was walking through my old alma mater, Trinity College, when I spotted a
poster that the universe conspired to hang in my line of vision: "MSF Info
Evening, Walton Theatre, 7pm".
For those of you that don't know it, the acronym stands for 'Médecins Sans
Frontières' ('Doctors without Borders'). It's an NGO which I had always
heard the name of, but didn't know too much about. I knew that it was
something about medical aid and thought that it was French. I suppose having
lived in Paris for a year, I would have heard it bantered about… in France
it was considered the NGO 'par excellence', the equivalent of Concern in
Ireland or Oxfam in the UK. However, it's 'frenchness' has changed and it is
now an international organisation.
So to cut a long story very, very short indeed, I now find myself having
volunteered for (or been employed by, depending on how you look at it) MSF
and I started my job as a supply logistician in N'Djamena, the capital city
of Chad in Central Africa, on the 31st of December, 2009, the final day of
the so-called 'noughties'.
I will spend at least the next nine months based here in N'Djamena, trying
my best to ensure that MSF projects in the East of the country get the
medicines and materials they need to fulfill their objectives.
It's quite bizarre to find myself in this situation because, in theory, this
is what I've always wanted. Since my early twenties, my lofty career
objective has been to become a dynamic problem solver in an aid or
development field scenario. I thought about the UN, the EU, IrishAid,
Concern, Goal, Trocaire and many other organizations in this field… but all
I did was 'think' about them. I never applied to anything or made much
effort to actually land such a position. In my head, I had rationalised this
'laziness' by saying that I would spend my twenties gathering relevant work
experience so that I could be active in this sector by the time I was 30.
And then what happens: all the powers of the universe, all the karma, all
the deities and spirits and fung shui and all that malarkey come together
and represent themselves in a little white A4 sheet, clumsily sello-taped to
a wall, brandishing the insignia of my future! Step 1: Go to the Walton
Theatre… Does it get any easier?
Well… apparently it does! I spent today snoozing on a deck chair at the side
of a pool in the Le Meridien Hotel here. It was a very humanitarian
experience altogether! Having fought it out in Dublin's damp cold for the
past few months, what a frickin' pleasure it was to chill the hell out and
catch some of those Central African rays.
Now before anyone gets the wrong idea, let me qualify myself here by saying
that I get a certain daily allowance here to spend (or save) as I wish.
Being a Sunday, and pretty much the only day of rest in an otherwise jammed
week, I decided to fork out the exorbitant entry fee and let my weary body
bask in the winter sun.
I arrived into N'Djamena at 11pm on the 30th, three days later than
scheduled due to visa f*&k-ups combined with a passport caught up in the
Christmas postal pandemonium. It was a good time to get here though. New
Years Eve was a day of briefings and inductions followed by a NYE session to
break the ice with the new team (and NGO expat community). New Years Day was
a bank holiday and I nursed myself back to health before a light day of
briefings on Saturday and the aforementioned day of sun-worship today.
Tomorrow though, (sh)it will hit the fan … My first full week of supply
logistics!
I have to be in top form though, and given that I start work at half seven,
I'm off now to catch forty winks… Must try not to get tangled up in my
mosquito net tonight.
Your man in Chad!
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