Jillian Reilly

“Francine’s pace always picked up as she approached Reuben, her arms outstretched for a hug. When they were in a room together, she never strayed far from his ample side, unabashedly besotted. Reuben was Francine’s crown jewel, her black South African management guru who was living proof of empowerment. And, boy, was Reuben empowered. As one of a handful of black South Africans with the combined education, experience, skills and charm to consult to international organizations and donors, he was an anti-apartheid millionaire. Reuben had four cars, each a German luxury brand, and four houses scattered around Johannesburg: one for himself, one for his mother, the others for choice. He’d been on management courses in Boston, co-written articles about South African NGOs for university publications, and claimed to savor a nice glass of Cabernet at the end of a long week.”
― Jillian Reilly, Shame - Confessions of an Aid Worker in Africa

“Francine’s face. “We don’t really use the word ‘teaching’,” she said, using her fingers to form quotation marks. “We train NGO leaders to better manage their organizations.” “Right,” I said, although still not certain how “teaching” was different from “training”. Maybe I wasn’t so smart, after all. “We facilitate staff to be better project managers, financial managers, better people managers.” Francine leaned into the desk to emphasize the word “facilitate”. “And we facilitate organizations to develop long-term strategies, to create sound work plans, and to evaluate their programs. Among other things, of course. So our role is that of a facilitator, not a teacher, as such.” I’d never heard the word “facilitate” used so many times in the same breath. Back then, I had no idea how many times I, myself, would breathlessly use that word during my work in Africa.”
― Jillian Reilly, Shame - Confessions of an Aid Worker in Africa