It started in childhood, with my upbringing in Botswana by expat parents. My father was working on the economic development desk at the European Commission; my mother, in consular services at the British Embassy. My sister and I played in the dirt among the seemingly endless fruit trees of our garden, on the one hand, privileged and sheltered; on the other, exposed from an early age to the ravages of poverty and the challenges faced by developing countries.
On graduating from university in London, I worked for a while in an admin job at a research institute. The perks included sweet, gentle colleagues, a fabulous historical building complete with wood-panelled library, and the charming milieu of kindly academics in tweed bustling around writing papers and giving seminars on - admittedly, niche - but fascinating topics.
I found myself at the reception after one such seminar, reflecting on the likelihood that, were I a fictional character in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I would probably find myself on Golgafrinchan Ark Ship B, cast out from society along with the brokers and paper-pushers and busy-makers who didn't really *add* anything to the planet Golgafrincham, and thus were cast out. I resolved to take a leap, to find a way to apply myself to creating some kind of meaningful impact in the world.
Within months, I was on my way to Islamabad, Pakistan, where I secured an internship on a security and justice project funded by the British government's erstwhile Department for International Development. Amid political unrest and the partial shutdown of the city due to protracted protests against the incumbent government, I began learning the ropes of impact measurement. The project was delivering an extensive training program to various branches of the security and justic apparatus, from police to prosecutors to traditional mediators. They needed to improve their services and earn back the trust of the public, in order to cultivate peace and stability. But: how much of that training content was being absorbed? And thereafter, applied? And, if applied, what real world difference was it making? Were there any unintended consequences? My boss and mentor was generous with his time and expertise, showing me tricks and techniques in Excel, and always encouraging me to think critically and ask: what will we *do* with this information?
Image carousel from Aitebaar project
Image carousel from Aitebaar project
When the project came to an end, I decided to stay in Islamabad - a place I fell in love with due to its lush-green landscape at the foot of the Himalayas, its rich cuisine and arts scene, and its vibrant community of development workers, journalists, artists, and diplomats. I began to work for a local NGO which had a broad portfolio of projects spanning health, education, civic engagement, and women's economic empowerment. This last was my favourite. TBC