Cape Cod and Impromptu Training

For the first time since starting the fellowship, I had the chance to get out of the city this weekend and went down to Cape Cod with a friend from college. We spent Saturday afternoon on the beach, an activity that acquired a new layer of complexity thanks to my crutches (I still have sand in them). In the evening, we went out for a seafood dinner and indulged in some shameless tourism.

After an extremely busy week, this little getaway was exactly what I needed. In addition, the kitschy Americana that is characteristic of the Cape put me in the mood for the upcoming 4th of July festivities.

On Sunday evening, Rebecca and I met up with Jared, one of the 2006-07 Insight Fellows. He just finished his fellowship year and stopped through Boston on his way back from his final placement in Jordan. It was great to meet him and to get a chance to pick his brains about the fellowship. He talked about some of his best experiences, such as gorilla tracking in Uganda, some of the challenges, like trying to apply to graduate school while abroad, and some of his personal development, including his improved family relationships.

Jared then turned around what had become a Q&A session and began quizzing me and Rebecca about our thoughts thus far and our hopes and fears for the upcoming time abroad. He was a great listener and repeatedly acknowledged our opinions—a skill on which I called him out. He laughed and our chat evolved into what can only be described as a mini-coaching session. He tested us on some of our theoretical knowledge (what are the four P’s? what goes into the circle of value?) and shared what he thought were the most practical tools.

The hours we spent together were fun and invigorated me with a new perspective on the year ahead—perhaps a more accurate perspective since it came from someone who just completed the Fellowship. I only hope that I can emerge from this experience with the same ease with the skills and theory and the same eloquent insight as Jared seems to have gained.

Negotiation Role Play

I finally had an appointment with orthopedist today to have a look at my ankle. He was unimpressed with my healing and prescribed 6 weeks of physical therapy. I was devastated by the news, which promised several more weeks on crutches and a prolonged healing process.

However, after the morning bad news, the day got significantly better when Seisei, one of the other Fellows, gave a lunch presentation. Instead of giving a formal presentation on the week’s reading assignment, the classic Getting to Yes, she gathered myself, Rebecca, and Jeff, an Insight summer intern, and proposed that we use the time as a training session. We all thought it was a great idea and decided to do a negotiation role-play.

We brainstormed some everyday scenarios and decided to do a simple ‘problem roommate’ situation. Rebecca played the difficult roommate and I played the one who was trying to engage her and negotiate on a variety of issues. She played her role very well and was quite difficult to negotiate with, but I persisted and tried to apply all of the new skills I am learning: discussing interests rather than positions, asking questions to understand her opinion, acknowledging and rephrasing her perspective, and brainstorming for creative solutions and ways to “expand the pie.”

After several minutes of negotiation, Seisei stopped us and she and Jeff gave us some feedback and pointers. All in all, it was a hugely helpful exercise, as well as a lot of fun. Since the Insight partners and associates are working abroad so much this summer, I hope that we will have enough time this summer to continue using each other as resources in training and coaching.

Make it happen!

Patrick McWhinney, Insight’s co-founder and CEO, was unfortunately not around during the Finalist Weekend and we weren’t expecting him until next week, so it was a nice surprise when he popped into the office this morning. After introductions and mutual expressions of shock at each others’ existence, we all went out for lunch. It felt a little bit like the interview process all over again, but any nervousness quickly subsided. It was great to talk, bounce some ideas off of him and hear some of his thoughts and perspectives on the Fellowship. Patrick has such a contagious positive energy and his life motto seems to be “make it happen!”—which was encouraging to hear as we talked about some of the challenges we’re facing as we enter week 3 of the Fellowship.

The first weeks

My first week as an Insight Fellow was a blur of orientation meetings, office organization and logistics, setting up my apartment, and settling into life in Boston. It was a busy week of ‘idea lists,’ ‘wish lists,’ lots of preliminary research, and long lunch hours spent getting to know my colleagues.

And then the second week began and the initial honeymoon period waned. The real substantive work started, with my first group and individual coaching sessions, and an introductory fundraising meeting. It was exhausting but exhilarating, overwhelming but exciting. I dove right in, not quite knowing how well I could swim. I managed to keep my head above water and found a good pace, as I gradually realized how much I had to do over the summer. In just three months, I have to structure my fellowship year, secure placements abroad, kick off a serious fundraising drive, and learn a whole new skill set in negotiation, mediation, and effective communication.

