Greetings, friends and relatives. Yes, you read the title correctly. We are in the United States now, and have been for several weeks. Kristi is due to give birth to our daughter, Julie, any day now, and we opted for American health care over Saotomean healthcare, despite the former's notoriously labyrinthine insurance system. I'd rather wrangle with insurance companies than not be allowed into the maternity ward whatsoever during my wife's entire labor (as in Sao Tome), while she must provide her own linens, fetch her own water, and feed herself during her hospital stay! So we're staying with our family in Berrien Springs, Michigan for the time being.

We don't know for sure when we'll be returning to Sao Tome, but it will be this summer some time. There was a possibility of a teaching job for me in the United States, but we opted to continue with our work in Sao Tome for now. The project I am directing is coming to an end this month, and when we return, I will assume the responsibilities of the ADRA Country Director. This means that we will be more permanent (with more responsibility), instead of contract workers.

The Ambassador

Not long before leaving, we were blessed by a visit from our new ambassador, the honorable Eunice S. Reddick. She is based at the US Embassy in Libreville, Gabon, which covers STP as well. Her visit coincided with the arrival of a US Navy battleship. From time to time, various navies stop over in STP as part of their circulating tours of African waters (French and American being the most common). I first met her at a reception for the sailors and officers of the American navy ship that was in port at the time. It was quite a highbrow affair! The reception was held at night on the lawn of the 4-star Miramar Hotel amidst beautiful gardens and spotlights. Various US sailors directed me toward a red carpet, and I remember thinking, "Yeah, right! That's probably just an expression: 'red carpet.'" But lo and behold, there was a red carpet lined by sailors in starched white uniforms. As soon as my foot hit the red carpet, the sailors snapped to attention, saluted stiffly, and blew in unison on their navy whistles. I nearly startled at the shrill blast, and barely managed to maintain my composure as flashbulbs popped and I shook the hands of the ship's captain and the ambassador. Dignitaries and hangers-on swarmed the open bar and buffet tables, and a navy jazz band entertained the guests -- they were really good!

Anyway, we are glad to have an ambassador again. The last one, R. Barrie Walkley, left shortly after our arrival last year (we met him only once). While she was in town, Ambassador Reddick also held a town-hall meeting for all Americans living on the island where we could air our concerns and describe living conditions to her and her consular officer, Grace Genuino. They also asked for volunteers to be the next US Embassy Warden in Sao Tome e Principe. A warden is simply a point of contact for the embassy. If they want to issue a statement or communicate important news with all Americans registered as residents in a particular country, they send a message to the warden who then disseminates the information via an email or telephone list. That sounds easy enough, so I offered to do it when we return. I asked what the pay was (wink!), and they said I get the privilege of a photo-op with the ambassador! Yippee! I can hardly wait!

Bribery

I was definitely guilty. It was dusk and I couldn't see well. I pulled out in front of the motorcycle cop and he nailed me fair and square. He didn't hit me, but came close, and he was definitely peeved. Lacking a siren on his motorbike, he simply pulled even with my driver's side window and gesticulated wildly for me to pull over. He could barely contain himself as he swaggered on over to my side of the car. "Do you know that what you just did is very dangerous?!" he began. "Yes, sir, I am very sorry," I replied. "I didn't see you coming in the dark." After looking at my papers and verifying that they were in order, he said, "You'll have to come by the police station tomorrow morning to pay a fine and get your license back." I wasn't sure whether or not he was authorized to keep my license in the first place (I suspect not), but I repeated, "I'm very sorry. Please excuse me." Sniffing the bait, he looked at me and said, "You want me just to excuse you? Just like that? Buy me a drink, then." And then with a smirk, he continued, "This is Africa, you know. This is how we do things!" Pulling out 20,000 Dobras (about $1.50), I said, "Yes, I know. Will this do?" Taking the money from me, he said, "This will buy more than one drink. And I don't have change." Just happy to get my license back and avoid a visit to the police station, I said, "Don't worry about it. Buy a drink for your friend, too."

So, am I an accomplice in the dysfunction of the justice system? A brilliant navigator of cross-cultural situations? Something in between? In general, I'm frustrated by how the justice system seems to be rife with corruption, but when it works in my favor...

Government Operation, According to STP

One of the last big activities of the project I am directing was a mega training festival for nurses of Caue and Principe. We paid transportation of nurses and a hefty per diem (for them to cover their own food and lodging) and then held them captive for 5 full days of training in reproductive health and management of health facilities. It was a big deal, covering all nurses of those two districts and getting ample press coverage. A representative of the Minister of Health came to the closing ceremony, but the minister himself was strangely absent (even stranger since he used to work for ADRA and strongly supports our activities in the country). I found out that he had recently been deposed, but not of his own account.

The government changes every 6 months or so. In a country like STP with 3 major political parties, you can never get a majority. In the US, probably 45% are Democrat and 45% are Republican, and the remaining 10% can ally themselves with either side, depending on the issue, in order to help one party or the other get a majority. That's not so easy with 3 parties. It seems that the only time any two parties can agree on anything is when they gang up on the third party in opposition to some policy or action that party is trying to implement. So, 2 parties might agree in blocking a 3rd party's activities, but they never agree on what to do instead! So hardly anything ever gets done or resolved.

