Posts
What's new on the other side of the world? I wonder who is winning in the Stanley Cup playoffs, and if the spring rains have come and gone, and how life is treating you. I guess I have been away for almost 6 months, which neither is nor feels like a long time. It is quite interesting how different life is here from France, from Maroc, Germany, or Canada. And yet life was quite different between each one of those countries as well.
One thing that has maintained a consistency from France then to Uganda and now to the Congo is the damned cold showers that attempt to plague my existence. Sure it's nice and hot here, so the cold shower is much more refreshing than those taken in the tree stunting winds of Southern France, but the first 15 or so seconds still are an unnecessary and needless to say unpleasant shock to the system.
It's been a busy week in terms of celebrities, President Kabila was supposed to show up for some form of session or negotiation or talks on the local abundant petroleum reserves. These reserves are quite close to the border to the more developed and hence more capable (at extracting petroleum) Uganda. There is unease in my mind to this possible problem, I mean if everywhere else in the world wages war over petroleum, is it too big of a stretch to imagine war returning to this conflict ravaged region? These people are just in the first stages of recovery from their last grotesque machete de-limbing guerre here in 2003, and with the prospect (at least in my eyes) of another possible conflict…. Not so trop cool.
But the President didn't show up, yet, as he tends to prefer more surprise oriented visits for reasons of security. Surprise visits make those coup d'etats that are oh so famous in developing countries harder to organise and accomplish for some reason. Celebrity number two; Ben Affleck showed up here at MSF's hospital in Bunia for his new ABC television program depicting a well known American actor posing as a journalist in places where he isn't known. Funny thing is, most if not all of the MSF staff didn't recognise him either, one even gave a tour to Affleck's group and then had to ask which one he was. Apparently he holds less notoriety in Europe. Side note: celebrities are not as rare as one would think with MSF, Angelina Jolie was here in Bunia visiting the hospital shortly after the war in 2003.
On the more cooler side of life. Watching a movie at the Medical staff quarters I was summoned by one of the guardians to return to the non-medical staff quarters, as there was an ongoing disturbance. So I got in one of the faded pink LandCruisers with a chauffeur and bumbled down the road. Greeted at the gate by a very angry Congolese woman, and a scared stiff (rather small) member of the national staff. God knows what he said to her that resulted in such fury, but needless to say he probably won't do it again. 30 minutes later, and with the reinforced steel gates closed, she stopped pounding and hollering so I was able to send the chauffeur and his Cruiser back to base.
Falling asleep less than half an hour later, knocking on the door woke me. The Hospital director, on his way to Manhattan (the bar), had been informed that a little girl needed blood to make it through the night, me being O+, I was the candidate. I suppose whenever we give blood at home we are saving a life somewhere someday, but the realisation was a bit more pronounced for me that Saturday night. For me, trop cool dude. Thanks Mama and Papa for hooking me up with O+.
That concludes the second update from the "Heart of Darkness."
26 May 2008
15 May 2008
Update 7:
For some reason, one that as of yet still isn’t clear to me, I was required to show up at Entebbe International 2 hours and 45 minutes prior to the departure of the Congolese pond-hopper. Literally we hopped over the big pond, Lac Albert, which separates Uganda and the Uturi province in the Congo. Apparently my luggage was 10kgs overweight, but the nice gentleman behind the counter, after a serious argument, only made me pay 5 USD. My guilt for arguing over such a small amount of money was soon exponentiated when, while waiting on board the plane I witnessed the pilot telling a passenger that we would be overweight if he boarded the plane. Nice start Daniel.
I did not witness the previously relayed accounts of pilots praying and crossing themselves prior to flight, likely because it was an American pilot. This provided me with more confidence, not him being American but more so that he didn’t feel that he had to pray. The flight over Uganda was largely uneventful, and I can easily say I have flown over much more remote regions in Canada. Leaving Uganda airspace over Lac Albert I quickly got my first really good glimpse of the Congo. I say really good because the plane was scarcely higher than the peaks of the mountains we flew through.
Customs were hot and sweaty, with 10 people crammed into a locker sized room in high humidity and temperature. The process was smooth enough, another 20USD on top of the 300USD visa. The Toyota LandCruiser that symbolises MSF transport looked funny with pink paint in contrast to it’s usual white. I found out soon that due to the heavy concentration of the United Nations here, we apparently do not want to be confused with them. Alors, Pink.
The first two or three days were a tad worrisome. I didn’t understand a single word that anyone said. Everyone spoke at once, or incredibly fast. The Congolese French can be hard to interpret, and still is, but I can pretty much get through it now. I have now been here for two weeks. I turned 27 on my second day in the Congo. There wasn’t any fan fare. I didn’t know how to call home, and didn’t really feel the urge, sorry. I was likely the most alone I have ever been on a birthday, but strangely, I felt not an ounce of loneliness. As such, my birthday came and went like any other day. It was a good day.
