Again?

What if I started writing on this thing again? I'm not sure if the use of a blog for me was ever about anything more then voicing my opinion in some form or another, but I suppose on some level that is all forms of communication.

I think I stopped blogging when the ridiculously confusing and complicated nature of life got too personnel and writing became too painful and too self indulging. When your head and heart are a bit of a mess sometimes the last thing you want to to at the end of the day and sit and contemplate what it all means while summarizing it into a few short paragraphs.

I'm not really sure why I'm writing now although I am mildly curious if anyone will ever check this blog again without me sending out some type of request for engagement. Never-the-less, here I am rambling away for reasons unknown. I think its time to go.

Here I sit in a tiny WFP airplane, looking out the window with nothing but hundreds of miles of endless desert beneath me, typing away on my computer. Trying to finally get to all of the thousands of emails in my inbox. I pump out response after response only slightly annoyed by the turbulence or the rough landing on the dirt runway as we pond jump from field site to field site. And it suddenly dawns on me…the sheer absurdity that has become my life.

In many ways it’s as though my world has been turned completely upside down. I find helicopter flights mundane, instantly falling asleep as the blades begin to turn. Gunshots outside my office invoke about as much reaction as a dishpan falling on the kitchen floor. Conversation inevitably stray into “peace agreement this…bombing campaign that…” and the idea of not driving my car in town because it might get hijacked is about as big of an inconvenience as the subway train running behind schedule.

On the other hand the sheer joy of walking into a super market in the US is untold. And the amazement of arriving at an airport and seeing how smoothly it runs is something to behold. Everything that I once took for granted is now awe-inspiring or simply stuff of legends (Like Bacon Cheese Burgers and Coronas!) and the mysterious trepidation of Darfur as withered away to “normal” life. I’m not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or just the reality of any place you call home for a year or two…its probably a little of both. I’m not complaining, in fact it’s a bit charming in its own right to feel so comfortable with what I am doing. It’s just funny to realize how quickly things can change…and most likely change back again. Such is the adaptability of humans I suppose, and I think we should all be grateful for that.

Ideals and Reality

I wrote a journal entry once questioning how we as humans allow these types of camps to exist. And I hopefully wondered that if we all collectively agreed that camps where simply unacceptable then maybe they would disappear and something more humane would take their place. And yet now I find myself defending the camps existence at all cost, battling a government determined to tear them down. And this is the irony of my life…defending something I hate, choosing the lesser of two evils, and probably settling for something in-between.

And I suppose this is just the state of my head at the moment, a sea of confusion and frustration with no land in sight. But I am not so noble as to pretend that these grand thoughts of justice and the poor consume me at all times…rather it’s the small email from home or a conversation with a friend or loved one that tends to swirl my head. It is almost as though the small personnel aspects of life, the ones I can almost grasp, are the ones that allow me to actually contemplate the bigger picture.

And so for now I sit here…not knowing what to feel, which I am sure is one of the worst feelings in the world. And while my heart remains consumed with my individual personnel questions my head is allowed to drift to that of consuming ideals and grand questions…and I bet that both will remain unanswered in many ways. I wonder if those in this camp ever get a chance to think these thoughts….

You say evacuation….I say holiday

Car’s hijacked in the streets, large scale armed clashes in the market, imminent attacks threaten on the capitol…I think its time to go to the pool! Darfur continues its ever-present slide toward Somalia Part II. In the past three weeks the African Union (you know that “Peacekeeping Force” who is supposed to protect civilians) was over run by a reported 2000 armed men in the largest attack on the AU in its history in Darfur. Hijacking of humanitarian vehicles inside of Nyala town has become the national pastime (6 in 6 days). And now some pissed off militia leader (read former ally of the Sudanese Government) is threatening to attack Nyala over un paid salaries. Can’t they just go on strike like the French, collectively say “no more burning and pillaging until we are properly paid!”

