29 March 2006

On the road again

And suddenly I find myself at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, waiting for the 7.44 am train to Brussels

Yesterday morning I was still in yet another meeting at the office, discussing the agonisingly slow progress as regards our budget support. HQ is calling a meeting with several donors to discuss options for the acrobatic set-up for debt relief for our host country, and didn’t even think of suggesting that our presence might be useful. We did the thinking for them. I told the boss that we should have been there, and off I was that same afternoon.

I changed planes last night in N’Djamena, Chad’s capital, which has been described to me as a living hell for expatriates, but where officials seemed relatively friendly and more efficient than in our host country. Incredibly dusty place by the way, but the dry Sahel climate is nice compared to the humidity of our host country. Business class to Paris with Air France. I enjoyed the champagne and the foie gras de canard (eh, eh, eh…), but I just can’t sleep if I am not perfectly horizontal and stretched out, so I feel like a living corpse this morning, as usual after night flights.

I’ll come back Tuesday next week, hopefully with a concrete project proposal and a sense of moving forward again. It’s good to get out for a few days, changer d’idées. I was getting somewhat bogged down the last couple of weeks in demotivating thoughts about the state of the nation we’re working for, which is really hardly a nation at all.

26 March 2006

Fin de régime

Our bush trip is quickly fading away, apart from the fact that my Toyota is still in a repair shop as we’re waiting for spare parts from France or even Japan to arrive. It’ll cost me at least 2000 euros, and I guess I should consider myself lucky: an evacuation by plane and recuperating the car would have been much more costly. But what the heck, it was a tremendous experience and we had fun.

The last couple of weeks have been much less enjoyable. I felt débordé, literally swamped in work, without feeling I got much recognition for it. We missed an important reporting deadline and I was held responsible for it, something that still infuriates me. I certainly carry part of the blame by simply not paying attention to it (lots of other urgent stuff), but not all of it: I ascribe a big part of it to the boss’ way of managing things, which makes that you’re never completely sure whether it’s him or you in charge of a file. He himself was actually quite relaxed about missing the deadline, but my Italian colleague started sending me a series of e-mails whining about how the belated reporting effort messed up his section’s work. I tried a conciliatory tone, admitting that I carried part of the blame, but that Nordic openness doesn’t work with all: some enjoy kicking a man when he’s already down. Five days later I’m still angry, even though I am applying all sorts of ways to manage the anger.

Apart from the reporting stress there were intensive talks with the World Bank: this country is up to its neck not only in debt, but also in arrears on its debt repayments to various multilateral creditors, which blocks all sorts of possibilities for much needed aid. We’re now trying to see how we work out a scheme using our budgetary aid to repay one creditor, which will open the way for debt forgiveness from the World Bank, which in its turn would unblock much bigger budgetary aid disbursements from various donors than our single shot of 12 million euros. Capisce? And this is the simplified explanation. In fact the financial acrobatics required to pull this one off are hellishly complicated (coordination between five different donors), and the political and security situation in the country is deteriorating fast, putting enormous pressure on the government to look for quick financial fixes rather than more sustainable solution that take a bit longer to achieve (end of the year).

I can’t deny that I am feeling slightly discouraged these days. There's a fin de régime feeling in the air, even though it could last a while. The rebellion in the North (there’s actually three of them, all of limited scope so far, but creating unrest nevertheless) is gaining force, social instability remains, the Presidential Guard has fouled up a few weeks ago badly by killing dozens of civilians in a suspected rebel zone. The most worrying thing is that the rebellion and government action to suppress it is getting an increasingly ethnic twist: last week, at the funeral in the capital of a government appointed mayor from the provinces murdered by bandits or rebels, people were carrying an enormous banner saying that ‘the [name of a tribe, namely the President’s] people won’t let themselves be messed around with’. It's the first time that the ethnic aspects of the unrest were so clearly brought out. Newspapers too have started carrying articles with ethnic over- and undertones. Furthermore, a friend working in the forestry sector told me he had seen massive movements of nomads, peuhls, quite far South on their way out of the country with their families and all their cattle and other belongings. As it is them who provide the capital with fresh meat, prices will rise, putting new poaching pressures on wildlife.

In the meantime the government has been slowly suffocating the legal diamond sector by imposing exporting thresholds carrying enormous fines if they are not met. Several bureaux d'achat have already been pushed out of the market: less legal diamond buying, so less income for the state. Cui bono?, one wonders. The answer may be found in the fact that people close to the head of State, and the HoS himself I guess, seem to have started handing out diamond exploration and forestry licenses even in nature reserves (it seems that the fee for obtaining a forestry permit is about 750.000 euros). It took me some time to see how corruption works in this country. You will find considerable weak spots and ‘bad habits’, as they call corruption here, in state finances, but the real rot is before money even reaches the State’s coffers. And all thinking is short term, from the head of State downwards. Of course, the short term is important: we managed to convince the World Bank that if they didn’t pay heed to government concerns about the short term (paying salaries, especially the military’s), there might not even be a long term to worry about, as the present regime wouldn’t last and anarchy would ensue. But with such a lack of long-term thinking among it’s leaders it is hard to see where this country is heading. Continuing misery, I guess. With all this rot and increasing insecurity it is not easy to continue to work on projets as if nothing happens and we will actually have the time to implement them. I think again of my darling project on public finance of course.

