Showing posts with label travel security. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel security. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

NEED vs. RISK

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist


Note: This very week Project C.U.R.E.is faced with another very strategic decision. Our contacts in Afghanistan are urgently requesting us to return to their country with more ocean going cargo container loads of needed medical supplies and pieces of medical equipment. In the past, Project C.U.R.E. has been one of the very few humanitarian organizations that have been successful in delivering the life saving goods into the country.

In 2014, the Obama administration announced a timetable calling for a complete U.S. withdrawal by the end of 2016. Many contend that the surge's rigid timetable undermined U.S. leverage at a moment when maximum military pressure was being brought to bear on the insurgency, and that the anticipated withdrawal has likewise diminished the Taliban's incentives to negotiate. It appears to have emboldened the Taliban’s aggressive activities.

Afghanistan is a very dangerous venue right now. So, does the desperate need warrant the risk involved of Project C.U.R.E. delivering help and hope to the people of Afghanistan?

I thought it would be interesting, and perhaps enlightening, to share with you some of Project C.U.R.E.’s actual involvement in Afghanistan.

Afghanistan Journal: July, 2002:
I had a lot of good memories of Central Asia. I had at one time or another visited most or all of the individual republics of the old Soviet Union. The history was rich and colorful and included such eccentrics as Genghis Kahn, Timor Tourmaline, and Alexander the Great. Ancient tales of adventures along the Old Silk Road are still retold around Uzbek and Afghanistan firesides.

But new sailing routes replaced the long camel caravans that plodded through the shifting sands of Central Asia, and upstart eccentrics like Stalin, Khrushchev, and Brezhnev exerted their dirty games of civil manipulation on the more recent political chessboard.

I vividly remembered sitting on the cold floor of a rural Kyrgyzstan farmhouse in the dead of winter eating a late evening dinner as the snow blew into the old house from between the ancient logs. The entire oblast had run out of natural gas, and I had been invited to sleep around the wood burning cooking hearth in the kitchen with the rest of the farm family. I graciously declined, protesting that I did not want to inconvenience them or intrude into their privacy.

Honoring my request to stay in the room where we were eating, they brought me blankets made from horsehides and a thin mat for the floor. Before the night was over I realized that I should have opted for the kitchen floor. As the snow continued to blow into the room where I was sleeping, I rummaged through the contents of my suitcase in the darkness of the old room.

I was so cold that I had tried to pull my head under the blankets. But that had not worked at all. The old horsehide blankets still smelled terribly like the barnyard and I could count the time duration of my head under the covers in nanoseconds.

But, finally, I pulled from my suitcase a couple of pre-worn undershirts and promptly wrapped my head with them turban style in order to stay warm and made it through the wintry Kyrgyzstan night. Great memories!

I also recalled the hundreds of hospital and clinic facilities that I had visited throughout Central Asia. Project C.U.R.E. had made a great impact on the health care delivery systems within Central Asia and I felt proud to have been even a small part of that memory building.

Over the years we had built some great partnerships in Central Asia with organizations like Vision International, Caleb Project, and Boulder Valley Hospitals; we had also done extensive work with various Korean missions groups. The longer we were involved in Central Asia the broader our reputation and influence had grown and the more groups there were that had come knocking at our doors.

Project C.U.R.E. had previously worked in partnership in Tirana, Albania, with a Korean missionary group called Messengers of Mercy. One of their members, Mr. John Kim, who worked for United Airlines in Chicago, traveled with me to Albania for our needs assessment study. Project C.U.R.E.’s partnership with the Korean group has proven to be very successful in many places.

Toward the end of 2001, Dr. Choi, from the headquarters of Messengers of Mercy in Chicago, asked if I would travel to Tashkent, Uzbekistan, and check out several projects there in which they were involved. I had agreed to go contingent on Mr. Kim’s traveling with me. They agreed and we began to work on a mutually agreeable date in 2002 for the assessments.

At the same time I had been contacted by Central Asia Free Exchange (CAFE), one of our previous partners in Uzbekistan regarding some urgent medical requests made to them by the highest-ranking cabinet minister on the president’s council of Uzbekistan. If Project C.U.R.E. could participate in providing for the cabinet member’s request it was felt that many doors of opportunity would be opened in Uzbekistan.

The high-ranking cabinet member, Dr. Alisher Sharipou, was so interested in working with Project C.U.R.E. that he traveled to Denver to promote our involvement and also to check us out. It had become quite clear that I needed to make a trip to Uzbekistan. We finally agreed to travel on the dates of July 26 through August 7. I was quickly running out of any available travel dates for 2002.

Almost equally as pressing was a request for me to return to Harare, Zimbabwe, Africa, to perform an urgent needs assessment study there. After a lot of consideration we decided that the only way I could possibly make another trip to southern Africa was to combine the African trip with the Uzbekistan trip.

I would travel to Frankfurt, then to Tashkent, Uzbekistan, and then back to Frankfurt, and south to Johannesburg, South Africa, and north to Harare, Zimbabwe, then back to Frankfurt and back to Denver via Washington, D.C.

Following the terrorist attacks on the US on September 11, 2001, Tashkent, Uzbekistan, had become an important hub for the war on terrorism. It also had become a very dangerous place.

