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.
