alexdoestheworld

2009-10-21T13:16:00.000-07:00

Ethiopia – 17-30th October 2009

After over four years of working for the International NGO community, I was eventually heading to Ethiopia. I had somehow managed to miss visiting our biggest country office (both at Save the Children UK and Save the Children US) and the fifth worst country in terms of the Human Development Index. In some ways I can see how the HDI “award” has been awarded, but after my first day in Addis Ababa, the capital, I soon changed my mind.

Day 1
Arriving into Bole International Airport was easy enough. Tourist visa on arrival was easily and quickly obtained (no questions asked), despite the scare stories of strict immigration requirements and long queues. Then again, I did arrive at 130am on a Saturday morning, in the dark and cold. Yes, the cold! Addis Ababa is Ethiopia’s (latest) capital and the 3rd highest capital in the world. Not exactly fitting with the images of famine and drought broadcast round the world by Live Aid! For once, no-one was there with a Save the Children placard with my name on it. Cold, dark, tired, middle of the night, Ethiopia! I managed to make my way to the Dagem Milennium Hotel, where an Ambien and melatonin sent me off to la-la land at 3am.

Day 2
After an early rise (8am) and a quiet and pleasant Saturday in “the office”, or the Ethiopian equivalent of a rondavel / hut, we headed out to a traditional dinner accompanied with a range of regional dancing at a local Ethiopian restaurant. A number of things struck me from the outset: this was no normal tacky touristy affair – but a genuinely atmospheric place crammed with locals who were enjoying the local food and dancing just as much as the dancers on stage. Injeera (the local bread-style staple food) here is recommended, as is the tej (honey wine) after a few, and the coffee, popcorn and incense at the end is a must. Music and entertainment was almost hypnotic, and the “up-for-it” crowd made it an experience never to forget. One thing that I didn’t expect, however, was the style of music…. Not “out of Africa” as much as Arabian nights. Nevertheless, a genuinely and traditionally entertaining night to remember.

Day 3
After breakfast, first stop was the Pharmacy. Previous trips in Sub-Saharan Africa were more than successful for stockpiling controlled substances J. However after some negotiation, it became apparent there was some level of control in place in Ethiopia – or Addis, at least. I left empty handed. Nothing but antibiotics. My hopes and future “state of mind” dashed. L

The menu for the day included the Ethnological Museum, an over-hyped museum in Addis (albeit set in beautiful grounds) and the National Museum – home of Lucy, a fossilized hominid midget and at one time our oldest ancestor, proving Africa and Ethiopia was the new ‘cradle of civilization”. After an exciting and beautiful drive up to the Holy trinity Cathedral, as gentle, religious Ethiopian Orthodox (fellow) Christians of all shapes and sizes flocked towards the grand and ornate gates at the entrance to the well-kept grounds inside, our entry was “interrupted” by an overactive “jobsworth” security guard who was asking us for money. Money?! In a Church!? But I am a Christian, I protested. Nevertheless, I was a foreigner first and foremost and I couldn’t enter the Church! Not without paying. After numerous renditions (in front of a gathering crowd) of “I’m a Christian – This is the house of my God – This is not Christian behavior – I want to speak to the priest – Even….That’s not nice” – my efforts proved fruitless… even after a discussion with the guard’s “master” and the Church administration! Disappointed (but calmed by a gentle Christian soul who engaged us” we left. Sunset in Addis Ababa is worth seeing from the Top View – however have drinks in the restaurant side, which is more comfortable and cozy.

Home of coffee. Chat, injeera (socks)

Day 5
Highlight of the day was, in order of importance – the Sheraton Hotel, and dinner at the Hilton! If anyone wants to live in the lap of luxury, the Sheraton Addis Ababa is the place to be. In all my travels in all the countries in the world, I would have to say this hotel was up there in the top 3. Ornate fountains, manicured gardens, professional and good looking staff and clients, 24 hour bank, travel agent and shops on-site - a genuinely global buzz. The bar at the Hilton has a great buzz for a drink, but it’s nothing compared to the Sheraton. Money is available form the ATM in both. And your best bet in Addis!

Day 6

Driving south from Addis towards Awasa is a journey – normally a 3-hour journey on a good day (and although great, we took 5). The landscape gets progressively greener as you pass into the Great Rift Valley (one of nature’s naturally stunning wonders) and towards the lakes. Lake Langano appeals to the Brits, they (Lonely Planet) say, as they can swim in the biggest cup of tea in the world – that’s a great big ol’ murky brown lake to you and I. Along the way, everyone must stop at the XX hotel, in XXX. It’s the African equivalent of a roadside diner in middle America – except this one is cool with a very art-deco interior and art-deco coffee machine. Get the fried beef, and the obligatory Macchiato. This is Ethiopia after all!

Day 7

Driving through the Great Rift Valley from Awasa to Addis….

Our objective for the night was to get some good Ethiopian Jazz music. Club Alise was recommended by the trendy, local girl in the hotel shop. The club is above the Red Bean café, which is Ethiopia’s answer to Starbucks. Music started a bit strange. Nice, but mellow. A ful Jazz band, Double Bass player, guitarist, 2 drummers – 1 conventional and 1 African, Clarinetist and a old guy who looked more like a kingpin in the Chinese mafia playing what could only be described (by me, anyway) as a Yukelele. Tempo picked up, the place became rammed with an assortment of characters, all cool, funky or eccentric looking. The highlight of the night, however (and maybe the week) was what a guy got up and started doing some, at first weird, dancing in front of the stage. I thought, “this geezer is really goint to make a fool of himself”, but just as I was about to give up hope it got more creative and turned into the funkiest and most entertaining form of Ethiopian dancing I’d see to date! It was, dare it say it, COOL, and really brought everyone up. A girl got up and joined him and it was like a routine. The staple shoulder-dancing, some spinning, head shaking and body popping, Ethiopian style, had everyone mesmerized. This free-styling hands down sh*t on the traditional yet impressive dancing from Yod Abbisynia the weekend before. I wanted to sign up for Ethiopian dance classes there and then. And have these funky people as my mates. I wish I had my camera!

Day 8 – Moving hotel and a night out on the tiles in Addis!

When staying in Ethiopia, one should consider the location of the hotel, as well as the facilities, of course. Despite having incredibly hospitable staff, the Dagem Milennium, in “Old Airport” part of town, is a 20-30 minute taxi ride away from Bole – Addis’ hip stretch of bars and restaurants. You may pay an extra $10-20 a night, however rooms are generally nicer, you will be saving both money and the hassle of haggling with taxi drivers each night back and forward, and you will avoid the exciting yet often white-knuckle experience of taking one of the old blue Ladas that call themselves taxis. At the time of leaving Addis, I was yet to confirm how all these rust-buckets (the Ladas) got themselves there from Russia. One piece of advice if you find yourself having to travel in one – try to find one with all of its rusty doors intact and able to close - Yes, I had a very close shave with death one night! Whilst turning round to speak to some colleagues in the back of the moving skip (an old school joke springs to mind: “What do you call a Lada with a sunroof?”), I leaned on the door and it sprung open as we were cruising down the busy street. Of course there are no seatbelts – so I said a quiet prayer to God that night for blessing me with quick reflexes.

Continuing the theme from the night before, we returned to Club Alise – Friday night plays host to live singers and a band, and the theme is 60s and 70s soul. Visiting Alise is a must, with its mixed and sophisticated crowd, New-Orleans-esque Jazz lounge feel and most importantly incredibly talented singers (the regular guy in his trilby hat belts out numbers by Otis Redding and the like, while being backed up by girls who look like they could have been one of the Pipettes or Supremes). The Harlem Jazz, nearby, is also a favourite for locals and foreigners alike. The night we went, there was a live male singer – again, incredibly talented – however be aware of the rife prostitution. That sweet girl dancing with you on the dance-floor may just have a pimp-mamma waiting to negotiate some sort of deal for something more than you bargained for. Mimo is the after hours place to go, which is more akin to the late night clubs you’d find in Europe or the States, and kicks off around 1am with dancing until six.

Day 9 – The Hash House Harriers

The excesses and madness of the night before ensured I slept through my alarm and missed flight to wonderful places on the Historical Circuit in the north that I had planned for 2 weeks to visit - Lalibela (with its rock-hewn churches) and Gonder (Africa’s answer to Camelot – with its dreamy castles). Waking up startled and drunk at 7am, after getting to bed at 530am, when your flight is scheduled to depart at 730am – is not the best way to start the day! That said, however, the adrenaline replaced the need for coffee to kick-start my day. My driver had been waiting downstairs since 6am, so at 710, I was in the car and on my way to the airport. God knows why: I had clearly missed my flight. A little disappointed, fragile and drunk, I arrived at the Hilton Hotel Ethiopian Airlines office to see what I could do with the rest of my weekend. It was still before 8am. Lalibela and Gonder were out of the question, and Bahir Dar (which I remembered was close to Lake Tana, the Blue Nile, countless island monasteries and only a 5-hour ride from the Simien Mountains) was not. Ethiopian Airlines were great and gave me a full refund (minus 100 birrh or about $8) and booked me on another flight that night at 830am to Bahir Dar. I had even called ahead and booked my accommodation. I was going on an adventure somewhere in the remoter parts of Ethiopia, and on my own. As excited as I was, I had to go back to bed, so the driver dropped me at the Jupiter International Hotel in Bole (recommended at $90 / night) at 9am and I slept until noon.

Not sure of what to do until my 830pm flight that evening, my colleague and I decided to go to the convening of the infamous Hash House Harriers at the Addis Hilton. For those of you who don’t know who the HHH are, visit this link (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hash_House_Harriers). In summary, they started as a group of ex-pats in Kuala Lumpur, who would meet on a Monday night to go running and sweat out the weekend’s excesses. This “detox” was generally followed by beer and mutual “piss-taking” and humiliation and turned into a social event for the expatriate community. Now there are hashes in hundreds of cities around the world, each subscribing to standard rules and procedures (mainly for entertainment) which is explained on the aforementioned link. In essence, however, people are nominates as “hares” every week and they go beforehand to leave the trail using white flour (or in this case, paper – since food is scarce in Ethiopia – wouldn’t be right really if we were wasting food for fun!), the group set out on the run, following the trail, however at certain points it (and the group) splits up and there are false trails and it’s all matter of trial and error to find the right one. This hash, at the rest points, there were condoms laid / hidden, which were to be found and collected along the trail. The winner was the one with the most condoms at the end. At the end of the run, there was beer, nominations for and humiliation of dunce of the week, introduction of new people, returning people, inappropriate jokes etc. and all involving drinking or downing beer.

Every week after convening at the Hilton hotel, this hash (group of around 40-50 locals and expats) bundle into their many cars and mini bus and drive to a different location. This week it was the Entoto Mountains in Addis. Along the way you are greeted with the sites of local villagers, tired donkeys, tired women carrying massive bales of sticks and no men, really.

Joining for the hash was a great way to meet people, and we ended up with a really good group of guys – Miriam, a girl who just moved to Addis to work for the Canadian Embassy; Bart, the Dutch renewable energy specialist working for the German Government Development wing; Robel, Ethiopian guy working for US consulate.
The people were typically an English lot, some Italians, mix of Ethiopians and expatriates. I’d recommend the hash, not just for the people but for the stunning / spectacular / breathtaking vistas and scenery that’s normally involved in running in different countries. This one involved running through woods, up hills and mountains, and across fields and dirt tracks.

The 5 star Intercontinental Hotel was holding a “get-together” on their roof-top bar and pool – free food and drink. Never think you were in Addis. Glass lift, Lobby – pretty but not most atmospheric – awful music, coffee lady with smoke. Che bar – only thing “Che’ about it was the poster – African music, dark and dingy, awful toilets.
Champions – great place, random name, given the Arabian lounge-like feel, shisha, posters of veiled women and Arabic writing / signage. Great funky music and moody lighting and pretty cool crowd. Mimos again!

Missed flight to Bahir Dar! Oops! Well worth it though.

Day 10

Drugs controlled.
Housewarming. One of the Scandinavian country’s ambassador (wont say). Chat, shisha, beers. Expand on Chat – second biggest export after coffee (unofficially it’s the 1st). Legal tho some sectors and regions – like drugs. Somalia – stories.
Ling the two with – other “less fantastic” parts of Ethiopian society. Intolerable / backwards in terms of acceptance of liberal social values – attitude to women, children homosexuality etc. still in dark ages.
This was somewhat highlighted at the same housewarming party - Jokes / soh – different – lots of jokes derogatory to women, and rape jokes – I was uncomfortable, so no wonder my poor (female) Canadian friend from the embassy left.

Day 12 - 14 – Mekele, Tigray.
Be warned, if you catch the daily flight from Addis to Mekele in Tigray, you will likely have to awake at the ungodly hour of 4am. The flight itself takes about an hour, and is quite pleasant. And Ethiopian Airlines domestic service is somewhat better than Turkish Airlines’ international service from Istanbul.

Mekele, to the north, is the capital of Tigray – home to Ethiopia’s “ruling class”. The week before my trip, I had heard a number of stories, e.g. “they account for 5-6% of the population and control the whole government” which is largely true, however for a truer and more recent picture, I’d advise….. Wikipedia or Google! As well as being the home of former kings and the ruling classes, Mekele is also a great base from which to explore the historical circuit. It’s home to some pretty amazing rock-hewn churches which probably pre-date the ones at Lalibella and, given the effort (either the long drive from town or the arduous climb up a mountain face to reach them), are more wondrous. Get a guide, is my advice. If not to find the churches, then to find the elusive priests who work the field but hold the keys.

Aksum, to the north of Mekele – was once the capital of Ethiopia - home to Ark of the Covenant – Queen of Sheba. Etc.

The Aksum Hotel in Mekele is the place to stay (although at 845 Birrh, it’s a bit of a rip-off. Hill View is owned by a Sheik, and the 45th richest man in the world, and offers better views. One saving grace, however is that imported wine is good, and cheaper than anywhere else in this class of hotel.

Cement factory – middle of nowhere – Limestone – destroying mountain.
Boy at school – telephone operator.
Construction. Cty involvement – quarry the stone – ferried thro mountains from quarry by us, then shaped into bricks by contractor. Shortage of timber, poorly mixed cement, late handover of pastoral lands. Kids learning in half built schools. PPL MUCH friendlier than the south.
Crazy lady. No safety net / care.
Ethiopian Calendar – 6 hours 7 years.
Camels – going to Denaki depression - …………. Rock salt!
FX rates fixed.

Visit to schools, water pumps, natural combine harvester, tef – carpet / socks / injeera, church etc. (see notebook)

Met lawyer – New NGO bill – Ngos called charities and societies – For national NGOs (even churches) if > 10 % funding comes from overseas, they are considered “international” and subject to these new provisions. Given that the Ethiopian government (or people) doesn’t exactly donate funds to charities for development work in their own country, that basically relegates them all to “international” status. The new law prohibits any advocacy or human rights work – which will have a massive impact on our programming. One might ask “Why”? Well, an election is coming up in May 2010 and given that the last election results were dubious at best and the resulting human rights abuses as the government tried to cling onto power and suppress opposition parties, they are doing everything in their power to ensure foreign forces / interests don’t interfere in their agenda of clinging to power. What that means, in reality, is that we cannot raise the population’s awareness of their basic human rights and minimum things to expect in a democratic election. Keeping people ignorant – keeps them powerless. Only thing we can do is wait and see. However one thing is certain - the future of Ethiopia in terms of

2009-09-03T15:24:00.000-07:00

Israel and Occupied Palestinian Territories (West Bank / Gaza) – 8-16 Aug 2009

Arrived at Ben Gurion Airport after a MARATHON flight from Jakarta – Singapore – London – Tel Aviv. Met Jo in London and we got the flight together but was no point in sleeping as we were arriving at 5am, which was actually 430am.

Arrived and was warned that we would be questioned to death, given we were planning on going into Palestine – or West bank and Gaza. Plus the fact I had Afghan, Somali, Malian, Jordanian, Egyptian, Sudanese and a number of Indonesian visas to mention but a few, in my passport. As expected, Jo was approved and my passport was taken away and I was asked to go to the questioning room. As we sat there prepared for the grilling, and as Jo was giving me a pep-talk, the Israeli authorities came in and called my name. With no questioning, I was given a gate pass to leave and enter Israel. Woo-hoo! I have always wanted to come here.

Waited for our driver, and when he finally arrived (me high on life and awake), we got in the car and headed for Jerusalem where we were staying. On arrival, at 6am, I realized how small this much fought over piece of the world was. We drove into a Cathedral (St Georges), which looked like it pre-dated Christ. It was stunning. And this was where we were staying. Check-in, bit of work, sleep for an hour then we were off out to explore the old town of Jerusalem…….

Walked to the Damascus gate, a hive of activity, and entered what I was told was the Christian or Jewish quarter, but it was Arab all the way, which I loved! The market was amazing. I was in my element. Jo and I meandered through the winding streets, meeting the most interesting people and stopping off at all the stalls and shops. The ambience and people were amazing. Lunch in an ancient building, chatted to a carpet and jewellery salesman who was really interesting, making a living as an Arab Israeli, and studying Political Science. He’d been to my country. One of the lucky ones I guess who can actually leave. L Also spent time with an Armenian picture and print salesman who I winded up going back and buying 2 posters from: Visit Palestine!!! Controversy, I await!

After an age of relaxed and chilled wandering, we reached the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. WOW!!!! The “Mecca” of Christianity and a pilgrim’s dream! I realized for the first time why everyone was fighting over this Holy Land. Jerusalem is a crazy mix of people, and races and religions. Add the religious pilgrims / tourists in there and it’s a vibrant melting pot. The church itself contains (remarkably, all in one place!!!! :-/) The hill where Christ was crucified, the stone that he was laid and washed on and the tomb he was buried in. The church / chapel where al this is contained is split (randomly, and after much fighting and squabbling) between the Coptics, Orthodox and Armenians. The different parts of the chapel that they have been allocated are not co-ordinated, and are so different in style and gregariousness….. it’s alarming. I don’t think they even co-ordinate their rituals and services, with men / priests running around, banging things, lighting things, chanting things, and smoking out the place. Aside from all the pomp and circumstance, it was a pretty amazing and impressive place. Especially when you consider the history! My religious teachings and knowledge of the bible came flooding back. I started to want to read more….. about the life of Jesus! It really started to hit home for the first time in my life, regardless of what anyone’s point of view on Christianity is, that this was a man that actually existed. He was born in Bethlehem, lived as a simple man who moved masses of people to believe there was a better life for them, he died on the cross. He also started the world’s largest religion, and shaped many conscious, cultures, countries, and conflicts! Everyone should go, just to se what a “show” it has become, and if you get over that… you might even get a bit closer to relating to what is actually told in the New Testament.

On for a walk around the market, visited the wailing wall (considered now to be a wall on the outer complex of Herod’s temple, I think) on the Jewish Sabbath (Sat) and watched them all pray, stopped for Shisha and beer at Damascus gate, after buying some tacky religious souvenirs of course, and it was back to the St George’s Cathedral and then Legacy hotel with our Country Director, for our drinks and chat about how horrific the state of the Palestinian cause is! It was the beginning of our first on-the ground glimpse of the way the Israeli forces discriminate openly against innocent people. In fact earlier that day, a European guy with his 2 friends from Germany (with EU ID) was told he wasn’t getting in to the sites, simply because he had an Arab name. Adding insult to injury, we offered our passports, and they looked at us and just waved us on, saying “no need”, in front of this poor guy!

Day 2 in Jerusalem – Breakfast at hotel, security briefing from Wael at 10am, and meeting with Iskandar at Legacy for an hour and half. After some lunch where we looked out over the stunning Holy City, we got our taxi to Ramallah in the West Bank. After passing the checkpoint and “the wall” I decided to take out my passport and realized that I hadn’t had my passport stamped at immigration when I landed in Tel Aviv. SH*T!!! I was in Israel (or now West Bank) without a legitimate Israeli visa….. I was crapping myself over being stopped on the way back into Israel / Jerusalem from Palestinian Territories and deported! Luckily I wasn’t. After visiting the office, we were left in a Palestinian café on the street alone, waiting for the taxi for over an hour. The idea of it made me nervous as hell, but that soon passed. I was liking Ramallah! I couldn’t believe how developed it was, how trendy and beautiful the people were, and how cool the coffee shops were. I hear it’s not the same in other parts of the West Bank, but Ramallah was great!

The evening consisted of dinner in the American Colony Hotel. It has a lovely garden, nice drinks, and is the place where all the expats hang out, especially INGO workers and journalists.

Day 3 – Entered into the West Bank – Ramallah – yet again for a full day of work. Lunch in the office was interesting. Listening to everyone’s stories how they are trapped there, don’t have the right ID, can’t visit their families in the Gaza strip, or outside of West Bank, and are not permitted to leave. A lovely girl from Gaza (Lama) told me stories of how Hamas burned out her parent’s theatre in Gaza, how she couldn’t go back, or leave Ramallah, or even get caught at a checkpoint in Ramallah, as she would be deported / transferred to Gaza, and she’d be trapped in that devastated prison too. Everyone had stories like this. Sad! So very sad!

Dinner tonight was in the Jerusalem Hotel, which had great atmosphere, nice food, good middle-eastern live music outside in the garden…. You definitely have to visit this place if you ever go to Jerusalem. Very cool!

Day 4 – GAZA! Awoke after a rough night’s sleep. Even though I was more or less packed the night before, and got up 40 minutes before, I was still a few minutes late for the 630am taxi. At 625am, Jo was in and shimmying me along. We left at 635am. Maybe 637am! Stopped off 5 minutes before the Erez crossing to get a coffee at a lovely little coffee shop in the middle of nowhere – Cup-o-Joe’s. I thought this would be our last for a couple of days. Gladly not!

Reaching the border crossing was strange. An airport-like fortress in the middle of nowhere. It was eerily quiet, with a gypsy-traveller looking woman outside.