As the time drew closer for my travel into Uzbekistan, a strange thing occurred. One of the Korean groups, with whom we would be shipping partners in Uzbekistan, suggested that I go with them into Mazar-e-Sharif in northern Afghanistan. They felt that the United Nations would approve our travel into the war area to assess the situation.

There were thousands of refugees in the area without adequate food, water, or medical attention, and perhaps Project C.U.R.E. could offer some relief in those areas.

Next Week: Embassy Travel Warnings 

© Dr. James W. Jackson   
Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House
  


Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS...Roads I Have Traveled: Excerpt 2 from July, 1995

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist



India: July, 1995, (continued):  I had another instant flashback. I was in Kenya, on one of our safaris. The guide was pointing out how the cheetahs and female lions watched the eyes and behavior patterns of the gazelles or waterbucks. The ones they picked out to ultimately attack were those with a flaw, a weakness, or a lack of confidence that could be detected.

About that time in the midst of my flashback, a couple of desperate-looking, dark-skinned Indians with shabby clothes began looking at me and my luggage with a little more interest than was com­fortable. I thought, No way. If out of desperation you’re looking for panic or lack of direction in my eyes, you’ll have to find it in some of the other passengers’ eyes.I walked straight for an abandoned luggage cart in the street, placed my two bags on the cart, as if it had been planned for a year, and then turned the baggage cart back toward the terminal and the crowd. There was another entrance to the terminal, but it was blocked by Indian police. I pushed my way through the crowd, smiled, gave a hand gesture to the police, and walked past them back into the building. I wasn’t supposed to go back in there once I had left the security area, but I had to return to the beginning of the line of placard holders and start over again. 

By now a lot of people were coming out of customs. I searched the line again, but nothing. I backed my luggage cart up against a wall, put my foot on it, and nonchalantly studied the crowd. Over an hour passed. No one. So this was Madras, India, city of ten million? The only thing you can predict about desperate people is that they are unpredictable. I decided to stay in the building for the time being. Several other tattered folk came close, looked over my luggage, sized me up, and moved on. Where in the world was Browning? 

In the crowd, pushed up against the fence but with no placard, were a kindly appearing gentleman and his wife, both about sixty-five or seventy years old. They looked European or American enough. I pushed my cart again through the crowd, right up behind the couple. I reached over a row of short Indians and laid my hand on the old man’s shoulder. 

“You aren’t Mr. Browning, are you?”
“No, I’m Mr. Selz, from Utah, USA.”

“I’m Jackson from Colorado. We’re kind of neighbors when you consider that we are halfway around the world and in time zones they determine in thirty-minute intervals.”

We chatted awhile. He and his wife were Mormons from Salt Lake City and were just finishing their fifteenth month of an eighteen-month mission to Madras. They were at the airport to pick up another older couple needing to fulfill their missionary work for the LDS (Latter-day Saints).

I mentioned my predicament and asked for his advice on a good hotel near the airport, in case my situation came down to my needing a hotel.

He said, “I would definitely tell you the Trident Hotel. You could take a taxi from that stand over there. They will take American dollars for the fare.”
 
About that time, their anticipated couple arrived out of the customs area. We hollered at each other, and they disappeared into the crowd. Another twenty minutes went by. I looked back out the window onto the street. There was a bus just arriving that had Trident Hotel written on the side. I left my baggage cart and quickly went back out past the police and onto the street. I waved at the Trident driver. He stopped and got out of the bus. I told him my name was Jackson, and I needed a ride to the Trident. 

As he was putting my bags into the bus, a young Indian fellow called him over to the side, and my ears flapped when I heard the name Jackson. The young man came onto the bus where I was sitting, stuck out his hand, and said, “Jackson?”

I said, “Yes. Are you Mr. Browning?”

“No, my name is Benny. Mr. Browning could not make it, so Samuel asked if I would meet you. but I didn’t know how I was going to meet you.”

Then he went on to tell me, “I already made reservations for you at the Trident Hotel, and I knew if I waited for you to get on the Trident bus, I would be able to meet you.”

I didn’t even bother to ask him how he thought I was supposed to know that there ever existed a hotel by the name of Trident before I met Mr. Selz. It was impossible that Benny would have known that I would be getting on that bus!  But the next thing he said still had me wondering.

“You were the first person to come out of customs security, weren’t you? I saw you but did not expect you to come out first.  I just watched you. You were so confident, and it appeared that you knew what you were doing and where you were going. You looked like you had a plan, and I guess I was looking for someone lost and in a panic.”

I thought, Oh boy, maybe sometimes those gazelles and waterbucks need to be eaten!

Benny did not stay at the hotel. He was going to stay at his sister and brother-in-law’s place about an hour away from Madras. I didn’t know when Benny finally got to bed, but by the time I got checked into the hotel, it was about 1:30 a.m. Wednesday. I went to my room, and there was fresh fruit and biscuits on a small table. So when the attendant came up with my bags, I ordered a pot of hot tea. Two o’clock in the morning or not, it was time to relax with a good cup of tea.

Next Week: India’s Creative Use of Dialysis Machines

© Dr. James W. Jackson   
Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House
  
www.jameswjackson.com   

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com