...

Me:"W, does this part of town have a name?"
W:"[yes]. I used to live here. I had a house, you can just see it
there. (points). Down the hillside, there."
Me:"You moved?"
W:"This part of town, during the third war, was no-man's land. From
there (points) to the bridge, you could not walk, you could not go. No
man's land. The governement had snipers on those two buildings there.
The rebels was across the bridge. Anyone going across, pop, they shoot
you, you die there on the bridge. Pop, pop."
Me:"so you moved, it was too close to no man's land?"
W:"No, no, that was ok. Just don't go into no-man's land!" *laughs*
"No, one day, the well there (points), it dries up. You need the well,
you need the water! Can't live there no water. So we cleaned it up. It
was dirty. We cleaned it up, when we clean, we find seven human
skulls. Seven skulls. Seven human skulls in the well. That night, I
can't sleep, I'm crying all night, no sleep. All I think about is
those seven people, skulls in the well, crying. I can't live there
anymore, near that well."

Ready to go...again...

Well, my two weeks are up tomorrow, and I'm finally heading back to my
project, team, and the reason I'm here in the first place.
Sure, the training has been interesting, in a sort of geeky way, but
all the same, I didn't come all the way to Liberia to sit in a room
for 12 hours a day for two weeks and learn about a database that I
won't really be using anyway.

I actually feel quite comfortable at this point in Monrovia...for all
its differences from, well, anywhere else in the world I've been to.
I'm actually fairly surprised at how well I seem to be adjusting, in
general, and specifically to being in Monrovia and Sanniquellie. I
expected to have a much harder time. I got to go to the Waterside
market again today (had to pick up some jerseys for Jens and trainers
for me), and I definitely like it - it feels like 'life'...as opposed
to being in the compound, which feels pretty isolated and separate
from the world around.

Aside from the training, life in Monrovia's pretty easy. If it's any
indication, all the expats who work here have very nicely refined
tans. None of the expats in the field have such a thing. When I've not
been in the training, I've been sitting on the terrace watching the
Atlantic, watching kids play soccer on the beach (note: from here on
out, since everybody else does it, I'll be referring to soccer as
"football", the way it should be), having a beer, chatting with the
head of mission(s), maybe going to the beach, and generally not having
too stressful a time.

By contrast, I understand that during my absence in Sanniquellie, the
compound has no water, a broken submersible pump, no power if the
generator isn't running, no refrigeration, and the fence has been
blown down. Oh, and the hospital also has no water, two broken wells,
and, well...the list goes on.

All of which makes me, actually, VERY excited to get back up to
Sanniquellie and get to work! I'm definitely ready to feel like I'm
doing what I came here for.

Gotta go, just got some interesting news and need to follow it up.
I'll let you know what happens.
ciao
taj

Yesterday, it rained in Monrovia.

There must be no sound in the world like that of a tropical deluge
falling simultaneously on hundreds of thousands of tin roofs, across a
city of millions.

Monrovia's usually very loud...during the day, evening, even at night.
It's a regular cacophony of people talking, horns honking, sirens
blaring, arguments, and a constant crash in the background of the
surf. But when the rain falls, it simply drowns out all else. The
drumming is deafening at times...It's really quite something.

I'm looking forward (with trepidation) to the first rains in
Sanniquellie. It will be a markedly different experience. There are
nowhere near so many people there, and Sangba base is fairly outside
the town itself. As such I expect it to be a much different
environment when the rain falls. I understand from my project team
that it has been raining the last week (and here I am in Monrovia...).
Everything's absolutely soaked. Ah, well. The rainy season "begins" in
late April, and then I'll have a solid 6 months of my own to
experience it. Over and over and over.

It's Sunday and I'm in Monrovia. This can only mean one thing: I'm off
to the beach.

ciao for now.
taj

A rough weekend

The time in Monrovia is a lot different from time in Sanniquellie, but
the weekend was really nice. On Saturday, we visited an IDP camp -
Internally Displaced Persons camp - that's up on the central hill in
the city. IDP's are like domestic refugees - they don't get refugee
status because they haven't left their home country but they have fled
their home place and have nothing in wherever they are.

So, anyway, the government of Liberia has set up an IDP camp in the
middle of Monrovia. How, you ask? Well, there was an abandoned 9-story
luxury hotel that was never quite finished before the third war.
Because it was in a central, strategic location during the war, it was
the subject of intense fighting for control. Now, however, it's all
beat up to hell.
So the government has decided to put some 4500 IDPs in the hotel.

