Brainbeats and Action Pants

bad hat day?

2009-10-28T05:20:00.000-07:00

Me and Henry (thoreau)

2009-10-27T16:27:00.000-07:00

This cat sheds

2009-10-27T16:26:00.000-07:00

How Cheesy can it get, Mac?

2009-10-27T16:25:00.001-07:00

Fall in NH

2009-10-27T16:23:00.001-07:00

Creative (Transport) Commons

2009-10-26T12:14:00.000-07:00

Hi Folks,

If you are interested in Car-pooling to or from the event.
If you are in need of a lift.
If you have a lift to share.

Please leave your details as a 'comment' to this entry.
We'll do our best to moderate the discussion.

Liztopher

Photos, the long awaited

2007-10-29T14:50:00.000-07:00

Alright, photos... in descending order, photos related to the last two posts:

1. A sculpture in the spirit of beating spears into ploughshares... in front of the UN, manhattan (though there's a replica in front of the victoria albert shopping centre, cape town)

2. The window-less building... its right downtown manhattan (this shot and a few others are inexplicably oriented to the left, sorry!)

3. The sculpture that had previously been stationed at the entrance to the world trade centre... it was somehow salvaged...

4. Cheeky quebequoise... spoke-person's of the ass-backwards finance sector of the american economy (does anyone smell 'recession')

5. Uncle (which is to say Secretary General) Boutros Boutros-Gali.... gotta love that smile

6. a woman's reflection in the glass pane seperating me from a gilded knight's helmet--ca 21st century

7. an archer.... Rodin? maybe from the MoMa, not quite sure...

8. Paul Gelbach---upside down

9. my brother, on his side, in what would appear to be a (pink) swing to the left...

10. a leaf on a rock in autumn

11. my sister, laughing at something which may (or may not) be funny

12. last four-- a pic from the cover of the new york times... one of the most striking portrayal of power I have ever seen---winston churchill, of course (halifax, Canada)--a lobsterman riding a lobster (one arm upraised)--and a funny (green) t-shirt from bar harbour

Bean Town Errata

2007-09-26T11:28:00.000-07:00

So, apparently in my haste to rid myself of procrastinating blogger guilt, I mistakenly listed 9 memorable things on my Congo Top ten... Then I realized that I have another list of strange and befuddling congolese peculiarities that I hadn't so much as consulted for the list below.
So, an amendment is due and will be forthcoming, along with a number of fabulous photos--now that i've got it working again... and thanks to elizabeth for her super shot of three women carrying bundles of onions to market...
(ah, and i may be heading back to darfur in a couple weeks... anyone have any suggestions for blogging on the down-low? password protection, identity obfusation?)

From New england, with love

2007-09-23T17:39:00.000-07:00

"But blood, earth, and mother tongue are not everything... Over and above them there is mankind, and there is always the astonishing and happy possibility of discovering home in what is most distant and foreign, of loving what is apparently hidden and inaccessible and of being able to become familiar with it." Hesse, p218

I left the Congo on the 26th of May, 2007… from that day to this very evening, in my own country and across oceans, in the homes of friends and strangers alike, I have received such hospitality… a place to rest my bones, a meal, company, wisdom… I’ve wandered an unsually great distance this summer and have been met with an unusually enthusiastic welcome wherever I’ve found myself.

So my most heartfelt thanks to all of you who opened your homes and your lives to me this summer… sam/lucy, the jones’s, Yna, Jeremy and the boys, Jessica, zamber, texas, Rebecca, lucy, Claire and colin, Jonathon, lizzy, sonia, Dr. B, dan and Amanda, Nicole, jenna and renee, liz and suz, Shezeke, bedet, shannon, suz and elizabeth and john and craig…

A taste of home, my sincerest thanks.

Now… below you’ll find a number of photos and a collection of anecdotes/observations from my grand summer adventure, which spanned 4 continents… from the heart of darkness to new Zealand, the haag to new york, Vancouver to Halifax, Sydney to boston… I’ve gone further than I’ve ever gone before, and still managed to screw up my airmiles in the process!

So find below a wild assortment of anecdotes and pictures… and given that I’ll have posted this just before sending out a mass email update, be sure to scroll down to see my ‘top ten’ list of things I LOVE about the Congo… a bit further for some pics from new Zealand with quotes from Vaclav Havel’s latest book.

For those of you keeping track of my quest for grad school… No decisions yet, but I’ve just about finished visiting the Canadian schools. Not particularly happy with what I’ve seen, not particularly sure what to do about that…

Incidentally, its likely that I’ll be heading out to Nyala or El fasher toward the end of September… anyone out there or heading out there around then?

Peace
Christopher
ah... I've been having some trouble with the photo upload on blogspot, so if you come across this page before I've sorted it out, sorry, I'll have more pics later, but I did manage to load a video, perhaps the cutest video ever... next post down, its of John Zacharias... enough to make even the most resolute automaton feel their, um, inner clock.

Ozone, plane rides, and the skyscraper that wasn’t…

2007-09-23T17:30:00.000-07:00

So… in no particular order, a few anecdoctes from my summer
1.A drunk hunter mentioned to my travel mate, the Texan, that he’d blow him away with not one but two glocks—poof poof poof, he motioned with both hands. He then turned to me and asked what I would use to bag a buck (kill a deer), I figured a truck mounted .50 calibre would do the trick—he frowned and shook his head.

2.Sydney—my friends live right underneath one of the inbound/outbound flight pathes for Sydney international airport… I was shocked that they would’ve have built the airport in such a way that planes would be obliged to fly over a residential area at such a low altitude… you couldn’t hear a thing when one was overhead. And if that wasn’t dodgy enough, I woke up one morning to find the garden full of jet A-1 fuel fumes…

3.I survived a train wreck in New Zealand.

4.Did you know that boston is one of the east coast’s most important square dancing centres… who would’ve thought! I sashayed and doseydoeyed all over the dirty dance floor with lovely ladies, octogenarians, men with dancing shoes, and Scandinavians (one a massive Viking of a man!)… Good times, old school, primary school PE class good times…

5.Boston also boasts a caribo-centric carnivale… not since the cypress hill show at lalapalooza ’97 have I heard gut moving bass like what they were pushing out of the lorry-mounted walls of speakers, towed all-around downtown boston.

6.My day with dan talstra—not only did we eat gyros made by latinos… not only did we stumble across a windowless skyscraper in downtown manhattan… not only did we see bad buskers fail to rouse a crowd… we followed quebequois tourists through wall street and caught them molesting the Meryll-lynch bull… we also saw the conspiracy theorists down at ground zero (a truly awesome and troubling cavity in the centre of downtown) and while chatting them up, we also saw the deusche bank building (the one being deconstructed methodically due to massive damage and contamination when the towers came down) catch fire…500 firefighters made their way to the site, it took all afternoon/evening to put the fire out—2 men died.

7.On two occasions, I found myself boarding with new friends only to find out that old friends were no more than 3 blocks down the road… how strange is that?

8.There are no vegetables in New Zealand. Just kidding, in fact, cudos to the farmers of the deep south of the southern island for bringing a delicious winter crop to the Dunedin farmers’ market…truly an institution.

9.There is no shortage of vegetables in Sydney… which is strange given that the whole region has been racked by drought for 3 years running (apparently)… unlike Dunedin, the farmers’ market of Sydney is a massive warehouse full of EVERYTHING you could possibly hope for from a market—even squid. Mesmerizing.

10.Car-free-day, commercial drive, the day before I left… not only did I stumble across someone who reads this blog…not only did I run into everyone you’d expect to meet on the drive…not only did I stumble into Lucy Clift, who was suppose to be in Sydney and to whom I was going to write a note that very day…I ate giant portugese sardines with Johnny koehn (always pleasant company!) and while resting my brain and body at the foot of the drive, drinking coffee with none other than nicolina and anya, I spotted three kids taking advantage of the whaning moments of the day—playing leap frog in the middle of the street while others packed away their booths and displays… but wouldn’t you know it, these kids were minding their own business and whammo, a 20 something came along, then her man friend joined in…a couple toddlers (with moms in tow), a few more tattooed 20 somethings, a proper round of leap frog! A precious moment, with no other artifact but memory (and maybe this post)

Congo steamy top 10--part 1

2007-09-23T17:26:00.000-07:00

Things I love about congo?

1. Les pirogues… you seem them heading out, paddling into the lake, lashed together three to a side ready for a nights work catching fish by lattern light… but when the sun goes out and the lights are lit, its an eerie scene, a lake full of stars, drifting constellations lantern light.

2. 6pm, sunset…the sun sets quickly, perceptibly a the equator, and as a rule there’s far too much cloud over the jungle to actually see the moment where the sun rushes towards the horizon, but this is the time when the birds come back to roost. And what bird would be a proper bird if it did not sing to its neighbors in the twilight? Evenings on my terrace, before the generator tears the moment in two, a drink in hand, sitting on the warm tiles, amongst surragate family…

3. Kids—Some are cheeky, some are scared, some are kind and gracious others less so… some think that white people roast children for supper. What’s certain is that kids will often be the first to transcend the rules of social interaction, tossing aside all manner of ‘-isms’… it took the better part of the year before my neighbors kids learnt that my name wasn’t ‘honky’… we’d walk home together during lunch break or after work, sometimes I’d try to steal their backpack, or maybe just taunt them in Swahili… but we were neighbors… we’d not only wave at each other in the morning, we’d exchange funny faces… even the street kids who begged from the Pakistanis would offer me some of their daily haul—once, after a rough day, I told them to fuck off when they heckled me, and whammo, as if I had uttered some secret password, we were buddies… So hoow long does it take for one to become black, or not white, or somehow not some sort of alien? I’m not sure its even possible, but at least you can rest assured that children are more likely to accept you (despite your hairy arms!)

4. The journaliers—I’ve written of these guys previously, no? These guys would loiter outside the office… some young, some old, all unemployed, many at the very bottom of the heap… When I arrived, these guys were lucky to be paid once in a while for a day’s work, and yet, despite being treated like rubbish by certain folk in the logistics’ department, they would continue to turn up in hope of getting a day’s work. My department used these guys virtually everyday, loading and offloading trucks, moving piles this way and that… sometimes they would steal from us, sometimes they would work extra long hours to try to get one last truck loaded with relief supplies. These guys would drive me around the bend, they would inspire me, but most of all, they reminded me of were my family… My grandfather was a labourer, worked like a dog for a pittance, and thanks to the union movement on the Vancouver port docks, he retired with a living wage and stout pension… This year, I harangued the day laborers to unionize. Unfortunately, my attempts to convince these guys that getting their ranks organized would likely benefit them and their families failed, but they nevertheless remain on my top 10

Congo steamy top 10--part 2

2007-09-23T17:20:00.000-07:00

5. Les mamans porteuses—walking home, past women saddled with burdens a mule would have trouble handling, I was reminded again and again of how the women of congo are the backbone of the country… I’ve heard men joke that they don’t have beasts of burden because they have women to carry loads here and there… I never managed to ask one of the ‘porteuses’ if I could take her picture, otherwise I would show you just what these women carry, but the image remains etched din my memory and has come to represent the strength and steadfast determination of the women of congo to see to it that their families survive, in spite of relentless adversity. The women, they effectively run the country—they are mothers, wives, traders, farmers, survivors, the creators of innovation, pathfinders.

