What is your facebook status?

I have been an active member of facebook for some time now. In the beginning it was more a tool to stay connected to my friends in London; now it seems it has conquered the francophone world and most of my friends are also facebook friends.

Facebook has put me back in contact with some friends I totally lost touch with, mostly from primary school or high school. It’s also a good way to find out what happened to the people you shared some time with.

I am however intrigued with the whole facebook status thing that is going on. Like any other network site, it is asking your name, DOB, hometown and finally your status. Your status defines in what kind of relationship you are. There are the obvious: single, engaged, married and the not so evident: “it’s complicated” and “in an open relationship”.

When I first joined facebook I ticked the single box. No question asked I was really single and didn’t think twice about it. After getting a couple of silly emails from guys I didn’t know offering me some not so honorable services, I un-ticked the box and became “nothing”. The following hours I had a couple of emails from friends asking me who the lucky guy was. The power of facebook.

But what astonishes me even more is to get notifications that someone is newly single. Obviously the poor “friend” has just been dumped or decided to terminate a relationship and the first thing you think about is “gosh I have to change my facebook profile, it’s totally not accurate anymore.” Action that becomes even stranger when hours later you can read that the person is “in a relationship” … or “engaged”.

So yes I understand, people change their mind all the time, hell I do to. But my initial reaction wouldn’t be to post it on facebook…

And when do you decide to put such information on facebook? Is it a mutual decision or does one party find himself suddenly tagged in a relationship? Is there a conversation beforehand necessary? If you are in a facebook relationship does that mean it’s serious?

There is no more mystery on the world wide web.

Belgique - fin d'une belle époque?

365 days since the last elections in Belgium and the feeling nothing is resolved… even worse we are even more antagonised than previously.

This weekend I was watching the Belgian news on the internet and reports from both “sides” where showing a survey where nearly half of the Flemish people interrogated thought that a separation was possible. What has happened to my country? What are we getting ourselves into when other more pressing issues are at stake?

Did I miss something or didn’t I read that the economy is not going well, that more and more Belgians have to live with less money, that unemployment rates are not going down, etc

One year of crisis, ultimatums, name-calling, threats, and absolute ridiculousness towards the outside world. Flanders is even asking Wallonia not to attack it so badly because it is concerned about the bad image it is reflecting abroad… Well it is. And for that to change it is not only Wallonia that has to change attitude but Flanders too.

When I arrived in Geneva, I met a couple of Americans. For the first time they had heard about Belgium. Not because of its beer, chocolate or capital of Europe. For them it was a country “like Somalia right, one without a government”. So ok it’s not as bad as Somalia. We are too well off to fight but it is starting to look like one of these African countries we so much like to criticize for its inability to govern correctly. Tribes that are not getting along, that want to keep the power or take the power from the other, that do not want to share the welfare they have made for themselves.

To people here, Belgium is merely the country were kids are not allowed to play in parks because they don’t speak the language, were housing depends of the willingness of learning the other language and where mayors are not allowed to step into their mandate even though they were elected.

If you want this perception to change, you need to change your attitude. And to change people’s attitude you need to work on tolerance between two communities, embrace their differences and acknowledge the similarities. Change the attitude in the press and make news that covers the entire country and not the communities. Make sure people actually speak the three languages (yes there is a third one).

If you don’t wish to do so, if you believe it is too late like so many Flemish politicians are now proclaiming out loud, then enough is enough. What is happening now is not a negotiation. To my perception, we are faced with two groups having antigonised views on what to do with our country and that will not bulge because of an electorate that they have to please.

Switzerland and social rules….

Two weeks ago, my boss told me that one of my colleagues was losing her job. No warning, no misconduct, no nothing. From one day to another, it was finished. To me, she was the hardest working girl of our team or at least she seemed to. I have no idea what people do behind their computer but she was never late for anything. She was the one who keeps my colleague and me in line, reminding us what we should be doing as we are both a bit loopy.

The only thing that I could say is that she was a bit miscast in her job as she was never really used to work with journalists. However, in Belgium this would never be possible.
This colleague received also an outstanding evaluation a few months before. Now I don’t want to bash my work but since this incident we have been looking into Swiss Labour law and it is quite outrageous…

Apparently in Switzerland no need for a written contract, although it is highly recommended. But even with a contract the employer can sack you without any reason from one day to another. How much time he gives you is up to your contract. If you were a bit silly and signed a contract that says that you can be laid off asap well there is the door and no need to come back.

