. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Thanks Mom and Dad :) </div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-82527788289119847182010-08-27T23:11:00.000-07:002010-08-27T23:11:35.378-07:00An Africa Facing South.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;">I am going to write this as a two perspective blog. One is on the plane as I fly to South Africa and one will be post visit. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b>Part 1: </b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I am curious about this place. It is the most mixed reviewed country I have encountered in candid discussion. People often stay 'it is gorgeous, a different world, not the Africa you know." This is coupled with 'what you see, unless you try, is not the full reality. You must really try to see the other side. " I feel a bit like a trader going there oddly as my 'home' is the rest of Africa. Mostly, I feel I am hitting shaky ground, unsure of the underline meaning of my actions in a place that is not straight forward and has such a divisive history. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b>Part 2:</b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">This what you call a delayed reaction. It has been almost two weeks since I left the Rainbow Nation. I spent the first four days on Jo'burg at tech conferences. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting with and exploring the tech community but to my surprise, these Africa themed events were not the Africa I have been involved with. It was...well...almost all white. I knew almost all 'Africans' and sadly I was more acquainted with Africa as whole than the vast majority of South Africans, many of who had never explored their continent outside their country. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">South Africa is undoubtably more advanced in many ways visible ways that the rest of Africa. But that said, much of the rest of Africa has advancing as well. It seemed SA is on the edge of exclusive and quite myopic, not considering the rest of Africa. They don't know that Its not just shanty towns or charity case. Kenya, Senegal and Uganda have better internet connections and more advanced mobile markets than South Africa. <a href="http://www.google.com/search?sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8&q=nigeria+internet+users"><span style="color: #0000fb; text-decoration: underline;">Nigeria has 572 %</span></a> more internet users despite relying almost entirely on generators for electricity. South Africa is ideally positioned to take advantage of the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/24/world/africa/24africa.html"><span style="color: #0000fb; text-decoration: underline;">maturing lions</span></a> to the north. It will be to their loss if they don't look north. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvcBO3fBhdsOzP9nZEj7-H7XB_pe3ZilgH9bBma7GqM2TCshleEb6tFRXtQbsHPotwRra1Xs2vH0dM1hnmOghQ_-7H69M6BEGJysAwV39VpO4SVGrpVep3PRFvzaYMZh4t0gNDYaYjGG2-/s1600/DSCN0517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvcBO3fBhdsOzP9nZEj7-H7XB_pe3ZilgH9bBma7GqM2TCshleEb6tFRXtQbsHPotwRra1Xs2vH0dM1hnmOghQ_-7H69M6BEGJysAwV39VpO4SVGrpVep3PRFvzaYMZh4t0gNDYaYjGG2-/s320/DSCN0517.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look a bit like Bishops Peak? </td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">All ranting aside, I throughly enjoyed the people I met and had an incredible time drinking cappuccinos, sipping wine, being cold, getting a bit of exposure to Cape Town night life (thanks Devin) and running along the coast. There were a few definite surprises including Monte Casino in Jo'berg and the entire city of Cape Town. It looks strikingly similar to my college town, San Luis Obispo. Don't worry my California peeps, I still like you better...although there was some pretty amazing sushi and dancing to be had. </div><div><br />
</div></span>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-74344104256971649002010-08-19T06:44:00.000-07:002010-08-19T07:08:27.383-07:00Bridge to LiberiaI am in liberia writing this blog live in front of an audience of here for a tech training from Google. Blogging is easy. Have a voice, do say something because you can. This is a way to tell the world something from you, to a be a news source and to provide a perspective only you can have.<br />
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Bloggers of Liberia, see you soon!Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-85905231964630429072010-08-13T10:15:00.000-07:002010-08-13T10:15:33.581-07:00Out of Office...Into the Wild.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">I have been working..let's just say, a lot. Luckily, I love my job but it most often captures the day and leaves the night for digital catch up, a nap and typically packing. Not your or my idea of an exciting narration of life in Africa. So the past few weekends I have abandoned the web for the wild. Here are a few escapades.</span><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b>Riding to Egypt: </b><br />
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</b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Heading out of Uganda's capital city Kampala, the populated hills quickly become lush tea plantations, subsistence farms and then jungle. My coworker and I took this stunning drive to spend a day hiking and getting some peace in the lush Rain Forest Lodge. We watched monkeys searching for fruit in the tall trees and listen to birds competing for airwaves. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The next morning, we traveled further East to Jinga. On the edge of town, the massive waters of Lake Victoria escape from the northern tip to start a 6,650 kilometer journey to the Mediterranean Sea. The incredible flow creates a series of class 5 to 6 rapids serving as hub for adventure junkies. They are among the top three ranked commercially rafted rapid in the worlds. Needless to say, breathtaking - both from the scenery and from being ejected from the boat on engulfed with monsoon of thrashing water. By far the best and most ridiculous ride in a large dingy. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixRhaMn_hXTNlQk1sR3lvSp0P9JVOapEJMhtYjP6fSSzwqyFiutUcMJNFmLEuAcUuffd6w92la0mVP0AuS6nVyllM5SnofPgJooxh6cCTosPvJio5pq7aczwNDrStmtcQPDLZy9AeHxOf/s1600/blog4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixRhaMn_hXTNlQk1sR3lvSp0P9JVOapEJMhtYjP6fSSzwqyFiutUcMJNFmLEuAcUuffd6w92la0mVP0AuS6nVyllM5SnofPgJooxh6cCTosPvJio5pq7aczwNDrStmtcQPDLZy9AeHxOf/s320/blog4.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b>4 by 4 by 4 in Kenya:</b><br />
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</b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Last weekends journey began in Nairobi. I rented a 4x4 and three of my friends from church and I headed out of the city to their parents and grandparents village located in the Great Rift Valley near Nakuru. After a three hour drive, we were welcomed into their grandmothers old, well occupied in home - by her, a number of animals and lots of guests. The farm was stunning. In their tribe (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kikuyu_people">Kikuyo</a>), sons inherit the fathers land, each building a home on it. For this reason, I was able to meet a large extended family, see their herd of goats, extensive garden, primitive kitchen, and get attacked by safari ants.<br />
