She says….a heart struggle of living here.

*Just a warning that this blog isn’t funny. I’m not falling apart, just struggling with some life issues and keen to share with you, our readers. I’ll follow up with a lighter-hearted one soon :)

Every few weeks I go through a time of noticing my personal wealth and privilege, especially when living in this part of the world. I feeling disturbed by what I deem to be the injustice of me being raised and educated where and how I was, while the girl next door was raised in poverty, fled violence, had no chance to learn about anything other than what she could see, is the mother of 3 kids at 24, illiterate and unemployed, and sees no opportunity for change. Something triggers my thoughts again, I ponder it for a while, maybe discuss it with a friend or two, talk with and read the big man’s words, and then carry on with life, sometimes with a small change in my behaviour. Until the next time my heart lurches and begins grieving again.

Recently, I’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed by it and I reach out here, seeking your support, advice, admonishment, wisdom and whatever comes. We live in a country that is suffering deeply from poverty, oppression, extreme weather, isolation and violence.  Living in a major city (without permission to leave the city), I’m mostly protected from seeing the violence and oppression, but like anyone, I see the news, read books, listen to those who travel to other areas and speak with local friends about it.

I’m always challenged by beggars on the streets. Mothers with young babies, or dirty, half-dressed children who look hungry, seem to suck my heart strings right through the window of the car. The man with no legs who crawls onto the 50 degree road to tap on the car door while I’m waiting at an intersection in my air-conditioned car, with my husband and well-fed puppy. I made a decision a long time ago to not give money to beggars, primarily because I don’t believe it offers any lasting aid or improvement, often because I doubt the money would be used for food, and also because many of the beggars (here) are professional and 'managed' by others. I struggle with my decision when I see people who are obviously limited in their capacity, or even incapable of earning an income, especially in a country where there is no form of welfare and so many widows.  I try to remember to carry food with me, muesli bars and the like to give, but I only remember some of the time. The rest of the time I smile and say sorry, pretend to not see them, quickly pray for them, tell the kids they should be in bed or at school (you’d be amazed at the 8yo kids who wander intersections at 10am during school days or 10pm at night), knot up inside and feel upset.

This week, I was caught by surprise by Him with a new issue.  We have been preparing to go away for a long weekend in Dubai for our wedding anniversary.  We decided to offer a small financial gift to some of His staff to stay at our home and care for Rhodes while we are away. After they kindly agreed, He came to me to ask how we could expect them to feed the dog fresh meat three times a day when the couple can likely only afford to eat meat at home, at most, occasionally. I’ve rarely, if ever, cried with grief over poverty or such issues, but this one knocked me off the ground. This couple is employed by us, earning one of the lowest, but still a reasonable salary for locals (horrifyingly low by our standards), but like many people here, struggling to survive, let alone thrive.  It's a reasonable diet for dogs where we come from,  but how on earth can we justify it here? I don't believe that having a pet is harmful to the millions in poverty….but, what to do, or say?

This dog food drama came on the same day that I had the following comment from a local friend who is a new medical graduate; "I work at a Cardiopulmonary hospital. If someone has a cardiac arrest, we don't try to resuscitate them, they just die. Someone might possibly try a very ineffective, poor technique CPR. The Defibs are usually broken. The likelihood of a cardiac arrest victim surviving is so minimal, of surviving with a quality of life even less, and the family being able to afford ongoing care requirements, next to nothing.” What a place we live. What a world we live in that accepts such inequality, albeit with many attempting to fight and change it. I want to run into that hospital and teach them CPR, pay for the Defibs to be fixed, teach them about rehabilitation, share the love the big man has shown for us and why we should value life etc., but none of that would help the situation, improve or change the fatalistic view of their deity’s will, cause the authorities to provide more money for healthcare. That doesn’t mean I should do nothing. Sure, a little part of me wants to save the world! What if I can save one person? I could perform CPR on someone that consequently leads to his family’s worsening poverty as they are unable to ever pay the medical bills (of course, I could also perform CPR on someone who goes on to do wonderful things with his/her life, but the probability of this happening here is a lot smaller…..but should that affect the decision at all?).  I could speak out about the lack of healthcare funding and get ‘asked' to leave the country, drawing Him from his job and the help He is providing for so many. The only thing I’m sure of is that I will keep talking to my friend about bioethical issues as she ‘finds her feet’ as a Dr, with both of us raising points from our own worldview.

I haven’t decided what to do about the dog food (we can buy regular dry dog food here but it’s actually more expensive than the meat we feed him, which to give you an idea, costs about AUD1-1.50 a meal). I know the family caring for Rhodes would never say anything to us about it, but I actually feel sick about it. I have no conclusion to draw. I still have a big knot in my stomach but I don’t want to feel peace about it. I want to do something, I just don’t know what. Whenever I’ve been in that situation in the past, I’ve stopped and spent time with the big man, and that’s what I should do….but I’m even struggling to do that at the moment.

He says....Turning the corner.

It must be time for a new blog entry.

Since we last wrote, we went on holiday to Zimbabwe. It was fantastic. So fantastic that we nearly decided to miss our flights home. So fantastic that we are planning on showing the Jesus movie on our roof (using the projector from work and some loud speakers) every night to co-incide with the call to prayer.

We had a great time in Harare catching up with old friends, eating bacon, drinking South African red wine, buying appliances (cue Hot Club Sandwich) and eating bacon.

We spent the second week in the Eastern Highlands with some good friends at a cottage called Loudwaters. No internet, limited cellphone network and lots of peace and quiet. The only noise, as the name suggests, is the steady, calming sound of the stream that flows next to the house ( with some cameot preformances by one Peter Raymond Simpson).

During the week we managed the odd outing to Troutbeck, Lepoard Rock and the obligatory visit to Tony's for coffee and cake. Otherwise, we spent most of our time  migrating between the verandah and the fireplace depending on the very changeable weather. It was a  week of great company, good conversation, amazing food and plenty of bacon. What else could we have asked for?

Thank you Jono, Kath and Peter (and Kath's grandparents) for being such generous hosts. We really enjoyed our time with you.

On my last night in Harare, our friends (David, Andrea and Lawrance Whatman) organised a 'blessing and braai' at their home so that my good mate Farayi could get a chance to give his long overdue wedding speech. It was a wonderful night  and we were both humbled by the friendship and support of our Zimbabwean friends. If the Jesus movie thingo goes to plan, we might see you soon?

With a heavy heart, a humidifer and a Singer sewing machine (you can find them for $180 near Shinda Corner on Harare Street) 'he' headed back to the mine in Siberia. In the words of the seven financially indebited dwarfs, I owe, I owe, so often to work I go....

The most important purchase in Harare was that of our three month old golden cockerspaniel. He has a slightly politically incorrect name (Rhodes) for a Zimbabwean dog but we promise you he's very cute. If you're even remotely connected to the internet you'll see that 'he' and 'she' have both been busy turning Facebook into 'Doggybook'. Given we have endured most of you turning Facebook into 'babybook' we thought you too would want to see endless photos of our adorable and highly talented little guy...

I told you our boy is highly talented. Rhodes can piddle and diddle in four different places on the floor before you've had time to even locate the paper towel and the bucket. It also turns out that he may be a vegetarian. Much to our consternation, he refuses to eat either chicken or tuna. So much for the raw diet we had designed for him. Rhodes obviously didn't get the memo. He is more into kibble.

