Anyone who belongs to an organization will recognize the essential elements in the following picture and quickly intuit what is going on. There is a cup of coffee, a facilitator, a flip-chart and a presenter. It is an off-site team building and strategic planning retreat. That is where John and I have been for the past two days. Globalization has brought many things to the remote corners of the world; Crest toothpaste, Cadbury chocolates and Chilean wine to name just a few. Flip charts and magic markers should be added to that list.

Our meeting started as most of these do, with introductions, directions to the toilets, a review of the agenda and an “energizer.” I reached back into my facilitator’s bag of tricks and came up with a simple one I’ve used before: everyone line up by their birthdate (month and day, not year) without talking. John and I quickly set .the stage and stood in the middle of the lawn holding up fingers to indicate our birth month, ten for me (October), nine for John (September). People laughed and giggled but most clearly did not get it. With elaborate pantomiming and lip syncing (which was cheating) a few people started to get the message and a rough circle formed. It was more chaotic that I’d ever seen. After 10 minutes we had a line. During the roll-call it dawned on me why we’d had such trouble. Fully a third of the people there – mostly Maasai men – did not know their birthdate. When their turn came, their answer would be “during the early rainy season” or “somewhere between August and December.” No records were kept.

At mid-morning we had a break. Three women brought out enormous thermoses of hyper-sweet, milky tea and plates of mandazi, a lightly sugared, deep-fried bread. As a concession to the few mzungu – white people – in attendance, there was one small thermos of hot water and tea bags. After 15 minutes we resumed the meeting and the monkeys started circling the snack table. Chasing monkeys away from food is an autonomic process here. Every time a monkey darted for the mandazi, someone lunged in that direction waved their arms and shouted. It was an oft repeated dance between human and primate.

The rest of the day progressed like planning retreats do, apparently, the world over, with break-out groups, brain-storming sessions, report outs and clapping. I found it hard to concentrate when a family of warthogs came out of the bush and munched and snorted behind us, but I’ve grown used to zebra, impala and gazelle grazing in the background. Our break-out groups were named “Oryx,” “Hirola,” and “Baringo Giraffe.” After the giraffe group’s report, we rewarded them with a “giraffe clap.” Hold one hand high over your head and the other at your waist. Wiggle the lifted hand for a second and then bring it down with a resounding clap on the lower hand. The Hirolas received a strange body shake that resembled something a football player would do in the end-zone. We closed the day by each saying what we’d gotten out of the meeting and with the facilitator reminding us that we are all one family and must keep our purpose in our hearts. And oh yes, there were lots of people who needed a ride back to the gate. Six people piled in my car and off we went.