Refugees

As of 11pm last night my home became a refugee camp to 2 British women who had to evacuate their homes yesterday. I wasn’t prepared for this. I had of course prepared for the driver who is now living (much to my indignation and against my will) in a truck outside my home. And by prepared I mean of course I had bought enough food and provisions to cook for me and the driver during our ‘lock down’ (lets not forget the 3 guards of course, they are now a given), but now I have 2 extra mouths to feed.

You see today, since 3am this morning people have been standing in a queue waiting to vote in the general elections. By all accounts the queues aren’t moving, and people are standing in the wrong queues but lets forget this little point….

Its standard practice for charities to ground or ‘lock down’ their staff during these times. So as of now I am not allowed to leave my property until 8 am tomorrow.

To be fair though, the country pretty much locks its self down too, in terms of stopping all non official vehicle movement and people have been instructed to ‘vote, go home, stay home listen to the radio’ for the rest of today.

The other safety measure the charities have put in place is to move the cars into strategic positions, just in case any tension erupts and people have to be relocated. I lost the argument with the Director against having the driver live in the car outside my home for the next 3 days. The only reason I backed down was I was told my ‘safe house’ would be different to the French men and in the complete opposite direction– yippee, happy days, bring on the evacuation, free at last, free at last, God almighty I’ll be free at last!

I also had great pleasure in successfully challenging some of the other safety measure that my charity tried to enforce, like the ‘walking strictly forbidden in all circumstances’ statement. When I asked if they would be sending a nurse in to turn me and if I would be using nappies or a bed pan, they didn’t quite understand that they had in fact confined me to my bed. OK it was petty, but hey you’re not living with a man sleeping in a car outside your home giving you resentful glances!

Anyway amidst all our charities planning and preparations, and me shopping for a family of 5 (3 guards, 1 driver, me and….. oh OK…. I admit it, the stray dog that I’ve also taken to feeding = 6), for a protracted long lock down, VSO friends were looking on in quite a disparaging manner. They were open in expressing that they though all these actions were a little bit OTT. (To be honest my thought are not far behind them!) And I think somewhat proud at being the hardened British volunteers in the country enacting the ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ maxim.

Then yesterday 2 of these friend decided they had to leave their house after losing their own private battle against a bed bug infestation and so I offered them my spare room for the night while their house got fumigated. Amusingly they arrived at 11.30 last night slightly sheepish, with a mild look of horror on their face announcing that as of midnight they too have been totally grounded. Best of all until MONDAY! I couldn’t help laugh, which I think pissed them off a bit, but it was 12.01 so they couldn’t strop out! Saying that they have just taken an executive decision and gone out, breaking their curfew. I am not complained. We all realized at the same time that we had a serious and concerning problem - my house did not contain enough alcohol for 3 of us and so they literally have gone out on a beer run to the hotel next door!!

To be fair though, I’ve somehow landed myself quite well this election and dead impressed with my self preservation skills. Last I spent with diplomats and personnel from US government sitting by the Head of Security for West Africa at diner. On Thursday I spent the night at my friend who just happens to be the head of the security network for all the charities in the country. And now, despite the fact I possible don’t have the right quantity of food for 7 people (and the dog) beyond Monday, I have a guest who is a professional chef staying with me!! Fan-bloody-tastic. Grounded for days, with a chef  -Bingo – Sorted – this is the life!!

So, the only safety and security risk that this election so is posing me appears to the exposure to bed bugs and bankruptcy from feeding my ever growing dependants!!

XxX

Confectionary Wars

Anyone who’s done a pre-departure training to work overseas in development will have been given the lecture on the moment you hit a wall.

This imaginary wall is the moment you stop, look round and think – “what the F*** am I doing here”. It is soon followed by a barrage of negative, derogatory comments about the host county (which at that point isn’t feeling too damn welcoming as a host) and the rose tinted glasses are replaced by cataracts of shite.

Well I think this week I met this wall at full force.

The final nail in the coffin was when I was gently warned that if I uphold a contract that a partner wants to abuse he may use black magic against me. Is that so?!!! So this is how some healthcare professionals cope then is it??

Gosh, I struggle to understand why with such advanced management approaches the life expectancy in this county is only 48, and why close to 9% of women die giving birth. It’s a mystery to me!

