There’s nothing quite like the nonchalant, we’ve-seen-it-all-before attitude of white South Africans. Especially when they’re piloting a 12-seater UN plane which, mid takeoff, has ‘technical difficulties.”
I was on my way to Bocaranga, IRC’s second field site quite near the Cameroonian border. This was to be my first experience with UNHAS (United Nations Humanitarian Air Service) and I was quite excited about the whole thing…well, until my two South African pilot friends decided at the (very) last minute to return to the airport after an unsuccessful trip down the runway. One pilot popped a window and stuck his head out to better chat with the Central African technician on the tarmac. “Hey,” he called out in his South African English accent, “Do you guys have an air compressor or something?” The technician knit his brows in concentration and said, “No, we don’t have any compressors here. But maybe you could just try to turn that knob there? Yeah, that one.” At which time the pilot glanced at his passengers and told us we’d better get off the plane. Half an hour later, we tried to take off again without success (which is kind of a scary thing btw!) and the flight was eventually rescheduled.
But the best part was the next day when we were boarding the plane and our country director asked the pilot, “So, everything ok this time?” He says, “Yeah, if we’re lucky.” Great. Fantastic even.
Picture this UN puddle-jumper, with a random selection of humanitarian aid workers from a smattering of NGOs. The plane wasn’t full, and the pilots moved some people around to adjust the weight distribution. A pretty white girl boarded and an African guy, apparently her colleague, asked the pilot, “Can she sit next to me?” The South African looked at him, then looked at her and said, “No, that wont work.” Then he stopped, as if reconsidering and asked, “Wait, you want to sit next to her, eh?” “Yes!” replied the passenger. “Ah. No.” Said the pilot adding, “You can hold her hand later.” And with that, we were off!
In fact, this was my first time in a plane that landed in the middle of nowhere. I learned a lot about planes during my short 1.5 hour flight. First off – planes have horns! We in fact made use of this function as we landed hard on a strip of bumpy dirt to encourage the villagers to get the hell out of the way. Secondly, I apparently get air-sick as I found out in our 20-minute circling descent. At least I got some great pictures! Check them out on Facebook…
But there’s nothing like a good UN plane to make you feel like a true aid worker. Especially with the gaggle of children who crowded the makeshift airstrip, coming to see the bizarre plane-landing spectacle. And actually, if my flying experience didn’t do it for me, maybe my 10-hour car trip home will do the trick! That, or it will convince me to consider a career change. Ideas anyone??
(Note: That 10-hour plane trip was actually 12 hours and I don’t know if I’d say it allowed me to cultivate my aid-worker image so much as it made me want to beg the Chinese to please please please pave the roads in this country!)
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
You're a Rebel
Sunday August 22, 2010
Kaga-Bandoro, CAR
Today I met with a rebel leader in a northern province of CAR. In many ways, he’s what you’d expect of an African rebel: long scars like the memory of a tiger’s claw slash his face from hairline to jaw. He’s in his late forties and tall – an imposing figure even when seated. He was dressed simply in an African-print shirt and plain slacks and plastic flip-flops, yet the pistol hanging from his belt reminded you of his authority. Well, that and the ten to twenty heavily armed young men wandering around and eying us carefully.
This was the leader of the APRD, and the field coordinator and I had come to talk business as some of the local school construction projects were not going as planned. We were sitting under a thatched-roof enclosure in what seemed to be the center of the rebel encampment. I’ll admit it: I was a bit ill-at-ease. All the movies and depictions of African rebel movements and the violence they inflict on communities was swirling about my head as we sat there before the Colonel. But despite my discomfort, the colonel was welcoming and seemed eager to talk about the progress of IRC’s projects. He wanted these programs to work, and as the Field-Co ran through the list of problems; the stealing of hygiene kits, a disorderly chef, the lack of progress at a school construction site – the colonel listened, taking careful notes in a large black notebook. Once finished he said, “You see, they want to disarm us,” in reference to the disarmament, demobilization and reintegration campaign (better known as DDR) taking place across the rebel-held territories of CAR, “But without us, you will never be able to implement your development programs. The people here don’t understand the meaning of community development. But we’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”
To explain the entire history of the current political situation in CAR would be extremely difficult. Not only because I don’t know what I’m talking about, but it seems there are few experts who understand the political motivation of the many and varied rebel factions. But to give some context to this place, picture this: An extremely poor, land-locked country with a population of only around 4 million people. Only a fraction of the country is inhabited - as I clearly saw flying into the country’s only airport in Bangui. There is very little infrastructure, and the government’s entire budget amounts to a pitiful 1.5 million US dollars. Because of this, vast tracts of territory are left to their own devices and much suffering has resulted, particularly in the northern territories farthest from Bangui. It was decided by a particularly perturbed group of individuals, that the system must change – thus was born a rebel movement to protest the lack of governmental services. Of course not everyone thought this was a good idea, but they were soon convinced as the APRD became heavily armed and increasingly violent, destroying villages and forcing entire communities into the bush. Theirs was, and continues to be, a politic of coersion.
