Pandemic Update & a Bit of Goodluck

Self-isolation rolls on. I’m sure there are many like me that wake up and think, “Seriously, is this really happening?” I can honestly say that I’ve thought that same thing many times throughout my life. Usually though, it’s stuff that’s more or less only happening to me. To have such a collective WTF is quite different. Rather than looking around me and thinking, “You have no idea what is going on in my head right now”, I suspect that millions and millions have been thinking similar things. You see it in the Twitter posts, Facebook (I’m not on FB but I assume), etc. People will be unpacking this pandemic for years to come. We’re in the middle of a historical event. Those that are better off may be annoyed by some of the inconveniences but are certainly embracing certain aspects of it. Others who have lost loved ones, been sick themselves and/or lost livelihoods, lost savings likely don’t have much energy to spend on existential thoughts. For some, their lives have been devastated.

For now I’m more in the former category, though my job deals mostly with people in the latter category. It’s never been this bad in the nearly four years that I’ve worked in Somalia. Many don’t have time or energy to deal with a coronavirus. You pester them about respecting Covid-19 mitigation protocols and they just lost their home and belongings to the recent flooding. Or they have been inundated with the locusts. Or militant groups have arrested and beheaded their father. Or they lost their only child to malaria. There are many ways to die in Somalia. This is just a new one.

On a call earlier today with my leadership team they were talking about how many people sort of look at such things as fate. If Allah decides it's your time to go, so be it. You can't control it. They used the word "fate" several times. While I understand where that's coming from, what's not clear is where you draw the line. The same people that say these things also take medicine, visit doctors and do a lot of things that demonstrate that they are proactive in protecting human life. Seems to be an arbitrary line between accepting your lot and influencing it. I suppose we all do that to some degree.

 I regularly get messages from local government officials from various parts of the country, even places where we don’t have a presence. They are appealing for assistance and it’s quite heart-breaking. I really would like for us to be able to do something but there simply aren’t enough resources to respond to everything. For now, international aid is hanging on but we’re all a bit concerned about the future. As governments increasingly focus on supporting needs in their own countries due to the pandemic, there is likely to be less of an appetite to maintain the same levels of support for other countries. We hope not and it might even be misguided to think that way. As has been said, the coronavirus anywhere is the coronavirus everywhere. Leaving poorer countries to fend for themselves may end up coming back to haunt the rich countries. So it might even be in their own self-interest. And a million dollars spent in a poor country (if spent wisely), has a far greater impact than a million dollars spent in a rich country. Just sayin’.

 On a slightly different subject, though still work-related, the other day I received a LinkedIn (for those that don’t know, a social network platform generally focused on careers) request from a former staff. That, in and of itself, is not unusual. I receive lots of those, some of whom are former staff. What was unusual about it was that this particular staff was a guy who pulled off a fairly bold heist as he abruptly left the organization.

Goodluck

It was 2007 and I was Field Coordinator working in refugee camps in NW Tanzania. Our office was located in the small town of Kibondo. We carried out a variety of activities in the four camps located near the border with Burundi. We had a rather large fleet of Land Cruisers and a few trucks. To supply these vehicles with fuel, we used a tanker truck to periodically go up the road to UNHCR, fill up and return to fill the fuel tank in our compound. One Saturday our supply chain guy by the name of Goodluck (kid you not) went to UNHCR to fuel up. It wasn’t that unusual to fuel up on a weekend though we normally did it during the week. The procedure was such that the truck pulled up to UNHCR, the guards would write down the vehicle plate number in the gate logbook and then the truck would pull forward to the fuel tanks. At the tanks there was another logbook where the attendant would measure the existing level of fuel in the truck to approximate the volume. Both the UNHCR staff and our staff would sign in the logbook. After fueling, they would measure again and write in the new number to confirm the amount of fuel taken. As the truck would exit the compound, the UNHCR guard would note the time of departure. Upon arrival at our compound, it was basically the same process in reverse.

 On this occasion, however, upon arrival at the UNHC compound, the guard failed to recognize that the truck wasn’t in fact registered with our organization (or he was in on the deal). It wasn’t registered with UNHCR either. Goodluck had teamed up with some guy who owned a private tanker truck and proceeded to fill it up. As you can guess, he and his buddy exited the compound and drove off into the sunset with about 14 thousand liters of diesel fuel never to be seen again.