So in the midst of all of this where have I been? Well, practically everywhere at this point. I think I have hit every corner of Darfur in the past month and met every type of person one might meet in their life. Janjaweed leaders on the ICC most wanted list, CHECK. Former US Presidents, CHECK. National Security trying to kick me out of town X, CHECK. Lots of IDPs, Sheiks, and various other types, CHECK and CHECK. The fun just never seems to end. So at some point between flying high over Darfur and making it back to the office it seems that the UN is suggesting an evacuation of all non-essential staff from Nyala. Now we can’t call it an actual evacuation, that has all sorts of insurance issues that prove to be a headache, so instead we will call it a “Partial Relocation of Non-Primary Staff During the Eid Holiday”

So a mass exodus of pathetic looking humanitarian workers has now descended upon Khartoum, filling hotels and restaurants, and trying to sap every contact dry for possible alcohol in the area. So as mass chaos continues to ensue Darfur, a Spring break like holiday has turned up on rooftop apartments and any type of swimming establishment in the area. For a brief moment we are all almost able to feel like normal people…going out to eat, having an actual house, not having a curfew or hearing gunshots a night…you know, normal people. But at the same time we barely know what to do with ourselves. We end up wandering aimlessly at times and get quickly overwhelmed by the plethora of choices available to us. Much like Plato’s cave dwellers finally entering into the light of reality, we are a bit scared and longing to head back to the comfortable illusion that is Darfur. But for the time being the chaos and frustration can wait…I believe there is a pool some where near by and quiet frankly...I need a break.

T-Shirts for Darfur

I’m thinking of making a T-shirt for Darfur sales that says in big bold letters of excitement: “THE HYBRID IS COMING” and then on the back it has 2007 crossed-off, then 2008 crossed-off, then 2009 crossed-off, and finally a big hopeful circle on the back for 2010. Now I have to admit that the idea of a Darfur marketed T-shirt is not my brainchild…that belongs to this girl:

Her wonderful T-shirt:

was in relation to everyone’s favourite government body HAC (Humanitarian Aid Commission). The wonderful people in HAC are responsible for facilitating just about every type of imaginable hindrance to getting anything done…anywhere! Sometimes they randomly expelled people from Darfur, other times they keep us trapped here for 8 months at a time…but most of the time they simply drive us crazy (hence the picture above…to long in Darfur!). My idea has an equal sting of cynicism to it. Over and over again the talk of the Hybrid is brought up, as though it is Jesus Christ riding down from heaven wearing a big blue helmet to redeem the world. But truth be told the Hybrid is a litany of confusion and possible problems. Besides the fact that it doesn’t look like an actual operational force will be here for nearly 18 months, there are the logistical problems of 26,000 troops, plus 5,000 civilian support staff coming to Darfur and trying to set up camp in this resource scares environment. In addition, the very mandate of the Hybrid seems flawed from the get-go, no disarming of the Aran militias, a perceived bias towards the Sudanese government, which makes the rebel groups hostile, and ever encroaching programmes into the humanitarian sphere.

When feeling helpless at the rushing tide of absurdity there seems nothing more one can do then mock the ridiculousness (I believe that is how the Daily Show works) so on ward we march. A friend noted the other day that watching the DPA being singed in 2006 it was like watching an avalanche from a far away mountain top…you can see the impending doom but no one can hear your warning cries. I think this is as close as I get to a mountain top here in Darfur…should be interesting.

What a World

When working in Darfur one tends to become a bit Darfur-centric in their worldview. While we may check the news online and update our selves on current events in an attempt to stay “relevant” and “with-it” we never the less have enough going on here to put the rest of the world on the back burner. Floods in India, car bombs in Iraq, US heat waves, all these things remain on the periphery of our minds, unable to dislodge the tragedy and insurmountable task that occupy the forefront of our thoughts. There is certainly legitimacy to this way of thinking, we have a job to do, and work here requires an extraordinary amount of time and effort. But this week I have been reminded of tragedies far away and brought back to the interconnectedness of our world.

I currently find myself stuck in Khartoum over various issues with NS and HAC…and while this is immensely frustrating it has provided me with time to spend with several of my Iraqi friends and colleagues who live here. In particular two men stick out in my mind.

Hassen (whose name I changed) worked for the UN in Nyala during my first year there. Over the months we became good friends and I quickly learned to value Hassen as some who will always go the extra mile for you, can always be trusted, and who does an amazing job at what ever he is assigned. But Hassen’s world is divided; while he is working in Darfur his family is trying to establish a new life as refugees in Jordan. Both his parents where doctors in Iraq, yet in Jordan they cannot practice medicine, they cannot buy a house, and they cannot leave the country. They left everything in Iraq, house, car, business, money, cloths, etc. in order to flee the violence there. And now every six weeks Hassen is trying to fly back to Jordan to make sure their refugee status is confirmed, their bills are paid for, the house (which Hassen bought years ago) is set up for them, and simply provide love and support to his family that feels alone and afraid. His parents, brother, sister, and children are all refugees now, living in a land that does not want them. And Hassen, at the prime of his life, is now the primary caregiver for all of them. But you would never hear him complain, only state how lucky they are that they are all safe and talk about the next task at hand.