6. life and death, anger and joy—I’ve been overcome on more than one occasion by the intense juxtaposition of opposites in this country… wedding parties and mourners race up and down the main boulevards of Bukavu in much the same way… Koffi club anthems, getting down on the dirty dance floor, mingle with drunken fights at the bar… even at the border, the customs guard will joke with you at the visa table, and then fleece some poor visiting ngo consultant behind you in the queue… n’oublie pas: “Au rythme du pays”

7. teasing and being teased in Swahili— A young 20 something calls out, in French—Hey honky, what’s going on—the honky replies in Swahili—where’s the honky? I don’t see any honkies—the 20 something then turns to his buddy and snapping his fingers, chuckles in Swahili—Oh the honky (mzungu) speaks Swahili—the honky then interjects (in Swahili) that not only is he not a honky, but that he is really, deep down, if you look close enough, a black person… Macho in a kuffa, your eyes are dead… everyone laughs. (funtimes with language)

8. Word of the year: Septaecaemia. Believe it or not, Cholera is a Septacaemic desease, AND children, if given enough encouragement, can learn how to say Sep-tah-see-mee-a

9. Anti-social habit of the year: If you don’t eat your vegetables, you’ll have problems digesting the other elements of your diet… if you think that only poor people eat vegetables and that you being a well off person ought not, therefore, eat vegetables, you will likely have trouble digesting all the foo foo and meat you consume for supper… if you remain gainfully employed for an extended period of time, you’ll likely wind up with a condition called impacted faeces, a sympton of which is room-clearing, bad breath… Poo breath. Eat your vegetables (even if you’re well off)

Where's, uh, Christopher?

2007-07-29T00:54:00.001-07:00

So, I think I’ve set a personal record for the number of continents upon which my body has alighted in a given 3 week period… 4… four continents. Can any of you guess where I am? Could any of you tell me where I ought to go, or better yet, what I ought to “do” next… I’m done with Congo, I have a funny feeling that I’m done with Vancouver, and I’m more than a little uncertain about pretty much everything else.

Nevertheless, angst and disorientation notwithstanding, I’m alive and well, typing away from the bottom of new Zealand—a lovely country. I’m cold, absolutely freezing in fact, and doggedly trying to sort out my plans for grad school (why, when where, etc) before taking another step forward… I’m so determined to sort this out that I’ve even turned down 3 (what was I thinking!) super positions based in rotten, terrible, absolutely dreadful places like tchad and jafna. At any rate, I’ve come out of congo, full of perspective, full of concern, and in full view of the immensity of the next couple steps in my life, steps that I think ought to be taken deliberately, given the gravity of the implications… say, if I were to do a post-grad degree in disaster management, I would be very very well qualified (given my humanitarian experience) to live/work the rest of my life in disaster zones—and frankly, I’m not sure I can do it!
But an example, but it ought to cast a bit of light on some of the things I’m presently trying to work out.

Right, there you have it, I’m in new Zealand, not a little disoriented, but moving in a/the right direction. The ever-elusive “top 10” list of all the things I love about the congo, my job, etc, is forthcoming,… actually, I’ve lost it somewhere in my hardrive, but it’ll be fabulous! In fact, the list is larger than 10 items, but when did the heart of darkness ever resign itself, in all its breadth and depth of absurdity and paradox, to be contained in a single list of 10 peculiarities?

Also, there are a number of quotes from Vaclav Havel’s recently published memoirs (to the castle and back)…quotes I thought to be particularly interesting… so be sure to scroll down a bit, check out the pics, and read some of havel’s reflections.

Peace
C

pics? New Zealand?

2007-07-29T00:38:00.000-07:00

is there something wrong with blogspot photo upload mechanism again, or is it really just me?

picnicking with the varners and vaclav?

2007-07-28T00:05:00.001-07:00

The beauty of language is that it can never capture precisely what it wants. Language is disconnected, hard, digital as it were, and for that reason , but not only for that reason, it can never completely capture something as connected as reality, experience, or our souls. This opens the door to the magnificient battle for expression and self-expression that has accompanied man down through history. It is a battle without end, and thanks o it, everything that is human is continually being elucidated, each time somewhat differently. Moreover, t is in this battle that man in fact becomes himself. As an individual, as a species. He simply tries to capture the world and humself more and more exactly through words, images, or actinos, and the more he succeeds, the more aware he is that he can never completely capture either the world or himself, nor any part of the world. But that drives him to keep trying, again and again, and thus he continues to define himself more and more exactly. It’s a sysphaen fate. But it can’t be helped: man will carry the complete truth about himself to the grave, though someone, in the end, will know that truth ater all: if no the Lord God, then at least the great memory of being.

Pics--melissa and her mighty muscles--elliot, the cutest kid east of the drive--neil and me, amanda and me...collectively the varner family

peace
C

vaclav and parties?

2007-07-27T23:56:00.001-07:00

I’m convinced that my existence—like everything that has ever happened—has ruffled the surface of Being, and that after my little ripple, however marginal, insignificant, and ephermeral it may have been, Being is and always will be different from what it was before. All my life I have simply believed that what is once done can never be undone and that, in fact, everything remains forever. In short, Being has a memory. And thus even my insignificance—as a bourgeois child, a laboratory assistant, a soldier, a stagehand, a playwright, a dissident, a prisoner, a president, a pensioner, a public phenomenon, and a hermit, an alleged hero but sercretly a bundle of nerves—will remain here forever, or rather not here, but somewhere. But not, however, elsewhere. Somewhere here.

PICS--fun times, captured by digital imaging technology... me and daniel, me and alain, me and caroline/rebecca--

post-democracy and non-sequitous pictures

2007-07-27T23:07:00.001-07:00

By “post-democracy” I meant nothing more, and nothing other than a democracy that has once again been given human content, which is to say that it is not just formal, not just institutional, not just an elegant mechanism to ensure that although the same overn, it appears as though the citizens are themselves choosing them again. I may have been naïve, but I was merely explaining then what I still think to this day, and more urgently than ever: that if everything is not to turn out badly for us, we will need a revolution of “heads and hearts” as Maaryk called it, a kind of general awakening, an emphasis on seeking an alternative to the established and already shopworn and very technocratic political parties, or at least a crying out for the inner renewal; an effort to rid them of their hidden, subtle, and omnipresent power, which itself is a denial of the principles of representative democracy, an emphasis on the development of an open civil society and on the reconstruction of transparent human communities as an instrument of human solidarity and self-regulationl an emphasis on long-term interests and on the spiritual and morla dimensions of politics—all of those are simply aspects or consequences of the same fundamental ideal, which of course is not complicated in the least. It is simply the extrication of the human race from self-destructive and automoatic collapse of civilization.

Pics--Jana the german (unlike Vaclav, the czech)--Jeremy the office's barista--and ben, my syphilitic, self-absorbed dog

vaclav and my neighbors kids!

2007-07-27T23:02:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I saw my friend Joan Baez on television; she was marvelous and I remembered the ampitheater at Stanford university where I gave a big speech and she sang and then I carried her guitar off the stage just as I had done in the communist era when I was at her concert in Bratislava. The state police had tried to prevent me from taking part, and I escaped their clutches by carrying joan’s guitar for her: they were reluctant to arrest me in her presence because they were afraid that she would speak about it at the concert. Even so, she dedicated a song to me and charter 77 and they punished her by cutting off the power. A funereal silence fell over the stadium, and then she sang without a microphone. She was clearly audible. It was very moving and, naturally, it was a far more momentous event than it woul have been if they’d left her microphone left on.

Photos--my neighbors kids, getting crazy for the camera!

vaclav Havel, surely....

2007-07-27T22:59:00.000-07:00

In principal, however, I believe that there are cases when it is possible and proper to go to the aid of innocent people, even at the cost of violating state sovereignty. In one of my speeches I said: a state is the work of humans, a human being is the work of God. What I meant was that defending human beings is a higher responsibility than respecting the inviolability of a state. One must, however, constantly and carefully scrutinize such humanistic arguments to determine that it is not just a pretty façade concealing far less respectable interests, be they strategic, economic, or other. The world should never automatically approve the intervention of one state against another state that is justified by a defense of humanity.

(the guys, again, there're just so great!)

Vaclav Havel, who else?

2007-07-27T22:37:00.000-07:00

To tell you the truth, its not just the Americans and other foreigners who think of me as a kind of fairy-tale prince or at least as the main character in a fairy tale; I to am often aware of something utterl unbelievable in my own destiny. And I’m less and less able to understand that destiny; at times I even see myself as a minor freak of history. How could this ever have happened to me—and to me in particular—to be in the very centre of events so momentous that they determined the fate of many nations and millions of people? Why did I, the author of absurd plays, experience hundreds of absurd situations…Sometimes I think my is just a dream and that one day, very soon, I will wake up in 1958 as a soldier in the barracks in Ceske Budejovice; the alarm will have sounded, and I –someone with no sense balance—will haveto go down a busy street in the morning rush hour on a bicycle with no rubber tires wearing a helmet and full battle gear, carryng a machine gun, a gas mask, and a cardboard box full of live ammunition, in order to wake up an officer in his flat so that he can lead our entire sapper regiment to the westen borders on an exercise to defend the communist world against NATO trops ( the same organization whose summit I will inaugaurate in Prague forty-four years later). But in fact, even my two years in the army, and even more so my five years in prison, seem to me an unreal and indescribable dream, albeit in this case a very dark one. And so I must ultimately pose the question as to whether all of this—the fact that such a peaceable man ended up living such an adventurous life—isn’t a result of the fact that life itself, even the most ordinary and the most inconspicuous life, is an unbelievable miracle. A fairy tale at times beautiful, at times suspenseful, at times terrifying.

Photo... my boys: Mr enthusiasmo and Wall-eye the hat, my favorite and most hard working day labourers. And, these guys would call after me on my walk home, just to check in, see how I was getting on... These are the guys I fought for.

action pants

2007-05-06T11:26:00.000-07:00

attempt #3? Me, Fede, and the asparagus tree...can you spot my action pants? See the citation below for my kierkegaardian inspiration for the name of this blog

A quick catch up

2007-05-06T11:17:00.000-07:00

The Pakistani peacekeepers (my neighbors), have been practicing the bagpipes and marching drums; a church nearly moved into my neighborhood, but after nearly 48 hours of Pentecostal enthusiasm, they seem to have disappeared—though at one point, sometime around day break, they began to sing proper Congolese melodies, haunting beautiful and soft; Rwandair published an article on Gustav the crocodile, complete with pictures; I was caught (again) on the wrong side of some sort of security incident in town, and rather than be evacuated by the extraction team, I had to spend the night in perhaps the nicest hotel of my life; I went to Cape Town and Came back….

