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.

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....