For two middle-aged individuals who like their Friday and Saturday morning sleep ins, having to take Rhodes outside at 6:30am each day for a spot of fetch, and the obligatory piddle and diddle session, has not been very much to our liking. By this morning 'he' was ready to put an ad on the local Facebook page for a cute little puppy with a serious attitude and a loose bowel.... Thankfully 'she' is a little more patient than 'he'.

Our landing back in Siberia has been smoother than that of Ethiopian airlines ( their pilots mostly come from the airforce where they don't do finesse). 'He' is busy with work and chasing after the endless piles of piddle and diddle.

'She' has done more than her fair share of the parenting and at the same time may have found herself some meaningful employment and some new friends. I'll let  'her' tell you more...

For both of us there is the shared optimism and feeling that perhaps we have turned the corner. What was once strange, new and exhausting has become more familiar. Perhaps this place, with its endless heat, dust and crazy drivers  is starting to feel a little like home.... Who knows? We might even delay the premier of the movie night a little bit longer....
 

She says.....Blackout, Sandstorm and GummyBear

Scene: 830pm, sandstorm raging outside, bedroom cinema lit by lamps, The Blacklist screening on the bedroom wall, she with craft in hand, he winding down from a busy week, grateful for an evening at home. 

Power black out. 

They redress and traipse down to flick the 15 different knobs to activate the generator...but notice on route that the building electricity is still on. 

Returning to apartment they discover their own electricity has run out. Frustration at each other simmers, for not noticing the meter was low. With flash-lit heads, they return to the bedroom to hunt down the spare power voucher. 20mins later, they have not found the safe place it had been stored. 

Emergency call to a friend revealed that they could purchase a voucher 24/7 from a company 10mins away. 

Attempt #1

Meter # recorded on paper, they redress appropriately, by flashlight, and brave the sandstorm. Feeling slightly happy that the power office is next to an icecream store, they began to consider the flavour options. On arrival at the office, after avoiding multiple collisions with vehicles, people and donkeys, she is asked for the meter #. Neither she, nor he had brought it. 

Storming out of the office, they return home by car, with decreasing visibility. Gate unlocked, two flights of stairs, empty water bottles grabbed for exchange, meter # obtained, they depart once again for the power office.

Attempt #2 

On arrival at the office, all vehicles, animals and people intact, she joins the queue with the other 20 people purchasing power in a sandstorm on the last night of the working week(!). The attendant informs her that the meter # is a digit short. She begs said-attendant to try all other numbers before and after but the attendant refuses. She storms out to the car, she makes him return to a different counter to try another number. The attendant is suitably helpful, but to avail. 

They return home in loud silence. Correct meter # recorded, they return to the car, wishing they were driving a tank to brave the sandstorm and traffic. 

Attempt #3

Following another loud, silent drive, she enters the office and stands politely in line behind a man being served. Enter woman (hereafter known as GummyBear) from her left, moving as rapidly as locals only do when driving, and moves in front of her. She exclaims (loudly) in Siberian that GummyBear, as lovely as she is, needs to wait her turn. Ignoring the advice, GummyBear pushes the man being served out of the way, shoved her iPhone, $ and meter # on the counter. The man being served collects his things and leaves. She repeats her indignant exclamation and the attendant agrees and ignores GummyBear. GummyBear is in front of the 10cm X 10cm window and the attendant can't hear her saying the meter #, so she asks GummyBear to move. GummyBear moves 1cm to the left and then shoves her with her hip! She yells again (politely) and GummyBear looks straight at her and grins a gummy, toothless smile. One of the few times in her life when she has wanted to slap a woman. She pushes GummyBear out of the window and re-submits the meter #. GummyBear immediately reclaims her territory. 

The attendant and his boss look suitably sympathetic, they yell at her through the barrier (because the window is stuffed full of GummyBear) and tell her she needs an extra 125 Siberian pounds to pay 5mths water rates too. Of course, she only has an extra 100 on her. 

Heavy footed stomping, holding back tears to the car, she requests more $ from him and tells him he'd best be prepared for violence in the office. As she turns around, the manager walks out of the building with the power and water tickets and thrusts them at her with an apology and instructions for how to enter the details. Trying to pay the remaining cost (approx AUD2), the manager insists it has been paid. 

On the third, loud, silent drive home, after conspicuously avoiding entering the icecream store, she sends her Mother an abbreviated version of the evening’s events. Mother suggests a glass of the precious red stuff that they have for an emergency occasion. She suggests she'd be more likely to whack the bottle over his head than drink it…..he says (in the light of a new day, in a powered-home), that would be a terrible waste of a good red.

She says...3 months and a numerical breakdown

He has written so eloquently, and honestly summarised our thoughts and emotional state at the end of our first 3 months in Siberia. We're happy to be here. We're still hopeful that we can have a positive impact in an incredibly difficult and frustrating place.

We're acclimatising, but I continue to be told often that we're so lucky that it hasn't been hot yet - in context, it has hit 44C and is usually 39-42C each day, and 30-35C overnight. #notlookingforwardtosummer 

Our apartment feels like home. 

We're making friends, slowly. I'm uncomfortable in the unemployed-expatriate-wife-but-not-a-mother role, partly because I haven't met another here yet, but I'm persevering with the stay-at-home-expatriate-wife-and-mother group. Everyone should meet for 3 hours a week to make craft to sell at an annual bazaar and raise money for charity!

We've learned that Siberian ants don't eat honey or sugar, but LOVE home-made bread. 

We sleep to the sound of a fan, an air conditioner, our mosquito net flapping and small geckos chirping with delight at being near our air conditioners. We awake to the prayer call sometimes, but more often to an unintelligible man screaming into a megaphone as he drives by trying to sell something from his cart at 6:30am.

We've learned to be careful to avoid including the bedroom air-conditioner-remote in the washing machine. 

We speak of 'kissing' in terms of cars, SUVs, trucks, motorbikes and rickshaws colliding when there are 8-10 possible routes at an intersection that would have only 3 in Australia. I might have heard Him mutter "so, you want to kiss ME?" to a rickshaw when driving.

We're growing a lot in our young marriage and He nailed it when talking of our shift from independence to interdependence being the most significant change. This has been particularly difficult for me with my fiercely independent and stubborn nature (yes, I can hear you snorting and giggling).

I've come to feel like everything changes regularly and little is permanent; I am so incredibly thankful for the Big Man's word and faithfulness which never changes. A little numerical breakdown demonstrates the difficulty I've been facing in coming to terms with the permanency of marriage and expecting to live somewhere for at least the next 3 years. 

In the past 5 years I have: 

• moved home 5 times between the Middle East, Siberia and Australia 
• lived with 3 families, 9 women, 3 men and 2 boys
• adopted 5 cats (1 since deceased, 4 now cared for by various people!)
• studied faith and language formally, relationships and faith informally
• been employed 6 times; Case Manager, English Teacher, Clinical Policy Reviewer, Research & Evaluation Analyst, International Health Coordinator
• been hospitalised 3 times, swallowed approximately 20,000 pills and received 50 injections
• welcomed 12 nieces/nephews to my world, with the 13th due in late May.
• grieved the loss of 3 dear grandparents

This week, I'll continue my Siberian lessons with my Nuclear Engineering/German-studying neighbour. I've only had one lesson so far and it was both depressing and encouraging....the grammar is mostly the same in the local dialect but vocabulary is incredibly different. I've learned 3 dialects previously and the vocab is different from all of these :S. Fortunately, locals understand me when I use other vocab, but I don't understand them....so perserveremustI.

