All about me

Ok, now I’m bored of this. I know, it’s only been 2 months, I have the attention span of a gnat and in professional terms I’ve only been here 2 seconds. But as the novelty wears off and the annoyances mount, I’m beginning to see this whole experience for what it really is: a job.

I’m benefiting, no doubt. It is a well-paid job and the journey each day down an appalling road to a different distribution location with the now normal obstacles of mud and water sure as hell beats the daily and repetitive commute to Islington town hall. The challenges are novel and most surmountable: get to place x, budget accordingly, make repairs on the way, buy and carry fuel, arrange distributions in these locations, avoid those locations, notify now for distribution to happen then, keep team motivated throughout... A lot of it is fun and tiring in a good way.

But there’s a lot that’s not so fun. I’m doing something that I’m slightly opposed to morally. Whilst in Ghana I came across an American woman there on behalf of the Baptist church whose mission (both God and church-given) was to distribute toys to children. Thinking at that time was that actually they could do better with water, sanitation and education. Are radios any better than toys? In many ways I think no.

It’s not that I think giving people access to reliable information at any time they wish is a bad thing, it’s just that a couple of white guys showing up and doling out shit for free is completely not the type of thing I agree with. If someone wants something, should they not be willing to work for it? Whilst I do not tolerate the physical threats that are unsettlingly numerous, I no longer get upset when people in the communities we go get angry when we run out of radios. Why have we favored some to give them a radio and not another? Are we really unbiased? Am I more likely to give a radio to someone who’s attractive, has a nice smile, greets me and is Moslem? Probably, yes.

We threaten dire (though secretly unenforceable) consequences if we find someone trying to sell their radio. Each has a serial number that is recorded with their name when they collect it. I actually think we should be encouraging them to do what they want with the things – sell it for money, dissect it to learn how it works, trade it for favors – now that’s what I call empowerment. The information we gather about populations and their make up is no doubt finding its way to someone who wants it (it’s a US government project). And the most fantastic irony: we encourage people to listen to a particular program about Sudan’s development broadcast by Sudan Radio Service. The program is on each morning from 8-9am in Arabic and English. The vast majority of our female recipients, who are fully occupied during the morning hours, speak neither language. Our funding organization is staffed by women who all remind me of Bridget Jones. They seem very vague about what they want, what they are trying to achieve and how they are going to do it.

I’ve mentioned before that the culture is hostile one. A few more incidents have brought this home recently. We came across a 20-ton truck stuck in the mud on a road on our way home this past week. The Somali driver begged us, with what seemed like genuine fear, to try to pull him out even though his vehicle far out-sized my two combined. I soon understood his concern. Nearby was an army barracks and the soldiers, wanting him to give them a lift to their destination 40km away, chose to abuse him rather than work to get him (and their only transport) free. The driver and his mates had been beaten and had their cargo and diesel stolen. We managed to pull the truck free (I wish I’d had camera for that, and for the expression of joy on the driver’s face), but the celebrations were killed off when the MP who was looking on took a swing at me when I refused to carry him. Prick. This is what happens when you give idiots guns.

Whilst I could rely on my team in the face of an outright threat like this, I questioned them later. We ran out of money and I was looking to exchange some of my personal stash of USD. You get poor rates for small bills and even poorer rates for notes of older series. Many places won’t even accept notes from prior to 2001. This pisses me off because they’re all accepted by the central bank. Each exchanger claims to need to protect his interests (from what I’m unsure). As I went to reluctantly change a bill from 1998 for 20% less than one from 2004, one of my team stopped me and offered to change it for me at the same rate: he wanted dollars and knew he could get a better rate when we reached back to Rumbek. My first thought was “git, if you’ve got cash, loan it to us so we can get home,” but by that point I was tired and hungry so gave him the $. I guess he wanted to protect his interests too.

My boss and I have butted heads few times. It took one particular argument to remind me, very vividly, why it was that I decided to leave the US: the pervasive sense of selfishness. Having been sent on two consecutive days to locations that failed to be notified that we were coming for the distribution (his responsibility) I had to face an inquisition on my return over why I had not distributed all the radios I carried out. In one location I had to drag guys off the car. An email that he sent back to the our head of programmes addressing our funders concerns of our going too fast and cutting too many corners read something like “I’ve always addressed each of these points personally in my distributions. I don’t know what Shareef has been doing, but I’ll make sure he does it as I do from now on.” This is utter bollocks. The corners I’ve learned to cut, I’ve done so from watching him. I guess as program manager, he has interests to protect, too.

It is instances like these, particularly the latter two where a threat comes from within, that really drives the message home: you are on your own.

So, what’s the remedy?

1) Start acting the same way and 2) go on vacation.

Things aren’t so bad that I’m having to look for other jobs – but I am looking, nonetheless. I think it’s best I keep my eyes open and feel no sense of obligation to this project or my colleagues. I do hold the title of consultant, after all. I’m aware of many overpaid and underworked UN positions so might look to give one a try. Maybe I’ll also stay content if I remain solidly mercenary. I will stay as along as I’m learning and am being well paid for it.

Regarding the vacation: it’s been 2 months, which means I get a week of break and a grand to leave the country to anywhere I want. Talk about cushy, huh? I want to go somewhere with where I can act to my own schedule, eat fruit and vegetables and a variety of foods and fish, drink fruit juice, enjoy a fast internet connection, use a kitchen and a clean flushing toilet, buy music and movies, and have a good possibility of getting nookie. And because I’m starting to think all about and around me, I’m not going to tell you where it is.

xx