What a night of welcoming fireworks!!!

It all started right after midnight, just like rumors had announced it.

We could very clearly hear the sound of exploding grenades, and riffles shooting, getting closer and closer as the trouble makers were making their way towards the city center, making sure to stop by most of the international NGOs on the way to pillage them.

It is only towards 1AM or so that I started stopping to try to sleep as by then, the shootings and grenades were exploding across the street, and right in front of the Cathedral. We could hear the shouts of the rebels. I even managed to peak through the windows blinds, making sure my lights were off of course, to see what was going on. I just wanted to make sure that the group was not making its way to our rooms to attack us. But man, did I manage to stay equanimous, and clear minded. My first reflex was to prepare a go-bag, just in case. In some ways it reminded me so much of my very first night when trekking the Anapurna last year. Hell of a storm!

Later we learnt that the rebels were none of the anti balaka nor ex seleka, as per it had been so far. This weekend saw the rise of a new group of rebellious local youth angry at all foreign presence in the country, especially UN forces and French citizens, and also asking for the transition president to be removed from duty. It so happens that the president is actually at a UN summit in the US at the moment. And it has all turned out into an unorganized conflict, therefore unpredictable either. Which is the part that is most worrying.

Seconds felt like days.

Helicopters were making their rounds very near us, making me suspect that the group of people they were looking for was the one hiding right in front of our windows. For a split second it made me start strategizing on ways to communicate their positions to the aircrafts.

By 4AM, Philippe calls me up, alarmed telling me that Cordaid's offices are being attacked and asking if I have any phone number that could provide them back up. Shit has hit the fan! If he is worried, given his 20+ years of experience in such situations all over Africa, then it is time for me to worry a bit as well I guess. I gave him the numbers I have.

Because he is asking for help to rescue locals, all the international forces turned us down, especially the UN! No wonder why the locals are building up hatred feelings towards us. They work for us, and protect our assets, and when shot hits the fan, all we care about are ourselves. Shame on us!

And so, basically, we stayed up all night, pacing outside our patio doors, trying to find solutions, and speculating about what was happening. It is ridiculous that in such context, there is no real security procedure in place. Even the emergency numbers of the French embassy did not work.

Turned out that this specific group of rebels spent so much time trying to break into Cordaid's offices that it slowed them down on further pillaging other NGOs. The two night guards managed to climb the walls and barbed wire to hide at the neighbors till dawn.

In any case, Philippe, the director of Cordaid is quite a cowboy! Ok he is "metisse", but first thing he did this morning was to walk the kilometer or so to his office to check on the damages and on the guards. Pffff!!! He was even ready to jump in his car to go rescue the two local guards last night! I say BRAVO to that!

As I am typing this, explosions and shots just started again...not far from here. Not a good sign.

I am still not registered at the French embassy, so not sure how things would go if we had to evacuate. In any case, since the airport is on lock down, it seems that the only way out would be to cross the river over to the DRC. From one conflict zone to another one.

Ok, I shall write more later. Maman, ne t'inquiete pas trop, si j'ai le temps d'ecrire tout ca c'est que la situation est quand secure. ;o)

Sunday 27th September 2015

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-34372113

Breakfast to the sounds of bullets in the jungle...slightly alarming.

Second day of confinement. So not much has happened.

The general intel is forecasting violence through the night. Interesting as it is also supposed to be the night of a supermoon eclipse, also called blood moon. Let's see what happens...

Saturday 26th September 2015

Here is an article of what today’s general focus was on.

http://www.france24.com/fr/20150926-centrafrique-morts-flambee-violences-bangui-blesses-pk5-quartier-musulman

Today is Saturday, so instead of meditating at 6:30am, I allowed myself an extra half hour of sleep. Yay! (keep in mind that every single day of the week, the first mass being celebrated in the cathedral literally behind our rooms is at 5AM and celebrations and VERY loud singing last until about 7AM.)

My meditation was yet again quite plain and flat. Yet, about half an hour into it, and as the cathedral singing extend later than usual; I started hearing series of gun shots for a good 20 minutes. As it was mixed with the cathedral singing, I was not sure whether it was some sound effect part of the singing rehearsal, so I did not pay much attention to it.

When I emerge from my meditation, my shower, and my laundry, everyone is gone to the office. No way I am going to the office today nor to work, as anyway, I need some reports from the staff and to review those reports with them in order to elaborate a plan of action for our upcoming site missions.