I'll also work three days for the Dutch Consortium of Rehabilitation trying to draw an incredibly messy report into a readable and meaningful report, and prepare and interview for an almost dream job with the Federation of the Red Cross (on Tuesday for those who talk to the Big Man!). I'll make lots of bread in our wonderful bread maker, knit some and attend the craft group.

Now, if you've made it this far, congratulations. Write back to us! We miss you all and want to hear your news too - more than stalkbook updates and SMS (tho we appreciate those too!). Book in a Skype or FaceTime call with us - our weekend is Friday/Saturday which means we're nearly always available late afternoon/early evening your time on those days.

He says, "Three months in Siberia"

It's been a while since I last posted on this blog. The days have quickly merged into weeks and have become months. I wonder where the time has gone? 

Those who know me will know this is a common theme with my blogs. I start strongly but struggle to keep up the enthusiasm after a few posts. My mother would say it is a pattern. Life is full of such patterns, both pretty mosaics that we hang on our walls and those that we are less proud of. The key is to break the destructive patterns and to turn them into beautiful ones. If only it were that simple.

I digress...

It has been three months since we arrived in Siberia. I thought it would be good to give you the highlights, or in many cases the lowlights. If you're looking for good news and happy endings you might want to stop reading now and check your Facebook.

The situation out there has got worse. The number of people affected by conflict during the first three months of 2014 is estimated by the UN to be almost 250,000 people. This level of displacement is similar to that which caught the attention of the world's media ten years ago. However in 2014, there is no George Clooney and no world media headlines.

There is a clear trend that government is again using the armed militia to forcibly move the population into camps in order to free up natural resources and land for those tribal groups who have  either the right ethnic background or support the government.

Mum would say it is a pattern...

At the same time, the operational space for NGOs is non existent. We are being denied access to those who most need our help. Throw out any notions of impartiality, neutrality or any of those lovely documents written by Europeans in Geneva. They never made it the mail to Siberia. We work as an extension of government, we follow their rules and they control every aspect of our operations. Being pragmatic, the only reasons NGOs are still here is because there are donors who want to give us money. If you can't stomach that realty, the NGO world is not for you. The positive side of the donor / money equation is that we can actually help people, but I'd argue the impact of our interventions is limited because of the limitations placed on us by government.

Internally, my organisation is a bit like a dog's breakfast. There's mess everywhere.  I have spent most of the first three months extinguishing fires and trying to prevent new ones. I would like to tell you about all the impressive changes I have made to the organisation but, if I am honest, I think there has been very little progress.

However, every now and then I see something positive, like a colleague using a whiteboard to plan their work, or doing a work review with a subordinate and I smile. It makes me realise that people do watch how you work and that the best leadership is not done by words but by actions.  Still, the victories seem small compared to the challenges that lie ahead.

What about us?

Let's get back to my mother's mosaics. There are some old patterns re-appearing and some new ones being created.

I feel incredibly tired, both emotionally and physically. Maybe it is the constant heat or the ever increasing workload?  Probably a combination of the two. We went to a five-star hotel last weekend for a bit of a break. It was heavenly. But just one week later I feel exhausted again as does she. We are really looking forward to taking a break in Zimbabwe at the end of April.

I feel disconnected from family, friends and community. It is mostly my own doing. I simply don't have the emotional energy to try and explain everything that is happening to me, both internally and externally. Interactions on Skype, Viber and Facebook feel simplistic and stuck at surface level. I feel like our interactions have been reduced to the 140/160 characters of an SMS. How do I explain the situation here, or in a way that you can understand?

The hardest challenge has been the lack of a faith community. We don't have a faith community here and the connection with our faith community in Melbourne has been tenuous at best. We continue to be cautious in attending anything publicly here, because of the experiences of my predecessor and also our own issues that we faced earlier in the year.

Being married has seen the beginnings of a new pattern in my life, one of which I am very happy about. Our first year together has been a bit of learning curve, but one for which I am very grateful. She is a wonderful companion, friend and listener. We have both had to learn to lean on each other and to work together rather than trying to do things on our own. It's not easy when you've been single for the past 35 years!

'She' has had it much rougher than I. No job, lots of time on her hands and social restrictions that make it more difficult for her to be independent. I have seen her struggling to work through it and I have felt very powerless to do anything about it.

I fear that this entry has become rather negative. Perhaps I am just tired, or feeling particularly introspective tonight. I don't want to lose sight of the fact that our being here is a good thing, both personally and corporately.

I may feel stretched and pulled in every direction, but also see the personal growth that these experiences bring.

I know the skills and experiences that I have are needed by the organisation for which I work.

I know that despite all the difficulties we face as an organisation, that we can make a small difference in a larger situation that is beyond our knowing and control.

I know that our marriage is being built and strengthened by having to work together and to face issues which at times seem insurmountable or beyond our understanding.

I know that we are a piece of a much larger mosaic, a new pattern that is slowly being created, that will change everything, both now and in eternity.

She says...Thank you Habibi

My amazing, generous, loving husband brings me coffee in bed almost every single morning. That is all. 

She says.....pondering fasting and being thankful

I am very happy to report that I was granted permission to return to our home in Siberia and I'm writing this whilst listening to the, now familiar, hum of fans and air conditioners. It was an emotionally difficult time being away, partly due it being forced rather than by choice, partly because I was sick most of the time, and partly because He and I don't communicate particularly well when we're apart, despite our abundance of experience..... needless to say, I am very, very happy and grateful to be home. I did have some wonderful catch-ups with good friends in Amman and it was a funny back-to-front experience being in Jordan this time and finding it a paradise of provisions after the limited availability of items here in Siberia.

After such a break from writing the blog I feel as if I should write something funny to entertain our readers....but the thing that currently occupies my thoughts isn't funny at all, sorry! Today is the first day of Lent, a 40 day period (excluding Sundays for rest) of Xn preparation before Easter. Some of you will have seen my question on stalkbook, asking about the thought process behind your chosen sacrifice for Lent. I've been aware of many friends participating in Lent in some way, most of whom are not C'lic. Common activities that I've heard are giving up coffee, alcohol or chocolate for a month as a sacrifice, designed (I think) to draw one's attention towards the big man and the meaning of Easter, and remind us of the big man as our provider in every sense.

I've never participated in Lent, but I have fasted occasionally through the 40h famine, for personal time with the big man, and perhaps somewhat unusually, during the day through the Ramadan festival. The times that I've fasted have always been because I want to focus my prayer on something specific or seeking wisdom; fasting from food has given me a constant reminder (hunger) that I want to be praying, and dependent on the big man. When I've fasted during Ramadan, it's been for those same reasons and for reminding myself to focus my prayer on our cousins during this special season for them. I've also done it so that I have some common ground with those who are doing the same activity, who seem to be more open to discussions during the period, and are usually unaware that Xns are also called to fast in our holy book.

I want to confess that one of the side effects I've found when fasting during Ramadan has been frustration and intolerance of the few cousins who complain bitterly about their suffering during this period and do very little (if any) work during work hours which are reduced by law during the period anyway....a little hard to take when I'm fasting and working normal hours and at normal pace. It leads to the opposite attitude to that which I seek when fasting, not exactly conducive to quality prayer, nor more importantly, is it big-man honouring. I also confess that when I'm fasting on other occasions that whilst hunger does prompt me to pray and I have felt more certain about decisions I've prayed about at such times, my attitude is still pretty poor and my attention span is limited. I remember reading a great chapter in Richard Foster's "Celebration of Discipline" about fasting methods...must have a look at it again.

