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 (and more) 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 have 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?
You had already possessed a healthy dollop of wisdom at a young age...adrenaline jobs are addictive and as such- a HUGE trap. Most don't get that until it's far past too late. Good on you. And, it's something that I have to remain conscious of- in my job- providing mental health services for folks who are buried alive by one crisis or another...It's compelling but ultimately, it's consuming.
ReplyDeleteBeing seen as an emergency WASH staff member - or later, as a consultant - I got to compare how different organisations deal with their staff returning from pressure cooker type situations. Returning from Afghanistan where we had been behind the Russian lines, UNICEF was only interested in what we saw; not what we experienced. The first time I returned from an MSF tour, almost the first contact was asking about my mental health - and when I expressed surprise, they phoned me twice more a couple of weeks later, just to check that I was, in fact, not affected.
ReplyDeleteThanks Ken - it is only in recent years UNICEF took stress counselling more seriously - and even then it was very hit and miss. I once had an incident occur - and asked HR if there is any resources - she referred me to the UN shared stress/trauma counseller under UNDSS. I went there - the lady had a terrible contract with UNDSS and was very stressed and kept asking me for a job at UNICEF in child protection. Big help. (Rob here). Frankly I was more worried about these European guys addicted to the adrenaline of Burundi and the beautiful "staff" who greeted them.
DeleteThanks Rob, definitely worth some reflection. I think there is often a modest dose of adrenaline and a limited level of commitment involved. Many young people, particularly from Western countries, take a gap year, join the Peace Corps, travel, or dedicate some time to a cause they believe in. They usually do not yet have families or children to care for, are relatively financially secure, and are eager for adventure. Working for an NGO in emergency relief can also provide a sense of purpose and recognition, even when they have little professional experience.
ReplyDeleteFor example, during its early years, Operation Lifeline was largely implemented by several hundred poorly paid NGO workers and volunteers. Most were young people, with the occasional older participant, living for months in tents without electricity and enduring the constant buzz of mosquitoes. The consortium's work was supported by fewer than a dozen UNICEF and WFP staff members. There also were the ‘international’ Un staff, including a communication officer, who never set foot in Sudan.
Some of these young volunteers eventually became experienced professionals, while most returned home, hopefully a little wiser. In many ways, I think this is how relief operations function. I am less concerned about those who seek the thrill of immersing themselves in an emergency situation than about those who believe they can, in a war situation, provide meaningful relief by remote control.
Thanks Detlef. The workers I referred to were not in their 20s or volunteers (those exist also - I was one of them at age 21 once)--these aid workers were often in late 30s or 40s or even 50s. I knew some of them and after some drink stories leaked of spouses and families back in Brussels or Ottawa or Seattle - somehow they seemed addicted to being in war zones and all that entailed. I was more troubled by this addiction and wondered about their spouses and kids back home vs the young women (welcoming crew) they dated and the sniper areas they navigated so brazenly. Were they saving lives - or saving themselves from a mundane life back home - or was it both?
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