Work Life Balance

I try to mix up this blog so it’s not all work-related nor only talking about my non-work life. Now that I’m spending so much time in Somalia, the balance is tougher to achieve. Admittedly there is more happening that is note-worthy in relation to my work. It’s a fascinating context so I suppose that would make sense.

It’s not to say that my non-work life isn’t interesting. We are blessed to have very rich lives and I feel like every day is a new adventure. In fact I wouldn’t mind if life were a bit more boring at times.

When returned from the US, as I mentioned I needed to pivot quickly towards Somalia and continue pushing hard on this transition of remaining operations from Nairobi to Mogadishu. It’s been a significant focus of my job but I think it’s bearing good fruit. But it does mean time away from family.

Admittedly this flipping back and forth between Somalia and Kenya is tiring. It means long days. Lots of time spent in transit, including lengthy taxi rides, particularly since my normal arrival time in Nairobi, regardless of what airline I fly, is evening rush hour. I thus have resorted to hunkering down in the taxi with my phone or laptop, being discreet as possible given the rampant crime. Guys are known to reach in open windows and take whatever they can grab. They will even bash through closed windows if they see something worthwhile. Given that it can take anywhere from 45 min. to two hours, I try to find the balance between productivity and safety.

The other thing that I have to deal with, and I assume it applies all people who have this sort of dual country (dual community) life, is the constant feeling that I am unable to be anywhere long enough to do justice to one’s obligations. I felt this a few years ago when I was going back and forth between Burundi and Rwanda. You have two sets of relationships to maintain and nurture, both personally and professionally. And it’s never enough, particularly for an introvert who also needs time alone to recharge mental batteries. 

As I type this I’m on a flight back to Mogadishu after spending the weekend with family. It didn’t turn out as I’d planned. After arriving in Nairobi on Thursday evening (and a fateful welcome home kiss from a sick daughter), I was able to join in on the “Carnaval” celebrations at their school on Friday morning. Always good to weave these types of kid events into a busy work schedule. Then on Saturday morning I went to the gym as I normally do only to start feeling sick late morning. By the middle of the afternoon, it was clear that I was doomed. A stomach flu had set in and would pulverize me over the coming 48 hours or so. 

Kinaya and class taking in the acrobatics

By Monday I was marginally functional. I made my way to the office late morning to sign some things and have a short external meeting. I would be in Mogadishu a big part of the week so I needed to make it happen, even if it was brief. I went home mid-afternoon and balanced hanging out with my family and resting. I would need to be functional enough to leave for the airport by 4:30 the next morning. 

That brings me to where I am now. I’m off and running though I don’t feel great. Without going into details, I’ll just say that evidence that my illness is still with me showed up this morning at the airport. And of course, a Somali lady next to me on the plane just spent the last minute or two barfing into a bag. Many of these flights to Somalia, including this one, offer no purpose-built bags for such occasions. The poor woman had to improvise. Plastic bags in Kenya are now forbidden so she didn’t even have that option – relying on a more porous substitute. Good for her that she was carrying some napkins and was wearing traditional Somali clothing with an ample amount of material. But let’s just say she’ll have some cleaning up to do when she gets to Somalia. 

It’s common knowledge that it’s not ideal when you are sick to be around others who are visibly ill as well. Fortunately I was able to channel my thoughts elsewhere during her little episode. 

looking southwest from the airplane - protection barrier between the airport and the ocean

As we were boarding, at the base of the stairs to the plane, a Somali woman was standing next to me. She looked up at me a couple of times and smiled. That’s not very common since Somali women, unless they’ve spent considerable time outside the country, particularly in a Western country, not only don’t make much eye contact, they often use their hand or part of their veil to partially cover their face. It’s sort of the middle ground between the burka (full face covering) and the hijab (just the head covering). In public you see a mix of the two. 

So I made some sort of banal comment about the morning weather or something and she jumped on the opening to engage in a short conversation. It seems she really wanted to chat. Turns out that she lives in Ohio and she was sort of checking to see if I might be from the US as well. She went to the US several years ago as a refugee and she now calls that home. This was her first trip back to Somalia to see the family and friends she’d left behind. She seemed excited and a bit nervous. I suggested that she was probably happy to get away from the Midwestern winter and she proceeded to tell me about life during the polar vortex.

(By the way, we had plenty of time to chat on the tarmac outside the plane given that they were boarding some elderly folks and doing who knows what.)

Given that I’m an American in Somalia, I asked her about her experience with the inverse. Surprisingly she seemed rather cheery about her time in the US. And the fact that she was happy to connect with a stranger in a queue that she thought might be from her adopted country felt like confirmation. I apologetically said that sometimes politicians aren’t always positive in their rhetoric about refugees. She seemed to brush it off saying that Americans are generally good and helpful people. Given some of the things I’ve read and heard over past couple of years, I was happy to hear she felt that way. Hope it continues.