If you believe you were sacked for unlawful reasons, which would be my colleague’s case, you must know that in Switzerland there are only three unjustified reasons:
1. Getting sacked during maternity leave
2. getting sacked while sick
3. and to be honest I don’t remember what the third reason was but something quite silly.

Even if you are found right in a court of law, you have no right to get your old job back… you only get 6 months pay, however long you have been working there.

People here take their work very seriously. Must be a reminiscent of Protestantism in its hardest form. Contracts are an average 42 hours/week work, you have 20 days holidays but you have to built it up: two days a month. If you leave before the end of your contract, your already taken days will be taken off your last pay (ok to be honest I think it’s the same in Belgium).

Swiss people also like to vote all the time. Well at least in Geneva. They vote on everything. Should Geneva hold a party for the Euro 2008, should there be a smoking ban, should dangerous dogs be forbidden in a park and so on. So of course when it comes to work Swiss people vote, what else is there to do on a Sunday in Geneva?

So when they were asked if they would like to have 5 days more holidays paid per year they voted… NON. And the government had to organise three different rounds to finally get people to agree on prolonging maternity leave with… one week…

Must be the cheese that drives them nut!

Blogger’s block...

Or Writer’s block if you prefer, although I don’t really qualify as a writer , “is a phenomenon involving temporary loss of ability to begin or continue writing, usually due to lack of inspiration or creativity (wikipedia)”, and that has been exactly my problem.

Not that I didn’t want to update my blog, or even didn’t give it a go. I have about 15 posts that I have started but never finished. My only excuse: it was always revolving around my dad and somehow I didn’t want to finish the post, or didn’t know how to.

Losing someone is a strange feeling. You can try imagining it as much as you can but honestly it never comes close. When my dad was sick, I sometimes wondered what it would be like if it was all finished. Most of the time, I thought I would be relieved, I thought it would give me space, make me worry less. I couldn’t be more wrong. Now, months later, he is still very much present. There is probably not a day that I don’t think about him; much more than when he was alive.

Guilt, sadness, anger, I feel it all in one day. Like I said before, small things I want to share with him and I simply can’t anymore. Strangely, I don’t really appreciate them anymore either. And more importantly, I don’t want to share much about what is happening in my life with people and especially my mum and my stepdad cos I can’t share it with him anymore. I know it makes people who are close to me sad but for the moment I just don’t want anyone close to me. I guess I just don’t want to go through all this again.

I have to force me to accept that it is ok to go on. I mean, yes I have been working, making friends here in Geneva and tried to have some fun. But the last few months, I have kind off buried myself in my work, my books and my computer. Winter was great cos I could ski every weekend and just not think about it. Now it is much more difficult I find. A good friend of mine who lost her mum told me the longer it is the more difficult it becomes.

I think for me now, the difficulty is to accept that he is gone, that I will never see him again and never speak to him again. That he will never know how my life turned out to be. Was I happy? Did I find happiness in my job? Did I meet someone who I truly loved? Did I have kids? Did I become a good person?

Difficult is also that people and memories just fade away: I have to think before I can picture him in my head. What did his voice sound like? What was his laughter like?

Relieved on the other hand cos I don’t believe he was very happy the last few years of his life. His various illnesses had left him without energy and he had to ask for help all the time. My dad was a proud man, an intelligent man who could not do as much at the end of his life. Walking up the stairs, running errands, coming to Brussels to see me; all that was just too demanding on his body. His apartment was a mess and he didn’t know how to make it better and he was just too proud to ask for help. Being sick made him deeply unhappy and in a way it affected me as well.

Yesterday, it should have been his birthday. Another day you want to call him but that is just not possible anymore. However, for the next couple of months, I have decided to let him go. I need to. Just for a while, I need to think about myself.

At least until September.

Happy birthday

First birthday without my dad. Just wanted to wish him a happy birthday. I like that picture.

Going back home

Three days before Christmas. Thousands of people heading home to their families; like little ants running through the airport. And I am one of them. So many people live far away from their families. I guess it’s part of globalization. Most of us can’t find a job where we live or can’t find the dream job in their hometown and so we move. Some go 900 km far away, others cross half of the globe to find happiness. But nearly all of us go back home for Christmas.