I have 13 chauffeurs under my direct supervision. But in essence I have no real responsibility. I am here to learn as much as I can. I am pushing to be involved in emergency and exploratory missions, but not too hard until I feel more comfortable with my French. The hospital is big, in total there are around 350 people who are employed in order to maintain it and it’s services. The sky and clouds are beautiful, it’s the rainy season, and though it only rains once every few days, when it does, it comes down in sheets likely at a rate of 4 or 5 inches per hour, but only for about 15 minutes. Everything is soaked, and then instantaneously the sun comes out and dries it all up in about an hour leaving no trace of the torrentuous tempest that was there moments before.
On a weekend trip to Lac Albert, the first pleasure trip in 8 months for other expats (first for me in 4 days), we got to see a portion of the countryside. We saw only one baboon, a handful of waterfalls, overloaded trucks and motorbikes, cows with massive horns and a few very curious Congolese. That night I was welcomed into Africa traditional style with a fever, diarrhoea and an upset stomach. Two days later I felt much better, but my derrier was so sore from all the toilet paper that I could barely sit down. A week later and it is almost all healed up.
The UN presence is crazy. Every 3 out of 4 vehicles are white with the big black or blue letters of UN on it. There are many posts with heavily armed sentries, patrol units, armoured all terrain vehicles. So far I have seen Aussies, Pakistanis, Moroccans, Uruguayans, and probably others all kitted in their camo fatigues and blue helmets.
There is little socialization between NGO camps and the military, and is quite frowned on upon. Although on big soccer nights members of all the NGO’s put that aside and join together at the MONUC house (UN social house), to watch the games on the big screen. I have no doubt that during the Olympics; I will spend a fair amount of time there. They also have a gym there that I tend to use as frequently as possible.
Since this past Thursday was a jour ferier (bank holiday), on Wednesday night I went out with a couple of the doctors. I had no intention of going, but soon found myself as the only white guy in a bar called Manhattan. I could not have stood out anymore than I did. An MSF shirt with the sleeves cut off, red board shorts, and a whitey (muzungu in Swahili) in the midst of many watu weusi (black dudes and chicas).
Planning to be there for only one beer I chilled on the milk crate (supposed to be a chair, and with my bum in such a state, I found it rather uncomfortable). Every time that I moved to get up they would order another round. 5 or 6 rounds later, at 750mL a pop, I had made a trip to the bathroom, turned the MSF shirt inside out, ripped off the tag, and found myself on the dance floor dancing to the Congolese beat. Luckily for me I can dance well enough that I didn’t look like the typical giant white dude in a floor packed with not so whites.
That was my first week or more.
I did not witness the previously relayed accounts of pilots praying and crossing themselves prior to flight, likely because it was an American pilot. This provided me with more confidence, not him being American but more so that he didn’t feel that he had to pray. The flight over Uganda was largely uneventful, and I can easily say I have flown over much more remote regions in Canada. Leaving Uganda airspace over Lac Albert I quickly got my first really good glimpse of the Congo. I say really good because the plane was scarcely higher than the peaks of the mountains we flew through.
Customs were hot and sweaty, with 10 people crammed into a locker sized room in high humidity and temperature. The process was smooth enough, another 20USD on top of the 300USD visa. The Toyota LandCruiser that symbolises MSF transport looked funny with pink paint in contrast to it’s usual white. I found out soon that due to the heavy concentration of the United Nations here, we apparently do not want to be confused with them. Alors, Pink.
The first two or three days were a tad worrisome. I didn’t understand a single word that anyone said. Everyone spoke at once, or incredibly fast. The Congolese French can be hard to interpret, and still is, but I can pretty much get through it now. I have now been here for two weeks. I turned 27 on my second day in the Congo. There wasn’t any fan fare. I didn’t know how to call home, and didn’t really feel the urge, sorry. I was likely the most alone I have ever been on a birthday, but strangely, I felt not an ounce of loneliness. As such, my birthday came and went like any other day. It was a good day.
I have 13 chauffeurs under my direct supervision. But in essence I have no real responsibility. I am here to learn as much as I can. I am pushing to be involved in emergency and exploratory missions, but not too hard until I feel more comfortable with my French. The hospital is big, in total there are around 350 people who are employed in order to maintain it and it’s services. The sky and clouds are beautiful, it’s the rainy season, and though it only rains once every few days, when it does, it comes down in sheets likely at a rate of 4 or 5 inches per hour, but only for about 15 minutes. Everything is soaked, and then instantaneously the sun comes out and dries it all up in about an hour leaving no trace of the torrentuous tempest that was there moments before.
On a weekend trip to Lac Albert, the first pleasure trip in 8 months for other expats (first for me in 4 days), we got to see a portion of the countryside. We saw only one baboon, a handful of waterfalls, overloaded trucks and motorbikes, cows with massive horns and a few very curious Congolese. That night I was welcomed into Africa traditional style with a fever, diarrhoea and an upset stomach. Two days later I felt much better, but my derrier was so sore from all the toilet paper that I could barely sit down. A week later and it is almost all healed up.
