She says...Is hostage too strong?

Today is the day we are booked to travel to Dubai for the rugby 7s competition, to relax, shop for food for Christmas, and to replace my wedding rings. We planned this trip a year ago and have been really looking forward to it.

We are not traveling because we have not yet been granted our residence visa or a travel visa (dependent on the first). We cannot legally leave Siberia without an exit visa. Although we are free to move around our city, we cannot travel domestically or internationally. So, if we wanted to leave Siberia "voluntarily" without one, we would have to grease a palm at immigration. Rather ironically, and conscience-tugging, this is exactly what we have refused to do in the process of seeking our residence visa. If we did leave this way, it would also cause significant issues for His replacement when he/she seeks a work permit.

As time has gone by and we have continued online sessions with a counselor, my anxiety and panic about being stuck here and threatened with expulsion has reduced. For this, we are very grateful. The increased stability of emotions has also strengthened my resolve to want to stay here for another year. In the last 4-6 weeks, we have expanded our group of friends and social adventures with many nationals. The thought of leaving "voluntarily" now fills me with sadness and disappointment.

In His ever-optimistic view that the visas are resolved later in the week, but too late to get to Dubai, He has decided that the Capetown 7s on the 10th would be a suitable substitution...so we're daydreaming about that. His favourite city in the world and somewhere I haven't yet had the pleasure to visit.

He says, "Mexican standoff."

I am killing two birds with one stone.

She and I have started a conversation with someone in Netherlands to try and help us process our situation in a more positive and constructive way. Not an easy task.

As she mentioned in her last post our visas expired on the 30th of October. We have not been told if they are going to be renewed. We are able to stay as we have submitted the paperwork to the authorities, more than three months ago. However, we cannot legally leave as that would require a final exit visa. Basically if we leave, you can be guaranteed we will not get back in through the same channels. 

What is the issue?  As She says, it started with my arrest at the start of this year. However It's more than that. When my boss visited in May they told him I was too opinionated, too outspoken and that I lacked respect for them. On all three fronts I would agree with them. 

My problem is that I have an opinion and I am happy to push back. I'm not afraid to shout (when they start shouting) and I have become very good at preempting what they might do next. I frustrate them, incredibly so, because I haven't stopped the shouting, the pushing back, the saying no and then bringing in a lawyer when I knew they were going to ask me to pay them a "facilitation fee." to fast track the renewal of our visas/stay permits.

My biggest problem is that there are too many Country Directors here in Siberia that are not like me. They give a little, then a little bit more, then quite a bit more after that. It's only then that they realise that they're on a very slippery slope and it's very hard to stop the momentum. Still if you have deep pockets, maybe it works?

To quote her again, "We want to stay. We have good friends here, a nice house and garden, and access to a lovely gym and pool, and we live next-door to the place we’re hoping to adopt from. His work is challenging but mostly rewarding. We want to complete the [three year] stint and get our [three months] of paid holiday at the end of it. I want to stay for practical reasons, and I want to go for emotional ones. I’m tired of the uncertainty.

My natural inclination would be to go and demand the permit for us to stay. I'd dare them, and have done so on a few occasions, to kick us out. However, this is what they want.

If Siberia has taught me anything, it's that often the best thing is to do nothing. 

That patience is often the most valuable tool in the bag. 

They want me to beg, to plead for the permit. They will shout at me, probably lock me in a room and then tell me I am too loud mouthed, too young, too inexperienced and most importantly I lack respect for them and for the Country of Siberia. That wouldn't worry me if I thought it would get us the permit. But I am not sure it would. I could go through all of that and they'd still likely leave  us in limbo. 

It's more than two weeks since I last met them. I have not called them and they have not called me. It's a Mexican standoff in Siberia.

Still, time is not on my side. They could leave us waiting, waiting for weeks and months. My Zimbabwean colleague waited four months for an exit visa. He was never the same and left shortly afterwards.

She has made it evidently clear that she wants a decision to be made either way. Rightly so, we can't keep living in limbo like this. To add to the time pressure, we are booked to go to Dubai for the rugby sevens. Something we both have been looking forward to for a whole year. Is it worth giving up on our life in Siberia for a weekend of rugby and time with friends ? I honestly don't know.

I feel weighed down by my own expectations, her expectations and trying to decide what is best for our organisation. There are no simple answers and I have no real plan. Each and every day I think of a different angle, or a different way forward. I operate in a million shades of grey (why just fifty?). That only exacerbates her frustrations and concerns as she pushes me for black and white answers. What are we doing? When are you meeting them? We are leaving on the 30th, right? I simply don't have the concrete responses she is looking for.