I saw a stalkbook post today recommending using the Lent period for beginning a new habit of recording 3 things each evening that one is grateful for in a notebook, and sharing one with friends for both encouragement and accountability. It's something that a good friend and I have done daily for the past few years via daily SMS in addition to sharing one thing we're praying about, although 2014 is demonstrating less commitment to our long-term habit! We started doing it during a period of time when one, possibly both, of us was really struggling with life and needed some big man-given perspective. It really, honestly worked. Over the years I've had many days where I have genuinely struggled to think of one thing that I'm grateful for (that is without resorting to things I could say on any day such as food, shelter, friends, the big man's son etc.), woeful I know. I've also been honest when I haven't prayed or felt like praying. Sometimes the prayers that I'm praying would be better named "things I'm ungrateful about", but it is all a part of an up and down emotional life, periods of constancy and periods of change....I'm comforted by the many different kinds of prayers found in the book and the confidence that gives me in coming to the big man, no matter how I'm feeling.

So, Lent. I'm going to re-read another book by the author I mentioned above called "Prayer". I'm going to take some time in our weekly 'meeting' to read and talk with Him about Easter, and I'm going to fast from food on that day and structure the day around times of prayer when I usually have my 3 meals. Please hold me accountable and ask how I've gone.

She says....Escaping Siberia

We've had a rather unexpected turn of events this week that has resulted in me arriving in Amman yesterday.

Late last week we were reliably informed that my exploration of work possibilities had been 'noticed' by people who could cause problems.  I think I was probably a little naive about how innocent it would look with me exploring work options before I had a formal offer, but it was complicated by an initial error with our visa applications that left me entering on a tourist visa. Some loose tongues have contributed too....so I have now ceased all contact with the previously mentioned group. I'm disappointed for them because they really need someone to help them....and they're doing great work in the field. I'm also quite relieved as I was already overwhelmed by the amount of work and energy that would be required. Great thanks to the big man for the timing of my departure being just right.

I'm staying with some Aussie friends in Amman. I'm really happy to see my friends here but I was enjoying our new home and beginning to feel 'settled', which has been a repetitive request of the big man over the last 2 years. I don't know how long I'll be here as we are awaiting the approval of a spouse visa for me, which may take a week or 3 (He is now officially approved to be there long-term, so we can now request the same for his wife).

It is cold, cold, cold here; -1C when I woke (albeit nice in the sun), and my warmest clothing is a thin cardigan, so one of today's tasks is to trawl a second-hand market for a coat. He complained of the cold this morning as it was 22 degrees when he woke :).  The family I'm staying with have two adorable little girls and their father happened to be traveling this week, which means it is culturally appropriate (as well as helpful!) for me to stay with Mum and the girls.

Another unexpected event this week was the receipt of an email from ICRC Geneva asking if I would be willing to discuss a staff health position. My hopes for it becoming a reality are very low as I expect that a) I'll need to be registered RN (which I am not these days), b) that they'll want me somewhere other than Siberia, and c) they may want a fluent Siberian speaker. But I'm excited by the email and will follow that I'm up while I'm here.

We'd really appreciate it if you could talk with the big man about the need for my visa to be provided quickly, and for the prevention of any ramifications from last weeks events for either of us. His new luxury is DSTV (South African satellite TV) at home so I'm quite confident he is keeping himself busy with cricket and winter Olympics!

He says, She says... Siberian Fashionistas and Hipsters

He says it would be fun to do a combined 'he says, she says'. We thought you might be interested to know more about the local fashions here in Siberia. I know by the end of this post my mother-in-law will be slipping on her stilettos and heading for the airport just in time to catch the local sales here in Siberia.

He says, safari suits are very much the style when it comes to office attire for men. The Channel Nine Commentary team seem to have had a big influence here in Siberia with beige, off white, cream, light brown, dark brown and the occasional light blue safari suit being all the rage.

She says, women tend to favour variety and bright, very bright colours. Most women dress in one of two styles 1) a loose sari-like floral gown that covers one from head to toe and 2) multiple layers of culturally indecent clothing that once combined, are considered decent.  The head covering is usually loosely wrapped, and frequently only covering the bun portion of the hair. I haven't seen many women without a scarf at all, but in areas where expats frequent, the scarves are often hung over the shoulders only. Occasionally I see a dress-style similar to the big sandpit, but I suspect they're not local women (unable to confirm through the postbox eyes-only slot).

He says, outside of work, men prefer to wear traditional clothing. They wear long, white robes that flow from shoulder to toe. Sometime they wear nothing underneath and other times the robes are accompanied by MC Hammer style white pants that are loose enough to fit two people inside. The men also wear a white cloth that is woven around their heads and looks similar to a turban. When wearing the traditional outfit, one wears open sandals whilst others prefer leather slip on shoes. Given the soaring temperatures, I would suggest that the traditional outfit is preferable to the safari suit. Wearing the traditional outfit to the office is an absolute no no and would probably lead to dismissal. One should not confuse work with activities outside of the office. I suspect it is a relic of the British colonial administration...

She says, it bothers me immensely that there is a considerable proportion of expatriate women who choose to ignore all cultural requirements and wear whatever feels comfortable i.e. short sleeves and short skirts. I don't know what they're thinking but the possibilities I can think of are 1) that they're not 'cousins' so they can wear what they like, 2) they're hot and refuse to submit to cultural requirements 3) it's a deliberate rebellion against living in a conservative society. I don't think any of those reasons are reasonable.  I have chosen not cover my hair here (I have not yet seen any expats who are 'family' do so), but I always wear at least 3/4 sleeves and full-length skirts or pants. It's not about agreeing with 'cousin' dress code....it's respect for the culture in which we are visitors.

He says, then there are the cool guys who have succumbed to the subversive western influence of jeans, accompanied by either a t-shirt or what is know in some parts of the world as a 'golf' shirt or what I would call a polo shirt. The cool guys are generally (and we know all generalizations are fraught with danger) either wealthier Siberians, those from neighboring countries to the east or the expatriates like myself. I have even seen my fair share of hipsters sporting their thick black rimmed 'Malcolm X' glasses with even the occasional checked shirt buttoned up right to the top.

 He says, that shorts are a no-go. They are for boys only. As such, I am limited to wearing them around the house. In discussions with other expatriates, we have debated the suitability of wearing theee-quarter length shorts which cover the knees. My Dutch colleagues wear them quite regularly without any hassles. So, if you're thinking about what to buy me for my birthday or Christmas, I prefer my three quarter shorts to be navy or light brown. Perhaps I could go all european and get some red ones? 

She says...I think I might have worked for the Transport Accident Commission

My office is a 20 minute drive from our home (and 'his' office) and this brings me to a harrowing issue that has me tossing and turning at night. Actually, that's the frequent, physical and psychedelic dreams I'm having on anti-malarials. He said it is like sleeping with a Jelly-Bean. I digress....

 

We have a small Getz, a double-cab pick-up and a large landcruiser at home that are used by all the foreigners after hours and to transport local staff during working hours, so I'm unable to drive or be driven to my workplace. 

The local public transport options include:

1. $$$$ a yellow taxi which resembles a 1980s Datsun Sunny with occasional air conditioning but no seat-belts;
2.  $$$ a blue taxi van that has no AC, no seat-belts and may or may not have other passengers;
3. $$$1/2 a white taxi van that has no AC, no seat-belts but I share with no one;
4. $ a bus/van which is filled beyond capacity and has a boy hanging out of the open door to attract one's attention and convince you to ride his bus/van;
5. $$ A much smaller, open-to-the-air 2-seater seat-beltless cab with a single put-put bike engine, 3 tyres and an assortment of decorations, partially broken mirrors, and sometimes, a radio. Like other foreigners, I’ve been calling this a Tuktuk (think Thailand). Today I was talking about my morning ride to my colleague and he didn’t understand what I meant… I described it as well as I could in Siberian and he roared with laughter before telling me that the Siberian word is “ricksha”. Of course it is. 