The UN presence is crazy. Every 3 out of 4 vehicles are white with the big black or blue letters of UN on it. There are many posts with heavily armed sentries, patrol units, armoured all terrain vehicles. So far I have seen Aussies, Pakistanis, Moroccans, Uruguayans, and probably others all kitted in their camo fatigues and blue helmets.
There is little socialization between NGO camps and the military, and is quite frowned on upon. Although on big soccer nights members of all the NGO’s put that aside and join together at the MONUC house (UN social house), to watch the games on the big screen. I have no doubt that during the Olympics; I will spend a fair amount of time there. They also have a gym there that I tend to use as frequently as possible.
Since this past Thursday was a jour ferier (bank holiday), on Wednesday night I went out with a couple of the doctors. I had no intention of going, but soon found myself as the only white guy in a bar called Manhattan. I could not have stood out anymore than I did. An MSF shirt with the sleeves cut off, red board shorts, and a whitey (muzungu in Swahili) in the midst of many watu weusi (black dudes and chicas).
Planning to be there for only one beer I chilled on the milk crate (supposed to be a chair, and with my bum in such a state, I found it rather uncomfortable). Every time that I moved to get up they would order another round. 5 or 6 rounds later, at 750mL a pop, I had made a trip to the bathroom, turned the MSF shirt inside out, ripped off the tag, and found myself on the dance floor dancing to the Congolese beat. Luckily for me I can dance well enough that I didn’t look like the typical giant white dude in a floor packed with not so whites.
That was my first week or more.
Motorbikes and My Life Mentality
Somehow things happen in life that seem at times a bit too uncanny. I read a book called “Hills End” when I was really young; the main dude in the book was super cool and had a Honda 500 motorbike. Many years later I turned 16 and bought my first motorbike, a Honda 500, I might not have been super cool but at least I had the bike. Lot’s more of these things happened that I choose not write about here for your sake. But the biggest one to date would be what I decided to do last September. I decided then that I would work for MSF and go to the Congo. I was so confident that I would work for MSF that I told people that I would be doing so, long before I even applied let alone interviewed. I wanted to go to the Congo and said I would be, before getting a contract. Here I am in the Congo, with MSF. Dreams can come true.
I still respect and can understand you if you think of me as one that told a mistruth. As I told folks that I would do these things before I did them. I can see why you would think this way. I have noticed however that as time goes on, and experiences amount, that I really have been able to become the person that I wanted to be, and have done what I wanted to do. I really wanted my dreams to be realized, to achieve these dreams I went in the only direction I knew, to go forth and blunder through whatever obstacles arose along the way. I had no idea what problems I and I alone would encounter on my path. But I do know now that I can be who I want to be, if I have the dedication.
To be frank (and not the person) I can’t tell you that I know where I am going any more or less than you. I can’t predict the future, and I would be quite surprised if there are those that have the ability. I have had many dreams, with the big ones realized, for a while it was to become an Engineer, to have a stable, secure job that would more or less guarantee a more or less easy lifestyle. The thing with life for me is that once I have realized a goal; I get bored and need to find a new goal. I think I have discovered and am working towards attaining the goal that will set me free. I don’t know if I will ever actually get there, or if anyone ever does, but the voyage along the way is and will be worth it in any case.
For those that have known me at various stages in life, and more than likely the same applies to most, high school peers would say that I changed between high school and university, university friends would say that I changed between university and where I am today. To this effect I believe I am not unique. We all change in some ways. For some the change can be gradual, subtle and sub-conscious, for others it can be relatively rapid, stark, obvious and conscious; but nevertheless it usually occurs.
The changes that I went through prior to 2007 were of the sub-conscious and subtle variety without leading necessarily to any substantial benefit or detriment to my person. Following the culmination of the relationship with my first love, the personal changes that I chose to make were of the conscious, and to me the stark and obvious, array. What I experienced following the break-up was what I now consider the most defining period in my life. I needed, and wanted to change. I was tired of the person that I was. I was bored, and I had achieved the goal that I had set forth about 8 years previously (Engineering).
From my understanding a lot of us of the newer generation, those recently graduating from university (especially career oriented students), go through what is called the “quarter-life crisis.” Books have been written on the subject so I won’t elaborate; suffice to say that many people don’t even realize that they are far from alone. For many, the goal to go to university to get a “proper” education and find a “good” job starts early and to achieve this goal, many work hard for years. After graduation, a job is found, the goal/dream is attained and hence many are left wondering what next. Many do not enjoy their jobs, it isn’t what they expected or they have some other explanation for their emotional unease and un-directed ambition. I realize that I use the word many without any form of proof or statistics, all I have are my experiences, and those of my friends, peers and colleagues who have had similar accounts.