Day 6
1030am - I write this whilst sitting at Eretz Crossing, on the Gaza / Israeli border. After what must be the most impressive security procedures in the world. A brief description: you drive from Gaza to the north of the strip, towards the Eretz crossing. First, you have to go through the Hamas checkpoint, in order to leave Gaza. Then you drive a bit towards no-man’s land to the Fatah (Palestinian Authority) checkpoint. See, although Fatah are not in power in Gaza, but in West Bank, the Israeli authorities will not speak to Hamas, therefore Hamas let Fatah be between them to do the coordination. So… the driver takes our passports in so that Fatah can notify the Israeli authorities that we are coming, while we wait outside in the baking sun with all the poor Palestinian souls hoping to get permission to cross. Really the only way you’re getting out is if you are a foreigner, or is you are dying (or if your kid is dying). On leaving the Fatah checkpoint in Gaza, you’re on your own. You walk across this wide barren desert landscape with the huge concrete wall ahead of you, with watch towers and cameras all the way along it. There’s a concrete tunnel you then pass through, then you’re walled and fenced in until you reach the end of the passage. There are 3 concrete doors in a concrete wall, numbered 1, 2 and 3 with green and red lights on them. There were loads of Palestinians there, waiting. It felt like we were in a cage. So, we plonked our bags on the ground and sat down and waited. Whilst we waited, we met 2 Palestinian boys, with luggage. I saw that one of them had an American visa in his passport. People are not allowed to leave so I was intrigued. One of them started speaking to us, and that kicked off the conversation. They were on their way to the USA. They’d won an International Scholarship from the US Department of State that promotes understanding among different cultures. On the Israeli side, the American Consul was waiting on them in cars to take them straight to Jordan where they could leave from.

Eventually one of the doors’ lights turned from red to green, the concrete door slid open and everyone started channeling through. On the other side a Palestinian man in Israeli vest was checking the bags. Then we were cleared to pass to the first of the many metal turnstiles ahead of us. You wait for the light to turn green then you go through the turnstile. You walk 50m ahead, turn to the right, then there are 3 more turnstiles, al red. You queue for a bit, whilst the light turns green and little by little we all trickle through. While waiting in this line, we met a lovely well-dressed Palestinian woman with a tiny 2 year old boy, Omar in her arms. Omar was sick. He had liver problems, and he was going to Jerusalem to hospital. The only problem was that Omar couldn’t be cured. They can’t do it in Israel or Gaza, and they don’t have the money for the operation. So his mother has been told that she should wait for Omar to die. She was so ??????? about it, smiling, but sad. Despite all the devastation and stories I’d heard in the past few days, this was the first time I started welling up. I had to look away and compose myself for a second. Then carry chatting to the other people in the queue.

Light turns green, we go through. This all looks like an airport by the way. We turn left, empty our bags and electrical equipment into boxes, and it goes off on a conveyor belt! Now it’s a series of glass doors, all locked with the same red lights. Off into the distance through all the glass, you can see a control room high above you, where the Israelis are sitting. Note that no Israelis have been personally present until now. Through one door, then another then another. Waiting between bulletproof glass walls each time. Then we reach the body scanner. The doors open, you step in, put your feet on the footholds, your arms in the air, the door closes, then the scanner does a 360 round your body. Before us was a mother and small son, with cataracts, leaving to go to Israel for medical treatment to try and save his eyesight. He and his mother spoke no English. They step into the scanner, and the Israeli security start saying something in Hebrew through the intercom. They can’t understand. Jo and I eventually ask what they are saying in English and they tell us. It’s one at a time. We take the boy out and try to calm him down. The mother stands inside the scanning cubicle, but the doors don’t close. She isn’t standing right, and has to open her legs. Again, the control room way off in the distance start saying something. She doesn’t understand. We translate when they tell us in English. She stands as directed, with open legs, the doors close, she’s scanned and cleared and the doors on the other side open, she steps out and they close again. There are now 2 bullet-proof doors between her and her petrified and bewildered son. The doors on our side open and we go into the scanner with the boy. We make him open his legs and stand on the footholds. He wont let go of his trousers. We try and eventually get him to hold his hands in the air, then step out of the machine while it takes a 360 scan of him. He’s cleared and the doors on the other side open and he’s re-joined with is mother.

It only took 2.5 hours to go through Security. Now I have been standing at the Border Security Station, where I have been questioned and asked for loads of information for the last 40 minutes. I have a number of dodgy stamps in my passport, including Afghanistan, therefore I have been pulled aside and am sitting here waiting to have Mossad check all my details through their systems, and probably have more questioning – along with all the other Palestinians. I’m bursting for a piss and guess what – there is no toilet!!! I’m looking at the girls in the security / immigration booths. They’re reading magazines, doing their nails and hair, and chatting on the phone. Whilst grilling me, they were chatting on the phone, swapping phones, pulling out their ear-rings and playing with them in front of me on the desk. It’s kind of funny, given what’s going on behind the scenes. Overall, though, the Israeli security / army / police were all VERY polite and nice… to me.

…………………… I eventually got released. It only took 4 hours. Everyone except me got through. While sitting there, something kicked off. Soldiers ran in from outside, started speaking into their mouthpieces, and had their rifles / guns in hand, ready to disperse. At one point they were going to evacuate me. Something was happening. I later found out that a soldier was reportedly kidnapped at a checkpoint, and the country was potentially going to go into lockdown. A full-blown lockdown didn’t follow, but checkpoints were put up everywhere and checks were stricter for the next few days. Welcome to Israel!

Got out, and jo (half way to Ramallah in the car), came back for me. Long ride back to the office where I met our lawyer, had some meetings then headed back to Jerusalem to dine at Jerusalem hotel and stay up half the night typing up my report for the next day’s debrief.

Day 7
Went back into the West Bank, spent the day tying things up and debriefed. Jo and I were DONE, so left in our car, picked up the bags at the St Georges Cathedral in Jerusalem and headed to Tel Aviv!!!

Arrived in Tel Aviv, and was blown away by how beautiful and funky the city looked. Coffee shops, restaurants, and shops galore! Eventually found and checked into the Cinema Hotel, which I highly recommend. Very central, in the shopping district, and close to beaches. Walked along the promenade towards the old town then back along the beach. Beautiful people! Packed beaches! Things I noted: people in Tel Aviv like to set up camp close to or in the water at the beach; bat and ball is huge, noisy and dangerous.

Jo and I had dinner at a Japanese restaurant on the street and a few glasses of wine! Gpt ready and headed out with Yaki to a very cool bar/restaurant whose name escapes me for champagne, then Evita, which was better than expected. Jo flagged and left and I went out to Yod then Dome with Yann and Eric, two randoms we met from Denmark in the bar. Stayed til 4 and headed home to pass out. Music was great, swimming pool, outside terrace. Muy divertido. Definitely recommend it. We met a really sweet guy at Yod who drove us in his BMW SUV to Dome, after picking up a gipsy and 2 friends, and then lost his key IN his car. That was a random sequence of events.

Day 8
A day at the beach…. We sat at Hilton beach all day, swam in the sea, which was so warm it was like having a bath. We eventually moved to the “quiet” beach (Gordon beach) in front of Chich, after drinking a bottle of wine each with lunch…. Only the quiet beach was quiet no more – all the Gs were out in force. Clearly they were nursing something from the night before when we passed that way in the morning.

Home to change, then it was off out to Jaffa / Yafo, the Old City, for dinner on a rooftop. Memorable things from the day: the hot water in the sea, the vibrancy of the Tel Aviv youth – all out in groups or couples and constantly chatting and socializing, if not in person then on the phone.

Jaffa was lovely. It had a lot of character and was more akin to being middle-eastern than anywhere we’d been in Tel Aviv. After dinner we stopped off at a bar where Jo was drooling over the bar tender, then to Chich beach for a few drinks, where the highlight, apart from being able to sit outside, was the traditional Jewish dancing, and huge line-dancing classes on the shore. The most memorable things from the rest of the night were: the sweet and pungent taste of the home-made pickled-herring that lingered; the beautiful sound that was the call to prayer from the luminous green-lit mosque whilst we sat and ate in Jaffa - the first time I have actually enjoyed it; the old male violinist with his guitar-plucking wife who were simply incredible.

Day 9 – Our last day in Israel started with a run along the promenade in the morning, followed by breakfast, a bit of shopping, lunch and coffee. Easy day!!! Then it was Ben-Gurion bound for us where we were quizzed and checked inside out by security at the airport. Very professional and polite, and thorough as hell – once again, impressive!

2009-04-03T23:54:00.000-07:00

AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND - DEC 08

2009-04-03T23:52:00.000-07:00

MALAWI - MARCH 09

2009-04-03T23:51:00.000-07:00

SOUTH AFRICA - MARCH 09

2009-04-03T23:50:00.000-07:00

MEXICO - LOS CABOS - FEB 09

2008-12-11T04:23:00.000-08:00

Philippines - December 2008

The background bit – a very brief synopsis
History - The Philippine Islands became a Spanish colony during the 16th century (so Tegalog / Felipino is basically a mixture of Bahasa / Malay and Spanish languages); they were ceded to the US in 1898 following the Spanish-American War. In 1935 the Philippines became a self-governing commonwealth. Manuel QUEZON was elected President and was tasked with preparing the country for independence after a 10-year transition. In 1942 the islands fell under Japanese occupation during WWII, and US forces and Filipinos fought together during 1944-45 to regain control. On 4 July 1946 the Philippines attained their independence. In 1992, the US closed its last military bases on the islands, but left a lasting imprint, in terms of the legal and political systems and the common use of the English language. Joseph ESTRADA was elected president in 1998, but was succeeded by his vice-president, Gloria MACAPAGAL-ARROYO, in January 2001 MACAPAGAL-ARROYO was elected to a six-year term in May 2004 and so serves as President now.

Politics - The Philippine Government at the moment faces charges of corruption, and more importantly faces serious threats from armed communist insurgencies and from Muslim separatists / terrorists in the south (more details below…. we work in the armed areas and when duty calls…. Alex responds!).

People in the Philippines are incredibly friendly and sweet. Their reputation for such qualities is deserved. As lovely as this is though, it's not good in the work-place.... as being perceived to be nice and being liked often takes precedence / priority over good management! As I was soon to discover in my 2 week whirlwind tour!!!

Sunday 30th Nov 08 – Thanks be to God (or Qantas) for upgrading me on the flight from London to Hong Kong. With almost no sleep in the preceding 2 nights, the long flight could have been what nightmares are made of. The stopover in Hong Kong brought back fond memories of our flight to Sydney for Mardi Gras in February earlier this year. The Cebu Pacific flight onward to Manila was severely lacking in leg room (fly Cathay is my advice and intention from here on in), but thankfully dozed (in and) out of consciousness the whole way there…. Checked into the Millennium Heritage Hotel (nice) and basically slept until next day.

Mon 1st - Wed 3rd December – Worked from our Manila office. Met the new Country Director again (last time was India after the Tsunami) and the rest of the staff. Highlights of these 3 days (except for the work, of course) was (and in no particular order): Starbucks (a saving grace given my distorted body clock), discovering Mall of Asia (the king of all shopping malls in Asia), and strolling along the promenade before eating freshly cooked seafood, which we had just chosen from the fish market. Lo-lights – trying to stay awake and fight my body’s desire to operate on a different time-zone than the one I am currently in.

Thursday 4th Dec – Caught my morning flight to Iloilo, the capital of the West Visayas with Daryll. Airport was modern and efficient. On arrival at the SC office (to a welcoming committee, banner and all, bless!), had a security and program briefing with the staff and lunch with them all in the office. On hearing I like seafood, they had arranged a seafood buffet. I was to eat nothing but seafood for the next couple of days. Which may have been a good thing, or not…..

After lunch, we headed out to the field to visit some of our programs in the Maasin. We first visited Sponsorship-funded programs in a school. A children’s workshop was taking place for Ambassador children (ones who had been identified as ambassadors as part of our sponsorship program) so we observed that for a while and spoke to the children. We then were shown round the school, met our coordinators there and the teachers, before meeting the Principal, a really sweet, short, old Philippino woman. We were phasing out of the community there in a few months, after being there for years so it was a difficult time but the community and school were great about it. They showed me the classrooms SC had built, the furniture and books we donated, and explained the programs we had initiated with the community. What struck me was that the children there were incredibly happy, and extremely well-behaved. The school was a tranquil space, with a huge Acacia tree in the courtyard, coconut and Mahogany trees everywhere (seedlings donated 15 years prior by the Japanese government) and different gardens for different subjects (a Math garden, a Science garden etc.), making learning an enjoyable and beautiful experience. It made me want to re-take all my school years again and leave behind the memories of concrete playgrounds and bricks and mortar. We were then invited in to eat “snacks” which became a full spread, and chat about the area, the community, the challenges and successes the school faced. The principal was good quality as we joked around about her being the newly throned queen of the school.

Our next stop was another school, where we responded to their needs that were created after Typhoon Frank, which flooded their communities and schools, washed out and destroyed all the furniture, ruined their irrigation and sewerage systems, making water and sanitation an issue as well as provision of materials. Again, peaceful, pretty, tranquil spaces and classes were found. Although classes were combined in this primary school (grades 1 and 2 together and 3 and 4 together). The day we visited, only one teacher was teaching both the classes, running between them. I remember noting how incredibly well-behaved the children were and later retracting that thought as I caught them being mischievous when the teacher wasn’t around! Beautiful children though, and all giving off such a happy vibe (as most children do, I suppose).

We left the school and crossed the river before it got any deeper in the afternoon rains and headed back through the lush tropical and populated countryside back to Iloilo, stopping at a couple of churches along the way, including our lady of the Candeleria. Dinner that night was a seafood bonanza again, but was a struggle for me given my deteriorating state of consciousness and wellness. However the people of Panay island and Iloilo are lovely and made it all the more easy for me to sit through and enjoy.

Friday 5th Dec – Woke up feeling awful. Tired, nauseous, and with a splitting headache! My stomach isn’t that great either with cramps and the slow onset of non-Delhi Delhi belly. Work will be a struggle. Got through the morning, with the aid of drugs, and had another seafood lunch, then it was back to the hotel to rest for a couple of hours before going back to work. Sleep was not happening but returned to work feeling a tad better and finished off by 6pm. Retired that night, knowing I had a marathon drive to the white-sanded, tropical paradise island of Boracay the following morning at 6am.

Saturday 6th Dec – Slept all the way through the night for the first time in over a week! Happy days! Well, didn’t wake up at 2am or 4am, but 5.30am, a reasonable hour for me at the minute. Stomach started playing up and cramping so a light breakfast then we were off.

I love travelling through SE Asia. It reminded me of my first real experience living and travelling abroad (SE Asia), when I studied and worked in Singapore and spent a lot of time in Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia and Laos). The sun, the rain, the humidity, the smells, the palm trees (short and tall), the intricately beautiful rice paddies being worked by the locals, the bicycles, tuk-tuks and motos overloaded with people, the vast array of tiny stalls on the side of the road selling whatever they can to make a living, the children playing on the roads and in the fields, the dogs, the chickens, the cows and everything else that makes SE Asia what it is…. There’s so much life and natural beauty in this part of the world. It made me smile as I listened to my recently retrieved ipod-touch all the way to Boracay (like the juxtaposition there? – and it wasn’t even intentional)!

Arrived in Caticlan and were greeted by our private bus to take us to our private boat with stabilizers (or barca) across the choppy waters to Boracay and Fridays resort. Being choppy, it was not the day for the planned island-hopping and snorkeling, sadly, so chilling on the beach was on the cards instead.
Arriving at the jetty and driving through the only road through the centre of the island, the signs of development were evident. Boracay started as a backpacker’s destination, along the lines of Ko Phi Phi Leh in Thailand, as portrayed in “The Beach”. It used to take days to reach, via planes, public jeepneys and boats, and on arrival you’d be greeted with a sight massively different to what you see now: dserted beaches, a town that was under-developed, traditional, basic, and sparsely populated. Now it’s a whole different story: resorts popping up everywhere, a shopping mall, building sites, scores of small boats arriving daily and teaming with tourists, nightclubs, restaurants, bars etc. It is a real and proper tourist resort these days, on par with those al over Thailand, or Spain for that matter. That said, you can still get your own little bit of paradise. We eventually arrived at Fridays Resort after driving through the main street (or only / principal street). The service from pick-up to drop-off was impeccable. We were greeted with refreshing drinks, a necklace of shells, and friendly resort staff. After check-in, we were shown to our thatched-roof, bamboo cottages, which were naturally-inspired, eco-friendly yet palacial inside. The hammock on my veranda was welcomed later that day for lazing in the afternoon sun. The best was yet to come, though…..

The beach itself was stunning!!!!! It was truly paradise. White clear sands, crystal clear blue-hewn waters, an abundance of palm trees, coconut shells…..! I understand why it is always ranked as one of the world’s most beautiful beaches. It had the perfect mix of the rugged, natural, deserted beaches you find all over Asia and the flat-seabed, white sand and clear water appeal of the Maldives. The sand is unlike any other: it stays cool to the touch even in the mid-day sun, apparently due to the fact it’s evolved from crushed shells and sea coral over the millennia. It is so fine it is like salt. I was feeling rather ill, but the sight and sounds of the beach soon made me forget that.

From Fridays you can walk along the beach and as you do it get’s more developed, crowded and commercial. Beach-front bars and restaurants are everywhere, Club Paraw and Café del Mar appeal to the party-going clubbers among us, water-sports (sailing, paragliding, SCUBA-diving, jet-skiing) are offered at every stretch! The local boys show-off, surfing across the shallow waters of the beach on thin little boogie boards, trying to out-do each other, and the token masseuses linger under the trees offering their services for a few hundred pesos. So there really is something for everyone in Boracay! And I would definitely recommend a visit.

Sunday 7th Dec – Woke up and had breakfast alfresco after a mellow and reflective stroll along on the white sandy beach. Learned something new and amusing today – the legal age of consent in Philippines is 18 for women…. And 21 for men!!!! Why, you ask? Because women mature earlier than men! Vixens I say! Fair enough, but so much for equality in the eyes of the law, eh?! Flew back to Manila on PAL Express – bumpy ride. Decided to chill at the Heritage and catch up on emails / blog / work. Lazy Sundays are good.

Monday 8th Dec – Up at 4 am. Why, god? Flew from Manila (on a jumbo jet) to General Santos (or Gensan as the locals call it) airport in South Mindanao, the island region of the Philippines with the terrorist Muslim separatist movement, MILF. 3 days prior to arriving there was a bomb blast in this area so a little apprehension is felt, but nothing major. Airport was tiny and overcrowded. Had breakfast and coffee (stomach is obviously on the mend) at MacGregors, a rip-off of Starbucks but a pretty good one. Drove (or raced, really) an hour to Koronadal and our program office there. Had a great meeting with the lovely staff of that office who explained all the development issues there (half of kids not attending school, health issues etc.) and also the challenges we face (remote areas, someone circulating a letter to local communities stating that we work for the CIA and are using children to obtain info). Laughable! After picture taking and fond goodbyes, we were on the road with bags of burgers and fries and coke from the Philippino McDonalds (Jollibee). Arrived in Cotabato after a pleasant 3 hour drive through the Philippine countryside to “the best hotel in Cotabato”. I soon made new friends with the 2 cockroaches in my room and look forward to going upstairs now to see if they have invited any friends over to stay the night. Wish me luck!

Tuesday 9th Dec
Woke up, glad to leave the hotel from hell. $50 for a hovel! Disgusting! And that was the high end! Anyway, worked with the very young, and energetic and “sensitive and open” emergency team. Productive day. Forming stereotypical views on Philippino men as the days go by, their mannerisms and the way they interact, all based on today’s discussions. Met Nacho from SC Spain, who woke from his slumber and wandered into the office in his pyjamas like it was nothing….. how Spanish! Haha!

Left and headed for the coastal and more trendy and cosmo city of Davao….. Relative civilization was welcomed. As was the plush beach resort hotel that ended up charging us LESS than the cockroach infested sweat box we stayed in the night before…… Where is the logic? Good food and a couple of drinks on the boat bar and it was off to bed, but not after delivering a few home truths to my Philippino colleague, who we “made upset”. I felt a awful…..

Wednesday 10th Dec
After driving us to the office, Julius, our hilarious driver, left us to travel back to Koronadal. But not without a parting cheeky photo! Spent a great day with the lovely staff at the office. Had seafood for lunch (again!). Felt the Xmas spirit in the humid Asian heat for the first time as the lights and decorations of the office overwhelmed me as I was leaving the office. They really are Catholic and proud here….. Off to the shitty airport where I was told I was the double of a famous Philippino actor (Uma? – which is also an Indian woman’s name)…. I’m told that’s a compliment, but on review of the pics…. I aint so sure it is. Never mind… home to Manila and the lovely Heritage Hotel…. Hah! Or so I thought! After 1.5 hours cooking on the plane and listening to the wrangling of the Cargo door, we were kicked off the flight to spend the night in the gate…. Well, the other few hundred did… we left and got our driver out of bed to pick us up and take us to a random tacky Chinese hotel in the city where we came across a pretty cool (and ridiculously cheap – 10 drinks for $10) lounge bar in the basement where Philippinos were dancing the night away to Latin music (Salsa, cha-cha-cha, meringue, tango even). They were taking it so seriously that I wondered if some were professionals (some were amazing)! Certainly some of the boys were “professionals”, boogying and woo-ing the grannies on the dance floor. It was all a little strange and creepy, but an experience in itself.

Thursday 11th Dec
Went to check out after what amounted to a power-nap, had breakfast and was charged for having “one additional pax no breakfast” (hotel-speak for prostitute or “friend”, I think) in my room. Chance would be a fine thing, but alas no!! I was appalled, affronted, angry, and amused all at the same time. The housekeeper apparently accused me. Haha. I saw no housekeeper! Anyway…. Flight left at 730 and was in my room in Manila by 1030am showering, shaving and eating before leaving to meet SC Sweden! Relaxed day! Sydney is coming…. 2 days and counting!!!!

