finally in Africa!

This June 14^th I finally made my first trip to real Africa! I have been in Tunisia before but can’t call it the Africa most of us white, naïve Europeans look forward to discover, so we experience different habits, interact with locals, taste new flavours, feel a different kind of heat.

My first African country is, against all odds, Guinea. Not Guinea-Bissau, where they speak Portuguese, but Conakry-Guinea, where they speak French. And, of all times, I’m coming with MSF/ Doctors without Borders during the Ebola epidemics (now with much lower cases, thankfully, but still far from being erradicated). 

At first yes, I had the same reaction, EBOLA, no way! But then, meeting different people who have been here, knowing that actually security rules are even less strict than in Haiti (the main risks are robbery and carjacking, when the driver is alone in the car), having heard so much buzz about emergency missions, I needed to see what MSF is best at – going right where the action is. By now, Ebola has sadly also been around for more than a year, so a lot of learning and very well established measures, protocols, rules are in place, which makes me think MSF is somewhat THE expert to avoid any form of contagion of these epidemics, especially when it comes to us lucky ones, the expats (people like me, with European contract, coming for a short mission).

Let me maybe tell you some of these rules so you have a feeling of what makes this mission rather “special”, and another of the reasons which compelled me to come experience something I will probably never ever live again.

No touch policy is maybe the hardest and strictest of the rules. This means we literally don’t shake each others’ hands, don’t pad each others’ backs, don’t hug, kiss or dance with anyone during this whole mission. And any other activity which involves touching, of course :) This seems daunting at first, and emotionally harsh for a psychologist like me and in fact it’s not just because of risk of ebola contagion, but just about any risk of getting sick as it can scare all the team, lead to speedy evacuations, create a bad atmosphere, basically it limits the potential of panic and stress during the mission. And it can save our sanity.

In case of any problem, we lock ourselves down in our rooms and call the 24/7 available doctor within our team.

We also take prophylaxis for malaria all the way throughout our mission, which means 2 or 3 months-long, even though I get less mosquito bites here than I did in Haiti (no prophylaxis for the whole 9 months there). The reason is because the symptoms of malaria and ebola are quite similar, thus this helps to diagnose malaria out of the picture.

Every time we enter a place, whether home, office, CTE, banks, supermarkets, etc, we wash our hands with a chloric solution in it. We are also very often asked to measure the temperature with a aerial thermometer, which you put close to your forehead and it pops a number. 37,5 or above are the scary numbers, but then again, you probably will feel it if you get such high temperatures.  Aside note from our nurse, these thermometers are really not very effective so they don’t replace traditional "under the arm" ones, but hey, it gives some comfort to people. Plus, they look like little blue guns against our head. All in all, they are an extra with little value but important as an external sign of things being under control.

Because of the chlore ever present, because you cannot rely on how well the cleaners do the laundry or iron, and because things get “lost” every now and then, I am also learning a lesson on bringing the shittiest clothes and shoes one possibly possess. Or buy them, if you don’t. Since I am still new to this, I have brought quite some clothes and shoes which I like and would like to keep and use long after the mission. Some usual ‘missing items’ are also underwear, because they are more similar to each other’s and go unnoticed... Unlike my beach towel, wrapped around the Logistician's ass this morning! So in case of doubt, I keep clothes on a bag and wash them myself. Currently, this means almost half of my wardrobe… I need to let go of the materialistic instinct…

The food, our rooms, our toilets, this all goes as usual within the organisation – everything is done and prepared for us. On top, it’s very common to have a swimming pool (filled with chlore) and even a gym, as we usually spend the little time-off in and around the house, sleeping or else using these above mentioned facilities/goods. One day I would like to study a way to make humanitarian life more ‘normal’, as in having places to go out which are not fancy restaurants and 5-star hotels, activities which don’t take place between 4 walls, interaction with the locals which goes beyond 7 to 5pm…

And a hard one, usual emergency mode is 6-days of work per week. One day-off highly recommended, but depending on any urgent work needed to be accomplished. That is tiring! It’s only been 2 weeks now and I feel like my sleep is not the same, I wake up every day at 6.25, feel my energy levels going up and down and hardly being able to nap throughout the day-off (today as a matter of fact). No major accomplishments or plans for that day, which also feels weird… makes it look like a silly day in a regular person’s life.

