I dreamt a lot last night, take that for eating roast duck just before bed!
Update: the song for this (not in the dream, but it captures the zeitgeist): Don’t Take the Money by the Bleachers:
I dreamt I was walking the dogs – Tome and Bonzo – in the mountains (I guess this looked like Cape Town, the hills I know in Sao Miguel doesn’t look like that). It started raining hard, quickly, so we took shelter under a rock and discovered a cave. When I panned my torch, it showed a four person working area, very beautifully laid out, and people working there (now there was decent ambient light, lol, dreams). One tall, young, athletic, attractive guy jumped up to meet me, I guess he recognised me? And eagerly started showing me around. Going from a relaxed walk with the dogs to being a VIP was jarring. He took me to the back through a corridor, where we saw a large, stunningly beautiful conference arena, with breakout spaces for workshopping or networking or whatever. It was very chic and very much in the style of the TED conference.
Indeed, as the tour proceeded, it become clear this was TEDxAzores. And he wanted me to join the team. As we made it back to the entrance, it was no longer the modest four person working area, but a sprawling reception area with bookshops and activities and people bustling about, clearly with the TEDx vibes, the swag and the beautiful bags and design and complimentary goodies. I had a look at the gifts for sale (I think I was tasked to wait for someone? I think he handed me over to his assistants, and from here on all the people I spoke to were women, the real people keeping the show running). I wanted crafts that I could assemble, continuing my waking obsession with miniature house kits and papercrafts. But the things on offer were all “interactive” – pop-up books and so on, delivered to you as a product for you to play with, within the defined boundaries of what is available. I felt stymied, like you were allowed to pretend to be creative and hip and cool, but not really be it. Someone made fun of my cotton dress that was clearly handmade. I scoffed and said it was hemp, but it stung a little. They asked me to wear shoes (ostensibly because the floor had some small glass shards which it clearly didn’t have); I refused.
The assistants, no-nonsense middle aged women, explained the value I would bring, my environmental expertise, my previous experience with TEDx … and really pushed that I should join. They wanted me to start immediately. I would have to move closer to town, Nordeste was too rural. They’ll help with the move.
A rich Belgian man came to talk to me about remuneration. It was vague, he didn’t want to give a number for a salary but he was willing to compensate by replacing whatever I was “giving up”. I didn’t tell him, but my mind was spinning, because I was working, yes, but working without income. Money would be nice. How much money? What was I worth? What would he pay? But at what cost to me? I felt uncomfortable.
At some point the young guy rushed past, now in gym gear and all sweaty after I assume having gone for a run (The luxury of free time. The confidence!). He smiled encouragingly and yelled in passing “I want you in by Monday!” Like it was a done deal.
Somewhere along the line I realised I lost the dogs, and Bonzo is scared of people, he won’t be here. I abandoned the venue and went to look for them, which took me on a paved, signposted as 34km walk to Lagoa (bizarre but I assume this is because the Romeiros recently happened and they walk 36km a day on average). And I wondered if I should take the job. It felt like a betrayal.
Looking for the dogs and getting downhill to Lagoa (which was more in the direction of Ribeira Grande, actually) I had to navigate I guess salmon passages? They looked like those “flow forms” for water treatment, stone constructions that look like hearts. I’ve always thought those are pretty but impractical. When I got there they were dry and there were no people around. I hesitated, should I go back and take the job? But then the water started flowing and many people showed up, I guess the event was over and people were leaving the building or something. There were eels everywhere and they were biting me. Not serious, but inconvenient. I was annoyed that my hesitance led to this mess.
I think I woke up and then fell asleep again. We were back at the cave / TED centre, and my friend was there too. I showed her around. There was a plant sale? I was still thinking of taking the job. The assistant women didn’t hassle me, but they looked at me with a hopefully encouraging smile when we passed each other. I asked someone if Carol Gilligan was here. They said yes but she is not presenting, she presented in Edinburgh last year. I spotted a programme and the title had “TED” and “Qatar” on the cover and suddenly it all made sense. Qatar is currently a no-go because of the Iran thing (I think, anyway). This ambitious young man saw an opportunity and took it. He brought this huge event (TED events are way bigger than TEDx) to the Azores, bit off more than he can chew, saw me and thought, this woman can help fix my mess.
But so, will I? I saw Carol speaking to people, and momentarily got excited. She was here! I overheard her speaking to someone that she was meant to have left for home this morning but the flights were delayed. They asked her to present something on behalf of some other presenter who couldn’t be here. She started scratching out mathematical equations on the blackboard, looking at the academic article that was handed to her, and it was clear she didn’t know what was going on – she’s not a mathematician, after all, and this was super advanced stuff.
I’m not sure, but I think this whole mess made me realise, get the fuck out, this is stupid. I woke up tired and sad.
On waking, I had to capture reflections from a really good theory and research design meeting we had yesterday for AquaSavvy. I had to go fetch the 2011 stuff as examples of “Different views of water data” – and the For Love of Water song we created made me ugly cry for a bit. It’s a meh song, it’s too sweet and naive and whiny. But I remembered that back then I believed in something. I believed we could change things.
For AquaSavvy we are concerned with challenging underlying assumptions to lead to new perspectives, uncover unrealised potential. It’s operationalising approaches and really building on my experiences over the past decade or more in Cape Town. But I feel sad. I don’t believe we can make a positive change. I think we’re fucked. And I wonder how to move forward when you feel like that.
I guess, it’s about building the good ruins. Or, building for a specific target market.
When I was in South Africa last month, we had breakfast at !Khwa Ttu, and they had a heritage centre museum. One poster talked about that at some point, there may have been only 600 people in the world.
(OK it was probably closer to 10 000 or even 40 000 but don’t let a big number get in the way of the story).
The text says:
“Shortly after Homo sapiens appeared, harsh climatic conditions nearly extinguished our species. DNA studies of modern-day people indicate that our distant ancestors underwent a dramatic population decline. Scientists lack precise timeline for these events, but around 195,000 years ago the planet entered a long glacial stage that lasted until roughly 123,000 years ago and population numbers declined to between about 10,000 to 600 people.
Scientists suggest that climate was a driver of human evolution. People either perished or they adapted and survived. The ability to make specialised tools enabled adaptability: the key to humanity’s survival.“
So, I guess, I need to remember, we’re building for that 600 (or 10 000 to 40 000) people. The ones who adapted and survived. The ones who developed their ability to make specialised tools that enabled adaptability: the key to humanity’s survival.
I am building for the people who listened to me on the radio, who experimented. The lady who did a careful study on how emptying her urine on the ground meant that when the rains came the urine-soaked ground absorbed more rain, cracked and hardened less, recovered faster. The horticulturalists who questioned the received wisdom and carefully navigated the different approaches. The people who were willing to try composting toilets. The people whose showering and water-related habits changed permanently, even after the drought.