2008-07-02T21:25:00.000-07:00

Bolivia - June 08

For a brief history of Bolivia, from the ancient civilizations of the Tiwanaku and the Incas to the Spanish invasion and conquest in 1531 to the long hard fight for independence, won in 1824, and the subsequent in-fighting to date (Although Bolivia has entered an unprecedented era of political stability, it follows a record of 192 coups in the 156 years from independence to 1981)............ buy a book!
Joke!!!
The Bolivian’s endless fight to win and keep their land mirrors the Bolivians' fight to preserve their traditions, such as the Pachamama ('Mother Earth'); shrines to her are found everywhere, and Bolivia is thought to be the birthplace of the Sun and the Moon (according to the Incas). 'Mother Earth', fittingly, is kind in return: Bolivia is beautiful and striking; there are currently 10 national parks and eight protected areas. Although Bolivia is landlocked (resulting from a defeat in a war with Chile in which it swiped Bolivia’s access to the sea), it never feels claustrophobic – blessed with breathtaking lakes and lofty mountains. Standing as tall as the mountains, the Bolivians’ pride for their homeland is always evident – and always justified.

Day 1 – After a marathon journey from Guatemala to San Jose, Costa Rica, to Lima, Peru, to La Paz, Bolivia, arrived at the 5* Camino Real Hotel at 130am. We descended from the airport, high up on the mountain, into the valley below, almost a thousand metres, or 3000 feet, in 20 minutes. We are still way up high in the mountains at 11000 feet. On arrival, was offered coca tea at the hotel. Everyone here is on it, it seems, to combat the effects of the altitude and provide oxygen to the blood. Hotel room / suite is lush! No real effects from Altitude sickness yet.

Day 2 – Could not get out of bed this morning. I can’t tell if it’s the altitude sickness or the amazingly comfortable bed. Didn’t move from the room all day, as had no energy and dozed in and out of consciousness all day. Eventually showered at 7pm and we headed out to a Japanese restaurant where the food was cheap and delicious. Early to bed tonight. Altitude sickness (if I even have it) should be better tomorrow.

Day 3 – It’s confirmed, I am sleeping in the comfiest bed in the world. I didn’t want to get out of bed, but room service arrived at 650 so had to get up. I looked in the mirror this morning. I have pale skin, no teeth and yellow eyes (OK, I have teeth). Enchanting, I hear you say. Somewhat different! Yes. But a little “Evil dead” too! Coffee and coca tea get me through the morning. The drive to the office through La Paz was incredible. The city really is slap bang in the middle, high up in the mountains. The scenery is stunning, the air (semi)fresh, but for the pollution. Pedestrians and vehicles fight for the roads, and neither gives a flying &*%$ about the other. Accidents are commonplace. One thing that strikes me about Bolivia (or La Paz, at least) is that it has a lot more natural character to it than Guatemala. The buildings have more character, the buzz is more enticing and the people who wear indigenous dress are not just a small minority doing so for the benefit of the tourists. People here actually wear what appears to me as “costumes”, consisting of big puffy skirts and dresses, waistcoats, colourful wraps, cute little shoes and with funny little hats to boot: Like they just stepped out of a South American version of a cuckoo clock. The people have so much character in their faces and can probably tell a heart-breaking story or 500, but they also have an inviting warmth that enchants you and leaves you wanting to discover more. That afternoon we were heading to El Alto, almost another 100m / 300 ft higher, to visit a joint SC and local Mayor’s office food distribution to the local community. Basically a community was being paid food for work, but work that benefits themselves and their communities. We (SC) form community groups and appoint leaders to manage and co-ordinate the projects. These projects may range from building and paving the roads in their areas to agricultural activities for food security to planting trees. The local administration provides the materials to work and we provide the incentive. We arrive at the community centre (a big warehouse of sorts) after navigating our way through the maze of streets that form the recently established and sprawling metropolis (can you polish a turd?) of El Alto. Again, costumes everywhere. And covers or wraps forming bags over the shoulder. This whole community is out in force waiting to receive the payment of food (flour, wheat, soy, beans, oil) for the road they had built in their community. We enter, are greeted like dignitaries, which is a little embarrassing, and after some speeches thanking the local community and thanking SC and our director, we speak to the monitors, witness the food distribution and finally, are treated to a feast as heads of the table. It is customary for everyone to bring something to the table, where all the food is dumped, and everyone shares, taking a bit of everything. The food was great. Although I did find it a little ironic that we were distributing food yet here they were bringing a feast and a half for all to share. Menu varied from beans, chicken, beef, various forms of potatoes and papa derivatives, salads, sauces etc. Utensils were absent from the affair; las manos were abundant. Aside from the surprising fact that I didn’t suffer a dodgy stomach after this, other highlights were the reception and the girl(s) following me around looking at my eyes. Never had they seen eyes like mine. What can I say? I was flattered…. Well, that was until I looked into the mirror later and realized that my eyes were yellow. I am assuming it is the altitude. I am blaming everything on that these days.

2008-06-15T08:45:00.000-07:00

Guatemala - May/June 08

A very brief history - The centre of an ancient Maya civilisation, Guatemala is invaded and colonised by the Spanish early in the 16th Century, beginning a 450-year period of social and political turmoil characterised by coups, assassinations and military dictatorships.
The country proclaims its independence in 1821, but real reform is not achieved until 1944 when a civilian is elected president. The following 10 years, the so-called 'Ten Years of Spring', see the introduction of a land acquisition program designed to improve the livelihood of the landless Mayan peasantry, but at the cost of antagonising the powerful United Fruit Company. The company controls much of the agricultural land in Guatemala and has connections at the highest level in the United States Government.
The reformist government is overthrown by a Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) backed coup d'état in June 1954. The CIA's involvement includes the compilation of lists of individuals to be "eliminated", imprisoned or deported following the coup.
An outbreak of protests against the now military-aligned government in March and April of 1962 marks the beginning a 34-year civil war between leftist guerrilla groups and the government for control of the country. The Mayan peasants are caught in the middle and suffer the brunt of the violence and killings.
The military will control the government for 20 out of the next 24 years.

Week 1 – Arrived in Guatemala City on my flight from Seattle (highlights being visiting the ORIGINAL starbucks, the space needle, and visiting my long lost aunt Isobel) via Dallas, Texas, where I lose both my I-pod and my Guatemala guide I had just purchased shiny and new. Luckily at Gate 46, they have an I-pod vending machine (yes I did say that!) so in a 2 second decision as I bolted for my connecting flight, in goes the credit card and out comes a brand spanking new I-pod touch for me to play with in Guatemala.

I hate American Airlines! Never again! I’d rather swim to Guatemala next time. Cheap cheap cheapskates, who like to starve their passengers to death rather than fork out on a bag of peanuts! The first familiar thing I notice from Guatemala is the McDonalds golden arches from the air: the price of progress! Picked up by a cheerful young chap, Eddie, who drives me to my new hone and family in Antigua. Being able to communicate, badly, in Spanish along the way, I wondered how difficult this experience was going to be. Arrived at la casa and not a word of English was spoken whilst I was shown around the house by my new mama (Estela), introduced to the father (Nery) and daughter Carla and told of the elusive Faviola (older daughter who remained elusive for the rest of the stay). I was introduced to the yelping, little, irritatingly fluffy dog, Huesito, before being told where and how to pee and how to clean up if I did manage to “sprinkle” on the seat. An interesting introduction to the family I am to spend a month living with.

Day 1 at school was fine. As were days 2, 3 4 and 5. Carlos is my teacher, a nice man with little structure to his approach but patient and nice to chat to so all good. This first week I explored the city.
Antigua is a quaint little town it seems, with not too much going on at this point, but plenty of nice bars, restaurants and courtyards for relaxing/ eating/ studying in. The volcano towers above the pueblo to the south and makes a fantastic backdrop for this old colonial post in Central America. The streets are cobbled and laid out like a grid, so easy to maneuver. Iglesias are everywhere, as are the missionaries and abundance of Spanish schools that have (since the dawn of time) catered to them. And as numerous are the tour agencies that cater to the many students / backpackers and general Americans passing through. In Antigua, in invierno, days are hot, afternoons are wet and nights are cold. We are up in the highlands, don’t forget!
Places to go in Antigua – Café Condessa, an institution in Antigua with an ornate courtyard, snacks, good coffee and cakes and a great little bookshop attached. Wireless internet places where one can while the days away are Bagel Barn, Fernando’s Café and Rainbow café (this latter one having a tiny bookshop, free nightly entertainment, a good menu and friendly staff). For la cena, try La Pena de Sol Latino, for great food, relaxed atmosphere and live traditional music playing nightly. Get there early for a nice table, though! At first I was to find Antigua quiet at night, but that changed, as I discovered that there is many an option for the discerning socialite.End of week one my brain is no longer working. I forget the word for “avocado” in English. “Avocado!” I forget many more as my brain starts to collapse under the strain of not being able to communicate in the manner and a the speed at which my brain wants to. I can say no more on this, or any, matter………………………..

Week 2 – The week I nearly died! Hot water is not the norm in Guatemala. I don’ think gas combi-boilers have made it over here, so they have these electrical shower head bolt-ons, in the more affluent homes at least. Whilst showering one morning and trying to enjoy the trickle of luke warm water coming from this dodgy looking appliance with wires hanging out of it and that carried an electric current both to the metal shower tap below and also to the shower head, which electrocuted you if you put your hands in the air. Anyway there I am enjoying the trickle when there’s a sudden spark, bang and blinding flash. I jump out the shower, naked and wet, and look back. To my horror, the whole thing’s on fire, and it’s spreading along all the wires. I decide to leave the room when I inhale the burning plastic and start to cough! No coffee needed that morning to wake me up! Whitney Cesari, my new sister from Atlanta, Georgia, arrives to brighten up the house: a Georgetown graduate who’s going to Medical school in Memphis and my new companion in Antigua. I couldn’t have asked for a better / nicer person to share the experience with! The majority of this week was spent in Guatemala City in a nice hotel (Princess and recommended) where we had our Regional meeting, so 3 days of work. Lots of activity, networking, a tour round la ciudad by a local, and a drunken night out on the town. Back to Antigua for rest and relaxation. Or so I thought……

Week 3 – The week of the never-ending rain, the tail end of a Hurricane in Nicaragua, Honduras and Guatemala, and a TACA plane crash in the region - great!!! Keep bumping into this architect from England, like everywhere. So decide to hang out and have a few beers and hit the town one night, discovering the darker side of Guatemala and the after hours seen. Muy divertido!
At the end of this week, we rewarded ourselves with a trip deep into the jungles of El Petén in the north to Tikal, the largest of the ancient ruined cities of the Maya civilization and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Also met Jonathan from Texas, our new best friend and travel companion. Bused it there on the Friday night, arrived in Flores / Santa Elena having hardly slept and waited in some dodgy Café where they played Ricki Martin until we were collected and whisked away to Jungle Lodge, inside Tikal, and the best of the accommodations there. Day 1 and we visit the ruins. There are thousands of ancient structures at Tikal and only a fraction of these have been excavated after decades of archaeological work. The most prominent surviving buildings include six very large Mesoamerican step pyramids, labeled Temples I - VI, each of which support a temple structure on their summits. Some of these pyramids are over 60 meters high (200 feet) and are pretty impressive, with some great masks carved into the stones. We climbed a few structures and looked around that day. Was really quite impressive although if I have to be honest, not a patch on Petra in Jordan or the lost city of Angkor in Cambodia. I started to wonder if I was becoming desensitized to the wonder and awe of the amazing places and ancient ruins in this world, and am starting to think that I have to stop travelling to so many interesting places as I am starting to take things for granted. I want the excitement back from travelling.
Good things I take from the trip (in no particular order) - the fantastic people I met and spent it with (the above Americanos and Rana the Palestinian), the pictures I took, the Scorpion we encountered, the beetle I slept with, the day we spent above the treetops “zip-lining” in the canopy of the jungle and the scary near-death tiny plane experience back from Tikal.

Week 4 – My last week, the highlight being the hike up the active Pacaya Volcano for my first close encounter with red hot molten rock / lava.

History - Pacaya is a highly active and complex volcano in Guatemala, which first erupted approximately 23,000 years ago and has erupted at least 23 times since the Spanish conquest of Guatemala. After being dormant for a century, it erupted violently in 1965 and has been erupting continuously since then, hence the continuous stream or river of lava that is coming from it. Wow, is all I can say! My Volcano experience ten years ago in Indonesia may have been beaten! Despite the dangerousness of it all, this is a definite must. The 4 hour hike (there and back) is beautiful, but take note to do it in the morning when the weather is better. The scenery changes from lush and vegetative to barren, rocky, alien-like moonscape (is how I can best describe it) as the hardened lava rock from the steadily flowing stream gently creeps across and down the volcano creating a new shape and dimension to the volcano. I can’t explain in words how incredible this place was. You really have to see it to believe it.

2008-05-23T15:41:00.000-07:00

Afghanistan - April 2008

The history / politics / geography bit first – to set the scene, and also to get it out of the way for those of you who hated history at school! Skip past the bit in Italics if you aren’t interested, although it gives a good overview and sets the scene.

Afghanistan was created as a nation in 1747 by Ahmad Shah Durrani, with its capital at Kandahar. The country has a long history of warfare, mostly against invaders such as Alexander (the Great) of Macedon, Arabs, Turks, Mongols (Genghis Khan), Persians, and the British. Its recent history is no exception. The Soviet Union invaded in 1979, to support a local socialist government. They were forced to withdraw 10 years later by anti- Communist mujahideen rebels, who were supplied and trained by the US, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Iran and others. Fighting subsequently continued among the various mujahideen factions, giving rise to a state of warlordism. The Taliban grew out of this chaos, providing a solution to what was by this time a civil war. Backed by foreign sponsors, and inspired by a conservative sect of Islam, Taliban developed as a political force to end warlordism and bring security to the country. They eventually seized power and captured about 95% of the country, aside from some area in the northeast.

After the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the US, the Taliban refused to hand-over Osama bin Laden and Al Qaida militants. The US and allies decided to take military action with support from anti-Taliban Afghans and Pakistan's government, causing Taliban's downfall. In December 2001, representatives from all ethnic groups of Afghanistan met in Germany and agreed to form a new democratic government with Hamid Karzai as Chairman of the Afghan Interim Authority. Following a nationwide election in 2004, Hamid Karzai was elected as President of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. A year later, in 2005, legislative elections were held and the country's parliament began functioning again. In addition to occasionally violent political jockeying and ongoing military action to root out anti-government elements, the country suffers from poverty, corruption, and widespread opium cultivation.

In 2005, the United States and Afghanistan signed a strategic partnership agreement committing both nations to a long-term relationship. In the meantime approximately 30 billion US dollars are being spent on the reconstruction of the nation, most of this funding coming from America while some from European and Asian countries such as Britain, Germany, Japan, India, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Iran and others. Save the children is one of the main NGOs who spend this money in an attempt to build a better Afghanistan for children and families.

Safety and Security - Afghanistan is a volatile country, and downright dangerous in the southern and eastern areas... non-essential travel is highly discouraged by every government and NGO. The Taliban has now declared abduction of foreigners to be one of its primary goals. In July 2007, twenty-three Koreans were kidnapped from a public bus in Ghazni province, south of Kabul. Two of them were murdered while the rest were set free several weeks later after controversial negotiations with the Korean government.
While the northern part of the country (where I spent half my time) is generally considered to be a lot safer than the south and east, occasional incidents can still occur anywhere and a seemingly safe place can become the opposite in an instant. Several German media reporters were killed in the northern parts of Afghanistan, most likely by criminals or anti-westerners.

Land mines remain bad news in the country. Afghanistan is considered one of the most heavily mined countries in the world. According to a 2007 report by al-Jazeera news, approximately 60 people are killed each month in Afghanistan due to landmines. In the past, the numbers were much greater.

Largest Opium producer in the world…. (Latest figures from the UN estimate that Afghan opium generated $4 billion income in 2007, 93% of the world’s supply and equivalent to over half of the official economy. They produced so much that they couldn’t even shift the last 30% of it. It grows EVERYWHERE, especially in the warring regions…. I’ll let you decide what the TRUE reason is for the warring in Afghanistan??!!!!!!!!!

OK, so now the history/ politics / geography lesson is over, what can I say about Afghanistan? Before the Russian invasion in 1979, Afghanistan was considered to be one of the nicest and most hospitable nations in the world. That wonderful hospitality, along with the stunning panoramic vistas and the abundance of drugs, made this quite the destination for the intrepid traveler, hippie, or general trashbag in the 1970’s! But since then, the country has gone through a terrible time, what with the Russian invasion and occupation, the overthrow of the Soviets by the Taliban (backed by USA) and subsequent crackdown and ultra-conservative, medieval and torturous rule by these barbarians, then the “invasion” or overthrow of the Taliban by the US and allied forces and continuing fighting to this day, is it any wonder things have changed? That’s not to say Afghans are not friendly. In fact, they are some of the most hospitable, welcoming and friendly nation of people I have ever met. And despite the ruin that the Russians, Americans and the Taliban (the worst of the perpetrators, destroying all cultural heritage, ancient Buddha statues, making all men grow beards or else they were imprisoned, stoning women to death for accused adultery, separating women and men so that they couldn’t even go out together in the streets as man and wife, ruining education and forbidding girls to go to school, making all women wear burkas so that NOTHING of their skin was exposed, otherwise they were damned as prostitutes… and the rest) have caused to the country, it still has a raw charm and natural beauty that is unsurpassed.

Sunday 20th April – Landed in Kabul, dazed and confused after over-nighting in Dubai airport. Things were crazy (immigration, baggage claim and customs), but not by far the worst I’ve seen. Met outside the airport by Siddiqui, who led me out through the complex network of carparks (inaccessible to the public, for security reasons – well, not without a small fee) to our driver who was waiting to take me to the SC office on the other side of Kabul. As is the norm in these insecure countries, the drivers vary their routes, so that suicide bombers, terrorists, kidnappers etc. can’t predict where you are going to be. Arrived at the office, met Umair and the guys, had lunch, had my security briefing, then had to leave and head to Cedar House to get some shut-eye, as I was dead on my feet. Cedar House (for any planning a trip to Kabul in the near future) was basic but clean and decent enough for a couple of nights. It’s right near Flower Street and Chicken Street, both famous landmarks in Kabul, however given the fact that we can’t go out, that didn’t really make much of a difference. Travelling from compound to compound sure as hell is fun!!! L Worked the next couple of days, visited a Korean restaurant hidden down a backstreet in a compound (everything is in compounds, and restaurants are hidden as they get bombed if foreigners start frequenting there), registered with the Ministry of the Interior (how many gun-wielding security guards can check one person?) and did a bit of shopping (in a secured but decent shopping mall). The Serena Hotel, a nice 5 star number (the only one in Afghanistan) was where I should have been staying, but that got suicide-bombed (6 of the f*&#er$) a few weeks back, just after all of our SMT had left there for lunch and whilst one of our staff was still there. So, despite the owners putting up new huge reinforced gates, it’s not been added back to the UN secure list, which is a bugger for me as that rules the gym out and Afghani’s eat a hell of a lot and are ridiculously hospitable so cook you LOADS and LOADS of delicious (yet often greasy) food and it’s a sin to waste!

Wed 23rd April – Took a private PACTEC jet flight (put on by the EU/ECHO for INGOs), from Kabul to Maimana, in the northern provinces, an hour from the borders of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, to start our work in the field. The plane was tiny and, being late, we were ushered (like VIPs) through the many, many security checks to get to the tiny private jet area, where there were a number of other UN and NGO workers waiting to get their tiny planes (the wait took an age, as we waited for the fuel tanker to come and fill the plane (see pic), but eventually we were off, over the snow-capped mountains surrounding Kabul to the northern provinces. What a stunning sight, the whole way there. Flying into Maimana the scenery changed, with MUD hills that looked remarkably like sand-hills, and that turned green when there was rain and no drought. It was unbelievable. You will be able to see from the pictures what I mean.

Maimana is the capital of the northern province of Faryab and is part of what is now referred to as Afghan Turkistan. In previous times / centuries, it was an important trade route and was the gateway to Turkistan from Herat and Persia. Now, the province is mainly famous for fine handmade carpets / rugs, woven mainly by Afghan Turks and Uzbeks (who are more numerous in population in the northern provinces, which border Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. Given that I was in this remote and inaccessible part of the world, and that these were considered to be the finest handmade (Persian) rugs in the world I couldn’t not buy one. So after some shopping in the bazaars and haggling with the carpet traders, I managed to bag myself (literally) a hand-woven top-notch (silk) rug and free hand-woven bag which doubles as a cushion, for the bargain price of $320 (they go for thousands at home). Don’t know what I am going to do with a rug, when I aint got a house, but at least I got an Afghan rug!

Maimana is considered to be “tense”, according to our security rating system, but it felt relatively safe (whenever I say that something breaks out - touch wood!). It is a tranquil, peaceful, clean-feeling place with a small town feel to it, and definitely has a real provincial Afghan or Persian feel to it. Despite the security level being raised to “tense”, we were able to take a walk around the town, bazaar, football pitch and park, guided by our office operations coordinator, Guman, an Afghan-Uzbek, who explained what it was like during the times of the Taliban….. Men had to grow beards. If you didn’t have a beard, you were thrown in jail for 4 weeks until you grew one. Women and men were not allowed to walk down the street together. Men and women were separated in everything they do (to some extent, they still are). If a woman wanted to go to her mum’s house round the corner, she had to go in a group with other women. But here’s the thing. How did those women get to each other’s houses? Her own husband wouldn’t even accompany her, as if the Taliban decided that they didn’t believe you were married… well you were running the risk of being accused of adultery. And we all know the penalty for that: public stoning to death!! To get round this, a whole family (i.e. grandparents who could vouch for you) had to go together. It was very restricting for all parties concerned, and people were constantly living in fear. Today, women still walk around wearing burkas, completely covered up. Not even a slit for their eyes. It’s strange to see, and I often wonder how the women feel. I am scared to talk too much to females in that ultra conservative culture incase my friendliness (or nosiness) is misconstrued as flirtation, or sex-seeking, which is what it all boils down to, according to some!