 In most of the world, it would be hard to hide a large tanker truck. In Tanzania, you didn’t need to. Several days later we found out that he was in Mwanza, a town 370 kilometers away on the south end of Lake Victoria. We had notified the police when the incident happened and we notified them again when we received the tip as to where he was. The police informed us that they didn’t have the resources to pursue the criminals – that they would certainly follow up if we could cover all their costs. They were even kind enough to do the calculations for us. It was a rather large figure for something that was their job. Were it not for corruption, the affair could have been handled with a couple phone calls and very little effort by colleagues on the ground in Mwanza. But that’s not how it works in Tanzania unfortunately.

 So Goodluck wants to be connected on LinkedIn? I’ll pass. Maybe when Lake Victoria freezes over.

Muddy Day in the Park

I’d started to write an update for the week and it was mostly doom and gloom. Though times are tough, I wanted to step away from that and write about something a bit more positive. One does need to scramble somewhat to find such topics, particularly in my line of work, but last week it was slightly easier. We found out that the national park adjacent to the city was open and that we could isolate ourselves in our vehicle as we drove around and looked at animals. It’s weird to call it a game drive since it was 20 minutes from our home since it was unlike the ones I’ve been on before and we were our own 4x4, but technically that’s what it was.

 

amazing to be so close to the city

There’s no question that I needed this. I’ve been averaging about 6-7 hours a day on calls/meetings. I’ve been spending a lot of my evenings doing emails. It’s been stressful to respond to the current pandemic when hampered by the corresponding movement restrictions. To be honest, I just wanted to take my mind off of things for a while.

 

The plan was to wake up early and catch the wildlife while they are just getting out of bed. Generally it’s just the opposite. There’s the possibility of getting there while they are still munching on the night’s kill, particularly lions in this case. The nocturnal hunters are often still up and around in the early hours and by the time the sun is well up in the sky, they tend to relax, nap and digest. Assuming the hunt was successful.

 

crested crane

We’ve been to Nairobi National Park before though we don’t go nearly as much as we should. Sadly the last time was a little over two years ago. The current circumstances might change that. It’s a self-isolation acceptable activity that feeds the economy and provides some great entertainment. And it’s within the Nairobi lockdown perimeter.

 

Egyptian goose in flight

I should confess at the outset that it wasn’t quite as entertaining as we’d hoped. But we were out of the house and it was a very nice change of scenery.

 

impalas being affectionate

We’d organized things the night before. To do it right you need to be prepared: binoculars, African wildlife books (one for the front seat and one for the back), water, pain au chocolat, almond croissants, coffee, bug spray, water, snacks, stuff for kids to do when bored, pandemic masks, and so forth. We’d been watching the weather. Given that this is rainy season, we didn’t want to be doing this sort of thing in a downpour. We knew that the roads would be muddy but we were hoping that they’d be dry enough for us to get around on the more prominent arteries.

 

a very large croc

Given that I was our driver, a task I like to defer to a guide on a normal safari, I would spend more of my time watching the road and navigating some pretty treacherously muddy sections. We came upon a car that was stuck in the mud to the point of being high-centered. It’s a rather precarious time of year to be tooling about a muddy national park in a sedan. It generally demands a 4x4 with some pretty good clearance unless you limit yourself to just a couple of the main roads. For these people, I ended up not being much help. We didn’t have a chain or rope. I looked at trying to possibly push the car but because part of the chassis was resting firmly on the ground, the only thing I accomplished was getting myself muddy. The wheels were just spinning in the soupy mud. Priya fortunately had called the national park office the day before to confirm that they were open. The number was still in her phone and she was able to pass the information on to the stranded party (I ask again, what did we do before cell phones?).

 

yellow-billed stork

I felt uncomfortable leaving them there. There were two guys in the front and a mother with a small child in the back. But we suspected that the park must deal with this sort of thing rather frequently. Sure enough, a bit later in the morning we passed them on the road and they gave us a pleasant wave. Hopefully they didn’t have any more mishaps.

 

warthog, obviously

We carried on our way. The weather was mostly overcast but not rainy. It wasn’t great for photography but the lack of sun made the temperature quite comfortable. To be honest, we didn’t see as much as we’d hoped. We’d heard from people in another vehicle that they had seen some lions but we ended up not seeing them. We’d heard a rhino had been seen as well. We’d seen a couple of them the previous time we were in the park but not this time.

