w@r n stuff

I choose to work in a w@r zone.  To be honest, you're not really aware of it every moment of every day- its more of a minor intrusion of low flying h3lic0pters that rattle the windows every hour or so and an inbox constantly popping up grisly 'incident reports' that don't bear reading... but on the whole, life (other than cross cultural issues which I'm sure will fill up many a blog post to follow) feels relatively... normal.  That is- until I heard my first expl0sion and it sunk into my psyche that people really are packing themselves, or vehicles with 3xpl0sives and blowing themselves up.
And it really upsets me.

It is not my place to comment on the motivations or dynamics of this war, but somehow shooting or bludgeoning each other to death makes a whole lot more sense to my psyche than self d3t0nation.

For those who haven't heard a su1c1de b0mb3r d3t0nate themselves...and trust me, I'm struggling just to type those words...it sounds like, well, sometimes like thunder. I woke up to a deep rolling boom one morning and had my run bag in my hand and the curtains open praying it was raining- so fast I hadn't even really woken up. The sky was blue, well, pollution haze blue, but not a storm cloud in sight.  We found out later it was a truck that pulled up next to a G0vernment Minister on her way to work. 'Only' 5 casualties.

The next evening, quite late, three went off in a row, with deep ground shuddering thumps like a fireworks display. It was a was a co-ordinated @ttack and was followed up (according to my inbox the next morning) with an @rmed raid on a compound a few suburbs away.

I flew out for my RnR break the next day and the city was on edge. Check points everywhere. On my way into the airport our car was searched twice, I was patted down (by women) FIVE TIMES and my luggage was scanned four times.  Seems Im not the only one jumpy about 3xpl0sions.

In the last week there have been three more- all targetted at foreigners, which raises the question of whether the c0nflict itself is escalating, or whether there has merely been a change in tactics and resource allocation.  Time, and the security analysts, will tell.

But it got me wondering what constitutes 'w@r' and how many others might be going on in the word that might not be making it to the news - and you know what REALLY surprised me?
In terms of cumulative and annual casualties, the second biggest conflict to the 5yrian crisis is...the Mexican drug war! So says wikipedia. Check it out if you're interested:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_ongoing_armed_conflicts

The psychology of 'lock down'

I've only been here 4 days, but I'm already struggling with the concept of not being allowed 'out'.

For our own safety we have a very short list of 'places we go' that have all passed a rigorous security check, and all our movements are very closely tracked.  Sunday I went for brief trip with a colleague and a driver to one of the Ministries to register my presence in the country. Then yesterday, in anticipation of a potentially inflammatory press conference in the city, the office was closed early, the local staff went home and us foreigners were put on 'lock down'.
For those who have been here a while it meant ordering in pizza and watching a grid iron game.  But
I was horrified. I know our movements are highly restricted, but somehow categorically not being allowed to leave the building made me desperately want to get out even more.  I found some peace on the roof where, under all my layers of material I can look out over the sprawling city and see where the haze blends into the mountain tops. I can watch the kites and the pigeons and people doing what I can not- walking on the streets.

By this evening the press conference hadn't eventuated and some of my colleagues wanted to go to the supermarket, so I excitedly agreed and a few hours later we were off :-) all appropriately dressed, into the car, doors locked, radio check-in to say we are leaving the compound, gates opened, driven out into the street and to the supermarket which really resembled a small 3 storey department store.  No wide, automated doors here- a small door at the side marked 'entrance' takes you to a guard who frisks the men and then you make your way up a narrow flight of stairs to the collection of foreign products above. Im ashamed to say I spent almost $70 on snack food etc - but when every aspect of your life feels controlled by someone else, its nice to know that you have a stash of almonds, or potato chips :-)

The male shop attendant akwardly serves us and we file back out- straight into the waiting vehicle, home via the back streets with a radio check in that we have arrived back.  Hardly a day out BUT Im not complaining.  This is how we stay safe in the city, and I will have much more freedom when I start working rurally.  My mind wanders to how Im going to survive 3 months in winter when we're all locked in this building with meters of snow outside. It really doesn't bear thinking about. I think I'll have some potato chips :-)

First impressions

Flying in from the south, this country looks like a moonscape from the air.  Mountains with deep valleys as far as the hazy horizon in monochrome dusty yellow.  I desperately wanted to take photos, but that involved getting my camera from a bag in the overhead locker and disturbing the 2 men sitting next to me who hadn't so much as looked at me the duration of the flight.  *sigh* I'm sure there will be plenty more opportunities.