It's quite a sight. Of course there's no power, no water, no toilets
in this hotel. In some ways, I think it's a worse locale for IDP
housing than a sprawling camp in a desert or something. The squalor is
quite tremendous, just what you'd expect from 4500 people living in a
building that has no utilities whatsoever. But at the same time,
people have obviously adapted to the conditions. Because of the
density of the population in the building, enterprising refugees have
set up small shops in the (dark) hallways and sell bits of food or
water. At the light end of one hallway, a woman has established a
hair-styling business. Well, it's a stool and a mat on the floor, but
it's a business.
On the first floor, another NGO has turned a couple parts of the lobby
into school rooms. They don't have benches, books, or school supplies,
but they have a chalk board and some people who teach. When I went to
the hotel, there were a kindergarten, 1st, and 2nd grade class all in
session. And of course they were about as excited to see two white men
as all Liberian children are - and that's REALLY happy. Bouncing,
laughing, talking, smiling.
"The Hotel" is a bit of a tourist destination for expats visiting or
passing through Monrovia. That in and of itself makes for quite the
strange sensation - everyone says you need to see this place, but to
actually go and walk through and maybe get a tour or talk with people
makes you feel tremendously rude and out of place. It was the worst
sensation to meet a group of expats from Mercy Ships coming out as we
were going in and another group of expats from MDM coming in as we
were going out. It felt a bit like somehow the nature of this place
had become an attraction - a distinctly perverse attraction. After
all, who would _want_ to go visit a building where for four years
thousands of people who were forced out of their homes by war, death,
rape, and poverty have been living, without any access to basic
services or amenities?
All the same, it does bring another type of gravity to the situation
here. Things are improving, but obviously it takes time.

After visiting the hotel Jens and I went to the Waterside market.
Waterside is where Monrovians go to buy things. It's a tremendously
dense section of Monrovia with hundreds and hundreds of stalls, sort
of loosely arranged by type of goods for sale. For instance, Jens and
I didn't spend much time in the 'curtains' section, but lots of time
in the football (soccer) paraphenalia section. Of course, there's
quite a bit of intermingling.
But to the point - it is a distinctly good way to get a feel for the
city. It's full of people hawking all sorts of wares. It's crowded,
smelly, there's piles of trash and refuse littering the street, and
you definitely have to watch where you walk. But it's full of the
people and atmospherically filled with their spirit. For the first
time since I arrived I finally got a bit of a feel for Liberia, I
think. The way they walk or talk together, argue, buy stuff - just
really a feel for everyday life for people who live here. I've spent
so much time in the various compounds in Sanniquellie and Monrovia
that I hadn't yet gotten at all a sense for that before. But I really
do feel like maybe I have a better sense of 'normal' for someone who
lives here. I think that's important.

Then, at the reverse side of things, I went out to dinner and brunch.
I arrived early in Monrovia because another expat (Jens, from Germany)
needed to take a weekend break in the capital - to get away for a
weekend. Since he was going down anyway, to conserve resources and
such, we decided to just have me go along as well. So we came in on
Friday evening. In any case, as part of his 'relaxing weekend' he very
reasonably wanted to do relaxing things. We had a very nice dinner
with Yuri and Sebastian nearby the compound on Saturday evening, with
real western style food in an african restaurant. That was OK. Then
Saturday night we attended a going-away party for the Head of Mission
for MSF-Belgium (just down the street from us here) where all sections
were invited and national staff attended.

Sunday we got up and went to brunch at the Royal Hotel. That was a bit
too much. I could have been sitting in the dining room at a Holiday
Inn. Air conditioned, with a full spread of totally western food, and
attending were only expats. No africa-africans to be seen. The food
was good, but really it was an unsettling feeling.

After that we went to the beach, where, well, if you read the previous
post, you have a good idea what happened. But it was nice to sit and
relax and read a book and listen to the surf and watch the waves and
such. And, honestly, until I got back to base I thought I was OK -
even Jens said he was surprised "When we left the beach you were still
white as a ghost! Now you're really, reallly red!"

I get along great with Jens - he's a really cool guy; very relaxed and
down-to-earth. He's an anesthesiologist. Unfortunatley, he's leaving
in April. Ah, well. It'll be fun while it lasts. He and I definitely
have a good time together.

Then in the evening we started the workshop on the new software,
which, well, I'm still not too keen on, but I have to do it.
Today was more software, and every day from here until the 15th. It'll
be fine in the end, I have no doubts.
Now I'm to bed. Sleep well.
taj

Imagine, if you will...

A splendid beefsteak tomato. Picture it hanging on the vine, in the
middle of summer. It has been waiting for months to be ripe, and has
fully matured over the last weeks. It has been basking in the sun of
hot summer for months. The skin, shimmering and deep in its redness,
has finally reached a superlative crimson tone.

This, approximately, is the color of my skin after a day at the beach.