I’ve only just noticed that I haven’t really kept up with this blog, I suppose I’ve been too busy living my life to write about it post-hoc. Nevertheless, I’m writing now and all I really have to say is that, as usual, so much has happened, so many strange and wonderful encounters, so many frustrations, so much more than I could possibly get into a brief comment about ‘my life’.

For now then, let it be known that I’m leaving the heart of Darkness, and heading back to Vancouver. I’m putting together a number of ‘top ten’ lists, an exercise in thinking and reflecting about the positive aspects of the last year—cynicism is easy, and lately me and my colleagues have tended to be particularly critical—so top ten lists and some serious thought about what I’m leaving here, what I’m taking away, and why, in 5 years, I could come back and find that nothing has changed…

For those of you who I have somehow managed to exclude from my contact list (my accident of course!) and might be in the pacific north west early summer, I plan to be back in the ‘couve hopefully by the end of may, ish allah.

Please, also, read the zizke quote in the entry below…it captures something I thought it particularly striking…

Pics--Cape Good hope, Cape Good hope again, and an the sun rising over Glen Cairn.

Fun times with Slavoj Zizek

2007-05-06T10:41:00.000-07:00

In Autumn 1992, after I had delivered a lecture on Hitchcock at an American campus, a member of the public asked me indignantly: How can you talk about such a trifling subject when you ex-country is dying in flames? My answer was: How is it that you in the USA can talk about Hitchcock? There is nothing traumatic in me behaving as befits a victim and testifying to the horrible events in my country—such behaviour cannot but arouse compassion and a false feeling of guilt that is the negative of a narcissistic satisfaction – that is, of my audience’s awareness that are all right while things are going badly for me. But I vioate a silent prohibition the moment I start to behave like them and talk about Hitchcock, not about the horrors of war in ex-Yugoslavia…This experience of mine tells us a lot about what is really unbearable to the Western gaze in the present Balkan conflict. Suffice it to recall a typical report from besieged Sarajevo: reporters compete with each other on who will find a more repulsive scene—lacerated children’s bodies, raped women, starved prisoners: all this is good fodder for hungry western eyes. However, the media are far more sparing of words apropros of how the residents of Sarajevo desperately endeavour to maintain the appearance of normal life. The tragedy of Sarjevo is epitomized in an elderly clerk who takes a walk to his office every day as usual, but has to quicken his pace at a certain crossroads because of a Serbian sniper lurks on a nearby hill; in a disco that operates ‘normally’, although one can hear explosions in the background; in a young woman who forces her way through ruins to the court in order to obtain a divorce so that she can start to live with her lover; in the issue of the Bosnian cinema monthly that appeared in Sarajevo in spring 1993 and published essays on Scorsese and Almodovar…

The unbearable is not the difference. The unbearable is the fact that in a sense there is no difference: there are no exotic bloodthirsty ‘balkanians’ in Sarajevo, just normal citizens like us. The moment we take full not of this fact, the frontier that separates ‘us’ from ‘them’ is exposed in all its arbitrariness, and we are forced to renounce the safe distance of external observers: as in a Moebius band, the part and the whole coincide, so that it is no longer possible to draw a clear and unambiguous line of separation between us who live in a ‘true’ peace and the residents of Sarajevo who pretend as far as possible that they are living in peace—we are forced to admit that in a sense we also imitate peace, live in a the fiction of peace. Sarajevo is not an island, an exception within the sea of normality; on the contrary, this alleged normality is itself an island of fictions within the common warfare. This is what we try to elude by stigmatizing the victim—that is, by locating the victim in the blemished domain between the two deaths: as if the victim were a pariah, a kind of living dead confined to the sacred fantasy-space.

Slavoj Zizek—The Metastases of Enjoyment: on Women and Causality.

About brainbeats and action pants

2007-05-01T00:34:00.000-07:00

Blogger has changed something, and it seems serious!
So here's an attempt to load not only a picture, but a picture of both my action pants AND the Asparagus tree--which is still alive, has flowered, spawned new asparagus trees, but has begun to lilt at a precarious angle...

as for the "brain beats", below is a prescient little quip from Soren Kierkegaard's diaries.
Up Next, Slavoj Zizek and my misadventures in cape town and beyond
C

Of all the sciences physical science is decidedly the most insipid, and I find it amusing to reflect how, with the passing of time, that becomes trite which once called forth amazement, for such is the invariable lot of the discoveries inherent in ‘the bad infinity’. Just remember what a stir it made when the Stethoscope was introduced. Soon we shall have reached the point where every barber will use it and, when shaving you , will ask: would you like to be stethoscoped, Sir? Then someone will invent an instrument for listening to the beats of the brain. That will make a tremendous stir until, in 50 years, every barber can do it. Then in a barbershop, when one has had a haircut and a shave and has been stethoscoped (for by the it will be very common) the barber will ask: Perhaps you would also like me to listen to you brain-beats?

Soren Kierkegaard, 1846

Darwin's mad props go out to...

2007-02-19T07:54:00.000-08:00

Faithful blog readers…
After a weekend of personally replying to the personal replies I received from the last mass email I sent out this week to my contact list…my fingers are sore, my knuckles ache, but I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy inside! ‘Home’, its never ceases to amaze me how regularly I’m startled—pleasantly so—by where I find artifact of ‘home’. Something so small and seemingly insignificant as a couple-lined email from an old friend, can nearly bring you to tears, jog your memory, remind you that you exist in the world of someone nearly lost in the fog of memory…

Alright, enough philosophication, this week, I’ll keep it brief: a thought, two t-shirts and a sweater, and TWO new features…the word(s) of the week and the Darwin award. Ready?
The shirts this week are a little less sexually suggestive, but eye catching nonetheless
(in French) “I eat vegetables, look how strong I am…”—text above and below a smiling elephant. Courage, mes chere vegans, meme vous pouvez etre forte!
And
“Beware, I’m a Tottie »--not sure what that’s about, but I thought it noteworthy.
And
The Albanian flag, double headed eagle and all, knitted sweater, can only imagine who’s immigrant grandmother slaved away on this as a Christmas present for some ungrateful grandson who promptly gave it away to a charity that sold it to a wholesaler who shipped it to Kenya, and somehow wound up sold to some guy in kadutu market—mind you it has been cold here as of late.

The words of the week:
Motard—french, pronounced Moe—Tard, the guy who drives 125cc motorcycle-taxi, like a hysteric on methamphetamines. In an effort to be more sensitive and politically correct, I’m starting a public education campaign to change the term to developmentally disabled moto-taxi drivers…

Kiwelewele—keeping with the theme, this is the Swahili term for someone who is completely out of their gourd, perhaps someone who has succumbed to cerebral malaria. A very useful word given that, when used in the proper context, it carries with it a certain nuance of meaning…suggesting that the individual you are addressing as such, though perhaps not suffering from malaria, is still, nonetheless, totally useless, and locked up, under the watchful care of his grandmother…

Septicaemia—a particular category of desease, to which family, Cholera is a member. Children seem to like this word a lot and pick it up quickly during impromptu English language lessons near cholera treatment centers… la bas, il y a la cholera, attention, c’est un maladie septicaemic…en anglais… Setptecaemia, encore tous ensemble….septecaemia.

The thought of the week—“who needs donkey (or any other beast of burden) when we have women.” Apparently there’s a desease here that kills donkeys. They’ve never been successfully bread in the great lakes region…But no worries, women are more than capable of carrying ridiculously large burdens from here to there while men watch on, or carry ‘important’ papers.—I’ve been meaning to write about this phenom…les porteurs de papier et les porteuses des fardos…when I get some pics, I’ll write more, but for now, suffice it to say that I actually heard this thought uttered aloud by a man this week.

And finally the Darwin award—for those who demonstrate a resilience in the face of adversity and those who embody a total disregard for the will to live…
As this is the first instalment of this particular feature, we’ll keep it light hearted:
The Youth With A Mission (YWAM) get the award this week fort their boldness and ingenuity, for having solicited from us (their neighbors) a venue to host their whiskey sour (going away) party, which would not have been deemed acceptable among their fundamentalist handlers.
And the award for total disregard for personal safety goes to one of my favorite interns here in Bukavu, who will remain nameless, and who, after a lovely evening with a number of more experienced (and gainfully employed) colleagues, left our host’s home with just enough gas to put her vehicle square in front of the military barracks of the guard for the provincial HQ of the Forces Army DR Congo. The FARDC, for those of you who don’t know, is the national army, made up of elements of each of the noteworthy war lords’ of the region’s rapist, drug addled militia—here will call the process of integration “brassage”—sorry for the poor grammar—and at present, they—being the national army--are the single biggest violator of human rights in the country. We came to her rescue, saved the day so to speak, towed her car into town, found some fuel, and all got home safe and sound. The issue, however is that this is the 7th time this has happened. The 7th time the national NGO responsible for this intern and who allows her to drive their vehicle, has left the tank empty…AND it’s the 7th time that this licensed motor vehicle operator has failed to ensure that her vehicle has enough fuel to get her home at night…so remember folks, never ever let the tank get below half-empty.

Good night
C

The pics...
1. a repeat, but super nonetheless, Shikooroo and the smurf (sounds like a magna flick, no?)
2. some kid and his mad skills, breakin' it down on the dirty dance floor...kisaniola, salon la baute, hit it!
3. I've misplaced my camera, so one more super pic from Julie P....a women, from somewere around here...

February Fun Tims

2007-02-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

Well, I’ve been here for 2 days short of 8 months, have conceded the fact that I am a terrible at posting regular updates on the blog, and frankly, I’m not going to feel bad about it anymore…I suspect that my target audience is just as bad at reading these irregular postings!
Nevertheless, a few thoughts, a few stories, and a few pictures

The Highlights:
1.the curious incident of the drunk guard, the bloddied DGM, and the night the presidential guard wrecked our party.
2.two accidents, two lanes, and two things that make Congolese impatient
3.How I nearly got beat up in the homosexual quarter of Paris
4.Michel Dupont, his bloated colon, and a similiarly curious event in Paris
6.The single biggest reason Vivaldy is no longer welcome at my house

T-Shirts of the week:
I’ll tell you what jimmy says—strange, somewhat non-sequitur (arent’ they all?)
FBI (Female Body Inspector)—spotted on a slightly more than rotund Bulgarian pilot at the UN restaurant/club
My Govenor can beat up your governor—spotted in town, not sure if it was reffering to the cross-eyed, fence straddling, republican/democrat Guvenator of California or Jesse “the Body” Ventura (Rep-Wis?)

Sound track—rocking out to wolf parade and ladyhawk—and CBC radio three podcast #62—summer roadtrip mix tap.

