Positive Reinforcement

A quick word about warning signs, if I may. In the gentleman’s toilet here in the Merlin Yangon office there is a sign saying: “Please do not pee on the floor. Thanks.” I’m not one to argue with the suggestion; it’s a rational request, and a polite one at that. Mostly I try to keep true to such directives myself. There must be some people that don’t agree quite so comprehensively since there remains, or rather appears newly every day, a small puddle of pee into which every man must wade before he can relieve himself.

As I consider this issue, and why this request (and the toilet) is so often missed, it occurred to me that – just maybe – these gentlemen are acting somewhat reasonably. Let me explain. As far as I can tell from recent theories on the structure of the brain, humans are not very capable of using sequential logic to any proficient degree; we are, each of us, parallel computing machines. Even if we have a clear sequence of reasoning in our minds, i.e. don’t pee on the floor, we remember only the important terms ‘pee’ and ‘floor’ before we consider the negation, thereby making us more likely to link those 2 ideas together. When you think of the times you are asked “don’t think of the number 2” or “don’t drop that plate” – you are absolutely more likely to think of the number 2 or to drop the plate. It’s why I dislike being told: “don’t f*&k this up” or “don’t be a prick”. So I can forgive these men for ignoring what otherwise might be considered a straightforward request.

Your dear friend the computer would have no problem with it and could even, with the right programming, understand “do not not not not not not not not not not not pee on the floor” in a flash. We humans are, sadly, not computers blessed with such linear logic skills at the best of times, and certainly not when carrying a full bladder. This is made evident by the toilet I refer to.

Actually, even computers would fare no better had they stood in the same cubicle. This is because the request only describes what not to do, and not what to do. The poor computer is told not to pee on the floor, but then where oh where should it pee? On the ceiling? It needs a direct command. Also, the statement employs internal negation, which is standard in the English language, but not clear in formal logic terms. Ok, I’m not to pee on the floor, so what am I supposed to do on the floor? Spill some coffee? Have a party? Kneel down in awe? Obviously what we need to do is move the negation of the toilet sign request outside the equation, so that there is some person ‘P’ who wants you to ~(pee+floor), rather than (~pee+floor). It’s so obvious. Humans, computers, you’re both forgiven.

I really don’t blame the peeing men. It’s genuinely – truly – complicated to ask someone to not pee on the floor. They, like the rest of us mere mortals, are not mentally designed to consider this sort of thing, not without some effort anyway (although I seem to have the found the time in my clearly busy schedule to do it). I humbly request therefore that, please, dear designer of the signs, if you want something to be done about the splashes of yellow use some straightforward, non-complicated statements. I quietly suggest a sign saying “Please pee inside the toilet bowl. Thanks”, and I suspect there would be a reduction in the floor pee and, consequently, less wading for the rest of us. And any advanced computers out there might also be able to do the same too.

Thanks.

Arrival!

So, after 6 months in the making, here I am in Yangon working with the international medical relief agency Merlin. My vain intention is to write a few notes along the way, partly because I know I won’t email people about stuff I’m up to and partly because I want to bore you all.

The long story short is I began as a ‘Field Management Development Trainee’ in Merlin’s London office, training to become a Merlin project manager within a year. Merlin runs a number of health programs in some of the poorest and most unstable locations across the globe. In Myanmar, Merlin has been running projects since 2005 following the December 2004 tsunami and has been instrumental in supporting the recovery from the 2008 Cyclone Nargis, which killed hundreds of thousands of people and displaced many thousands more.

To this end, I’ve spent, so far, half a year being trained up to my ears in finance, human resources, health, media, security, logistics, resilience, and more. At this stage I can say I’ve been kidnapped, had a gun to my head, broken into computers, shouted “I don’t like your face” to a good friend of mine, been made to answer difficult questions on camera, watched colleagues pretend to cry because I haven’t helped a pretend baby, been electrocuted, learnt how to use the earth’s atmosphere to bounce high frequency radio signals at long distance, and survived in one of the most expensive cities in the world on minimum wage.

I’m not convinced the next 6 months will top that. But I will try to do everything I can to make it worthwhile and successful. I’m hoping to avoid any more electrocutions, but I can expect (to name a few things) diarrhoea, heatstroke, snakes, mosquitos, lizards, cockroaches, awkward “lost-in-translation” moments, loneliness, sightseeing locations, water fights, sunshine, karaoke, and plenty of awkward English-person moments.

After, what, 7 days here, I’ve not faced very much of that sadly. I’ve seen two lizards, which isn’t much to speak of. I even had a pleasant flight here.

Also the Merlin team here in Yangon are giving me a wide-berth for settling in. They’ve treated me to drinks beside lakes and cheap lunches in the shaded back-streets. Yesterday I bought myself a massage for about £3 and a cool watermelon juice next door. I’ve done all and everything that’s indoors because, not surprisingly, it’s hot here. And it’s getting hotter. On Saturday, my temporary flat-mate, Khangelani, and I visited the Shwedagon Temple, a towering golden peak above the city. The very hairs of the Buddha are supposed to be inside the temple, collected from Burmese traders who visited the Buddha two and a half thousand years ago and plucked from the head of the Buddha Himself. I would have enjoyed the beautiful architecture except that my feet were burning from the Sun-heated tiles so instead I spent the whole trip hopping around from one shaded area to the next. We all did, it wasn’t just my pitiful feet, so there is a design flaw in there somewhere. I’m now told to visit after the sun goes down (2 days too late, thank you).

Next up for me is getting to know the local community as much as possible and exploring a bit further beyond the street I live and work on. Updates to follow…