Despite my best intentions, despite three coats of SPF30 sunblock and
spending most of the day (6 of 8 hours) in the shade of the papol hut,
I have managed to emerge from the day a brilliant - some might say
blinding - garnet lustre.

*sigh*

Back in Monrovia

After only two weeks in Sanniquellie, I find myself once again in
Monrovia, this time for a training for new logistics software that's
supposed to make my life easier. We'll see...

But, I'm once again in the big city...with everything that entails.
I'll be here for two weeks straight.

Even just two weeks in Sanniquellie, the shift back to Monrovia is
surprisingly jarring. Compared to Sanniquellie (well, probably
compared to anywhere else), Monrovia is sprawling, hot, crowded, and
noisy. But hopefuly I'll have a good time.

Off to an IDP camp...more as I get a chance.

ciao

A few thoughts on: Food.

I've only been here two weeks. As such, I feel compelled to be honest
and state that my perspective on this matter may very well change over
the next 8.5 months.

But, suffice to say, for now: the food is great!

Granted, we've been very lucky these last two weeks that we've had
lots of food brought up on kiss movements from Monrovia (a kiss
movement is where one car leaves each location, in this case Monrovia
and Sanniquellie, and meet in the middle, exchange cargoes, and head
back to home). As a result, we've had a lot of chicken, cheese,
olives, even some chocolates and the like.

Our project is (relatively) unique in that for some reason they've
decided to have the cook on duty 7 days a week. Most projects
apparently have the cook only 5.5 days per week, leaving Saturday
nights and Sundays up for grabs as to what happens. But we've got a
cook here all day, every day.

I could get used to this :)

Breakfast is at one's leisure, nothing is prepared. The team keeps a
stock of corn flakes, powdered milk (Nido), honey, sometimes bread
(not very good I must admit), peanut butter, sometimes it has
preserves, and instant coffee. I'm not much of a breakfast person, but
I am trying to make sure I get three meals a day, so I've started
eating cornflakes and powdered milk. It's not that bad!

Lunch is prepared by the cook(s): Rebecca on M-Th, Kou on F-Su.
There's always protein, usually one animal and one vegetable (we've
got vegetarians), and at least one type of starch, typically rice.
(Meat) Proteins vary from dried fish, fresh fish, beef (uncommon),
goat, and chicken if we have it brought up from Monrovia. Vegetable
proteins are usually lentils, and so far I've had at least three
different colors. We had canned pork & beans once. Right now we're
smack dab in the middle of pineapple season, and damn they're fine. I
think I could eat ripe pineapple all day every day. Sometime in June
mango season starts and I'm excited about that!
Vegetables are in relatively short supply here, so we don't get much.
I'm compensating by eating heaps of pineapple. Yesterday we had a
papaya, but it wasn't fully ripe yet. Coconuts grow out back (behind
the latrines...).

Dinner is whatever is left over from lunch, plus another round of
something cooked. Same kind of things, but two proteins and two
starches or three. Leftovers go to the guards.

So...style of food? The only thing I can come up with is west african.
I certainly recognize that my exposure to African food is apparently
quite small. Like most food from tropical climates, it's heavily
seasoned to mask, of course, the flavor of things gone bad. They make
liberal use of hot peppers (yay!). Spices themselves? I've recognized
cumin, coriander, tumeric...maybe nutmeg. I'm still working on that
one. Lots of saucy/curry type dishes (but no curry). At some point
I'll start asking what things are.

People who sell things on the side of the road may have grilled kabob
type things (i've not been here long enough to risk trying one), they
also have bags of kool-aid type beverages (again, not brave enough
yet), and, well, other things. I've not been out of the compound that
much, honestly.

There's more, but there are nine of us here and a queue forming for
the one internet computer. My time is up.