At times like these I often think about the book of Ecclesiastes.  This is one of my favourite books. It was written by a bloke, much smarter than me, who  thirsted for wisdom and knowledge. He gave many years of his life, looking for answers.  The sum of all his investigation was that life was basically meaningless. That good and bad happened to all of us and that the only certainly of this life was death. 

Like me, he didn't have the answers either. 

The point is, that we are not always going to have the answers in life that we need. That life is much bigger than you or I or the multitude of decisions that we have to make on a daily basis. The message of Ecclesiastes is that whatever our situation or lot in life, there is a Power that is beyond our knowing and fully understanding. The Power that brings the sun to shine and the rain to fall on good and bad alike. Though we may not fully understand or comprehend we are called to trust, to live and to know even in difficult and shitty situations that His character is constant and unchanging. 

That He knows our situation, far more than we ourselves do. That is our strength. Our Hope.

It's easier to type this than it is to live it out. To continue our normal routine and to keep things going at the office when we could very easily find ourselves out of the country, with all the upheaval this would cause. 

He knows. Thank goodness for that.

She says...Those who have power and those who have none.

It’s been a while since we blogged. Stuff has happened, time has passed, laundry has been done and Rhodes even had a bath. I’m in the last two weeks of my semester, and I’ve written nearly half of my 6,000 word Master’s assignment. I’d tell you the topic but you might fall asleep and fail to read the rest of the blog, so I’ll save it for those who genuinely want to know and ask. Isn’t it funny how I always think of blog topics when I should be writing about other stuff?

We’ve just been through another of our ~3mthly panics that we were about to be expelled and I’m conscious that my resilience is waning. I think it’ll be cathartic to write about it, so here it is. An insight into the complexity that life is working in a country where you are needed by those who have no power, but definitely not wanted by those who do.

These events started happening not long after we arrived in early 2014, and the first was my fault, when I caused mayhem by trying to find a job. Let it be known that the rest of the panic-events can be clearly blamed on Him. Although I am legally entitled to work here, it is one of the many strings of control that can be pulled by the authorities to place pressure on the international aid workers. By preventing me from working, it makes the choker-chain that little bit tighter around Him and his organisation. In order to work here, I would have to surrender my spouse visa and leave the country. There is absolutely no guarantee that I would be granted a work visa, so I could be permanently stuck outside the country while He continues to work in Siberia. Not ideal, and not worth the risk.

The potential-expulsion-events have become more of a routine since early 2015 when He had a ‘meeting’ with some officials who like to carry handcuffs. They sometimes involve a warning when He sees or hears something and tells me to be ready, and sometimes I get no warning. The most recent event was a no-warning occasion and I got an SMS to say that a colleague was coming to collect me immediately, and I was to rush to off-load our passports with our diplomatic mates. They who failed to make the quarter-finals of the RWC2015(!!) are very kind to us in this regard. I can’t provide much detail about the actual event, but it involved a couple of meetings with various kinds of official people. He was right to be concerned, but it seems they backed down at the last minute.

For 36h or so, I was thinking through one-way flights out of here, life in the Netherlands, finishing off my semester of study in a hotel, Christmas in Europe, packaging enough dog food to last a few months, and how to decide what belongings to leave behind. Then as abruptly as it started, it was over. Life was back to normal, and we picked up the laptops and passports and carried on, again. As stressed as He was during it, once it was over, He bounced back like nothing had happened. But this time I felt different and I was sobbing-dreadfully unattractively-upset. Upset not to be expelled. But I want to stay. We want to stay. We have good friends here, a nice house and garden, and access to a lovely gym and pool, and we live next-door to the place we’re hoping to adopt from. His work is challenging but mostly rewarding. We want to complete the 3y stint and get our 3mths of paid holiday at the end of it. I want to stay for practical reasons, and I want to go for emotional ones. I’m tired of the uncertainty.

The uncertainty isn’t over, but things have calmed down. I’m so grateful to the big man that when one of us melts down, it often happens that the other is calm, rational and comforting - one of the many treasures of marriage.  We don’t yet have permission to be here after the end of this month. We may not get permission, as it would be a convenient way to force us to leave without any drama. We wouldn’t be forced to leave immediately - basically, if we don’t get our next visa, the next time we travel, we couldn’t re-enter. That is likely to be early December. But we might get permission.  It’s in the big-man’s hands.

She says...Lions, an unexpected trip to Kenya and doubling the size of our family

It's been far too long since I last wrote a blog...but there are a few excuses. I finished up an extremely busy semester of study, and we then went on an incredible 2 week vacation with my parents in Tanzania. The safari was mind-blowing amazing, and we had a great time relaxing on and exploring Zanzibar.

