Win-win diplomacy

Old people have something intriguing about them. It is as if every wrinkle has a story that formed it, and every hair a life experience that coloured it grey. Most of the times, I simply admire the history they embody, while imagining what their lives must have been like and which mesmerising stories they carry with them. Sometimes, though, I seek engagement, to learn about their lives, to listen to their memories, and to share some happiness. After all, a lesson learnt now might save you the trouble of missing the mark when you get to face it later on.

That's how I ended up having lunch with UNDP Ecuador's outgoing Resident Coordinator and Country Director, whose retirement (not to be mistaken with idle leasure time) awaits him in but a few months time at his beach-front house in Panama. A lifetime of experience within the UN system made for some good conversation and useful career tips, which I'm happy to share here.

Source: Oxford Leadership Academy

As for your career, whichever direction it may take, the above image pretty much sums it up. Find something that you are passionate about, that you love doing. Make sure you do it well enough so that people are willing to pay for it. If, on top of that, this something of yours happens to be something people need, then you've got yourself a dream ticket. Things rarely come that easy, though. Therefore, plan ahead: start thinking now about the spot in which you'd like to see yourself working in say 5, 10 or 20 years; check out job vacancies that match that very profile to see which road to take to gather the required experience and skills; and watch your own back: no one will take care of your career but yourself, no matter how lofty, noble and high-spirited the organisation you work for presents itself to be.

When asked about his rule of thumb for multilateral diplomatic settings, he was very affirmative: make sure that your actions offer a win-win solution for all parties involved. You won't make nor keep any friends by getting what you want at their expense or by critising without offering alternative solutions. In a world of connections, networks of success are built through win-win diplomacy. Thus, think twice before saying or acting, strike the right balance between content and form, and always make sure to have a trump card to put on the table.

A last piece of advice from this social media savvy, TED-talks aficionado: always save some part of your earnings for whatever unexpected calamity may hit your path, or for a tranquil retirement. Not that he will rest on his laurels, of course: consultancies and teaching will fill up much of the years to come, to pay the bills and take care of his family. After all, that's how he had envisaged his 80th birthday (still some time away, though): surrounded by his family and friends.

Bathroom with a view

Three months into my stay in Ecuador, I figured it would be nice to give you an insight into life at 2,800m. I inherited the room of a friend of mine, in the apartment of an Ecuadorian guy in the historical centre of Quito. Some of the big advantages of this apartment are its character and that of the condominium (as opposed to living in a concrete building, where you know that people six floors up and down live in exactly the same apartment as you do), the cobbled streets with their colonial-era houses and a gamut of small shops, the panoramic view over Quito on my way to work, and the daily exercise from having to walk four steep blocks uphill to get home. Oh, and did I mention the view from the bathroom?

Huasipichay (housewarming) in my new apartment

My street, running down all the way into the convent of St. Francis

Panoramic view over the historical centre on my way to work

 Bathroom with a view (on the Basilica and St. John's monastery)

My first preoccupation in Quito was to get the hang of city and how to move around here. The centre is extremely well connected with the rest of town through public transport, and (cheap) taxis are abundant. Quite rapidly I stumbled onto some nice people, expats and locals, with whom I play football and basketball on a weekly basis. Ecuador being relatively small, we often go on a trip in the weekend to contrast the hectic city-life. And if not, a nice stroll in the centre is always a relaxing way to spend the afternoon.

The procession on Holy Friday is as good an occasion as any other to sell some soap bubbles

Stuck at 5,400m due to bad weather conditions during our ascent of the Cotopaxi

Crazy fun at the Green Waterfall (Cascasda Verde)

With so much activities at hand, it took me a while to sort out my room - for it had only come with a mattress. A few trips down to the furniture shops of Santa Clara, the helpful hand of our neighbour carpenter and a Sunday afternoon stroll along the local painters' exhibitions at Parque El Ejido gave my room the touch it needed to feel more at home in my new home. Latin America being Ikea-free zone, it's been quite a new experience to have had some of that stuff custom-made, like my desk and leisure pillows.

My room, with a view on the Cayambe...

... and a comfy wobbly chair

As for my new job, I have been lucky to land into a great team of Ecuadorians, an energetic Italian lady and a charismatic Cuban boss. This week off to my first field mission and trying to get a regional project started together with Bolivia -  busy times. And boy, what a view do I have from my office. That's right, envy me!

View from my office at the 10th floor

Juan Montalvo's good ruler

Ok, I promise, I will stop writing about this subject for some time now, but it was just too much of a coincidence yesterday night, when I was reading a chapter in The Ecuador Reader by Juan Montalvo, a 19th century writer from Ecuador, and one of Latin America's greatest literary minds. In his essay On the Spirit of Association, he writes the following two passages which struck me in the light of recent events:

The good ruler has a clear conscience and does not lift his head in fear when he hears that a certain number of people have gathered together.