Anyway, Maimana was a lovely experience; really relaxed. The guest house/ office compound we have there is lovely and tranquil, with vegetables and flowers growing in a patch in the garden, our own little loving dog to keep guard, a homely residence with all hand-made and crafted goods, helpful servants / cleaners / cooks / guards and drivers and hot running water. I didn’t want to leave. The staff were unbelievably friendly and talented, and the programs they are implementing, and the tools they use, were impressive too. Some of the best I have seen. Very dedicated people. And very hospitable too. Since I arrived in Afghanistan, I was fed and watered more than anywhere I have ever been. Huge feasts / banquets are put on and my concern for waste was always dismissed: I was a guest in their country / town / office / home and it was their duty / right / desire / tradition to be hospitable. I have never seen anything like this in my life. It makes me feel like I’ve been a bad host in the past.

Friday 25th April 08 – Today we left Maimana and headed via Andkhoy to Shiberghan (2 other towns where we have house / office compounds). Not before stopping off to buy our carpets, however…. Today we also discovered that one of our staff (an engineer) in Maimana died from a heart-attack. He was 43 years old. He also left behind a wife: a wife who worked for us as well (during the Taliban, it was common / essential to hire couples. If women were allowed to work, they had to have their husband as a chaperone and therefore it was common to hire couples). For us it was essential and necessary in order to achieve a gender balance and implement our programs, especially with young girls. An interesting cultural trait I noted today was that when an Afghan is informed that someone has died, they begin tutting loudly and repeatedly. Imagine a number of Afghans in a room, or in a car (where I was informed) all tutting at once, and you may comprehend the twisted way in which it can sound like a flock of twittering birds.

After sitting and drinking tea and chatting in several tongues with the carpet sellers at the morning bazaar, we headed off through the arid Afghan countryside from Maimana to Shiberghan. Maimana is immediately surrounded by brown muddy hills. Mud hills that look like huge sand dunes in a desert sea. However in less arid times these muddy hills turn green, as shoots of grass burst through the hard, dried surface of the mud. The hills themselves are mesmerizing. However against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, they look even more surreal, like a brightly painted landscape in a vivid painting. The hills continue almost all the way to Shiberghan, and the 4.5 hour drive through the small villages and semi-arid desert is extremely pleasant and one not to be missed. Along the way, you will see houses made entirely of dried mud, which blend neatly into the background and scenery, people harvesting (or trying to harvest) the little crops they have, lots of adults and children riding donkey and carts loaded with people or goods along the roads and burnt out army tanks strewn at the side of the road. Despite the latter reminder of the turbulent past, the journey will bring a warm smile to your face the whole way.

Arrived at the Shiberghan compound (after stopping off at our compound complex in Andkhoy) at 5pm and settled down for the night pretty early after watching a couple of cheesy movies in one of our program staff’s living room.

Saturday – was a working day. Slept like a log. Woke up at 8am, had meetings and chats all day (the staff all came in on their day off to help), including with Dr Tarik, our wonderfully friendly and charismatic Pakistani Deputy Director of Programs (DME), who explained a lot about the work we are doing in Health in Afghanistan. SC are pioneering some research in how to increase the health and nutrition of children, and how to lower infant and mother mortality at childbirth. We have already proven that by taking a traditional abortion drug straight after childbirth (aided by our community health workers who we train in the villages), the women rejects all the waste and placenta from her womb and the vessels contract, reducing the risk of bleeding to death. It’s shown to increase the chance of survival by 40% and now the Afghan government are trialing it in 14 provinces, saving hundreds of women’s lives and increasing the quality of life and chances of survival for thousands of children. If / when adopted on a national scale, this will have a profound impact. This… all made possible by looking at how we design our programs, having control sites and monitoring and evaluating results effectively. Inspiring stuff!

Sunday 27th April – Left Shiberghan, in the north, at 630am and began our marathon 13 hour journey back to Kabul, through the historic countryside and over the rugged mountains of Afghanistan. Driving out of Shiberghan towards Balkh the countryside became fertile and flat. The roadside was strewn with burnt out army tanks the whole way, and after 2 hours of driving, we reached the ancient city of Balkh. Few cities in Central Asia can compete with Balkh for importance in history or prominence in legend. Almost all great empires have passed through this ancient and historical place from the Mogul empires of Genghis Khan to the Macedonian empire of Alexander the Great!. Despite its importance as a major trade route between the West, China and India, Balkh was a cradle of religion, meeting point of cultures and a capital of an empire. The old ruined walls round the city and the mosque and surrounding complex (as well as the tomb of Rabia Qozdari) there are a must-see. In short, the (romantic) story of Rabia goes like this: Rabia was a remarkable character at the time, one of the first women to write Persian poetry. She was the daughter of the governor, who fell platonic love with her brother’s slave in order to experience the feeling of love and get closer to God/ Allah and his love! On discovering this platonic love (despite the fact they had never indulged in “profane love” with each other) her brother, in shame, stabbed her to death. With her blood she is said to have wrote on the wall her final verses.

Leaving Balkh, the next stop along the route if Mazar-i-Sharif, which has, in recent times, eclipsed Balkh in the province in terms of prominence and size. The main sight to see here is the massive and imposing blue tiled mosque, which is reputed to be the final resting place and “Shrine of Ali”, who was the Prophet Mohammed’s son-in-law. However that claim is disputed and another site, closer to the actual place where Ali was assassinated in Kufa, Iraq in AD 661. All knowledge of his burial place was lost until the 12th Century when it’s existence was revealed to a Mullah in a dream. Mazar’s claim builds on the story that “Ali’s companions placed his body on the back of a white she-camel which wandered until she fell, exhausted, and this is where the body was buried. So they built a mosque there and people queue up and traipse through looking and praying at what might not be anything, really! The Mosque itself is huge, imposing and stunning. The bright blue tiles sparkle in the sunlight and contrast, funnily enough, with the clear blue sky on a good day. There are separate entrances into the actual shrine, but don’t try getting in to see it if you aren’t a Muslim and can’t recite the Fatiha from the Quran. Believe me, I tried. And there aint no sense in arguing with a man with his finger on the trigger of a machine gun!
From Mazar-i-Sharif heading South, you will hit the quaint little town of Samangan, where you feel like you have stepped back to a time where there are little to no cars, everything and everyone is transported by “droshky”, everything is a market and the streets are lined with beautiful trees. The sight to be seen in the surrounding area here is the complex of Buddhist caves known as “Takht-i-Rustam”, or Rustam’s throne (Rustam is the main character in the Persian national epic, the Shahnameh). The English Literature poem “Sohrab and Rustam” tells the tragic story of Rustam, who volunteers to lead his army into battle and is killed in combat by a soldier who turns out to be his biological father. Only when the father notices a jewel on his arm (which he asked his mother some 30 years previous to give to any son she would bear as he was leaving her), did he realize it was his own blood he was fighting against and had just slain. Very Greek tragedy!
The site contains burial mounds, the main one of which is a stupa (impressively carved out of one huge piece of rock) and is said to contain relics of Buddha (along with other treasures). Apart from this huge rocky, mountainous stupa / pagoda there is a complex of caves carved into huge ornate rooms some resemblant of churches but carved by hand hundreds/ thousands of years ago inside the mountain. It’s really and truly awesome (in the English use of the word). It is (since the destruction of the massive Buddha at Bamiyan by the Taliban) the most important Buddhist site in Afghanistan today and definitely worth spending some time at.

Heading south from here, there are a couple of places you can stop off along the way, e.g. a natural mountain thermal springs said to have healing properties. The Lourdes of Afghanistan, if you will! But we headed straight for the Salang (mountain) Pass. The Salang Pass is in the second highest mountain range in the world. It has held an important place in history, proving too difficult to overcome for some invaders, and being a key strategic stronghold either for the Afghans or for invaders. The Russians built the tunnel that goes through the Salang Pass, and what an impressive tunnel it is. It is the highest tunnel in the world, is 3 miles long, cutting right through the mountain, and was the place of much fighting during the wars, with the belief that whoever held it had a strategic advantage over the enemy. Despite the dry and arid landscape of the previous week and a half, we were now high up in freezing cold, snow-capped, perilous peaks. Although a magnificent drive, I can’t help but compare it to the 2-3 day drive through the Indian Himalayas I did, from Srinagar in Kashmir to Leh in Ladakh, near the borders of China and Tibet. But then I doubt any mountain drive could ever rival that!

Heading back to Kabul from the mountains to the north, the scenery becomes flatter, more fertile and more developed. Points of interest along the way include an army tank dump-yard containing destroyed, burnt out and decommissioned army tankers from the Afghan, Russian, American, French, British, German and other allied armies, which acts as a museum (although not open to the public, but visible from the road).

Once back in Kabul, it was back to work in the traditional fashion, for a day, then out to the field 2 hours north of Kabul to visit some of our projects in villages out in the middle of nowhere. We visited a boys school where we are helping with the reconstruction and also providing a library of books and training teachers. We then went on into the hills and got lost (though the scenery was fantastic so no complaints) then got back on track and found the community we were supposed to visit. Our project workers had to come down to welcome us at the bottom of the hill because our car couldn’t make it up the hill. I don’t know. You spend thousands of dollars on 4 wheel drive cars to be able to negotiate the terrain and then the driver can’t get the vehicle up a bloody hill!! One had to question the effectiveness of use of resources J (well, it’s my job). We walked up this mud hill on the side of the mountain, on narrow cobbled paths surrounded on either side by increasingly huge and imposing mud walls built to look like a fortress. Apparently the scene resembled the village towns in Yemen. At a certain point along this desolate street with the fortress walls on either side we came upon a door. I had no idea what lay behind it, but when the door opened I was greeted by a scene that had been lifted from a movie set in biblical times or, dare I say it, a Monty Python sketch. This whole village was right there in front of us, houses built at various levels, some seemingly on top of another. It was very simple, rural, but extremely quaint and beautiful at the same time. Some of the villagers ran out to greet us, including one or 2 kids from the group that we were teaching, as guided us into one of the structures. There, sitting on the floor, cramped into a tiny mud-brick room, were around 30 kids from that village / community. At first, as is always the case, the kids were shy and retiring, so we just sat on the edge and observed the “goings-on” whilst one or two of the local people we employ and volunteers from that village explained what was going on. Basically the kids were being taught about nutrition, what the body needed and what the different food groups can offer us. I asked them a few questions, and tried to joke a bit with them about their eating habits and preferences (playing stupid) to get them to feel a bit less shy and relax a bit, and they began showing me what they knew. They separated the pictures of food into different groups depending on what they did for us. I asked them what they had for breakfast and what they got from that. I asked them how they shared that information with their families and how they tried to educate the wider community: they explained to me how they did a presentation to the village elders, how they went around in groups educating the others in their homes etc. They also demonstrated an iodine test on salt to be able to tell which had a higher salt content and they explained the science behind it (yes, kids in a mud-hut in the mountains in Afghanistan). When I asked, in practice, how it had changed things for the better and ensured their health and the health of the community, they told me how before their mothers used to sell eggs and vegetables at the market and mainly feed the children carbohydrates, whereas now eggs and vegetables are being kept and rice and bread are being sold at the markets instead. The results? Children are less sick and babies and infants are growing more. It was amazing! Such a simple thing that we don’t think about. And here I am sitting there, watching these kids explain things to me that I didn’t even know at their age, whilst teaching me a thing or two in the process. They also showed me the books they had received from us, and when I tested them on the content and moral of some of the stories, they could tell me in the most articulate way the correct answers to my questions, exceeding all my expectations. The whole experience was unbelievably inspiring. After saying our goodbyes we left the walled village, descended the hill, filled up our water bottles from a natural fresh-water spring and headed back in the scorching heat to Kabul.

After 2 weeks in Afghanistan I thought that I would have been itching to get out however, despite being restricted in some ways from doing anything and going anywhere we wanted, I could quite happily have stayed on for another week or so. The combination of fascinating history, vastly different culture, breathtaking scenery and unrivalled hospitality made me warm to Afghanistan in a way I would never have imagined. Saying goodbye to my colleagues was, as always, sad, but it ended on a happy note as I was given a departing gift: the traditional Afghan hat I had been going on about for the previous 2 weeks! Now all I had to worry about was smuggling my hand-woven rug out of the country without paying the astonishing $5 carpet-tax! I’ll leave you to imagine how that one ended…. J

2007-12-20T14:16:00.000-08:00

Jordan - Petra - Dec 2007

They say that a visit to the pyramids at Giza, in Egypt, leaves you in wonder and astonishment at the capabilities and achievements of mankind. Well, a visit to the ancient lost city of Petra, in Jordan, does just that and more….

Petra is an archaeological treasure renowned for its magical rock-cut architecture, temples and tombs. You will recognize it from movies such as Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (I know… wow!). It is basically a huge, sprawling and ancient “lost city” carved out of rocks and hidden behind an almost impenetrable barrier of rugged mountains in southwestern Jordan. It is the legacy of the Nabataeans, an industrious Arab people who settled in southern Jordan more than 2000 years ago. Admired then for its refined culture, massive architecture and ingenious complex of dams and water channels, Petra is now a UNESCO world heritage site (described by them as "one of the most precious cultural properties of man's cultural heritage”) and one of The New 7 Wonders of the World that is certain to enchant visitors from all corners of the globe.

The site remained unknown to the Western world until 1812 (hence the “lost” reference), when it was discovered by a Swiss explorer, who (if I recall correctly) pretended he was an Arabic religious preacher coming to perform a ritual there (it was generally hidden from outsiders, as legend has it that the Pharaoh from Egypt got as far as here and the city has hidden treasures – just like the movie, then). It takes a few hours drive through the desert from Amman to get there, and then a hike to get to it, which is not for the faint-hearted! Everything, though, from the scenery on the desert drive to the eerie and dramatic walk through “the Siq” or natural gorge in the mountains to get there is well worth the effort. Every corner you turn once you are in the mountains takes your breath away. I found myself grinning from ear-to-ear, naturally, for the whole day I spent there. Part of me was amazed, as I had never seen such sights before (I don’t think there are any), part of me was nostalgic, remembering my Indiana Jones adventures obsession as a child, part of me was intrigued and proud, wondering how mankind could be and was capable of such amazing things even BC, and a great big part of me felt lucky that I was standing there, in the middle of the desert and mountains, in Jordan, in the Middle-East, looking at this ancient Wonder of the Ancient World (one of the recently updated new 7 wonders of the world). It was first said that Petra was "designed to strike wonder into all who entered it". Well, it was designed well then, because it definitely does that!! Although much has been written about Petra, nothing really prepares you for this amazing place. It has to be seen to be believed.

Entrance to the city is through the Siq, a narrow gorge, over 1 kilometre in length, which is flanked on either side by soaring, 80-metre high cliffs. Just walking through the Siq is an experience in itself. The long, narrow, cool, creepy and gloomy chasm, whose steeply rising sides shut out the sun, provides a dramatic contrast with the magic which lies ahead.
Suddenly the gorge opens into a natural square dominated by Petra's most famous monument (and the one of Indiana Jones fame), The Treasury (El-Khazneh), whose intricately carved facade glows rose-pink / orange in the dazzling sun. This is an awe-inspiring experience. A massive façade, 30m wide and 43m high, carved out of the sheer, dusky pink, rock-face and dwarfing everything around it. It was carved in the early1st century as the tomb of an important Nabataean king and represents the engineering genius of these ancient people.
*PIC*
The Treasury is just the first of the many wonders that make up Petra. You will need at least two to three full days to really explore everything here. As you enter the Petra valley you will be overwhelmed by the natural beauty of this place and its outstanding architectural achievements. More facades beckon you in until the ancient city gradually unfolds, one monument leading to another for kilometre after kilometre. The sheer size of the city and the quality of beautifully carved facades is simply staggering and leads you to sit back and reflect on the creativity and industry of the Nabataeans who made Petra their capital. I consistently found myself asking “How on earth did they manage that?”

Along the way you will pass local women, men and children in Arab dress and head-dresses, trying to help you, guide you or sell you their wares. You’ll see camels, donkeys, horses, carts, stalls…. imagine a typical Arabian nights (or days) scene in the desert from a movie and you’re there.

Al-Deir (The Monastery) is the furthest point you can walk to in Petra. It is a tiring climb up the mountain, but definitely worthwhile, not only for the other monuments to be seen en route but also the mountain scenery and spectacular/ breathtaking views. On the incline, there is a magnificent view back to the city center and the Royal Tombs.

After a short climb through the narrow mountain passage you are brought out suddenly onto the large open area in front of the stunning Al-Deir (Monastery). Al-Deir itself is cut into the mountainside but not dominated by it. One really needs to see a human figure at its base to appreciate the huge scale of the largest facade in Petra. The doorway alone is over 8 m high. When I was there, a local Bedouin guy sat there, playing what sounded like a tin whistle, looking stoned, then jumped to his feet and literally scaled the sheer rock face at the side of this massive monument like a monkey and disappeared over the mountain, behind the monastery.

If you do make it this far, then do not stop there. Continue just a short way beyond and you will be rewarded by the most magnificent panoramic views over the mountains and desert in the direction of the Wadi Araba and Israel to the west.

This is as far as you can go, unless you want to abseil down into the wilderness beyond. By this point, you really are way up in the mountains, and are probably knackered from the 3 hour hike up there (if you’re fit), so you’ll be ready to make the long journey back through the sites, which are just as impressive the second time you see them (I had to stop myself from taking all the same pictures again – I think 300 was enough!).

All in all, there are over 800 individual monuments, including buildings, tombs, baths, funerary halls, temples, arched gateways, and colonnaded streets, that were mostly carved from the kaleidoscopic sandstone by the technical and artistic genius of its inhabitants.

Petra’s sights, as most sights, are definitely at their best in early morning and late afternoon, when the angled sun highlights the amazing natural colour of the rocks. Then, you can view the majesty of Petra as it was seen first when discovered in 1812 after being lost by the 16th century for almost 300 years! Regardless of when you go, however, Petra is sure to stun. You will go there, be transported back in time to an ancient civilization, and leave with a new appreciation of evolution and the astounding achievements of the human race.

2007-11-07T00:36:00.000-08:00

Tokyo, Japan - 1-2 November 2007

Konnichi wa! Well, Tokyo most definitely lived up to its expectations. It really is quite an alien world, not too tainted by “western” culture or the English language. Outside of the main hotels, and even then, people don’t really speak English, which was nice to come across again. Although difficult at times to communicate, it didn’t impede any of my plans. The Japanese are lovely people, ever patient and always willing to help the dumb foreigner.

Driving into the city from the airport took ages. The countryside wasn’t particularly attractive: quite industrial, but that’s to be expected given the fact that Japan successfully managed to steal away most manufacturing industry from the old developed world at one time. Once we hit Tokyo, things were different, however. The freeways are actually elevated roads, winding their ways overhead in and out the skyscrapers of the city. It’s quite futuristic in a way, and resemblant of the MRT system in Singapore.

I stayed at the Hilton Tokyo in Shinjuku, a central area known for its up-market hotels, shopping, and the busiest train station in the world, apparently. The hotel itself was very grand and elegant (as are most of the up-market hotels in Tokyo) and I had great sweeping views of the Tokyo skyline from my large minimalist-designed room, which came with nice little Japanese finishes such as the flat-screen TV and Japanese window-blinds. Jetlagged, not having slept, I dumped my bags and set out to see what Tokyo had to offer.

Tokyo is huge, with some 12 million inhabitants so there’s a lot to do and see. Given the lack of English signage or language skills I was a little daunted by the prospect of maneuvering myself around the sprawling Metro system but it isn’t that hard if you have your English guidebook with the English version of maps etc. It was quite the adventure, in fact.

One thing you definitely shouldn’t miss is the Tsukiji central fish market in the mornings. It’s the largest and busiest of its kind in the world. Acres and acres of fish, fish-related products and seafood exchange hands here daily in this bustling, chaotic atmosphere as fishermen, vendors, wholesalers and the odd tourist convene to try to get a piece of the action. Accidents are common as the little vehicles and forklifts they are driving around whiz in and out of the many thousands of alleys dodging people, fish and other crazy drivers. Considering what it is, the smell isn’t too overbearing but it’s not a sight for the faint-hearted and certainly not a place for your new Gucci pumps. Fish are cut, dissected, gutted, packed and auctioned off all in front of your eyes. You will have to arrive early to see the main action, and most of the auctioning. I got up at 4am and caught the first Metro at 522am which was fine.

Afterwards, it’s traditional to end your visit to the fish market with a full Sushi breakfast in one of the places in the market. But be prepared, queuing to get into these tiny places can take 2 hours. It’s well worth the wait, however. As any Japanese will tell you, it’s the freshest and best sushi in Japan, and the world.

After fuelling up on Sushi for the day and leaving the chaotic atmosphere of the fish market, you’ll probably want a bit of peace and quiet to regain your sense of inner self. Tokyo is full with such tranquil retreats in the form of tranquil Japanese gardens. Near the fish market itself is the Hama Rikyu Onshi-Teien, a former Shogunal palace and one of Tokyo’s finest gardens, complete with a charming tea pavilion and wonderfully manicured trees, some of them many hundreds of years old. Another such city space is the Imperial palace grounds, occupying acres of land in Central Tokyo near Tokyo station, around half the size of Central Park in New York. Only the East garden is open for most of the year, but you can get close to the palace, and the garden itself is a stunning retreat from the city craziness.