I then, extremely unglamorously, fell out of the shower and my back landed on the porcelain edge of the toilet. After a couple of excruciating days in Siberia, we were flown in a private jet to Kenya, where I spent 2 weeks in the Nairobi hospital. I'm recovering extremely well, but it's a 2 step forwards, 1 step backwards kind of process, as I constantly re-assess my ability in the gym. Not being a gym-bunny, I've adapted quite quickly to being there 5-6 days a week, and I'm surprised that I'm really enjoying it. Long may it last.

The other thing that has been keeping me busy, is working on the logistics of trying to adopt. It's something we've been thinking about for a long time, but it has required a lot of talking and praying about, for obvious reasons. The idea has also spent considerable time in the too-hard basket. It was virtually impossible for us to adopt in the Antipodes primarily due to lengthy waiting lists, delays of up to 10y before a child is received, and various other limitations. Adopting as an expat is known to be one of the easier ways to do it, and legally, once we have lived overseas for 12mths, we are permitted to adopt and seek citizenship for that child in one of our home countries.  But, naturally, international adoption comes with all kinds of risks and logistical complications.

The first step in the adoption process is to complete a home study, i.e an assessment by a qualified Social Worker or adoption agency, or our suitability to be parents. It doesn't make a lot of sense when most people can get pregnant and have a child whenever they like, but it does when you consider that there are so many stories of adopted children being abused and mistreated.

We were fortunate to find a home study provider that normally works with US expatriates, but agreed to work with us. They recommended that we adopt from the US, based on the ease of the process, the ability to adopt infants (this is surprisingly uncommon nowadays in international adoptions), and the speed of the process. We were surprised that we could do this, as Antipodeans, but eagerly pursued the idea with happiness at avoiding all the risks of African adoptions. We were referred to a man in New York is specialises in expatriate adoptions in the US...and then quoted USD60,000 per child, not including all the travel and in-country expenses involved. I cried.  Sadly, there is a lot of money involved in the process. I had expected 25k, but 60k?!!! As He said, "they should be paying us to adopt a child"! When I mentioned the cost estimate to the home study provider, they were horrified. They had no idea that this gentleman charged such an exorbitant fee, and suggested we re-consider Ethiopia.

The most significant risks in Africa are getting fooled into adopting a child that is not an orphan, or who has been sold or trafficked into adoption, or at least 'led' by persuasion. One of the ways to reduce this risk is to adopt from a Hague-accredited country*. There are a lot of them, >30.

Unfortunately, Ethiopia was accredited but then stripped of it a few years ago due to reports of recruitment of children from birth parents by adoption service providers or their employees.  There are rumours that it won't be long before it's reaccredited. Once they were stripped of their accredita

tion, the Australian and NZ governments rightly ceased formal arrangements for adoption with them. However, we can still adopt privately from Ethiopia, and I soon learned that there are a lot of expatriates doing so. Most of them seem to live in Singapore or the UAE. Unsurprisingly, none of them are in our country of residence (!)...but it has been encouraging and extremely informative to talk with them, especially the Antipodeans who've been through it and successfully obtained home-country citizenship for their adopted children.

Ethiopia is a good choice for us for a number of reasons; it was our first choice due to friends who've had good experiences adopting from there, it's one of our neighbouring countries, thus convenient for traveling in and out, it's a country that allows adoptions by people of our faith, and it is one of the few foreign countries that still offers the opportunity to adopt infants. 'Siberia' does not allow adoption by people of our faith, which is very sad, particularly because there are more than 10,000 children in need of homes from one region of this country.

Navigating the adoption is tricky. Naturally we want to do the best we can to avoid corruption, adopting a child who shouldn't be available for adoption, or unintentionally greasing the palms of dodgy providers. This is also where the expat group is helpful for their experience and advice. The number of people involved in the process is huge. The home study providers, lawyers in Ethiopia and our home countries, adoption facilitators, the Ethiopian Ministry of Women, Children and Youth Affairs, the Ethiopian courts, etc.

So, what now? It's a little astonishing that after months of paperwork and correspondence, we are really only at the first stage. The home study required a 5,000 question survey that we had to complete together. Slight exaggeration on the number of questions there, but it must have been close. It took us months. It was extremely intensive, personal and confronting, addressing our childhood histories, our marriage history, our schooling, studies, careers, faith beliefs, why we want to adopt, why we love each other, how we plan to raise children, how we would discipline,  and a number of other extremely personal questions.