For my so-called “quarter life crisis” the problem wasn’t a lack of meaningful employment. I really liked my job and grew very fond of the people at the company. I am pretty sure that a long and prosperous employment would have been likely. I suppose one of my philosophies at this stage, good or bad, is that I don’t particularly want to be an expert in anything just yet, I don’t feel like that is my place in life. I prefer on the other hand to be pretty good at a lot of things, than great at any one thing. I don’t doubt that if someday I find something that I want to become an expert on, I will be able to do so.
On the personality front however, things were barely hanging together. Mentally and emotionally I was a wreck, with the support of my employment helping in no subtle way to keep me together. The pieces of life that I had conjoined in an attempt to make sense of things through the course of growing up had themselves grown into an extremely unstable and shaky structure. I didn’t like the person that I had grown into; I missed the Daniel in me. Most of the people that I met rarely saw him, friends saw him slightly more frequently, he got lost when I was really young, and Dan took his place. The difference in names may sound simple, or perhaps even a bit schizophrenic, but it is monumental in my efforts to return to my roots, to be the person that I know I can be.
Through the course of the past year or so, I have been choosing to live life in a constant state of growth. Choosing to change, to grow spiritually and to rework my consciousness was the cause of my period of serious yet temporary depression. I personally had to (metaphorically if not somewhat literally speaking) destroy the previously mentioned structure or fabric that I was made of. The structure of building blocks or pieces of life that had made me who I was required complete demolition. This process was immensely painful, and without the help of the most wonderful counsellor I am sure it would have been close to, if not completely, unbearable.
Through the course of the last year or two I have been able to sift through the rubble of personal debris that was the result of this personal choice. Pieces that didn’t fit together before found new homes; the blocks were shifted into a more coherent and meaningful manner. Through months of work, and continued to this day, I analysed my behaviour, outlooks, attitude, and ability to extend myself and constantly strive towards the greater good: to contribute to humanity. My goals have significantly changed, and while I am proud of the person that I have evolved into, I know that I had much help along the way. Strangers smile at me for no apparent reason. I leave lasting impressions on people I meet, as they leave substantial memories with me as well. Friendships or relationships formed are no longer shallow and superficial, but tend to be deep, meaningful and heartfelt.
When I embarked on the path of spiritual growth and evolution I had no idea where it would lead. I just knew that it was the right goal for me to pursue. If, as I stated earlier, I tend to easily become bored when goals are achieved; why not set upon a goal that would likely be very difficult to attain. A goal that would likely not leave me bored after attaining it.
My current knowledge and experience indicates that I only have the life that I am living; perhaps there is an afterlife, or re-incarnation. To me what happened before and what happens next is more or less irrelevant in the sense of everyday living. What I mean by that is that I try to live today as today, I want to experience the world, to learn, to grow, or in short, TO LIVE.
Tomorrow will bring with it what it may. I try to live everyday as though it may be my last, to be clear I call it the life mentality and not the death mentality. It is a newer mentality for me, although I have always lived with the principle of never doing anything that I may regret, and consequently never regretting anything I do. But the life mentality expands on that, and I am by no means pioneering this methodology as I think that I first read about the idea in a book called “The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari.” But life mentality explained; means to live today in a way that if I woke up dead tomorrow there would not be anything that I would have rather have done with my life. That I leave every person I meet with a good and true impression of me, and that I more or less live by the Golden Rule.
Inevitably, I sometimes still leave a bad impression on someone, or get angry with someone without due cause, or screw up in some other way. I have not yet perfected this way of life in all aspects, but I am quite good at it already, and it is so worth it. A few times I have been asked questions like If you could be anything or be anywhere in the world, what or where would that be? The answer is always the same, without exception or hesitation: here. I would be somewhere else or doing the other thing if that was what I wanted.
Although I have attained employment with MSF, that was never my goal. MSF is a means to an end. I have stated in a previous post that I do not intend on changing the world, at least not yet (hahaha), as I do not have the expertise, knowledge or experience to be able to do so in a way that would benefit earth-kind. My goal, for now, is to alleviate suffering in populations rampant with destitution. Since my current posting is more a training mission than anything else, I probably will not be able to fulfill my objective in any observable manner.
When I started writing this posting it actually had a completely different tone. I had no intent of writing what is written and I hesitate to put it on the blog. Somehow and for some reason I can’t explain, I feel it is my responsibility or duty. I strongly believe in being open and not having secrets. While it can sometimes be violently hurtful, discovering or uncovering the truth early on, the early discovery usually makes the information easier to digest in the long term.
I am definitely not attempting to preach, or to tell anyone how one should live their life. Too many people offer advice freely without really taking the time or making the effort to understand where the individual is coming from. I am also not saying that the way that I live should be followed by anyone. Nor am I suggesting that self-reflection or counselling or spiritual growth is necessarily your path. The purpose of this posting is to explain to you as clearly and as succinctly as I can in a brief manuscript some of the choices that I have made along the way, why I made them and the result/effect.