Getting out of the airport carrying/dragging 40kgs of luggage about 600m through three ch3ckpoints out to the carpark was a mission in itself.  At 6.30am the sun was already high, the air hot and dusty, and lots of mens eyes followed the path of the strange foreigner pack-horse who's head scarf kept slipping back.  My ride was late enough for me to begin contemplating what finding my own way in this huge city might involve, but they were just held up by a random road closure and associated traffic chaos.

Safely in our compound, it’s dusk and I’m sitting on the balcony (all screened for s3cur1ty) listening to half a dozen m0squ3s calling the faithful. A goat bleating nearby, the thump of an axe on firewood combined with the thump of feet against a football and boys voices on the warm, dusty breeze. My long sleeves, baggy pants, dress and headscarf aren’t the coolest outfit around but during the day they protect me from stares and right now…from mozzies!


Above the green screen mesh I can see a blue grey sky that somehow still shows the yellow smog, with a 3/4 moon.  And a kite; just one to complete the image of this place I have read so much about.
My lips are dry. My hands are dry. The air sucks out moisture and deposits a fine layer of dust everywhere in its place. This is my new city home.

Our compound is heavy on ‘passive’ s3cur1ty. i.e. no 5uns, but every d3f3nse you can image.  The house over the road aren’t so worried about pacifism and have @rm3d patrols…and 80mb proofing. sobering. My room is on the 3rd floor with high windows (that I have to climb on my desk to see out) but its spacious and comfortable. We are not to walk outside our gates in the city. ever.  But we do have drivers to assist with getting the necessities done.  The city feels surprisingly relaxed…except for the traffic :-)

I have been very thankful to spend most of today meeting LOTS of colleagues (i don't know how I'm ever going to remember all their names!), in briefings and will soon have the opportunity to go to the field with colleagues to watch and learn before I have to knuckle down and do my job. I am very thankful for this.

The things I have found the hardest (in all of 1.5 days!) is lack of sleep, the frequent sound of large h3l1c0pt3rs just cruising over the city and remembering not to drink the water from the tap (and all the associated food hygiene logistical challenges of cooking safely).  But overall, I think I'm gonna fit in here pretty well.

Doing it tough, waiting for a visa

The last month has been surreal. A blur of countries and new experiences... and, thanks to a Consulate in Geneva I haven't even reached my 'destination yet'! But thanks to that same Consulate, I have had the most wonderful opportunities to explore :-)

I spent a week near Lausanne in a dark room lit by the glow of powerpoint presentations in briefings, and recovered over the weekend with bbq's on the shores of Lac Leman and picking wild raspberries and strawberries at Rocher de Naye. 

The following week was more intense logistics training, so I recovered with a trip to Annecy in France, then down to Turin to visit a friend. 

The following week I finished up bits and pieces of homework and took an extended break to the nearest beach, which was Genova in Italy! Im afraid the beaches back home left these ones for dead, so I took to hiking through the Cinque Terre National Park instead. Just breathtaking.  The visa didn't come on its expected day so I stopped over in Milan on the way back...and now I'm back near Lausanne with plenty of time free to a good home!

the meadows of Rocher de Naye (Switzerland)

 View of Lac Leman form Rocher de Naye (Switzerland)

Lac Leman (Switzerland)

 Markets in Annecy (France)

 The canals of Annecy (France)

 Cycling around Turin (Italy)

 Turin

 The harbour in Genova (Italy)

 Genova Harbour

 Vernazza- a town in the Cinque Terre (Italy)

 The beach at Monterosso in the Cinque Terre

 Corniglia - the third town in the Cinque Terre

 Milan Train station (Italy)

 The Duomo in Milan

At the centre of the fashion capital- Milan

Airport update

What a blur the last few weeks have been!
Firstly - no jelly beans for the 4 jabs I had because I wasn't allowed to eat anything an hour before or after the fizzy raspberry flavoured dose of Cholera I had to take :-( poor me.

But everything else has run miraculously smoothly.  Finished up at work, possessions either packed to the sea container, packed to go with me or sent to the Op shop, lots of eating and drinking things I may not have the opportunity to enjoy for a while and LOTS of friend catch ups.  Never enough time and always heaps more people I'd love to see, but I think I did pretty well given the time.

