Back to the topic of resilience

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There will be many days when the internet does not work.  I mean, aren't we all a little surprised I have internet at all?  I know I am.  Somedays the internet doesn't work and some days, surprise! It does.  So in the spirit of surprise, some days you won't have any updates from me, some days you will have more than one.  It will be a surprise for us all!  So with that in mind, here is post number two for today.

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Back to the topic of resilience, it is amazing how quickly people can get used to things.  I am of course basing this only on my own experience, but I think resilience is pretty universal so I am going to go ahead and assume that my experiences speak for everyone else’s.  Let’s just roll with that assumption, shall we? 

When I drove into the IMC compound (or as those of you who read the posts in correct order would know, I more rode into the IMC compound as a melted puddle of sweat), I was pretty taken aback.  I mean I wasn't expecting the Hilton or anything, but still, I was pretty taken back.  Even in Afghanistan and near the IDP camps in Uganda, I stayed in guest-houses that had running water and toilets. And walls.  And even trees.  Not really the case here.  Instead of a guesthouse, there are rows of tin shacks.  The floors are covered with peeling linoleum, although I suppose that that is actually a luxury.  There are hardly any trees and there is dust everywhere.  I suppose that not even an NGO can control the weather and make itself a little Garden of Eden, but still it was just surprising.  And the pit latrines… Well, is there anything else I need to say?  Pit.  Latrines.

But two days later, everything feels pretty normal.  I know which room is mine and have become pretty comfortable in it.  I kind of enjoy the outdoor showers.  The food is basic but I like that everyone gathers around the giant flat screen tv to watch football at meals (Yes, there is a flat screen tv and sports night.  Even here.  Dudes.).  The mornings are beautiful.  The compound is perched on a cliff and this morning the program manager showed me “the tower” which is basically just a tin shack up a little higher, but if you climb up and look across the cliff, you can see for miles across savannah.  With the rain coming, everyone swears that in just a few days everything will transform from red and dusty to green and I can only imagine what the view will be.  I have even gotten used to the pigeons scrabbling around on the tin roof in the morning.

I haven’t gone out into the camps yet, that happens tomorrow. Once I do, I am sure that I will be jolted back out of my comfort zone again.  There is a limit to how far my comfort zone can stretch and I imagine that the boundary is just a little bit passed where I am now and does not include real, true poverty.  No one’s comfort zone should have to include that.  I think it is safe to say that if life was a little bit fair and people cared a little bit more for each other and a little bit less about their possessions, maybe no one's comfort zone would have to include poverty.  Maybe we could all agree that no one’s comfort zone really needs too include much more than the basics.  Except for maybe the latrines.  Maybe we could agree on some slightly nicer latrines.

I am a delicate flower

Most days, if you said to me "Linnea, you are a delicate flower", I would probably give you the look I give people when they say something stupid (if you know me, you know this look) and say something that would be very unladylike and not delicate.  I am perhaps too proud of my sense of independence and adventure.  I don't mind when the power goes out or when I don't get to shower for a couple days (let's be real, even when I have the choice, I don't shower every day).  I love being outdoors, hiking, and camping and generally not being inside, doing embroidery or whatever well-bred ladies do.  But that said, coming here, to the Somali region of Ethiopia, makes me feel like a delicate flower.  And not just a delicate flower, but the kind of flower that needs to be raised in a conservatory and handled with gloves made of calfskin.  The kind that will shrivel up and fall apart if its put in too much sun.  The kind of flower that would not make it here.  This place is, in a word, rough.  Not to say that it is terrible or awful or unworthy of seeing, just that it is rugged, hot, dusty, hot, remote, and did I say hot?  

I have been to a place or two that has amazed me, but driving for two hours in mid-day through the Somali landscape was mind-blowing.  Everything is baked in the sun and covered in dust.  You can see for miles through the scrub because the bushes are so small and generally without leaves.  There is no evidence of water anywhere, except that every once in a while you will see a tree that has a few green leaves amongst the yellow. It goes months without rain and you can see the evidence of where riverbeds were (especially since you are usually driving in them) but they are completely dry and cracked.  When we were driving I thought that I saw fires in the distance because I kept seeing columns of red smoke.  Not smoke at all, but dust that is lifted in the air like a tornado.  And then eventually not just one tornado but a whole sky full of dust as we drove through a giant sandstorm.  