My family has never really celebrated Christmas. We didn’t have a tree, we offered gifts on New Year’s eve, we didn’t have the obligatory turkey. We just had a small family dinner. Small as it was just my mum, stepdad and me. I am more a New Year person. But as usual, 2007 is different. This year is going to be without my dad. I shouldn’t be a hypocrite. Usually I didn’t see my dad on the 24th. Sometimes I saw him on the 25th but it wasn’t regular.

Strangely when someone dies the meaning of these days changes. I will miss him of course but then I miss him everyday. It’s more the small things that are difficult. Like I said before: the new job, friends, experiences that I cannot share with him. The text message that he did not send this year at 7.45 pm, the exact hour I was born. Those things hurt.

However, it made me think about life in general. About putting things to later. “Oh yeah I should see this and that person”, “I’ll do this when I have a boyfriend”, and so on. I don’t want that anymore. I might become selfish but if I want to do something I will try to do it. There is no sane reason to keep on putting your life on hold. Saving money, yes fair enough but if you have enough why not go to New York for the holidays. Always wanted to work abroad? Do it. Don’t let fear, family or other consideration stop you. You don’t speak the language? You don’t have a job there yet? Does it really matter or are those just excuses to persuade ourselves that if those obstacles disappeared we would do it?

You can always find a job. It can be a shitty one but you can be a waiter in London, work on a farm in Australia, and teach in Africa.

Always wanted to buy an apartment or house? Always wanted to visit a country or city but waiting for mr/mrs right to do it with? What if you never meet that person? Should you exclude yourself from doing what you really want? Should we really live our lives expecting to find that special person to share things with? And worse what if that person hates your dream city? Should you never go then?

I know that things are usually easier when you sharing the experience with another person. Human beings are not made to live on their own. And financially it is easier if you have two incomes, especially when it comes to buy something. But small things like going on holiday by yourself, leaving your hometown for a couple of months to work somewhere else, doesn’t cost that much. It just requires courage. So do it. I am trying anyway.

Verbier

Zermatt

Three months

Three months since Friday that my dad has died, and not one day without thinking about it. Until now I have never really found the words to express what I feel and I am not sure I do now. So why try to lay down my feelings about this today? In a couple of hours I’ll be 29 and this is my first birthday without my dad. I received birthday cards from my mum and step dad and from my grand father. They were so sweet but also a reminder that this year my dad won’t send me one. It will also soon be the first Christmas, the first New Year, his first birthday and before I know it, it will be the first anniversary of his death. A series of “first” then “seconds” etc; days that will never have the same significance as before. Days that will be tainted with a loss.

Coming to Geneva was probably the best thing to do for my mental sanity but it makes it also harder. Brussels would have been business as usual. Geneva is different. Different job, challenges, friends, life style, experience, all of which I wish I could share with him and can’t anymore. I still remember the day I arrived here, Sunday 7th October, sending a text message to my mum to tell her I arrived safely and then nearly sending it to my dad. I also remember not been able to sleep the first month I lived here. Worried about all the stupid paperwork but also because I kept dreaming about him, waking up in sweat convinced it was all a bad dream and that he was still alive. Except he isn’t. I can’t send him text messages about what I am doing here, about the challenges in my new job, the beautiful place I live in, the friends I made. The hardest until now was the week that I was working at the UN. I think he would have been proud of me had he known.

I know that time is a great healer and that over time it will all be easier. My mum, step dad and friends have all been extremely supportive and I wouldn’t have made it without their help. Also, as I said before, it’s the first for everything so the loss is emphasized. Those “special” days will never really be the same anyway. But what if I forget? What if one day, it’s the 14th of September and I completely forget it’s the day my dad died. Or I forget his birthday.

I miss you dad, and I wish you were here.

Geneva - the job

I haven’t talked about the job yet. As previously said, I work as a press officer in an NGO. Can’t say which one cos they’re not always in favour of uncontrolled blogs and also it doesn’t matter that much. Currently I am working for a campaign that aims to influence national and international policy makers to improve access to treatment and stimulate innovation of new medicines and diagnostic tools for developing countries.

Or an easier to put it is: before 2000, treating someone who was HIV positive cost 10.000 US$ per year. After years of advocacy and negotiations, the price is now around 300US$ per year, still too expensive for the patient but affordable for us, even though we wished it was still cheaper.

Two weeks ago, I participated at the IGWG meeting, the intergovernmental working group on public health, innovation and intellectual property. Intellectual property in the form of patents prevents developing countries to have access to essential medicines. Patents keep the drugs prices artificially high, as one manufacturer keeps a monopoly on the product and can decide of its price. My NGO wants to separate the cost of research and development of the medicine from the price of the drug. We are not against patents; we are against their effect.

