Week 5: Work, work, work

Alright, wonk friends. This post is going to be highly nerdy, with my DC and IR friends in mind. It is also dedicated to Allison Shean and Esther Salazar, for being awesome MC ladies that have taught me so much about XLS coding, nerdy M&E shenanigans, and life over the past few months. Enjoy.

With four weeks of work under my belt here in Ethiopia, I think it’s high time I tell you all what it is exactly I’ve been up to. My title is “Learning and Knowledge Management Intern.” This title spans two major departments at Mercy Corps—Research and Learning and Monitoring, Evaluation, and Learning (I’m learning SO MUCH!!).

The Research and Learning Department receives funding from a variety of sources to do research all over the world, sometimes directly linked to Mercy Corps programming, other times a bit more tangential, but always on issues at the forefront of international humanitarian assistance and development. When I joined the Policy & Advocacy team at Mercy Corps in January, Keith Proctor (who bridges the PA and Research departments) was wrapping up a fantastic research piece called “Youth and Consequences,” which sought to understand why it is that young people join extremist groups. It was exciting to get to see that piece in some of the late stages of production, as well as its rollout this spring. Our Director of Research and Learning, Jon Kurtz, did a wonderful piece of research here in Ethiopia a few years ago—it’s called “From Conflict to Coping,” and well worth the read. Allison Shean, a research officer who is based in DC and who’s been of invaluable assistance to me in preparing for this position, did a very cool report called “Rethinking Resilience” on gender and resilience in Africa’s Sahel—another fascinating piece that’s become ubiquitous in MC offices and an essential resource for resilience programming.

Mercy Corps received funding in 2012 to do a pair of studies in Uganda and Ethiopia that look at whether certain of our programs across a variety of topics contribute to household and community resilience (come to my presentation in DC this fall—I’ll go into more detail on this survey then). The Ethiopia baseline portion of the study was completed in 2013; I’m conducting the endline. The survey tool is one of the coolest things I’ve ever gotten to work on. It’s brought together so many themes from my first year of Georgetown classes, and the most interesting parts of my last two internships (again, see me in September for more detail). I’ve spent the last two months coding the survey into XLS (no small feat, if I dare say so myself). We’re now in the process of uploading it to a server and downloading it onto tablets, which we’ll use to administer the survey. My scope of work says I'm administering the survey, but I have the invaluable support of several Mercy Corps staffers I got to work with the last time I was in the south. I’m working with a team of four supervisors, each of whom will supervise a team of three enumerators, who are mostly university instructors. Tomorrow I start training them; then, they’ll go out into three different woredas (a large county-sized regional division) and visit households that were interviewed for the baseline survey in over 10 kebeles (very small village divisions). I’m then responsible for cleaning the data, checking it to make sure it’s all good quality, and preparing it for analysis by our technical consultants. This is the quantitative portion of the study; our supervisors will also be conducting semi-structured interviews with community members to add a narrative piece to the data. I’ll be helping to analyze and report on this data back in DC.

MEL at Mercy Corps is a bit different—while there is a headquarters MEL department and there are some organizational standards for MEL, project- and country-level staff are really essential for designing and implementing monitoring and evaluation plans for MC projects around the world. They are tasked with understanding the communities Mercy Corps serves, and therefore they have the best sense of how to identify entry points for impact and tracking that impact over time. If you’re less of a wonk and therefore not particularly familiar with the granting process of NGOs like Mercy Corps, this is the quick version: grant-making organizations, corporations, or agencies (here is USAID’s process, for example) will put out a solicitation (a “request for applications” or something like that) describing the sort of project they would like to fund, with detailed requirements for agencies applying. These agencies then assemble a proposal, and the grant-makers will decide which of the applicants has put forward the strongest project proposal, and award the grant accordingly. One of the application components is monitoring and evaluation (M&E), which describes how the agency will track its progress on the proposed project, and how it will report on its progress to the grant-makers. There are a bunch of tools used to monitor and evaluate projects; some combination of qualitative (surveys and interviews) and quantitative (LOTS of numbers tracking money, beneficiaries, milk, goats, you name it).

At the moment, the Mercy Corps Ethiopia office is in the process of launching a national-level M&E system that will allow all projects from here on out to use the same tools for data collection, making the M&E process much more streamlined. I’ve been supporting our national level team in finalizing various components of this new system. It’s very interesting to see what’s common across all projects—you have to be very clear about your problem statement, explaining why this project needs to be done; about your strategic objectives, which try to address the issue at hand; about who you’re trying to reach, and why they are the targeted beneficiaries, rather than someone else. What’s probably much more interesting than writing these M&E forms is seeing the answers come in…sadly I’ll be out of here by the time they start rolling in, but the standardized system will allow Mercy Corps Ethiopia to look at individual projects as well as the system as a whole and see whether  they’re meeting targets and how they're making change.