Ciao
taj

Duotiayee clinic

Earlier this week I made my first trip out to one of the four clinics for which I will be "responsible".
This clinic is located in the village of Duotiayee. A note to those interested in pronuciation in Liberia - pretty much, you pronounce everything. So, Duotiayee is pronounced "due-oh-tea-eye-ee".
Duotiayee serves as a Primary Health Center for the village and catchment population of approximately 10,000. Note, though, catchment population essentially means "how many people could walk to the clinic in a day", so the figure is quite large. The region itself is sparsely populated.
The trip to the clinic takes approximately one hour by TLC (Toyota Land Cruiser). The road is pretty much nonexistant for much of this trip. However, it suffices, at least during the dry season. When the wet season comes in April it may be a different story.
MSF-H supplies the clinic with materials and drugs that the MoH (Ministry of Health) has no money for. In this case, that's everything. We also have one doctor and one nurse who make weekly trips to the clinics (there are four total) to do consults. The clinic serves as an outpatient service only. There are a few beds (three) in the clinic just in case of emergency, but as there are really no staff on shift in the evenings they truly are "emergency" beds.
So, what does Taj do with all this? Quite a bit, and not much at all, as it turns out.
I'm responsible for making sure the clinic runs properly and has what it needs to be a functional clinic. So far, this week and the coming one, this will include: building a kitchen attached to the clinic, tearing off the mudded walls and plastering them properly, whitewashing said walls, laying new concrete floor for much of the clinic, arranging for new shelves for the pharmacy, installing a new incinerator for medical waste, building a proper bamboo fence around the clinic, cleaning the well, installing proper well containment, and installing a hand pump. Oh, and building latrines in the village itself.
Yep.
Now, in point of fact, obviously that's a tremendous amount of work. Truthfully, my job on this clinic will mostly consist of being a bit of a 'foreman' for the whole thing. It's unlikely that I'll actually do any of the above list myself. I'll negotiate the contracts (with the help of my local assistant, David), agree on payments, designs, and plans, and be in charge of the project being successfully completed.
I _hope_ that at some point my job will be a bit more than that, if for no other reason than I'd really like to pick up some of these things myself and help out - if only to learn. But for now, I'm going with the system in place. I think its good, really, in that I'll be able to do much more this way, but I don't want to do it like this forever.
Honestly, however, I've only been in the project for a week and don't have a solid idea of how this is really going to work. I likely won't have such a picture until the end of March.

This picture I took as we were passing through a village on the way to Duotiayee. This village is representative of the small-ish villages in the area. It's not tiny, but it's big enough to have actual houses of mud-brick and plastering.
The nationals seem quite fond of MSF. I had a wrong story before, and should correct it: MSF did NOT pull out in 2000/2001. MSF-Holland left the country because all the needs MSF could fill were filled - there simply was nothing to do. Four other MSF sections stayed in Liberia during the ensuing years and conflict. In 2003, MSF-H went back in to address some particular critical care issues, such as medical access here in Nimba county.
As a result of this, MSF has quite the reputation in Liberia - it's the ONLY NGO that did NOT leave during the war. This gives us quite a bit of credibility, both domestically and with other iNGOs in the country and the UN. MSF is well enough liked that when I entered the country, carrying my two bags plus two full duffel bags of gear and parcels for the project teams, a customs official came to make sure I didn't have any trouble getting my bags, clearing customs or immigration, and finding my driver. So where the rest of the passengers on the aircraft spent some time waiting for the stuff and in lines to enter the country, I pretty much just breezed through.
But anyway, the road to Duotiayee is long, twisty, and bumpy. It's actually only about 12 kilometers to the clinic, but it takes an hour to get there. On the way you pass through many small villages where the people are of course very excited to see you, especially if you're in an MSF truck. The picture is just one I took from the back of the TLC at one of many hoardes of children that ran from their huts/houses to wave at us going by and shouting "quigloo, quigloo!" which means "white person, white person!" in Manu (one of the tribal languages in the region). The proper response would be "meetee! meetee!" which means "african, african!".

This picture is from the back of the truck on the same trip, only here we're back in Sanniquellie town, heading back to the compound. The townies are much less excited about our presence, but we still receive a friendly greeting. I'll have much more to write on Sanniquellie town when I get a chance - hopefully tomorrow.

I still have so much to write on, about my first week here, my team, my living conditions, the work I've done so far, challenges I see coming, etc. It seems clear at this point that I'll likely only get a real chance to update this blog on the weekends - we're too busy and the internet is occupied during the week with real work. However, I'm going to do my best to get more photos, maybe a movie, and definitley more of what I'm thinking/feeling/doing up for everyone to read.

So, I'll try to write more tomorrow. For now, I'm off to a football match between national staff and expats. I don't yet know if I'm going to play - I'm not well acclimated to the weather (35C in the shade during the day) and fear that playing soccer may well kill me. But, we'll see.

Ciao for now - all my best from Liberia.

Liberia: country of optimism!

I'm in Sanniquellie, Liberia. For those that may not know, Sanniquellie is in north-east Liberia, close to the border between Cote D'Ivoire and Guinea. It's a town of approximately 10,000 people (of course, by western standards, you wouldn't think that many people live here) in Nimba county.

Sanniquellieis at about 1000 meters...giving it a bit of elevation. This helps, actually, although I've yet to see it, I've heard that the heat isn't so bad up here and that Sanniquellie can get tropical 'breezes'which help to mitigate the extreme temperature.

Certainly, the temperature has been hot. I don't think it's been under 30C since I've arrived. What I can say for sure is: it's bloody hot!

I've got heaps of stuff I want to share, but I find only a limited time to do so. I thought I'd make my first real post about the project here more of an overview of what I've observed in the last week.

