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2009-04-22T11:13:19-07:00

As I waited for the elevator, passed my floor a few times, and stalled some more, I went over my game plan for the meeting. My not-for-profit organization was developing a new strategy, and its potential for success would be tested by this meeting. Expecting my visit was a gentleman by the name of Andeberhan, who would ultimately be responsible for managing our potential partnership. Working with his organization would give us access to 25 of their branches, which serve around 600,000 people in the Washington, DC area. Selling him on my organization (and me) was crucial.Aware that finding commonalities and building rapport are key elements in developing partnerships, I tried to think of ways to connect with Andeberhan. As it turned out, he was from Eritrea. Considering that I’m from a small mountain town in Colorado, about the only thing we had in common was the fact that we’ve probably both seen our fair share of goats. I admitted to Andeberhan that I knew very little about Eritrean culture and its language, Tigrinya, which didn’t seem to shock him. What did surprise him was the level of curiosity I showed in his language and culture. I even got him to teach me some words in Tigrinya. He was appreciative that I showed interest in his language and culture. Needless to say, the meeting went very well. I felt great about making the connection, though admittedly, I asked myself when on Earth I would ever need to use the Tigrinya language again.The next day, I was heading to New York for a big conference. I was trying to make the 2:30 pm bus and couldn’t afford to miss it. Slowed by my bags, I dragged along the highway in the heat for 20 minutes and couldn’t find a taxi in sight. My colleague, who was already on the bus, informed me that it was leaving in 5 minutes. I was 10 minutes from the bus stop and still couldn’t find a taxi.In a moment of desperation, I jumped in the middle of traffic and begged a random car to give me a ride. It was not a taxi, which the driver made very clear as he yelled at me in broken English. I noticed a novelty item in his car saying “Eritrea.” I interrupted his yelling with the little bit of Tigrinya I had just learned, “Bejaka! (Please!) Help me out, I can’t miss this bus! Yekanyeley (Thank you).” He shifted immediately to a shocked look of disbelief, and then to a warm smile replying, “How do you know my language?” He gladly gave me a ride—I barely made my bus—and he thanked me for caring about his language and his country. astXacl2Kr3QVhacfA8pyY

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2009-06-01T09:14:06-07:00

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How I Got to New York with Just a Few Words

2009-12-22T15:58:48-08:00

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AndrewB

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