Pity me!

Here's a picture I took in 2004. I like it. It's optimistic somehow.

Personally I am in a slightly less optimistic mood. I have been struck by a stomach flu since Thursday afternoon, so for four days I haven't ventured any further than a 10-second dash from the nearest toilet. It's quite a nasty one, including massive headaches and aching joints. A test on Friday for malaria, my biggest fear, was negative, fortunately. For four days I haven't been able to do much, let alone anything of use. Not very good for studies, and I can hardly afford 4-day gaps in my study rythm.

At first I though the stomach cramps were stress related. I feel we're trying to do too much with too few human resources at the office. For months I have had the feeling of running after things instead of being fully in control. Things have been so busy that last week I didn't even have time to sift through some 50 CVs for candidates for a vacancy in my section, which would help us cope more easily with the workload.... I try to be firm and not to give in to the pseudo-solution of making longer days, but that isn't exactly helpful for one's peace of mind either. Add to that my continuing unease with the way some things are run at the office and a sense of frustration with the blockages we experience with our government interlocutors, and you have a pretty complete picture. The boss told me last Friday to be more cynical in these things: if things don't work, too bad. He is probably right, but I haven't reached that stage yet. Here you see a country going down the drain, and yet a Minister with an ego that doesn't quite match his capacities, is holding up for almost nine months a project crucial for the implementation of a host of others, for some ego-related reasons.

So far, being away from the A. and the children has been bearable, as they are doing fine. But being home alone sick is not great for morale. I talked to my friend Peter today through Skype (works perfect) and he told me to write a bit on my blog to make me feel better. So here I am, wallowing in self-pity.

Just finished a book by Ahmadou Kourouma on a child-soldier in West-Africa. Harrowing. I wonder if things could get as bad as that here. Started reading I am Charlotte Simmons, by one of my favourite writers Tom Wolfe. I haven't read much on Buddhism recently, apart from something by a Western author a little too self-important to my taste. I have found it difficult to concentrate on spiritual things lately, too much stuff going on. It'll come when the time is right again. The Dalai Lama was in Brussels recently, gave lectures and all. I regretted not being there.