In addition, the different government ministries are divvied up every 6 months between the 3 parties with different ministries being assigned to different parties within the coalition. If there are 9 ministries, for example, each party is responsible for appointing someone to fill 3 posts every six months, but the posts themselves rotate between parties. So if one's party held the ministries of health, education, and commerce this time, next time, they might hold the ministries of tourism, finance, and agriculture. This means that there is hardly any longevity of any given person in any particular government ministry, making it nearly impossible to accomplish anything (how can one make long-term plans when he knows he might not be minister anymore in 6 months?). It also means that if one's party was allocated the ministry of agriculture this time but there is nobody in the party with those qualifications, a non-qualified person is appointed just so that the party doesn't lose that spot. Many a time, there are only a few people in a given party with any real governing experience whatsoever, so they are constantly reappointed to whatever ministries happen to be allocated to their party at the time, such that this term's Minister of Education might be the Minister of Agriculture next term.

It makes for very complex politics, and we must constantly ensure that we as an NGO stay apolitical, not appearing to favor one party over another at any given time. Our point is not to intervene at the government level anyway; we simply want to have a good working relationship with whatever party is in control, so we have to scramble to keep abreast of governmental shifts and not mistakenly contact the wrong person when we need to address some aspect of our work!

Miracle in Mesquita

Emanuel Costa, ADRA-STP's Country Director for nearly 6 years, left in February for good. He took up his duties as Country Director of ADRA Malawi this month, and though there is an interim country director in place right now (while I am in the States), I started to undertake some country director responsibilities before leaving. One nightmare I inherited was the Mesquita project. That sounds really bad, I know, and the problem wasn't with the project itself. It was with the unbelievable level of difficulties encountered while trying to implement the project. The project was an agricultural one, aimed at fixing the irrigation system of the highest-producing agricultural zone of the country: Mesquita, the breadbasket of STP. An elaborate irrigation system was built about 20 years ago by the French; part of a stream was diverted to fill a large reservoir carved out of a mountainside. The reservoir was lined with thick black plastic, and had an outlet pipe at the bottom which fed the individual irrigation pipes going out to the fields in the valley below. The reservoir was filled once daily, and then gradually drained over the next 24 hours as farmers watered their fields. When the reservoir was nearly empty, a gatekeeper that lived up the mountain beside the reservoir would open the inlet valve again to fill the reservoir. Problem was, the plastic cracked and the seams came unglued and water leaked into the ground and the reservoir just couldn't keep up with the volume needed by the farmers in the valley down below anymore. The fields at the end of the irrigation line were the first to go. As the situation worsened, the progression of brown and dying fields crept toward the mountainside, threatening to put all farmers and their fields at risk.

Enter ADRA. We hired an engineer, drained the reservoir, ripped out the plastic, lined the reservoir with a grid of rebar, and prepared to pour a concrete lining for the reservoir. Then, the giant cement mixer we had lined up broke and was out of service indefinitely. It was the only one of its size in the country, so we had to scramble at the last minute to line up several smaller ones. We couldn't find enough to enable sufficient pouring pace (you can't let a concrete pouring job go too long, or it will have differential strength across the length of the slab), so we had to postpone beginning. Then, when some that had been locked up before became available, the original ones were no longer available. The Minister of Agriculture finally intervened to free up some cement mixers that we had been unsuccessful in negotiating ourselves. So, the project began. But it became quickly apparent that the materials that had been estimated by the engineer were not nearly sufficient for the job. We had to go outside our budget and buy more supplies. Then the rains began again (the project was supposed to be done by January, which is a relatively dry month, but dragged into February because of all the delays). The access roads up to the mountain became slick with mud, making delivery of supplies impossible on some days. It was truly incredible. One thing after another went wrong that it started to become comical! In one particular case, for example, we had rented a truck to deliver a flatbed of cement bags to the construction site. The morning of the delivery, it wouldn't start. After several hours of tinkering, we ditched it and hired another. That one broke down halfway to the site! A third truck had to be rented just to finish what was supposed to have been a routine delivery!

I honestly don't know how, but after lurching and stumbling forward for several torturous weeks, the concrete pouring job was finally done. On the day that the last cement load was poured into place, a cheer rose up from the farmers' association, and the treasurer of the association (a man in his 60's) burst into tears of joy. Through his sobs, he recounted to us how he had longed his whole life for a better irrigation system, and had watched helplessly as the current one had slowly failed over the years. There was nothing he could do about it, and he knew that the government never would either, either because they wouldn't prioritize it or wouldn't be able to afford it. One by one, his fellow farmers fell onto hard times, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his field would dry up, too, for lack of sufficient water. Nobody had dreamed that a humanitarian agency would come down out of the blue and work with them to solve their problem. Such miracles are the most gratifying part of working for ADRA, making all the long hours of hard work worth it all. We are looking forward to many more stories like this one as I take over the directorship of ADRA-STP upon our return.