Furthermore, I can remember being significantly lost for quite some time and turning around in circles trying to determine which way to go. I remember not being able to find answers in anyone else’s words or advice. No one could help me get out of where I was, and trust me when I say that I left no friend in peace with phone calls at all hours of the day. To those friends, I am forever in gratitude for your patience, time and love that you showed me. I found out what real friends are for. That might be one of the many reasons why I continuously strive to form deep and lasting friendships to this day. True friends are irreplaceable.
But, when it all boils down to it, friends could not solve my problems. They were unable to walk in my shoes; they can understand, be compassionate, and listen empathically, and on the whole they may have helped me through the experiences. But they were not and never will be me. I alone am the master of myself, it is me that will walk in my shoes, come what may, thick or thin until death do I part.
I alone am responsible for my growth, to expand my horizons, to live. No one can do it for me. There is no icing to put on the cake, that is the blunt and honest truth. I can get through just about anything now though, no matter the breakdown, no matter how hopeless it may appear, that is one of the things that I have learnt, there is usually a way. So if I have the will, evolve, it is worth more than I can dream of.
While you may or may not gain anything from this posting, its purpose is to provide a possible option of guidance during a time of difficulty. I did not elaborate on the feelings I experienced during the course of the past but you can be assured that some were unbelievably annihilating. I remember periods of time so bleak that even the blues that accompany the Vancouver rains were analogous to the sunniest summer day on the beach in comparison. Or of times of blind fury. Or of times where the future was so blurry it didn’t look like it was there. But through Grace, or fortune, or perseverance, or dedication, or through the words of loved ones, or maybe even God I saw the light at the end of the tunnel and am able to dance to the Congolese beat today. To say the least, there is not a place in the world that I would rather be than dancing, laughing, singing, and rejoicing in all that life has offered. For without the bad I would not know the greatness in good.
With love and hope for the best in your future.
I still respect and can understand you if you think of me as one that told a mistruth. As I told folks that I would do these things before I did them. I can see why you would think this way. I have noticed however that as time goes on, and experiences amount, that I really have been able to become the person that I wanted to be, and have done what I wanted to do. I really wanted my dreams to be realized, to achieve these dreams I went in the only direction I knew, to go forth and blunder through whatever obstacles arose along the way. I had no idea what problems I and I alone would encounter on my path. But I do know now that I can be who I want to be, if I have the dedication.
To be frank (and not the person) I can’t tell you that I know where I am going any more or less than you. I can’t predict the future, and I would be quite surprised if there are those that have the ability. I have had many dreams, with the big ones realized, for a while it was to become an Engineer, to have a stable, secure job that would more or less guarantee a more or less easy lifestyle. The thing with life for me is that once I have realized a goal; I get bored and need to find a new goal. I think I have discovered and am working towards attaining the goal that will set me free. I don’t know if I will ever actually get there, or if anyone ever does, but the voyage along the way is and will be worth it in any case.
For those that have known me at various stages in life, and more than likely the same applies to most, high school peers would say that I changed between high school and university, university friends would say that I changed between university and where I am today. To this effect I believe I am not unique. We all change in some ways. For some the change can be gradual, subtle and sub-conscious, for others it can be relatively rapid, stark, obvious and conscious; but nevertheless it usually occurs.
The changes that I went through prior to 2007 were of the sub-conscious and subtle variety without leading necessarily to any substantial benefit or detriment to my person. Following the culmination of the relationship with my first love, the personal changes that I chose to make were of the conscious, and to me the stark and obvious, array. What I experienced following the break-up was what I now consider the most defining period in my life. I needed, and wanted to change. I was tired of the person that I was. I was bored, and I had achieved the goal that I had set forth about 8 years previously (Engineering).
From my understanding a lot of us of the newer generation, those recently graduating from university (especially career oriented students), go through what is called the “quarter-life crisis.” Books have been written on the subject so I won’t elaborate; suffice to say that many people don’t even realize that they are far from alone. For many, the goal to go to university to get a “proper” education and find a “good” job starts early and to achieve this goal, many work hard for years. After graduation, a job is found, the goal/dream is attained and hence many are left wondering what next. Many do not enjoy their jobs, it isn’t what they expected or they have some other explanation for their emotional unease and un-directed ambition. I realize that I use the word many without any form of proof or statistics, all I have are my experiences, and those of my friends, peers and colleagues who have had similar accounts.
For my so-called “quarter life crisis” the problem wasn’t a lack of meaningful employment. I really liked my job and grew very fond of the people at the company. I am pretty sure that a long and prosperous employment would have been likely. I suppose one of my philosophies at this stage, good or bad, is that I don’t particularly want to be an expert in anything just yet, I don’t feel like that is my place in life. I prefer on the other hand to be pretty good at a lot of things, than great at any one thing. I don’t doubt that if someday I find something that I want to become an expert on, I will be able to do so.