All that is pretty amazing already but what is mind-blowing is that people LIVE here.  Not that they visit for a few days a year, throw up a tent city and party to trance music and alternative art, but that they live here every day, year round.  And yes, of course, many of them do live in tent cities (although I didn't see any alternative art, natch) and the poverty is pretty extreme, but I still saw most of the same things that define our lives.  I saw kids playing, kids going to school, I saw young guys sitting around drinking coffee and listening to Bob Marley, I saw clothiers selling Arsenal and Man U shirts, and saw people at work.  And not just sitting at a computer work.  Hard manual labor work, digging holes, laying concrete, herding goats, washing dishes and cooking over fires.  Real work.  Sweaty work.

And the whole time I was seeing this, I had two of the truck's air conditioners pointed right at me, and was drinking out of a giant water bottle that someone had to buy for me because I lost my wallet (found it FYI), I had my scarf wrapped around my head like a turban to keep my hair off my neck, was sweating through my shirt and pants, and felt like I was going to pass out.  I'm sure I was bright red too but since I refused to look at my reflection, I will assume that I was the picture of glamour.  Other than the sweat stains.  And the floppy turban.

So the point of this rambling story is that if you ever need to reaffirm your faith in human resilience, come to Dolo Ado.  Then drive two hours away.  You might not have much faith in your resilience, but I bet you will be pretty impressed by everyone else's.  

Apparently people STILL read this...

I had no idea anyone still read this but according to my stats, people have looked at this seven times in the last week.  By most standards, thats probably pretty pathetic, but since I hardly remember that I have this blog, I think that is pretty good.  I have so much respect for the bloggers out there who manage to do this every day.  Or multiple times a day.  Or who manage to make money at this.  Hats off, ladies and gents.

Anyhoo, I am back in l'Afrique, this time in Ethiopia.  I will be in Addis for two days and then am going to Kobe refugee camp, closer to Somalia.  I am working on a project with Women's Refugee Commission (WRC) and International Medical Corps (IMC) that is researching the existing programs (there are few) and the existing gaps (there are many) in reproductive health programming for adolescents in the camps.  I am really just doing the training for our interviewers and then flying back in two weeks.  It would be great to actually stay longer.  It seems that now most of my time is spent flying back and forth.  Fly in, do a training, fly back.  I miss just staying in one place.  Don't get me wrong, living abroad can be pretty rough since its far away from family and friends.  But as I am sitting in the office here in Addis, I am envious of the expats who are living and working here.  It is such a unique experience to get to live in a completely new environment. After awhile, feeling like you dont fit in gets old, but for a year or two, its great to have new adventures.  Lately, I have been thinking that maybe I am ready to settle down in one place in the US (and by that I mean Seattle), but now that I am back in the field, that desire is slipping away.  When you wake up to parrots and palm trees and Ethiopian coffee, it is pretty easy to imagine living here for a while.  But until I finish my darn dissertation, living anywhere but Baltimore seems pretty improbable.  So with that in mind, maybe I will take advantage of my half day here before leaving tomorrow and get to work on that...

Its Kabultown

Back again for Round Three. I am supposed to be here for about six or seven weeks this time but it has managed to be spectacularly unproductive so far. I left the US almost two weeks ago, arrived in Kabul one week ago, and have spent three days in the office so far because we have spent the past four days in lockdown. There was an attack on the US embassy on my way here so I got stuck in Dubai for five days while the school decided if it was safe for me to move on. Three days after I got here, there was a major assassination that killed the former president Rabbani and we have been in lockdown or observing the official government three days of mourning since then. Although I have managed to get some work done in the meantime, its difficult to concentrate right after an attack and then after a couple days in the house, everyone is antsy. But because I dont like being bored, I have managed to organize a dance party, a movie night, and a brunch day. When you are stuck in the compound, you have to make your own fun and actually I think that we have been doing a pretty good job. Oddly enough, even though I am starting to feel a little claustrophobic, its pretty much what I anticipated my time here to be, so its not been too difficult to handle. But that said, hopefully there wont be any attacks for a while so that we can get out and do something that doesnt involve our living room, outside gym, or table tennis table.