Traffic here doesn't appear to understand the concept of road rules per se, but the bigger car wins, occasionally someone might let you go in front if they're distracted by their mobile phone, and sometimes someone would rather wait than let the man and his donkey-led cart scratch his car. I may have advised 'him' that if at all possible, we would be using the one vehicle we have with seat-belts for safety.

 

Most of you will know that I worked for some time with Victoria's Transport Accident Commission in Melbourne. That followed my job as a nurse in the emergency department of the major trauma hospital in Victoria. I am not a stranger to the road toll, nor those injured in, or by vehicles. Unfortunately, I'm also a little more experienced than I would like at participating in car accidents. All of this means that I'm more nervous than your average front-seat passenger and tend to be quite vocal towards anyone who does not wear a seat-belt or blatantly breaks road rules. This is generally tolerable in a society that attempts to follow road rules, has sealed roads and sells vehicles with seat-belts, airbags and numerous other protective features.

 

So, my dilemma is my hypocrisy at being so conscious of the risk every time I'm on the road here, but being unable to address it, so I usually choose comfort over safety (road being anything on which a vehicle travels i.e. tarmac, sand, dust, rock, pothole-to-pothole or grass). The ricksha is almost the cheapest option, definitely the most lively and possibly the most comfortable means of getting to work at present given the mid-winter, mid-30s temperatures. It is really a very unsafe mode of transport and I was left sheepishly speechless when challenged by 'him' about why I insist on driving when possible but happily get into death-by-3wheels twice a day rather than paying a little more for sides and windows on my vehicle. Playing candy crush on my kindle while the wind, sand and diesel fumes rush about me is so much fun!

She says...come and work with me!

Last week I was very kindly (and informally) offered a position with a different European-based NGO. I met my soon-to-be predecessor, a lovely young kiwi man (YKM), during a social board games evening. Yes, we party hard in Siberia. YKM told me later that he wouldn't have contacted me it if I hadn't picked up the details of the game so quickly.....it really is the little things that count.

I haven't yet formally received or accepted the offer. 'He' and I agreed to talk with the big man about it for a while, which is part of the delay, and the other is that there is no one more senior than my proposed position in the country to complete anything formal.  My soon-to-be boss is very highly respected and clearly brings joy and laughter to the office, but he also happens to be the CEO of the multinational organisation, so I am not yet sure if or when he will return to Siberia.

Nonetheless, after 4 days of work I have a new email address with their logo, I've learned of approx. 3,653 in-house concerns that could do with some of my energy and effort, and the watchman brings me tea and coffee throughout the day, goes and gets keys cut for me and fixes the AC when it blows dust/sand on me. Although I'm volunteering pre-contract, today I was given by YKM the equivalent of $35 to cover my meal costs for a week. That's above the free staff lunch that the cook/cleaner lass prepares everyday. Those meals have been really quite nice so far, but today I was forced to restrain my facial expression at the sight of what appeared to be portions of a cleft-footed animal hoof. I did plan to eat it, but once it was on my plate I couldn't determine where the edible bit began and the bone finished. I asked my colleagues what it was, and despite offering 'cow, camel, sheep, goat' in both English and Siberian, I was told it was 'meat' (in both English and Siberian). 

The NGO's specialty is providing access to water within established communities, and they also do some community development and training of Trainers.... who train Teachers of children with special needs. There's not really a health component (other than extrapolating the necessity for water!) which I'm a little disappointed about. On the other hand, while my role is, let's say 'ill-defined', I can probably push some sort of community development/public health projects eventually.
          Whilst health is on hold for the time being, almost every other topic you could think of falls under my responsibility. My primary role will be the Financial Manager (with desperately needed support from NZ-based YKM via the wonders of the internet), but I will also be in charge of general administration and Human Resources for the 5 Siberian offices. I've been asked to address the situation of the 4+ staff who have been given official warnings and then dismissed during the past 18mths, but continue to appear at the office most days and receive a free lunch and a salary.  Note, this group does not include the somewhat larger group of female employees who have deemed it necessary to hide upstairs in the guest accommodation for a close-eyed meeting each afternoon. It was only 3 months ago that someone put their foot down and banned children of employees from attending the office each day.

Just in case I'm not busy enough in my 3, possibly 4 days a week, I offered to pick up the dusty, neglected hat for security, chiefly because I'm a little concerned about the lack of locks on anything (including the front door), and the watchmen, who have yet to be witnessed doing any watching.

So who wants to come and work for me in Siberia?? Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention that we don't have any money, so it'll be voluntary. I should also warn that you will have a higher than usual chance of meeting our maker earlier that you expected when traveling to and from work each day, but that is a topic for the next blog.

He says... 'In Omnia Promptus'

A few people have asked me for more details about my job. What does a Country Director actually do?

Good question. 

I thought that a good way to answer might be to walk you through a day in the life of a Country Director. Yesterday, for example, was a particularly interesting one.

My day normally begins around 6:30am. I stumble out of bed and boil enough water to make a coffee and a bowl of Weetbix. We may be far from home, but every good Country Director needs at least three Weetbix to start the day. They are the British variety (Weetabix) so they are ridiculously wrapped in this flimsy white paper. The end result being me spilling  crumbs everywhere. I know I digress, but anyone who eats Weetabix on a daily basis will share my frustration. They ought to make a visit to Sanitarium to improve their packaging.

Enough about Weetabix.

'She' is normally still sound asleep so I have a bit of time to myself to collect my thoughts and get ready for the day. By 7:30am-7:45am I am normally ready for work. The wonderful thing about living two stories above the office it that it takes me less than thirty seconds to get to work.

I normally arrive at the office at much the same time as the cleaning lady. She doesn't speak much English and I don't speak much Siberian either, so we always have fairly short conversations. She doesn't like it when I open all the windows, 'cause it lets all the dust in and I don't particularly like it when she puts the fan on a full speed, so already we have a bit of a fractious relationship. She generally cleans at the same time as I am trying to check my emails, which means all my stuff gets moved about, so I can't then find it when I actually need it... However the best thing is that around 9am she brings me a cup of hot tea, with lots of sugar, so all is forgiven.

Yesterday, at 9:30am I had a meeting with the Europeans to discuss an upcoming call for proposals. Most meetings are much the same. Beforehand you swap small talk, and being a newby I get to hand out business cards to the same people you meet at nearly every meeting. We are a fairly tight bunch here, as we are all operating under a fairly restrictive environment. The funding opportunity looks promising and I think we are well placed to submit a concept note in early March. We are not flush with funds at the moment, so the call for proposals has come at a good time for us.
 

After the meeting, I decided I couldn't be bothered waiting for the driver to come and collect me, so I jumped into a local taxi. My Siberian is very limited but I know the three key words for left, right and straight ahead. I am also able to pronounce the names of the two key roads/streets near our house... It's always an adventure. I quickly realised that the taxi didn't have very good brakes, so thought I should put my seat belt on. Oops, no belt. Right, let me hold onto the door handle... Ummm, I think the door might come off if I do that. How 'bout holding onto the dashboard? No joy there either as it too started to come apart. So it was quite an interesting ride home. The driver was very friendly and knew all about Australia and Kangaroos. Thankfully I got back to the office in one piece.