 

Liberia is a ruin. 15 plus years of civil and uncivil wars have left the country in a state that's unimaginable. The native Liberians actually refer to three different phases of the war - different struggles for different power groups happened at different times - they refer to the phases as World War I, WWII, and WWIII. They use this information to help you know what happened when. For example, when I asked one of the drivers when it was he started living in Sanniquellie town, he said that he moved here between WWII and WWIII. This, for him, perfectly encapsulated the information - sometime between the conflict between LURD & the government and the conflict between MODEL and the government, he and his family were forced to leave the coast and headed for the Guinean border.

 

I should preface the rest of my story with the knowledge that I've never been to the developing world to speak of. All of my impressions I think should be taken with a grain of salt. However, at the same time I have already discussed much of this with the team here in Sanniquellei (SA) and I feel like I have some authority to say what I'm about to say.

 

Liberia is exceptional among developing countries (shares with only a few right now) in that quite literally the last two decades have been spent destroying everything that was in place. Before the war, by African standards, the country was quite rich. It has a remarkable amount of natural resources at its disposal in the form of rubber trees, iron ore, diamonds, bannanas, etc. and as a result (before the war) had quite an infrastructure built all around the country. The bombed out remnants of this infrastructure is frequently still visible. 

 

Monrovia looks like...well...a bomb went off in it. Everywhere you go, you cannot help but notice the fact that the walls are full of bullet holes and burned out shells of buildings stand filled, frequently, with squatters who have no place to live. Like many developing cities, in every available space people who are trying to eke out their lives have put together whatever they can to provide themselves with some sort of shelter or housing. They've piled into partially destroyed apartment complexes with half of the building lying in rubble around it, simply because at least it provides cover from the rain.  

 

I can go more into that in the future. I have not yet been here long enough that I have a good feel for the place. The one thing that I can say for sure is just what the title of this post refers to: it is a country of optimism.

 

Everywhere you go, you see evidence of people thinking that now things are different. The new president, with the backing of much of the western world, is beginning to rebuild the once influencial nation many of the residents were raised in. Everyone has tremendously high hopes for what this governement will accomplish; indeed, some of them even recognize that it's possible she won't do everything herself but will lay important groundwork for years to come.

But the optimism is quite spectacular. Especially in the face of the destruction they face every day and the remarkably extreme poverty they endure, the optimism frequently shows on their faces. Talking with anyone you meet - anyone at all - reveals their confidence that: now things are going to change. Now things are going to get better. Now the electricity will start to run. Now the water will work again, the sewage system will be restored, people will have jobs, industry and investment will return. In short, these people who have suffered through so much war and death, ensconsing an entire generation of the country, have something to look forward to.

 

So, I suppose, here I sit in Sanniquellie, hoping to be part of what they expect to see happen.

 

For now, anyway, I have a tremendous load of responsibilities to cope with. First and foremost, I am being called to dinner.

 

I'll try to write again soon.

ciao-

taj

Alive and sweating in Monrovia

Made it to Liberia just fine and am now hanging out in the Country Management Team Base in Monrovia. I'll be here for another day or two before heading out to the project in Sanniquellie. It's hot...not middle-of-death-valley hot, but definitely hot, and i'm trying to make sure I stay properly hydrated. I've got heaps of thoughts and impressions to pass on, but I actually don't have time right now to type too much. I've been in briefings since I arrived on all kinds of things, and have more to do. Tomorrow, I get to do a full medical stock count of the CMT Store...a good introduction to my work here.

So, just thought I'd post a quick one so everyone knows I've officially started my wild and crazy adventure!

 

Lots to talk about

I had been hoping to write quite a bit here in the airport in Brussels but seem to have been stymied by a remarkable keyboard where nothing is in the right place. Ive got quite a lot of interesting stuff from the last few days...but, judging by how long its taken me to get this far on the post, Im going to wait until later to post the infomation. My apologies for the bad punctuation but I cannot for the life of me find the apostrophe.

Talk to you all fro, Liberia...
taj

And so I go...

Well, my flight leaves tomorrow morning at 0615. I fly to Brussels, then switch carriers and fly straight from Brussels to Monrovia where (supposedly!) there will be an MSF driver there to pick me up.
Stress level is pretty high but quite acceptable.
It's been quite remarkable for me the last few days that even though I haven't received much information on what/where/who/why/how my stress level has been much more manageable. I credit this to being in the MSF office where I've been surrounded by folks with similar mind-sets and moral values. In addition, they've all been through what I'm going through - at some point, everyone (with very few exceptions) in the MSF office in A'dam has been a first missioner. So, it can't be that bad, right?
I've got an awful lot to write about, but not so much time and I have to be up at 0400 tomorrow. As such I'll probably try to wait and see if I can get to it when I get some down-time in the field.
Ciao, all, see you in nine months!