The government that sees only danger in whatever occurs in the Republic is a Polyphemus, having only one eye: a cruel and villainous giant, he seizes his guests and devours them; a formidable son of the earth, he makes all tremble. But no one lets pass the opportunity to throw a stone at him and, when the moment comes, to deprive him of his sight.

Juan Montalvo, detractor and wise insulter (source)

Ecuadorian democracy in action

As promised, Correa v El Universo was to be continued. In fact, already the week after the Supreme Court's ruling in the case, president Correa invited the whole crême de la crême of the international diplomatic community present in Quito, to assist his pardoning of the condemned directors and editorialist, as well as the authors of the book El gran hermano. The Ecuadorians, the actual target audience in this case of their democratic system and press freedom, were invited to watch the screening of Correa's speech outside the presidential palace.



Mostly, it was a self-congratulatory speech, highlighting the righteousness of his own position and pointing out the lack of journalistic ethos of the international media, who hadn't bothered asking him for his version of the facts when reporting on the Court's ruling. At the very end of his speech, Correa took an interesting turn countering the accusations of disrespecting press freedom and freedom of expression. "Our answer," he says, "are the kids going to Millennium schools, disabled people accessing well-functioning health care facilities, and first class highways connecting our cities." In short, socio-economic well-being trumps democratic principles, an argument not unfamiliar with some other rulers across the globe. (Did I hear you say Paul Kagame or Lee Kuan Yew?)

In the weeks following this mediatic show, huge billboards in support of the president and his policies appeared across those very same highways (paid for with public money, needless to say). Conveniently, this coincided with the start of a huge march of indigenous peoples in defense of water, protesting against the reckless public policy to promote huge mining investments across the Andes. Even before the protesters made it to Quito, Correa didn't leave an opportunity go by without disqualifying the protesters' motives and arguments, arguing that the march has blatantly failed.

As the protesters were about to march into the capital, the president tried to cut their roads of access and means of transport. In the meantime, he started rallying his own supporters with the same buses he forbid the indigenous people to use to enter Quito. From all over the country thousands of pro-Correa protesters marched to his palace to express their support for his government. Ironically, if these people already knew why they were in Quito (except for the free transport, food and drinks, that is), most answered quite vehemently that they were here "to protect our democracy".

Yes, the very same democracy that their star had put to the second stage just a few weeks earlier. In defense of a democracy that delegitimises and impedes the exercise of the constitutional rights of its citizens to gather, use public roads and present individual or collective protests and proposal to the competent authorities. A democratic system in which a governor sends a letter to the president with the names of public servants who did not attend the pro-Correa protests, recommending he shows them the door. Shouldn't this democracy rather open the debate on how to finance social progress (c.q. whether or not mining is the most adequate economic policy to generate sustainable economic growth) in the face of the constitutional rights granted to nature?

Overwhelming history at the sound of a theorbo

It's Semana Santa, and Quito has a wonderful way of celebrating this week before Easter. At several sacred and less sacred locations in the city centre, top notch artists are performing several performances as part of the XI Festival de Música Sacra. Here's to living in the historical centre! I just have to walk a few blocks down the road to enjoy these musical delights. And the best part is, it's all for free!

The other night, I attended a performance of the Colombian 'early music ensemble' Musica Ficta, in the magical Iglesia de la Compañía, just a block down the road from the presidential palace. This baroque ensemble is renowned for playing Hispano-American baroque music, with scores dug up from archives in Bogotá, Quito, Cusco and other cultural centres of the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries. By default, these historical notes beg for equally historical instruments such as the baroque guitar, the vihuela, the shawm, the dulcian and the theorbo.

As the church got filled with the warmth of guitar strings, graceful puffs and flaring chantings, Carlos Serrano shared with his audience how thrilled they all were to be playing their baroque music in that church, the perfect setting given their historical coincidence. That comment of his made me think back at some of the texts from The Peru Reader that I had read on the Viceroyalty of Peru (stretching from the Carribean beaches of Colombia to Potosi's ore-filled Cerro Rico in present-day Bolivia), the geo-political framework of the very same period in which that music was written and the Jesuit church built.

Musica Ficta performing in the Iglesia de la Compañía

All of sudden, history came alive. Realising I was listening to 16th century music in a baroque church in Latin America, it daunted to me how alien all of this experience was to these lands. Back in the day, locals didn't compose such music; they weren't catholic; and their concept of a fun night out most certainly wasn't attending a baroque music ensemble. Those who did attend such nights out (or, more likely, afternoons), were the nouveaux riches, the local elite seeking social acceptance among the Spanish colonialists, who had imposed their rites and customs on these promised lands.

Nothing else symbolised in a better way this cultural imposition and ignorance of the local richess as the inside decoration of the church, completely guilded with gold leaf, freshly extracted from the land on which it was built, with the blood of people it had expulsed and demonised. The sounds and voices that just a minute back had sounded so warm and joyful, became distantly cool and, in a way, made me feel out of place. The performance got a whole new dimension, moving me immensly, giving me the sensation that history was overwhelming me. And that, at the sound of a theorbo...