By midday I am always hungry. On Sundays and Thursdays I have initiated a staff lunch (they call it breakfast). I figure a team that eats together, stays together. It's a small way of appreciating the staff. It's also a nice way to get to know them a little better in a more relaxed atmosphere. On the other days, I duck upstairs and have lunch with 'she'. It's nice to have a break and catch up on her morning.... Although of late it's more about her complaining about not having a job and being stuck at home, which is a fair complaint. We are both looking forward to her starting some meaningful employment soon. 

 

By early afternoon my brain is normally fried. I tend to look at emails and spend time meeting with staff, things that I enjoy and find less mentally taxing. I reviewed and suggested some changes to a proposal that we are submitting to OFDA in Washington. It has been an interesting process as we are at odds with the donor on some of the key design issues. We are quite determined to 'push  back' because we believe that we know what is required on the ground and the local OFDA post here (who approved the initial design) are in agreement. Interestingly, the staff at our HQ, want us to go with what the good folk in Washington have requested. They don't want to upset the donor. There is always lots of backward and forward when negotiating on new proposals.. I hope that at least Washington might engage us on the issues rather than simply saying no. I'll be interested to see what happens....

The staff normally leave the office around 4:30pm. We have begun to assist with providing transport to and from the office to our staff in the City. This is due to the massive price increases that took place during October and November of 2013. Fuel went up by 80% and so public transport services have somewhat diminished and have become increasingly unaffordable for the local staff. Looking at the payroll, I have to admit I have been very shocked at the little amount that local staff earn. We have given them a 20% increase to start the year but when the cost of living is increasing at between 40-60%, I still wonder how they manage to survive. If our funding situation improves I hope we will be able to review staff salaries again later in the year.

I decided to close my laptop at 5:00pm and spend some time with 'she' on our front verandah. I had just sat down and taken a sip of soda water with a slice of lemon, when my phone rang... It was my Senior Program Manager who is based in the main conflict area of Siberia. Staff at one of the field locations had reported heavy fighting between government forces and the local rebels. We had eight staff stuck in the office who were unable to move from their location. 

Fighting lasted for between 1.5-2hrs, during which time I was trying to phone either WFP, UNDSS and the local UN peace keeping force to see whether it was possible to relocate the staff to either of their compounds. In the process, I discovered that the majority of the emergency phone numbers in the evacuation plan were either wrong or outdated. Staff turnover is very high here with key staff (UN) often only staying in country for three to six months at a time. Thankfully, I managed to get hold of the key people and was able to keep in touch with the situation on the ground. The fighting was too heavy to consider an evacuation so the staff were forced to stay in the office and wait things out. Fighting ended around 7:30pm and the rebels then took control of the town before looting fuel supplies and retreating back into the mountains. By 9pm the streets became quiet and all of the local staff were able to return to their homes.. The one 'relocatable' staff member was able to go to the WFP compound and will stay there till we decide it is safe to re-open the office.

Having decided that there was nothing more needing to be done, I went back upstairs to find "she" doing a puzzle. We (more 'she' than 'he') have been doing a puzzle based on the City where her family live. I found about two pieces and then decided I was ready for bed...

Just as I was about to go to bed, the electricity failed, well we went from three phases to one phase. I am not an expert on things electrical but I have seen this several times in Zim, It's like having a third of your normal power voltage. Things don't go completely dark, instead they go a romantic shade of sepia. I thought it was time to try the generator. It's a 15KVA generator (Zim folk will remember the infamous15 KVA generator I had in BYO) that powers our whole office. However the downside is that it makes a huge racket. Most of our neighbors don't have generators so I decided it was prudent to leave it off. The downside being that both 'he' and 'she' lay on our bed getting hotter and grumpier as the mosquitoes circled around us. 

By 11:30pm I'd had enough and got the guard to fire up the generator. With the fans and A/C working again we were able to finally drift off into a deep sleep.......

To conclude, I would use the Latin phrase of 'Omnia Promptus' to best describe my role. My sister, the Latin teacher, will tell you it means 'ready for anything' and it also happens to be the motto on our family crest. Even after two weeks in this role I am learning to be ready for anything.

Postscript:

My initial writing of this post has again been interrupted by another dreaded phone call. A key staff member has been given 24 hours to leave the country by security. So once again I spent yesterday (Thursday) on the phone and in meetings trying to seek a resolution. I am not hopeful of the outcome but I hope at least we can buy some time to allow him to have an honourable exit.

It frustrates me that we spend so much time in damage control rather than  focusing on the true nature of our work. I have been here almost two weeks and I am yet to actually see the work we do. As my colleague said yesterday, he too was cynical about our presence here until he saw first hand the work in the field. I hope that some of my cynicism will be washed away when I finally get to travel. 

  

She says...one week in

I'm struggling a bit to know what to write about. My days are blending into one another with not a lot of excitement or adventure to share apart from awesome flailing of arms and legs to detract mosquitoes, but perhaps a simple insight into life here will be interesting. If not,  please tell me :)

He is already very busy at work. Conversations outside of work are related to work about 60% of the time with colleagues (when socialising) and 40% of the time with me. It makes me very proud of him and happy that we're here and he can be involved in this work. I enjoy hearing what's going on and being able to offer some response, but it makes me desperately keen to have a job of my own and as such, a purpose to fulfill outside of the home. Me, me, me, meeeee! Friendships will develop and that will be a great purpose, but these things take lots of time in countries such as this where women are generally segregated socially, at home during the day and somewhat reluctant to initiate conversation with a foreigner.

We have a local corner store with a very friendly owner and he is my only regular contact with locals at present. There aren't many places to 'hang out' as such. I could sit in one of the 3 or 4 coffee shops but they're mostly frequented by expats which doesn't meet my desire for local friendships. Our home and office is in a residential street.....I'm not brave enough to knock on doors yet, but once I have my kitchen equipment (later this week!), I'll probably bake some cookies and try to meet the neighbours.

Yesterday I went out on my own for the first time in taxis and tuktuks. It would have been very difficult, if not impossible without local language, so for that, I am extremely grateful. I've discovered that the dialect spoken here is much more similar to that of the land of gold and oil rather than the land of Petra. Digging deep into my brain recesses to find some of that vocabulary!

I visited the British Council in the hope that I might be able to find some English teaching work and inquire about completing the CELTA course while I'm here. I was received with significant hesitation, advised that the next CELTA course might occur towards the end of 2014 and invited to attend conversation evenings with locals in English if I wanted. In short, I need the CELTA before they'll even talk to me. Fair enough. He suggested going to the land of pyramids to complete one there, but I'm not that invested yet....perhaps if I have a long stay outside of the country awaiting my longer-term residency permit I could do it in Europe.

I then went to the ICRC headquarters. The man I spoke to was very kind but explained (as I had expected) that all contact must go through Geneva, and informed me that the local Red Crescent doesn't employ expatriates. I'm disappointed, but I received the contact details of a woman working with the IFRC and also the Danish RC who have a relationship with the local Red Crescent and want a local expatriate to liaise, so I've put eager feelers out and will see what happens.

