Adrenaline or Commitment? by Rob Carr

Ken's article on coffee and Burundi brought back a strange memory I have never shaken off. During my time with EMOPS I was in and out of Burundi often during the mid/late 1990s, supporting the country team through volatile cycles of crisis and lull. Sometimes I thought I was being helpful, sometimes it was clear my "support" was less helpful and even was soundly rejected. Most of my career I worked in country offices (6 country offices and once in HQ) - but I was still young and learning some of the pitfalls of coming from HQ to a crisis zone.

I will never forget my first flight into Bujumbura. The city was surrounded by conflict, and the tension was palpable. Yet, as our plane taxiied toward the unique, hut-shaped terminals the mood among the NGO workers on board shifted dramatically in a perplexing way. (see photo of Bujumbura airport--from high in the air this looks like cluster of traditional round huts--up close these are modern terminals and offices of the airport.)

Watching the NGO workers' reactions, I realized they weren't drained by returning to a crisis zone; they were energized by it. Their tired eyes from the previous legs of long flights were wide open and lit up as the fasten seat belt sign was turned off and the plane lurched to a stop. They smoothed their tussled hair and popped in a piece of gum and SMILED. What was happening? Waiting on the tarmac was a group of beautifully dressed local women. This was a "welcoming committee" of sorts for the returning NGO staff? Indeed most of these tired men were met with jubilant hugs as they arrived.

The contrast was stark. Perhaps back home in Europe, they lived quiet, unchallenging lives. But in Burundi, they lived on a high-adrenaline diet of risk, intense hours, immediate impact, and complex personal relationships. They were effectively operating in two entirely different worlds.

That moment taught me a critical lesson about humanitarian work. It is easy to lose perspective when chaos becomes an escape from ordinary life. I vowed then to limit my time (and if I am in such a place -  keep a perspective)  in high-crisis environments.  I needed to find joy in mowing my grass or painting my kitchen in suburban New York and also to be able to focus when dropped into a crisis in some war torn place.   I came to realise that when we use global crises to fill personal voids, the work can stop being about the people we are there to help.  

I imagine this is something most XUNICEFers may gave experienced in one way or another.   Have you ever had such an experience - or had such an epiphany in the midst of a crisis?  How did you juggle the mundane things back home vs the crisis you were dropped into?