That list represents just the first of the fellowship’s three main goals. Additionally, I have to make some humanitarian contribution to the community as well as pursue self-reflection and personal development. However, the pursuit of these other goals has been hindered because, of course, I managed to severely sprain my ankle the day before starting the fellowship. Being on crutches has put off most of the activities on my summer wish list, not to mention the basic challenge of mobility—it certainly does not help that I am living in a fifth floor walk-up apartment! It was a bit demoralizing at first, as though the first weeks of the fellowship were not challenging enough. I felt like Seabiscuit, a racehorse with, quite literally, an unfairly high handicap. However, my coworkers, roommates, friends, and fellow Fellows have been wonderfully supportive and patient. In fact, everyone, from strangers on the street to cab drivers, has been incredibly friendly and helpful. I am almost tempted to keep my crutches for a bit longer just so I can continue getting preferential treatment!

Also, another advantage of my limited mobility has been the time I have been able to spend with myself, reflecting on the past year and the year ahead, thinking about my personal and professional life goals, and beginning to focus on the personal development aspect of the fellowship. I have spent a lot of time on my roof deck, admiring the beautiful view of Boston, Cambridge, and the Charles River, while quietly absorbed in thought.

However, after two weeks, I am impatient to really get this summer started beyond my apartment and the office. I want to explore Boston, sail on the river, practice yoga, take chess lessons, start learning Arabic, go to museums etc… But I cannot force my recovery, because I need to be in good shape for this year. As Seisei (a fellow Fellow) said, I have used up all my bad luck for the fellowship year, so hopefully it should all be uphill from here!

The Insight Fellowship

Life following my return from India was quite busy and stressful. I got caught up in looking for a job, going to interviews, and endlessly networking, as well as working as a restaurant hostess and part-time in my father's office. Finally at the end of March, I somehow got my *dream* job: a 2007 Insight Fellowship :)

The Insight Fellowship is a year-long fellowship program sponsored by the Insight Collaborative, a non-profit mediation, training, and consulting firm. The program is designed for young professionals in the field of conflict management and its purpose is to study and promote effective conflict management, make international humanitarian contributions, and pursue personal development. The fellowship year is split up into four three-month long placements: one in Boston, one at the International Criminal Court in The Hague, and the other two are decided by the Fellows according to our interests and respective research themes (see below for a more official explanation). At this point, my year looks like this: summer in Boston, fall in The Hague, winter in Thailand and spring in Lebanon.

Over the course of the fellowship year, as part of the 'self-development' aspect of the fellowship, I will be posting weekly journals and pictures on the Insight website (as well as here on my personal blog) so you can follow my experiences of living and working abroad.

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Official explanation of the Fellowship:

The Insight Fellowship Program was created in 2005 to foster a community of global-minded individuals prepared to manage conflict effectively and contribute to their local, national, and international communities. The Insight philosophy is that the ability to make positive contributions is a function of the quality of one’s communication skills, capacity for empathy, and self-understanding. To promote these qualities, one-year Insight Fellowships are awarded to exceptional individuals to:

* Study and promote effective conflict management;
* Make international humanitarian contributions; and
* Pursue self-reflection and personal development.

The Fellowship includes a $25,000 USD expense allowance to support multiple placements totaling one year, typically in three to four month blocks.
The first three-month placement is at the Boston offices of Insight Collaborative and its affiliate, Insight Partners. During this tenure in Boston, Fellows advance their understanding of the theory and practice of effective negotiation, communication, and mediation; meet pivotal figures in the field; attend workshops; receive personalized coaching; and see first-hand how international conflict management professionals operate in the academic, non-profit, and for-profit sectors.

Fellows will spend one three-month placement at the International Criminal Court in The Hague, subject to the Court’s permission. The remaining two placements of the Fellowship are divided into foreign placements proposed by the Fellow.

Sacred Cows and Beach Hippies

Maybe because it took us so long to get to Goa, my sister and I had high expectations for our time there: white sand beaches, turquoise waters, fresh seafood, a plethora of sports and activities, and a great nightlife. We were expecting a meeting place for like-minded socially conscious backpackers, an Indian Zanzibar. Perhaps we were misguided by our guidebook, or perhaps we misunderstood what Goa was all about, but we found almost none of the above. Instead, we were confronted with the grim and grimy town of Anjuna.