For shopping you wand to head to Ginza, which is the high-end designer capital of Tokyo, Roppongi and Roppongi Hills for nice surroundings whilst you shop, and Harajuku for your quaint little windy streets of interesting and independent boutiques and eclectic mix of next-best-thing and next-old-thing in a pleasant setting for meandering (as well as the main drag of Omote Sando). You can also catch a glimpse of the girls of Gwen Stefani fame hanging our here on the bridge over the station. Akihabara has the world’s highest concentration of discount electrical shops and is the place to go to pick up an electronic goods bargain. Sony etc. is so much cheaper in Japan.

No visit to Tokyo is complete without a trip up one of the many skyscrapers for dinner and / or a drink, to take in the views of the city. Personally I prefer it at night, when the city is illuminated and comes to life with all the lit-up skyscrapers and neon lights, but day is also good. For dinner, I’d recommend HAKXXX in the Sky Garden on the 50th floor of the Nomura building, or the Aurora Lounge in the Keio Plaza hotel, both in Shinjuku. The former does modern, experimental Japanese food and the latter modern European. The Park Hyatt is also a good choice and is the setting of the movie “Lost in Translation”, which adds to the excitement there…..

I’ll sign off now and leave the rest of Tokyo to explore yourselves. Every person’s experience will most undoubtedly be different. Sayonara!!

2007-09-30T22:04:00.000-07:00

Uganda - September 2007 - Gorillas in the Mist

When my boss first asked me to go to Africa again to do a review / investigation, I thought “No, I don’t have the time, with all my other traveling for work – I have near to no time at home in London as it is”. But when he said it was Uganda that was asking for help (a country I’d always wanted to go to anyway), I managed to negotiate only actually working a week there and began researching the possibility of trekking those elusive and highly endangered mountain gorillas way up in the mountain rainforests on the border with Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

After some preliminary research I found that, due to how little in number and endangered mountain gorillas are (there are only 700 left on the planet), the Ugandan Wildlife Authority only issues a handful of tracking permits a day and they are generally booked out months and months in advance. Undeterred, I must have contacted every travel agency and tour operator in Uganda, trying to get on a cancellation list and secure one of these small pieces of gold-dust and, as luck would have it, I managed to secure 2 permits for roughly the time I could go (my advice here is persevere, folks, as people do cancel). So, before you know it I was off to Uganda with my new found friend of a few weeks, Liz, to see one of the most endangered species of animal on the planet.

Arriving into Entebbe airport (27 Sept 07) was easy by African standards and it was relatively quick to get through immigration and “customs”. Our driver and guide, Paul, picked us up from the airport in a 4WD and we immediately began the long journey to Bwindi Impenetrable Forest on the Rwandan and Congolese borders. After one hellish 11-hour drive, if I had to dish out a piece of advice to anyone considering the same, it would be “Don’t do it!” Not unless you have buns of steel and the patience of a saint. I would say “break it up” but there isn’t really that much on the way to “do”. A little out of the way, one can stay on a lake and arrange game drives, canoeing, etc. so this may be worth looking into. The drive, however, especially the last few hours through the scenic mountains and rural villages, was stunning! All the children were incredibly vibrant and friendly, running after the vehicle, waving and smiling and shouting as we drove through the mountains and countryside. Definitely one of the friendliest experiences I’ve had driving through the rural countryside in Africa. A fantastic start for what was about to come.

At Bwindi Impenetrable, we stayed at The Gorilla Resort, an up-market tented camp facility on the hillside with great panoramic views of the adjacent mountainside leading to the national park and, over the hill, the Congo. For those of you who have never stayed in an up-market / luxury tented camp facility in Africa, dispel those images of campsites at Bognor Regis and think more along the lines of naturalist hotel room with en-suite facilities all under a canvas roof or just outside the canvas tent on a wood decking / platforms. Take all of this, add solar powered heating and electricity, perch it on stilts on a picturesque hillside and you have what the avid safari enthusiast terms “luxury”: pretty nice for a tented camping experience, by any measure of the imagination.

After a night round the log fire, made and lit on a raised wooden decking platform in the forest, drinking a variety of double liquers, we retired to have one of the best and most peaceful sleeps ever, in our tent beds, surrounded by the sounds of mother-nature. Hot-water bottles provided n all. How quaint! Now that’s service!!! After being woken at 615am with coffee and cake, we decided against having a shower (it was bloody freezing at that time in the morning and at that altitude), had breakfast and left for the park / reserve / jungle entrance to meet our group of 8 (where we were briefed on how to react and how NOT to trek if we were sick as these are our close cousins and can catch our colds and viruses) and start our long, arduous hike up the mountainside into the rain-forest. I should probably note here that Bwindi Impenetrable was originally named the Impenetrable Forest by the colonial masters of Uganda, due to the extreme denseness of its forests and rooftop canopy. As far as jungles go, it was definitely denser than any I’ve encountered to date, but our armed guide and trackers had their machetes at hand so we cruised through.

We trekked for a full three-and-a-half hours before we reached the trail of the group of gorillas we were tracking. Trackers were sent out in the morning to track them from where they were last spotted and we met up with them around three hours after we began climbing. I darted up the front when we met the trackers, overtaking the “older” Americans in our group, and before I knew it there were two gorillas within feet of me, fighting or playing. I basically sh*t a brick. They were so unbelievably grand and powerful and boisterous when they moved, and I wasn’t sure how close you could get to them or how safe it was; up until that point we were told we’d be observing them from a distance. This was basically sitting in the dining room with them whilst they munched on bark and leaves. The next hour or two was the most amazing animal encounter you could ever hope to imagine. You can get so close you can almost touch them. They, like almost every other animal in Africa, can (and did!) mock charge you when they feel threatened, but you’re generally safe with the guides, who growl back at them to keep them at peace. We basically followed the clan around for an hour or so, watching them feed, groom, play, climb trees, swing on vines and sleep. There was one large dominant silver-back male in this group, a mammoth of a primate with a huge humped head, who could look mean as hell but also sad and gentle as ever too. One of the females in the group had just lost her baby. It had been dead for only one day when we arrived. She hadn’t yet accepted that it was dead and so was carrying around its dead carcass wherever she went. The trackers believe she’ll accept it in the next few days and discard the carcass, whence the trackers will hopefully find it and take it to a vet to determine the cause of death; this particular female has lost her last three young. It was so incredibly sad to watch. You could see from the expressions on their faces (hers and the dominant male’s) that they had trouble coming to terms with it, believe it or not. Then again, they are our cousins, so why believe not?

After a while of following them around, getting caught in between them, watching them and standing in awe and disbelief at where we were and what we were doing, we started the long hike back (after lunch in the shade of the rainforest) to the base camp. If you have to do anything before you die (well if you have to do three things before you die), make the journey, take the trip and venture into the Ugandan (or Rwandan) jungle and see these wonderful, charismatic creatures in their one and only natural habitat on the planet. There are only 700 of them left in this world: 320 are in Bwindi Impenetrable and the rest either just over the border with Congo and Rwanda, or in Zoos around the world. It’s a priceless experience and a worthwhile investment that I guarantee no-one could ever come close to regretting!

Below are some other photos from my trip, including working in the village communities in rural Uganda.

2007-03-11T20:08:00.000-07:00

Indonesia - Java earthquake response - March 2007

Selamat Pagi kawan-kawan,

Apa khabar? Saya baik saja! (My Bahasa is coming back with a vengeance)!

So this has to be the 6th time I’ve been to Indonesia (second with Save the Children), so feeling pretty acquainted with the old place! Last time, I spent my time in Jakarta (the capital) and Aceh (based in Banda Aceh), with Save the Children US, assessing the terrible devastation of the Tsunami and the management of the response initiated by Save the Children there. Remembering that Indonesia was by far and away the worst affected of the countries hit by the Tsunami, COMPLETELY devastating hundreds of kms of coast line, killing hundreds of thousands of people, and displacing hundreds of thousands more, I have attached some pics of the devastation, which (when I arrived a year afterwards) looked to me like it was the day after the Tsunami hit.

So I arrived in Jakarta after a mammoth flight from London via Singapore. Singapore Airlines has always been, and continues to be, my favourite airline by far. Beautiful and professional staff, great choice and quality of food and wine, great service, the most spacious seats in any airlines’ economy cabin (and First-class), over 80 movies and a tonne of other programmes and games ON-DEMAND. Staying at the Ambhara Hotel, where I stayed last time, which is pretty plush: a choice of fantastic restaurants and bars, piano player in the lobby, huge marble spiral staircase, great gym, swimming pool on the roof – all for next to nothing (1 because Jakarta is cheap and 2 because of the discounts we get as an INGO). First week spent working at our offices here in the capital which is basically a huge beautiful colonial style house / mansion with a huge Whitehouse style balcony, gardens and a patio and pool out back. Very nice! We have to be here, as do most INGOs as it’s safe and we have our own compound which makes it easier to protect.

This time I’m here to look at our Emergency Response to the Java Earthquake, which happened in May 2006. But first a bit of Indonesian history, to put our work here in this huge country into context! You know you all love this bit!

For sheer size and variety, Indonesia is pretty much unbeatable, by any standard. The country is so enormous that nobody is quite sure how big it is; there are between 13,000 and 17,000 islands, depending on who you speak to. It’s certainly the largest archipelago in the world, spreading over 5200km from way up in the Asian mainland all the way down and across to Australia. It’s huge, and if you’ve travelled between these islands, including Sumatra, Java, Bali, Timor, Irian Jaya, Borneo etc. you’ll see what I mean. It’s pretty god-damn HUGE! It’s also the most populous Muslim country in the world, with over 200 million inhabitants. Despite being one of the most diverse, enchanting, stunning, mysterious and friendly places in the world (the islands are largely volcanic in nature, from the cloud-swept volcanoes and mountain scenery, down through the lush tropical rainforests and rice-paddies, and dropping down to some of the world’s most stunning and beautiful beaches and vivid blue seas – one need only visit the idyllic islands of Bali, Lombok and the Gilli Islands to know what I mean). Steeped in religious culture and natural wildlife too (Indonesia is home to the world’s greatest lizards – the Komodo dragons – as well as Orangutans – or “Orang Utang” which means “man of the jungle” - I’m sure I’ve told most of you that interesting fact before) you could easily spend months here and not even scratch the surface.

Despite all the attraction, most people remember Indonesia for the recent news events, including conflict and unrest, which emphasise the fragility of the state, and its unfortunate history in terms of natural disasters:

Armed conflict in East Timor in late 90’s/ early 2000;
Savage killings in Jakarta in 1998 (exactly when I decided to pop over with some mates for a dangerous weekend from Singapore, despite every embassy in the world advising against all travel to the country);
Bali Bombings in recent years, including last year;
Tsunami in Dec 2005
Java Earthquake in May 2006;
Floods in Jakarta few weeks ago;
Constant earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, floods etc… due to the geographical position right across along those fault-lines.

Anyway, you should go. It truly is an amazing country!

So anyway, as if the above wasn't enough, while I’m here (today – Tues 6th March), there’s another earthquake measuring 6.3 on the richter scale, the epicentre in Sumatra (the next island). Not only felt here in Indonesia, the tremors were felt as far afield as Singapore and Malaysia. Lots of people were killed, the official first estimate being c.70 (not the thousands killed in the Java earthquake, mind you), conveyed to the director as I was sitting in the room. There went my meeting, as we launched a response!

Wed 7th March – So today I awake to another disaster. Garuda Indonesia flight 200 from Jakarta to Yogyakarta crashed and burst into flames exceeding 600 degrees celcius, killing some of the people on board. Miraculously, scores of people made it out alive, but some of the people who were killed can’t even be identified from their dental records as the temperature was so high that even their teeth were burnt. Waking up to those images, knowing I was going to get that flight at one point, and that I was getting that same flight 5 days later was pretty unnerving. The next 5 days weren’t that reassuring either; on BBC world and in the local press all that seemed to be discussed was Indonesia’s poor aviation safety record and how many flights disappear over Borneo or Papau New Guinea, or simply plunge into the sea.

That weekend I went out for dinner on the Friday night with one of our staff to Jalan Kemang Raya…. where all the local socialites and expat community are. You have everything here, from Starbucks and Coffee-Bean to swanky boutique restaurants and shops to glamorous art gallery cum interior design shops cum restaurants. You wouldn’t even see some of these places in the fashion or style capitals of the world. Most impressive and a definite must-see / do! Anyway we ended up having a really expensive dinner (by Indonesian standards) at Anatolia, a really nice Turkish restaurant, beautiful belly dancer thrown in for effect. This obviously turned into a bar-crawl down Kemang Raya and ended up in the Brain nightclub, where the music was surprisingly good, but the drinks expensive and the crown leaving a lot to be desired. My recollection of clubbing in Jakarta’s infamous nightlife was somewhat different than what I was presented with on this impromptu evening (a trip to Stadium is a must-do too). The following day was spent updating and amending my blog, doing a bit of work in my room, and nursing a hangover, before going to the gym for 2 hours, and getting out of going to an Indonesian wedding (gutted I missed that one, but I was not in the most sociable of moods). Interesting thing happened at the mall though – people / girls coming up and asking to have their picture taken with me. So funny! And a little awkward too. Oh well, I made some new friends. If I haven’t already said, Indonesians are one of the most friendly and hospitable peoples I’ve had the pleasure of coming across.

Yogyakarta

Flew to Yogya on Sunday. Got up at 5am after 4 hours sleep and saturated my insides with coffee before making my way to the airport for the death flight. As I am writing this, you’ve probably guessed I survived that leg of it. Tho it was touch and go for a while, when there were sudden jolts on the way in to land and a very bumpy landing (what all the survivors from the crash were reporting). The anxious expressions on everyone’s faces, looking at each other, as we came in to land, was sickly amusing, and forms the basis of a potential dark comedy sketch. Arip and I were picked up by a friend he’d never met before (a girl called Effy), and we spent the day going to Borobodur, the largest monument in the Southern hemisphere, in West Central Java, and also the largest Buddhist Stupa in the world. The ancient ruined complex, built around 700 AD, is a World Heritage Listed site, and was pretty god-damn impressive (though after the many millions of temples I’ve seen by now, and especially the wonder that is Angkor, interest was beginning to escape me after an hour or 2). From there, after a bit of shopping and haggling in the market, and some Chicken Satay (best and cheapest I’ve had) and Gado-Gado Longton, we headed to Gunung Merapi, or Mount Merapi, Indonesia’s most active volcano, and the world’s 6th most active. It erupted shortly after the earthquake last year, and seismologists say that after this recent one in Sumatra, 4 volcanoes in Indonesia, including Merapi, are on high alert. Sadly it was a wee bit cloudy round the top so visibility wasn’t as great as it could have been but have attached pics anyway.

2007-02-20T08:28:00.000-08:00

Sri Lanka - Jan 2007
Mon 15th January 07 – Arrived in Colombo in the afternoon, picked up at airport, checked into hotel and went walkabout. Visited a sacred lake, some temples, got accosted by a man trying to sell me Ayurvedic massage services from his back-street alley business (me being naïve and trusting went to the “parlour”, thinking I’d check it out for me and Lizzie, and found an abundance of ladies all sitting in a room for me to pick from – sharp exit – not really my scene!). Also found a great department store (ODEL), which had everything a boy could ask for. Was like Frasers or Selfridges (maybe less selection), but all the brands etc. and at a fraction of the price. So obviously purchased quite a few items, had sushi, then got a trishaw /tuk-tuk back to the hotel. So much for not spending money.

Tues 16 – Fri 19 – Days have consisted of getting up early (6.30pm) after much sleepless / broken sleep nights, running thro town along to the Galle Face for my morning run, which everyone must do, and working from the office in Colombo. Nights were spent eating at the Palmyrah restaurant in the hotel, one of Colombo’s finest Sri Lankan eateries, apparently. Meals cost less than US$5 / £2.50. And that’s for the best! Sri Lanka really is cheap cheap cheap. Much cheapness! More so than India, if I recall correctly! And also less crowded and cleaner in the city.

Sat 20-Sun 21 – Almost a week and no alcohol!!!! Hired a private air-con vehicle with driver for the weekend and headed to the old World Heritage Site of Sigiriya. Fable has it (and some historians say) that this rocky mountain outcrop was once a royal and military residence. According to the theory, King Kassapa sought out a new kingdom and built a garden and a palace on the summit or this extinct volcano after overthrowing and murdering his own father. Other more recent evidence suggests that’s all myth and this was always a holy place / monastery. It’s amazing how they built this palace / monastery on top of this rock mountain all those years ago, with sheer cliff faces on every side. An architectural mystery and archaeological legacy! Beautifully lawned gardens and cleverly irrigated pools or tanks (apparently “bathing pools” for the king and his concubines) were created leading up to it on either side, the remains of which are there today. Steep steps were carved into the rock, making it a bit of an effort, and not for those of us suffering from vertigo. Anyway the views and ruins on the top are amazing and a “must see” for those visiting Sri Lanka.

Mon 22nd – Colombo. My boss arrived and we worked all day, having a long lunch to talk about my future career in the organisation. Needless to say I’m sure I was too frank and honest and probably overstepped the mark a few times, but I hate to disappoint! Went out in the evening and got absolutely wrecked with my boss. Rather fun at first… but you know how it goes (well with me and my “challenging” or “questioning” demeanour)… soon wondered if I’d spent the night throwing spanners (in the works, that is)….! We’ll see the repercussions when I get back to London.

Tues 23rd – Got up at the crack of Dawn, pushed her out the way, and got dressed. Car picked me up at 630am for the 10-hour drive across Sri Lanka to the East Coast to Batticaloa and the Tsunami coast. Now’s probably a good time for the history bit! You know what to do folks….
History Bit / Background – After periods of Portugese, Dutch and then British “colonisation”, Sri Lanka gained independence from the British (on the back of Indian independence) in 1948. The country is made up of (originally) settlers from what’s now India, but 2 main ethnic groups reside here, the Singhalese (Buddhist majority) and the Tamils (Hindu minority). Relative peace ensued in the post-colonial / independence era, until one of the political parties who came to power decided to make Buddhism the priority religion in SL, and Singhalese the national language instead of English, and also limited the number of University places given to Tamils (they received a disproportionately high number of places through merit). This cause a backlash which ignited what is now effectively a civil war in the country, with the government fighting against the LTTE (Liberation Tamil Tigers of Eelam – who call for a federal based system of government or self rule in the north and east – to create a Tamil state called Eelam). The LTTE control a number of areas in the north and east and my little journey to the Tsunami Coast took me right past some of them (the government UNCLEARED areas). Now INGOs are not allowed in by the government, which means that children and people are suffering. The ironic thing is, that when the LTTE take control of a place, the Tamil people move, as it becomes unsafe due to government shelling and air strikes and artillery attacks. So they move to the cleared areas (where we operate), become IDPs (refugees) and then we and the government set up IDP camps, where they live with no real homes, no real access to services (health, education, protection), no livelihoods (income generation opportunities) etc. That’s where we come in!

The whole of the east coast (so half of Sri Lanka) was devastated by the Tsunami, over 2 years ago now. Having visited affected regions one year on (Indonesia and even Somalia), and now two years on (Sri Lanka), things are finally getting better, but still lots to do to get people back on their feet. I visited some fishermen to talk about how they are using the boats we purchase them, and the fishing nets etc. and found an array of problems they were still facing. Not helped by the conflict and the fact that the manufacturers of their defective boats (who are Singhalese), understandably wont come to fix them. I also visited a community centre we built and children’s clubs and village committee’s we created with the Tsunami funds and saw a lot of good work being done. As I’ve probably said before, our approach is to mobilise children and communities to work for themselves, so we leave a sustainable impact in the areas we work. So we build places for them to meet, give them training on child rights and child protection, train teachers and give them technical support, and in Sri Lanka (being a conflict country), we do peer mediation and conflict resolution training / camps, where we try to get children from the two communities to integrate, understand each other, and find alternative solutions to resolve the long-running disputes. Because children are the key to the future (I feel a Whitney hit coming on)!
I’ve attached some pics of the children in the schools (which Save the Children built) in the IDP camps. Bless. They have nothing, having had to leave their homes and everything behind, by the thousands, just to be safe. I know how they feel!!!! I took part in a distribution of school bags / materials / uniforms to some kids in one of the schools we support.

There I am on my first night in Batti, sitting down to my evening meal in the house that we rent there, when all of a sudden I hear *BOOM*. I literally dropped my plate, jumped up and cowered on my bed, not knowing what the hell that was. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Then again, *BOOM* then a short whizz, overhead. I thought we were being attacked. I ran out and asked Emanuel, my colleague what the hell that was, and he said (with big frightened eyes)… “That’s just the army firing into the rebel held territories (from NEXT TO MY BLOODY ROOM)… they do it every night to let them know they’re there”. “Erm…. Well won’t they fire back?”, I asked, “And what about the civilians… wont they get hit”? ………. “Who knows”, is all I got. Erm…. (again).. not good enough for me…. In Israel, they have advanced weapons technology that detects where the missile came from and immediately launches a counter-missile-attack. Anyway, booming and whizzing sporadically throughout the night, each time wondering if the whiz was going to land in my room or, worse, near…. Me lying, dying in agony having being hit by shrapnel. OK, a b it dramatic, but it was as vivid as real in my head. I mean, I’ve slept (uneasily) through gunfire and shelling before, but NOT from next door! Needless to say next day (after I tried to go for an early morning run, only to be stopped by the military and chased back as they were doing their daily morning scour for land mines planted during the night), I worked like a trooper, firing through the visits, to get finished and out of there to relative safety for the weekend. I’m thinking of cutting back on the field visits. They said this would happen at the 2-year mark. I’m obviously just more advanced than my predecessors… Lol.

