Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Perhaps I am

American after all...

It’s true. I think I may be American after all. My relationship to my homeland has been tenuous these past years (a strange correlation with a change in the political landscape in 2000) and at times when traveling/living abroad, I have tried to pass for a Canadian in hopes of avoiding the usual inclinations to discuss American politics. What I am realizing is that while I have genuine and founded fears of where the US is going, I cannot deny that I have some of that American essence. Or maybe I am just full of it and I’ve sniffed too much desert sand up my nose these past weeks??

So where is this digression coming from? Well, apparently and unavoidably, my Americanism is evident in my work, or more correctly, my frustrations with my work here. Working in this field requires one to work closely with people from all corners of the world and all walks of life. While I like to believe that I am a fairly open and accommodating person, I am in fact realizing that I am quite rigid (in fact, for the first time, I was called a control freak by a colleague in Uganda!). I am big on making a plan, figuring out how to make the plan happen, and then just doing it! While I can understand that things don’t run smoothly in these settings and one must always have a contingency plan, I cannot stand the bureaucracy created around the most basic of activities.

Where is this all going? I don’t know. Just that I am finding myself wanting to bang my head against the wall, paralyzed from doing the work I was sent here to do! I find myself having to continually remove myself from an infuriating situation to take a few breaths, compose myself, and return to go at it again.

Perhaps I shall shift topics?

This week does mark a momentous occasion for me – my month anniversary in Chad. This is no small feat, I tell you. Now if I can just make it a bit longer!

Last night my colleague informed me that he had just heard that there had been an attempted coup d’etat by the army. I’ve yet to hear any confirmation or official information, but I can tell you that my stomach was in my throat at the very thought of a coup actually succeeding here. As I fell asleep last night, I tried to prioritize what items I would flee with and could I get away with carrying more than the 15 kilos that UNHCR dictates we can take?? If we were evacuated, who would take my stuff? Would the people of Iriba be caught wearing my heathen Western clothes? When they break into my room, would they break in the door or calmly cut off the lock? See what happens when one is left to her imagination in this place!!

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