The organisation wisely asked us to determine numerous things to ensure that we can definitely obtain citizenship for the children once they're adopted. This was really difficult, as the Antipodean governments don't want anything to do with the adoption until the children are legally ours, so are unwilling to provide anything in writing in advance. But, this is where the expatriate group was helpful again, as there are many couples from down under who have successfully done it recently. So after 3mths of back-and-forth enquiries and discussion, the Social Worker agreed to proceed. We then had to get a visa for her to enter Sudan, which we thought would be very problematic, mostly due to her being American (she lives in Ethiopia). But, all praise to the big man, we got it in a week!

She will visit our home, assess it for suitability for children (we need smoke detectors and childproof locks for cupboards now...try finding those in 'Siberia'!), assess us as a couple, and go through all the answers we gave on the questionnaire. She then has a month to write up the report recommending us (or not...), and once we have that report, we can start the process of finding children, with the help of a facilitator in Ethiopia, who we've already connected with. We have requested two children under the age of three, no gender preferences. They might be siblings or twins, but they could also be unrelated. Adopting two at once is naturally more expensive, and this, at least in Ethiopia, appears to speed up the process. So we expect that we may complete the adoption in the first half of next year. There are no guarantees though, and plenty of opportunities for major hiccups along the way, including not ever getting children. It's hard to imagine how that would feel, but we do keep reminding ourselves that it might not happen at all.

We have decided to be open about it, and update you along the way so that it isn't such a shock if we suddenly have two children who look nothing like us :). Also, for those of you who pray, we'd appreciate your prayers through the lengthy process ahead. We'll update you as things proceed, but be aware that it is likely to be months between any significant news. And don't fear we are going to be all about adoption talk...there's always enough going on (or not going on) in Siberia to share.



*The Hague Convention on Protection of Children and Co-operation in Respect of Intercountry Adoption (or Hague Adoption Convention) is an international convention dealing with international adoption, child laundering, and child trafficking in an effort to protect those involved from the corruption, abuses and exploitation which sometimes accompanies international adoption.

She says...study, death, culture and stigma

I've had the incredible opportunities this week to interview a 'Siberian' Oncologist about her involvement in the establishment of palliative care into her hospital of employment, and to interview an older gentleman who cared for his wife through her battle with breast cancer and eventual death.

My mind and emotions are still reeling in response to what I heard. There is little, if any structure to it right now, so the outlook for my assignments due soon isn't impressive. Yet I feel the need to write about the experience and my learnings anyway, without giving too much thought to the hundreds of articles I've been reading or the need to critically analyse what I heard.

It was somewhat serendipitous that I chose palliative care as my topic of choice. I stumbled across a paper about palliative care for oncology patients in 'Siberia' on the online ANU library. I noted the author's name and google-stalked her email address. Not really expecting a reply, I sent a short email requesting permission to interview her. She replied the same day with a great deal of enthusiasm and agreed to meet me and welcome me into her clinical world.

As I had expected, she has faced and continues to face challenges in her 'mission' to see palliative care become an integrated part of patient care from every angle; her colleagues, the hospital administration, the government and, naturally, her patients and their families have expressed varieties of disinterest, concern and even outrage, and those in authority have actively prevented progress. However, she has prevailed, and now has an active Palliative Care unit at the hospital. Sadly, it isn't yet integrated into the hospital system, and without money and acceptance, it won't become so. This means that patients must be referred by their own Specialists, which is fraught with problems because many of those Physicians consider palliative care to be luxurious. One Oncologist even threatens his patients with being sent to palliative care if they don't behave!

I let the interviews flow with only a cursory glance at my topic guide to ensure we'd covered everything. However, preparing a topic guide allowed some of my preconceptions to blossom. I was surprised to learn that, in general:

• Cultural beliefs are much stronger than religious beliefs with respect to understanding illness and death
• People are much more likely to die in wards rather than the palliative care unit, because they delay seeking treatment until it's so late (due to cost and fear), that they often die before a referral to palliative care is made.
• Traditional healers will often send their 'patient' to the hospital in his/her last days to ensure that the patient's death is not attributed to the traditional methods or 'medicine'.
• There is a serious social stigma associated with cancer in this country.

There is enormous cultural stigma associated with the 'bad disease'. Cancer and HIV fall into this category.  People generally believe that all cancer is contagious and if they learn of someone with it, they will often ostracise and even abandon the person, including their parent, spouse or child.

However, being sick induces compassion, so it is not unusual to see a woman who has had a tumour removed but is perfectly capable of walking and caring for herself, being aided by a relative on each side as she limps along in pretend-discomfort. As long as no one knows that she has a 'bad disease', she maintains her relationships and gains compassion.