Sunday 28th January was a pretty random and interesting day. Arrived in Anuradhapura, where Sri Lanka’s ancient kings ruled from many centuries ago, the day before, after leaving the missile base!!! Got up and went for a run (my way of keeping fit and exploring at the same time). Thought I could run round the “tank” or reservoir, which is so huge it looks more like Lake Malawi or the sea or something. Anyway, found out I couldn’t when the “path” got thinner, the trees more dense, and suddenly I stopped dead, surrounded by jungle and with a HUGE evil-looking spider dangling in front of me, waiting, and blocking my way. Thank god I noticed it *Shudder*. Anyway, bumped into a nice man, wrapped in nothing but a cloth, and he informed me that it was nothing but jungle that there way, so I headed back and ran down a quaint, quiet, palm tree fringed dirt track / road with the odd hut / house on either end. Managed to get chased by dogs along the way (I can never seem to shake the buggers, doesn’t matter what country I’m in), and ran slap bang into a cow as I took a corner too fast. Great start to the day!
Hired a bike from the hotel and set about exploring the ancient “sacred city” of Anuradhapura – quite rightly listed as a World Heritage Site. Although it looked manageable on foot, looking at the map, I soon found out I had made a wise investment in my mountain bike with no suspension and a solid saddle that gave your arse a feeling that it was well spanked as soon as you sat on it (only 250 Rupees / £1.20). Cycled through the “new town” (it’s all relative) to the massive sprawling complex of ancient ruins, temples and pagodas / stupas, down deserted lush country lanes and dirt tracks, with palm trees on either side, rice paddies, thatched roof huts and homes, the sun beating down, local people cycling by, greeting me whilst going about their daily business… you get the picture… it was lovely. The ruins were pretty impressive (largest stone stupa in the world, oldest charted boddhi / Buddha tree, most sacred Buddha statue in SL), but by now I’m all ruined out, and after seeing places like Ankgor Wat, all other ruins just look pretty much the same by now… well, they did, when I was dehydrated, lost and knackered.
More exciting were my encounters. One with monkeys, hundreds of them, throwing things at me from the trees, and one cheeky wee bugger tried to sh*t on me. The other was with a local guy called Indika, who I had a very strange and spiritual encounter with. He was a local guy, who’s finished university and was making a living as a guide. Tho he didn’t ask me to buy his services. We engaged in a discussion as he was showing me directions, and got chatting for an hour. Immediately, he asked my age (guessed it correctly), then said: “can I ask you 2 questions”? I said sure, and HONESTLY, the 2 questions were rather personal / philosophical, and were things I’d been thinking about right there and then beforehand. Things that nobody would have guessed or thought to ask! Very, very strange! He also explained what kind of job he wanted, which was basically what I did. He also explained that he’d done Acc and Fin at uni, and had a degree… like me… and…. the personal things I’ll leave out. We then entered into a discussion about religion / spirituality and the pursuit of happiness. I left and got on my way, feeling rather pensive for the rest of the day and a bit dumbstruck by the whole encounter.
Mon 29-Wed 31st – Spend working in Anuradhapura, with a day in the middle to visit Vavuniya – where I did a partner visit and visited a school, or “empowerment campus” to see a special school set up for “special needs” children. The government wont accept most of these kids into school so this campus Save and our partner have set up accommodates children from all walks… basically if you’re ANY different, you wont really be provided for in government schools, so this school contains everyone from those with learning difficulties to the hearing impaired. If we weren’t funding this, these poor children wouldn’t get an education. It was really surprising, as I had always heard that Sri Lanka had quite a good and progressive education system. I think where I got confused was that Sri Lankans value education, and they do everything to ensure their children succeed (against all the odds at times, it seems). Also met 2 VSO volunteers (Lucy , English, and Jorieke, a really cool Dutch girl whom I was to hook up with for a drink in Colombo that Fri) and took my hat off to them. I couldn’t live there for 2 years. And to think I was going to do VSO as well….. Thank God this job came up. I love the field, but only in small doses these days. I’m definitely made for the city in the main. Now, anyway! The long drive back to Colombo was just that. Long. Was supposed to take 5 hours and took longer as we got caught in a traffic jam 45k outside, and moved at 10km/h all the way into Colombo. To top it off, the aircon in the vehicle went from giving me brain freeze to packing in and ceasing to function. So the last 3 hours were a sweating, suffocating, polluted misery. Though I did love it when the sun started going down and driving thro Asia with all the smells in the air brought back so many good memories.
Sunday 4th Feb – Spent the last few days in Colombo (nice), exercising, working, lying by the pool and having the closure meeting with the Director group here which went great. The Director of Operations’ house is AMAZING! Nice gated compound. Very colonial style in elegance etc. Just arrived today at the Galle Face Hotel, Colombo’s oldest, most traditional colonial style hotel.

We have the Thai Royal Suite, which is a bit dated, but it’s supposed to be like transferring back in time, and it’s huge with great views of the patio and the sea. Now the holiday begins…. Well, when Lizzie arrives with the champagne…

2006-11-21T02:43:00.000-08:00

Sudan - The Black Hole of Africa - Oct 2006
Sallam Aleikum (again),
Excuse the diary format, but this is the easiest way for me to recall my trips, and also write to you all about them. After a long flight via Amman in Jordan (where I met, got chatting for ages to and swapped cards with the Sudanese Oil Minister - one of the most oil rich countries in the world - if they learn how to exploit this newly found wealth), I arrived in Khartoum in the dark on Sat night / Sun morning at 1am (29th Oct). Came to the hotel (Meridien, but more of a midden for the Scottish amongst you), ate a muy delicioso burger, watched a DVD and slept. People work here Sunday - Thursday, so I was picked up early in the morning to head to the office here in the capital..... which is basically just a more dusty and less developed version of your average African city (funny that, being in the middle of the desert, eh?).
Had meetings in the office Sun and Mon 29-30th Oct, which wasn't too bad. It's decent and the people are friendly. Finding out a bit more about the country's turbulent recent past, the programme work we do here, and trying to gauge what risky areas I had to look at. that night we went to eat fish by the river, which I found out was also the Nile, and in fact Khartoum, at a bridge is where the white nile and the blue nile meet to create the start of the Nile river. Khartoum actually means "trunk" (as in elephants) and it relates to the coming together and creation of the Nile.... Learn something new every day, right?
Tuesday 31st October
Wow. What a long, physically, emotionally and mentally tiring but crazily-interesting, morally-reflective and humbling day!!! Started this morning by meeting the woman from UNICEF in Paris (UNICEF are one of our donors), chatting to her about some key developments, then heading out to the field to do project visits, and see the work on the ground. Basically spent the day in IDP (Internally Displaced Persons), or refugees to the lay-person, camps on the outskirts of Khartoum looking at what Save the Children (SCUK) do with the money on the ground.
A bit of background on Sudanese current affairs (if you're not interested, skip the bit in Italics - Oh thoughtful me!):
Sudan is the largest country in Africa, so yep - pretty huge. It has been at war (with itself) for 3/4 of its history since independence (1956). Khartoum in the centre is basically a Muslim, Arab government, and over the years has been accused of repressing the black indigenous populations in the South, West, North and (more recently) the East, often quite brutally. Regime after regime has been overthrown, and a large part of the discontent was due to the fact that an Islamic administration and legal system was going to be forced into the constitution, obviously to the detriment of the African non-Muslims. It was started, then overthrown, then started again, and now it is the status quo. For a while, traditional Islamic justice was enforced, so people were publicly lashed and beaten, had their hands cut off for stealing etc. even if you were not a Muslim. So obviously the non-Muslim, or mainly Christian, South was not happy and the SDLP (Sudanese Democratic Liberation Party) and SDLA (Army) became the main rivals to the autocratic arab regime in the north, so one of the civil wars (the North-South war). A peace agreement has been signed, forced by the international community, and the South has now been given its devolved parliament, though people argue this is a puppet-theatre. The discovery of one of the worlds greatest oil reserves under the feet ofthe South a few years back didn't do much to help this, as the Khartoum government realised what it would be giving away with any form of "self-determination" leading to independence. Especially if this involves ownership of it's own natural resources. Anyway 4 million of the 6 million people in the South are IDPs, not living in their home land, but in refugee camps thrown up in a flash. 4 MILLION!!!!
Although a peace agreement has been signed with the south, the provisions of this have yet to translate into action on the ground. Darfur (in the West) is still a horrible hot-spot of human rights abuses, rape, beatings, fighting, recruitment of boy soldiers into the armed militia etc. Basically it started as 2 rebel groups representing the nomadic, indigenous black farmers in the West resisting the arab governments policies and rebelling against the government as protest against repression and neglect. So the government has supported and armed arab militia (the janjaweed) to fight them, which has resulted in what the outside world (or those brave enough to say it) has branded genocide. Miliions of people have been slaughtered. Refugee camps of over 135,000 (the population of some UK cities) have been set up and attacked from the air and land by the janjaweed (in total around 2 million are IDPs in the West an some have fleed to Chad). The International humanitarian and aid community has been targeted, with supplies / food / water sanitation equipment / medicine meant for the suffering refugees being forcibly taken my the arab militia, and ATTACKS on neutral aid workers (c.30 a year), including 4 SCUK staff last year (hence we had to withdraw from Darfur - when we were deliberately targeted). The worst story was of our 2 employees driving with aid and trying to get to a refugee camp before dark. They took a shorter route to try to get the aid there on time as the children were sufferering and dying. They were in a clearly marked white Save the Children vehicle, and were almost there were they were ambushed, taken out of the vehicle, shot in the head, and left for dead on the road. In Darfur, the African Union are the peacekeeping force, but they are ill-equipped in terms of logistics and equipment and there are only 10,000 people trying to protect people in an area the size of France. Kashmir (smaller) had 500,000 soldiers. The UN offered, and were talking about coming in to stop the fighting, observe the peace, and ensure the government took action / reigned in the Arab militia and kept to its side of the peace agreement, but the President responded in "fighting talk" saying if the UN (who are already here!!!) stepped on his soil, he himself would take up arms, and allow Al Queda to come in and fight a holy was from inside Sudan....
Anyway, similar internal wars in the East and the North too. And we're talking millions of people on millions of people. The government are fighting (or have been) on all fronts. Sudan topped the world's most failed state list in 2005 (I'm taking a tour of the top 10 - ;-p). Get the picture, anyway?
So today I started by visiting a vocational training centre (VTC) in an IDP camp (Mayo Camp), and the UNICEF woman accompanied us. It was amazing. Driving in was crazy. It was HUGE - hundreds of thousands of families. Makeshift homes set up in the desert, for as far as the eyes can see. Like a huge sprawling, spacious city of homes / tents of various standards and desert. We (SCUK) have built this training centre and trained trainers to train children in the camps. As part of our protection programme, we identify children who we have helped decommission from the militants, children who've never been to school, or dropped out, or can't attend because families cannot afford it or the child can't speak arabic (what the Khartoum government makes all schools teach in - despite the majority of people speaking their own languages / not being able to speak Arabic), or street children, and children who have been shunned by their families. Then we teach them life skills, so they have a chance at a future. It was amazing. In this one makeshift compound, we had set up and were teaching children carpentry, building / construction, IT, tailoring, electrical "engineering", aircon engineering (big business in Africa). I've attached some pics of this. Speaking to the children it was inspiring. They were all offered a future, a chance to get out of the bleakness of these huge camps which are like massive prisons that have become like towns or cities over the years, and they were all eager to learn, valued what they were being taught. Girls were even being trained as builders. It's amazing what capacity children innately have within them to better themselves and their lives. All they need is for someone to show them that there is opportunity for them out there, and that this depressing bleak existence isn't their lot!!! But without the local NGOs, and international NGOs like us, there's no-one to offer that. Their own government don't. People were happy too! Which, given their situation, inspired me and made me realise (yet again) how lucky we all are, and how we can't complain about our lot, as it's a hell of a lot more than most in this world.
We then left the VTC and headed into the heart of the camp/ desert to visit 2 families whose sons we had demobilised from the militia in the South (UNICEF did this bit) then traced their family and re-integrated them back into society (SCUK did this bit). We drove through the camp in our huge white landcruiser (al the INGOs travel in these in Africa - a standard symbol of neutrality and humanitarianism), right into the heart of the camps. Everyone was looking at the car as it thrw up dust, but all the kids (of which there were millions - sadly due to the high rate of deaths from HIV and lack of family planning) were nice and waved back and smiled when I did. The UNICEF vehicle got lost in the maze of huts, tents and homes, so we sat and waited for it. Whilst we were, a guy came up to me, so I rolled down the window and he started speaking to me in some African language. I don't speak any tribal languages, surprisingly enough, so I just smiled and gestured that I didn't understand. He then said something in a mix of English and his own tongue, so I asked him to repeat himself about 3 times, which he did. And all I understood was "black man" and pointed to himself, eyeing me quite agressively. Hmmm..... "I can see that", I thought! I was so tempted to point to my own chest and say "White man" or "Slightly Brown man", but resisted, for fear of offending him or his intelligence. But I had a wee chuckle to myself in my head anyway. Turns out he was an ex-military nutter, and the Sudanese staff who were accompanying me moved him along politely. Oh the fun.
Once the UNICEF vehicle arrived, me and this Egyptian-French woman got out and headed to the house of one of the families. It's funny. The people in the IDP camps are SO SO much more friendly than the average Khartoumian. We were greeted with smiles, and went into their home, which was a room with a few beds, so we sat on the beds, and all the extended family came out, and into the house, and everyone was really nice and shook all of our hands one by one.. Including the children, who kneel and offer their hand as a sign of respect. It was sweet. So.... after a bit of chit chat, and after someone ran out and procured some drinks for the guests, the first boy, Dut, came in and sat on the bed next to me and my UNICEF colleague. We started chatting to him, but his English was about as good as his Arabic, and it was easier to start speaking in hius opwn tongue, so Ayen (our Child Protection Officer) translated what I and she had to ask and what he replied and said to us. It was more of an informal chat really. Basically, the militia from South Sudan (hundreds of miles away through the desert) came through the camp recruiting boys as young as 11. When I asked him why he went, and if he wanted to, he said YES, and it was because they offered him an Education in the barracks, and better prospects in life, even promising to send them out of Sudan to Nairobi for international study. A better life..., The boy was only 12 years old, and all he could do was look around and see how bleak his future would be, and realise he wanted something better for himself and his family. Promises of money came too... So off he and his friend trot with the militia, his family stopped from taking him back by the "soldiers" / rebels taking him, to South Sudan, where they did get an Education as promised, were well fed, and given very little money, but all along they were getting military training to prepare them to fight in any rebellion / geurilla war. 12 years onld and an expert in how to use a kalashnikov. Impressive, eh? He fought for a year before we found him, and when asked about the things he did / saw, he closed up, hung his head in shame, stared at the floor, and either mumbled or stayed silent. The only thing I got from him there was that he'd watched his young friends die, or disappear, without a trace, and their families were there in the camp, watching with hopeful faces and wondering if we were gonna bring their little boys home in our car too. That was my breaking point, where I had to choke them back (there's always one on these trips). I've attached a pic of him sitting next to my colleague. He also told me he wanted to go back to the army. Leave his family. He told me this in front of all his relatives, as well! Still felt he had a better stab at a future with the armed militias and if that meant fighting to get an education.... so be it! Crazy. He was actually a lovely boy, as was his friend who came to join our discussion, but he had very visibly been affected by the experience of the last 2 years. I asked him whether he had considered a career in Khartoum, and what he could do here / what he was interested in, and why he didn't go to school here. He said he didn't go to school as the government make them teach in Arabic, and he doesn't speak it, and he said he liked driving the cars in the market (some of the outsiders would let him park the cars for them). So I asked him why he didn't try to be a bus driver or taxi driver.... he said because he didn't want all those dodgy people in his vehicle, and we all had a bit of a laugh at that. Anyway, the reason for the questions was because I was trying to get an understanding of his "needs" and "wants" in order that we complete the "re-integration" part of the work.... and if we didn't have a response / project that catered to his needs already, then I would recommend that we try and create one. I know we do all the other life-skill classes, but driving is something that we don't and I imagine we'd get a lot of kids wanting to learn to drive and if that'll keep them off the streets and out of the army, then it's something worth pursuing, and something worth going into my recommendations. Anyway, we chatted for a while longer, and had a laugh. There were about 20 of us in this tiny wee shack, but I felt so comfortable and the people were unbelievable welcoming and friendly. It was like I'd gone to visit my relatives from way back.... Amazing!
After that we left and went to a school that we were funding. The school day had ended but a commuinity group that we had set up, to represent the people in an area of the camp, were having a meeting. I sat in on it for a while, and listened to the 4 or 5 different languages, and the translations which followed, and realised it was more of a forum for complaining. At the end of the day, these people have loads of differences, and varying priorities, so I listened to what they were saying, and then I was asked a couple of questions direct. I always get it from 1, but when people ask me why can't we do XYZ.... I have to tell them that we are limited in what we can do, by our own goals, and by our donors conditions attached to the funding. We also need to ensure we implement sustainable projects that will continue to have an impact if and when we leave down the line somewhere. Some things we can agree to look at, and I can have an influence in some things, but it's not my place to get involved in the programme design. I was there as an observer that day. Hard to do, but true and people understand. Anyway, I left and went outside into the 40 degree baking heat to play with the cutest kids, who were playing with an old tire. Got to meet the sister, and the mum too, who was trying to get me to take her and the baby back with me. All just playful and joking around though, which was lovely. It was a perfect ending to a really meaningful and eye-opening day!
More to follow next week..... I'm heading to these pyramids on Friday a few hours north of Khartoum towards Egypt, in North Sudan. Apparently they pre-date the ones at Giza, even if they are smaller!!! I've attached a few pics for now. Hope you like. Better dash. This is an epic!
Sallam! Or "Peace"! One last thought, though, people... whenever you start complaining of feeling down about something... have a wee think and just remember that no matter what we're worried about..... we're never really "that" hard done to in this privileged life, now, are we?.......... OK, Oprah signs off.... ;-p

2006-08-31T18:14:00.000-07:00

India, Kashmir and the Himalayas - July / Aug 2006

Namaste from India folks (or Sallam Aleikum - since I'm now in Kashmir).
Arrived in Delhi early Monday morning (630am) after a decent flight over.Wasn't as "dazed and confused" as normal as managed to squeeze in 3 or 4hours sleep after Esme's leaving do, and before my wonderful flatmate et al. came round at 11am to party in the garden.... Was getting up anyway... Sowas reasonably fresh... Not when I arrived in India though (thought it'd bea good idea to take a sleeping tablet 4 hours before arriving, didn't I?). Anyway... as with my previous experience in India, Customs / Immigration was AWFUL: painfuilly slow and inefficient, and I seemed to be standing in whatI thought was a queue but turned out to be more of a disorganised gaggle of *****. At least this time people weren't resorting to fainting and crackingtheir heads off the marbe floor, to get through customs on a stretcher.
Walking out of the airport, immediately confronted with the familiar hot, damp and humid air, the smell of piss and sewerage, all blended in with the sweet smell of insence, all took me back to my days when I was living in SE Asia.... Ahhhhhh..... I had come home, thankyou please!! Was greeted by our driver, carrying the SC logo as per, and was driven and checked into the hotel (or glamorised guest house)...ordered Chicken Tikka, Dal, Rice and Nan (had to do it, even tho it was830am)... then crashed for 3 or 4 hours again til I had to get up to go to the office and meet the Director and all the staff (armed with by "Please benice to me for the next few weeks when I'm telling you you're doing a shitjob and can do better" chocolates - they're the sweetest!)!!!

Spent the next week working during the day... just having meetings in theDelhi office, and planning my field trips for the following 2 weeks. Alsohad a huge presentation to give on the Friday at some swanky hotel, and had senior staff from all over the region coming (my god what a negative bunchthe Indian programme were..... moany b*stards)!!! I was sh*t hot (as usual)but didn't get tip top feedback like I usually do (I'm told nobody is fond of showering compliments here).... Anyway, I knew I shouldn't have skimpedon the chocolates at duty free (went for after 8's as it was 2-4-1).Celebrations all the way from now on - experiment results noted and actioned!!!

In the evenings we (my colleague and some other visiting consultants) wereout and about on the town, going to markets, risking our lives in auto-rickshaws and dodgy eateries (think there was sh*t coming down the walls in one - see pic), and chilling out in this AMAZING cafe / chillout(non-alcoholic except irish coffees) bar called Mocha... which had PROPER coffee from all over the world and 30 different flavours of Shisha (including a champagne cocktail one)!! So I had a wee toast to Lizzie,battling her way through (men and ?*?*? in) Thailand!!!

Sat, I arranged a private luxury aircon vehicle for the day to drive us the4 hour rollercoaster ride to Agra, to see the wonderful Taj Mahal(I wantedto get the train there with the locals for the experience, but we werelimited for time... and they only had standard class tickets left!!!!)!

And wonderful it was! Arrived there c.1030am, told our little cycling rickshawguy (who we had to take from the car park due to the ban on cars due to theterrorist threat) that we'd be an hour, and ended up spending a good 3 hours there. I was initially worried due to the overcast skies and generally crapweather, but it all added to the mysterious and enigmatic feel / view of theplace, and got some great pics. It's true what they say.... she's amazing no matter what time of month....?! See pics attached... Tried the Diana pose,but don't think I quite pulled it off. I was having a bad hair day, as u cansee (well... I don't have no hair)! Oh Yeah... thanks to Matt and Jon who left bits of my hair uneven when they both, drunken and wasted, had a feeblebash at shaving it on the morning of my departure!!! I should knowbetter!!!!

Flew to Srinagar, in Indian-administered Kashmir, on Sunday morning for the start of my 2 weeks in the field (my favourite bit). Flying over the mountains and into the Kashmir valley was amazing! Coming down into the valley and into the town... all the buildings at / in / near the airport were painted camouflage. You'll all know (I hope) that India and Pakistan are fighting over Kashmir, and there is a HUGE military presence here. On arrival at the airport, I was whisked away by the army, interrogated, and asked to complete forms and register myself (people/ foreigners apparently have a tendency to go missing, be abducted or are murdered - careless lot)! Was then taken by the arm, escorted out of the airport and down this long militarised road by an armed soldier on the proviso that I had someone there with an ID card that I knew, and an address to take me to).