See below for all the wild and wonderful vignettes mentioned above.
No time, no problem…. Stay safe, stay engaged, and be sure to remain gainfully employed
Those of you who may be heading to Central African Republic, Chechnya, or Kashmir in the next month or so---may see you there.
More later

Peace
C

1. So ACTED threw a party, not that unusual, but they failed to ensure that those drinking beer weren’t responsible for bouncing at the gate. Lots of people, lots of booze, a little emotion—M. and B. were leaving for ever—and no shortage of large, road blocking white land cruisers…So, mr. Big—somehow connected or in charge of a big gov’t agency—decided that he wanted to take his family home, and to his surprise, the gate to his compound was blocked by at least one of these big trucks…patience reigned in the instance, and the guards of the ACTED house went 3 times to sort out the situation…BUT failed to realize that they should’ve found the boss, had him turn off the music, identify the double parker, and move on…instead, the guy and his family waited for an hour, during which time his patience wained, and eventually, he walked into the compound and found himself in confrontation with a less-than-sober guard. In the space of 2 minutes, Mr Big—and patient—wound up smashed in the face with the empty beer bottle the guard happened to be carrying (not a little Canadian ‘stubby’ but a big nasty 750ml Primus bottle)…more over, the poor sop, bloddied from the bludgeoning, was carried out an tossed onto one of the white trucks blocking his gate…Ironic, no? Little surprise, then, that Mr. Big decided to solicite the assistance of his friends presidential guard. Guns drawn, Mr. Big’s friend, the Big Mr, Big’s big buddies came into the compound, black fatigues and pink barrets and dragged out the (now sorry) guard that had been so stupid as to think that smashing someone in the face with a beer bottle was a great way to resolve a dispute…this week’s Darwin award goes to...

2. The rains in Congo eat roads, bore giant potholes in the most durable surfaces (even bitumen)…this rainy season, one of the main roads—a boulevard, two broad lanes separated by grass-covered partition—has been chewed up so bad that the dubai-special taxis can no longer manage to navigate the potholes…but this is only on one side of the boulevard. For whatever reason the other half of the road is in great condition. So, every suicidal taxi-driver, truck driver, and mo-tard (French for motorcyclist) have taken to driving on the nice side of the street, on coming traffic or no… this week alone, I’ve witness two accidents, and a third near-miss…it reminded me of what an old hand had once told me—Congolese are only in a rush when in line, or behind the wheel of a car!
The curiosity in all this is that the traffic cops—who’s sole purpose in life/profession is to collect taxes on the road—have failed to realize the revenue potential of this restriction in movement…I keep telling them to move their check point/tax collection racket to the other side of the street, but they wont listen…

3. Paris—I would recommend that the next time you happen to be in paris that you keep you eyes wide open for any indication that you’ve passed from one neighborhood to another as simply crossing a street can put you in the middle of a totally different community. I found myself in the gay district of paris, freezing to death, sporting a kaffya to ward off the wind, crossed a street and was smack dab in the middle of the jewish quarter…Gay district, jewish quarter, what was certain was that I was confronted by not one but 3 or 4, 500 pound gorillas concerned about my choice of scarf… Lesson—don’t stare at your feet whilst walking in paris, be sure to know who’s neighborhood your cruising, and do your best not to offend the cultural sensitivities of the local security guards.

4. Paris (also)—I stepped out of the metro station at Les Halles…and walked in to Michel Dupont, my old financial controller here in congo, now stationed with his wife in tchad…he’d just been evacuated from wherever he was, underwent emergency surgery for what I understood to be a problem of relating to an overly giant colon (he’s quebequois)…Congo, Tchad, Paris…the world is truly not as big and scary as some might still believe

5. Vivaldi, our handcapped, love-starved, overwhelmingly vocal, scardy-cat is about to find himself a new home. He and his sister stanlette have been kicked to the curb, or rather, to the new WarChild residence. I haven’t shed a tear, I have no second thoughts…the little monster sprayed my shoes with his cat funk. It took me nearly two weeks to figure out just why my office smelt of cat urine, but I figured it out….and now vivaldy has a new home.

Wolai tabarack fee,
Next week—a new feature, the Darwin award…tributes to those who demonstrate unrivaled resilience and ingenuity in their struggle for survival out here in the jungle…and those who demonstrate a remarkable disregard for those instincts that shore up our conscious inability to foresee a menace to our continued existence…

mortars and all things wild and wonderful

2007-01-08T08:31:00.000-08:00

Calgary Sucks and a pictographic of how one can get out of a bad date…the two best T-shirts so far this new year…

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year to you all. My most sincerest apologies for keeping from y’all, all the wildly absurd stories I’ve collected these last few weeks. But things have been crazy busy, unhealthily busy for much of the end of the year, and then, as if being blown out of a canon, I boarded a plane and wandered Europe for a whopping 3 weeks! I’m rested, restored, a few kilos heavier, and I may have even gained a bit of perspective on life and profession—I even got my very first “headhunting” email from a large INGO that will for the time being remain nameless.

So, all that to say, I’m feeling great, feeling strong…ate more pate and Roquefort than anyone ought to eat, especially after a week of stilton. I leave you then with my most heartfelt best wishes for the year, a few photos, an belated vignette on Gustav of Ruzizi (I hope I haven’t mentioned this previously) and two wildly absurd anecdotes from my last field trip before the holiday…

Right, so before I left for holidays, I took a quick tour through the south south with a photojournalist/consultant from UNICEF, a lovely and VERY good at what she does (www.juliepudlowski.com )…we stopped off at all the usual stops, swung by the Cholera treatment centre in Uvira, visited the nutritional centre on the hospital grounds, ran into the ACF nutritionist responsible (quite the surprise, we were in ‘fur together), she mentioned that the chief doctor was giving them problems…I looked into it and found out that they were pushing to move the centre to the old CTC, which was more than reasonable given that they had just built a brand new CTC with world bank funds—see some earlier entry—well, I asked the guy about it, noting that even though the CTC was built and beautiful, they were still admitting patients to the old CTC, which is effectively a big plastic bag full of crap…you know what he said? There was no way they could possible admit patients to the new structure and thereby liberate the old CTC for more important matters, because they had a serious problem—that hadn’t any DRAPES! I turned to this consultant, who confirmed that he said that aloud…maybe it was poor form, but I laughed in his face…the thought that, after probably close to a 100,000$ new structure being built for just this problem, it was not functional because it lacked curtains…and to take this discussion one step over the line of the absurd, he said he couldn’t use the tarps from the old structure because it wasn’t “proper”.Anecdote #2…after 8 hours bombing around in our jeep we stopped at an emergency school my team built, which will remain hither to nameless, a lovely school, a super community effort, everything was done, and I was going to show off our work…you know what I found? Half a school! And an carcass of a 2nd structure…no desks, no students…and though I had already been there on a previous occasion to lambaste the carpenters, and sent a team to finish it themselves, I found it undone!
Now, again, la coup de grace that took this particular instance across the threshold of the unbelievable…I found an artillery position in the structure that was complete!

Gustav and the lake
Today I learnt of Gustav, the giant gator, a lonely monster who lives somewere in the ruzizi plain, near the edge of lake Tanganyika, or by some accounts, further up river near the escarpment . Either way, this prehistoric beast eats the occasional Congolese—apparently only once every two years or so—has outlived the elephants and other wildlife that used to live in the plain, wars, mines, and hungry militia-men. And unlike the more amphibious lake monsters of Tanganyika, there are photos of this guy…but I haven’t found them yet. Jaws a metre across, a body 12m long…huge, no?
Here’s the web site for his fan club… http://membres.lycos.fr/supercroco/

The pics:
1. where’s waldo? The dummy is outside the frame of this shot, getting the scolding of his life from one very angry muzungu
2. a sweet little girl from the nutritional centre
3. perhaps the most strikingly strong image of a women from gety idp camp, ituri
(thanks Julie)

Know He ain't a chicken, hope he ain't a turkey

2006-12-14T07:21:00.000-08:00

Found the Guinea foul, both of them, one had spent 3 days under some stairs...Thanksgiving was a hoot. Two guinea foul, an Idjwi turkey, slow roasted, with sweet potatoes...everyone turned out, including the cats and the dogs.

will keep it brief for now, lots of crazy, borderline absurd things have happened the last few weeks, I'll share some of it this weekend, but for the time being, please join me in congratulating the People of Congo on the election (and subsequent investiture) of the Incumbent president, Joseph Kabila...

Most of us expected a meltdown, who would have thought that the elections would have gone off so succesfully?!
Happy Thursday
C

a kanga in the bush is worth how many hours of sleep?

2006-11-23T00:27:00.000-08:00

If I were a Kanga…
So, my prized Guinea Foul, purchased yesterday for thanksgiving (america)…they’ve gone missing. We clipped the wings yesterday to be sure they wouldn’t “fly away”, but they fled immediately, one to the back of my house, the other underneath the guard shack by the second gate. Apparently the little monsters are delicious and benny the dog is afraid of them. I think they’re too big for the cats and a hawk would have trouble carrying it off. Not quite as big as a turkey, but larger than a chicken, they have speckled feathers, grey, and they move gracefully, like a big grey box sliding through the air. The weird thing is that they’ve got this horn on the top of their head and their morning wake up call is an ethereal, bone chilling fusion of a chicken clucking and the screech of a pig about to lose its life
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeech
Cluckcluckcluckcluck
Both, at the same time.

Yes, I’ve lost the Kanga twins, but I will gain the resentment of my colleagues when, tomorrow morning (say 5am?), they emerge from their hideout and sing for their breakfast…

Kabila, Kapita, and the Kanga twins, pt 2

2006-11-23T00:15:00.000-08:00

This is part 2 of a two part summary of my wild and crazy week...the page didn't load properly, so you might want to begin with the next entry below...
C

12:30…our business day ends at 16:30, which left me 4 hours to work out all my arrangements and of course, beat the Bukavu Bureaucracy---liberating cash from finance, arranging transportation with Logs, and getting permission to travel international. Well, in short, I pulled it off…only took one extra day and a bout of food poisoning! In those precious four hours, managed to make arrangements with IRC-Burundi to assist with my transportation from the Rwandan border and accommodation while I staged from Bujumbura (the capital), which happens to be directly opposite Uvira, 30km as the crow flies; made arrangements with OCHA-Uvira for a vehicle to meet me at the DRC-Bur border to ferry me around and to organize a meeting of stakeholders for the latrine work; made arrangements with logistics to drop me off at the Rwanda-Burundi border; secured cash for the trip (amazing ,given recent challenges), justified all outstanding cash advances in order to release those funds. And at the end of the day, my boss was satisfied that the arrangements met the conditions and I was cleared to go… 3 countries, two IRC offices, 1 night, and with both countries security restrictions, mere hours to get a whole lot of work done.

Now, nothing happens as planned, we’ve established that already, no? The border crossings—all four of them the first day—took more time than usual...on the DRC side, everyone is worried about losing their jobs when the election is sorted and new individuals are appointed (with their buddies) to key admin posts…in Rwanda they’ve computerized the immigration dept. but their new machine had difficulty reading my old-school “not Machine Readable” passport; no one could find the functionary at the other Rwandan crossing; and at the Burundi crossing, I was caressed by the immigration officer, who (in all seriousness) circled me like a predator, whilst touching my arm and commenting on my skin while his colleague issued my entry visa—bringing to mind a thought that I hope I had at least mentioned in this blog (perhaps the Ethiopian entry?) where a colleague had made the comparison of the experience of harassment suffered by women with that experienced by humanitarians. My Satphone wouldn’t work, couldn’t inform my colleagues in Congo that I would not make our rendezvous, and IRC-Bur security restrictions ensured that there would be no way I could return to Bukavu after work the following day, thereby adding an additional night to what was suppose to be an overnight trip. Arrangements were made anew, a security check made first thing (9:30!) the next morning, and I was off…two more border points, a 2nd visa, a long walk across no-man’s land, and by the time I made it to the other side, I had no more than 3 hours to get everything done, including hike up the mountain to the school site, pay the labourers, and coordinate the latrine project, before getting back into Burund in time for their travel curfew! Unbelievable.