Yussef (name also changed) currently works with me. In Iraq he owned his own construction business, providing jobs for hundreds of men and women. Highly educated and successful before the war began, he was forced to flee with his family to Syria after. Able to sell only a few things before leaving, they took what ever they had in left for Syria. They left their home, their offices, cloths, family, friends and also moved to a land that struggles to cope with the refugee numbers crossing its boarders. Forced to take a job with and NGO working in Sudan, Yussef was faced with the difficult task of being separated from his family for months on end or moving them to Sudan. After attempts at both options they have finally settled in Khartoum, and while it is far safer then their home, the strain of the transition shows in all of them.

Yet both these men will say that they are the lucky ones. The ones that got out, found jobs, and can provide some type of support for their families. They point to the other heartbreaking stories of a mutual friend who lost her husband (who was working for the UN at the time) to the US’s first bombing raid while she was 7 months pregnant with their first child or their friends and relatives who are trapped inside Iraq with no where left to go. They have little hope of returning home and try to take in as much joy out of small victories like futball matches and a day without a bombing. And somehow they move forward, live lives, and remain wonderful and amazing people.

Yet sometimes I think it is the vast amount of promise, ability, and simple goodness that the Iraqis posses that make this such a tragedy. It is as though the world has taken a great treasure and squandered it. Who is to blame? I have many ideas and no idea at the same time. I suppose there are to many responsible to hope for any real type of justice for the mess that has been made. But I know it is not Hassen or Yussef, or the millions of the Iraqis who find themselves in similar situations. And I am angry, frustrated, and hopeless all at the same time. What type of world do we live in?

Visits, Events, Bugs, and Being Back

Besides the obvious cockroaches, mosquitoes, spiders, and ants these are the type of bugs that visit us at night here in Darfur. I suppose a true field of perception is lacking in this picture, but this “little” fellow is about the size of my hand. I should make up some horrifying story about how these bugs eat your flesh or burrow inside your ear at night…but to be honest they seem rather harmless. Most of the time I find them flipped over on their backs trying to right themselves and be on their way. In my more Buddhist moments I help turn them right-side-up, only to find them flipped over again 10 minutes later in nearly the same spot. Now while this creature may be harmless, the rainy season has brought on a rather large number of what is known as the Nairobi Eye. Commonly found in Kenya and known for the red spot on its back this little bug is full of acid and when ever you squish it you end up with acid all over you. I have been lucky and only have burns on my ankle, but many other have ended up with the painful marks on many other parts of the body. I suppose it makes us all think twice before squishing our little insect friends, but it is a painful lesson to learn.

Speaking of bugs…a certain president, from a certain country, that I may or may not be living in right now, is visiting this week. The airport is shut; the national band is practicing, and everyone as on restricted movement as well armed military vehicles cruise up and down the street. And you have to wonder what this person is coming to see. Surely it is not to check on the well being of the civilians, for that is obviously not a concern. In which case it must be to come and make sure that the ongoing military campaign that has resulted in hundreds of thousands of deaths and millions of people being forced from their homes is working. I guess if that’s the point he will find his visit productive…things seem to be going to plan.

Speaking of plans…the UN and the AU have received an “unconditional” guarantee from the Government of Sudan that a large Hybrid force will be allowed into the Darfur region. Now despite the fact that this “unconditional” agreement has already been met with conditions and delays (its only a month old!), and the fact that none of these forces are going to be on the ground until the end of 2008, we are already starting to see the effects. And by effects I mean that all of the rebel fractions, militias, and any guy with a gun are using this time to stock up on supplies and secure land. Assuming that this Hybrid force will actually bring some semblance of stability to the region, all of the armed groups see this time as their last chance to plunder the UN and NGOs and fight for their little piece of territory. There is now a serious security incident towards humanitarian staff every day and no one can even drive their vehicles to the field because it is basically just handing your car keys to the thieves. Some things never change.

Speaking of things changing…a lot of good friends have left now, but there are still many familiar face to greet me on my return. It is odd the strange bond we all have, a type of “Band of Brothers” fellowship of understanding and support…usually in the form of a shared drink or a witty remark. And while I hesitate to say its good to be back, it is after all still a big hot desert with an awful war going on, there is a sense of familiarity that is rather welcoming, so for the time being I will enjoy that.