Travel, briefing (pt. II), and more

Here I am in Amsterdam again - it sure seems like I was just here! Everything felt strangely familiar when I arrived...it was much more comfortable arriving in Schippol this time than it was last time. The jet lag, the strangeness of the airport, the customs process: the impact of everything was much less taxing than it was the last time I came through. I guess at this point it seems almost familiar - at least international arrivals does.

So...the last few days have certainly flown by. I had two nights in New York which were nice. Thursday night was a bit of a blur, with emotions from having left Seattle hitting me quite strongly. Found my hotel (after a 3 hour shuttle ride), rustled up some dinner at a local Irish place, and pretty much crashed. Friday was the infamous briefing in New York, which in retrospect I appreciate more than I let on previously. The information was certainly useful/helpful, just not for the next nine months. If I had attended Welcome Days in New York instead of the PPD course in Holland, I wouldn't have had to stop by on Friday. Since I went to Holland (and I'm glad I did...the Welcome Days is much less comprehensive) I was required to get a little bit of face-time in NYC.
Friday night I met up with my good friend Sarosh, who lives in DC. When he heard that I was going to be in New York for an evening, he decided that would be a good time to visit his sister who lives in Manhattan. It was really nice - I hadn't seen him for nigh on 9 months, if not longer. And it was particularly nice to finally get to meet some of his extended network - including his sister Zu, some folks I'd first heard about from Tania waaaay back at BU (Fowzi), and Noam and others...These are all folks I've heard all kinds of wild tales about for almost 10 years...which is quite a hoot, really. The whole idea that someone I met in college (Tania) happened to know someone I met 5 years later in Seattle (Sarosh) and they all knew the same people...well, that still blows my mind even now.
Saturday morning bright and early I went to meet my brother Z, sister-in-law Amy, and their two absolutely stunning little ones Willow and Elliot. We met for dim sum in Chinatown where we probably spent almost two hours noshing and talking (and, for me, playing "I Spy" with Willow). Elliot was the hit of the retaurant - all of the staff wanted to play with him and hold him and get him to smile, which he did with aplomb! Once we finally decided we were stuffed (and we were definitely stuffed), we headed out to walk a bit to get to some bakeries that Z had identified through his multitude of baking books as 'places I need to go'. The first one was closed as it was a jewish bakery and of course it was saturday. The second one was a fairly hopping, trendy kind of place, but the pastries were quite good. From there, we went back to Chinatown, picked up the car, and Z & Amy took me to Newark (ahead of the storm) to fly to Heathrow.
It was very, very nice to see them. Both the kids are growing up so fast it's incredible, and I don't see Z and Amy often enough. While it would have been nice to get to go out to Allentown and finally see their house and relax a bit, I'm glad I stayed in NYC - I think the added stress of leaving the city and having to come back in would have gotten to me.
Second to when I departed from Seattle (and Sky), I was probably hit hardest emotionally when Z & Amy left me at the airport. Having mulled it over a bit, I can definitely say that I recognized, when they left that it was the last time I would see a friendly familiar face for the next nine months. That was a hard one for me...took me a bit of time to go ahead and work through it; to recognize, accept, and transform the emotions. I'm feeling a lot better now :) Fortunately, I feel I'm someone who makes friends easily and is generally pretty amicable, so I'm quite excited to get opportunities to get new friendly, familiar faces to add to my list.
From NYC I flew to Heathrow in an airplane that I think contained every Indian family that had a small (read: infant) child and its grandmother. Lots and LOTS of infants and fussy grandma's on the flight - made for quite a ride. Got to Heathrow, had _another_ 5 hour wait for my flight, during which time I strongly believe I could have walked to A'dam if it weren't for the bloody channel. The flight from London to A'dam takes about 45 minutes. Got in last night, caught a shuttle to the Hotel Arena (where I stayed last time), scrounged up some excellent green pea soup with rye bread and bacon (note to self and others: the dutch serve their "bacon" cured only - not fried or cooked), had a heinekin or two while thinking that I should stay up until at least 10PM...and then I literally woke up, having fallen asleep right there at the table in the cafe. Not for more than a few seconds, but it was certainly a bit unexpected! Went to bed about 8:30PM and woke up this morning at 8AM. Excellent night's sleep, and not feeling too jet-lagged!

So here I sit in the library at the MSF (Artsen zonder Grenzen) in A'dam, waiting for my briefing to begin. It turns out I didn't need to be here until 11AM, not the 9AM I was originally told. i think I'll go have some of that good Dutch coffee, maybe read a country report on Liberia or something.
Take care all - I'll write as often and much as I can (when there are things worth writing about)...