In the light of this knowledge, I learned that the gentleman had cared for his wife for 5 years, through two 'bouts' of cancer and therapy, had refused to leave her even when his wife insisted.  He carried her, bathed her, fed her, gave her medications and generally loved on her. He lost contact with all of their friends and many family members due to fear of catching the disease, he spent all of their savings and sold all of their assets whilst traveling to and from our city from their village. He looked at me with tears and said (in Siberian) "Of course I cared for her. She was my wife. My only love. She was my everything." Even yesterday, when I asked, he did not know that cancer is not contagious. He insisted that it didn't matter. He loved his wife.

I was teary and struggled to even speak my gratitude at the end our interview. He was also teary, and I feared that I had unkindly upset him. As I began to apologise, the Dr assisting me with translation corrected me, and said that he was upset because he hadn't known that he would be interviewed by a foreigner. He was upset with the Dr for not informing him in advance, as he felt he had been ungracious and inhospitable by not greeting and hosting me with food and drink at the clinic. What an incredible, inspiring man.

He says, "25 lashes..."

Yesterday I went to the police station. Again. 

Many of you will know I have had ongoing run ins here with the local government officals. I think it must be my convict origins. I don't take kindly to being told what to do, especially when you decide to lock me in a room and yell at me for half an hour about how my organisation and I are "bad" because we have failed to respect the culture and values of Siberia.

That really ticked me off. 

I am "bad" because I choose to follow the laws of Siberia. It might also be that I have an excellent lawyer who is feared and respected by all. This is because he is able to distinguish between that which is politics and that which is the law. In his words, "the law is our friend, we should use it." 

I am seeing more and more that the law is my friend. It is the enemy of those who like to see themselves as being the law or above the law. In my situation, I am not sure who is going to win, but it has been an interesting experience, although not without some nervous moments.  Being arrested is not something I want to make a habit of.

Because of my situation, I have spent quite a few hours at the police station talking with my lawyer. She is a quiet, considered  lady in her mid forties or early fifties I would guess.  She was educated here in Siberia and works as the second partner in probably the most respected law firm in the country.  Most of her extended family have immigrated. Her husband works in London and they have two older children studying there. She is here alone with her youngest daughter. It cannot be an easy task juggling the demands of being a single parent and having to prevent people like myself from being arrested!

We often talk about mundane issues like the weather or my travels to Dubai. Most times we say nothing, fearing that our conversations can be overheard and used against us by the many people loitering around the station, whose job it is to collect information...

But sometimes we talk about what it's like to be a lawyer. Not only a lawyer but a female lawyer in a context where where the evidence of a woman is only worth half of that of a man.

Justice in this country is certainly not always pleasant or even just.

Yesterday we spent a good two hours, sitting on an old wooden bench, waiting for a judge to come and determine my fate. It was a matter of protocol as the arresting officer had already withdrawn the charge. 

While we sat on the wooden bench,  we watched together as groups of men and women were bought to the police.

First there was a group of South Siberians, who since the separation of the southern part of the country are now consider to be illegal immigrants. They are treated worse than animals. They are rounded up like dogs. They sat or crouched on the dusty ground under the intense heat of the midday sun. The fear in their eyes said it all. They have no hope if they go home and little hope if they stay here. They are arrested and then deported. But still they return and continue to return. Life here in this city offers more than their life back home. That they would be subject to such a life, with little to hope for, leaves me incredibly sad. Many have turned to alcohol to deal with the pain and that in turn leads them to more trouble. It is a vicious cycle.

Then a young Ethiopian man, wearing a Manchester United shirt, was hauled in by a rather portly looking policeman. The young man is cocky and still sports a smile as he is led, in handcuffs, before the judge. The lawyer tells me he has been charged with the possession of illicit drugs. Apparently the fine is 20,000 local currency ($4,000 USD) or several years in prision. I wonder if his family and friends are able to raise such funds? He is not so cocky when he is led away to a prison cell following the decision of the judge.

Then a group of 5-10 men and a similar number of women are bought into the station on a pick-up truck. Some of them have suitcases and other luggage. The men are wearing thick winter coats and sweatshirts which makes little sense to me in the intense 40 degree heat. The lawyer tells me they are Libyan. They have been arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. The penalty for their crime is 40 lashes. I cannot begin to fathom that kind of punishment, when the first of the men appear from the room that serves as a court.

I am expecting  that he will be led away to a cell to await  his punishment at a later date. Instead, I am shocked to see the man standing spreadeagled, with his back to me, against the wall of the building directly opposite me. A youthful and muscular policeman suddenly appears and begins to meter out the punishment with what looks to be a hollow plastic pipe.

Each of the men at follow receive 25 lashes each. The lawyer tells me that either they have some "friends" or the judge has gone easy on them. The police evenly distributes the lashes between the neck, the back, the buttocks and below the knees.  I understand now why the men are wearing thick heavy jackets. One of the beatings is stopped half way, because the man being punished had cleverly put his wallet in his back pocket. Not so clever, because when the policeman discovers this he restarts his count at one and again dishes out the full punishment...

