Where have I been?

That's a really good question. The internets been on the fritz, but really I have been busy.

Since I last posted, they've officially announced the project here in Nimba will be closed by May 2007. Emotionally, that's hard for a lot of us. It's certainly hard for the national staff, who are now faced with no job, income, or stability in this time of Liberia's post-war developmental infancy. For the expat staff, it's hard because these people are definitely our friends. Our co-workers. I _know_ what many of them face when we leave, and it's not good.

The other side, for me, is that I agree that this context for Liberia - Liberia now, as it were - is not for MSF. Work needs to be done here, for sure, the people are vulnerable, the government not-quite-stable, extensive needs have to met, but this work is not MSF work. At least, not MSF work the way I think of it. There's no criticality to the situation, no emergent need. The work we're doing could be done better by another agency. An agency with different resources, tools, and goals. MSF's best work could be done elsewhere. It's not an easy thing to think, especially when I look around the compound in the morning and greet all the staff coming to work, but it is what I think.

So, what does it mean to be pulling out? Well, for a log, it means you get really REALLY busy. Because essentially they're telling you that you now have a known window of time, quite short, in which to get anything and everything done that you want to get done. In an environment such as this, that's a lot. My to-do list, which was big before, is now huge. It's not even so much a matter of what can I get done as how MUCH can I get done before I leave, before the next log takes over for the closing.

So I'm busy. Busy busy busy.

We had a fun bit of 'insecurity' the other day. Independence Day. Biggest holiday in Liberia after Christmas. For weeks we had heard rumors of armed insurrection on Independence Day (even broadcast on the radio!) which we had mostly scoffed at. Because of the rumors, however, most NGOs were restricting their movements just in case. We did likewise.

Then, about one o'clock in the afternoon, we got a radio message.
"The presidential mansion is burning. How well do you copy"
Um...loud and clear.
"It's not clear what happened, but the entire fifth floor is in flames. How well do you copy?"
Um...loud and clear. And, now what?

And that was that. Lockdown in Monrovia, lockdown in Sanniquellie (you're not going out...no sirree), the Ghanian UN force in Monrovia holding back the public.

As it turned out, it was just a coincidence. Just a random fire. But, boy, in the context, with everything else, it was scary. A little too timely to be a coincidence, you think. But there you have it.

Hmmm...My functional boss, Yuri (the LogCo) has left the Mission. I got to go down to Monrovia to attend his farewell party since I also needed to meet and brief with the new LogCo, Don.

I got along great with Yuri, and I think he got along well with me. I had fun with him - he's a great guy, he knows his stuff. Add to that that he pretty much taught me (or coached me in) everything I know about working as a Log for MSF, and you could perhaps say I have him on a bit of a pedastal. "I want to be like Yuri when I grow up. Except being Russian. I don't want to be Russian." Well, and he's shorter than me. So I'd need to grow down.

But regardless, I'm really really glad that he was my first LogCo. He knows a ton, he's been all over for MSF and other aid agencies, and I learned a lot from him, whether or not he knows it. I'm looking forward to working now with Don, but when Yuri left I got a bit sad and felt like an era was coming to a close. I talked with him a lot, he helped me out a lot, and it was hard to see him go. Bon chance, Yuri. We'll cross paths again, I'm sure.

Got my work cut out for me now. Huge list of things to do, rainy season at our doorstep, project closure on the horizon. Truthfully, I'm loving it. Don put it great the other day. We were talking about logistics. About the job. About the work. About what it means. Back home in the states, I've liked most of my jobs. I've enjoyed my work, my coworkers, being "productive". But this is different for me.

I was talking to some of my staff the other day. We were chatting about the project. It came up that the staff have a bit of a legacy here that's not overt but here nonetheless. This is Malcolm's workshop. Jackson's Bungalow. The concrete floors in Tiayee are Chris's. The palava hut is Rob's. Now I'm in that list.

Don said (of logisticians) "We get shit done".

And that pretty much sums it up. You look around a context like this one, at the hospital and clinics and base and landcruisers and drugs and refrigerators and staff and EVERYTHING in the project, and some days you can kind of smile inwardly to yourself. Of course, there's the medicine. The patients. The outreach. The education. The bandaging and injections and blood transfusions and operations. These are pivotal to an MSF program and why we're here in the first place. But everything I can _see_...well, that's from a logistician who got shit done.

Not necessarily me...but a chain of logisticians stretching back to the founding of the project. My contribution is added to the history of logistics in Sanniquellie. But my work is a part of it. Shit _I_ got done is here.

That's a nice feeling.