First stop, the school…sent two fellows to get the Kapita and all the carpenters together (not a bright idea) and then I made straight up the hill for the school. Busted my ass to get up there quickly to inspect the structures before the Kapita and the guys got together back at the base of the hill…well I nearly flipped out when I made it to the site! Already a day and a half behind schedule, only one of the structures had actually been built, no latrine pit, half the other structure, no desks, no tarps…Blown away, I was totally blown away, I saw the community come out in strength and enthusiasm to start this work, the kids were accommodated in other schools for the time being, and I had thought I had seen community initiative/mobilization in the initial attempt to reopent the road (I found out later that I had been mistaken)…but no, it was as though when my engineer left for Bukavu (as per security restrictions), work stopped and all that creative potential went into figuring out how to swindle us…essentially, our aggrement in principle was broken, and it was all I could do to not lambaste the community authorities for their willingness to squander assistance for their children…they aimed to add 2x the number of labourers and double (at least) the amount of time invested in the overall project…blown away, and as the crowd of (unpaid) young men started to gather and make their complaints about this and that (wood is insufficient, we haven’t been paid, etc)…I walked away, Kapita in one hand, and the head of the parents committee in the other...They were obliged to escort me back to the truck waiting for me, and I explained to them, in no uncertain terms, that I would give them one day’s notice before returning to settle accounts, and that their opportunism had better be overtaken by a community driven will to complete the school before I get back…
Then I was off, a bit of sunstroke brewing in my dehydrated brain…the latrine thing went off well and I got out of there with minutes (literally) to spare before I’d have been subject to the wraith of the IRC-Bur security officer. And once I had settled into the front seat of our yellow hilux, I pulled a ham sandwich out of my sack and ate half, sharing the other bit with the driver.

I puked all night….he did not.

That night, Kabila was declared the winner of the elections…Bemba was not.

But for all of the drama, obstacles, and deviations (of border guards and otherwise), I got back to Bukavu , safe and sound…

Some less wordy miscellanea to follow, as we continue to be restricted in our mvt’ this week.

Peace
C
Pics—some kid…another kid…action shot—talking to kids!

Kabila, Kapita, and the Kangas twins…pt 1

2006-11-22T08:17:00.000-08:00

For those of you who don’t have time to read everything below (which I’ve split into two parts), here are the “Grandes Lignes” of my week:

1.Kabila won the elections, Bemba is contesting the results
2.I somehow managed to get to the field this week to find that the people of Kigongo had managed to do next to nothing about the emergency primary school
3.I ate a bad ham sandwich

Soundtrack—Pinback, summer in abbadon…and a little bit of “Fat Freddy’s Drop”—a bit of slow jam New Zealand soul

This week, as is so often the case in Congo, nothing happened according to plan…Though given until the 19th (today) to declare the official results of the presidential run-off, CEI decided to announce the election results on the 16th, while I was still in Burundi, wretching from a nasty little ham sandwich… Kabila, came in with 58.05% of the vote (bemba, having scored app20% last time, came in with over 40% this time around)…effectively becoming DRC’s first democratically elected (universal suffrage) since independence. The supreme court has to endorse the results, and this wont happen until after they’ve judged the validity of Bemba’s legal challenge (raised against something or other)—bow to stern the process must be concluded within 10days from the date of the announcement…Bemba promised to pursue his case through legal means and forego violence, for now, but the election results—as I’m sure you’ve all seen on the BBC (or maybe Al-Jezeera’s new English broadcast?)—show a marked division between the east and the west of the country (the former Lingala-phone, the latter Swahili-phone)… lots of speculation, lots of talk, a little bit of manacing, but for the time being everything is calm and Kabila supporters are celebrating… The big catch is that Bemba has been indicted for War Crimes in Central African Republic—we’ve been discussing the international legal ramifications of this, and little fishy on the details, but essentially, Bemba has evaded extradition to the Hague by virtue the protection/immunity offered by his position as VP…were his status in Gov’t to change, or if Kabila thought it best, he would eligible for an indeterminate holiday in the Netherlands. So there’s a lot on the table, and again, lots of speculation and talking (frankly, I’m quite tired of it!)…would Kabila pull him into his cabinet, would he move against him immediately, would Bemba’s military apparatus be able to react in the absence of the personality and the wallet of its patron, would Bemba accept anything less than becoming the new president “elect”? Who know’s, and we certainly wont find out any more before next week…

Now, about the Ham sandwich. As I mentioned last week, we’ve been terribly restricted in our movements. As a general precaution, during the actual election, the period comprising the suspected/determined date for the announcement of the results, we’ve been forbidden for spending nights in the field. The implications for my department were paralytic—There are very few places in South Kivu were my team has work that can be achieved, even in-part, in a single day. But the decision was sweeping, was applicable to all departments, and in the absence of any certainty regarding the results or the candidate’s reaction, the measures would hereforthwith be maintained until further notice! But not to be outdone, we managed to negotiate an emergency trip to Kigongo/Uvira for a small response with regards to the damaged school and a few flood-affected families (I’m not online at present, but I’m pretty sure I wrote about this previously) Well, seeing that we couldn’t conduct any of our planned activities last, I sent everyone home for holidays, and set myself to the task of trying to convince my bosses to let me out for a couple nights—to verify completion of the emergency school, to settle accounts with the labourers involved in its construction, confirm the NFI distribution had been successful (conducted remotely with the assistance of TearFund), and argue the toss regarding the financing of emergency latrines at a military camp that was swiftly become a vector for another cholera epidemic in Uvira…Monday, 12:30, I got permission from the Country director (at present, my direct supervisor) to hurry down to Uvira to complete the above mentioned activities, but only if the following conditions were met:
1.no travel to the site through the DRC (the route can be a little sketchy) and I was not permitted to spend the night in the field(as already mentioned)
2.no National staff, No IRC-DRC vehicles—Just me, my satphone, and a list of possible car-pooles!
3.confirm all arrangements prior to departure—EVERYTHING had to be in place before they’d let me out.
the pics--my buddy the Kapita with all his buddies...the interim solution to the "rocks everywere" problem, saw the first big lorry get through(had to drive through the old school's yard...action shot--me and haile walking down the other side of the nice new ramp

see below for the next instalment

C

The asperagus tree and the landslide

2006-11-13T08:17:00.000-08:00

The asparagus tree—still don’t know its official name, but did manage to learn one curious fact about this enigmatic plant…like pacific salmon, the plant’s reproductive process is in fact a swan song—the plant grows, matures, flowers, and promptly dies. The “flower”, for the lack of a more technical term, is full of mini asparagus trees and at the appointed time, drops its little clones all about the base of the plant where they take root (of course) and begin the process anew...I'll see if I can't capture the moment in film.

for the time being, enjoy these shots from the "landslide" in kigongo...mud in the classrooms...the fissure--the rocks came from this little canyon...one of the biggest rocks in the field...more when I can, I have to get down there and back before the election announcements.
peace
C

Elections and Landslides (one might hope)

2006-11-06T12:17:00.000-08:00

Alright, for all you democracy-philes out there, all reports from Bukavu indicate that the run-off elections for the presidency have passed without major incident. I’ve heard of tension in the deep south of this province, and country wide, as expected, Kinshasa is tense (we withdrew all Kin staff to Bukavu), and there were a few delays/problems in Bunia and the Ituri district.

So, all that to say…things are quiet, no emergencies, and even if there were, security precautions at present dictate that these emergencies must kept to within a days drive (aller/retour)! So this week, I’ll share with you all a little miscellanea, a touch of trivia…Congo river vs Darwin’s nightmare….Kierkegaard’s brainbeats…the positive attributes of cholera outbreaks…Gustav the gator…and new technology less attention.

Let me leave you this week with a picture of the destruction caused these last few days by heavy rains south of Uvira…I haven’t seen the film footage, but from what ACTED caught on tape, the river/runoff from the haut-plateau rose to 3m above normal…the rocks it brought down the mountain…some well over 2m in diameter, are spread across, ontop, and all the way down the main north south axis for nearly 100m—a fact not evident in the pictures….no road access south of uvira for the next 2 months at least.

Happy Monday
C

pics--the rock slide that wrecked my week's plans...1/3 prov now no longer accessible by road....a bunch of IDP students super happy learning super things, while their super parents go off to less than super fields to cultivate in relative insecurity.

Can you see the mustache?

2006-11-06T06:02:00.000-08:00

alright, zoom in, zoom in a close as you can...the biggest mustache in Congo--a pakistani of Baluchistan....the wildest mustache I've ever seen in africa...

Volcanos and elections

2006-10-27T09:20:00.000-07:00

I went to Goma. I saw a volcano, some people, a few election poster's....and these vehicles--trapped in lava.
The elections are sunday, I'll be trapped in the compound, and so I'm sure I'll come up with some sort of witty up date for this weekend.

As for the correct answers to last week's super quizz, the correct responses are as follows:
1. the guy in the corner, maybe the one with the red shirt, Jan egeland is the Deputy secretary general of the UN (I think)--responsible for humanitarian affairs. and we're visiting Luhago.

2. the bush is definitely an "Asperagus Tree"

3. I'm wearing the infamous "action pants" and Ms Federica is to my left.

Happy Friday

Super fun-time action Quizz

2006-10-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

Alright, quiz time...three questions, three answers. Ready? Here we go...
1. Who is making the goofiest face or gesture in this picture--Bonus, were's Jan Egeland, what does he do? Double bonus, who can identify the village we visited together?

Next...

2. What is the name for this asperagus-like plant?

3. (you'll probably have to scroll down) Were are the infamous "action pants" Hint--my pet asperagus is not wearing them. Bonus, who can spot my lovely italian house-mate, Federica?

So, keep track of your answers...don't toss away that scrap of paper. Prizes Prizes Prizes, I'll post the correct answers next week!

Amanda/Neil--you'll notice that the pants are little worse for wear, a few new patches, but they still going strong--I'll be wearing them when I come home!

stay safe, eat well, don't forget Darfur, Congo (2nd round presidential elections in 2 weeks), or those living through war in every other corner of the planet

Which way to relaxation?

2006-10-01T05:06:00.000-07:00

ETHIOPIA

Stepped out of my hotel, pocket full of Birr, and hopped a bus heading in the total opposite direction I had intended—that about sums up my trip. I wandered and walked, throughout the capital and throughout the country. Nothing worked out as planned, and I couldn’t find a quiet place. Ethiopia is super hospitable, indeed I had a ‘friend’ in attendance wherever I went…though, unbeknownst to those patriots in the capital, most of my ‘friends’ were trying to get something out of me.
But a truly lovely country.