In addition to this broader, more technical aspect of M&E, I’m also getting to do an exciting, meaty piece of it in the field. I spent my second week in Ethiopia in “the field” following our CHELBI team around to several capacity-building workshops, visiting areas of land that have been rehabilitated through the program, and fording rivers to visit nurseries that produce trees for these rehabilitated areas and for peoples’ farms. Over the next few weeks I’m writing a series of case studies for the office at USAID that funds this program to look at some intricate aspects of the program—my favorite of these is the youth part. It was so fun and fascinating to sit with the kebele youth as they discussed climate change, their natural resource needs, and what they can do in their communities to ensure a bright future for themselves and their families.

Ok, I think I’ve gone on significantly longer than is really acceptable for a blog. I’m back in Arba Minch and super excited for the next three fieldwork weeks of training and data collection. I’ll try to keep Facebook filled with photo updates, and obviously keep an eye on Instagram too. The moment I stepped off the plane here I felt elated to be back, and I can’t wait for this survey process to finally begin.

Week 2: "The Field" and a guest blogger

With Rachel at Georgetown.

This week, I've asked a close friend and another GU fellow and Mercy Corps intern, Rachel Kuykendall, to allow me to share some of her words here. I am privileged to have friends who have been simply invaluable over the past two and a half weeks, supporting me in various ways from airport rides to late-night Skype calls. While this experience is incredibly rewarding, it also has its challenges, and the compassion my friends have shown me has felt like a lifeline as I face these challenges. I cannot thank you all enough for your generosity of heart and spirit.

My first week being in "the field" has been a great high point but it's also been filled with difficult experiences and concerns. Among these, the phrase "field work" has been bothering me a lot. The morning, Rachel send me a message that articulated some of the obstacles, anxieties, and delights of working in the "world's toughest places" more clearly than my overwhelmed mind has been capable of, and she's kind enough to let me share that message here. I've included some pictures of my workplace this week, and I think they help capture some of those beautiful and painful feelings and moments Rachel talks about.

Dereje, an assistant project officer for CHELBI, on site in 

Kilicho. His shirt bears Mercy Corps' slogan: "Saving and

improving lives in the world's toughest places." 

Photo: Mercy Corps

***

"Morning Sunshine! Happy Friday, you are almost finished with your first official field visit! (I almost said reality visit instead but I don't like that either. We need to think of something that underscores the vulnerability of the communities we work with in a way that distinguishes a "field visit" from office work while not belittling the experiences of the people we are here for.) But either way, you are almost done!  

Youth participate in a training on environmental awareness and

natural resource management in Kilicho kebele, Burji woreda, 

SNNP region, Ethiopia. Photo: Mercy Corps

I know we were both drawn to Mercy Corps for similar reasons, but I also know it's difficult (impossible) to learn how hard it really is going to be once you actually get into the "field" for the first time. It's hard because it's a reminder of how privileged we really are back home, it's hard because we know to at least some extent our home (the U.S. as a whole) probably played some hand in either creating the vulnerable community or exploiting them at some point which leads to a little bit of guilt that just doesn't go away (maybe that's just me), and it's hard because as beautiful as it is to see the tangible change our organization is making on the ground, we also see how much there is left to be done... And it's terrifying.

Me and Hassan, the Kilicho kebele manager.

He's been invaluable in supporting and helping

to facilitate Mercy Corps' natural resource

management program in his community.

So where does that leave us? Two fellows in struggling parts of the world that are trying to learn the ropes of what will hopefully be a career full of positively impacting people all over the world. It might sound cheesy but I'm starting to realize that more than anything, being an intern in the field is an inspiration to the communities we work with—it shows community members that the world has not forgot about them and that new generations are learning about their struggle and are coming from around the world to try to help alleviate it. But still where does that leave us? Trying to be a source of inspiration when each day we turn off the lights and climb into an unfamiliar bed to be overcome with stress and anxiety—but about what? At the end of the day the things eating at us are laughable in comparison to the struggles of those we traveled across the world to meet and help. It reminds us that solitude is a lost art, and that it will break us if we let it—but we won't.

