I’ve been on the ground less than 24-hours, and while it still feels premature to make any solid assessments, I would be remiss if I failed to post anything at all…
There is money here. Tremendous amounts. UN workers and aid workers and high end automobiles and fancy diplomats. Cascading falls and swimming holes and green green green with floral accents. Fancy pastries. There is money here.
But it remains in the hands of very few.
I’m working with a group of talented, high energy guys, and the sugar angle is slowly but surely coming together. There are security issues to contend with – a spat of recent kidnappings and a hotel that’s caved in in the centre – but I feel remarkably safe. This is perhaps because my fixers won’t let me out of their sight and are decidedly heavy handed on what I can and can not do. I suppose this is what I pay them for. I wonder how this will translate on the ground. I am used to walking free, doing as I please when I please. Seems part and parcel with snapping photos. But I’m learning to listen more than I speak, trust local advice, and be patient. I am a stranger here, in devastating strange times. That needs to be respected.