Briefing

Started briefing today in NYC...Surprisingly little to cover, really. They don't have a lot of specifics. I get an office tour, a bit of meet-and-greet, some overview of MSF-NY policies and procedures (which by and large won't have anything to do with me as I'll be in the field). So far, so good. The tension and anxiety I was feeling yesterday (during the flight especially) seems to have subsided pretty much entirely, leaving me just sort of...anxiously excited!

The word from my HRM is that as I get closer to the project, I'll get more and more actual details about what I'll be doing and the context of the situation. For now, it's pretty broad-strokes and not actually anything about the mission itself. Which is OK.

Offices in New York are nice, right on 7th (Fashion) Ave, big offices, lots of staff (more than I expected...probably 60 people work here). They're close to the hotel which is not nearly as nice and a bit dingy.

New York is absolutely frigid right now and they're expecting snow this weekend (the news says "Severe Nor'Easter"), which makes me a bit nervous about the flight I'm supposed to be on tomorrow, but, hey! que sera, sera, right?

And so it begins...

Arrived this afternoon in NYC. I go to the MSF-NY offices tomorrow to start my briefings and on Saturday I fly to Amsterdam.
Leaving today was hard. Saying goodbye to Sky was really hard. But I know I'll be back soon.

I've officially started my adventure!
Happy birthday, Kats!

Wow...

My flight leaves tomorrow morning at 8AM. Even knowing that it's not actually taking me to Liberia it's still a bit surreal.
Not surreal that way most international travel has been for me (that sort of pre-departure lack of acknowledgement that something is going to happen, just going about my business and then, whoops! hello New Zealand!), but unearthly in much more of a "I can't believe I'm actually going to DO this."
So...yep. I can't believe I'm going to DO this!

Huh.

some rambling...

The first few days after I accepted the mission were pretty well fraught with all sorts of emotions...nervousness, anxiety, tension, fear...i had a fairly big lump in my gut as a result of all the unknowns and the fairly daunting nature of the news. That's not to say these weren't accompanied by a healthy dose of excitement as well...they most definitely were. Excitement, happiness, sense of an upcoming adventure, happy-surprise that I actually got a mission.Since that time, things have...gelled...a bit more for me. The nerves and fear are pretty much gone, for now. I expect to experience a resurgence of them as the departure date gets right in-my-face.

But at this point, I'm settled into being enthusiastic about this whole thing...what I'm getting in to, what I'll be experiencing, the work I'll be doing for MSF. I've come to grips, internally, with the fear I was feeling about my role (whether or not I am up to the task). I've accepted that I just don't know, that I'll do the best I can do, and that will be enough. I have to presume that MSF thinks I can do the job or they wouldn't send me. I'll get there, I'll learn, and I'll make it work.

Packing, for people who have decided what they want to pack

Well, for better or for worse, here's what I'm going with:
3 short sleeve button-down tshirts
2 pair shorts
1 pair trousers
1 pair super-high-tech, quick-dry, sun-proof, ultra-light, extra-gadget-holding, wacky-belt-looped, million-pocketed, zip-off things.
6 pair undergarments/socks (for those that must know, the answer is 'trunks'...)
A toiletry bag that's absolutely jam-packed with things I hope never to need, including all sorts of different stomach-trouble ailments (and shampoo)
flip-flops (or tevas, I still haven't decided...)
decent leather shoes
hat (aussie hat! yeah!)
a couple normal t-shirts (for when I get sick of the MSF ones)
Other stuff- head lamp, penlight, mp3 player, little tiny digital camera, assorted power & functional cables for said items, extra batteries...

I'll be wearing one pair of trousers, a long sleeve t-thing, a bulky flannel shirt, a goretex jacket, and hiking boots. I wish i could manage not to bring the bulky warm stuff, but it's freezing cold in Amsterdam and I'll have at least two days there...maybe I'll send it home before I leave.

Boy...I feel like perhaps I'm missing something. That can't be it. Ah well, if it isn't I'll add more later.

Suffice to say, it's been a fun challenge trying to figure out what the hell to put in my backpack, and while the input of others was appreciated, it didn't help clarify for me...For example, I asked the project team if I should bring more shorts or full-length trousers, and what for my feet. Two expats responded. One said "we almost never wear trousers, and are always in flip-flops", and the other said "we almost never wear shorts, and you should bring sandals and hiking boots".
Well, gee, thanks.

So, hopefully I've hit some sort of happy medium...If I'm horribly lacking in something or another, you'll for sure hear about it as soon as I can get to an internet connection. The post will be something to the effect of "for God's sake, send me some XXX!!! I'm dyin' here!"

Calm before the storm...

Well, that's not totally fair - I'm not expecting this to be a storm. However, it's a nice cliche, even if it's not entirely appropriate. After all, if the shoe mostly fits...