Two of the men are taken inside for their punishment. Again, the lawyer says that someone has intervened on their behalf. In a culture that avoids loss of face at all costs, being beaten in  the public domain is the ultimate punishment.

The women are sent inside a room. I ask the lawyer if they will be spared the punishment. She says no. I do not see what happens to them, but we hear the dull thud of the plastic pipe echo through the mid day stillness, Even the women are not spared.

I ask the lawyer if the punishment will have any affect on the men and the women? She laughs."They will get drunk again tonight". I suspect she is right.  

I am finally called before the judge. My appearance lasts less than 30 seconds.The policeman withdraws the charge. There are smiles and handshakes all round. The arresting officer is my new best friend.

Sitting on that wooden bench,  I've had plenty of time to think about justice. I am thankful for a good lawyer who has done most of the legwork and the talking to get the charges against me dropped. I know how much we pay her/them and know it is well beyond what most Siberians could ever afford. 

When I arrived in this country I was told by a contact to get myself a good lawyer, as they're all mother*******. Turns out he was probably right.

Justice in this country, and many others, is the privilege of the wealthy and the educated. It is not always whether you are innocent or guilty but whether you know the right people and whether you can afford a good lawyer. Being educated and knowing your rights also helps. 

 

If my lawyer had been willing or able to intervene on behalf of the Ethiopian, the South Siberians or the  Libyans, their punishment could have been reduced, or even prevented. Such is the world we live.

I am told I no longer need to return to the police station. As much as I will not miss spending countless hours waiting for police to come and go, watching them smoking cigarettes at their desks in between shuffling piles of paper and yelling at helpless South Siberians, it has been good to have a sobering reminder of how privileged and fortunate I am as a westerner living in this country compared to the experiences of most other people who are visitors (legally or otherwise).

I suspect that in my case,  I have won the battle but may ultimately lose the war. Let's see just how good my lawyer is and whether she/they are able to deal with those that consider themselves to be the law or above the law. It's going to be an interesting story either way.

 

She says...28 days, 1,000 CVs and 'The Cave'

After completing a couple of short contracts for the Yemen program of the Disaster Response Unit last year, I was still surprised to get a call 3 weeks ago offering me a 4 week contract in northern Iraq.  Excited to be going, humbled to be offered work in a field very foreign to my experience, sad to be leaving him and Rhodes behind, I packed my bag and flew via Qatar to Erbil, the capital of the Kurdistan region of Iraq.

He and I had done some Google-based research before my departure and learned that Erbil is predicted to be the new Dubai. Great wealth, fast cars and heavy investment were hallmarks of a place that I was enthusiastic about exploring. In reality, Erbil might become the new Dubai by 2070, if very, very lucky and a certain OAG* is displaced, or preferably defeated. I have been describing the city as a very run-down version of Amman. I've found quite a few nice cafes, and two even served coffee worthy of a repeat visit. My favourite serves good coffee, pizza and pasta, and has a wonderful view of an enormous tank (one one day I visited), an artillery-pick up (on another visit) uniformed men carrying large and heavy guns, and a lot of army-camouflage fabric. I asked the waiter what they were guarding and was informed that it is the US consulate. Every time a vehicle slowed down in front of the cafe, I felt my muscles tensing, as if perhaps, I would have time to run.

The weather in Erbil has been reasonably nice outside, generally 12-20 degrees during the day, but in the house/office, it’s almost always freezing. We usually only have a few hours of power a day, and then generator power for 4 or 5 hours if we're lucky, so I spend a lot of the time feeling cold and sorry for myself. It’s nothing compared to what most IDPs / Refugees are dealing with, of course. My colleague and I have affectionately dubbed the house/office ‘The Cave’. It’s dark, cold and really not that pleasant. But what joy upon discovering a hot water bottle in the bathroom (wonderful when the power has been on long enough to warm the water!).

My role here is basically ensuring we’ve got everything we need to run the head office including:
1. Functioning utilities (ha! No power or generator today for 8h so I nearly froze and my computer battery drained so I couldn’t do any work)
2. ADSL (none of the 20 companies we’ve contacted can provide it here)
3. Transport (taxis are currently deemed an abduction risk for expats, but it’s the only mode of transport we have)
4. Staff and interviews. I advertised 4 positions here for national staff and 5 in Duhok, and I received almost 1,000 applications.  About 10% of the applicants applied for at least 2 and sometimes all 9 positions. The Translator needs to be female (culturally, and women tend to be more accurate at translation), and despite it saying so in the job requirements, 90% of the applicants are male, and many don’t speak English. 
5. An established relationship with all key stakeholders. This one is actually going ok, but it seems so crazy to be getting known when I’m leaving in 2 weeks. Hopefully people are connecting with the organisation and not me.