So I chill outside until Leann, the country head of Catholic Relief Services (CRS) comes to pick me up for my first security brief in the country. Our first step is to go to the super market. She had to do some groceries, so I offered to tag along in order to check out the local supermarket, and most importantly to check out the food cost of living. ATROCIOUSLY EXPENSIVE!!!!!

One sure thing is that while I am here, I will not be eating any junk food, or any elaborate dishes, nor any super-duper healthy diets. Bummer! The weeks I spent in Rabat got me used to such delicious and healthy eating habits! Moncef and Caro, I told you that you were totally spoiling me!

And so while I am wandering the aisles with Leann,  the Archbishop himself (who apparently is a major “political” figure not only here but internationally, calls me on my cell, and asks me why am I not in his office as we speak. Sister Flora is there and I a, supposed to be there as well. HA! Inside I am sooooooooooo mad at Sister Flora. I had told her yesterday morning before she left the office like a thief, that I was to have this security brief this morning, all morning. And so that’s what I repeat to the Archbishop. He sounded a bit disappointed and slightly upset, but I stood my grounds. So we are supposed to meet on Monday morning. Yet still no news from Sister Flora. Seriously, what is this doing? She is being paid close to 1000 euros monthly when the average monthly salary in the country is about 40…and what for?!  I must say, thus far, this is not reconciling me with the institution of the church at all. I am so curious to see if and when the Archbishop will ask me what faith I am. Lol

The security brief went quite well. The US arm of Caritas has so much money. The gap between our French arm of Caritas and their US arm feels like the gap between a homeless and a President.

Curfew set at 9PM every single day. Green zone defined. And rule for today: forbidden for me to go out.

Right after lunch, and after chatting with everyone about all the speculations of what was happening in the city, as I laid down to take a power nap (am still not used to such humid heat), Christophe, the big brother of Cyrille, whom I had met in Marrakech, and who is from Bangui, called me up as he was right in front of the cathedral. And so I spent a couple of hours with him. Turns out his uncle who used to be the prime minister a few years back is now running for the presidential elections. His sisters who just gave birth works for the prime minister. But strangely, as opposed to how rich, comfortable, and slightly superior looking, such kind of person would probably appear in other African countries, Christophe was very modest looking and humble…He taught me a lot about the country geopolitical situation as well as economic and environmental strengths of the country. It was a very interesting couple of hours. I really hope I get to meet his sister at some point as she apparently is highly involved with micro credits.

I spent the rest of the day catching up on emails. Long over due!

When Philippe came back, we had a very long and super interesting chat about the geopolitical situation in the country, its origins, as well as his previous work in Chad, DRC, and Rwanda. Wow!

It was just us chatting on the front porch of our rooms, facing the jungle up the hill across from us…when all of a sudden we started hearing scattered gun shots here and there in the jungle. The sun was almost asleep, the moon already smiling all her teeth, and the sky as quite as can be aside from the shots echoing away. We stayed quiet for a bit…wondering how close they would get, and if the anti balaka rebels would try and make their way to the city center, and by what time tonight, now that the outdoor light was more favorable from them to come out.

It is almost 9pm and helicopters are still making their rounds.

I am tired…off to bed I go.

Laila Saida. I miss you all. May you all be happy, in peace and harmony. And may the people of Central African Republic sleep in peace tonight.

Salam, and a very belated Eid Mubarak to all my Muslim friends and to all the GOOD Muslims out there.  And may this Eid be a way for the bad seeds to start turning into good ones.

Friday 25th September 2015

Today was actually somewhat productive.

• -          I let go half the team who was being paid yet not doing anything. Literally, not doing anything. (When you ask an employee who has been working on a project for 4 months already, what will you be working on today, and his answer is “I don’t know.” It says it all.
• -          Communicated that starting Monday I will personally start finally implementing financial sanctions if expenses procedures are not followed and completed.
• -          Managed to get a VERY old laptop sort of fixed.
• -          Managed to get a tension regulator and modulator fixed and put to some use.
• -          Manage to enforce that all machines MUST be plugged into regulators and no more directly into wall plugs.
• -          Got a fan fixed.
• -          Got them to understand that a Canon ink cartridge is not supposed to be used for a HP printer, and that when a printer does not turn on; it is not by shaking the ink cartridge that you will turn it on, but by plugging it into the right power plug.
• -          And a few other things.

I got quite upset when the driver pressed me to drive me home before 4pm, and all the employees affirming that their work hours always end at 4pm, which makes for a 7 hour work day. I have been told that the labour laws impose a 8 hour work day. The staff insist on justifying this by the fact that they all live far and that past 6pm, it is very hard for them to find transportation. You must know that all of the public buses but 1 or 2 I think got stolen during the high of the conflict. Most of the cab drivers before were Muslims, and thus fled the city during the conflict thus leaving the city with only few cabs.