Children in Kilicho kebele, Burji woreda, SNNP region, 

Ethiopia. Photo: Mercy Corps

I've found myself repeating the phrase "deconstruct the house ego built" a lot. (From an incredible book called "awakening the Buddha within,") The "house" in this case being all of the senses of security and self-esteem we are used to. But because we are under new skies now, and we need to learn to love them the same way we love and are comfortable being at home. Because at the end of the day, it's the same sky. We are just interacting with it under new circumstances, new climates, new relationships, and it's a lot at once. "A traveler without observation is a bird without wings." Think of “deconstructing ego’s house” as a process of observation. Naturally when we travel and go new places we observe the pretty things, the scenery and the sunsets, the good food, the cultural differences that we wish America had, but we tend to either force ourselves to look away from, or judge, or critique etc. the things that might not be as pretty.

For example how shockingly dirty Amman is. But the deconstruction of that thought would be: why does the filth make me uncomfortable/angry? It's because I'm used to (comparably) cleaner streets. Why are D.C.’s streets cleaner? As much as I complain about our government, at least our public service provision is relatively efficient. Why isn't Jordan's service provision efficient? Generations of refugee influxes from around the region mean that the country is surviving on foreign aid that is more prone to help the refugees than the actual Jordanians. And now all of the sudden I feel bad for judging the dirty streets. It's a sobering process, but it helps you to break down what and why certain things are harder than others.

View of the Rift Valley, Konso, SNNP region, Ethiopia

So observe everything. Not just the sunsets and the sceneries, but the things that trigger anger or disgust or even sadness. Traveling is as much about learning who you are as it is about learning to see the world beyond your front door. You are doing incredible things, and our journeys have only just started. Literally just started. There will be a lot more hard days, but turn them into days of self-growth. The trickiest part of the rest of our lives will be remembering to balance—we can only help the people that need it most if we also remember to take care of ourselves. So treat yoself, ground yourself, and love yourself. Because I do, Justin does, your family does, Ethiopia does, and the rest of the world will soon enough."

Weekend 2: Into the Rift Valley

Arba Minch is a breathtakingly beautiful place. The flight in drops low over Lake Abaya, the reddish waters hiding its monstrous crocodiles of legendary size. In the near distance is shimmering-clear Lake Chamo (imagine a “ch” with an umlaut), separated from Abaya by “God’s bridge,” a ridge-like, thickly forested hill that seals off the two bodies of water from one another. Chamo reflects the escarpment that rises up to meet the mountains behind it. The city spreads out along the two lakes, divided also into two—the downtown Sikela and its sister Secha, which sits a couple miles up the hill. Behind the town the Guge Mountains ascend again into the clouds, saluting their cousins across the lakes.

It was up these mountains that we climbed, the Land Rover making light work of the rocky dirt road. Mules trotted down the road laden with cabbages, many of their tenders staring curiously while the animals frantically avoided the truck. As we drove, I felt breathless—the view of the lakes, the twin towns, and their mountain backdrop were too much to take in. And at the same time, the air felt so clean and fresh I couldn’t breathe it in fast enough.

I immediately fell in love with this place. I didn’t know how eager I’d been to escape Addis Ababa until I stepped off the plane in the teeny tiny Arba Minch airport, and I was accosted—as if by an old friend—by the bright humidity and luscious greenery. It is everything that Addis is not—clean, fresh, green, and wide open. The splendor of the landscape is almost too much to absorb. I am so much reminded of Nakuru; the vastness of the lakes, the neighboring escarpments, the town that’s just big enough—these parts of the Rift Valley are remarkably similar.

I spent the afternoon with Yisehak, the logistics and administrative guru of the Mercy Corps field office here. He showed me the town—the university with its model farm and irrigation system; the condominiums under construction; the banana and mango trees that carpet the landscape near the lakes; the rivers where auto-rickshaw drivers were bathing themselves and their vehicles; the Mercy

Corps office and its goat-neighbor that greeted me with enthusiastic bleats. Yisehak is from Arba Minch, and completed his education here; he says he loves this part of the country more than any other. At 7 or 8 pm, he told me, he loves to walk the hills and hear such peaceful silence—only the wind is audible. I asked how people get up into the mountains. There’s a road, he said—let me show you. That was when we climbed, passing the mules and their men coming down from the mountain’s homesteads. From the top, you could hear the laughter of people in town, shrieks of children playing in the valley. We stood for a long time.

We had dinner at the Paradise Lodge. It’s the nicest hotel in town, but out of budget for an NGO to put up its visiting staff. Half of the hotel has been closed off to the public, and it’s from that side that American men in fatigues saunter over to the restaurant. The US military has an air base here, tucked conveniently along side the airport that’s used once a day for flight to and from Addis. The military has bought out half the hotel for the duration of its time here. Ethiopia is solidly part of the Horn of Africa; use your imagination to figure out what the base is doing here. Anyway, dinner was wonderful. The rice and vegetables were probably once frozen, but I hardly noticed—the fish was fresh out of the lake, and it came to me still sizzling.

