Palaver

This is the end of my first week at TransFair. Like all first weeks, it was fraught with thrills, chills, and spills. I've attended bunches of meetings, wrestled with new equipment and software, struggled to remember the names of colleagues, and wondered how on earth I was ever going to get up to speed on a brand new industry. As a result, the word "palaver" has been much on my mind.

Originally, palaver meant a parley between European explorers and representatives of local populations, especially in Africa. Today it means something more like idle or beguiling chatter.

Paul, my boss, is committed to helping me acclimate. I think that's both very humane and very smart. He and I had an hour long meeting on Monday, another on Wednesday, and a lunch on Friday.

I'm touched that he has been so generous with his time. But, being something of a lone wolf, I found having that much of his attention a little unnerving--sometimes it felt like a parley and sometimes it felt like beguiling chatter on both of our parts. At the end of the week, TransFair celebrated its new office space with a "friends and family" potluck. I did my requisite two hours--that's my limit for office parties--and engaged in a fair amount of pleasant, idle chatter.

Monday brings a preparatory phone call for an upcoming meeting of the Fair Trade Labeling Organization Finance Committee. FLO, as it is known, is the international body of fair trade certifiers in each of the world's active countries. That is where the word "palaver" lives up to its original meaning. Each of the in-country organizations, most of the growers, and many of the roasters hold strong opinions about how things should be organized, what is and is not equitable, where the baseline for certification lies, and a host of other issues.

I've only been privy to some of the internal discussions so far and I've read only a few of the background materials, but I can already see how careful and intricate the conversations will have to be. Truly, the meeting for which I will help to prepare on Monday will be palaver, in the classic sense of a parley, a discussion or conference over terms of truce or other matters.

Because I've changed industries so many times, I'm accustomed to not speaking the language of my new workplace. The learning curve is steep, but it is always fascinating. I never approach the fluency of a native speaker, but since I usually don't want to, it is seldom a problem. It's that lone wolf thing again...I'm happy to mingle, but I'm not built for merging.

As I've moved from engineering to law to publishing to policy to higher education and now to a combination of food and international development, I've relied heavily on palaver and parley. The natives speak an unknown dialect. Their customs and rituals are a mystery. I have to discover what their values are and how to acclimate myself to them. It keeps me interested and engaged, and, truth to tell, it keeps me sharp. There is always the possibility that I won't figure it all out in time to be successful.

My record so far has been seven and a half years in one place. I'd like to move it up to ten...I'm getting a little old for exploring and restlessness is beginning to give way to a longing for fixity. I thought and hoped that Mills would be the place I'd settle down. I'm still sad that it wasn't. Will this be the place? Only time will tell.