In any case, what frustrated me was more the fact that I didn’t know if the staff was playing me because I am new or if they were being honest and sincere. Honesty seems to be something foreign in this country. At least so I was told. And well, Sister Flora left the office like a thief early afternoon without even saying good bye. I would so love to know how this project was being run when I was not here.

Every single day I try to reinforce to the staff that we (this project and all the other NGOs and IGOs in town) are not here to simply give out money and goods, but rather to use these resources to help of course, but in a fair way and to Impact as many people as possible. They just don’t seem to care.

For dinner, Philippe (the country head of Cordaid) went for a bite at Ali Baba (please don’t yell at me nor laugh for going to a pseudo Lebanese restaurant to eat a beef shawarma that was prepared like Mexican beef fajitas, I really wish I had the choice. ). Just like most other developing country capital city, it seems that the Lebanese have taken over. They are the business kings…though honestly, staying here just because you run a thriving business…I would personally not do it.

And so during dinner, to celebrate my very first Friday in this country, I ordered a beer. They called it an imported foreign beer…brewed in Cameroun. With the heat and all, it made me a bit dizzy and chatty quite fast. Lol

Bonne nuit!

Discours interessant ouvrant un peu les yeux sur la situation...

Ehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LP65wug4EwE

Thursday 24th September 2015

Breakfast (Not sure I would actually call this a breakfast. Gosh I miss the yummy juices Moncef used to make in Rabat!) is served at 7am, so not easy to manage to meditate a whole hour every morning. But I try to at least do 40 minutes.

Today is the Muslim holiday of Tabaski, or Eid Kebir as we call it in Morroco. It was actually declared a national holiday only yesterday. Quite a positive move from the government in order to show religious inclusion given of the international press is stupidly and incorrectly labeling the conflict a religious one.

So I was told yesterday that some of the staff would not show up and the other half would stay until midday only. OK, fair enough.

When I arrived at the office, I saw everyone waiting outside, like in recess. It made me laugh when they told me that they were waiting for everyone to arrive to start the generator.  REALLY???!!! They all need a computer to work? I know that for the work needed right now, half the staff is not needed.

And so now that we were all there, they start the generator. I start working on my laptop, but out of curiosity, I get up and walk around the offices to see what people are doing. NOT ONE is actually using their computer. I feel like breaking something and pulling my hair off because of how ridiculous the situation is. Right away I tell them to shut the generator off.

The driver comes by around 10 am asking if I need him to take me anywhere. He wants to leave for the day. After all it is a holiday. SO OK, anticipating how the rest of the day will go if I stay in the office, I tell him to take me to the offices of Caritas Holland. They have way more money and way better offices…with all day electricity, wifi, and even AC! Yay!

And so I spent the entire day there, being quite productive actually. I intend to show the staff tomorrow all the discrepancies within all the reports they had sent to Paris, so that we can finally have an accurate database from which to work, and be finally able to actually start the project.

Today I let two other Dutch expats. Really cool young people with incredible humanitarian experience. It was so good to be able to unload my bag of frustration with them, and hear that they had similar cases within their team.

Another good dinner and now off to bed. Tomorrow is Friday and promises to be yet another “interesting” day.

Am curious to see what the weekend holds for me…

Buenas noches!

Wednesday 23rd September 2015

First day in the office. What a day!

The ride to the office was so beautiful. What a change from last night. The sun was out and bright. People were out and about. Colors all over the place. Lush green trees all around. If it were not for all the numerous NGO cars running around the city like a ballet of white Ford pickup trucks with different NGO and IGO labels on them, the city would feel just like any other city in terms of security.

“Funny” observation, but the office is located a few meters away from a little shop making and selling wooden coffins. Not sure what to make of this as an omen for my stay here or for the success of the project.

The whole morning was spent meeting with the team. Not much to say about the office, other than the fact that it looks like a rundown old mention occupied by bums squatting around. Not because the staffs look like bums, but rather because of how clueless they seem to be about the project they are working on. And that includes even the director herself.

After my time in Senegal, Mali and Morocco, I thought I had prepared myself for this, but like I mentioned yesterday, I think this is thus far beyond imagination.

The meeting with the staff all morning was my very first one ever. I mean the very first one I was running as a supervisor. Yes the project has a local director, but let’s be honest and realistic, I have the feeling that she will continue doing what she has been doing thus far, stepping back from all sorts of responsibilities and executions, and will complacently let me do all the work. Which in a way is perhaps better for the project, at least at the beginning, but my role is to accompany her in her tasks so as to help her acquire the tools to become more efficient and effective at managing the project and her team by the time I leave.