So, professionally very challenging times. On the private front, M. has started again to revolt against his homework. While trying not to give in to his every whim (even though this struggle has been going on ever since we arrived), but also in order to do everything not to make him lose his interest in learning, we’re trying something new: we won’t oblige him to do his school homework (which I agree is extremely uninspiring) if he reads from a book of his own choice, then writes us a little essay on it which we will correct together. If he doesn’t want that, he’ll do his school homework. First try yesterday: I had invited a friend who is also a diamond trader, Bernard, and had asked him to bring some material to explain to M. the origin, mining, cutting etc. of diamonds, and to show him some stones. M. was thrilled. In the evening he wrote a five-line story, in Dutch. I corrected it, made him rewrite a few misspelled words, and it seemed OK. See if this lasts. My main concern now is not to make him a model pupil, but to do everything we can to make sure that the rigid French school system does not kill his interest in learning, which he obviously has (right now it’s diamonds, mummies, and the ever persisting dinosaurs). I had announced this new approach to his teacher, who was not thrilled, and almost told me I was an irresponsible parent: ‘they must understand they have obligations, even at this age’. Yeah, I guess, but they’ve got the rest of their lives for that. He’s only seven (and started doing homework at the age of five!) Making a child lose half an hour to an hour a day of precious playtime seems too big a price to pay right now.

25 March 2006

Splendid news

A. is expecting our fourth child!! We’re over the moon! It’s still very early, not three months yet, but we are announcing it to friends and family nevertheless as it will have major implications for our life as a family in the year to come. Medical facilities here are such that A. and the children will leave the country at the end of June to stay in Lith until at least January 2007, possibly March (baby is due for early December). I am saving up most of my leave for the second half of the year, and although it will not be easy, we’ll be able to limit my absences from the family to three periods of about six weeks each over seven months (June-December). That seems doable. We were very relieved to find out that it was no problem at all to place M. and T. at a local school in Lith, which will give them a true ‘roots’ feeling and playmates for our future stays there we hope. Given the increasing threat of instability out here I am actually not too unhappy about the family going back to Europe for a while. We wouldn’t be immediate targets, but it is one factor less to worry about.

09 March 2006

Forty

So I turned forty yesterday. I didn't like it very much. It's official now: I am middle aged. (Time to start acting my age, I guess.) Having indulged in bottomless self-pity all day, it was good to have a drink in the evening with some friends. I'm glad it's over. Thanks to those of you who send me their birthday wishes.

By the way, his blog continues to attract strange visitors. After the hit on search terms military + husband + unfaithful that I wrote about recently, there was a visitor from Tehran, Iran, yesterday who hit upon this blog through a search on rape + woman + bandage (he - I presume it's a man - probably meant 'bondage'?), which yields this weblog together with some hardcore porno-sites who can't spell...

07 March 2006

A sinning priest

Yesterday evening something occurred which had me howling with laughter. There's a mission over from HQ this week. One of them returned to their hotel yesterday to find her room occupied by .... a clergyman with a women, who had rented a room for a few hours! We knew he was linked to the church as he threatened, not very intelligently, to call the nunciature in the ruckus that ensued. I was called in as the office's Security Officer by my colleague accompanying the mission. It turned out that the hotel clerk had erroneously given the wrong key to the couple. I don't think they had any bad intentions (apart from sins of the flesh for which they will be held to account by their Creator alone...), but the women had been leafing through our HQ colleague's personal affairs, using her beauty creams and make up. I had a hard time keeping a straight face. Just imagine being called out of the blue by an excited and angry colleague with a heavy Italian accent telling you that our colleague entered her room to find 'un prêtre en train de baiser une pute'. At first I was roaring with laughter, which angered my colleague even more, so as a matter of courtesy I went to the hotel and did a stern act with the man of God (who said he came to the hotel 'regularly') and the hotel management. We didn't report the incident to the police, as this could have meant torture and extortion for the priest. When I debriefed the boss afterwards by telephone we were both howling with laughter. A classic anecdote has been born.