The streets of Anjuna are lined with small tourist-trap road shacks selling identical cheap crafts and clothing. Small herds of humpbacked cows crowd around palm trees, seeking refuge from the hot midday sun. The paths leading down to the beach are crowded with street kids begging and young men simultaneously catcalling and selling drugs. Once you finally make it onto the beach, the assault continues. Hawkers selling fruit, massages, henna, bags, and cheap sunglasses stake their claims over sections of the beach. I can imagine them having territorial disputes, “these are my white people!” History sometimes reverses itself, bizarrely leaving power dynamics intact.
Children swarm around and literally pull you into their respective shops. But any resistance to their pestering is met with wide-eyed pleading and promises of low prices. They actually grab your arm or hand, a disconcerting violation of personal space that makes me want to both slap them and adopt them and take them all home with me. I can tell my sister is struggling with these same issues, as she sits next to me furiously scribbling in her notebook.

Most of the other tourists on the beach are of the crunchy hippie variety: leathery tan skin, a smattering of tattoos and piercings, the occasional dreadlock. They lay on the sand, baked and baking in the sun, no doubt recovering from their acid trip at previous evening’s rave.


I am so turned off by this disingenuous "drink til you drop dead" scene (see sign above) that I seek out other activities. I can't stand the beach and all of those kids, so I want to avoid it altogether. Instead, we take the time to actually visit Goa. We explore the old Portuguese cities, which include highlights such as a mini replica of the St. Peter's Basilica and lots of brightly painted houses reminiscent of the Bo-Kaap neighborhood in Cape Town. I also drag my sister along to a couple of amazing 8am yoga classes, which leave us both feeling centered and happy, but incredibly sore a few hours later.

Despite the daily annoyances and unfilled expectations, I'm glad we went to Goa. Not only to be able to plant the little flag and say "I have been there," but also because it stirred up a lot of challenging questions about the clashes between privilege and poverty, the potential for socially conscious and environmentally sustainable tourism, and ultimately the responsibility of us as travelers and global citizens.

My sister's thoughts on India

A perspective from my sister and travel companion:

As a small toddler reaches out to me, with a stub as a substitute for his arm, begging for money, on the beaches of Anjuna, Goa, I feel a sudden urge to write. I have only been in India for four days now, but it feels like so much longer. Arriving in India was startling, to say the least. After having been picked up at the Kochi airport, I got my first taste of the culture, watching for an hour and a half, behind the tinted windows of the taxi, feeling rather safe and excluded. Underneath the enormous commercial billboards, portraying a dreamy life unknown to the villagers, laid the life of Kerala. Skinny men talking and walking slowly, with their button-down shirts and mundus, were surrounded by stray cows, dogs and the occasional elephants. No woman walked alone, but families and friends gathered onto motorcycles in the dangerous and crowded streets. Little stands and broken-down buildings had signs in front of them for all sorts of merchandise, but they were empty, at the exception of some lonely shelves and a wrinkled woman, hunched over on a chair, squinting at the bright light of the sun and tired of the slow business. The odor of burnt trash fills the air, as the dusty ground is littered everywhere and no garbages are in sight.
Such things I took for granted previously- why weren't there any waste baskets around? And why were so many buildings run down? These seemed like easy problems to fix and at first, I was shocked by their presence. I had prepared myself psychologically for poverty and hunger before I arrived, but did not realize that such problems entailed others, such as filth, and other more general aspects, such as the attitude of the people here. They are eager to jump on tourists and attract business, but are simultaneously discouraged and tired of sitting in the hot sun waiting for it. India has the highest rate of child labor in the world, and it was not visible at first, but only hit me on the beaches of Goa. A girl, no older than seven, tugged on my elbow and stared into my eyes: "Come to my shop. I have no expensive blankets for you. Come, you promiss?" And here I stood, privileged enough to travel so and study in college in the US, when she has already experienced the world of work, without having hit puberty, not even had the time to play and laugh. It is difficult to walk through these streets in India, watching such people, not only because of the life they lead, but due to the way they approach you. Unlike any other country I've visited, the people here touch you. They have no problem coming up to you, tugging on your clothes and following you, and most of the time, there are about three women or small children begging simultaneously. Seeing is enough- to have to feel it rub against you is atrocious. Additionally, everything is cheap: forty cents for a rickshaw across town, three dollars for a shirt, not more than ten dollars for dinner. No wonder they beg for more, and sometimes, as I bargain with a sly smile on my face and Eve at my side, I feel like I'm in the wrong: what right do I have to demand less? These people live life as a struggle, I live it as a luxury.