As much as I had tried to prepare for this meeting, I felt like I could have done much better, especially given the context of the project.  Sister Flora was there at the table, but barely spoke. I tried to give her room to speak and contribute, but no.

A few very preoccupying topics came up during the meeting, such as the instability of not only the electricity, but also of the generator, which both together, despite regulators, have ruined the batteries of all the laptops…and that’s for those who have laptops. I am just hoping that as the project goes along, we will need to use laptops less and less, at least for the staff.

Getting a SIM card and cash from a working ATM was off course more complicated than any other countries I have been to, but it went relatively fast overall…just a bit over an hour.

I am back in the office as the staff is progressively going on their lunch break. I stay in as I have work to do. When I finally go have lunch with the driver, and come back to the office, by about 2:30pm, I find half the staff gone, and the other half just hanging around, not doing anything. No electricity, no computer, no work. (the generator is not supposed to run all day given how small it is, and how fuel inefficient it is) The most enraging and frustrating part of it is that Sister Flora tells me that it has been like that for more than a year now…and you would think that she would have tried to fix this ridiculous solution. Nope…

My gut tells me we need to cut the staff in half, and relocate to more reliable offices in the city center where electricity is more constant.

Her absence of concern and care for how this silliness is a huge constraint on the project is just mesmerizing.

I suggest to her that perhaps we should look for another place to work at. She agrees, and then goes back to doing nothing. I insist. She agrees again and mentions a few options to look at later. I agree and ask her when. Before she answers I tell her let’s go now and not waste anymore time. I cant even understand how she didn’t see how much of a priority this was.

We visit two places belonging to the church that could work. No point in going back to the office. She drops me off. It is still early in the afternoon so I get back to work in my room.

The cathedral being right next door, I could hear very clearly the locals rehearsing beautiful songs probably for the visit of the pope supposed to happen in November. So I took a break and sneak out through the back door to sit in the back of the cathedral and watch the show. The inside of the cathedral was quite impressive. Barely any fans compared to the one in Bamako, and barely any decoration at all. Actually; no decoration at all. The entire ceiling was made of wood. It is probably the hottest church/cathedral I have ever stepped into. Strange.

Dinner was yet another interesting African geopolitical conversation…well, I remained a listener yet again as I don’t know much at all about such topics. But sitting there got me closer to these expats, which helps quite much for my integration.

I have the feeling that those 6 months to come will be a tremendous learning experience for me, and I strongly hope that I will be able to make this project a success and deliver what is expected of me.

No meditation tonight either, I am way to tired.

Laila Saida, as we say in Morocco…I miss it very much already…

Tuesday 22nd September 2015

The alarm went off at 6:15am. Not that early perhaps, yet I still felt very tired. In any case, I was quick to get ready, packed, and out the door of the Catholic welcoming center I was staying in during my training week in Paris. And it is then that I realized or rather wished this were not my first such mission. 6 months long and humanitarian. Not knowing with exactitude neither how nor what to pack made it difficult to abide by the simplistic pack-light approach I grew so fond off during my last backpacking adventure. So yes, I was carrying three large backpacks. I can already see Angelina as well as Sebastian making shocking faces because of how much I packed.  Ha! I’d like to see them in the same situation.

Anyhow, it is only once I managed to haul myself all the way through long Parisian metro connections and sat down in the RER heading to Charles De Gaulle airport that I realized what I had gotten myself into. And I got the similar feeling I always get when the first meditation audio recordings at each Vipassana course I go to starts. For a brief moment I caught myself thinking: “shit! What the hell did I get myself into!? Why!?”…indeed…not working was such a treat and I was getting quite used to it after such a long time. But hey, I signed up for it, and so I sucked it in, and my face smiled a little, the smile resulting from a mix of excitement and anxiety. Strangely enough, the fact that the country of Central African Republic is a war zone and that most workers would consider being posted there as a sanction rather than a treat is not what preoccupied me the most, not at all actually. It was rather the fact that I was to go there on my own to take over a failed project and revamp it with not a single expat behind me locally to guide me through and back me up. This is the very first time I am taking on such challenge. And that is most probably why I have been so darn nervous this whole past week. Nervous like rarely I had been before. It is so strange how despite having taken the craziest challenges each and every time I made a career change in the past; I am still not fully used to it. I really hope it is not something I am addicted to as I sincerely intend to settle down very soon. But hey, this is normal I suppose, since I am daring to make the change and transition, at last, towards the career path that will fulfill me.