Other than that, we can walk around pretty much anywhere, but at a minimum of 2, not alone, we can interact with locals (without touching haha), we can see the ocean from our windows and balconies every morning and evening, we are pampered with good food, clean rooms, washed clothes without moving a finger. It's luxury beyond what we are used to back home!

That’s it for rules so far, on the work side, I some new things to learn, which is great. But given the huge dimension of our project, we are actually a lot of people working on HR+ Finance: three expats plus 3 local employees. Which means that at times it is not clear what each one does and how to split responsibilities. After we do some major tasks which everyone is super stressed with, we will soon get to the routine procedure which will not need so many people (frankly, out of the 3 expats, we will only need 2 and that is felt already sometimes, we are a little army!). On the other hand, the ebola activities are not yet finished and there are a few projects around, and this week we just heard we will be opening a new center in the north of the country, so with a bit of luck, soon we will be entertained with more on our plate.

The local teams is usually one of the best parts of such missions, it is tremendously rewarding to have a chance to work with local staff on almost equal level, to share thoughts and ways to do things. This time again, I think we have a good team and I’m happy to hear that they also seem to be appreciating the way we are working together. It seems like in the past, there was a high level of stress and a lot of responsibility, maybe even blame, put on them. So far, we are doing just fine avoiding problems and errors, but our role as expats should also be to take the blame and protect our team from impossible-to-miss-disaster. Let’s see how it unfolds.

The rest of the expat team is cool. Can't tell you how happy I am to have a real team, instead of just 3 or 4 people, two of which are besties already, another one who is not really talkative and the other one always out at bars. Haha the difference between a team at coordination and within a project is pretty huge! Most have been there for a month or more and still big on smiles, excitement in their conversations, passion for what they do. One month and a half or two seem like nothing, but not so rarely, there are people getting back pretty tired and down after that time, so I’m happy to see that not everyone looks ‘defeated’. I intend to leave this mission smiling too. In fact, it is a non-negotiable domain, if I see my work is not needed or that the frustrations are higher than the accomplishments, then I will not stay any longer. Life is too short.

There is however some levels of frustration, which seem to come from lack of communication, no-clear boundaries between different levels of responsibilities and chaotic planning. This is both felt and caused by the expats at the same time. We can be usually the hardest part of a mission, dealing with each other, respecting each other, giving enough space, playing fair, knowing when to shut up or leave when we are grumpy or exhausted beyond quick recovery.

Plus, Guinea has been the neglected brother of the three Ebola countries, some say it doesn’t help that it’s the only French-speaking country (against Liberia and Sierra Leone, both English-speaking ones), maybe less mediatized than Liberia where news would show people dying on the streets, and very diverse with some local communities still denying or ignoring the existence of ebola, the means to prevent its transmission or the role MSF has played. To all of this, we add the politics and the continuous flow of money donated to ebola, going into the hands of the government. MSF was supposed to open a treatment centre in Coyah last month, but it all went down the toilet when instead the government got a huge donation if only they manage it themselves. So guess what they decided for... MSF keeps being pushed out of certain activities, limiting its scope and presence in the country and our ability to support the prevention campaigns, before the government elections when, not being able to deny that there are still cases, the local authorities will just try to capitalize on the collective work of all humanitarian actors to their own benefit = win some votes. 

Just last week, after pushing MSF away from the whole region, we were now asked to help in the opening of a centre in the north, close to the border with Guinea-Bissau, where some cases and contact-tracing is ongoing. The moment where fresh money comes in to that centre or region again, the authorities will probably find a way to reduce or exclude us from the region all over. No wonder there is a level of frustration within the team. Instead of controlling and preventing the epidemics, this is more of a game of power, money and visibility.

Last thing before I go to sleep: Conakry. In all honesty, unlike my usual me, I have acted like an Asian, and didn't go around taking that many pictures since I arrived. In fact, I think I have taken 10 or so in total. The city is… not that pretty. It is a bit dirty, with chaotic traffic and high levels of humidity. They do open all your unlocked bags before they reach you at luggage reception in the airport, the police will ask you for money when they see you are MSF... They will try everything for that European Euro or American dollar. It has shocked me as the first time in Africa should and so far it has not charmed me as much as Arab cultures or Haiti’s natural beauty and joy of life. I need time to get to know more, to understand the underlying reasons, to get to the details and exceptions. But the smile of children, how some can be extremely shy and feel so special when given a can of soft drink, or the cat or dog who comes for a cuddle or to play with you... those you have here too and it makes it worth the trip already :)

This country is of an incredible beauty (and few know it!)

