Stress

ENGINEERED STRESS

John Wilson was a stressed and tired man in the grasslands of East Africa. Such an explosive combination of human condition and natural environment cannot persist for long - and thus Wilson's fate seemed inevitable.

John Wilson was a well-respected senior engineer in a major Canadian consulting firm. From atop his firm's office tower, he was given a marvellous view of downtown Toronto and Lake Ontario. He had little time, however, to marvel at the view.

Each workday was the same. Awake by 5 AM, at work by 7 after nearly an hour of fighting through bumper-to-bumper traffic, a short lunch break, then back home for supper around 8 PM. At least the routine was broken on Sundays when he usually avoided the office.

Such a routine brought John fame, position, money, and power. And he enjoyed this life, although he sometimes secretly wished for a slower pace. There were also nagging, subtle feelings about the excessive stress of his position, but he recognized the stress as an obvious cost of his fame and power. To his dismay, the subtle feelings reached a crescendo whenever a client's report was weeks overdue, but the intensity would inevitably subside soon after the report was completed. But this was simply because other projects then demanded his attention.

In general, Wilson engineered his life very well. Its design and execution met his strict specifications. He was in control.

If Wilson had been an Accountant, rather than an Engineer, of the Human Spirit, he would have realized long ago that Assets are always offset by Liabilities. He noted in exquisite detail his increasing assets, but overlooked the increasing liabilities. This myopic view of life ended when his wife left him, but did not leave the children, car, and house.

His personal life was now in disarray and structurally unstable. When the firm promoted a fellow employee to the coveted Vice President position, he felt his professional life had also become unstable. Instead of resolving his clients' crises, Wilson now had to resolve his very own crisis. Unfortunately, he did not know what the specific problems were, let alone how to solve them.

Wilson received a memorandum from his new superior. She reminded him that he had not taken a vacation in years and that he had accumulated several months worth of free time. She strongly suggested that he take a long vacation and, since it was April, now was a good time to take it. Strange, he thought, it is actually May.

The first few days felt strange, but he remained stressed and caught up on his reading. By the fourth day, he was bored and still stressed. A friend had suggested he travel overseas and Wilson now considered this option as a viable escape from the boredom and unhappiness. His wife had most of his money, so his destination had to be inexpensive. A mild climate and some interesting engineering feats also fell under his criteria. After reading some brochures and talking to travel agents, he chose Kenya and flew off to Nairobi.

Nairobi was a nice enough city. More than a million people lived in the area, but downtown was not very crowded and there were few highrises. He found the streets were clean and the people were generally friendly, at least friendlier than in most North American cities. The occasional parklands and boulevards, with palm trees and exotic flowers, reminded him he was on the Equator. In an engineering sort of way, he marvelled at the way in which the palm trees flared out at the top into a cool green canopy providing efficient shade for the people below.

Wilson located a reasonable, pleasant hotel overlooking the Jeevanjee Gardens, purposely avoiding the Hilton and similar high-class tourist hotels. This shielded him from the inevitable chatty questions about why he was there and what he planned to do.

The month of May was the end of the Long Rains, and just the name concerned him as he recalled the week-long rains of Canada's distant west coast. Happily, he discovered the rains were only sporadic and did not fall every day. However, when the rain did start, he was amazed as it continued for hours in a way that could be weakly described as "torrential".

Wilson discovered that a popular pastime in Kenya for tourists and residents alike was a "safari" or trip to some of the National Parks to view wildlife. To Wilson, this sounded intriguing, if he could engineer his own safari. So he rented camping equipment, leased a four-wheel-drive jeep, bought a road map, and departed Nairobi. After a few near-collisions, he adjusted to driving on the left side of the roads.

He could now understand why a popular T-shirt in Nairobi read, "I survived Kenya potholes!". The roads were atrocious in places. At 10 kilometers an hour, he could barely negotiate the half-meter-diameter potholes in the asphalt where the vehicle would slam downwards into the foundation of the road. Highway engineers and contractors should be secure professions here, he thought, but evidence of their employment was sorely lacking.

Heading west from Nairobi, Wilson was driving to Masai Mara, reputedly the best of the parks for wildlife. It was also an extension of Tanzania's world famous Serengeti Park. The concept of vast undisturbed lands with few people was becoming more appealing. In order to save on park admission fees, he decided to avoid the park proper and instead tour the surrounding countryside. There was so much land that he guessed that no one would notice him.

John Wilson noticed with some concern that the area around Masai Mara was notably drier than Nairobi. Although the Long Rains brought some green grass to the region, water was not abundant, drinking water less so. As he later discovered, bottled water when available was around $7 a liter! He realized quickly he would have to carefully conserve the little water he brought on the safari.

Wilson reached the fringe of the park by early afternoon and began driving around, usually ignoring the few established trails. By mid-afternoon, his jeep located a muddy stream so he stopped for a rest. The air was hot, dry, and still. Wilson had never felt air like that before, so unwelcoming and inhospitable. He could only compare it to life in an oven, and promptly basted himself with suntan lotion. There were a few stunted trees near the stream with enough leaves to cast a meagre shadow. No leafy palm trees here, he sighed. But he pitched his tent for the night anyway under the trees.

Having a few hours before sundown, he set off in search of game. He came across some zebra, gunned the engine, and chased them for awhile. A half-hour more of driving turned up only a few small dik-dik, too fast to chase enjoyably. Then he stumbled upon a den of lions feasting on a late-afternoon catch, apparently a wildebeest. There were three lionesses and four cubs, and the cubs appeared playful and alternately suckling on two of the lionesses. He watched this scene as the sun began setting.

Suddenly, the male lion emerged from the nearby bush and stood motionless - staring at him. Wilson nervously stared back. The lion roared and moved towards the vehicle. Wilson quickly pulled away and was relieved to find the lion was not following. As he thought about the incident, he had a vague sensation that there was a moral, something he was supposed to learn from it. He mentally shrugged his shoulders and continued on.