During the entire plane ride, which was quite short, only 6.5 hours, I was glued to the digital screen watching movies.  Probably one of the reasons I love flying so much…the abundance of movies and the opportunity to catch up on many I haven’t seen yet.

When we started to descend towards Bangui, the landscape, aside from being lush green, got quite interesting…and helped me get a broad idea of some of the ravages the rebels had done back in 2013. Indeed, I could see numerous remains of what used to be roofed, windowed and doored houses…now only left with the cement walls, and trees and grass growing inside, as if the structures were actually some sort of small walled gardens. And it is then that I understood and realized where I was about to land, and the degree to which this country was a risky place.

When the plane touched ground, I could see loads of random people walking around the bushed on the side of the tarmac, as if it were just a grassed sidewalk. When the door of the plane opened and I walked outside I got slurped by the hot and humid air just like I were walking into a steam bath. Welcome to the tropics!

The airport terminal was no more than 30 meters deep by 30 meters wide. It took me almost 2 hours to cross it and get out. Waiting in line to go through all the filters they have when you land gave me a good sense of what to expect when working here with the locals. I tried to remember that I had already managed to successfully work in Morocco a while back, but my gut was telling me that working in Morocco was piece of cake compared to what I am about to face for the next 6 month. But the thought of the challenge made me smile.

Luckily I got out with all my three bags. I guess Air France economy performs much better in terms of baggage delivery when flying to the pit of the world than American Airline business class on a direct flight flying to two major western cities. Good for me!

Sister Flora and her big brother were outside waiting for me, hoping that I would come out before the major rain and sand storm that was slowly turning the sky threating black would arrive. And I did.

Isabelle in Paris had warned me that central Africans, though very kind, tend to be very individualistic. The drive was very quiet. I could tell that Sister Flora had not really prepared anything at all to help make my arrival and integration smooth and enjoyable. Let’s see how my mission goes before making a firm statement on this.

On the way to the Catholic Mission welcoming center where I am to stay for my first month here and until I find a place to rent, we went through a neighborhood which I totally loved because it was so lively, agitated, colorful, and filled with little streets and stands I would have loved to explore. But Sister Flora said it was the headquarters of the rebels. Ah, ok, I see…well perhaps I will try to hold my curiosity a bit then.

Then we went through the first unique two way roundabout in the world. There was construction work being done, yet they did not manage to find any alternative than to turn a regular one way roundabout into a two way one. Go wonder.

We passed several official buildings. Ministries, hospitals, universities…yet each and every time these buildings were either so old or run down (and not because they had been ravished by the conflict) that they made you wonder whether they were real or part of a zombie movie set. I am dying to find a way to take photos of these places…if only it were legally allowed here!

They dropped me off to my housing, wished me good evening and took off. Just like a taxi driver would have done. 

Dinner is at 7pm. I am absolutely dead tired. The anxiety of the week. The constant errands in Paris. The heat and humidity. I am tired. I get to my room, unpack a tiny bit, and take a long shower. Lol at first when walking into the bathroom, I see a large plastic bucket with a small bucket inside. I think to myself “yay! Just like in Indonesia!”. This little thought making me travel back a while back to such incredibly happy times made me smile and cheer up a bit.

Out of curiosity I try to see if by luck my French SIM card will allow me to send a text message to my parents. It does. Yay! But then it wont allow me to send any other message at all to anyone else. Oh well, at least my mom is now re-assured.  

Dinner is quite interesting…fascinating actually. We are only 6…6 expats Rwanda, Holland, Togo, Italy, and one more I could not figure out. But the caliber of these people, having worked in the worst places on earth for great NGOs, and knowing just about everything about the geopolitical situation of every African country, is just incredible. I barely said a word during the while dinner. Ha! The only comment I made was when one of them mentioned that they would not mind spending a few days in Casablanca. Hell no. Casa has nothing to offer. But quickly I realized that perhaps, compared to what this country has to offer, with all the war restrictions and all, Casablanca might actually feel like a haven. Gosh! I already miss the couscous and tajines of Morocco. Patience…only 6 months to go.

Remi suggested I meditate twice a day during my mission to evacuate all the frustration and stress. Tonight I am way too tired to do this. It is not even 9 pm and I am already hitting the sac.

Nzonilakwi as they say here in Sango. Goodnight…may the mosquitoes not bite…Eastern African malaria is supposed to be way worse than West African malaria, and also potentially lethal.