A little about the different places I've been: Kochi is a port, not the capital of the southern state of Kerala, but the second biggest city. A port, always filled with the smell of fresh fish and Kerala spices. Ancient Chinese fishing nets line up along the edge of the water, followed by stands selling the fish, and finally followed by restaurants. A major part of Kochi is called "Jew Town", the neighborhood in which basically the entire Jewish population of India is concentrated. There is not very much poverty in Kochi and in the surrounding parts, but the divide between the rich and the poor still remains obvious. This became clear as we passed a sumptuous mansion in a rickshaw and the driver revealed to us that it belonged to an old governmental figure. Eve, well-informed as usual, asked: "communist?" -"Yes, yes," he replied, without catching the irony of the situation. This divide is not the only one I've noticed: another is the divide between the beauty of India and its metaphorical filth. On one of the days we spent in Kerala, Eve and I first went to an elephant training camp (for religious or cultural events), where we were submerged into the countryside of Kerala, uncrowded and beautiful. Our next stop was mesmerizing: we visited waterfalls about three hours outside of Kochi. Not only was the drive into the mountains beautiful, but it was heavenly. The natural surroundings left me speechless; it is difficult to describe such beauty... let me just say that the "oneness" Buddhism searches for with nature is found here.

Our next destination, Goa, where I have been for only one night, is the party scene in India, but is far from a typical one. It is the smallest state in India, where I am reporting from, on the beach, on notepad papers taken from the bartender. Here, trance, all-night partying, and marijuana are king. There are as many locals as there are hippies. The beach is far from idyllic; the water is beige and the beach is rocky and noisy, but it does reflect the culture here. As a topless female tourist passes, I tisk: she should be more aware of the conservative culture that thrives here.
It is a fascinatingly intriguing one; marked by many different things. Genuine openness and hospitality is one of them. Men who are friends hold hands here when they walk together; it is such a delightful and pleasing sight. Another is the deep belief in a religion that prizes a sort of deep quiet and slow tranquility and oneness with body, soul and nature. But this is paired with an exuberance: mostly, the people are marked by bright smiles and colorful clothing. It is truly like nothing else I have ever seen, and as it is visible, it is very difficult to describe all the feelings I've had and everything I've seen since I've been here....
And it's only been four days. Yet, as I have said, it feels like months: I feel fully ingrained in the culture. Luckily, it has not been that long and I have much more time left to explore and discover.

A little detour

“I’m sorry but the plane is having problems. We’ll try to organize a flight in the morning, but you will have to stay here tonight. We have hotel for you.”
“No no no, you don’t know! I am very important person and I must get to Bangalore tonight!”
“Just shut up and get the hotel. People are waiting!”
“You don’t tell me to shut up! You don’t know who I am!”
“You don’t cut the line damn right!”

And so the comedic squabble proceeds as such. Argumentative Indians crowd around the desk at the humid and mosquito-infested Trivandrum airport, heads wobbling and voices raised. I feel like I’ve been caught in the middle of the famous “you kicked my dog” prank call and part of me is looking around for hidden cameras.
But this is no candid camera show. This is the reality of traveling in India. My sister and I are booked on a flight from Cochin to Bangalore, which, for some reason, stops over in Kerala’s capital of Trivandrum. Not only is it nearly 1,000km out of the way, we are missing our connecting flight to Goa and we’re stuck here overnight, if not longer. At first we are frustrated, we are tired and hungry and getting impatient with the general incompetence that seems to permeate the most basic interactions. However, after witnessing this entertaining scene, all we can do is laugh, accept the fact that we are totally powerless in this situation, pull out the deck of cards, and go with the flow…

Kerala Spices

A week in South India passed by in a flash, feeling like infinitely longer. A week slipped by, sunny and ethereal, in the comfort of a stunning lakeside resort in the company of friends. A week of luxury and insouciance, catching glimpses of the 'real' India through the windows of air-conditioned chauffeured cars. A light memory, easily forgotten when lounging by the pool, sipping a cocktail served by a discreetly courteous waiter in a crisp bright white uniform.

