How to Plan...And Ultimately Let Go

Reflecting at one of the highest points in Phnom Penh

Much of my time in Cambodia has been overshadowed by a complete lack of control. I go to great lengths to explain something; clothes at the tailor, how a report should be written, how exactly I want my house cleaned, and how I want a hamburger without mayo. Sometimes I get what I want. Sometimes I don’t. This is how it goes.

Over the past three years, there has been a handful of times when I felt this most acutely. One of those times was planning this year’s peace conference. Helping plan a conference is a challenging, but even more so cross-culturally. Cambodians have a strong opinion about how certain things must be done. I find many of these expectations ridiculous, but this is how it's done and success requires complying.

• There must be a fancy invitations addressed to the director of the organization you are inviting, and follow-up messages/invitations later on. Nothing may be handwritten, and this includes the envelope.
• There must be a certificate, even for a short workshop, which must have gold edges and must NOT be printed on just black and white. There must be ONE official looking stamp, even if it’s from Hogwarts, stamps matter, but only ONE.
• We must sit in a formal U-shaped conference setting.
• We must be provided free pens and a notebook.
• All games (including ice-breaker games) must have prizes.
• There must be games.
• The facilitator must be dressed well. The facilitator’s appearance reflects the importance of the content.
• The hotel room must have an abundance of amenities (a conference in 2011 was ruined because the hotel did not provide free toothbrushes).
• We must all be provided per diems for attending, even if you are fairly middle-class. 

For assistance with these odd social expectations, you must work closely with Cambodian counterparts. For example, after designing a colorful and modern looking certificate of participation, a colleague was quick to tell me that it was “wrong.” Two hours wasted, I went with the opulent cliché option, because that is how it’s done.

Cambodians are quick to complain; “my hotel room does not have a desk,” “my hotel room doesn’t have a mini-fridge,” “the fried rice at the restaurant was too salty,” yes, all this happened. There is a balance between trying to make people happy and just having to let go. We are guests in Cambodia. I remind myself of this constantly and the importance of respectful compliance when possible.

The second part of my plan-let-go process for this event was the content. I felt very passionate about the content and its relevance to our work. I spent days researching a perfect, simple and engaging model to share. I drafted notes, summarized articles and revised several frameworks.

Then I gave it to the Cambodian facilitator. We went through the content, discussed it, answered questions, and made additional modifications. Ultimately however, she presented this material in Khmer and I ultimately attended with no idea whatsoever was being said. It went well! But there were pieces that I wish had gone differently. This is all part of the planning and letting go.

There are things you can and cannot control. There is preemptive risk mitigation. And for all the times I’ve worked so hard to explain to my colleagues not to ask double-barreled questions in surveys, they still occasionally asked double-barreled questions! There are moments when you push for excellence and moments when you just have to let go.  In some ways I’m a teacher and in other ways I’m a student. You do your best, and then you step back, pray it goes well, and let it happen.