So, here are some of the highlights…Heards of animals wandering through the capital, a bull tearing down the main thoroughfare…Tried/chewed Chat, a mild stimulant, not unlike a coffee buzz—lost 3 nights sleep…Partied like it was 1999, sept 11 was new years, ’99 according to the gragorian calendar…6am is actually 0am in ethiopia…tried to pay my visa and catch a plane northward, found out that my visa card had been reported stolen (erroneously by Visa int’l) while I was in Dubai—they wired me some cash, but my card is now useless…abandoned the flight north, hitched south instead…Found the southerners of a vastly different temperament—started moving back north almost immediately!...visited the Rastafarians of Shashamane, the Promise land Bob Marley always spoke of…was nearly robbed in shashamane by young wannabe Rastafarians—good thing I had a 1000$ dollars in my pocket, thanks VISA…spent the afternoon with the High Priest of Rastafarianism…met an industrialist Rastafarian from sudan—doing business with fat business men from Khartoum, pile of dope on the hood of the car, and the peace-loving rastaman was packing a piece…left the promise land a little shocked but with all my personal effects…swam in the only bilharzia-free lake in the rift valley (lake tana)…went for a very long walk (+15km) to a visit a town that apparently doesn’t’ exist…discovered that rural Ethiopians don’t understand anything I say—gestures, grunts, pictures included…discovered that rural Ethiopian children are a tenacious bunch who know no fear and can repeat the same phrase—give me bic….faranji…allo allo allo—repeatedly, ad nauseum for the better part of an hour…discovered that when the same children fall behind for having winded themselves, there is another half dozen waiting in the wings to take their place—15 plus kilometers, not a moment alone nor a moment’s peace…discovered that, when pushed to wits end, I have the ability to throw rocks at children—light, lava rocks… saw the hides of the heards of animals wondering the capital following new year’s celebration…watched my ride take pictures of the carnage on the road back to Addis—vehicles torn to pieces by speed—not unlike the highways in Kenya…the coptics tries to make me pay to visit their church Sunday morning…discovered the old arms dump for the Ethiopian army—including the remains of their navy fleet (ehtiopia is now a land locked coutry…wandered the streets and slums of Addis Ababa with out any concern for my safety—the safest city I have ever visited!...hoards of homeless line the streets, a stark contrast to the wealth of the middle class of the city—tent settlements on many downtown sidewalks…stumbled into and promptly left a brothel…drank the best coffee I’ve ever tasted—EVER...

There you go, in short, my trip to Ethiopia.

Pics-- Three monkeys--spotted on a random street corner...Collage(clockwise from upper left)--THE Rastafarian priests, reading good ole' leviticus before church...two aspiring Rastafathiopians, smoking before church...Statue of Uncle Marx...an Ethiopian Soldier standing(sitting) guard over the derelict ethiopian Navy...cute sheep, tasty supper...Taking photos of other people's suffering, What would Susan Sontag say--my ride north...some scenic trees...some scenic coffee...and a scenic rock.

C

Ethiopia...Part 1

2006-09-26T09:42:00.000-07:00

Alright, I went to Ethiopia...and I met people.
How about that for a synopsis? There are people in Ethiopia. And here is pictographic evidence!
Stories to follow (I'm still trying to get through my inbox now that I am back in the Congo!)

Collage (clockwise from the left): an old man with huge glasses and a cool hat...New Years troubadours (cute as a buttons)...another guy...the cutest little girl ever...another old man, spotted amongst a group of mafioso like characters sitting in front of a coffe shop--not unlike the back room at Abruzzo...two street kids(traded Birr for pictures)...another street kid...my buddy from worldvision, his face has been like that ever since making a funny face as a child...a kid who threw himself in the lake for me (weird, huh?)
Another kid, threw himself in the lake after the previous one...
A lady who convince her cow to pose...her kids followed me for at least 2km.

right, more pictures to follow, and of course the skinny on all my misadventures...
(maybe its a bit early, but I'm going to be headng out of country late december....anyone have any suggestions. I'm looking for a little bit of peace and quiet, and ANONYMITY.

Pace e tranquillo
C

Rains, Jacaranda, and my new Tent

2006-09-21T04:06:00.000-07:00

Right, so I'm back from ethiopia, the rainy season is about to dump oceanic amounts of water on south kivu, the Jacaranda is in full-bloom, and I've got a brand new mobile storage unit--a tent twice as big as my grandma's house.

I'll be posting all sorts of shots and stories over the weekend...but for now, here's a few pics:
some guys loading up emergency relief kits in the new tent...some guy who showed up for jan egeland's visit to Luhago--anyone catch the coverage of his trip? we showed him around the IDP groupments in the hills...a cute kid...and pictographic proof of perhaps the wildest t-shirt yet! Believe it or not, there was a women in the same village whom I came across earlier in the day who had the following slogan--"there not 'hotflashes', they are energy surges!" Menopause, Male pattern baldness, wonderous the transformations that attend agedness...
C

holes, canals, and the bridge wfp couldn't cross

2006-09-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

Right, I’ve had a strange week. In fact, I’m recovering from Malaria (sort of), nearly caught Cholera, saw a forest fire, drove into a hole, found myself outside during a shoot out, and was evauated to safety by the trusty Bukavu mobile police squad.

If you want to read more, scroll down. For those of you who only want to know of the week’s wild t-shirt sitings, soundtrack, or the “brainbeats kudos” award…here you go

Crazy T-shirt: It’s a toss up this week. “Beer—the only Carbohydrates I need”, spotted in Lulimba… “10 reasons why Cowboys make better lovers”, too dirty to quote, but what would you expect from a Calgary stampede t-shirt vendor?...and in Bujumbura, I spotted a shocking front/back ensemble: “make 7(front) Up your’s (back)”

Soundtrack: Sarah Harmer has one my heart once again, “go to sleep” has put me out time and again this week, a sweet melody…and CBC3 podcast, check it out.

Kudos—indeed, I have to applaud the ambition of the of my neighbors, the residents of the marshy district down by the ruzizi river. This week, they got together, formed an NGO, and drafted a letter requesting urgent assistance from my department. The problem, this district is particularly given to being flooded, um, pretty much after every rain…its always mucky, lots of mosquitos. Their proposition, that we dig a giant hole, or a canal, big enough to drain the marsh…proposed dimensions: 12km by 4m…yup, that’s 12 kilometres, apparently almost half the length of the suez canal! Unfortunately, I don’t think its going to work out, but kudos to them for trying.

Alright, are you still with me? What a week…It all started with a quick tour of the deep south, to check in on the cholera treatment centre at Uvira, and then head off to lulimba to assess a cholera outbreak on the edge of the province. Round trip, I think we covered about 500km, and came across some wild terrain! A forest filled with giant clay mushrooms (ant hills?), fields of 15foot elephant grass, nearly 50km of burned out forest—super eery, actually, the tree tops were still green, white trunks, constrast against the burned underbrush—and every village on the way was full of bricks laid out to dry. In fact, at regular intervals, there where new/old settlements of retournees from Tanzania—a very encouraging sight!
Stopped off in Baraka to stage the trip to lulimba…I noticed that there were an heaps of non-uniformed, armed young men roaming about town—an unusual sight these days as most militias have been integrated into the conventional forces and shipped to other parts of the country. Yeah, and when they started to yell at me and the driver, I sorted of, maybe, kind of had some words of my own…note—don’t tell off adolescents with guns or rockets…right, nothing happened, we drove through unmolested, but when I asked my hosts what it was all about, they were pretty alarmed…and then, bbbbbrrraaaahhhh, tactactactac. These guys started fighting with the police! Unbelievable, turns out that it was the militia of a local hold out, essentially the local thug. The customs office tried to charge one of his buddies import duties, things escalated, and the guy’s boys went around shooting the place up.
Strange huh, so the next day we were off to lulimba, saw returnees, the forests, etc, did our evaluation, visited the most atrocious cholera treatment centre I’ve seen yet…I washed my hands diligently, but opted to take a prophylactic dose of doxycycline just to make sure I didn’t infect myself with cholera. Saw a giant forest fire on the way home, apparently hunters thought it best to track their quarry by burning down the forest. So back home, we’ve been preparing for a visit from Jan Egeland (#2in the UN), and one of my colleagues had been so accommodating to one of my teams staying at her field camp…took her out for a beer to show my appreciation, and wouldn’t you know it, something happened between the restaurant and my place…a riot? A demonstration? Well, something happened and apparently people were freaking out in the street, 2 soldiers may have been killed by a mob, but apparently they had been stealing from the community for weeks? Well, whatever was going on, all I know was that when I radioed for a car to take me home, everyone panicked, realizing that someone was circulating during this crisis…yes, and to the glee of my colleagues at the restaurant who immediately began mocking me, the Emergency Response Manager was swiftly evacuated to safety, extracted from amongst my friends by the super-police mobile crisis squad!
Moving on, yesterday we rode to Luhago with an inter-agency preparation team for the Egeland visit…we’ll be showing him around the IDPs settlements in the valley (remember the pictures?) Well, my team was already there, so I hitched a ride with the World Food Programme truck, which was skillfully driven by a city-guy from Kinshasa. Well, on the way home, crossing a very sturdy bridge, he somehow managed to drive into the only hole in the structure, effectively dropping the front wheel into the abyss, resting the axle on the bridge surface.
There you go, my wacky week, and in the midst of it all, I caught malaria. Good times.

Stay safe,
C
(captions—chikuru and the smurf…the bridge the wfp guy didn’t attempt…a tree and what’s left of the forest in the back ground. Enjoy)

How much for a life? Shocking Facts and Figures

2006-08-27T07:01:00.000-07:00

Ever try to fix a dollar figure to life? Here's a few figures I've come across this week...

$3,000,000,000--amount awarded to some guy in california who claims that he was tricked into smoking (has terminal lung cancer)

400 camels ($1,600?)--Blood money claimed for accidental death, Saharan Africa.

$100--Ransom demanded for safe return of family member abducted by men in uniform, Luhago. Note: the price goes up $400 if the individual is known to be associated with an ngo.

Nauseating, isn't it?

C

New posts, wild pictures...what could possibly be next?

2006-08-20T06:23:00.000-07:00

Hey, this guy’s trying to kiss me!