 

watching each other

To be honest, it was okay with us. It was just good to be out. I think the girls were a bit disappointed but one must take the good with the bad. In their relatively short lives they’ve had some pretty amazing safari experiences. It’s probably good for them to have less than amazing once in a while.

Alas, by noon we were headed back home to our self-isolation. Wild contrast to how we spent the morning. Will be looking to do this more often.

Rainy Season and the Relentless Virus

I’ve said before in this blog but I’m a big fan of the rainy season – at least the rainy seasons that I’ve experienced in East Africa. It’s not so much the precipitation, though the life-giving water is of course wonderful so long as it stops short of flooding or mudslides (there’s been a few deaths already this year in Kenya). It’s more about the dynamic weather. I love the crazy weather patterns, violent thunderstorms, etc. It helps that the rain isn’t accompanied by cold. It’s also different from other parts of the world where the rainy season consists of nearly constant cloudiness and a perpetual dankness. Here we have periods of sun mixed in where things can dry out a bit before the next deluge of heavy tropical rain.

Being in self-isolation, I suppose I notice the weather a bit more. We’re in an apartment above the trees so we have a decent perspective, particularly during my endless Zoom calls. We also go up to the roof more to exercise and hang laundry so we get a nice bird’s eye view of the ever-changing sky. The sky is normally a bit clearer this time of year but there really does appear to be a coronavirus lockdown effect making it clearer than normal. Quite beautiful, actually. Supposedly you can see Mt. Kenya from Nairobi nowadays. I can’t verify that given that there’s a big building under construction blocking our view in the direction of where the mountain would be. It’s a wonderful thought though – that the air quality might have improved to that extent.

Work is showing no signs of abating. Quite the contrary. Our Covid-19 response is in high gear. The virus seems to be working its way through Somalia unabated. We’re trying to protect not only our staff but the people we support in the general population. It’s not easy. Several staff have communicated that they are ill. Very few want to be tested. The reasoning is complicated and it’s not the same for everyone. People generally seem to know that the virus is dangerous but for some, they don’t feel it’s dangerous enough to modify their behavior in any significant way. Some are concerned that if someone dies then they would be prevented from burying them according to local customs. For many there’s also a certain cavalier attitude towards such things in the country. It’s hard to explain but it centers on the fact that people in Somalia have been through so much over the years. They’ve experienced the weight of sustained insecurity and civil war. Drought. Famine. Flooding. Locusts. Poverty. Food insecurity and malnutrition. Cholera. Malaria. Etc. Etc. Covid-19 is a new piece in a mosaic of ways to be sick and/or die. It tends to make a person a bit more desensitized to threats. For the more affluent people in Western countries who don’t continually live on the edge, it’s hard to understand what this is like. For them it’s a temporary suspension of a “normal” life. For most Somalis, it’s

I had an interview this morning on BBC/TV. The interviewer asked about the current spike in reported Covid-19 cases in Somalia and the likelihood of many more unreported cases. As is always the case in this country, I find it difficult to formulate sound bites in this context given the complexities. People don’t have the attention span to hear the whole story. The journalist doesn’t want you droning on and on. They want you to get to the point. So you need to find ways to convey complex messages that don’t require too many words. It’s an art to do this well. Even before I began doing this job, but more so in recent years, I’ve observed people do this with varying degrees of success. One of the best I’ve seen was Bill Clinton. Not everyone may agree with his politics but it’s hard to deny the fact that he was a master at this sort of thing. Being a Rhodes Scholar from Arkansas, I think he instinctively knew that he couldn’t come across as pretentious and not everyone listening to him had the same level of education. As a result he developed a rather folksy way of discussing rather sophisticated topics. It likely helped him get elected. Unfortunately I don’t possess the same talent. I tend to over explain, at the risk of losing my audience, particularly if it’s a topic about which I’m passionate. I give the media editors something to do. But I’m getting better at it.

In any case, people are not really staying home. They’re not social distancing. They’re generally not wearing masks. Basically, there’s little to slow the virus down at this point. People are still socializing much as they normally would. It’s Ramadan and that complicates things further. We’re fastening our seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.