But the APRD is only one element here. The proximity to the border with Chad adds a variety of complexities to the situation. There are Chadian rebels who have settled in many villages as well as traditional nomadic herders who may or may not have links to rebel groups. There are government forces and all manner of UN influences including WFP (World Food Program) distributions, which have crippled local farmers as foreign grains flood the local markets. And while much of the population has returned to the villages from which they fled during the conflict, they wont invest in their communities for fear of another uprising.
I’ve been both impressed and discouraged by IRC’s work here. Impressed because of its breadth, scope and relative success in implementing effective projects. Discouraged because of the amount of corruption, lack of competence and needless waste of time. The office here is small – it shouldn’t be particularly difficult to manage and yet things are constantly falling through the cracks. We’re limited to resources available locally which are few at best. And because the security situation remains a sketchy, we are limited in the amount of time we can spend in any one village during a day as the car must be back to the IRC base by 3 or 4pm at the latest.
But it’s interesting to be on the ground seeing these projects in action after several weeks seeing their skeletal outlines in grant proposals and fragmented emails in the Bangui office. The kids are fun here as they get very excited about any interaction with a ‘munju’, the Sango word for ‘white person’, originally a confusion of ‘Bonjour’ during colonization. Funny how these things happen.
...and so, despite the lack of conclusion to this update I've decided to post it as it's been on my desktop for over a week and I've not been able to finish it. Thinking of you all and looking forward to your emails/letters!
Kaga-Bandoro, CAR
Today I met with a rebel leader in a northern province of CAR. In many ways, he’s what you’d expect of an African rebel: long scars like the memory of a tiger’s claw slash his face from hairline to jaw. He’s in his late forties and tall – an imposing figure even when seated. He was dressed simply in an African-print shirt and plain slacks and plastic flip-flops, yet the pistol hanging from his belt reminded you of his authority. Well, that and the ten to twenty heavily armed young men wandering around and eying us carefully.
This was the leader of the APRD, and the field coordinator and I had come to talk business as some of the local school construction projects were not going as planned. We were sitting under a thatched-roof enclosure in what seemed to be the center of the rebel encampment. I’ll admit it: I was a bit ill-at-ease. All the movies and depictions of African rebel movements and the violence they inflict on communities was swirling about my head as we sat there before the Colonel. But despite my discomfort, the colonel was welcoming and seemed eager to talk about the progress of IRC’s projects. He wanted these programs to work, and as the Field-Co ran through the list of problems; the stealing of hygiene kits, a disorderly chef, the lack of progress at a school construction site – the colonel listened, taking careful notes in a large black notebook. Once finished he said, “You see, they want to disarm us,” in reference to the disarmament, demobilization and reintegration campaign (better known as DDR) taking place across the rebel-held territories of CAR, “But without us, you will never be able to implement your development programs. The people here don’t understand the meaning of community development. But we’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”
To explain the entire history of the current political situation in CAR would be extremely difficult. Not only because I don’t know what I’m talking about, but it seems there are few experts who understand the political motivation of the many and varied rebel factions. But to give some context to this place, picture this: An extremely poor, land-locked country with a population of only around 4 million people. Only a fraction of the country is inhabited - as I clearly saw flying into the country’s only airport in Bangui. There is very little infrastructure, and the government’s entire budget amounts to a pitiful 1.5 million US dollars. Because of this, vast tracts of territory are left to their own devices and much suffering has resulted, particularly in the northern territories farthest from Bangui. It was decided by a particularly perturbed group of individuals, that the system must change – thus was born a rebel movement to protest the lack of governmental services. Of course not everyone thought this was a good idea, but they were soon convinced as the APRD became heavily armed and increasingly violent, destroying villages and forcing entire communities into the bush. Theirs was, and continues to be, a politic of coersion.
But the APRD is only one element here. The proximity to the border with Chad adds a variety of complexities to the situation. There are Chadian rebels who have settled in many villages as well as traditional nomadic herders who may or may not have links to rebel groups. There are government forces and all manner of UN influences including WFP (World Food Program) distributions, which have crippled local farmers as foreign grains flood the local markets. And while much of the population has returned to the villages from which they fled during the conflict, they wont invest in their communities for fear of another uprising.
I’ve been both impressed and discouraged by IRC’s work here. Impressed because of its breadth, scope and relative success in implementing effective projects. Discouraged because of the amount of corruption, lack of competence and needless waste of time. The office here is small – it shouldn’t be particularly difficult to manage and yet things are constantly falling through the cracks. We’re limited to resources available locally which are few at best. And because the security situation remains a sketchy, we are limited in the amount of time we can spend in any one village during a day as the car must be back to the IRC base by 3 or 4pm at the latest.
But it’s interesting to be on the ground seeing these projects in action after several weeks seeing their skeletal outlines in grant proposals and fragmented emails in the Bangui office. The kids are fun here as they get very excited about any interaction with a ‘munju’, the Sango word for ‘white person’, originally a confusion of ‘Bonjour’ during colonization. Funny how these things happen.
...and so, despite the lack of conclusion to this update I've decided to post it as it's been on my desktop for over a week and I've not been able to finish it. Thinking of you all and looking forward to your emails/letters!
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