On the personality front however, things were barely hanging together. Mentally and emotionally I was a wreck, with the support of my employment helping in no subtle way to keep me together. The pieces of life that I had conjoined in an attempt to make sense of things through the course of growing up had themselves grown into an extremely unstable and shaky structure. I didn’t like the person that I had grown into; I missed the Daniel in me. Most of the people that I met rarely saw him, friends saw him slightly more frequently, he got lost when I was really young, and Dan took his place. The difference in names may sound simple, or perhaps even a bit schizophrenic, but it is monumental in my efforts to return to my roots, to be the person that I know I can be.
Through the course of the past year or so, I have been choosing to live life in a constant state of growth. Choosing to change, to grow spiritually and to rework my consciousness was the cause of my period of serious yet temporary depression. I personally had to (metaphorically if not somewhat literally speaking) destroy the previously mentioned structure or fabric that I was made of. The structure of building blocks or pieces of life that had made me who I was required complete demolition. This process was immensely painful, and without the help of the most wonderful counsellor I am sure it would have been close to, if not completely, unbearable.
Through the course of the last year or two I have been able to sift through the rubble of personal debris that was the result of this personal choice. Pieces that didn’t fit together before found new homes; the blocks were shifted into a more coherent and meaningful manner. Through months of work, and continued to this day, I analysed my behaviour, outlooks, attitude, and ability to extend myself and constantly strive towards the greater good: to contribute to humanity. My goals have significantly changed, and while I am proud of the person that I have evolved into, I know that I had much help along the way. Strangers smile at me for no apparent reason. I leave lasting impressions on people I meet, as they leave substantial memories with me as well. Friendships or relationships formed are no longer shallow and superficial, but tend to be deep, meaningful and heartfelt.
When I embarked on the path of spiritual growth and evolution I had no idea where it would lead. I just knew that it was the right goal for me to pursue. If, as I stated earlier, I tend to easily become bored when goals are achieved; why not set upon a goal that would likely be very difficult to attain. A goal that would likely not leave me bored after attaining it.
My current knowledge and experience indicates that I only have the life that I am living; perhaps there is an afterlife, or re-incarnation. To me what happened before and what happens next is more or less irrelevant in the sense of everyday living. What I mean by that is that I try to live today as today, I want to experience the world, to learn, to grow, or in short, TO LIVE.
Tomorrow will bring with it what it may. I try to live everyday as though it may be my last, to be clear I call it the life mentality and not the death mentality. It is a newer mentality for me, although I have always lived with the principle of never doing anything that I may regret, and consequently never regretting anything I do. But the life mentality expands on that, and I am by no means pioneering this methodology as I think that I first read about the idea in a book called “The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari.” But life mentality explained; means to live today in a way that if I woke up dead tomorrow there would not be anything that I would have rather have done with my life. That I leave every person I meet with a good and true impression of me, and that I more or less live by the Golden Rule.
Inevitably, I sometimes still leave a bad impression on someone, or get angry with someone without due cause, or screw up in some other way. I have not yet perfected this way of life in all aspects, but I am quite good at it already, and it is so worth it. A few times I have been asked questions like If you could be anything or be anywhere in the world, what or where would that be? The answer is always the same, without exception or hesitation: here. I would be somewhere else or doing the other thing if that was what I wanted.
Although I have attained employment with MSF, that was never my goal. MSF is a means to an end. I have stated in a previous post that I do not intend on changing the world, at least not yet (hahaha), as I do not have the expertise, knowledge or experience to be able to do so in a way that would benefit earth-kind. My goal, for now, is to alleviate suffering in populations rampant with destitution. Since my current posting is more a training mission than anything else, I probably will not be able to fulfill my objective in any observable manner.
When I started writing this posting it actually had a completely different tone. I had no intent of writing what is written and I hesitate to put it on the blog. Somehow and for some reason I can’t explain, I feel it is my responsibility or duty. I strongly believe in being open and not having secrets. While it can sometimes be violently hurtful, discovering or uncovering the truth early on, the early discovery usually makes the information easier to digest in the long term.
I am definitely not attempting to preach, or to tell anyone how one should live their life. Too many people offer advice freely without really taking the time or making the effort to understand where the individual is coming from. I am also not saying that the way that I live should be followed by anyone. Nor am I suggesting that self-reflection or counselling or spiritual growth is necessarily your path. The purpose of this posting is to explain to you as clearly and as succinctly as I can in a brief manuscript some of the choices that I have made along the way, why I made them and the result/effect.
Furthermore, I can remember being significantly lost for quite some time and turning around in circles trying to determine which way to go. I remember not being able to find answers in anyone else’s words or advice. No one could help me get out of where I was, and trust me when I say that I left no friend in peace with phone calls at all hours of the day. To those friends, I am forever in gratitude for your patience, time and love that you showed me. I found out what real friends are for. That might be one of the many reasons why I continuously strive to form deep and lasting friendships to this day. True friends are irreplaceable.