Right, so I haven’t written in some time, and as penance, I’ve published a number of entries at once, so be sure to scroll down a bit, see if anything catches your eye…

Ah, is anyone going to be in Djibouti or Ethiopia between the 8th and the 18th of September? Let me know, I’m heading out for a little break…

Sheikh Djibouti

My very first cholera epidemic

2006-08-20T06:16:00.000-07:00

This week’s adventure…Cholera epidemic response, Uvira town. I got word that there was an epidemic evolving in Uvira, way down south on Lake Tanganyika, and last weekend, it was official, there was an outbreak of Cholera in Uvira, and the RRM team was sent into action…So piled into the jeep, cut through Rwanda to save some time, and rolled into the Uvira hospital to assess the situation. For those of you who are not familiar with Cholera, its diarrheic disease caused by bacteria (I think), and very closely linked to water quality. You get it, you get the runs, that about sums it up, except perhaps the scale of the affectation—severe cases can lose up to 20ltr of water a day. So try to picture it, an enclosure, with a building at the centre full of beds with a single hole in the middle—everything made of tarp. Quarantine procedures require everyone to constantly step in and out of chlorinated foot washing stations to prevent any would be carriers from taken infected faeces out side (its very very opportunistic disease). So we arrived to get the figures, assess the state of the centre, etc, and wound up sidestepping faeces…there were so many patients, that the centre had run out of space and had people receving treatment outside, under the sun—unbelievable! Squalor and shit. To the credit of the hosipital, this outbreak had caught them by surprise as cholera is endemic in the area and this particular situation was at least a month early. In fact, they are about a month away from completing a brand new (gorgeous) Cholera treatment centre right next door to the one in question.
So what to do? We built another observation hall, rebuilt the wall to keep pedestrians and chickens away from contamination, and coordinated with the other stakeholders to implement a water chlorination and hygiene promotion programme in the neighborhoods worst affected by the outbreak.
Great, and my team did a fantastic job…the observation hall is decked out in shining grey unicef tarp, and they installed a 5000litre bladder, complete with a little hanger. But what would a blog entry be without a bit of humour, or irony or something? So how would you suggest filling a 5000litre bladder with water? You would think one might hire a tanker truck for the job. Correct, but for some reason this did not happen. A truck was in fact hired, but there was no tank. Instead, a 10,000litre bladder was hauled on to the back of a normal truck, and it was carted off to the Pakistani Peacekeeping battalion logistics’ yard for a filling. The Pakistanis were a little startled, but agreed to supply some water, but only let the driver into the compound (nice). So ten tones of water were pumped into this second bladder on the back of the truck, and somehow, it wound up punctured, at which point—again, try to picture this—10,000 litres of water blew out of the bladder mounted on the back of this truck, and proceeded to erode the foundation of the giant water tank mounted in the air…
Alright, the tank didn’t collapse, no one died, but suffice it to say, I was a little perturbed to hear that this had happened. And in the end, we were able to convince the PakBat to swing by the hospital and fill the bladder.
Weird, huh…and to top it all off, I went half blind for about 15 minutes and lost feeling in my tongue…apparently it’s a dehydration thing, so to all of you languishing in the stuffy Vancouver heat, be sure to drink lots of water, or you might go blind…
Amani cabissa
C

Real Evidence: crazy T-Shirts

2006-08-19T08:31:00.000-07:00

Regarding those wacky shirts, here are a few Gems.

The Toronto Maple leafs
The Canadian Snowbirds
A beautiful elder, I caught, peeking through a window
and some guy who claims he survived an "extreme home makeover" which is deeply ironic given that he's had to trade his home for a plastic bag in a banana grove...
(For all those sontagians, rest assured that all subjects were remunerated for their services)
ah and the sound track for the week, my driver is really into canadian indy rock so we've been bumping to In Medias Res (way to go ashley poon), the winter sleep (halifax), and Sarha Harmer's sweet lulabies, mixed with a little bit of Tegan and Sarah, my team's favorite lesbian rock band!
Happy saturday
C

How to get out of bed...

2006-08-19T08:27:00.000-07:00

Politics, diplomacy, coordination, advocacy, inaction, obstruction, failure…
Yeah, in the humanitarian community, many of us wrestle with cynicism…
In a cholera outbreak, I saw people laying in their own filth at the Cholera treatment centre...there were tarps, there on site, and no one put them up, no one moved to bring shelter to those suffering, hudled against the (tarp) wall of the centre to escape the sun. Brutal, I couldn’t believe it. Cyniscism, yeah, it gets to you, at you, its brutal how it can creep up. There were children there too. Unbelievable.
But seeing children get a hand up and out of desperation, now that’s something that get’s me up in the morning, something worth fighting for…

Each of these children have a name (most I've forgotten) but they helped me pull it together last week...keep a bit of perspective
C

hey, is that a white guy coming up the mountain?

2006-08-19T08:24:00.000-07:00

Hey, I mentioned the story of Luhago over a month ago but I don’t recall letting you know how it all passed…Well, after the initial assessment mission, it was decided to deliver emergency relief kits to the 1,512 families who fled to the area, and protect/rehabilitate 6/2 water sources to ensure there was enough water and sufficient water points for the entire community. Hardly flawless, but the work went off well, and the water points are gorgeous. I took follow-up trip two weeks ago, make survey to make sure everything was in order…unbelievable, stunningly beautiful(there’s that phrase again). The place is pushed up against the southern flank of Kahuzi biega park (remember the fiasco in Bunyakiri?)—hence the security issues—rolling mountain-hills. Me and my team mate dr tierry decided that we would touch each population group that received assistance—7 groups spread through the valley. That was the goal, and we accomplished it, though it was punishingly difficult. When we had decided on the intervention, or the follow up goal of visiting every community, I had realized just how far flung these sites had been, nor the topography of the valley. I think we covered 15km tops on foot, but it took all afternoon and the following morning. Up and Down, and back up again, then across a ridge, then down and up, and oh, there’s a short cut, and so on…I was in over my head! Or my bum leg, rather! But we pulled it off. We were applauded by crowds of beneficiaries, apparently I was the first honky in the hills in over 50 years…applause of appreciation for the assistance, or some cynical sarcastic applause for the white guy who actually came to pay them and their families a visit? Not sure, but the children were intrigued, we sang and danced our way down to every water point. Not sure what will happen to these people, I suspect that they are being terrorized by thugs, ex-militia men who’re camped out in the forest, extorting the locals. So on the back end of an intervention, my job turns to advocacy, see if it isn’t possible to leverage other actors to step into the gap. In this instance, it’s a question of getting pressure on the DRC army to station more troops there, try and secure the area against further incursions. Helas, this not an area high on their priority list—Gen. Nkunda, a dissident from a little further north, just declared his new republic of the volcanos, squarely within Congo territory…and tomorrow, there will be the announcement of the election results. Too some, this is far more important than the people leaving under plastic bags on the hills of luhago.
Enjoy the pictures, of Luhago.
C

Yeah, who wants to live in Dubai?

2006-08-02T23:53:00.000-07:00

So, Dubai, simulacra…Sheikh Zeyed Road, lined with some of the most amazing skyscrapers ever built(all in the last 10 years or so), manhattan on the edge of the persian gulf. Yet, 100 metres to either side of this spectacular street, your spot in the middle of a wasteland, not even that gorgeous empty desert, dunes drawn out to the horizon, but flat dusty waste (old sea bottom?) Its flat, fabricated, so artificial, but still pretty cool…a giant free trade zone, malls like you’ve never imagined, and a culture that’s all but disappeared (where are the bedoins, the camels, the tents? See “syriana” with george clooney) I’ve been to dubai a few times now, but I don’t recall having ever met a citizen of the emirate…Bangladeshis, Lebanese, Jordanian taxi drivers, southeast asian waitresses, but never a national of the UAE. It’s a strange thought, really, that one could visit a country and not once have an interaction with someone from that country…I even went for a drive in the desert, up and down the dunes, supper under the stars at a ‘real’ bedoin camp, a ‘real’ tourist extravaganza, and not one emerati! That said, I’ve seen them, mingled at the mall, seen them at a distance cutting fresh tracks at the indoor ski-slope (and it is no small thing, this ski slope in the desert!) Flowing white jalabyas, that constant fidgeting, adjusting the kaffya, ladies in black, head to toe…As much as it is touted as a great place to live, its 43c at night, the malls are still malls, and for the most part, it’s a desert wasteland. I’d much rather live in the jungle.

But helas, we were there on business…8-5, in the conference room, learining about every department in the unit…how to do field finances in an emergency deployment, rule of law and the protection department, sexual violence in humanitarian crises, the importance of having a will and a ‘proof of life’ question in case of abduction…yeah, grandma, its pretty important. But to be in a room full of some of the most experienced relief workers around—many of whom I worked alongside in Darfur…what a priviledge. And while we were meeting, the unit was also preparing to deploy to Lebanon—what a terrible trajedy. So, I’m still pretty new to this business of humanitarian relief, but I have to say that I felt a part of the community that makes up this team…less experienced, to be sure, but to be there together, to hear of their experience, and share my own, I realized just how significant/valuable my little bit of experience happens to be—I wasn’t silent, I had thoughts and experiences and questions to contribute to the different workshops. I think I’ve found my dream job! I was so impressed by the creativity and leadership brought to bear on the development of this Emergency response unit. Most of the members were young in their careers—late20s to mid-30s—and they weren’t simply functioning as an office in a box, ready to be shipped to whatever disaster…they rove through other country programmes and develop the internal capacity of the agency as well…very cool! Right, keep it brief, two shots for y’all:
1.Dr.Carmen at the gold souk
2. mystery location—hint:one could be excuse for thinking it was a pyjama shop…note the gender composition of the persons in the frame!
3. lovely ladies—Carmen, Jen, Melissa (can you guess which one loves George Clooney?)
Peace,
C

Bukavu to Dubai and Back, this month’s misadventures…

2006-08-01T03:21:00.000-07:00

So, this month has been pretty quiet, not much for the Rapid Response Team to respond to (though for some reason, what we managed to accomplish we did at an alarmingly slow pace) But I did get to flex my tough manager muscles, I fired or failed to ‘rehire’ the protection officer for a general lack of competence, handed out ‘demands d’explications’ to logistics for their inability to find and load trucks in any less than 3 days for an emergency intervention that’s suppose to be complete in 72hours…and though we are still locked down for the election (which would appear to have gone off relatively well), I’m making plans to dismiss those who escaped the initial purge, by the end of next month, my rapid response unit will be the most amazing, the most competent, and the most expeditious of all the emergency response units in Central Africa!
Alright, maybe its too lofty a goal, but in all seriousness, I’m not sure how most of my team made it to an interview, let alone to the status of ‘permanent employee’, and I have no apologies for being so tough, as a team, we are responsible for getting emergency assistance to those in desperate need as quickly as possible…medivac victims of rape, airdrop relief supplies, giant water bladders, we’re the front end of the humanitarian response in this province, and yet, the environmental health officer can’t get a latrine dug in a timely manner, and the logistics’ department can’t find the trucks needed to ship supplies, even at 3x the market price!
So I’ve been cleaning house, and yes I’m going to fire more people and stack my department with the best staff I can find…the best.