Bush trip

A lot has happened since my last posting on 23 February. We're just back from our trip into the bush, on which I will say some more later on.
First of all it's R. second birthday today. he'll have a party tomorrow, when the children have a day off. We gave him a set of handcarved wooden animal figurines, and he was shrieking with joy, quite a success. he is of course no longer a baby, but a big and beautiful two-year old, naughty and self-confident.
Tomorrow I'll turn 40. Definitely not looking forward to it, best to get it over and done with. Still nothing prepared for a party, we'll do one in a few weeks' time I think.
Now let me continue where I left off.
Just when I thought I would be tapering down at leisure towards my trip, all hell broke loose on Thursday 23 february: right after I received a furious and most undiplomatic letter from the Minister who is our interface for the government, I got the same Minister on the phone, in a rage, complaining about, well, us, in particular the boss (I can't go into too much detail). I was to be called by the Prime Minister's office the next day, Friday (thus ruining a timely start of our trip). I went there with a colleague and took note of the government's griefs (which I thought were unjustified), then reported to the boss, who is on leave in his home country. Then I left the capital for my trip to the North with Jean, relieved to leave work for a week, but quite bitter too. This country's government needs a reality check: unrealistic expectations towards donors, and . Relations with 'our' Minister are now at an all time low, they couldn't be worse.
After our return from leave Sunday the 5th of March, the situation has evolved in the sense that the whole thing has now become a high level diplomatic issue because of the insulting content and vehement tone of the aforementioned letter. The boss' position has become slightly precarious. Even though I am not directly in the line of fire, this is clearly not the best period of my time here, but it must be said: never a dull moment.
Now a few words about our trip. It was a beautiful experience. Jean and I passed through places we normally never see, spent a night in an African auberge, had lunch with Senegalese nuns who received us most hospitably in a far away town in the North which is hardly under government control. After two days of travel at a leisurely pace we met our families in a wild reserve in the North (they had come by plane) and stayed there for three days. We saw all sorts of animals, including a lion, elephants, baboons, giraffes, buffaloes, wild boars, and lots of antilopes. We were also made aware though of the terrible consequence of large scale poaching by Sudanese invaders, which has all but decimated the elephant population. It has made me quite pessimistic about the future: the area isn't controlled by the government.
The children were extremely happy to be there, enjoyed every bit of it and want to go back as soon as possible. We got to know a Swedish couple there living a dream life. After having made a fortune by drilling wells in this country for development agencies, the man had retired at age 51, giving away for free his well drilling company to an Amercian NGO. He is now spending half of the year on his farm in Sweden, the other half in this country helping guard the wild reserve, hunting (outside the park) and fishing. His wife studies a local language, Gbanda. Their son, only 20 yrs old, was out exploring a hunting concession in the east of the country. Sophisticated: e-mailing and internetting through their Thurayas. Free as birds, and not a worry in the world it seemed.
Our way back was less fortunate. Seventy kilometers from base camp we first got stuck in the sand. We had to dig out the car for two hours in 43° Celsius. Jean was absolutely amazing, frantically digging away like a rabbit half hidden under the car. Then 2 kilometers further on we got in much more serious trouble, as we hit a pothole in the road. The shock bended a solid metal rod connecting the wheel and the carosserie (I know how technically competent this sounds...) so badly that the tyre touched the rod and would have exploded if we had continued. So we stopped, and used our satellite phone (Thuraya) to get in touch, with some difficulty, with the base camp. We stayed out in the bush near a campfire (to keep the flies away- works perfectly) that night, dirty as coal miners, very tired too. In the meantime Jean's wife called us to warn us to sleep in the car: a thousand kilometers further to the east somebody had been attacked by a lion. As most lions in this park had been poached by the Sudanese, our chances of being eaten were very slim, but we slept in the car nevertheless...
The Swede came with a team of local mecanics early the next morning to pick us up. They managed to get the car back in working order at the base camp (with one wheel remaining in a tilted position) so we could drive back to the capital the next day, quite slowly. This we did, driving all night and arriving Sunday at noon, to everybody's great relief. Tout est bien qui finit bien.
I have been bitten by the bush bug. I feel stimulated to go again, with a much clearer ideas on what is neeeded for the trip. We were OK as far as fuel, water and food and most tools (especially a spade and a machete) were concerned, but the car, a nice and shiny Toyota Prado with shiny aluminium wheels needs to be adapted: bush wheels (steeel) and bush tyres (high, standard mesures). And I need to get hold of a winch.
Some further observations:
  • I always thought that big game hunting was a menace to the wildlife; it may however be its best chance at survival, as the sector is strictly regulated and preserving the wildlife is actually in the best interest of the license holders; it's poaching, and especially large scale poaching in large well-organised and heavily armed groups mainly from Sudan that are exterminating wildlife here.
  • seeing the Swede, a professional mecanic himself, and his team at work was a pleasure in itself: calm, logical reasoning. Car repair is not a menial job, it is for a large part a pure intellectual effort, and it is quite beautiful to watch. See Robert Pirsig, by the way;
  • I have never seen such rotten roads in my life, some had holes a meter deep; no way you can get past them during the rainy season, and no way you can have a functioning economy with such roads. Well I knew that already;
  • there seems to be no better way to get to know a country like ours than to to drive around it, talk to villagers, expats, missionaries. But that's hardly surprising either, is it? Anyway, it sure beats talking to government officials.
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