But, when it all boils down to it, friends could not solve my problems. They were unable to walk in my shoes; they can understand, be compassionate, and listen empathically, and on the whole they may have helped me through the experiences. But they were not and never will be me. I alone am the master of myself, it is me that will walk in my shoes, come what may, thick or thin until death do I part.
I alone am responsible for my growth, to expand my horizons, to live. No one can do it for me. There is no icing to put on the cake, that is the blunt and honest truth. I can get through just about anything now though, no matter the breakdown, no matter how hopeless it may appear, that is one of the things that I have learnt, there is usually a way. So if I have the will, evolve, it is worth more than I can dream of.
While you may or may not gain anything from this posting, its purpose is to provide a possible option of guidance during a time of difficulty. I did not elaborate on the feelings I experienced during the course of the past but you can be assured that some were unbelievably annihilating. I remember periods of time so bleak that even the blues that accompany the Vancouver rains were analogous to the sunniest summer day on the beach in comparison. Or of times of blind fury. Or of times where the future was so blurry it didn’t look like it was there. But through Grace, or fortune, or perseverance, or dedication, or through the words of loved ones, or maybe even God I saw the light at the end of the tunnel and am able to dance to the Congolese beat today. To say the least, there is not a place in the world that I would rather be than dancing, laughing, singing, and rejoicing in all that life has offered. For without the bad I would not know the greatness in good.
With love and hope for the best in your future.
Update 6:
My departure from Geneva, Switzerland, was an indication of how things can and can’t function African style. My itinerary was to be as follows, KLM all the way from Geneva to Amsterdam to Nairobi, Kenya to Entebbe/Kampala, Uganda. Shortly after boarding the flight destined for Amsterdam, we were told that mechanical failures would prevent the flight from departing.
I now sought a new flight plan, as I had consequently missed my connections (and judging by the facial expression of the fella behind the check-in counter, Entebbe, Uganda isn’t the most common destination, who would have guessed). Upon disembarking the plane, the line-up at the KLM counter had over 150 unhappy individuals. To me, it didn’t matter; I have been on too many cancelled flights to be affected by this development. Thank you Air Canada for teaching me patience in this arena, after all they are the Kings of cancellation and delays.
To make a long story short KLM really came through, and I had a new itinerary within an hour or so, oh and quite an interesting one it was. I flew Geneva to Frankfurt, Germany on Lufthansa, Frankfurt to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia on Ethiopian Airlines, and finally Addis Ababa to Entebbe, Uganda on United Arab Emirates. I arrived in Entebbe only 7 hours later than I would have by KLM, most of that time sleeping on the benches in Addis Ababa International. I will also add that in my limited global experiences, Ethiopian women are in the upper echelon as far as stunning physical beauty is concerned, so I was quite happy to have a stop over in an airport full of such calibre (even if they were the cleaning ladies).
The flights were more or less uneventful, with the only mildly interesting tidbit being the reactions of the flight attendants and the neighbouring passengers when I ate 5 meals on the Lufthansa flight, 2 or 3 on the Ethiopian flight, and 4 or 5 on the Emirates flight. Grandmama J and Oli, remember when we were 12 in Ottawa and I ate something like 13 or 14 croissants for breakfast because it was the first time I had encountered a “fake”/continental breakfast? If I remember right the waiter was Ethiopian. Do you remember his reaction to me devouring such a quantity? Well history repeated itself, again.
In Kampala, I found an envelope on my bed containing money and security protocols, as the office was now closed for the weekend that was to be my so-called preliminary briefing. I can’t upload pictures, and I also didn’t take a picture of this. But one image that will still in my head of Kampala, was a pickup loaded fully (cab and box) with plain clothed men armed to the teeth, with Kalashnikov’s and rifles of every sort. Apparently these were merely security guards getting picked up or dropped off from their shift. I wanted so badly to take a picture, but my intuition got the better of me and I am here to tell you about it today. I also decided that these “security guards” were of a different variety than the ones back home who tend to either be washed up 300lb football players who can’t run or 1st generation Canadians who probably would rather run than risk confrontation.
On my second day in Kampala, I went with a couple of MSF’ers to Entebbe’s botanical gardens. We saw monkeys, trees, jungle, termites, a flower called “Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow,” and the Ugandan side of Lake Victoria. It was at these gardens where I was bitten by the Tsetse fly. What I didn’t know about the fly at the time was that these fly’s carry the disease called “Sleeping Sickness.” I won’t know for at least three weeks as to whether or not I contracted it though, apparently it can be latent and takes time to manifest itself.
Monday rolled around the next day, as it tends to do, and I was swamped with briefings; logistical, medical, administrative, social, historical and finally security. All in French, and especially of the historical I only gathered about 50% of the information, as the Congolese tribal names, warring factions, and locations were all jumbled together with my limited capacity for French. Ah, c’est la vie!