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Then we traveled to their parents home, cooked dinner, shared stories and headed off to bed to get up at 5:30 AM in time to beat the rise of the animals and the sun in Nakuru National Park. This is where the 4x4 really came in handy. I took the wheel to practice staying left and also charging through ENORMOUS puddles to find the massive beasts. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span id="goog_1333316268"></span><span id="goog_1333316269"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfzvIy5vNbG9RaBYaHkjkBbgM1wgKa97IKSy-VM_g-akFY7j4ZI-F4cXcfT52HNPo7P0OuXGnE5uwdWQkZ5iSeBp8H6NmxucYFtHpRZQrNdTtwERhgxW6tnuJay59OFLbHaAzd1T3A0so/s1600/DSCN0313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfzvIy5vNbG9RaBYaHkjkBbgM1wgKa97IKSy-VM_g-akFY7j4ZI-F4cXcfT52HNPo7P0OuXGnE5uwdWQkZ5iSeBp8H6NmxucYFtHpRZQrNdTtwERhgxW6tnuJay59OFLbHaAzd1T3A0so/s320/DSCN0313.JPG" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We saw a myriad of animals including water buffalo, giraffe, baboons, rhinos, hippos, hyenas, antelope, flamingos, monkeys and a million birds. Most memorably, we got chased and nearly attacked by a baboon... twice, nearly drove into a river, sat to observe young hyena cubs in their den, challenged a water buffalo with a Rav 4 and nearly got stuck at least a dozen times. This is my second safari and I must say, behind the wheel, is where the real adventure happens. ...just ask my passengers :)<br />
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Since then, I have been working mostly except randomly last weekend, I ended up at a free jazz concert and unknowingly met a bunch of Kenyan celebs. Rappers are exactly what you think they are...except shorter :)<br />
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Now I am in South Africa but more to come on that later. Here are <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/bridgettesexton/KenyaJuly2010?authkey=Gv1sRgCIGO6J7VqbjLrwE&feat=directlink">lots more picks</a>.<br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8U167nxIxRyqsVildsFh1_sPm2jNGtKPFGMjCfs5CylJNsdAHa5Apy6ig9jggE7qT2OiJyxJPbbxdE1hxJ6Ioo44wxqzJvXm1oiFeISNIDk3UStWGNPrAhKCKdkGXLdOrccWuApHWM7Ml/s1600/DSCN0487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8U167nxIxRyqsVildsFh1_sPm2jNGtKPFGMjCfs5CylJNsdAHa5Apy6ig9jggE7qT2OiJyxJPbbxdE1hxJ6Ioo44wxqzJvXm1oiFeISNIDk3UStWGNPrAhKCKdkGXLdOrccWuApHWM7Ml/s320/DSCN0487.JPG" /></a></div></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;">Just in case you are curious, here are a few of the infamous Kenyan musicians. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69s6_o2zzT0&feature=related">Eric Wainaina</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxem1HM43ak">Collo</a>, and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mG1vIeETHc">Makemende,</a> who was the first viral YouTube video star in Kenya. </span></span></div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-11183673218505404452010-08-02T11:33:00.000-07:002010-08-02T11:44:11.178-07:00A "Real" Africa Perspective.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><div>There are a few things that bother me about how people reference Africa. The way the media, especially, BBC World goes out of its way to hunt down the five tribesmen in a modern city in Mombasa, Kenya to do a report on technology. I often hear people say when they see a nice house, a mall or a great city skyline “this isn’t REAL Africa.” Yes, it may not fit your image of Africa and it is in no way the majority, but is it Africa and in many places, there is progress that should be acknowledged. </div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1pTWHgz1O7JqRHemokJaiogd_6OFQehqklUkmQhXX_07mAMUUsZghQ5Ra3r37oA-CvOvcgtuh3OkkSt8PtEMfIalgNRhIlkS3r3bR0Mbd-aXr74g86dM1Hwz5f-_k_ejMI4MTjFgrGP0/s1600/nairobisunset.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1pTWHgz1O7JqRHemokJaiogd_6OFQehqklUkmQhXX_07mAMUUsZghQ5Ra3r37oA-CvOvcgtuh3OkkSt8PtEMfIalgNRhIlkS3r3bR0Mbd-aXr74g86dM1Hwz5f-_k_ejMI4MTjFgrGP0/s400/nairobisunset.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nairobi Skyline from Google Office.</td></tr>
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</div><div>The image of poverty sells and people, NGOs and governments who profit from it, perpetuate pictures. Yes, absolutely there is poverty, disease, poor infrastructure, corruption. Liberia has absolutely no electric grid, the city hums with generators. Nigeria has a province declared a <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-10710488">war zone due to oil disputes</a>. The <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rep-howard-l-berman/why-we-should-care-about_b_657820.html">DRC</a> has the highest rate of rape victim in the world. But these are the stories you already hear. There is another perspective. Africa is full of entrepreneurs, and able-bodied people, with good minds, working hard and being incredibly scrappy with the resources they have. </div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVOe5nilboFUa5WMB-rBPGwuWNzPtwu5opQrjd_N8RBbvZAoWTmBVJYBUh2SguG27W1H2jkXLg40dVauQ2tjbt-pZThjkI-b2PRhfamq9VbCA6MCpmUhRkI3JHngwOWXJSCLPHQ-xS1JS/s1600/computerlab.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVOe5nilboFUa5WMB-rBPGwuWNzPtwu5opQrjd_N8RBbvZAoWTmBVJYBUh2SguG27W1H2jkXLg40dVauQ2tjbt-pZThjkI-b2PRhfamq9VbCA6MCpmUhRkI3JHngwOWXJSCLPHQ-xS1JS/s320/computerlab.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1 of 7 huge computer labs at university in Kampala</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>One of my <a href="http://www.africagathering.org/nyimbiodero.php">Nigerian co-workers </a>has a theory – across the globe, the percentage of geniuses fairly consistent across populations. Given the high rate of natural selection in Nigeria and the population of 150 million, there must be a significantly higher rate of Einsteins roaming the streets of Lagos. This just might be the case (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9BQitPzRiM">Welcome to Lagos</a>). </div><div><br />
</div><div>Working in tech, I admittedly have a skewed perspective. I meet the some of the brightest geeks in Africa including the likes of <a href="http://downloads.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/worldservice/bizdaily/bizdaily_20100729-1100a.mp3">Jojo</a>, <a href="http://whiteafrican.com/2010/05/14/a-rising-tide-africas-tech-entrepreneurs/">Fritz</a>, <a href="http://www.ushahidi.com/">Ushihidi</a>, <a href="http://www.mobilitynigeria.com/2010/05/03/encipher-unveils-android-based-tablet/">Encipher</a>. They are making strides and overcoming barriers western techies would never encounter. They are working hard to develop modern technologies often in what a westerner might consider primitive conditions. But, they see potential in an emerging market with rising consumer demand. You see only the dusty dirt roads, mud huts and Maasai warriors, not a place worth building technologies for. </div><div><br />