I discovered that the problem with coming to love a place and its people- the problem with having a place to call 'home' is that its so heartbreaking to leave! I've felt so much peace about this journey but the bubbles of grief have been intense.

And now I sit at an airport in the Middle East, with flights being called in Arabic, observing the range of women's attire appropriate for this part of the world. Wondering how much 'life as I know it' is about to change.  Looking out across the tarmac to the white dust fog that blows off the desert and sits above the water, reducing the early morning sun to an outline of an orange globe... and yep, it feels pretty surreal.  Thankfully Im on my way to Europe for a few weeks briefing first. Time to sleep. Time to settle and consolidate.

another 'Jellybean' adventure

I'm baaaack...with the beginning of another 'Jellybean' adventure.

Yep, I had to book my travel vaccination appointment with a different clinic today because it's been so long since I traveled proper (round the world doesn't really count- cos you can get away with no jabs) that my usual clinic has shut down!  But I'm sure the new place will have jellybeans...surely...

So, I've signed another 2 year contract to follow my dreams, but its not Africa this time- it's central Asia. To be honest the country isn't one I've ever particularly wanted to visit...in fact I've never felt the urge to visit any of the '-istans'.   But the job. Managing food security projects in rural areas, making a real difference in peoples lives, using all this ridiculous privilege I inherited simply by being born- to sit, and listen and learn, and perhaps contribute something- even just an idea - to fan life and hope into flame.  That's where I'm happiest and that is opportunity I am taking.

My mind is full of all the things I need to do and pack and prepare; forms to fill in and tickets to book, end of financial year reporting and project handovers at work, tax...I think longingly of all the books I haven't made time to read.
My senses are full of noticing.  Noticing the way the majestic karri trees reflect the morning sun after rain like streaks of silver.  Noticing my last drive down a certain road, the way my dog gets so excited greeting me every evening...soaking in my planting sites, the sound of frogs, the damp cold air- what will they look like in 2 years?...what will I look like in 2 years? Indulging my every craving. Adrenalin means I can eat everything in sight and still lose weight. I take advantage.
And my heart is full. It is hard to leave, but perhaps harder for those left behind. Some understand, some don't. Some give their blessing with a tear- others ask 'what the f?" I don't like disappointing people. I don't like leaving, but I know when it's time.  I know the danger.  I'm the one trying to think up 'proof of life' questions after dinner.  The danger I will face is soberingly real.  The loneliness that I will face is soberingly real...but the potential!
which is probably why,with 2 weeks to go, I'm in spending my evening in the kitchen, baking chocolate chip cookies- the flavour of my childhood, feeling like a child...
in anticipation...
of the world.

Gratitude

I am reading a beautiful book called 'One thousand Gifts' that a friend gave me as  a graduation present. It was so timely, because my new years resolution (which I'm increasingly coming to believe must become a way of life) was 'to maintain an attitude of gratitude'.  I get pretty grumpy about life sometimes.  From the poverty I've witnessed in my life, I find it really difficult to work in a beautiful holiday town where beautiful people swan in to spend lots of money on their picture -perfect holidays - leaving their holiday houses and toys to sit, un-used for the other 50 weeks a year.  They drive and dress and act like they own the town and I... can get very self-righteous and have had some very uncharitable thoughts about them. So much ugliness comes from the sense of entitlement....and I've come to see gratitude as the antidote.
Then I came across the following few paragraphs.
Variations on a theme.

'I know there is poor and hideous suffering, and I've seen the hungry and the guns that  go to war. I have lived pain, and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks for early light dappled through leaves and the heavy perfume of wild roses and the song of crickets on humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that God gives. Why would the world need more anger, more outrage? How does it save the world to reject unabashed joy when it is the joy that saves us?  Rejecting joy to stand in solidarity with the suffering doesn't rescue the suffering.  The converse does.  The brave who focus on all things good, and all things beautiful and all things true, even in the small, who give thanks for it and discover joy even in the here and now, they are the change agents that bring fullest Light to the world. 
When we lay the soil of our hard lives open to the rain of grace and let joy penetrate our cracked and dry places, let joy soak into our broken skin and deep crevices, life grows. How can this not be the best thing for the world? For us? The clouds open when we mouth thanks.' pg 58