Mogadishu

I’m sitting in the Mogadishu airport lounge getting ready to head back to Nairobi. As is our security protocol, I don’t post anything while in country. I know people who work in the “green zone” that don’t have any such restrictions, but for those of us on the outside, this, and many other things, is different.

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An observation that I have made over several decades of travel is that there seems to be a correlation between the size and quantity of peoples’ luggage and their inability to carry it. Younger, fitter people tend to travel light. Frail and/or unfit people tend to have suitcases the size of studio apartments. Nowhere is this truer than in Somalia. Maybe it’s because they travel less so they need to carry everything in one go? I don’t know (I’ll avoid unpacking that here). I do end up volunteering my services quite regularly to hoist bags on conveyor belts and stuffing massive bags in overhead compartments.

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Over the years I’ve been mistaken for a few different nationalities, but I’m told I generally look American. Today, as I was walking towards the airport between the first two security checks, a guy looked at me and said, “Bosnian?” He said it two or three times. Anyway, that’s a first.

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Across from me, a couple of Somali guys, dressed as if they stepped off a tacky hip-hop video set, sauntered up to some chairs near the window where a Somali woman was sitting. With no words exchanged, she looked up at them, grabbed her phone, got up and moved to an adjacent table farther from the window. Without ordering anything (you need to pay for food/drink in this lounge), they proceeded to take a series of selfies. Me with my shades. Me with airplanes as a backdrop. Me looking serious. Me smiling. Me looking back over my shoulder. Now both of us. And on it went. When they had uploaded it all to the outside world, seemingly satisfied that their peers would be duly impressed by their barrage of pics, they slowly sauntered off. The women then got up and proceeded to return to her seat near the window.

Interestingly, these were all people in their twenties and not people reflecting behavior from days gone by. In some parts of the world, this sort of thing is perfectly normal, including this country obviously. What I also find interesting, and somewhat bewildering, is that there is also a courtesy towards women (and the elderly) that exceeds what you find in most Western countries. In about an hour, we will be boarding the flight and invariably, women and elderly will always board first. But that courtesy didn’t apply to that woman sitting alone in the lounge. A Somali colleague of mine, when we were discussing this subject, confirmed to me that there is a definitely a hierarchy, as you find in any country, but the one in this country is particularly complex. After more than seven years working in Somalia, I have a pretty good idea what it looks like. But I’m not sure I could explain it.

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I haven’t spent a full week in Nairobi since the first half of July. There has been a lot to do in Somalia connecting with staff, government officials, international community counterparts, etc. With some much turnover in this context, building and maintaining relationships is a never-ending task. But it’s critical in this context more than anywhere else I’ve worked. It tires me though. And then there was the week in regional meetings. I’m quite ready to spend a few days without travel.

Idaho 5 - The End of the Journey

With a sigh of relief, we packed up the tools from our building project, put them in our new storage, and prepared to return to my sister Cheryl’s place. But before calling it a day, we decided to go to a local hot spring for a swim and soak our tired muscles, or at least my tired muscles.

Idaho is blessed with many hot springs – some are more exploited for commercial purposes and some are just large holes full of hot water. Though I love the latter, this one sort of fits into the former category. It’s pretty basic but I sort of like it that way. It has a large and small pool pools sourced from natural mineral water fed by an artesian well and is cooled by the waters of the Little Salmon River. The small pool apparently averages around 104-105 degrees F. (around 40 degrees C.). It’s open year-round and we’ve been there mid-winter when you have to walk across snow to get in. Very cool.

One interesting fact is that they, and our property, are located within the Nez Perce Tribe’s (Nimiipuu) native territory once referred to as Chinook Meadows. The area holds historical and cultural significance for the tribe. The Nez Perce people used the hot springs for survival in the harsh winters but also for ceremonial and spiritual purposes. They were also used to fashion bows from the horns of bighorn sheep where the hot water softened the horn and made it easier to work and shape. Even today, the Nez Perce consider the waters to have significant spiritual, cultural and medicinal values.

View from the hot springs.

While we were speaking with the neighbors we have adjacent to our property, they told us that many arrowheads have been found on our land and that the place had fire rings that possibly dated back to the days when the Nez Perce were the occupants of the area. Cool thought (and yet a very sad thought).

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The next day, our last in the mountains, we spent the day/night in McCall at my sister’s other house. We took an early evening pontoon boat ride on the Payette Lake and then went to a nearby restaurant for dinner.