The state of Kerala, like the Chile of the subcontinent, lays low and narrow along India's west coast. Kerala has the highest per capita GDP and the highest standard of living in India, but a few days of travelling after New Years revealed that the state is not immune to India's glaring poverty and huge social inequalities. However, Kerala has its own brand of poverty, a reserved rural poverty, the kind that floats along the backwaters and quietly slips into coconut groves, seemingly melting away under the oppressive afternoon sun.

The urban center of Cochin bustles along, crowded and semi-chaotic, polluted and humid. Despite nearly 2 million people in the urban agglomeration, the city is not obtrusively loud and brash. In fact, Cochin, like the rest of Kerala, felt almost quiet. The normal daytime soundtrack--feet scuffling along cracked concrete sidewalks, strangers making small talk while waiting for overcrowded buses, groups of schoolgirls gossiping on their way home- is punctuated only by an intermittent and unique horn symphony; whimsically musical truck horns, the nasal beeps of auto rickshaws, the exasperated honk of a tired taxi driver.

The old city, known as Fort Cochin, has the feel of a touristy fishing village. Murders of crows caw loudly, calling out to friends perched on nearby palm trees. They mirror the beach hawkers who aggressively call out to tourists to pawn shoddily made crafts and curios. Children play cricket and football on grassy expanses under the patchy shade of centuries-old gnarly trees. Auto rickshaws half-heartedly call out to tourists, secretly hoping the prospective clients will ignore them so they can lie on backseats and nap in the shade. Cows graze on dry grass and munch on the garbage strewn along the streets. They saunter along slowly, like a quietly confused drunk weaving home at dawn. Young women gossip in Malayalam, the honeysweet syllables curling off their tongues like the hennalike curves of the unique Malayali script. If they caught me admiring their saris or peeking at their handiwork, they would shyly duck out of view behind doorways and folds of bright silk.

But away from the tourist sights in Fort Cochin, a familiar variety of poverty appears. Cheerfully colored homes are masks. The stained and chipped paint partly reveals the despair within. Old men, barely clothed in their paper-thin off-white mundus, lay folded on the sidewalk. Spindly once-loved ragdolls, abandoned and tossed aside, landing at impossible angles, the soursweet smell of their sweat mingling with day-old stale curries. Putrid urban slush, like stickysweet rice pudding or dark tree sap, dribbles thickly along the edges of old sewage canals.

But I can't help but see the underlying beauty. The bright colored gold-trimmed saris, the chocolate eyes trimmed with long lashes, the pastel sunsets... Life floating along slowly, languidly, quietly, like a broken coconut shell caught in the rivergrass.



More soon from India... With love and best wishes for 2007!!

It feels strange to be back.

Well after a very long 27 hours of travelling, during which I managed to catch a fairly nasty cold, I finally got home yesterday. I'm currently hiding up at my country house, unpacking and preparing myself to venture into the city. After nearly 7 months in East Africa, it feels strange to be back in the US. First of all, there are far too many white people and everyone is driving on the wrong side of the road. Secondly, the world just seems so quiet and tame. Nobody is walking anywhere while balancing large bundles on their heads, there's no livestock spilling into the streets, the sidewalks are so clean and rubbish-free, there are traffic lights, the power is on all the time!
And it's winter here. No snow yet, but it won't be long in coming... By 5:15, the sky is pitch black and there are almost no sounds, save the passing car that sweeps by on the perfectly smooth paved road. No roosters, no children, no distant sounds of music.
This afternoon I was exhausted and just gave up trying to do anything, the early darkness took me over and physically depressed me. I curled up in front of the fireplace with some hot cocoa and gazed down at the pekoe tattoo on my ankle... And to think, one week ago I was laying on the beach in Kendwa... I do miss TZ already, but it feels good to be home too, even if it does take a little while to get readjusted to 'civilization' :-)