Tuesday morning I woke to a ringing phone telling me that I was heading to the Congo a day early, in fact in only a few hours. So all in a rush again, I packed up and boarded yet another plane. What I didn’t know at the time and wasn’t informed about until one of my many briefings in the DRC is the following story, although I doubt it would have made a difference in my decision to get on the plane.
MSF and other NGO’s sanctioned the services of a Canadian named Michael Moor (not the movie dude I imagine) to verify if any of the Congolese airlines were safe enough to fly on. Months later, two airlines (for shits and giggles I’ll call them “A” and “B”) were certified “safe enough” for MSF. This report came out on Monday, on Monday afternoon shortly following the report stating that “A” was safe to fly on, a loaded DC-9 (read big plane for Africa Centrale) from airline “A” with somewhere near 100 people on board crashed in a marketplace in Goma, DRC. The next morning I boarded a pond-hopper flight to the Congo on airline “B.”
That was Uganda, I haven’t even touched on my destination yet.
I now sought a new flight plan, as I had consequently missed my connections (and judging by the facial expression of the fella behind the check-in counter, Entebbe, Uganda isn’t the most common destination, who would have guessed). Upon disembarking the plane, the line-up at the KLM counter had over 150 unhappy individuals. To me, it didn’t matter; I have been on too many cancelled flights to be affected by this development. Thank you Air Canada for teaching me patience in this arena, after all they are the Kings of cancellation and delays.
To make a long story short KLM really came through, and I had a new itinerary within an hour or so, oh and quite an interesting one it was. I flew Geneva to Frankfurt, Germany on Lufthansa, Frankfurt to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia on Ethiopian Airlines, and finally Addis Ababa to Entebbe, Uganda on United Arab Emirates. I arrived in Entebbe only 7 hours later than I would have by KLM, most of that time sleeping on the benches in Addis Ababa International. I will also add that in my limited global experiences, Ethiopian women are in the upper echelon as far as stunning physical beauty is concerned, so I was quite happy to have a stop over in an airport full of such calibre (even if they were the cleaning ladies).
The flights were more or less uneventful, with the only mildly interesting tidbit being the reactions of the flight attendants and the neighbouring passengers when I ate 5 meals on the Lufthansa flight, 2 or 3 on the Ethiopian flight, and 4 or 5 on the Emirates flight. Grandmama J and Oli, remember when we were 12 in Ottawa and I ate something like 13 or 14 croissants for breakfast because it was the first time I had encountered a “fake”/continental breakfast? If I remember right the waiter was Ethiopian. Do you remember his reaction to me devouring such a quantity? Well history repeated itself, again.
In Kampala, I found an envelope on my bed containing money and security protocols, as the office was now closed for the weekend that was to be my so-called preliminary briefing. I can’t upload pictures, and I also didn’t take a picture of this. But one image that will still in my head of Kampala, was a pickup loaded fully (cab and box) with plain clothed men armed to the teeth, with Kalashnikov’s and rifles of every sort. Apparently these were merely security guards getting picked up or dropped off from their shift. I wanted so badly to take a picture, but my intuition got the better of me and I am here to tell you about it today. I also decided that these “security guards” were of a different variety than the ones back home who tend to either be washed up 300lb football players who can’t run or 1st generation Canadians who probably would rather run than risk confrontation.
On my second day in Kampala, I went with a couple of MSF’ers to Entebbe’s botanical gardens. We saw monkeys, trees, jungle, termites, a flower called “Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow,” and the Ugandan side of Lake Victoria. It was at these gardens where I was bitten by the Tsetse fly. What I didn’t know about the fly at the time was that these fly’s carry the disease called “Sleeping Sickness.” I won’t know for at least three weeks as to whether or not I contracted it though, apparently it can be latent and takes time to manifest itself.
Monday rolled around the next day, as it tends to do, and I was swamped with briefings; logistical, medical, administrative, social, historical and finally security. All in French, and especially of the historical I only gathered about 50% of the information, as the Congolese tribal names, warring factions, and locations were all jumbled together with my limited capacity for French. Ah, c’est la vie!
Tuesday morning I woke to a ringing phone telling me that I was heading to the Congo a day early, in fact in only a few hours. So all in a rush again, I packed up and boarded yet another plane. What I didn’t know at the time and wasn’t informed about until one of my many briefings in the DRC is the following story, although I doubt it would have made a difference in my decision to get on the plane.
MSF and other NGO’s sanctioned the services of a Canadian named Michael Moor (not the movie dude I imagine) to verify if any of the Congolese airlines were safe enough to fly on. Months later, two airlines (for shits and giggles I’ll call them “A” and “B”) were certified “safe enough” for MSF. This report came out on Monday, on Monday afternoon shortly following the report stating that “A” was safe to fly on, a loaded DC-9 (read big plane for Africa Centrale) from airline “A” with somewhere near 100 people on board crashed in a marketplace in Goma, DRC. The next morning I boarded a pond-hopper flight to the Congo on airline “B.”
That was Uganda, I haven’t even touched on my destination yet.
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