New perspectives

Delilah Norah Prager

Our journey has taken us through amazing places and to meet with diverse people.  Without internet access on the trains, I found myself mulling a range of blog posts.  But all were forgotten on the day we arrived in Los Angeles, when a new girl  arrived  in my life.

Delilah was born eight hours after our Amtrak train rolled, 2 hours late, into Los Angeles Union Station.  She too arrived relatively gently, slowly and quietly.  Since then, to be honest, she’s done little more than sleep and make twitchy faces.  But it goes without saying that she’s the best, most beautiful, feisty and intelligent girl that ever lived.

I have to admit it’s a step-change – seeing a new generation come into the world.  We know we have responsibilities  – presumably, for example, it’ll be up to us to teach her to swear, spit and cheat at cards, as well as to recognise the wild flowers of Britain.  At the same time, after meeting her that first day we didn’t so much as hobble down the street clutching zimmer frames, as skip away with light hearts and broad smiles.  Welcome, lovely Delilah!

Sometimes I just sits

New Mexico from the train

Surely life should include some days like this: not even sitting and thinking, just sitting.  A full day’s travel: hours of plains, mountains, desert and sky.  I barely picked up my book.  Some of the time the view was accented by the Cascades singing cowboy songs on the ipod.  Occasionally I chatted to fellow passengers, or tuned into their intriguing conversations.  My thoughts, if any, were not deep.  Mostly, I just sat.

For the technical record, we left Denver, Colorado at 05:35 – spent five hours on the Greyhound bus to Raton, New Mexico (199 miles) and eleven on Amtrak from Raton to Flagstaff, Arizona (602 miles).  With the hour’s time change we arrived at 21:55.  Phew.

Top of the world

Lake Helene

Amtrak took us, surely if a little slowly, from New York to Washington; to Chicago; and then Denver.  It’s impossible to do more than scratch the surface of a nation in a whistle-stop tour; but there have been highlights and insights.

Washington seemed full of monuments: big buildings, pronouncing the might, and right, of the United States of America.  Ridiculously, I was most impressed by stumbling across the iconic Watergate building down by the Potomac river.  Joined the Quaker Meeting in Dupont Circle on Sunday, in their large, beautifully-maintained Meeting House.

Chicago was tall and shiny – and full of volunteers.  The Youth Hostel has an information desk; Danny showed us around Little Italy, where he spent his childhood; we could have joined three other tours, shared a spaghetti dinner provided by local girl scouts, or enjoyed an international meal.  All of this was on offer, free, just on the day we visited.

By the time we reached Denver, I had – t0 be honest – had enough of cities.  We hired a car and headed for the Rocky Mountain National Park.  Walking, stunning views, scenery, fresh air – I guess I’ll just use the word correctly for once: awesome.  Walking at 12,000 feet above sea level is a little heady, and slow.

If you ever find yourself in the area, stay at Terri Schindel”s Estes Park Hostel (www.estesparkhostel.com).  It’s a home-from-home, with the added entertainment of a bear wandering down the street in the middle of the night.  Terri’s also a textile conservator and teacher, with great stories about her three gruesome years in London in the 1980s!

Today we came back down to Denver, mile-high city, ready to join Amtrak again.  We have to be up early to catch the thru’way coach at 5:30 in the morning – possibly a good thing we won’t be in bed too long, as I think I’ve just spotted a cockroach in our rather down-market hostel room…

Riding the Rails

This is where I have to admit I’m just a little bit of a train geek.  Nothing too serious: but I do love travelling by train, especially along a ‘new’ route.

Last year I signed the 10:10 pledge (www.1010global.org), aiming to cut my carbon emissions by 10% in the coming twelve months.  I’d just flown to Los Angeles and back and didn’t expect to be coming to the US again so soon.  When the opportunity came up, I realised I would have to find another way of travelling.

I would have loved to cross the Atlantic by boat; but the carbon emissions of the big cruise ships (which take a week to cross and support a wasteful lifestyle) are much worse than flying.  But a train journey across the US was a real possibility.  And – I’ll admit it – I have wanted to do this for a long time.

Yesterday we picked up our rail passes at Penn Station, and boarded our first long-distance train, from NYC to Washington .  John Pitt (‘USA by Rail’ – see above) pointed out landmarks: huge iron bridges across the Delaware; an old  Swedish church; stones marking the Mason-Dixon line; woodland surrounding an airport.

This morning, when I told somebody about our journey, their response was ‘ouch!’  – slow, dirty, uncomfortable.  For me it’s the opposite – I can’t imagine a better way of seeing something of this huge country.

Converging series?

Once the conference ended and I was off-duty in New York, Broadway called.  I was tempted by ‘South Pacific’ but, hey, I’m travelling with a maths teacher.  So last night we saw ‘A Disappearing Number’, a production by the wonderful [Theatre de] Complicte (www.complicte.org).