Alright, so maybe I’m being to hard everyone, overreacting, a little stressed out…sure, its possible and most likely true—its amazing how this place, or Darfur, or any other complex humanitarian emergency can run you down. But consider the following example of the Log’s departments uncanny ability to obstruct accomplishment. I was invited to participate in the IRC’s Emergency Response Unit’s annual conference which was held in Dubai. The task: get Christopher a plane ticket, Kigali to Dubai and back. Easy peezy, right? Well I suspected that something would happen, some unforeseen complication, so I involved myself in the whole process, chased the purchase request through every department involved, I even worked with the Rwanda office to make sure the right itinerary was booked. So the day came to leave, I packed up my stuff, sent off the final emails, hopped in the car and made off for Rwanda. So, we drove past the iridescent tea fields on the edge of the rain forest, up and down, mountain roads, through the Nyageze(sic?) park, monkeys on the road, monkeys in my stomach, stunningly beautiful, and then, a call on the radio—Zulu romeo onze, zulu romeo onze….(that’s me) (static) and then something about authorizing a purchase…stop the car, what needs to be purchased and why would I need to be involved in this? (static) **500$...what, 500$? (something is terribly wrong) no, I’ve misunderstood, 1500$, what, you want me to authorize 1500 bucks so you can purchase my plane ticket? Didn’t we buy it last week—I’m sure I’m going to be sick, and my mind is racing to figure out who’s going to be fired for this, and no I don’t authorize the purchase…I need to be in Dubai in 2 days time, its Friday afternoon, we’re 4 hours from Kigali, and I’m not sure the travel agent will be open when we finally get into town…generally, I find travel somewhat stressful, but this was over the top! Eventually it worked out, I booked a new ticket that evening, but I found out that somehow, the logs department managed to cancel my booking, and it was a miracle that there were any seats left at all.
Lesson of the Day—make your own travel bookings.

Elections, hibernation, and good behaviour

2006-07-29T03:35:00.000-07:00

Alright, this weekend, DRC's first election in 40 years is about to take place...huge implications, huge possibilities, could truly mark the end of an era of untold violence and chaos and tragedy for this country. Bukavu is crawling with journalists, and if you're especially skilled at surfing the web you may find some articles on my programme (a polish weekly, the new york post, and maybe the herald)--vultures! Check it out, read up, this is Congo's weekend in the media.
As for me, I've just returned from Dubai, heaps of stories and pictures from the last month, and since we'll be locked in our residence over the weekend (no one is entirely confident that something studpid wont happen election day...) So keep your eyes peeled for some picture laden posts...if anyone know's how to do that fancy collage/zoom thing with photos, let me know.
Shirt of the week: "Desperately seeking a meaningful overnight relationship"--spotted on a pakistani gentleman, Carrefour, Dubai

Soundtrack of the week: rocking out to Wintersleep (dark and brooding, gets me through late afternoon report writing), K'naan (somali hip hop), Damien Marley--not sure what planet he's on but welcome to Jammrock is nice(k'naan is touring with him this summer)

Big Props: City of Dubai, for giving south asian construction labourers(may be too soft a term, but by definition, slaves don't receive pay, right?) the afternoon off during the months of July and August...maybe 50celcius really is too hot.
Pace
C

still fumbling with the pictures

2006-07-21T05:08:00.000-07:00

Tea, my action pants (which are still holding out, though with more than a few patches), Sarah Mosely doing some sort of action pose, and a close up of serious tea technology.

Personalities and Poses

2006-07-21T05:01:00.000-07:00

Zara, her fabulous sisters, sara, john henry, the logs dept, Ibrahim the sleeping guard...and Bongi. Enjoy, snapshots of from Nyala, south Darfur...C

attempted picture post

2006-07-09T06:53:00.000-07:00

Pub Golf...3 teams...9 'holes"...par 1 beer/3 sips
my team lost. Thanks Brian, who would've thought Food for the Hungry would be such lightweights!

And the kitchen sink?

2006-07-09T04:54:00.000-07:00

Came into work saturday...for a mock evacuation exercise! Wild, slightly less than unexpected, and the wacky scenario twists, well, that truck over there in the corner, it and all its occupants are actually 'in' bunyakiri...what are you going to do?
Well, I was one of those individuals caught in the field, far from the office, unable to get home...what am I going to do? pray that my 2 tanks of gas(landcruisers have two) can get me to kinsangani? Look for the nearest pakistani battalion and sit tight (hopefully with spicy tea?) well, fortunately it wasn't the real thing, and I was free to roam about the office compound, observing the precedings.
People piling into vehicles, important documents being secured, logistics staff running every which way...and a few enthusisastic fundies trying to 'save' a giant photocopier...can you picture the scene...we've minutes to get into the vehicles, sort everything out, and here comes mfude and Ngungu with some department's photocpier!
Hilarious.

On a sadder note, to follow up on the bunyakiri fiasco...the team and I went to verify the beneficiary list, make sure that they truly represented those who had been displaced by 'negative forces' in the forest...The civic authorities gave us a summary list of beneficiaries--ca8400households(x5=individuals)...1400 of which were returnees from some other outbreak of violence--some as from as much as 4 years ago. So we were expecting to verify lists totaling about 7000HH...we showed up at the civil authorities office, and were promptly handed lists totaling 11,474 households or 57,370 individuals or 688,440$ in Non-food item kits...besides the fact that the presence of an extra 60K people would have been immediately evident in this little clearing in the jungle(the area in question compromised of 7 villages over a 30+km stretch of road)...some of the lists didn't represent the IDP community at all...a couple random samples produced 0% representation of IDPs on the list of beneficiaries...not a single individual identified as an IDP was actually present on those lists....I couldn't believe it. And the worst part? Because of the persistent fraudulent behaviour of the community leaders in the effort to truly identify those who have been forced to flee their homes, we wont be able to assist those who really need help.
And so it goes. This week, off to luhago...1400hh fled the forest, living under trees, in cassava fields, on the sides of the hills...humantiarian committees have been set up, lists have be compile, and they've checked out, see what we can get done this week.
Pace e tranquillo
C

President Kabila's toothless Fu-Manchu

2006-07-05T10:08:00.000-07:00

So election campaiging has begun...gleeming portraits in the streets, maybe just a tad bit photo--shoped (one candidate's teeth are whiter than white)...just like home, there's propaganda on every telephone pole, every car bumper, boulevard, and house gate...and just like home, vandals have already busied themselves defacing whatever than can!

Pretty exciting, pretty noisy...hoping to start a new t-shirt collection(unfortunately the RCD only has umbrellas emblazoned with their logo/motto

Soundtrack for the week: been rocking out to 'the Weakerthans' and 'Jonathon Inc.'

T-shirt slogan of the week: aside from the standard surrey terry fox run t-shirts, most amzing one this week courtesy of the IMC guard in Bunyakiri...
"Works like a Bugger, eh?"--scandalous, but oh so appropriate for Canada day
Yes, happy Canada Day.
Pace e tranquillo
C.
(still trying to figure out this piicture thing, thanks for the patience)

Gorillas and monkey business

2006-06-25T05:47:00.000-07:00

June 25, 2006

Can I tell you of my week? I’ve had quite the adventure and if it weren’t for my lack of IT-savvy, I’d let my pictures tell the stories. Aside from trying to figure out how to set up a ‘out of office’ message on my email client, I’ve spent most of the last week or so in the field, edging around the mountainsides of the escarpment leading down lake Tanganyika and racing along the paved(!) road up into kangya beizi[sic] national park…Spectacular! Bamboo forests, mahogany forests, rain forests, grasslands, highlands, lowlands, and two great lakes(and they truly are huge)
Late last week I went to Uvira—on the edge of lake T.—to check out how my team goes about a Non-food item distribution…Torrential rains had washed a number of houses into the lake, leaving a sizable population without shelter, etc, and as the Rapid Response Mechanism(my office) is charged with responding to just such crises, the team intervened…I went to see the actually distribution, see how they get it done, and well, to say the least, it gave me lots of material for the following Monday morning meeting…at the end of the day, ot took 2 days to do the distribution—how long should it take to hand out 700 bags of NFIs?—and part of the team was trapped in the city’s admin building by a frustrated crowd of less-needy people who wanted the left over kits.
After the Monday meeting, we moved on to Bunyakiri to (re)register families displaced by military activities in the area. The first time around, once the team had hit the 10,000 household mark and realized that the local authorities had falsified the beneficiary lists, the int’l community got involved and threatened to cancel the whole operation if the leaders failed to follow the criteria for eligibility(people displaced 7 years ago don’t count, when the kits are destined for those who have fled in the last 3 months) and allow us to work. So we went to do it again, verify the new lists and plan out how we’d pursue the work as it was quite removed from Bukavu, up in the mountains, through the park which is full of gorillas and guerillas(who have a nasty habit of pillaging folk after distributions). Up into the mountains, on a mostly paved road(an unbelievable artifact and testimony to what Congo has lost and what it can become)…it was also the day a former Mai Mai child soldier turned gov’t General came home for a visit after ten years in orientale province…suffice it to say, I had ample time to enjoy the view….monkeys on the road, monkeys with blue bottoms, a flying squirrel, and apparently, though I didn’t see him, there’s a mean one armed giant monkey that lives on the road and takes food from people…apparently some soldiers chopped off his arm and now he’s really aggressive (who would’ve thought?)
So we made it to bunyakiri and got to work right away, checking in with the same civil administrators and the local peacekeeping outfit(monuc)…well, I’m not sure what will come of this situation. At the end of the day, we had collected lists claming to represent 11,500 households displaced in the last 3 months, and our verification didn’t support the number and I wound up with observations enough for another ‘Monday meeting’—anyone looking for a job? I have a mind to dismiss everyone!—But it was a wild trip to the field, a wild introduction to the scope of this work, the very real challenges facing congo on eve of their first legitimate election since independence(there’s been a number of ‘elections’ however)…
Some random vignettes: I saw a baby Gorilla and leopard, orphans but ‘saved’ by some guy who thinks his doing them a favour keeping them captive in his house until a better home/price can be found for them. I was given some coltan tailings by a little girl under a tree. I saw a green snake, and then I saw it killed by a bunch of frightened grown men! I saw the lights of Emmanuel N.’s city across the lake. It get cold at the equator.

(Anyone know the best way to get photos into blogs?)

Lagging and Wading (through to the heart of darkness?)

2006-06-13T08:44:00.000-07:00

So how many people can say they’ve crossed the Greenwich meridian and the equateur (twice) on a single out-bound flight? I’ve just arrived in Bukavu—the single most beautiful place in Africa (seriously, I’ll post some pictures)—after the most grueling flight of my life… Vancouver to heathrow to Jo’burgh to Kinshasa to Kananga to Bukavu…sort of round about, but the country office wanted to run me through an orientation before heading out to paradise. I made it through the Kinshasa airport unmolested, however, and jumped straight into things. For those of you who don’t know, I’ve just been hired by the International Rescue Committee to manage their emergency response programme in South Kivu. Based in Bukavu, I’ll be coordinating the Rapid Response mechanism across the entire province…pretty big, pretty daunting

more when I’ve finished reading the 600 pages of orientation documents
(hey has anyone seen the Georgia Straight article? Any good? I haven’t seen it, but my boss has…says we need to talk about ‘Media Policy’…)

To all those nimble-fingered veterans

2006-05-29T18:00:00.000-07:00

Well, my first post. I've just been hired by the IRC to manage their emergency response unit in South Kivu, Democratic Republic of Congo, and thought that maybe it was time to spare everyone the agony of well-intentioned, but ever so impersonal mass emails...a blog. Hope it works.
Bear with me
C.