I'm due to finish up at the end of next week. He and I have a planned rendezvous in Dubai for relaxing weekend before heading home. I'm really, really looking forward to it. A great opportunity to be here, good for my CV, and good for building relationships in the organisation, but 4 weeks apart is too long. I miss him and I miss Rhodes.

To finish up, I thought I'd share some of the pearls that I've read in the 600-odd CVs I've managed to get through so far. I admit that if I were to apply for a job in Arabic or Kurdish, someone could write a very funny blog about mine:

Regarding language ability:
"Excellent level of extreme Kurdish"

"English: not bad"

"Being bilingual gives me the chance to function efficiently in both English and Arabic and Kurdish."

"I like English language and it is a part of my body."






Motivation statements and Greetings:
"I need Developed, rival, creator, I will give him my experiences to we grow together, Managing in a modern style, Believes that the team perform more than personnel."

"I am pleased to be one the interview that submitting to work in your company if possible I would enjoy to be interviewed"

"I am ready to do my best in work and work hardly"

"if you feel that i am feet for any of this position"

"Hope My Email finds You as well"

"Dear NGO stuff"

"I had other skills and experiences, which I able to describe with you by meeting, because all the time I am going to build my acknowledgment."


General gems:
"Accunted 2003-2005, Accunted 2006-2007, Translator 2008"

"I'm working on Duhok with displaced people who want to get a job Advanced training nudity CV Writing"

"Name: Ahmed Mohammed, Date of Birth 26 September 1991, Sexual: Syrian Kurd"





* OAG = Organised Armed Group. I think I had added at least 30 new acronyms to my brain database since arriving here; 28 belong to various militias and political parties and the other 2 are yet to be identified. To add to the confusion, each group seems to be known by at least 3 different names.

He says, "The bachelor is back!"

Having started the blog on such a positive note for 2015, we need to keep the momentum going!

I am now a bachelor with her having taken an exciting role with my/our organisation in the Kurdish Region of Iraq (KRI). It is an exciting opportunity in a very interesting part of the world. I had no hesitation in letting her go, although the thoughts of her living 40km down the road from an unruly mob of Jihadists, did give me a few restless nights. She is a strong woman though and I am sure she will put them in their place.

We have loved the cooler winter days and nights. Wearing socks and long pants to bed and sleeping under our quilt with no fan or A/C is a real novelty for us.  I'm not sure it will continue much longer though as we are headed back to high thirties later this week.

Rhodes has not been his normal cheerful self. He seems to be unsettled by our constant coming and going. The site of suitcases being packed /unpacked seems to send him into a state of melancholy... I managed to take him for a run at the American School yesterday. He loves the grass and spends more time sniffing and trying to find puddles of water to jump in than fetching the ball.

There is also an eagle that patrols the school oval. It has a massive wing span and very large claws. I know this because it (I should call it Woosha, Summa or Jacko) has taken to trying to swoop down and collect Rhodes. Thankfully he hasn't managed to lay a claw on our little doggy, but yesterday he managed to pick up a plastic bottle and then drop it just near us. We have been warned!

Speaking of melancholy, to be or not to be? That is the question. We were visited this week by the Globe Theatre of London and their worldwide tour of Hamlet. Siberia was destination number sixty-nine. They plan to visit every single country in the world by the end of 2016. This is in celebration of the 450th anniversary of Shakespeare's birth (I think)! I am sure Siberia was one of their more challenging whistle-stops. The performance was held in an outdoor amphitheater next to the river. We started very late (9:15pm) as we had to wait for the Minister and Under Secretary for the Arts) to arrive. The sound was limited and to make matters worse, another concert of local music was being held next door. By half time (10:45pm) we, along with more than half the audience decided to leave as it was getting later and later and we could hardly hear what was being said. Despite all this, the backdrops and acting were fantastic and we'd love to see the performance in full sometime in the future when the quality of the sound can be guaranteed.

On Wednesday night we had dinner with a representative of the Australian Embassy. I think they see us as a bit of a novelty! Every time a staff member travels to Siberia, the Ambassador makes sure that they invite us out for dinner. She was a pleasant young lady and I have been asked to visit them sometime and have breakfast with all the non-resident Ambassadors/representatives for Siberia. I think I will definitely take her up on the offer!