In the expansive (and mercifully air-conditioned – it’s stiflingly hot here!) auditorium at the Lincoln Centre we saw a beautifully-produced play about mathematical series, progressions, number properties,  love, cultural difference, and the relationship between two mathematicians: self-taught clerical worker Srinivasa Ramanujan and Cambridge professor G. H. Hardy.

In 1913s, Ramanujan wrote to G.H. Hardy from Madras.  He had written to countless people:  Hardy was the first person to recognise his genius, and persuaded him to travel to England so they could work together.  In many ways it was difficult: in Cambridge Ramanujan was isolated from his family and cultural roots, and the  discriminations faced by an Asian man in Europe then would have been significant.  Ramanujan worked through instinct while Hardy insisted on academic proof.  But for both of them the partnership was more important than the differences.  Hardy described their collaboration as the one romantic incident of his life.  Work continues on Ramanujan’s functions, which are only now beginning to be fully understood.

I couldn’t help being struck by the resonance with what I’m being told time and again about partnerships:  they often start organically; they need time and patience; they rely on some common understanding even when there are cultural differences; and they work well when people involved recognise that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

Taboo or the way forward? Foundations in partnership with activists

Today, at the International Human Rights Funders Group conference, I heard a different perspective on collaboration between foundations and NGOs.  The Zimbabwe Alliance – www.zimbabwealliance.org – is a collaboration of like-minded partners working within a human rights framework to promote a successful democratic transition in Zimbabwe.

What’s different is that it’s a deliberate partnership of donors, advocates and activists.  It emerged organically, but has become a model attempting to address power imbalances between the partners.  Foundations of different sizes are involved; both donors and partners are members of the steering committee.

From what I gather it hasn’t been easy to hammer things out together – but that’s exactly what’s happened.  The partnership has a mission: to promote a vibrant civil society and a successful democratic transition in Zimbabwe.  It has agreed to work through grantmaking, capacity building and networking, and demonstrating international solidarity, but also by direct advocacy.

One interesting message was that the foundations involved must engage in fundraising on behalf of the partnership.  Otherwise, it’s too easy to place the burden of raising additional funds on the NGO partners.

At the very least, it’s trying to address, up-front, some of the power dynamics many foundations believe are entrenched.  Clearly, the process has to change – even in small ways – the partners.  NGOs have to engage in grant-making decisions and foundations have to engage in advocacy.  That wouldn’t work for everyone.  But, it’ll be interesting to see how this particular partnership develops.

Thinking about interviews

I’ve just finished interviewing all of JRCT’s Trustees, and as many UK-based foundation representatives as I could manage, before I travel to the US on Monday.

I asked each person to give me an example of a successful partnership.  Even in this relatively small number of interviews I’ve heard about a huge variety of partners and approaches.

The JRCT Trustees alone gave me an extremely broad range of examples from their ‘other’ lives:  an inter-departmental civil service initiative; private sector collaboration and co-opetition; two voluntary sector organisations working with government; an independent charity working with an academic; an international disaster relief project involving different partners; and a huge campaign bringing together women from all walks of life.

The other foundation people have told me about partnerships that are long-standing and short-term; big and tiny; defined by outcomeor defined by time; involving equal, similar partners or involving partners with wildly different perspectives.  Everybody’s given me pointers to new people to talk to and reports to read.

This is rich material, and I can hardly wait to start drawing out the themes and understanding what I’m gathering.  Unfortunately, that’ll have to wait until next week. because a JRCT Trustees’ meeting is about to begin.

Celebrating being alive

I can’t honestly say running has much in common with the concept of partnerships.  Running is a relatively solo activity: most runners train alone and compete with themselves.

But, to my surprise – I’m not a sporty person – running has become part of my sabbatical.

I set myself the goal of completing a 10k  race before mid July.  The warm weather’s helped, and it’s also been good to use the extra time saved by not travelling to the office every day.

On Sunday I was delighted (and relieved) to finish the Jane Tomlinson Leeds 10k in 63 minutes.  How amazing, to be one of nearly 9,000 people padding around the city centre, cheered on by crowds of supporters.  Unlike most participants I didn’t ask anyone for sponsorship – maybe that’s curmudgeonly, but I’m not sure why anyone should sponsor me to enjoy myself.  As Benjamin Zephaniah does, I run to celebrate being alive.

Running’s keeping me healthier and, probably, happier.  And even though it takes time (30 minutes, 3 times a week, not to mention the extra showers) there’s an added benefit: running is good for thinking.  So as I ran again today, through the local woods, I pondered on the things I’m learning about the unexpectedly large number and broad range of partnerships that I’m discovering.  But – more of that later.