I’m under the mosquito net now; this part of the country has malarial tendencies. This net, perhaps, feels more like home than anything else. I’m tricking myself, like I did when I was 12, into believing the net is my princess bed—a canopy to keep me feeling safe and regal.

This place feels like Africa as I knew it. And it’s making me feel more homesick than ever.

Week 1: There's a tortoise in my back yard

I’m wrapping up my first week in the Mercy Corps office here in Addis, and it’s already been such an adventure! I want to rewind a bit and share what I’ve been up to since my arrival here.

I landed in Addis Ababa just as May was drawing to a close after two (unnecessarily frantic on my part) days at the Ethiopian Embassy in DC and 16 flight hours surrounded by small children. It’s been eight years since I lived in East Africa, and at that point in my life my mother, the queen of planning and organization, was in charge of flights, visas, and other expensive and complex logistical arrangements. This has been a great learning experience for me both in the process of planning a trip of this scale and practicing my yogic breathing when I get nervous about how things are going. See, I ended up here on time and everything went smoothly; nothing to worry about.

From the moment we touched down in Addis, so many memories and emotions started flooding back. Ethiopia is in many ways radically different from Kenya, which I love; but there were so many small things that reminded me of home, from the jaundiced airport lighting to the heavy smell of the highland air just before the rain starts. In the last week before I left, I was starting to get nervous about my ability to live on my own in Africa (i.e., sans superhuman mom), but the feeling that I’m not too far from home has helped a lot.

After a weekend spent adjusting my circadian rhythm—which has involved not only the time change but also the fact that it’s light for precisely 12 hours here—and having a lovely backyard BBQ with colleagues from Mercy Corps’ PRIME project, it was time to dive right into work.

The Mercy Corps Ethiopia team put together a scope of work that mandated a hit-the-ground-running start, and I’ve not been disappointed. This week has been filled with the normal orientation activities you would expect, but there has also been a lot of substantive work already.  My work is primarily related to monitoring and evaluation.  Mercy Corps, like most relief and development agencies, puts a lot of stock in making sure that its programs are meeting their goals, and to see where improvements can and should be made.

Big donor governments like the US Agency for International Development (USAID) or the UK’s Department for International Development (DfID) often fund Mercy Corps projects, and these governmental agencies typically have specific reporting requirements for implementing organizations. The project I’m assigned to is called CHELBI (short for “Communities Helping their Environment and Land by Bridging Interests,” and a nod to the Chelbi watershed in which the project is located), and it deals primarily with natural resource management (NRM) in one of the most lush and diverse areas of the country—the Southern Nations, Nationalities, and Peoples' Region (SNNPR).  It’s funded by USAID, and I’ll be working on two reports for the donors assessing the impact of these Mercy Corps NRM activities in that region. I’m hoping to head to Arba Minch, where the program is based, in the next week to start that research. While I’m enjoying Addis, I’m very excited to get out to the field!

I’ve come to realize that eating lunch at the restaurants around the office, in a neighborhood called Piazza, is significantly more affordable than packing a lunch…we’re not in Washington anymore, Toto! There’s a great restaurant just a couple minutes from the office that serves wonderful Ethiopian food (which, if you haven’t tried, is a MUST). Doro tibs (chicken sautéed with veggies in a typical Ethiopian sauce) and wat are two of my favorites—particularly mesir wat, a spicy lentil dish (that I could eat by the bucket) served with injera bread. Yesterday two of my Ethiopian colleagues brought me to Tomoca Coffee, a coffee shop that serves one of Ethiopia’s oldest and most famous brands of coffee. It was so good. It’s brewed much stronger than we weak Americans usually go for and served in a small glass. I opted for the mocha version with plenty of milk and sugar. It was life-changing.

At the end of the workday, I’ve been enjoying relaxing in the very lovely house and gardens of the Mercy Corps staff member who is hosting me. At the moment he’s in the field, so the house gets pretty quiet in the evenings…it’s just the tortoise and me. 

I’ve really enjoyed catching up over Skype with two of my fellow fellows who are on the same time zone as myself—Rachel is in Amman, Jordan, also interning for Mercy Corps, and Meredith* is in Nairobi, Kenya with Catholic Relief Services (check out their blogs!). It is so exciting to hear what they’ve been up to and share some of the challenges and rewards of venturing off on these wonderful and wild experiences. It’s a strange feeling when almost everyone you know is asleep for most of your day, so when I get G-chat messages from Rachel and Meredith checking in on me, I feel a bit closer to home. Thank goodness for the Internet!

I’m signing off for now, but my next post will have updates from the field!

*NB: Meredith has given consent to reference her in this blog only if I mention that her eyes look just as beautiful over Skype as they do in person.