We have no kitchen equipment yet except a fridge and a stove, so I borrowed a few items from the guest apartment downstairs and attempted to prepare a couple of meals. So far it's been pretty sad. I may have even upset our stomachs with the first meal of chicken with pasta and eggplant eek. Vegetables don't seem to keep and meat is expensive. I think my cooking style will inevitably change and I'll probably purchase vegetables on the days I cook...but for now, we alternate eating out (quite cheap but with a 1/3 restaurant food success rate so far) and cooking hotch-potch meals. My first bread rolls were small but yummy and decorated with charcoal bottoms. Lemon cookies were more of a success with an extra metal tray protecting them from the impressive heat below. Knitting has recommenced with a cute baby tunic nearly complete for Baby Gook and I've been reading a Robin Hobbs Farseer Trilogy recommended by a friend. He has enjoyed it more than I, but at the beginning of book 2, I feel invested...

We're thinking of those of you sweltering in the heatwave and hope you're managing to keep cool - perhaps you'll think of us during our annual 9mths of over 40 degree weather!

He says.... Dust everywhere!

Having left the antipodes more than a month ago, it has been a huge relief to finally arrive at our intended destination. Our flights were very uneventful, except for the fact that Turkish airlines decided to help us acclimatise to our new home by keeping the cabin temperature feverishly hot.

The first thing one notices about this place is the dust. Every nook and cranny is filled with a fine film of sand. Even with copious amounts of cleaning, I doubt we will ever be able to shake off all the dust until we are back in more familiar climes. Given our apartment has been vacant since May of 2013, there is dust everywhere.

The second thing is the sunshine. Having experienced the 'dark months' in Europe, I have enjoyed waking up each morning to sunlight streaming through our windows. Even though we are enjoying cooler winter temperatures, it has been nice to be able to sit out on one of our three verandahs and enjoy the morning sun with a cup of fresh coffee.

Apart from the dust and the sun there is the constant noise of our neighbourhood. There are salesmen selling vegetables or delivering water who travel up and down our street on donkey and cart. They yell undistinguishable messages through their megaphones or shout very loudly for everyone to hear at all times of the day.

There is the call to prayer, five times a day, from the four local mosques that remind us where we are living and help us to remember what time of day it is.

Living above our office, we also hear the comings and going of the staff.

She has landed like a duck in water. I think it has taken me a bit longer to find my bearings.

I have been a bit hesitant about driving on the wrong side of the road in a place I am very unfamiliar with, where I don't speak the language and in a car that is badly in need of a service. However, without the car, we are relatively stuck in our little neighbourhood.

Yesterday I took the bull by its metaphorical horns and took the little office car for a spin. She was the navigator. She is a very nervous passenger at the best of times. However, to her credit, she did very well not to get too upset at my driving. I am pleased to say I only ended up on the wrong side of the road on one occasion. She says I need to drive with more aggression. She never said that in Melbourne. I also have access to a Toyota Hilux, so I am looking forward to driving that rather than the little Hyundai!

We have discovered a number of local supermarkets and yesterday I drove to our city's only significant shopping mall. It was a bit strange being in a western mall, but we liked it and will probably go back again, several times! Next door, is one of only two five-star hotels in the city. I think we will be very grateful for the swimming pool there, once the warmer weather arrives.

I went to work for a half-day on Thursday afternoon. It was nice to meet the staff and to begin the process of putting faces to names. The ship has been without a captain for the past nine months. There are plenty of things that require my attention. I will need to think carefully about what to prioritise in my initial time here.

So, it is good to be here. I hope that as we settle in, we will begin to meet more people and begin to feel more at ease in our new environment. Moving continents is never easy at the best of times, so all things considered I feel we have had a very gentle landing. I am very grateful to have her with me as I navigate the local language, customs and traffic!. It's definitely been easier doing this move as a couple than as a single person. For that I feel very blessed.

She says...what I'm expecting from our new home

I thought it might be fun to record some expectations of our new home and life before we arrive later this week, especially since I've never been there and barely even been to the continent.

You'll know the feeling that you have when you've never met someone but you've created an image in your head about what they look like and how they speak or respond to things. Apart from seeing a few pictures and videos, all the images I have in my mind about our new home are heavily influenced by my past experience of living in the ME and a description someone offered me of "Dubai 20 years ago".

Regarding the home, I know we're moving into a furnished apartment on the 3rd floor of a 3-storey building (no other residents in the building)...I imagine tiled floors, dull beige concrete walls, netting and possibly metalwork on the windows, big rooms, bedrooms with mosquito nets, bathrooms with bidets and hoses in which you can't flush toilet paper, and a large balcony area with plants and comfy seats. I expect it'll get dirty constantly, so we'll spend a lot of time cleaning the floors and dusting shelves. The kitchen is likely to be gas run, but I don't know if there are local shortages or whether we'll have constant water, electricity or gas. I've lived in environments that have had full coverage and intermittent, so I'll adjust either way. I'm not even sure if water is piped or delivered on a schedule to our home. We'll have a water cooler that we refill with 15L bottles delivered to our door on demand, and I will probably pay someone to carry the groceries up the stairs for me - at least initially when we are purchasing a lot at once :). That makes me think about the Dutch pulley systems they have on the outside of tall buildings for lugging heavy items up and in through the windows...

It's easier to imagine what his 'life' will be like rather than my own because 50-60 hours a week (at least initially) will be work-focused and structured. He's going to be tired outside of the time, looking to relax and enjoy the warm weather and explore our new home. I think we'll probably sleep early in the evenings and wake very early to get things done before it's too hot.

I have lots of things I could do to keep busy but I don't yet know what I will do, or what will 'work' in the new environment. I want to continue to improve my language, to meet our neighbours and develop friendships, to look for part-time or contract employment, to determine a way I can get and maintain fitness, to learn how to enjoy knitting in a stinking hot environment, to learn how I need to support him outside of work. I would like to get back into sailing (a teenage hobby I loved). Part of me thinks it will be easy to find work as a foreigner with some NGO, developing world, healthcare and project experience, but another part of me thinks it could prove to be very difficult, so I'm trying to avoid getting my hopes up. Wait and see, one day at a time...

Initially I'll be busy setting up home, ensuring we have all our basic household supplies for cooking and cleaning and healthy living in a hot, hot place. I will have to ask local women what they do to prepare fruit and veges to eat safely. I'll need to learn our local area and the best place to buy veges, meat, clothing etc., and also how to get there and back safely. I've heard that public transport is reasonably good and safe, but it always takes a while to learn the routes, and in countries such as this, there are always unique ways to let drivers know you want to get out etc. I expect that there will be some kind of mini-bus or local taxi service that run regular routes that I can hop on and hop off as needed. It's a good way to get to know the city, by riding all the routes, especially with the advantage of map apps on the phone to record places to return to and set routes. I'm not sure whether I'll feel comfortable doing that on my own immediately, or if I'll have someone's wife from the office to come with me. It certainly helps that I have enough language to get myself home and express frustration if needed! It's cultural to have a maid and given that we have to iron every single item of clothing that has been dried outside (including underwear), I'll be glad for her assistance. I've hired cleaners in the past for a couple of hours a week but I suspect this will be more of a few days a week role and I'm quite nervous about what expectations to have of her and how much I'm expected to monitor etc. I like to think that we'll become firm friends and she'll only speak local language with me.

I hope that some of the pleasant smells of the ME will be found around our new home - roasting lamb, turkish coffee brewing, fresh baklava, sweetened mint tea in small glasses, lemon juice dressing, sheesha smoke. I expect landscape features of vacant lots turned into rubbish dumps, stray goats, cats and dogs wandering around, partially destroyed buildings, kids playing football in the street, the odd camel.....but I don't know how much of this will be different or not present due to the influence of the continent the place is situated.