But its OK don’t panic as I’ve provided myself with proper protection from the Black Magic, by scoffing a whole box of After Eight mints. I thought about Mars Bars, as a first line of defense, you know with him being the Roman God of War but I figured that After Eights had that sticky white centre to neutralize the Black. I think its worked, as other than feeling a bit sickly I’m not experiencing any stabbing pains as if a needle is being stabbed into my effigy and no snakes have appeared in my bed.

I am not clear how long I need to continue using this protection or if I should switch to a different approach, not sure which though – Miniature Hero’s, or should I use a whole Galaxy???

But in all seriousness its week like this that you realize that it would take forever to really understand the culture here, if you ever could. And you also wonder how many scars the 10 year rebel war left on the basic psychology of the society.

As we approach the presidential elections next week I am noticing, what I can only describe as a subconscious fear and tension sweep through the population. Everyone, including the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office are optimistic that all will go smoothly.

However, more than once I’ve been talking to people and totally out of context to the conversation they start to talk about being captured by the rebels or the time they had to flee into the mountains to escape. It’s strange, as although everything is peaceful, and the last election happened without incident, its as if the political activity and uncertainty is evoking a latent, remnant fear in people from the time politics brought devastation to their lives.

People are moving closer to their families and not willing to do anything that takes them too far away from their loved ones. They appear fearful to make decisions or do anything that could be misconstrued politically, even in the most tenuous of ways.

But unfortunately this translates into behaviours which are unprofessional and neglectful of their responsibilities and include lying, stealing and deception. But this is how they appear to cope.

So how do I cope?? Well apart from eating boxes of overpriced confectionary I try to remember the hell people lived through, and the wounds that I have come to believe most people are still nursing deep within.

But its not easy, and my head hurts from hitting that wall…. or maybe my effigy has been dropped on the floor headfirst!

Freaked Out

OK so here’s the deal. I was left in charge for a few days and, well, to be frank I didn’t like it much.

I didn’t like the fact that 2 members of staff ran away to Korea,

Or that another didn’t turn up for work for 2 days and on the 3^rd strolled in 2 hrs late

Not impressed by the mini-epidemic we appeared to get in the office which resulted in 3 staff having to go home early ‘sick’ each day.

Or by the driver who broke a serious security regulation by taking the car through a mass political rally against strict protocols

Nor did the 4 staff who abused the charity’s vehicle and made the driver take them home amuse me.

And I admit being slightly irritated by another driver who tried to steal money from.

And the same reaction was felt when the Koidu coordinator failed to tell me that there had been an outbreak of fighting in the city.

In fact I also wasn’t too chuffed by the builders who were so incompetent that the newly erected wall fell down.

Or by the air-conditioning maintenance team who flooded the finance office.

When the theft happened in Bo during the training and I got a message that the village witch hunters were being called to find the thief, I admit to being a bit disheartened.

And I know it’s only a little thing but when I found a member of my team sneaking around the whole building eating sweets left as gifts for people on their desks it made me a bit sad. Especially as her response to being found was a little giggle and a girlish confession “I like sweets”.

Luckily my manager and advisor, who decided ‘not to bother’ coming back into work after the training, will be none the wiser that their sweets are missing.

And even more fortunate is that neither they, nor any of the other missing personnel will have witnessed the best comedy strop of an acting Director that Africa has ever seen.

At 5.15 on Friday evening, I ‘flounced’.

I packed my bag in an over exaggerated manner, picked up the keys to the truck, and ‘swept’ out of the building, shouting over my shoulder in response to a questions fired at me:

“You will find I do not work weekend, it is now the weekend, so fare thee well”

I drove home, collecting a much needed Bounty bar and cider on the way, only to get home and discover I had left my keys in the office. It was somewhat with my tail between my legs that I had to drive all the way back to retrieve them. What makes it all the more hideous, is that when I got there the office was closed and so I had to call upon the man I had dismissed on leaving to also return. Ooops!

Can you imagine how much of a dick I felt?

Many people congratulated me on the construction of my fancy dress costume for last week’s party. Strange thing is guys – I didn’t bother – this is simply what I now look after being put in charge of an Aid Organisation in Africa!

Don't ask who the bones belong to!!!