I just found out this photographer, Roberto Stephenson, who is an Italian who moved to Haiti and manages to capture some of its beauty.

He has an architect background it seems and he also has on his website pictures of the effects of the earthquake on houses and streets and an unusual collection of tent spaces, which is where the displaced inhabitants lived for months or years... in fact, there are still houses which look like tents.

This link takes you to the breathtaking landscapes (but feel free to wander around, his works really show what my pictures and words hardly try): http://robertostephenson.com/3/

Promising to write more, Haiti has much to be said about.

first Nuit Blanche from the Caribbean!

It's been a very long time since I last wrote here, I'm so very sorry. I promise I will get back to it as I have loads to tell you about.

Starting from the almost elections, to funky mountains and lately my first vacation away from Haiti (pictures coming from Dominican Republic!), I have lots to write about.

But later, as I have just gotten back in time to go for the first White Night in Haiti, happening this Friday, together with Halloween.

Before, I leave you with a couple of beautiful local pictures.

going more places

Last Friday we went out to a place I've been wanting to go to for long: the Observatoire. Up in the hill, it gives you a panorama of almost all the city of Port-au-Prince.

 

 

I really thought the city was so much more colourful from the top. I was surprised how tiny the little houses are. The biggest structure by far is the airport. Next the port by the sea. The little white houses are everywhere and you can't even notice how hilly the city seems to be from down. We had dinner there and the local drink, Rum Sour.

Saturday I went to a terrace of a hotel which offers another great view, this time in the middle of the city.This is Mont Jalousie. The Observatoire was up there, to the right side, thus we couldn't see these colourful houses from up there.

Finally and to continue the beach saga, we tried the very popular, very nothing special spot where the UN peeps normally go to. And we had lobster by the beach. This is just one part, more savage of the beach. Th rest of it had thin, blonde sand instead of little peebles.

In and Ex

Travelling often makes you know yourself better. And my dad, especially, claims that I came back another person, much more open and social, from my time in France, my first second home.

I used to be a bookworm when I was a little girl. I would close myself in my world. There were also not many children in the family. And in weddings and such I would spend the whole time playing and entertaining the kids, even when I was 12 or 15. I would rather stay with them than join the grow ups. And perhaps because for many years I was the only child I really developped interesting ways of amusing myself. I can be alone with myself for as long as I need.

But as soon as I started getting to know people on my own (it did mostly start in France), I realized how enriching and fun these interactions could be! So I started breathing in and gathering the needed courage to come into a room full of people and smile, start making conversation. I soon became the person that strikes up conversation with the new person, smile and make small talk, as I could relate to how they must feel. In fact, I am drawn and tend to get closer to those who are quieter, even though at the same time I try gently to take them out of their own bubble, so they realize what I did too.

And so I thought I had somehow changed myself from the little girl behind the book in highschool. And maybe if I would force myself I would. But I will just do what I feel like.

Coming to Haiti in itself didn't change it, I was ready to be as outgoing as I can. I know that for the most part extraversion has brought me great things and priority number one was to start making connections with people I could eventually call my friends. But here we live in a bit of a different way, again a change from how I've lived alone for many years and in several different places.

Here we live in a big house with colleagues, each with a separate bedroom, with whom we go to work and work from 7am to 6pm. Here my boss gets drunk in the weekend at parties with other colleagues (including myself). And she is so approachable and so nice that she can talk about anything and brighten up any group, even if everyone else is rather quiet. Here people come late from work and go straight into the porch to sit, drink, meet others and it can last until 11pm or midnight. Before they even come to their rooms to freshen up and without necessarily eating. Instead they smoke and drink beer. They also talk and laugh. These are very interesting people in fact. Since I arrived to this house, there were already 5 newcomers who inevitably come stay the night at our house before heading off to the projects the next day. And recently we had 3 visitors from the headquarters, who joined us for up to two weeks.

So it's like full house all the time. A bigger family than I ever lived with. Lots of talking about past work experiences. It's incredible to sit in and at times I don't have anything to say back, but the topics of conversation just fly by.

But tonight I really felt like wearing the PJ's all around the house and even go down to the kitchen in a extra large t-shirt grab something to eat because I feel hungry. And I don't feel like putting the repellent on again to be out in the porch. And it's been a while since I updated the blog and would honestly rather stay in my room doing that and checking my emails and thinking about my day or my week or last weekend. And I need to catch up on sleep.