Back in Kabul

Well I am back in Kabul for another nine days. I am a little skeptical how much work I am going to get done this time seeing as I am only going to be here for eight full days, which is really eight half days since it is Ramadan and government work hours are from 8-1, which often means 8-12 since its 1000 degrees outside and no one is allowed to eat or drink. But we will see, maybe people are especially productive when they only have to work a few hours. Somehow I doubt it, but who knows.

I made is safe and sound to the new guesthouse I am staying in, but unfortunately my suitcase did not. Fingers crossed that it shows up on the next flight or the flight after. But I had a sneaking suspicion that would happen since the last time I was here I was saying that I have never lost a suitcase, so it was mostly empty anyway. I left most of my clothes here the last time since i knew I would be coming back, so the only thing that was in the suitcase was cosmetics, my running shoes, and underwear. The underwear would be nice to have, I wont lie, but I've made it through longer periods of time with negligible personal hygiene.

I did find a roommate in my hotel room when I was going to bed. I thought at first it was an insect and i was going to squash it but on closer inspection it was a teeny tiny SCORPION. It was really small, like the size of a fingernail but still... it might be worse than a cockroach. Jury is still out. Everyone assures me that that is very rare and the guy who did squash it did it with a kleenex, so I guess it couldnt have been too dangerous. I mean it probably was as tiny as a scorpion could be. But stlil, ewwwwwww.

On the upside, I went to dinner with two of my friends Hannah and Christine and one of my professors/ bosses, Gilbert. We went to a Korean restaurant and Christine is Korean American so she ordered all kinds of delicious food. Gilbert showed us pictures of his trip to North Korea (the man has been EVERYWHERE) and we had delightful dinner conversation. We talked about everything from drug abuse in Afghanistan to family planning in Afghanistan to... ok well we mostly talked about public health stuff in Afghanistan but, still, I found it interesting.

Well, I am still totally jetlagged. Its four in the morning so I am going to try to go back to sleep but figured I would be a little productive and update people.

24 hours in Kabul

So within 24 hours, I woke up to my friend telling me there was an attack on a hotel that was on CNN and I should probably tell people that I was safe but since she woke me up at 3 in the morning, I didnt know what she was talking about and Im pretty sure I told her to shut up. And then within a few hours of helicopters flying overhead, which after living in Baltimore I find oddly reassuring, everything was back to normal. Went into work, just like nothing had ever happened. Went to lunch with a bunch of the doctors who were teaching me Dari, the official language, which involves a lot of throat clearing. And since I have had a lot of phlegm induced by the fact that Afghanistan is trying to strangle me with air pollution, I was pretty good at it. And then after work, we went rug shopping wherein the proprietor gave me a 600 dollar rug for free on the promise that I would come back and pay for it in a couple weeks. And then after rug shopping, I went to a meeting with the Minister of Health to update her on the progress we are making in our study. No big deal. Just a normal day in Kabul.

Updates

So many little weird things happen during the day that I want to tell people about but I never have the energy to write an email. And then I remember that oh yeah, I have a blog for the very purpose of writing about the weird wonderful things that happen. Like the restaurant that we went to yesterday that had a soundtrack of 90s hits played on pan flute. Titanic theme song, the Bodyguard theme song, Unbreak My Heart, Phil Collins? All available on pan flute. Thats the second time we have been to that restaurant and everytime I just sit and giggle to myself because Im so endlessly entertained. Or when we went shopping yesterday and went to a store that had a wide variety of metal helmets with horns and face masks? Are they from the barbarian hordes that conquered Rome? Not for me to say, but I sure hope so. Or the man at the next shop who asked if I was married and then when I said no, gave me a small traditional box as a gift and said that its for my wedding ring when I get married. So that when I get married, I will always think of him. Or the driver named Korban, but since he is older, people call him by the respectful name KakaKorban and he is the sweetest cutest littlest old man ever.

These are the things that I just find endlessly entertaining and endearing about this place. I dont forget where I am, obviously its not an ideal place to be or live, but there are so many sneak attack charming things that happen during the day, its hard to not find it pretty endearing in its own way.