</div><div>These guys, along with many African's, have changed my picture of Africa. No doubt, life here is more difficult and opportunities harder to come by. But this group of self-starters, visionaries and dare I say, geniuses are making it in a very "real" Africa. </div></span></span> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-8223680547269149712010-07-30T13:22:00.000-07:002010-07-30T13:26:10.452-07:00Sometimes I just smile and say "TIA"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Things don’t always operate in Africa as my western mind would expected. I am constantly surprised by amazing and ridiculous things. Sometimes they are great surprises, like finding that a University of Nairobi's choir practices on the bleachers next to the dirt track where I often run. Sometimes its just mind blowing, like seeing guys carrying 80+ water cans on a single motorbike. Sometimes it is just unbelievable. Often I find myself muttering the commonly used phrase “TIA," which stands for, “This is Africa.”</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg22N132_dpleZnShT5kZUIprsX948F3gv39L7EsaIclvejuMXAsx6_tOp6SyVEgg8ecQ3SutjY-9Oh5uvhilomGxQoopZZN0BM4KZ_T5-aE9-xQGoIKMAeERkmcNBVJvxyWGRd3ZWwoD_J/s320/bikecarrydoor.JPG" /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wikipedia defines “TIA” as meaning go with the flow/don't expect anything to run on schedule/enjoy life. I define TIA everyday. Here are a few recent definitions. </span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yep, my flight stopped in three countries not listed on the itinerary. Pretty sure I spent at least 2 hours in Mali. </span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I left my office in Nairobi for a meeting, an hour later, I could still see it as I sat in the parking lot called a road.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From my car window in Accra, I can buy anything from baby shoes to a mounted six foot poster of Jesus.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We spent nearly an entire day looking for a staple gun in well stocked stores in Nairobi. Five stores later we found one, but they did not have staples that fit it. Back to the previous four.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Public transit does not stop, you just get out.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No, we don’t take our local currency to pay for your visa into Kenya, you need to go exchange it for US dollars and come back to stand in ocean deep line.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why yes, this was the chicken that was just running around.”</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The potholes are so enormous and frequent in Uganda, the locals have a saying that, “You can tell a drunk driver here, because they drive straight.”</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Taxi driver to me: “I have always wanted to go to the US. Are you married? “ Total number of proposals: 68. Most recent: This morning.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Me: ‘How much for these sandals??” Shop owner: “For you, I give a very nice price. My best price. (pause as he takes stalk ) $50......actual price $2.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You want to rent the City Hall Monrovia, Libera, no problem, $1500 a day. The cost includes the room. If you want power, that is an additional + $475 for 50 gallons of diesel to power the generator.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The plane ticket is only $159. It’s the +250 for taxes that makes it expensive.</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Daily discussion with the security guard “You want to marry a Kenyan man or an American?”</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anything can be carried on your head or transported by bike, who says you need trucks.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The ATM just gave me 500 Ghana Cedis in bills of 100. No one has change.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The ATM just gave me 500 Ghana Cedis in 5 Cedi bills. All I have is change.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sorry Madame, we stop taking credit cards at 5 PM. Cash only now. </span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I bought a crappy expensive hair dryer from in Ghana. The power plug was for South Africa which fits in exactly zero outlets in Ghana and zero international converters.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I order take-out, the motorcycle taxi asks where to drop it. Since there are very few or no addresses, its always a fun game of reference. “I live near the city Water Works, by Palm Wine Junction…”</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Quote from colleagues, “The pastors in Kenya are some of the richest people.”</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Kenya “we found out today three years after being in office, that the politician rigged the elections. They kicked her out to have a reelection. She is running again.”</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JYef01GAdxGvpqX9TtgJpkqwqzygNkslSphETsKkTl3WGoVWfqw6zwPoE0BllqPyqN2OwLnSCEM4WX6gS4TR1FkZXAQeBjgHurS08Vb6BkBfQ3NsCuk4eLv6RHT7q4DPzSYDk8cjG7ev/s320/mental.jpg" /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A Ugandan woman on my last flight to Kampala tried to open the rear emergency exit in search for a restroom. Luckily, a flight attended returned to get some more tea, and caught her. She then spent the next 10 minutes screaming at the woman. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Article headline in Uganda’s national paper, New Vision states, “Computer-linked illness paralyzes woman.” The illness they are referring to is Multiple Sclerosis. Not sure this is scientific.</span></span></div><div><br />
</div></span></span>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-65011440170964162392010-07-16T12:36:00.000-07:002010-07-16T12:36:58.400-07:00Change of Latitudes, Change of Scenery<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I continue to fail at blogging. Since I wrote last, I have been on seven flights, making a path from Accra to London to Tel Aviv to Nairobi, Kampala, and back to Nairobi. Fun ride. I had a bit of a 'workacation' in London - meaning I worked 8 hour days and played the other 16, taking full advantage of the late summer nights of the northern hemisphere. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">In London, I did not see the Big Ben, Tower or Westminster. This trip was more about absorbing good friends, good food, and double-dip recession shopping - oh, Google food again! <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/q3r-Phdd5hbJFA1YaZdvywpkszJphaf60hT6HCDgrqA?feat=directlink">Big Dave, Aaron</a>, Hannah, Mike, Dave and Joseph were just what the witch doctor ordered to cure a coming case of burn out, and a great way to celebrate the 4th of July (or Rebellion Day as the Brits call it). </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">After five memorable days, I rushed off to Heathrow to hop a flight to Tel Aviv. It was not that fast. When I arrived at El AL, the Israeli national airline, I was greeted with hostility, interrogated, forced to demonstrate that all my electronics functioned, stripped of all my belongings except my phone and passport, escorted by security guards to my gate airport and then amusingly noted that my bra took a trip a security conveyer belt on its own. To top it off, one of my Israeli armed escorts, asked me out on a date - he said he never saw someone so amused during an 1.5 hour security briefing :). Moral of the story, don't by a one way ticket on an Israeli airline, and try to explain you are living a nomadic African life working for a tech company. In general, they find it very unplausible. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Israel is amazing. This was my second time to visit the historic epicenter, it just keeps getting better. I stayed in Tel Aviv right on the coast of the Mediterranean. Tel Aviv is the secular center, the king of night life, the Miami of the Mediterranean, not to mention, full of incredibly gorgeous people. If only I was Jewish. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My work brought me between Haifa and Tel Aviv. The first afternoon, I spent working at a colleagues house in a small coastal village and then the entire night wrestling and playing on the beach with her three kids. During the week, I reveled in some World Cup action, went on a date with the Israeli security guard from Heathrow, enjoyed great music, hot summer nights and fell back in love with hummus. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1kt07mBQ0nfjNLGzbDAeUyaVI6Re8yV9ik3zDk7789vhxCkEWloQYvcKeJs-pEy7zwiQaHeB_-WOuIS38hVJ1VogIeypy8Ipop4-FgQM4nU1uN8S0tq7C4leR0LIAXzVB-9SyE7CIvBQe/s1600/DSCN0086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1kt07mBQ0nfjNLGzbDAeUyaVI6Re8yV9ik3zDk7789vhxCkEWloQYvcKeJs-pEy7zwiQaHeB_-WOuIS38hVJ1VogIeypy8Ipop4-FgQM4nU1uN8S0tq7C4leR0LIAXzVB-9SyE7CIvBQe/s200/DSCN0086.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I took a three day weekend as Friday is a not a working day in Israel. I walked the<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaffa"> Old City of Jaffa</a>,(the longest inhabited city in the world), strolled some markets, and met up with Kurt Hoyer, a friend who is stationed with the State Department. Sadly, his family was out of town but he was an absolutely fantastic host. We explored the old ruins of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caesarea">Caesarea</a>. As Kurt says, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herod_the_Great">Herod the Great</a> had an eye for real estate. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Sunday, we drove through the West Bank to Jerusalem. The Old City was as fastinating as I remember but much hotter. We walked the tops of the city walls, roamed the ancient streets, spend time on the temple mount and to cool down, walked through the <a href="http://www.cityofdavid.org.il/vtour_eng.asp?id=29">Hezekiah's Tunnel</a> (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Chronicles%2032:30&version=KJV">Chronicles II, 32:3</a>0) in the City of David. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The tunnel a is narrow man-made water channel that built by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hezekiah">King Hezekiah</a> i to divert the potable liquid into the city wall and protect it from invadors. Kurt and couldn't have had better timing. WIth 45 feet of dirt above us, we submerged ourselves in pitch black tunnel up to our knees in water to walk the half mile length of the tunnel with about 20, thirteen year old girls on a school trip who screamed, yelped and shrilled their way through the reverberant tunnel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEM8Z8h5QFlhArGuJJpFmZWIiQ9BVm0g1EaKUPo84rfGWs4vqq1w92ZXtxG0YkgnwT7_rTYA-ts8FGfPn8bSM0CqyvLK5dHWlICLW44wr5_lYmnsD6cTSvWVKlgAx9ynvy-o-bd8yVvICg/s1600/DSCN0143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEM8Z8h5QFlhArGuJJpFmZWIiQ9BVm0g1EaKUPo84rfGWs4vqq1w92ZXtxG0YkgnwT7_rTYA-ts8FGfPn8bSM0CqyvLK5dHWlICLW44wr5_lYmnsD6cTSvWVKlgAx9ynvy-o-bd8yVvICg/s200/DSCN0143.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Now I am back in Africa, working tons but with a bit of time for running, Karaoke and up coming, rafting the Nile. This weekend, I am sorting out a temporary apartment in Nairobi as it looks like need to be in East Africa for the next 7 weeks minus two small trips to South Africa and Liberia. I departed Ghana for London June 29th with one carry-on which is now going to last me until September 10th. Need to do laundry.....again. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">More Pics can be found <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/bridgettesexton/IsraelJuly2010?authkey=Gv1sRgCJm2s9azn5i7FQ&feat=directlink">here</a> and <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/bridgettesexton/Israel?authkey=Gv1sRgCNWZ8eSk1aWRRA&feat=directlink">here</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4w5CBn5seKOLF4S47Km2bbXMAVSjfejzOg1ZeZ4P09kGZmvyUDXwp_yIglgE_QuHOJpDdRli2d3o5DWTBDdDfHdnA28hh_ZCTYdGeGwJfSm1jA5d6dGkAJcgGOZiz8qAxOjC3jD7zo1x/s1600/DSCN0178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4w5CBn5seKOLF4S47Km2bbXMAVSjfejzOg1ZeZ4P09kGZmvyUDXwp_yIglgE_QuHOJpDdRli2d3o5DWTBDdDfHdnA28hh_ZCTYdGeGwJfSm1jA5d6dGkAJcgGOZiz8qAxOjC3jD7zo1x/s200/DSCN0178.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-22662360891846645612010-06-26T06:03:00.000-07:002010-06-26T06:03:29.920-07:00Tour de Africa with Guest Appearances by.....<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s just say it has been a while but my mom’s persistent public banter on Facebook has convinced me to write an update. I will just hit some highlights rather than make this a 3.5 hour marathon to test your endurance. I last wrote from Dakar before hitting the southern delta of Senegal near Gambia with two other Googlers, Tidjane and Ayite. We took a boat ride, shared a meal with family friend’s of Tidjane’s who also let me and Ayite take his horse and cart out so we could make a movie.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">After Senegal, I headed back to Accra to worked on my stamina for labor – working +90 hour weeks to pull together a Google tech event with +450 people called </span><a href="http://sitescontent.google.com/gghana/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">G-Ghana</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (</span><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/bridgettesexton/GGhanaTopShots02?authkey=Gv1sRgCPee6eHwocbPKA&feat=directlink"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">pics</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">). In the midst of the madness, YouTube partnered with the </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/streetsoccertour?blend=2&ob=1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">world’s top street soccer team</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, headed by the famous goggles wearing, </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=41904376&l=e54acabd38&id=6417863"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Edgar Davids</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. We hosted the team in Ghana, took them dancing til dawn, by bus to the north to play local footballers in the street, and out shopping because the thieving Kenya Airways, “lost” their luggage. In fact, the first day, they had a match – many of them wearing my socks including Pinto, who succeeded in begging me to give him the socks off my own feet. (</span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2350173&id=6417863&l=e5efffa0ff"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">pics</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUjnVAiyhoaIQJf_dY3qMxGPqV5hGl9IVZMj0ZsQnlFzhjQ6pbUavozpoLQrc88q6E5PBpj_TfNbRZkTZZTARD5c0i5KDBkv56oWVmgj-G_LEeHcxO9AZvCDMW6FnLNSCvn5itdwpSeg-/s1600/IMG_1980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUjnVAiyhoaIQJf_dY3qMxGPqV5hGl9IVZMj0ZsQnlFzhjQ6pbUavozpoLQrc88q6E5PBpj_TfNbRZkTZZTARD5c0i5KDBkv56oWVmgj-G_LEeHcxO9AZvCDMW6FnLNSCvn5itdwpSeg-/s320/IMG_1980.JPG" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The last night they were here, Edgar wanted to go meet a bunch of famous footballers in Ghana (Adabayor, etc) despite needing to be at the airport. I drove them around to elaborate MTV Cribs style houses with butlers, a circular drive showcasing their five pimped out rides and living rooms that look like fancy showcase rooms. When we finally left, we had about 20 minutes to make it to the airport. I was pulled over 3 times in 10 minutes, blew of one police check point and bribed a copy with a Google t-shirt as I did want to give him cash but was in a hurry. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Besides footballers, </span><a href="http://sitescontent.google.com/gghana/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">G-Ghana</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> and the 21 Googlers in town consumed all wake hours. The event went off with only a few minor glitches – the second day, the combination of a tropical pour down flooding the streets and the President closing roads for an impromptu motorcade, caused attendees to come about an hour late. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGsmg206kxxwU2lB_b31gOXMx76qSRXEiwdXuhq6Zin2F8qzDUapJ4hGI6R1TWwdDVMla1lcYIel1CgS04g3u2JUAO8_ZhZZmMPfYAkB1zqVmJXNkdlmSzFI2zOUFW8Wvr6e-etFRoFy4h/s1600/IMG_9282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGsmg206kxxwU2lB_b31gOXMx76qSRXEiwdXuhq6Zin2F8qzDUapJ4hGI6R1TWwdDVMla1lcYIel1CgS04g3u2JUAO8_ZhZZmMPfYAkB1zqVmJXNkdlmSzFI2zOUFW8Wvr6e-etFRoFy4h/s320/IMG_9282.JPG" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">After a crazy event, I hit the beach and local markets with the Google crowd and then set off with my manager for less two days in Senegal. Next to Nairobi to where I surprised a few churchies when I randomly showed up. In Nairobi I met with a bunch of tech hubs, put on tourism conference pulled off with 3 days planning, and watched as much World Cup as possible. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Last weekend, I was asked to help out a project called </span><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/jun/22/world-cup-2010-kenya"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Field of Dreams</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> which was a joint project with Google and the BBC to teach young girls in the Kenyan beach village of Kilifi, computer skills. At night, we projected the games on a giant outdoor inflatable screen (so cool, check out </span><a href="http://www.openaircinema.us/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">OpenAirCinema</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">). Rain or shine, a huge crowd gathered to cheer on the African teams. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNyZP2zncZkhnSQLSPvsvNRX_SEBNPiR9n6kkyLclWsVlgT0B3WI6Ey5mWT6ob084yx5IZzBv4phiFU8p-AzKUxU8wcQzrgwcLZ7UES2w1D4vtwsehIxYQRte40V58NdxauyzwVXfTyZM/s1600/IMG_2081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNyZP2zncZkhnSQLSPvsvNRX_SEBNPiR9n6kkyLclWsVlgT0B3WI6Ey5mWT6ob084yx5IZzBv4phiFU8p-AzKUxU8wcQzrgwcLZ7UES2w1D4vtwsehIxYQRte40V58NdxauyzwVXfTyZM/s320/IMG_2081.JPG" /> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodfyErg9vOsJMltfPtO4uC-82Ts-lVlsr5EFOCnhBfGE1wji9riQbidNDjbw1z5vx6htNvPzZNAP2HAMFsl193oWvsj8SqZI7QBh0JmyVG_hM6WYmF_qW0ut0J1AUwTVMgG9GFdJg8UHj/s320/IMG_2080.JPG" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">One of my three days in Kilifi, myself and a colleague rented creaky walmart-quality super workout mountain bikes to explored the villages meeting people, taking pictures, sitting with a local soap stone carver, and generally reveling in the beauty and peace of this place. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2nrMyXVYJRAAWusirAP8xHBIk1wehWYIC-rwaLf9vEat7nzLHg_Nt52Gozu9kNLU4kvwg8AHYz6omfon-rlIqzFVuW3sGphco7TQ8pX-ykgi16bQUk86RRAOSYK4OF8zyCceM8yxL5zAP/s1600/IMG_2033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2nrMyXVYJRAAWusirAP8xHBIk1wehWYIC-rwaLf9vEat7nzLHg_Nt52Gozu9kNLU4kvwg8AHYz6omfon-rlIqzFVuW3sGphco7TQ8pX-ykgi16bQUk86RRAOSYK4OF8zyCceM8yxL5zAP/s320/IMG_2033.JPG" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VRSjTsMwRfn1xZL9H-9ZJoqG9E7cdBMGTujLddShoxaeJ_8lOACMpBPvnuYljEmKMuYLvdxdldZDV4MJlI5hDEXbB6Ae_1niA1V1od_JkY-we5z72rS7VY6hgLep1WxvyntzDqeEWRZr/s1600/IMG_2146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9VRSjTsMwRfn1xZL9H-9ZJoqG9E7cdBMGTujLddShoxaeJ_8lOACMpBPvnuYljEmKMuYLvdxdldZDV4MJlI5hDEXbB6Ae_1niA1V1od_JkY-we5z72rS7VY6hgLep1WxvyntzDqeEWRZr/s320/IMG_2146.JPG" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Monday through Wednesday of this week, I was waking up in my favorite city in Africa thus far, Kampala, Uganda. They city is built on seven lush hills on the edge of Lake Victoria. It is vibrant , proud, friendly, talkative and young. I hosted a lunch with young programmers who were hilarious – commentating and arguing about every aspect the educational system, the government,, the roads, the potential for technology, ending on the fact that what they really need is consistent electricity and better elementary education. That said, Africa is growing, developing and hungry for business. The consumer market is booming. The Africa of National Geographic is not the reality for 98% of inhabitance. Progress is happening and business is driving it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">For those wondering what exactly I am doing, here are a few things. I am involved with </span><a href="http://www.wherecampafrica.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">WhereCamp Nairobi</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, </span><a href="http://africamp.com/cameroon/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">BarCamp Cameroo</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">n, </span><a href="http://sitescontent.google.com/gghana/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">G-Ghana</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, G-Africa, Apps for Africa, iHub, etc. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">For now, I am on a(nother) plane back to Accra to watch the Ghana vs. USA game among other tasks like laundry, paying rent, working, resting and packing for another 3 weeks on the road – London, Israel, Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania and back to Accra before Nigeria. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">BTW, Africa is HUGE. ENORMOUS even. I am on a 8 hours flight over land in a Boeing 737 to get from East to West Africa. In total, it will take me 27 hours to get back to Accra. Flying in Africa sucks. I will explain later. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">*More pics coming soon </span></div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-7803733882569443512010-05-13T16:32:00.000-07:002010-05-13T16:32:06.428-07:00A Senegal for All.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Senegal has by far surpassed my expectations - which to be honest, were nil - that said, come to Senegal! It is a dynamic country balancing between West African, French, and Arab roots. The population speaks French and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolof_people">Wolof</a>, is primarily Muslim, very tall, loves music, football, and food. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwq1eukdZgItwh_UO4xeTFIV0yU3jaYTkxRiLF3wmQrTZeSw80RgC5HeKeG2td4Bpp6PrMixAwrby9L1BQUrPhmCuXWY5aA5_QwkBzR4UtpisJY7DGm3J5PVouJ8d0mbCV4acgqkCzOQsI/s1600/IMG_1800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwq1eukdZgItwh_UO4xeTFIV0yU3jaYTkxRiLF3wmQrTZeSw80RgC5HeKeG2td4Bpp6PrMixAwrby9L1BQUrPhmCuXWY5aA5_QwkBzR4UtpisJY7DGm3J5PVouJ8d0mbCV4acgqkCzOQsI/s320/IMG_1800.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2y6S-8PiPgvXfTXIDd-FmZmLtiS1JS3CsunYtZDcJIy_9JSx7aOF7mJgw33L6S-JmMxphzUqlyPaIx3YzHoOTtlr31pk5Pg0_Ki3iGgkIyGSd47LFZwhcJRLLJs_bTunjN822-aoe1usK/s1600/IMG_1836-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2y6S-8PiPgvXfTXIDd-FmZmLtiS1JS3CsunYtZDcJIy_9JSx7aOF7mJgw33L6S-JmMxphzUqlyPaIx3YzHoOTtlr31pk5Pg0_Ki3iGgkIyGSd47LFZwhcJRLLJs_bTunjN822-aoe1usK/s320/IMG_1836-1.JPG" /></a></div><div><br />