I met Rashif, and they took all his details etc. and let me go.... My GOD. there are more armed soldiers and paramilitaries here than even Somalia and Ivory Coast, and that IS shocking. 5 million people in Kashmir, and 500k troop (1 for every 10 people). At the time of the Mumbai bombings last month, a number of tourists were killed in Srinagar as part of the daily grenade attacks that take place.... most being thrown into the open windows of vehicles. Hence we have been moved from the beautiful houseboats on the famous Dal lake... to somewhere (not quite as nice) close to our office / big villa masquerading as an office. Damn our security manager...... I was this close ><>

Kashmir is lovely. And the people SO hospitable. Kashmiris are actually very beautiful (and fair) - well, I can say that for the men.... most of the women are covered up (it's 97% muslim here). Been here for 4/5 days now. Went to the field today. Up into the mountians to have a look at and assess some of the projects we do (both emergency - for the Asian earthquake that rattled Pakistan and Indian Kashmir 10 months ago - and non-emergency). Visited 3 schools, met and chatted with the teachers, the children, the local community, Education ministers, etc. Basically I look at what impact we've achieved. Get the opinion from the actual beneficiaries on the ground (the teachers, community and mainly the children) - straight from the horses mouth, so to speak. And talk to them about their experiences before, during and after the earthquake and how Save the Children (SC) have supported them. We have rebuilt schools, repaired others where the roofs and walls fell in, provided jute matting for children to sit on (they didn't even have seats and they have VERY cold winters up here in the mountains), pencils, new books, SC rucksacks (which they love), games, safe play areas, latrines etc.

We also train teachers in child participatory and child-friendly teaching methods, set up Village Education Committees and Children's Groups for Development (CGDs) which gives children a voice in how they are educated and treated. We also train all groups in child rights and protection... and equip them with "life skills". You'd be surprised at how effective some of these groups are at getting other children (dropouts or children whose parents can't afford or don't let them go to school coz they are sent to work) enrolled in the village schools. I saw this in Somalia too... it's amazing! The children are like little adults, and are good sources of information as the feedback and opinions we get from them is not biased by politics or personal opinion / biased pov's.... it's pure innocent observations. It's sad.... these communities have such low enrolment rates (insecurity, poverty, apathy for the government education system (or lack of), and cultural attitudes being the main drivers), however now enrolment has rocketed, since our intervention. In fact, in one village we poached 20 kids (unsolicited, of course) off the local private school (which only costs 250 Rupees a month or £3), coz word got round that the SC supported school was doing good and children enjotyed coming to school..... Not bad results eh? Good indicator of impact (work brain kicking in here)... Anyway..the kids were great and villages SO hospitable and friendly. Everywhere I went they were giving me tea and bicsuits... brought out with the best china from the local village, along with table and chairs and got to meet all the village elders. I've included some pics...

I also visited a Vocational Training Centre (VTC) for adolescent girls. We're piloting 8 of them in certain villages. This is for girls who've never been to school, or dropped out, or made to work from home. We gave priority to orphans of girls from a household with no male breadwinner. They're being taught (by an experienced local) how to embroider and make garments, so they can sell them at the local market. Once they're up and running and can be self-funding, we'll set them up with a bank account and pull out. It took 2 months to make 1 garment. The embroidery was THAt detailed. I sat on the floor in this room with 10 14-18yr old girls, and some Kashmiri colleagues and heard about their lives and what they were doing before we set up the VTC... in Kashmiri.. then translated. Again... tea (sweet with dessicated coconut, which was strangely nice - roll on the coconut tea parties - forget the C&C night at the beauty pageant, Rob!), biscuits and cucumber (yes... it's apparently what villagers give to guests as it's what they always have / grow in the village). Have attached pic of me, and the girls in that wee room too (see pic above)! At the end I asked them if they had anything else they thought they needed, and they said a radio.... So I promised to fund the couple of hundred rupees to buy them a radio... Merely a pint to me... and endless happy days to the 10 of them!!!!! Where's the justice in the world?

Anyway, nearly done here... at the weekend I embark on my painfully long and weary 2-day and night drive over the Himalayas to the Leh, in the district of Ladakh (or Little Tibet as it's known), on the border with China / Tibet. It's supposed to be the most amazing and breathtaking (and scary) drive in the world. Over the Himalayas, and through every landscape imaginable (from lush green ricepaddies and alpine forests to barren and desert moonscape and mountain glaciers).

I'm visiting projects and there's a few Buddhist monasteries in the mountains along the way as we reach our destination, in the middle of nowhere, and Lhasa 2, where the Dalai Lama lived when in forced exile from Tibet.

It's the 2nd highest motorable pass (and coldest) in the world (always have to add in a bit of geographical / educational content). Will spend a night, half way, climatising to the altitude and then a day at the other end / top as well, with Oxygen on hand (",). Then 3 nights there... then flying back to Delhi. Back to London on Sat 12th Aug when I wil most certainly be ready for getting trashed and losing myself in Vauxhall Village somewhere (3 weeks of detox is a bit much!!!).

Things I learned this week:

You CAN come to India and not get Delhi belly!!! (Touch wood);

Do not touch balls after applying tiger balm (yes! - despite my pastaccidents and a recent reminder from a close friend);

Do not say "NO" to tea from a Kashmiri - especially one with a gun;

Stop discussing politics in a war-torn or post-conflict state (willI ever learn?)

Always check that the plumbing is connected before p*ssing into a urinal... or you will get wet and smelly feet!!!

2006-03-17T13:32:00.000-08:00

SOMALIA - March 2006

Jambo from Kenya, folks!

Well, all here is good. Here's something for you to read when you're bored
on a Friday... This may be a mother of an email but I promise it's
interesting, and with pics for those of you who don't read and write too
good.

Wed 15th March - Been in Kenya for 4 days now. My plans have changed and I
can no longer go to two of the offices I planned to in Somalia as one was
evacuated 2 weeks ago, and the other just 2 days ago, after I arrived. The
first place, Garowe, was a political thing, with fighting and killings
between 2 politicians and their militia groupies, when one overthrew the
other. We were renting one of their houses, and were therefore a target.
The second was yesterday, in Belet Weyne, where one of our guards shot
another one (whom he had been playing cards and eating CHAT with all night)
all because he was late back from his breakfast. He shot him dead, right in
the staff house I was going to tomo... Weird, eh? This "chat / gat" stuff
is a leave that makes you really high. Around 80% of Somali's chew it.
It's like ecstasy, apparently, making you feel euphoric, happy and awake,
and you think you can solve all the world's problems. You also suffer from
cum downs too. Maybe why that guard shot the other one dead in the morning,
when he ran out of gat / chat. Now the dilemma is if the guy has the cheek
to turn up and report for work.. We can't have a murderer working for us,
but last time we sacked someone, 45 armed militia took over our office...
Not good! The guy is on the run for a couple of days though until the clans
talk and the family of the deceased decide if they will accept dia? /
monetary compensation (100 camels or the equivalent in cash), or if not, if
the deceased has brothers or an adult son, they have the right to bring him
out in public and kill him right then and there for all to see. I will
never understand traditional Islamic justice.......

Thursday 16th March. So, my day began with my alarm going off at 4.15am,
after only getting to sleep at 1am. Tired, sick and baggy-eyed, I took a
shower, grabbed my bags and left for the airport, to catch my flight, put on
by ECHO (EC Humanitarian Organisation) who along with the UN and Ethiopian
Airlines who are the only people brave enough to fly into Somalia. On
arrival I think we were the first people there. There was a special
unmarked check-in desk, and after protocols, I went through to wait on my
plane... Standing in the queue of 12 people at the gate, I suddenly
realised that I needed the toilet, and on enquiry, found that there was none
on the plane. But the Kenyan lady helping us assured me she'd show mw where
to go near the plane. On reaching the plane on the airstrip, I discovered
why. The Fokker plane was the size of a small bus (picture attached). I
actually felt quite important as it looked like a small private jet and I
got talking to some of the other NGO workers and they were telling me about
the evacuation procedures and how many times we've had to evacuate, and what
to expect etc. I was excited. Anyway, the "place" I had to go was basically
a bit of grass next to the plane in the middle of the airfield. Lucky I
didn't suffer from stage fright .. what, with 13 others standing watching
me.... not this time anyway... 10 minutes and a very bumpy take-off later
we were in the air and on our way... I decided to catch some Z's and slept
for the next 3.5 hours.

When I awoke we were coming down through the clouds into the Somali desert.
Barren, dry, hot with the odd bush... is how I'd describe it. It was bumpy
as hell, and a couple of times I was sure we were gonna flip right over.
Hence the doggie bags (which I was warned about), which were actually the
size of black bin bags. I wasn't afraid though... I thought "If I'm gonna
die, I want it to be somewhere interesting and something that people will
remember."

The desert airstrip was literally in the middle of nowhere, run and
protected by the UN, and when we stepped off the plane, MY GOD the heat!
You really did feel it burn your skin. It was about 40+ degrees!

I was met by our rep, did the immigration thing (NO CUSTOMS, as no law,
really, which was good as I was given 2 satellite phones to carry from
Nairobi) and escorted (armed) away in a blacked-out land-cruiser to our
office in the nearby capital of Somaliland, Hargeisa. Somaliland is
strangely beautiful. The semi-arid desert landscape, with the camels and
goats and dried out trees and bushes.... Oh, and passing decaying and rusty
military tanks and airplanes abandoned in the desert, all added to the
"ambience"! I stayed in a hotel compound that night, protected by the SPU
(Special Protection Unit), who are Somali nationals, armed, trained and
funded by the UNDP to protect and escort international staff in and around
Somaliland. Next morning was the 5 hour drive out to the field where I would
spend the next week, almost, visiting the projects and the children and
looking at the programme work we do there.
The drive was lovely, through the desert, over the mountains, tailed by our
armed escorts all the way, until we arrived in Burao, in the region of
Toghdeer. The office and staff house was in the same compound, and it was
like an oasis in the desert, although not big and free from trees etc.
enough for me to run around, so I was facing almost a week of no
exercise.... Not good. What was I going to do? Ended up having a bit of a
dodgy tum for a couple of days so that no doubt made up for the lack of
exercise, and therefore it all evens out in the end!
This next bit (in yellow) is really just what we do in Somalia... and the
findings I've just typed up from my meetings and visits in the past 2 days
of work so skip it if you're not interested down to the paragraph beginning
"Anyway........". It's pretty impressive though!
What we are doing in Somalia / Somaliland. We have 2 main programmes in
operation: an Education programme (with funds we received from the EU,
DANIDA, Comic Relief and Band Aid) and a new pilot Primary Healthy Care
programme (funded by URF - proposal to EU in the pipeline). When SCUK
arrived in the region, the situation with the education system and schools
in the region was wholly inadequate, the main problems being:
§ Lack of infrastructure, due to the heavy shelling / destruction of
most houses and schools in the civil war;
§ Uneven distribution of existing schools, with most in urban regions;
§ Overcrowded classrooms;
§ Mixing of ages, e.g. from 6 to 18-20 year olds in one class;
§ Lack / absence of textbooks and materials;
§ Lack of education policies and standard curriculum;
§ Corporal Punishment and breach of child rights per UNCRC;
§ Discriminatory attitudes towards girls, IDPs, minority groups,
working children, nomadic children / rural pastoralists (who move their
herds and families every few months depending on the seasons and severity of
drought, and therefore cannot access the formal education system);
§ Gender and socio-cultural factors, including:
o Preference to send boys to school due to fact that women become
property / family of their husbands in later life and therefore accept
responsibility;
o Lack of girl-friendly schools (distance, lack of female latrines in
schools, absence of female teachers / role models etc.);
o Preference for Qu'ranic teaching;
§ Lack of quality education (90% teachers not trained, experienced or
qualified);
§ A government / administration that did not pay salaries to teachers
(most teachers unpaid, except if by local communities).
We therefore piloted and targeted 17 schools in the Toghdeer region of
Somaliland as a test pilot scheme, which eventually proved so successful we
expanded to the entire region. The Education programme activities / work we
initiated and continue to do in the region include:
§ Building and re-constructing schools (to increase the number from 27
(pre-intervention) to the current total of 80);
§ Upgrading the skills of teachers through training sessions (on
curriculum development, participatory and child-friendly teaching methods,
child rights issues);
§ Building and establishing a university in the regional main town
that offers teacher training programmes and we pay for them etc.;
§ Providing teachers incentives (currently the "administration" in
Somaliland do not pay teachers) and salary and accommodation supplements
when opting for our training sessions during the school break periods;
§ Working in partnership in order to provide on-going support in terms
of training, capacity-building and skills development to the Regional
Education Office and ministry of Education;
§ Promoting UNCRC - to tackle the problems of corporal punishment
prevalence, gender imbalances.
§ Introducing Alternative Approaches to basic Education (AABE):
o Designing mobile schools (to tackle the 70% pastoralist / nomadic
population);
o Working with the religious leaders to introduce some subjects to the
Quranic teachings which is compulsory for ALL children and therefore will
reach ALL girls in the communites too (tackling the gender imbalance issue);
o Initiating flexi-time or shift systems into schools, including
afternoon shifts and night classes, in order to accommodate working children
(especially girls) - which has proved successful, with % girls attending
these classes averaging 60%, instead of the previous 44%);
o Working in vocational training centres and adding subjects to the
curriculum there (to reach those children whose parents do not see the
importance of traditional and formal education).
The impact of our intervention in the Toghdeer region has been profound:
Indicator Pre SCUK intervention Now Change Change (%)
No of Students 6830 13960 7130 +104%
No of girls 2097 4370 2273 +108%
No of teachers* 216 460 244 +113%
No of classrooms 167 376 209 +125%
No of schools 27 80 53 +196%
Girls as a % of enrolment total 30.7% 31.3% 0.6% +0.6%
*N.B. No. of female teachers has also increased dramatically and SCOTT
project will specifically fund the training and qualification of female
teachers in Burao and Hargeisa Universities.

In essence, we have significantly increased access to basic education in the
region such that the number of students, teachers, classrooms, schools etc.
has more than doubled since the start of our support. This, coupled with
achievements such as increasing the quality of basic education, introducing
child rights, establishing and enabling community education committees
(CECs), introducing participatory, child-centred teaching methods, creating
safe and adequate water and sanitation facilities, training and
capacity-building of the local staff and MoE workers etc., demonstrates the
significant value that SCUK is adding and warrants our continued presence in
the region.
Anyway... if you didn't read the above, Save the Children are basically
doing a sh*t-hot job here, and have made the area we work in the best in
terms of education in the whole country!!! Pat on the back for the
dedicated souls who brave it here (actually, once here, we mostly employ
nationals.... It's part of our strategy.. So not TOO many foreigners....).

So today (Sun 19th March), I went to visit one of the schools in the rural
communities, a couple of hours drive from where I'm staying. The drive was
long, and saw some interesting settlements and camels and dik-diks and LOADS
of sandy desert along the way... We arrived and got out of the nice
air-conditioned Land Cruiser we were travelling in and basked (or burned?)
in the baking 40-degree heat! Met with the headmaster and asked him loads
of questions, which received really long answers (in Somali), which
translated weren't that long... It's either a function of the Somali
language and its inability to condense points and ideas into short,
structured sentences, or he was saying things the translator (also from
SCUK) didn't want me to hear! My "benefit of the doubt" attitude forces me
to believe the former..... Hmmm!

Anyway, after that I met with the Child Education Committee (8 reps from the
local community who are like a PTA but with more power). I checked to make
sure there was adequate female representation, what challenges they faced,
what support (financial, technical and capacity-building) they'd received
from SCUK, how they envisaged their role developing etc. All was going well
until near the end when I asked the translator (Fatima) to ask these
community elders if there was anything they wanted to ask / discuss with me.
Well, Fatima entered into this HUGE debate, quite heated, for quite
sometime, and there's me, sitting there, smiling back at the agitated and
visibly passionate panel / group in front of me, when it dawned on me.. they
might think I'm sitting there like a smug b*stard, grinning at their
misfortunes and concerns.... Needless to say, my welcoming smile soon waned
and turned into a serious expression of concern. Until they laughed, of
course. Then I was smiling again.... Anyway after what seemed a life-time
of this awkwardness, I decided to stop Fatima and ask her to fill me in non
what they said. Basically one of the women were saying "We are contributing
to our children's education too", and also complaining about something to do
with the teachers salaries. I thought
"You ungrateful b*stards. If by contribution, you mean the kids have to
bring a pail of water to school a week, then fine... But if it wasn't for
our help (and the help we give to 79 other schools in this god-forsaken
place) there would be no school, no teachers, no water to bring and no
sanitation... There are plenty of other regions in this country who have
none of this, and ....". Then I shopped... Thinking, that is...
Instead I (professionally) adopted the official line, and explained that we
have done extensive studies in the region, and are MORE than aware of ALL
the challenges the country and communities are facing. We are always here
to help. We will and do wherever we can, and to remember that it is the
responsibility of the government and the communities to pay teachers
salaries, not SCUK. We are a global INGO, and will not be here forever and
therefore we look at implementing sustainable approaches to basic education,
and are covering salaries / costs / books and materials etc. in the interim
whilst the current emergency situation subsides, and the government (if u
want to call it that) pull their bloody finger out!

After that I sat in on a class to look at and assess the teaching methods
and see how the teachers were trained to deal with disciplinary issues. I
then met some of the children from the "Student's welfare association" that
we have set up in all schools in order to provide a forum for students to
voice their concerns and feel included. Basically, talking to them about
child rights, and if they'd been trained / taught by SCUK (and by their
teachers, who were trained by SCUK) on what their basic rights were. It's a
core part of our policy that I need to make sure all children, partners and
staff are aware of and have been adequately trained in. Feedback was
positive so that was good. They were actually really good, and even told me
some of the strategies they employed to try and mobilise the other children
who didn't / couldn't come to school.... Quite touching and inspirational,
seeing how proactive these underprivileged children were and what a
difference the organisation makes to their lives... so all of you who
decide to buy something for your mother for Mothers Day from SCUK can know
your money is going to good use!
Anyway, on the drive back, it was dead funny.... We got to a check-point
and realised that our armed escort at the back was nowhere to be seen. We
radio-ed and turned around and found them about half a mile back on the
desert road. One of the armed soldiers was leading a wee boy from the
bushes and into the Landcruiser. Hmmm... what's going on here, I thought?
Apparently, the boy had been throwing stones at passing cars... And just his
luck, the one he decides to hit is no other than the SPU's LandCruiser. The
poor boy was sh*tting himself. It was a shame, but funny at the same time.
Anyway the soldiers were taking him to the village at the checkpoint to tell
his parents. When we got there, they led him over, and the checkpoint
operator (of the same clan) took the boy, unchained a goat from the tree he
was sitting under, and chained the boy to the tree by the arm. I have to
say, it was quite funny, but then also a bit inappropriate, as alarm bells
in my head started ringing "Save the Children" or "Save the Child" in this
case... So I thought.. "Sh*t! What was I told in training?... Oh, that's
right! Don't directly intervene, and NEVER put yourself at risk.". My
ideas of jumping out of the car and stopping this from happening soon
subsided when I remembered where I was and saw the amount of guns being
waved about. Stupid Alex. Lucky for me, sober Alex, as I'm sure my thought
process wouldn't have reached the same conclusion in the time I'd taken to
mobilise myself to get out of the car. Anyway.. that was funny! I tried to
get a pic of the boys and the soldiers, but just managed the soldiers. See
attached.

Monday 20th March - It's now 10pm, and I've just had my dinner. I have had
a dodgy stomach on and off for the past 4 days.. Not good. Not good at all.
Thought it was over today at lunch, as the doctor here (one of the staff in
the house with me) gave me some pills, but No. No.... I began thinking it
was something in the water. Maybe I ate a bit of salad washed in local
water. Summat like that. Then I began blaming the cook here (Anub). She's
lovely, I thought, cooking my meals, washing and ironing my clothes,
cleaning up after dinner, and she tries to practice her English with me
every day. That's how it started. But as the days have gone on, she has
gradually become that suspicious one who is poisoning me slowly with rotten
camel and goat meat, and goat liver too. For breakfast. Seriously. That's
what I've been forced to eat every day. The others even asked me if I was
vegetarian at one point... "No, no, I thought! I just have very sensitive
taste buds, and human teeth, and cannot eat your meat without incisors, and
what, me, with my sense of smell and all.....". I have been experimenting
daily with the various treats she has brought, scientifically testing the
various different combinations of food groups and I've narrowed it down to
the meat and the fruit. Tomorrow I will have cracked it, and her game will
be up! She's been eying up my camera phone and Ipod. I'm onto her...

Anyway today I went to a health centre which we re-opened in an IDP
(internally displaced persons to the lay-person) settlement, to see what we
were doing to help there. We basically have re-opened the existing
structure that was there. When the refugees, or returnees, or whatever the
PC term is now (returnees these were called), were re-settled here from
Ethiopia after the end of the civil war in 2002, the UNHCR (High Commission
for Refugees) as per its mandate, provided water facilities (a tank),
latrines, 1 school and a Health Centre. At the end of its mandate about 2
years ago, it was passed to the Ministry of Health (which does not function
as you would imagine an organisation christened with the title "Ministry"
would), and it basically fell to ruin and closed. So as a pilot, we have
taken over and re-enabled 4 health post sites in the region in the past few
weeks, setting up community health committees (CHCs) to help and get a say
in the management of the place, providing training, drugs, immunisations
etc. It was amazing. The place is now run by 3 community health workers
(CHWs), non-qualified members of the community. We treat pregnant mothers
and children under 5. Whilst I was there, the whole village came out it
seemed. I watched as the workers there showed me what they do. They were
measuring the height of babies and children (on instruments that more
resembled Victorian torture devices - pic attached), then weighing them, and
referencing them to a nutrition chart. They were then registered in a book,
and classed as normal, malnutritioned or severely malnutritioned. Health
education and emergency medicines were given. Mothers were given advice and
iron for anemia. No blood tests there to test for that though. Merely a
quick look in the eyes. Much cheaper than our methods in the UK. I then
chatted with the CHC and CHWs and had the most amazing experience listening
to their stories, and concerns. I then got a lot of "appreciation", as a
SCUK representative, however had to deflect and push that onto my Somali
colleagues who are the ones who are working there every day. The whole
experience was a lot less hostile and more friendly than the School
committee I met the day before, let me tell you!