I have heard that the locals are extremely friendly and hospitable, so I hope that I'm able to make friends quickly. My basic language should help with that and I hope I can encourage someone to become my local tutor. I expect that some of the cultural differences I'm used to from the ME will not be as significant in our new home, but I don't know which ones yet. I'm quite confident I'll be waking to a loud melodic call to prayer, and structuring my day around the 5 calls each day. I imagine that women will generally have more freedom than I'm used to experiencing in the ME and hopefully that will encourage friendships for me....but on the other hand, it could mean less interest or need for local women to develop foreign friendships. I wondered about how many women are in the workforce (and therefore how many are at home and available for me to be friends with!), and came across some interesting stats. The literacy rate for women is 63% for the nation but it would be much higher for the area where we live. Women make up only 25% of the workforce, but 80% of national labor is agriculture, so the statistic is perhaps less dramatic than it seems. Surely that means there are women at home during the day who are dying to meet a foreigner who dresses strangely, knits and speaks a poor and weird version of their language?

He says...does anyone read our blog?

This is probably the most consecutive  blog posts I have ever written. I wonder if you're reading them? Comments are welcomed! Maybe I need to write something more controversial? Suggested topics please....?

Why women belong in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant.

God made Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve?

New Zealand is really the 7th state of Australia...

Richie McCaw is a cheat. 

It's Facebook not babybook. I don't care how many hours Charlie slept last night or the colour of his poo. 

Tony Abbott is Australia's 2nd best Prime Minister behind John Howard.

What do you think?

She says...the privilege of forced time in Europe

We've now been in Europe for a month. We're both extremely keen to get to our new country and settle in...it now looks like we will leaving this coming Wednesday which is quite thrilling. I'll still need to return to Europe for a period of time (possibly up to 2 months) to obtain my long-term visa, but we're grateful to be entering and setting up home.

Due to his expected exorbitant workload over the coming few months, the employer was superbly generous in granting him 10 days of holiday for free over the celebratory season. We took the opportunity to travel and see some of Europe.

Family friends from NZ were delightful hosts in Luxembourg over Christmas and spoilt us rotten (pic on left is from the Luxembourg City Christmas Market).

We were taken to Germany for lunch on our first day and explored the guests of their kind Australian friends (we even woke to Santa Sacks from our amazing hosts!). Then, well beyond the call of duty, we were driven to Brussels on the 26th to continue our holiday. Truly blessed by this couple who barely know me and had never met him. Thank you!



Neither of us had been to Belgium and since it was midway between Luxembourg and The Netherlands, it was a good choice for exploring. Brussels is a city of more than 100 museums, so we had plenty to choose from. We spent the first day cruising the city in the rain on a bus tour. Poor photos but good assistance in determining where we wanted to go again. If you're one for viewing other people's photos, there are plenty on my stalkbook site. The one museum I went to for which thee are no photos was the "Lace and Costume" museum. I had visions of a Belgiek version of the V&A. Boy was I wrong. It had one single exhibition of 1970s style clothing (10 items on each of 5 floors of the narrow building) and about 20 items of hand-made lace. Disappointing to say the least.

To make up for my poor use of time on a wet afternoon, I followed up with a visit to the Belgium Brewer's Museum in the Grand Place. A much more successful and enjoyable visit complete with samples of produce from local brewers. I had read of a pub called Poechenellekelder that was described as wonderful and generally ignored by the public. I'm not sure how that is possible given that the entrance is less than 10 metres from the famous Manneken Pis statue, but we were delighted to stumble upon it by accident. I was a little nervous about trying a Christmas beer, but took the plunge given the 15 listed on the menu. The Stille Nacht beer I tried (pic on the right) was excellent. I was pleasantly surprised to find it was not flavoured with nutmeg or cinnamon - rather, the production is just limited to Christmas time. Phew.

 He chose to go to 'The Art of the Brick' LEGO exhibition at the old Stock Exchange building. A long queue, expensive entry fee and limited items to view, but worthwhile he reports. My favourite image he took is on the left here - I wish I'd had that many LEGO people when I was a child!

Another highlight was the Museum of Musical Instruments which claims the largest and most diverse collection of musical instruments in the world. Very few signs were in English so we were grateful to have iPods to listen to on the way around which played a piece of music of the particular instrument we stood in front of - very clever and enjoyable.


We thoroughly enjoyed our time in Brussels...if you do visit, we can recommend the Hotel Bloom as an excellent location from which to play tourist - supermarket, restaurants, trams and trains all within 100m.

She says....ransom, hackers, AK47s, impaled limbs and kidnappers

Apologies for the delay in our second posts. We've spent 10 days away from the Netherlands and he managed to convince me to leave my computer behind....now to catch you up on all the events of the last 2 weeks and thoughts aplenty...

Just before Christmas we spent 3 days in Soesterberg in the Netherlands completing a security training course in preparation for our new home. He has attended a few of these in the past and I have studied most of the topics in different settings....yet this was a new environment, I had a husband with me, all participants were moving to potentially dangerous places, and we were the only native English speakers (tho half the group were also non-Dutch speakers).

The first day was focused on information security (heavily weighted towards IT), some first aid training and some training about dealing with aggression. Nothing I hadn't heard before but it became clear that many of the other group members were much less assertive than the Antipodeans...

The second day involved some emergency scenarios outside in the cold requiring good first aid. As an ex-emergency nurse I chose not to role play a first responder to allow other participants to practice. I found this quite hard despite the number of years since I was a nurse; I had a number of panicky moments watching people attending to small scratches and loud victims before unconscious ones! 

In the evening we had a class about being a hostage and we were surprised mid-PowerPoint by armed, balaclava-clad men storming into the room. There was a 80min exercise of us being yelled at and verbally abused, forced into uncomfortable positions, interrogated by the boss, photographed for a ransom etc. The idea was that we would put our new training into practice to manage our own tension during the stress being applied. I wasn't frightened and actually enjoyed it. I had no idea where he was - a number of rooms were used for the exercise. I had visions of him coming to defend my life if it came to that, but it did occur that he may also have no idea of what was going on or where I was. decided to try and push the boundaries by speaking up and offering to 'help' my captors. I suggested that I could cook a meal for them. The nearest captor called a mate over and they had a good laugh about my suggestion and then roughly rejected it and insisted they could look after themselves. There was a short pause before I heard him from across the room calling out that they had made a mistake and missed out because I was a good cook. It was all I (and other nearby hostages) could do not to giggle out loud...meanwhile he was hauled off to the boss to explain why he was such a 'funny man'.

After the exercise we removed the blindfolds, shook hands with all our captors and sat for a debrief. To my surprise I was called out by the captors for adding a silent "comma a$$hole" to everything I said....as much as I would have liked to deny it, it was written all over my face in the copy of the ransom photo we were given! Although I was always conscious that we were in a training exercise (unlike an unfortunate few participants) I can imagine that I'd struggle to withhold my contempt in a real-life situation. The part of me that responds quickly and confidently to a crisis needs an attitude control dial :).  Good learning perhaps....

Similarly, I was struck by my innate tendency to control or take charge in a situation even when I feel happy to submit to another leader. Yes, I can hear you laughing. We completed 4 scenarios on the last day to put all our training into practice.  He has many leadership skills that I do not have and is much more of a team manager/coordinator than I, but I found it difficult to not step in and do something without his direction...and even did so unconsciously. Good to be aware of this now before we face a crisis of similar nature, but more importantly perhaps, it is good to contemplate the implications and learn how to address my behaviour for the sake of our marriage.