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<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Upon my arrival, I was greeted by Cheick, the head of security for West Africa for the company Google contracts with. Typically he is not a driver but due to the security mix up the night before, he was assigned to my case. Cheick is awesome - super smart, fun insightful and honest. Normally drivers stay in the car and wait for clients, but as I don't like people waiting for me, Cheick has become a partner in adventure, tour guide and friend. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4sZ2SAAhPqce9CzdsGnVngNt_e3mteB3VuLKyDoLxY2sdOCJc0yRFkdi7jOfEyCDUWeq5ukOkwd9XrAtcANEy4JXYF5ZvDmnpZ5bqEh11B8DJXiJSJE04mT1RipBz3HXAxfyvtDAKicas/s1600/IMG_1764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4sZ2SAAhPqce9CzdsGnVngNt_e3mteB3VuLKyDoLxY2sdOCJc0yRFkdi7jOfEyCDUWeq5ukOkwd9XrAtcANEy4JXYF5ZvDmnpZ5bqEh11B8DJXiJSJE04mT1RipBz3HXAxfyvtDAKicas/s320/IMG_1764.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Sunday we spent the day exploring the site including a gorgeous mosque in a fishing village, a small island with cobble stone streets and fantastic beaches, and shared a delicious fish grilled on the beach. Monday I met up with the the two Googlers in Senegal, finally in the flesh - Tidjane and Ayite - who are stunning people, great hosts and fantastic dancers (as proven last night :)</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">This week has been spent balancing engaging in office debates, working, and exploring Dakar. It is a vibrant city with tantalizing french-african food, music streaming from every sidewalk, poorly preserved but captivating French colonial buildings, perfect running weather and beautiful beaches.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The streets of Dakar host anything from mercedes to horse and cart. Each corner has a fruit stand, someone selling mobile phone pre-paid scratch cards, and often a big Senegalese man wearing a t-shirt with an English saying on it unaware of it's means. The best I have heard of yet is a huge 6ft 4 guy sporting the saying "Grandma's don't always look this good." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpIiA1LWmPVZyuTECawfcFxbJ5mXGxG09oYTxKfqMXJul-lnxnGoe0pbCFWMfRoxYSEfMeK_kRm8or4-dcx1K1No4v8habNZHTyXBv4d2V6gt9aNc0NEc8C4PNdxbHRrN7UrmRLP9DFw8F/s1600/IMG_1761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpIiA1LWmPVZyuTECawfcFxbJ5mXGxG09oYTxKfqMXJul-lnxnGoe0pbCFWMfRoxYSEfMeK_kRm8or4-dcx1K1No4v8habNZHTyXBv4d2V6gt9aNc0NEc8C4PNdxbHRrN7UrmRLP9DFw8F/s320/IMG_1761.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Today was a bank holiday so less working. I took a ferry to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gor%C3%A9e">Goree Island</a> to visit the slavery museum and old french town - I was accompanied by a PeaceCorp worker Jackie and her mom, who I met through a friend earlier on in the week. Upon my return to the mainland, Cheick met me. I asked for some traditional Senegalese food. Cheick quickly made some calls and we ended up at a house in a bustling neighborhood. His mom, two aunts and cousins greeted us at the door, and fed us some delicious fish and rice. His mom works at the airport but is a seamstress on the side. Before I left, she showed me her items prepared for the market, had me try them on. As a parting guilt, she gave me an outfit despite my pleas to pay. Then Cheick and I headed to the beach and his best friend's house to play music, sing and drink tea - amazing. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHftU7r-maz6lHIlhRHux37G2MyfxawttaPZlRDMA3QY0Sarwqahu2JpSXYqQLU_ZbQY-jxqfWNldmXYECnMsYjaetpwnNsceuRioCMobfcdtC5stPpqMKVk54jr0nRzcyjI4o_MnEKlC/s1600/IMG_1858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHftU7r-maz6lHIlhRHux37G2MyfxawttaPZlRDMA3QY0Sarwqahu2JpSXYqQLU_ZbQY-jxqfWNldmXYECnMsYjaetpwnNsceuRioCMobfcdtC5stPpqMKVk54jr0nRzcyjI4o_MnEKlC/s320/IMG_1858.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">Tomorrow, post work, I am headed to a southern island with Tidjane, his wife, Ayite and girlfriend for two days to relax, go kayaking and visit some villages. We will be about 30 minutes from Gambia which is an anglophone country completely incased by Senegal - I might have to stop by. Regardless, given my company, it will be an amazing weekend. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Yep, I could live here. I need to learn French. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/bridgettesexton/Senegal52010?authkey=Gv1sRgCLGfjsCjo8vzvQE&feat=directlink">More pictures.</a> </div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-71392087186651723122010-05-08T07:10:00.000-07:002010-05-08T09:52:27.451-07:00No worries, Ghana's got my back.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">For this obruni in Ghana, there is no need for concern. When I meet a Ghanaian, before we part ways, they always ask for my number. Often guys, so they can call me repeatedly with no concept of social norms of frequency or time of day (so far, I have avoided all but one of these who is now code named "Ben the creeper' in my contacts). But for majority of Ghanaians, receiving a phone number, especially from a foreigner, is how they seal the friendship. It is taken with an unspoken responsibility to look out for me. Daily, I receive at least 4-5 calls from acquaintances I don't remember, just to to see how I am doing, if I am sick, and if I need anything. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">This same crowd heard I was looking to buy a car. You would have thought I was stranded in burning building by the force that deployed. Ghana is functions on a network of who you know. You don't go to the internet for information (yet:) , instead you phone your sister's boyfriend's uncle's cousin who knows some one who has probably heard of a vehical for sale. He calls his people who call theirs. Then they all ring you with arguments as to why you should purchase what they have and don't need what you want. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Because of my obruni status, this network refuses to allow me to show my face or do any talking. My friend, Akousua has been dialing up connection saying "Hey, I need to buy a 4 x4 right now. I have the money but not much, nothing flashy but reliable and want it soon...(pause).....no no too much, do me a favor, come on. You must know some man with a wife out there unhappy with her 4x4 because it is not as shiny as her girlfriend's. Come on, think harder." </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We have yet to be successful but have a plethora of random options. Next plan is to go to a dealer with a few friends, check out all the cars, make a list of the ones I like. Then we will send a different group of guys 1-2 days later to negotiate and make the purchase. We will see.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The moral of the story is, people here watch out for me, almost to the extreme, including Google. Today, I had a leisurely morning before heading to church. Around 10 AM, I check my phone - 9 missed calls and 27 work emails. As I don't work Saturday's, this seemed a little extreme so I check email and found a stack of 'URGENT" messages. Upon opening, it was apparent, Google was looking for me and had jump started an international security team across Senegal and Ghana. Apparently, our head of security, had incorrectly entered my flight details to Dakar which leaves tonight at 10:22 PM and arrives at 1:30AM tomorrow - as arriving at 1:30 last night. When I never showed up in Dakar and did not answer my phone, they imagined the worst, got the VP of Google involved and the entire Google Africa team....all while I was sleeping peacefully and sipping some coffee. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Seems a little over kill but reassuring for my mother. Mom, this post is for you :-)</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Other things of interest, I met some incredibly innovative and insightful people this week in the tech education space - <a href="http://www.ashesi.edu.gh/HOME/president.html">Ashesi University President</a>, <a href="http://meltwater.org/">MeltWater </a>- some start ups, meet some government Ministers and attended a Internet policy discussion. LOTS of LONG working hours but I love it. Don't worry, I still manage some social time with a few nights out on the town a week :-)</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My weekly highlight is my runs. I run a different routes around diverse parts of the city with few Ghanian guys and a former rugby coach from Cameroon. We run through areas with enormous homes, farms, military training, and compacted red dirt paths through shanty towns. Kids yell 'obruni' and run a few steps with me. Young men try to trot along but don't last long - when they give up, I smile, turn while running backwards and say 'that's it?' giving rise to laughter from their friends and family. Its running here is fun despite the unbearable heat. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">For real this time, I am going to Senegal tonight - please no security alerts!</div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-54298711385223763382010-05-04T16:00:00.000-07:002010-05-04T16:00:21.491-07:00Teach a man to fish or send him to school.<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">This past weekend was incredible. I spent Saturday afternoon to Sunday night in a <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/TKZuDIlo-TEFZhawXGmRysR6nShwlkaSfHQoYxgL8LE?feat=directlink">huge house on the beach</a> with a group of friends. We enjoyed some white sand, pale beer, and amazingly refreshing breeze. The friends I joined are mostly Ghanians who were educated and/or group up in the UK and have returned. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Society here is distinctly stratified socioeconomically with education being the most obvious separating factor. Education is free up until age 14 at which point you pay for secondary education (typically boarding schools). Then of course universities are expensive compared to average earnings ($2 per day) and the demand is higher than the seats in classrooms - you often find standing room only in many classrooms. But education is understood as the gateway to a better future so if families who have any money, send their kids as far along in school as possible and out of country for university - hence most of the people I interact with through work are UK or US educated. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSyC8_RSyVWh7uB10UbAs6ADceIxhEZeUifkQlRFUBVd49SUhP3D4S7HWLV1ppCSQwZzuQooMr_3DZT0QXytFt7AwKs7yn-J1C3_lLOjKL24gjz5I_V7zg_v-gcA_RzUq7Sl_kRDZ6clP/s1600/DSC_0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSyC8_RSyVWh7uB10UbAs6ADceIxhEZeUifkQlRFUBVd49SUhP3D4S7HWLV1ppCSQwZzuQooMr_3DZT0QXytFt7AwKs7yn-J1C3_lLOjKL24gjz5I_V7zg_v-gcA_RzUq7Sl_kRDZ6clP/s320/DSC_0044.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">During this past weekend, I spent most of the day watching the fishermen at work. With their <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/wL2Ixpq0W2TyQquY5TsngMR6nShwlkaSfHQoYxgL8LE?feat=directlink">hand-crafted boats </a>and tattered nets, setting them beyond the ocean break. After a few hours, the nets would be pulled in from the shore by all the available hands on deck, including the smallest of boys. As the sparse catch hit shore, the men pile around to pull out the fish while kids would crawl through their legs trying to grab what they could scrounge. Women gathered around the harvest with baskets and bowls sorting the fish and preparing to walk the shore selling the fresh catch with their container perched on their head. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0p4TqoOnIH4u87STzXhKtLwxMFX12v43Lp6As2hnI7YGrnjZFR86PgVQs0hvYvxuQm-6LCczD4ozKUX36avb86RTjNzhD3OZtYEUgfrLxS3H_wS5mYJ7Dgnu6XdD8U0CZCKjN_54ieGZX/s1600/DSC_0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0p4TqoOnIH4u87STzXhKtLwxMFX12v43Lp6As2hnI7YGrnjZFR86PgVQs0hvYvxuQm-6LCczD4ozKUX36avb86RTjNzhD3OZtYEUgfrLxS3H_wS5mYJ7Dgnu6XdD8U0CZCKjN_54ieGZX/s320/DSC_0038.JPG" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Honestly the women here must have necks of steal. They can and will carry anything on their head - live fish, a table top with sandwich fixings, a enormous bowl of fruit, bucket of water - all while navigating traffic, carrying children, and selling their goods. I even saw a woman walking with probably a <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/wL2Ixpq0W2TyQquY5TsngMR6nShwlkaSfHQoYxgL8LE?feat=directlink">hundred bras</a> ready to sell on the street in traffic. What I wondered is who buys a bra from their car window. Men do carry things to sell on their heads as well although not often bras. Its nice as you can buy anything from your car window from toilet paper to a 3 ft x 5 ft mirror. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I will stop here. I realize I need to blog more often so I write a more digestible amount in each tidbit. Bon appetite <br />
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Weekly Stats: Running Water 28.5% Electricity: 78.5% Av Temperature 33 C / 91.4 F</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-76293339006993409622010-04-27T15:07:00.000-07:002010-04-29T07:15:37.058-07:00Drinkers with a Running Problem: the Hash or Government<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The last few weeks have been themed by work, trying to get cool, playing random sports and of course some dancing. I learned to play squash, was initiated into a local sect of a global running/drinking club called <a href="http://accrahash.com/">the Hash</a> (slogan 'drinkers with running problem,' joined an actual running club, found a clean stretch of urban beach, and am headed to the US Embassy to play beach volleyball tomorrow. After surviving attack of the parasite, fever and series of stomach issues late last week, Saturday night regained strength enough to hit a few local dance clubs featuring Nigerian music with two guys I met from church - we jammed until late, grabbed some street food and took a rickety '80's toyota cabbie home. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlW2XcuNJVDD5RawoaFnskfj5QWwgm1Cau7yTsBMBst61QeR9U2BNlwGNj7175MZTY4sxLNUPE45vxRm_V8E1SA1zzUm44SJvxENIwiefeYPCikm4NZnMsfiUoThieywl0HdaMgbfnN0pc/s1600/IMG_1703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlW2XcuNJVDD5RawoaFnskfj5QWwgm1Cau7yTsBMBst61QeR9U2BNlwGNj7175MZTY4sxLNUPE45vxRm_V8E1SA1zzUm44SJvxENIwiefeYPCikm4NZnMsfiUoThieywl0HdaMgbfnN0pc/s320/IMG_1703.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Despite the list above, I have worked 6 days a week as much as my latent internet connection, directionally challenged personal driver and the rolling blackouts of electricity will allow. I have met with government ministers, deans, venture capitalists and computer programmers across Ghana. I am living an education course on the Ghanaian intellectuals, techies, entrepreneurs, mobile operators while surviving the lectures of the government. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XqrXBuUbmLqLQuOT_2_ta0ViGOYpj-R_KGTu3EWvnUuAbRAB7mVxfpmZSIuGoq-lNeH4TjgUYloKsuLBLgDI4zClOgSZgzj7l8JTIIP89kOY-t1cAKKk0jsrfrbIoq1bYnXTRGW8MRHJ/s1600/IMG_1699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XqrXBuUbmLqLQuOT_2_ta0ViGOYpj-R_KGTu3EWvnUuAbRAB7mVxfpmZSIuGoq-lNeH4TjgUYloKsuLBLgDI4zClOgSZgzj7l8JTIIP89kOY-t1cAKKk0jsrfrbIoq1bYnXTRGW8MRHJ/s320/IMG_1699.