Now I'm onto the boring stuff for the next 2 days... having meetings in our
compound here and working, typing up things..... before travelling back to
Hargeisa (the administrative capital of Somaliland) for a day or 2 then
catching my wee flight back to Kenya, this time with UNCAS, as there's no
space for me on the ECHO plane. It's not too bad, I suppose, as it's really
hot and sunny here, and the compound is relatively peaceful. Can't work on
my tan as I'd like to, though, as taking my top off in a strict Muslim
country like this is a definite no-no. Day-um.... There's always
Kenya..........

Friday 24th March - Back in our offices in Nairobi. Nice to be back in this
environment and the decent hotel, with the great gym. I'm dead from all the
"catch-up" exercise last night.

Plane ride back was good. UN flight and got chatting to some cool guys, as
well as another consultant working for SCUK from London. The flight dropped
one person off in Somalia grand (1.5 hours away), then we hopped 45 mins to
a remote UN airstrip just outside of Mogadishu (where the film Black Hawk
Down was set) called K50) to refuel quickly (PIC ATTACHED), before hopping
to Ethiopia and finally onto Nairobi, dropping off 1 person here and picking
up 1 or 2 there...
Just heard that that murdering guard reported for work. Cheeky b*stard, no?
We're in a bit of a f*cked up situation now and have to have a crisis
meeting!

Tomorrow I'm off to the Masai Mara, armed with my proper SLR camera with a
decent zoom, for a 3 day safari in the wilderness. Chose to camp, as I love
the sitting round the campfire, drinking beer, and sleeping out in the
wilderness, listening to all the animal noises... That reminds me, I had a
beer for the first time in a week and a half.... Aaahhhhhh!

Hope you all have a great weekend, and see some of you when I get back next
Friday for some good ol' debaucherous fun...

Alex

2005-12-23T02:20:00.000-08:00

Cote D'Ivoire - December 2005Hello everyone,

I hope you are all well. Well I arrived safely in Ivory Coast on Sunday night. Almost missed my flight, as I stupidly went to the 2 Brewers on Sat night after my party and got home, ate KFC, and went to bed without setting my alarm clock. So I was awoken, having only had c.4 hrs sleep with the phone ringing as the taxi was outside waiting. NOT good, considering I hadn't packed all my bags, and I was cutting it fine as it was. Then I get to the airport and discover that AIRFRANCE have decided to employ the most retarded staff available, and fed them temazepam in order to make them go slower..... Almost missed my flight. Fights nearly breaking out at the checkin desks and everything.

Anyway the flight over was OK. Although I have to say that Airfrance is not a patch on Singapore airlines in terms of quality of service and leg-room and entertainment. Sorry, frenchies!

Arrived in Abidjan, the "capital" of Cote D'Ivoire after only a 6-hour flight from Paris. Were collected from the airport by our SC driver, and met some aid workers from the UN in the queue, who briefed us on the security situation. For those of you who don't know... Cote D'Ivoire is one of the only 2 countries (along with Somalia) that the British Foreign and Commonwealth office advise against all travel. But we were assured that the security plan in SC was good, and we would be OK as our names were added to the UN Security plan and we'd be covered by the UN in the event of an emergency (well, the country has been in "emergency status" for some time now already). So we leave the airport and start driving to our hotel compound. Noticed on the way though that all that lights were out and ALL the whole city / streets were literally pitch black. There had been a power cut in the WHOLE country, and it was feared the rebels / militia had done it, as a new PM had been nominated that day and it was likely that some fundamentalists in the government controlled south or the rebels who control the north half of the country above the UN buffer zone would try to start war). So there was a lot of tension in the air, and our guide told us that our plans to leave Abidjan the next day and travel north might be cancelled if there was any violence erupting on the streets, and transport links closed. We were supposed to be jumping in with the UN World Food Program on a flight they do north once a week, but that was cancelled, so the plan was to have a security meeting at 8am in Abidjan at the office, and leave ASAP to drive north for 8 hrs to the field if the Security situation allowed. Something I was just a wee bit worried about, if truth be told.

Anyway got to the hotel / Guest house which was in this security guarded compound approved by the UN and had to fill in check in details by candlelight. Then was given A candle to go to my room for the night. I was sh*tting it. Especially when later on that night I heard gunshots being fired in the streets whilst lying in bed. Anyway thankfully the lights came back on and we were taken out for food by the local Ivorian staff from SC. Met some characters... really nice people though! And quite beautiful, the West Africans.

Anyway next morning went to the office for a security briefing by 8am. Couldn't get on the flight with WFP so after we received our reports from around the country and the UN and other NGOs, the programme director decided that we should leave ASAP for Guiglo in the north, where we deliver our programmes, before any violence / demonstrations broke out on the streets of Abidjan and the security / army / guerrilla checkpoints got paranoid and trigger happy. Violence was expected from the Jeune Patriot activists / fundamentalists, as they'd been demonstrating at the possible appointment of every PM put forward. Anyway, now it's been a few days and there doesn't seem to be any sign of insurgency, so everyone is taking a sigh of relief. Anyway that's the history / current affairs lesson over. Ha ha! ;-)

Travelling up here to Guiglo, the scenery was beautiful. Very lush in places, and loads of villages along the way. What's overwhelming is the number of children everywhere. I suppose that's a by-product of the lack of family planning education etc. and child mortality rates here. Also along the way were a vast number of checkpoints, some army, some militia. Luckily we didn't get stopped as we have the SC logo branded on the vehicle, a struck-out kalashnakovs logo/ sign to indicate we were not armed, and travelling in a UN convoy for most of the way... the driver also was checking into "mission control" after every checkpoint (all "controls" to manage the security risk... I'm speaking from an auditor's point of view now! How sad am I?)...
Anyway, got to Guiglo, went to the field office to meet all the staff, then left for the place I was staying (and delivering my presentation / workshop for 2 days) and arrived at the most beautiful tranquil catholic retreat, where which had accommodation. I thought, "Yes, accommodation's bound to be clean and nice." Alas, NO... BASIC! A damp bed, and luckily...... a small light attached to the wall. Stone floor. Chair. That's all. Insects everywhere outside. Not my idea of somewhere I could lay my weary head after a hard day's driving.. So we went out for dinner, and LUCKILY.... There was a room free in the SCUK guest house which they own / rent. Ahhh... it was CLEAN, had a local cook, cleaner, houseboy who makes breakfast, does dishes, cleans up, and constant security guards in the grounds 24-7. And with ALL the normal things a house has, like sofa's, a TV, dining table. It's the simple things in life you appreciate when you don't have them. So think I will stay here and work for a few days from here before moving onto the other field offices. Got to meet rep's from UNICEF and other NGOs tomo (well, that's my excuse anyway)...

On a work level, the work we do here is split into 2 main thematic programmes at the minute:
ü Health - where we set up and run mobile clinics to provide primary health care to children and mothers, so as to aim to reduce child sickness and death.
ü Protection - where we negotiate the release of boy soldiers with the rebels in the border region with Liberia. We also have IDTR experts (Identification, Documentation, Tracing and Reunification) who try to re-unify displaced and separated children with their families. It's horrible listening to some of the stories and things that the boys have seen and had to do / endure. Makes you realise how lucky we all are, and how trivial some of our problems can be in comparison.

Have made friends with some cute young children who are here in the village. They loved me, coz I had my digital camera, and was taking their pictures and could show them straight away. They wouldn't leave me alone after the first time, and kept bringing their friends, and a dog at one point, up to have their picture taken too. Have got some great ones!
Another problem that wasn't foreseen / warned by SC is that would have to communicate in bloody French with loads of people who don't speak English. My French is crap now, though has VASTLY improved since I got here. It's amazing what the survival instinct in us makes us capable of.

Anyway, I know that I have gone on for ages, and you're probably busy or not interested, but some of you might be bored at work and this can be a mind-numbing distraction. And it also serves as a diary for me to look back and remember my trip.

So those of you who want no further instalments from future trips, please let me know, and I will try to delete you from my group list.

I hope everyone is well and enjoying the Christmas festivities. Wish I was there enjoying all the Xmas parties and feeling the cold... It's so hot and humid here it's uncomfortable, and I have a sweaty ****** by lunchtime... Nice!!!

A bientot, mes amis! Portez-vous bien!

Alex

Part 2

Let me start by saying "You are not gonna BELIEVE what 'appened ta metoday!" What happened.. to me... today? My life is like a film!"(Catherine Tate extract - got to get one in somewhere).
Anyway, I have not had a chance to exercise AT ALL in the past 2 weeks. Ifelt so sluggish this morning, and restless, and fat, that I had to go outfor a run. We can't leave the compound, otherwise we wont be protected bythe UN Security Plan we're signed up to, so I thought... Fine, I'll just runup and down this street (it's not too short). Started jogging up the streetto one end, past all the lovely houses with security guards outside everyone, got almost all the way and then I go and come across some guard dogs,who start barking madly at me.... Vicious looking huge mother-f*ckers. Allwas fine, I thought. They're tied up, so I just slowed down, walked pastand then jogged to the end of the road. Turned back, and started joggingback down towards MY hotel, past the tied-up guard dogs... Or what I thoughtwere tied up guard-dogs. Nope. One of the little f*ckers was loose, andcame running at me. Needless to say, I sh*t a brick. Stopped dead in mytracks. Clutched onto my Ipod like it was going to save me: maybe if Isqueezed it hard enough, I would disappear before the dog reached me. Alas,no. My plan had failed, and I was confronted with a vicious, huge, angrydog. We looked at each other, and I thought for just a moment that I hadun-nerved him with my evil eye, and he'd run off, flee, scared of me and themysterious, magical powers of my weapon (my ipod that is). But once again,no. I was wrong. My canine chum decided, instead, to try to take a bite atmy hand, at that moment clutching my IPOD.Luckily I jumped back at the precise moment his jaws were about to clasp myhand, and he missed. I ducked, I dived, I... (that's blatantly not true -would be funny though). After the wee b*gger took a swipe at me, thesecurity guards came and chased him off, and I was left to go along,continue with my only pathetic, feeble attempt at exercise in 2 weeks, whichended, sadly, when I reached the hotel again, around 4 and a half minutesafter I left the hotel. My morning jog cut short. My hopes dashed. Mywaistline, ever-increasing!
Anyway that was the start to MY morning!
So the night I signed off last time, we went out for brochette du capitaine.Fish fillet on a skewer to you and I. The food here is amazing. Well,there are 2 places that do REALLY good fish. Everything else is a bit...well... ahem, let's say "unusual", shall we (I did tell you about hedgehogand groundhog)! The day after the email I had a meeting with the UNHCR(United Nations High Commission for Refugees) and UNICEF. I had to see whatwork Save the Children were doing in collaboration with them too see if itwas an "optimum" relationship, and whether we were all working together likeone big happy family to gain maximum benefit for the we'ans..... Blah blahblah... But the meeting was delayed, because of an "event" in themorning...
I got up at 6am (there's a curfew in Guiglo between 10pm and 6am - whichmeans you're inevitably in bed by 10 or 11 at the latest as there's nothingto do but work), and our house boy / cook / cleaner (Moosa) was setting thetable outside on the porch for breakfast, while I was working in the livingroom. There was a lot of kerfuffle? outside and I heard our security guardsopened the iron gates. Next thing Moosa runs in and says, in French, "We have to call Dr Assa (one of our doctors / program officers)... a woman hasbeen beaten unconscious on the road (well, a dirt track) outside"... Turnsout a woman had been beaten by her husband or partner, apparently foradultery. Then he (Moosa) turns run and tries to run out with his "Save"top on. Sadly, we had to stop him, and tell him that we couldn't getinvolved (political reasons), and shouldn't he call the police, quickly.Anyway, to cut a long story short, we sent Moosa to get a Taxi to take thisunconscious woman to the hospital, whilst the whole community just crowdedround. The guy had done a runner and was nowhere to be seen. Later thatnight, Moosa told us that they had went to the village chief / elder, and he>agreed to resolve the issue, and pay for the hospital treatment, and the man/ woman would be dealt with by "traditional justice". I didn't want to askanymore.....
So anyway that was the start to my day last Thursday.... Meetings went wellthat day and spent the next 2 days interviewing the SCUK staff at theoffice. Boring stuff, most of it. Like looking at how they receive, storeand handle cash in the absence of security and a banking facility, how theystore their assets, how they track vehicle movements and ensure staffsafety. But also interesting stuff. Looking at the systems and agreementsthey have in place for selecting partners to support and train, looking athow they distribute their medicines and community health support / training,assessing how they go about devising strategies to negotiate with themilitia for the release of child soldiers. That was all really good, and theday just flew in when I was doing that. Didn't get all the information I'dlike to, but then again, I could've been there all day every day for a weekand still felt that way. Hate that about audit... you have to try and knowEVERYTHING about EVERYBODY's job and tell them how it could be improved....When these guys have been doing it for ages.... How the hell do you dothat? Especially when you're telling people.. look, you should really tryto do this... knowing full well that everyone's under pressure as it is....You feel like such a f*nny! Oh, well, it's what I get paid for, it serves apurpose, and if I don't do it, somebody else will. That was for those ofyou who were asking what I do when I go away. Not SAVING CHILDREN, per se,but helping other, more selfless people do it!
Left Guiglo at 8am Saturday for the marathon journey back to Abidjan (viaJouquai where we were meeting up with another pick-up carrying my colleaguewho was in an other place for a few days)... Met the UN convoy on the way.Oh my god! Can you imagine travelling in a massive, long convoy of 30+white trucks / land cruisers and armoured vehicles with the UN logoemblazoned on them. Travelling along these African roads, through villagesand towns at high speed where everyone's carrying fruit / washing / spareparts / children and whatever else on their heads. Everyone just stoppedand stared. Every 4 vehicles there were these land cruisers with cut outroofs (big sunroofs, really) with an armoured UN worker with camouflagedcombats and a blue helmet hanging out of it with a huge machine gun strappedto the roof. Everyone else was kitted out in the camouflages and blueberets - the (in)famous UN peacekeeping troops (anyone seen Hotel Rwanda?).There were busloads of them (mostly Bangladeshi, funnily enough). TheFrench military were also tagging along... but they were in their own greenarmy trucks, a bit behind. There was a big strategic meeting for all thepeacekeeping troops, apparently. Anyway, it was pretty cool, if a bit mad.
So anyway, arrived in the capital on Sat night. Went for dinner and that wasit. Next day though, they lifted the travelling restriction to the beaches(Cote D'Ivoire is very tropical and has AMAZING beaches which used to befull of tourists before the civil war), so we were allocated a driver forthe day and went to the beach (with a little craft shopping along the way).Beaches were stunning. Paradise. Picture attached. Bought a woodenhand-carved chair, and table, and some other nik-naks. For next to nothing(dunno how I'm gonna get them home, but hey!) So anyway since then justbeen working in the capital. And that's IT! My days go like this:

5.45am: Wake up. Turn on laptop. And music.

6am: Shower and change.

6.15am: Sit at laptop and work / type up findings of previous day.

7.45am: Picked up and go to work for a Security briefing at 8am.

8am: Security Briefing.

8.15am-5.30pm: Back to work - meetings etc.

6pm: Back to hotel / GH.

6pm-9.30pm: Work in GH / apartment, typing up findings of day (withdinner in between).

9.45pm: Bed.

So NOT very exciting at all, this week anyway....
However all is not lost, it's Thursday morning, 6.30am, and the Programme>Director has said he's taking us out tonight to the Hotel Ivoire (nicestotel here) with the director from Save-Sweden, to relationship-build. It'sour last night here too. Despite it being really interesting and enjoyable,I can't wait to get back, to be honest.
"All those Xmas parties! Punch! Presents! Kisses under the mistletoe!
Guess how many Xmas parties I've missed in the past 2 weeks.Go on, take a guess.....How many parties..... have I missed...... in the last 2 weeks?Just guess!
A LOT?!!!!!!!"
Yes, it is....."
For those who didn't get that, you are missing out on something important inlife and I suggest you ask Santa, nicely, for the Catherine Tate Show DVDfor Xmas. Best buy of the year! You heard it here first!

Anyway, what else has happened here?
The night before last, 2 staff from MSF (Medecins Sans Frontiers - anotherINGO) has their house broken into. The Security Guards were tied up. Thestaff were "roughed up" a bit, tied up, and had everything stolen. Luckilyit was not violent and nobody was seriously hurt. Funny thing was... thiswas supposed to be one of the "safe-houses" in the event of an emergency /civil unrest. Didn't give me too much confidence in the UN Security Planthat's for sure. Anyway... one more night to go, so... actually, let's nottempt fate...Well, on that note, I hope everyone's having fun in the run up to Xmas.Will be good to see you all for a festive beer, if possible (given geographytc.), and if not, then have a Merry Xmas and drunken New Year.

Cheers for now. Take it easy,
Alex

2005-11-07T18:29:00.000-08:00

Indonesia - Aceh and the Tsunami Coast - Oct/Nov 2005

Hello one and all..... Or should I say Selamat malam, kawan-kawan! (MyIndonesian is coming back with a vengence too- just as well, as hardly anyspeak English).
I have at last arrived in Indonesia - Banda Aceh (last night). iT'S VERYHOT, AND rather unusual, with lots of buildings reduced to rubble and dustbecause of the recent earthquakes or the Tsunami and it's aftershocks. Andthis is in the main town as well, away from the coast. The devastation onthe coast stretched for hundreds of miles (yes, literally hundreds - biggerthan England), and it's pretty dire / desperate. I'm going to visit anumber of the programs over the weekend so will get a better idea of thingsthen.. I'll forward pics too. So much destruction and disease. Speaking tothe locals, and the staff that work for us, it seems that EVERYONE has lostimmediate family members. And in horrific circumstances, like they had tochose between saving a daughter or a mother etc. Heartbreaking! Listeningfirst hand to their accounts of it... it sounds pretty amazing that peoplesurvived at all.
The accomodation here is VERY basic indeed. No shower so I am washing froma barrel / large sink with a jug, and the toilet is manual flush (throwingwater down it, basically). I have seen a rat in our office today... thatwas nice. But other then mosquitoes that's about it on the bug front sofar. I'm well stocked up on bug spray / killer / nets / room aroma burners.
It's Ramadan so NOBODY eats or even sells / prepares food in the day so Ispent the first part of the morning starving and almost passing out andeventually eating crackers for breakfast. Very satisfying... I then hadhalf cooked supernoodle type things in a mug, which was probably the mostunappetising thing I've had this year! Hard noodles in a mug with oilyluke-warm water! Hmmmm, i hear you say....Guess how much, though? Go on.... guess how much I paid for my oilylukewarm undercooked pasta in a mug?£1000?£1000? I wasn't bloody feeding the 5000. (THey're all fasting!) 8p. 8pis what it cost.God. That's cheap!Yes...... it is!(Sorry.... imagine that was Catherine Tate. It might sound funnier. It'sfunny in my head anyway!) I think I is goin mad!!!
The people here are lovely so far. The SC houses and offices are prettycool / nice. Got aircon etc. which is a god send. It was over 30 degreesyesterday. We've got Save the Children vehicles (lots) and our driversdrive us everywhere. We're not allowed out alone for security reasons.They (military) know to leave us (INGOs like us, Oxfam, Care and UNICEF)alone with our oficial logos painted on the cars and the "no guns" symbolson the windscreens. It's all very weird, as we're issued with militarydiplomat passes and given security training etc. This is how I spent mymorning, going from one corrupt bureaucratic institution to another.
I took too many sleeping tablets on the plane so slept most of it. Thoughtit'd be a good idea to take another a couple of hours before reachingSingapore and so couldn't stay awake in Singapore, in Java (at Medan airportwhere I slept for 8 hours in the grubby domestic departure lounge on top ofmy bags) or when I got here. I have slept shitloads in the last 2 days(probably just as well after the last weekend). And now I am SICK! Yes,sick after 1 day here. I am coming down with a fever and they fear that itmight be malaria or dengue fever. There are a lot of cases of that goingaround right now, and I stupidly checked in my anti-malarials on the plane,so couldn't take them the day before I arrived. So fingers crossed!! That'sall I bloody need. Lying in a shabby bed in a rat-infested town all on myown, hallucinating with fever, and nobody to look after me with my nightterrors!! The tropical diseases doctor will come see me tomorrow. I think Iwill go home after this, before I collapse, and take some sleeping tabletsand sleep for 15 hours.... Hopefully by the time I wake up it will all beover! I don't think it's too serious, myself. I've got swollen glands tooso I think it's probably just that! I used to get that all the time.
Other than that, it's pretty cool. Lots of interesting things to work on /see / do. Save the Chuildren do a lot of good stuff over here, as do theother NGOs. There are shitloads of these blackened out new jeeps with NGOlogo's emblazened on them, which we are all driven artound in. So manyforeign development and relief workers. Although no healthy night scene /social activities as the province is DRY and a curfew is in place.... I wasin bed sleeping by 9pm last night. Good detox opportunity, I suppose.Although I heard from the others, a nice guy who I met at lunchtime fromUNICEF, that there is wine at their house so I'm going round there fordinner one night later in the week! That should be a treat after my days ofabstaining!
Anyway, this probably isn't making to much sense / bit jumbled, and my headis a bit screwed from the jetlag and the fever, so will go and try to getover this whatever it is. I'm sweating buckets sitting here with thisfever! Roll on the hallucinogenic / vivid dreams tonight!Yay!
Hope you're all well. Will email more news when I have it... Feel free toemail with goings on where you are when you have it....
Terima kasih!love to all,
Alex