We were able to get an early start the next day, Friday, to make our way back to Boise where we would stay at my other sister CJ’s house again. We would have several errands to run before catching our flight Tuesday morning. In between the errands, we were able to catch some of the air show on Saturday and then again on Sunday.

Our last hurrah was dinner at my other sister, Lisa’s. It’s where we/I normally stay when we’re in Boise so we feel quite at home there. 

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In the end, I think we were all happy to get on the plane and return to our routines. The girls were subjected to too many weeks away from kids their own age. It’s important at this period in their lives. They do well with smaller children and grown-ups, but it’s obviously not the same.

Summer in Boise.

 

Idaho 4 - The Shed

The idea of building a shed came up a few years ago. I have some things that I've kept aside for when/if we set up residence in the US. I also have several boxes of books, photo albums, some clothes, etc. I also have more recent items like bikes, camping gear, winter gear, etc. For various reasons, my belongings are scattered among several locations. One reason is the lack of capacity to store them in one location. It hasn’t been ideal and I have a tendency to lose track of what is where and even what I own. For example, it’s happened that in preparation for backpacking that we have repurchased things that we already had.

So there has been a need to remove the burden of storage from my family members, organize and consolidate my stuff. Our property in Adams County seemed like the logical place for it. The family has been shifting in that direction for several years and over time, that’s likely where we will be the majority of the time when we’re in Idaho. It will be particularly useful as the house will be rented out for a few years. 

I realize that there are few things more boring to read than someone recounting the building of a shed (sounds boring even to type it), but it was kind of a big deal to me and the project carries some significance beyond the structure itself. 

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Prep Work

The build would be relatively straightforward. There was already a shell of a garage (supposedly built in 2017) and my idea was to create a storage space in the interior. The building is large enough to accommodate a decent-sized storage (24ft. x 10ft.) all the while leaving plenty of room to accommodate a couple of vehicles if need be. It's pretty well built and doesn't appear to have any leaks. The task was to build a 10-foot partition wall with a door and a ceiling above to assist in keeping out animals, bugs and so forth.

First, however, the garage needed a concrete floor. As mentioned before, it’s not easy getting this sort of thing done given the number of construction projects underway in the area. But it was a prerequisite to us being able to build the storage. No floor. No build.

On the first of August, I received word that the floor was done, I was elated. We would have our project and we could do this as a family, all of us learning as we go.

The next step was to order the materials and have them delivered to the garage. In the end, that was relatively easy given that there is a building supply place just up the road.

The last piece, which I discussed with my brother, was to make sure we had all the basic tools we needed. The tools I was able to get a hold of were basic and old. Most had not been used in years. But they were functional and that’s all that mattered. My brother had some newer tools that ended up being crucial to the success of the project. Someday, if/when I do more projects like this, I'll do some upgrading.

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The Build

The morning after returning from our backpack trip, we were at the shed and ready to go. The massive storm that was predicted finally arrived and would pummel the valley off and on for a couple of days. Thankfully, we were sheltered and it would have no bearing on our work. 

The wall.

Coffee break.

To be honest, I thought we could do it in two days. For various reasons this was not to be. It ended up using most of three. Given all the challenges we faced along the way, I’m not complaining. It was a lot of work and all the family contributed. For a bunch of rookies who had never really done something like this, there was some satisfaction that we pulled it off. 

The sheathing and the ceiling.

The electrical work on the property isn't done. There is no power to the garage so we had to run an extension cable about 120 feet for lighting and to power the electrical tools. 

That's my girl.

Sealing the cracks.

It was hard to know how this was going to work with the kids. We wanted them to be involved and learn some things. But we knew they would get bored after a while. In the end it was a bit of a balance between pulling them into things, teaching them how to use tools and understand a something about basic construction, but let them run around and do other things to make sure everyone maintained their sanity.

Lunch at the work site.

Done.

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I suppose one question was whether something like this inspired me to want to do more DIY projects in the future or whether it was one and done. I can easily say it’s the former. Part of it is that I enjoy working with my hands. Part of it is that we did this project without some things that would have made it far easier and far faster (ex. nail guns, electricity in the garage, etc.). We probably should have had some music going as well.

I have all sorts of ideas for future projects. But most of them will likely need to wait until I retire, whenever that is.