Last weekend (my last weekend before I start my travels), I made a trip home to see my Mom, Dad, sister and brother-in-law, brother and sister-in-law-to-be, and generally get a bit of face to face time before I go.
Flew out on Saturday, after much delay from the pesky wind-storm...Got in to MSP around 7:30, folks picked me up, went to a hotel, had some dinner, slept (poorly), got up, went to the Mall of America (wow!) did a little miscellaneous shopping, had some dinner, and left.
Whirlwind trip!
But, it was definitely nice, and really nice to see my family before I go (i'll see my other brother and sister-in-law in New York, outbound to A'dam). It was a bit strange, though, in part because of the duration (about 24 hours) and, in part, because of the circumstances.
After all, I'm only going to be gone for 9 months...That's not really too long in the grand scheme of things, and some years I'll go a full year or more between seeing the family. Sure, this time I'm going to Liberia in the meantime, but, all told, it's really not that much time.

Mall of America - for those unfamiliar, it's a big freakin' mall. Actually, that was kind of neat, I hadn't been there since I was 18...but they didn't really have anything I needed.

Back to the point - I did want to make sure I got home before I left. The biggest reason was to make sure all of my family got the face-time to ask me questions they might have about my trip...expectations, fears, plans, activities, that sort of thing. I guess I must be writing a lot on this blog as they didn't really have too many of these. But I think the principle was important - or at least it was important for me. Some good ones came up, but I realized that I have, perhaps, been trying not to know TOO much about what/where/how/when to avoid building up expectations.

So, that was that. Since then I've been flying around Seattle trying desparately to get everything ready before I go...there're more bits and pieces to square away than I thought possible. Gah. I've got a big list and at this point only about 36 more hours before I leave.

More later!

Last day of work

Friday saw, for me, the end of an era. First, however, let me apologize for not posting in over a week - it's been really, really busy...I'll get back to what I was up to later.

For just shy of four years, I've been working for the Northwest Immigrant Rights Project. In many regards, I'm quite relieved to be done. In others, I'm sad to see it over.

Many of you know it hasn't been the easiest four years for me, with a tremendous number of ups and downs. Now, having had a chance to read through MSF's handy 'Stress In The Field' handbook, I recognice the following: I was officially burnt out.

It's a long a sordid story as to how I got that way, most of the details of which I won't share here, but anyone who wants the long version is free to write me and request it.

To summarize: About 6 months in to my work there, I was somehow caught in the crossfire in a showdown between the Staff and the Management. For the first six months at NWIRP, I was out there, in the middle of things, joined lunch club, hanging out with folks, going out after work, etc. Generally, doing those things that one does when you are enjoying your job and the people you work with. Then 'the crossfire' started, and I ended up feeling quite betrayed and hurt by a number of people who were on staff at the time, and I was unwilling, from that point on, to let myself be exposed to that risk again. Of course, the easiest way to not be betrayed by your 'friends' is not to have them in the first place...but that doesn't make for a great time.
I was again placed at odds with the staff when the interim Executive Director started, as I was suddenly being held to a standard that others in the agency were not (I was reporting directly to her, and few others were). As a result, I spent the last three years with my head down, doing my job and getting it done, but rarely fraternizing or enjoying my work from that point on. If it hadn't been for the belief I had in the work that the agency was doing, I would have left in a heart-beat. As it was, I identified with the tremendous impact that the work had on the community, and felt that I could continue to function in my role whether or not I was personally 'involved' with the staff day-to-day.
So, for the last 3 years, I've been plugging along, keeping the agency running in the best way I could (without any funding, of course. A note to any future budget controllers out there: if you want an infrastructure that works and systems that function, you have to FUND THEM! Otherwise, you end up with duct tape and superglue, and no one's happy). Over the course of my time, I actually got a lot done, and quite a few of the big projects I first identified at NWIRP were accomplished: moving, a new phone system, a server-side overhaul, new desktops and generally improving the overall quality of IT and systems. But, those goals aside, I was pretty isolated from the staff.

So it was a pleasant surprise for me positive going-away that I got from the staff. Especially considering how insular I and my activities tended to be, I was...well, not overwhelmed, but...surprised...that quite a few people on staff showed up for a bit of a going-away cake celebration, that folks had kicked down for a gift (much appreciated, BTW!), and particularly happy with the number of people who showed up for after work drinks on Friday evening. That was really nice, really. The whole thing honestly made me feel a bit bad about my interactions over the last three years, but I don't know, truly, whether I would have changed my behavior if I had known this or not...who can say? I'll mull that one over for a few years and get back to you.

I can certainly say that I still feel the impact of the results of the first six months, but I'm hoping that the closure of this chapter will help me get back to where and how I used to be at work.