And fuck it, tonight I don't feel obliged to smile, exchange names and hear yet another story about that time in Congo. So tonight I'm not coming down or I just did but it was just to sneak into the kitchen, grab something to eat wearing the large t-shirt (and some shorts which I took off again when back to the room) and sneak back up like I'm invisible because tonight the night is for myself.

So I'm not sure if I'm back to being introverted but I'm not available every night. Sometimes I might even feel like talking to one or two people, but no, not in the mood to meet the new visitor that just debarked here tonight.

Maybe tomorrow morning at breakfast. Or not.
Maybe in order to be again an extrovert I will need a good night's sleep as an introvert.

Carnival in July

So in Haiti there is not one Carnival, but two of them... and, to distinguish them, the one that starts today is called Flower Carnival (Carnaval des Fleurs).

This is a bit of what it looks like. Unfortunately I don't have any first hand photos as our organisation doesn't allow us to participate in crowded, outdoor events as this one, but I might get some pictures from a friend that I could share later on...

But not only is it already strange to me that a country with so many difficulties and lack of budget decides to do a massive party when there are so many mouths to feed and bigger things to plan (such as the elections, which are now confirmed to happen in October, after a 3-year delay) - this event is also happening at the same time as another important date, which is much less joyous to remember.

So the government confirmed last week that the Carnival would be from the 27th to 29th July, Monday being a half day at work (for the national staff) and Tuesday full day holiday. Let's try and guess how many sick absences there will be tomorrow morning when we get to the office... :P (half day, really?)

But for the second year now, this popular celebration coincides with an important, not so cheerful event which took place on July 28th 1915. On this date, the American marines landed in Haiti starting a US occupation of the country which would only finish in 1934, so 19 years after. This was, as you can imagine, a period of violence and repression. Different tone to your typical Carnival.

A sociologist mentioned about this that 'Haiti has a particular relation to its historical memory'. Another academic asks if this period of national history is really being studied in the university. And what do Haitian and American researchers think about the American occupation.

Whatever the answers may be and how much the thrill of Carnival can help soften rougher realities, one should not forget that period and it would be good to have frank debates about what it represented to the actuality and future of Haiti.

Forgetting is at least one attempt at not letting history repeat itself. And maybe talking about it could help Haiti's society define better its sort of schizophrenic relationship to the US.

But what do I know... I've only been here for 4 weeks...

hope in a cynical world

Ever since I started this new chapter of my life, which then has brought me here to Haiti, I've been filled with questions. A disarray of them. I'm miles away from not only my original home but also of the several homes I made myself, through time and the generosity of such great people I met along the way.

And I'm not sure at all what I'm here to do. I'm not sure if this new career path is the right one or whether this mission I'm now onto is adding up to where I want to head. I don't really know yet where it's taking me but neither am I absolutely clear of where it is that I really, truly want to go.

And that's ok. That's probably the best setting I could have asked for right now.

Asking questions and living daily in serenity with my questions.

I'm starting to read this book, one which for so long I've meant to read and gotten many great recommendations for. Letters to a Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke.

It has this wonderful quote somewhere there:

"I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

And today I came into this speech from Jacqueline Novogratz which just fills my heart because at some point her story was so much like mine is unwrapping right now.  

Here's how:

"Three years after starting, I decided to leave the bank and try something different to fill that need.  I had read about Mohammed Yunus who had started making tiny loans to women in Bangladesh a decade earlier – and that inspired me to decide to move to Africa, ultimately, Rwanda, to try my own hand at banking for the poor.
Not surprisingly, it seemed I was the only one I could find who approved of the idea.  My boss told me I was making the worst career decision of my life and gave me a book called the Innocent Anthropologist.  My friends thought I had lost my mind. My little brothers and sisters said they would miss me too much.
Telling my parents, however, was the hardest. Now looking back at what they were going through, I understand. Their daughter, who had a promising career, was leaving Wall Street to move to a continent very few people understood. To a place they couldn’t find on a map. To do something they couldn’t explain to their friends.
But I knew somehow in my deepest being that I had to do it. And that if I didn’t go then, I might never have the guts to do it again.  I also knew how fiercely I loved them and was connected to my family and that I ultimately would not let them down.
And so, with a mix of love, sadness and excited anticipation, I boarded a plane for Africa."
 

"Inspiring hope in a cynical world might be the most radical thing you can possibly do.” Could that really be so?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=fSAxFpfodZ8