She says...the end of Year 1

As He mentioned, we've just returned from a wonderful, month-long holiday down under with our families. We spent two indulgent weeks with each of our families (in their respective countries) at the beach. A few tidbits for those of you who know one or both of our families:

• He performed a beautiful ballet dance with dear little friends on a giant jumping pillow.
• We left one family with 4 extra legs and a lot more trouble than they had before we arrived.
• We held a My Kitchen Rules competition with one family - 4 couples each spent 3h preparing and cooking a main and dessert for all, which was then judged by the other couples. The scores were out of 90 and all 4 couples scored within 3 points of each other. We were unfortunately at the bottom. Good food. Good company. Good fun.
• One Mother turned 70. An event worthy of much celebration and a headstand by the birthday gal.
• One beach holiday included approximately 10x as much alcohol as the other.
• We swam at the beach in only one of the countries. No prizes for guessing which.
• We met the youngest of our siblings' 13 children for the first time, and missed seeing the eldest as he's away adventuring on his gap year after finishing high school with very impressive scores.

Naturally, every one we met down under wanted to know what life was like here. I'm not sure I shared many positive thoughts about our experience, if any. In that, I'm sure I did this country and her people an injustice. It is much easier to think of and express those things I find difficult, sad. frustrating and infuriating than to talk of those that I've appreciated, enjoyed or celebrated. So, here are a few, in memory of our first year in 'Siberia'.

• The local people are very generous towards one another with their possessions and money, even in their own difficult circumstances. 
• I've had a growing fascination with the items that are sold at intersections in our city. Those I can recall include:

• various kinds of fruit, clothes drying racks, toy tuk tuks
• a coat stand
• a whip (I thought it was for the donkeys, but our house helper reported that they are for household use i.e. wives and children)
• rugs of all sizes, including ones which would cover the majority of the floor space in our house
• children's clothing in every shape, colour and size, and consistently with misspelled English phrases
• an electric iron and kettle
• a machete (I was in a local taxi when I was first offered one. I said a bad word in my shocked exclamatory question about what I would do with a machete, and my taxi driver who, until then, had not said or acknowledged one word of English laughed out loud).
• a Sudanese passport cover (He has been tempted to buy one of these)
• a V slicer for vegetables in multiple brands and colours
• a battery-operated guitar with coloured flashing lights
• wind wipers (they appear every time it rains)
• a fishing rod

• Unlike all other local foods that I have tried, the fish served in many local restaurants is absolutely delicious. It's usually deep fried and prepared as a whole fish or filleted pieces, crumbed. It's served with a plate of raw onion, some green leaves that look like spinach and taste like grass, an extremely hot but addictive chilli paste, lemon wedges and wads of hot bread. It's served on a large platter and everyone eats from the one dish with their right hand. The restaurants are often open air, scented with a local perfumed smoke, complete with mist-spraying fans and local music. Lovely.
• A byproduct of living in the "country that fun forgot" (His term), it has been special to have so much 1:1 time as a couple in our first year or so of marriage. There are parts of the week when nothing can be done other than being at home, enjoying a cup of coffee, our favourite music, our books, or a TV show at our home cinema.
• The many weekend afternoons we've spent at an international hotel swimming pool where we have a membership, chatting with friends, meeting new people in the pool, reading books, drinking litres of cold water, enjoying the 'cool' 32 degrees in the pool.

He says, "Rabbit surveys and the relief of winter..."

Two wonderful examples of Siberian English (Siblish?) that I have seen this week.

The first is from my wonderful WASH (Water and Sanitation) Adviser who is 60+ and suffers from poor eye sight and is deaf as a door nob.  He sent me an email with a  very detailed assessment of the water and sanitation indicators for two localities we are hoping to work in. However,  the document is entitled 'Rabbit Survey'. I am fairly sure he meant rapid.

The second came from a government agency inviting me for a meeting tomorrow to discuss "relief of winter." I am chuffed that they think that my organisation and other INGOs (International Non Government Organisations) control the passing of the seasons. Or, maybe they are concerned that the affects of global warming are yet to sufficiently present themselves in Siberia?  I am thinking of putting them in touch with Tony Abbott.  I suspect that winter relief will not be required. The current cold snap is due to pass in the next few days and we will return to our balmy winter days with highs of 30 degrees. That will be' winter relief' to the many who are not enjoying single digit temperatures during the night.

He says...Did we land in Siberia?

We have returned from the antipodes. We landed back in Siberia at 12:15pm on 8 January 2015, exactly one year to the day of our arrival here. It's good to be back but it's cold! Maybe we are in Siberia? It was 8 degrees yesterday at 11am. I was wearing three layers of clothes. It reached a top of 22 degrees late in the afternoon. Tomorrow is supposed to be 17 degrees... I imagine that all the staff at work will be wearing gloves, beanies and jackets. We will need plenty of hot tea.