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Often ministers and government employees require you to pay them money, called sitting fees, to attend meetings and request consulting fees for their formal advice or permission (we do not pay :). You frequently have to bribe the press to attend and write about events. But possibly the worst of example is the World Bank and such NGOs, who provides loans with exact provisions of where the money is spent, which is typically back in their pockets and then require repayment with hight interest with money that only glanced their economy. I was aware of this WB policy but spent my afternoon with very honest well educated government official who relayed the spiraling effect of the policy in practice - short sighted minister offered millions indentures the country. Interestingly enough, the World Bank has competition here with Chinese banks making a carbon copy sales pitch but with more cash. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">On a lighter note, it is a holiday weekend (not sure what holiday yet :) so I will be headed with friends to a family mansion on the southeast coast to enjoy the Gulf of Guinea. Ghanians are awesome hosts and take care of their Obruni. </div>Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-86629171440431509552010-04-20T02:41:00.000-07:002010-04-20T02:41:19.075-07:00From Italian Girl to Accra 'Obruni'Since my last post, I traveled to historic Milano, Italy for the weekend, back to Zurich and am now sitting to Accra, Ghana - my new home. I traveled to Italy by train through the snow capped Swiss Alps, twisting through quaint towns, remote villages, deep gorges and absolutely stunning lakes. The border between Switzerland and Italy was only marked by the backyard gardens transitioning to small family vineyards but the culture is worlds way. I strolled and ate my way through Milano then capstoned Zurich with back-to-back pub crawls with local Googlers. (<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/bridgettesexton/MilanoItaly?authkey=Gv1sRgCM-A9sOJhoWjMw&feat=directlink">Italy pics</a>) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fjwQ7m4PVXI6iXzUU9lRfaXdXVJA6sfCEoqCAoGW4nr1FMr4WhUCQmVVIB6CmfE2v-FJNLibvwJkC7IWKbs_riW7s8foh_J0-5g-HWZSE54R7oqwn9Th2aigyoqviJ-PKmgdYvXHxu01/s1600/IMG_1676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fjwQ7m4PVXI6iXzUU9lRfaXdXVJA6sfCEoqCAoGW4nr1FMr4WhUCQmVVIB6CmfE2v-FJNLibvwJkC7IWKbs_riW7s8foh_J0-5g-HWZSE54R7oqwn9Th2aigyoqviJ-PKmgdYvXHxu01/s320/IMG_1676.JPG" /></a></div>On Wednesday night I arrived in Accra, Ghana welcomed by a hot balmy gust of wind that settled to just....hot air. The only other Google employee, Estelle, welcomed me and drove me to my new abode with 3 roommates, a lively security guy named Hope, a house keeper Theo with her 5 yr old daughter Blessings. <br />
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Thus far, Ghana has lived up to its reputation as a friendly, topical safe haven, with incredible mangos and even better people. It's economy is booming - hosting West Africa's first proper mall, well paved roads with nice cars, tons of expats, and a bourgeoning local middle class. Poverty still has a prevalent face in society but its not ruling the complexion. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYn8nsfXxtjbjOofdiclF9ONex5GwC5kvGkOrLsOC_yPvHoJsz84E5of0Ow3qvS7w_CTLMiBRYxkWerGtalmglQqVXlEHMd0iyUA67HGosunyyf4ihp_33TWFgRHpSbnaSNotoWKdT9Xz/s1600/IMG_1690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYn8nsfXxtjbjOofdiclF9ONex5GwC5kvGkOrLsOC_yPvHoJsz84E5of0Ow3qvS7w_CTLMiBRYxkWerGtalmglQqVXlEHMd0iyUA67HGosunyyf4ihp_33TWFgRHpSbnaSNotoWKdT9Xz/s320/IMG_1690.JPG" /></a></div>Since my arrival, I have managed to join a cycling group, church, running club, and have meetings with local developers, the largest university in Ghana, a Nigerian bank and lost power and water at least once a day (if it is on at all to loose). I am mastering the 'bucket shower.' On the radar is purchasing a 4x4 and a week in Senegal. <br />
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Funfact: Ghanians love country music. You will find Dolly Parton much faster than Beyonce on the radio. > My house >>><br />
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~ Bridge ' Obruni 'Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-77635340105488293272010-04-09T13:51:00.000-07:002010-04-09T14:33:21.906-07:00Hoisting My World Behind Me from SF to Zurich<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVqxW67TVm5yX_JFftm2Sepsd2YsksLQXNeTZVVs0a7fOauFLS5BqMRXPd1vKskIy3dxCbBkbietP21M8rYSzvpEjMT_4xtgmxE1eF0JrTvqGKh4lNs6vVed4J5d-YrVr__tM6nDrD7ctY/s1600/2010-03-25+07.06.38(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVqxW67TVm5yX_JFftm2Sepsd2YsksLQXNeTZVVs0a7fOauFLS5BqMRXPd1vKskIy3dxCbBkbietP21M8rYSzvpEjMT_4xtgmxE1eF0JrTvqGKh4lNs6vVed4J5d-YrVr__tM6nDrD7ctY/s320/2010-03-25+07.06.38(2).jpg" /></a>> Last ride, last day in SF.</div><br />
Geography and time have moved at an equally rapid pace the past few weeks. I packed up my life into a 6x6 storage unit and two suitcases, enjoyed a final few bike rides in San Fran, hopped a flight to Seattle to relish my family at our best event yet - Hollie & Isiah's wedding, and now I am in Zurich for 8 days bound for Ghana. And yes, I have begrudgingly been the sherpa for my 65 kilos (143 lbs) of luggage. I look like that girl who brings shoes for every possible outfit that you see in the airport and think 'she should just not travel if it is that much effort.' Luckily, I have an excuse.<br />
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Zurich is gorgeous and tastes even better. The landscape with the rising Alps above Lake Zurich and greenery are incredibly similar to the Puget Sound in Washington with pristine running weather! The architecture, cobble stone streets, and cathedrals are quintessentially European with German influence. The Swiss are strong traditionalists with fairly ridged social norms and odd regulations to enforce them (apparently it is illegal to recycle on Sunday because it is noisy). The food tastes handcrafted - from the crusty fresh bread to the decadent chocolate and smooth wheat beer. I am indulging while I can.<br />
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The Google office here is a little fantastical with fire poles and slides running between the seven floors, authentic chairlifts serving as couches, a greenhouse, library and outgoing groups of Googlers to go along with it. They have ensured that I enjoy the slightly uptight, smokey, male dominated Zurich nightlife to its fullest. I have ;)<br />
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This town is awesome but little too quite for my style. I think I might go to Italy for the weekend. Given the wedding I attended last week, I am confident Italians are slightly less reserved. More pictures can be found <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/bridgettesexton/Switzerland?authkey=Gv1sRgCI_Z-_epzInYMQ&feat=directlink">here</a>!Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-873402313924867222.post-44652567656723752522010-03-01T20:30:00.000-08:002010-03-01T23:10:19.963-08:0020 Minutes, 20,000 MilesLife always has the potential to change - moment by moment. But sometimes the moment is abrupt and the change unimaginable.<br />
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Last week, I was given the opportunity to move to London and then a subsequent, unprovoked opportunity to live in Africa with 12 hours to decide. One position was a secure, defined and well-rewarded; the second, a intangible vision to actuate on my passion to make an impact and do something unique.<br />
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As I see it now, I made the right choice...this bridge leads to Ghana. We will see. Bridgettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02892815719145360001noreply@blogger.com0