A lot can go wrong when stacking watermelons. Or at least I imagined this as I framed a street vendor from a polite distance. Her hands turned, adjusted, and tested the balance of her small empire. Everything looked secure. Snap.
It was my first day in the field for Holding the Line, a project I dreamt up during the panic of U.S. foreign aid freezes and stop-work orders. The project demanded both my fine-tuned skills of attention-to-detail and sensitivity while also reawakening long-dormant skills: openness, adventure, and the ability to stumble forward through mistakes.
I hadn’t led a project in more than ten years without a clear mandate, a funder, or objectives neatly defined before my arrival. This time, I came with only the warm welcome of people and local organizations willing to meet and share their story. But in truth, no one had asked me to be here. I invited myself to this party.
This post is for paying subscribers only
Sign up now and upgrade your account to read the post and get access to the full library of posts for paying subscribers only.
Sign up now
Already have an account? Sign in