The pharmaceutical industry, one of the most lucrative industries in the world, argues that they need the money brought by patents to fund their research. However, of the 1556 new drugs approved between 1975 and 2004, only 21 (1,3%) were specially developed for tropical diseases and TB, which account for 10% of the global disease burden (to read more).

TB is a very good example of how R&D (research and development) needs to be reconsidered. Tuberculosis claims 2 million deaths each year – almost 4 lives every minute – and two billion people (one third of the population) carry the bacilli. Most of them will not develop the disease as it is triggered by a low immune system. But a low immune system is a characteristic in HIV infected people. TB is the number one killer of HIV infected patients. For a couple of years now the TB community has been faced with another problem: resistant strains of TB. “Normal” TB can be cured and the drugs are efficient, though the cure is very long and difficult (up to 8 months), when you live in Belgium where social security is good you can manage; it’s going to be though but manageable. In developing countries where often the choice is between working and bringing food to the table or getting cured, it’s impossible. Resistant strains can only be cured with highly toxic medication with awful side effects, banned years ago because too dangerous. The R&D in TB is scares. Why? Because it’s not a highly profitable disease.

In the West, people infected with TB will rarely develop a resistance because they will get cured easily. In developing countries, patients don’t get diagnosed on time or cannot take their medication properly.

Another example is children infected with HIV. This problem nearly doesn’t appear anymore in the developed countries, as the antenatal care is good, mother are given proper medication and give birth by caesarian to prevent mother-to-child transmission. Therefore research in drugs to cure children infected with the virus have not really been developed. Doctors in our field project used to break adult tablets to give to the children; or they gave syrup that tasted awfully and sometimes even needed refrigeration! After years of advocacy R&D in drugs for infected children is finally getting somewhere.

Patents have been created to protect someone’s invention. You put hard labour into inventing or creating something and as a reward you get a protection for a certain period that prevent anybody to copy your work without permission, acknowledgment or royalties. This also allows the inventor of putting a price on his product. We don’t see how much a drug really costs as with our social security, the government is paying the difference. So a drug that we think costs 10 euro probably costs 10 time more. In countries without social security this has a direct impact to the patients access to drugs.

Patents exist on every single product but they don’t have such a disastrous effect on people as the patents on drugs. Simple example, when Philips invented the CD player, the price was extremely high. Within the next year prices dropped and two years later nearly everyone could afford a CD player. Other companies like Sony, Samsung quickly manufactured their own CD players. But the CD technology has a patent. But Philips was clever enough to put the CD player technology in a patent pool, meaning that everyone who was going to use the CD player technology to copy or improve it would have to pay royalties to Philips. This keeps the research active. This is not what pharmaceutical industries want. Putting the research for neglected and most neglected diseases to a shameful low.

Geneva - eight weeks later

Eight weeks that I have been here and only one post…. Shame on me…. Two main excuses: one I have been incredibly busy with my new job and other things, and secondly, living abroad is not that different than living in your own country. You get up in the morning, you work way too much, you get home knackered, you go out for the occasional drink and you go back to bed. In the film “l’auberge espagnole”, when the main character comes home after spending a year in Spain and his mum asks him over dinner “so how was it?” his reply is “well you know nothing special”. That comment is so true. For people who have never had the chance of living abroad, it seems exotic. For me, who is very fortunate to have lived in London and now Geneva, it’s more a day-to-day sort of life, not so much different than Brussels.

It’s got also probably a lot to do with the fact that London and Geneva are not that different from Brussels. If I lived in Asia, the States or Africa, I might be able to say more as the culture is so different. For the couple of American friends I have here, nearly everything is different: the stores that close early (I have to confess that was a surprise too the first couple of days when I went to the supermarket at 6.30 and found closed doors), the no–tipping policy, the walking rather than taking the car habit, etc….

But yes Geneva is very different from what I expected. For one, it’s much more fun than I thought. Before coming here, every time I was saying to people I was moving to Geneva for work, they were looking at me if I was going to hell.

Geneva was described to me as the place where: everybody goes to bed at 10, no social life whatsoever, everyone is very uptight. In short: I was going to be extremely lonely.

Nothing could be further from the truth. In fairness, I have fewer friends here than in Brussels but it’s not hard to make new acquaintances here. This city of about 180.000 people is composed by 45% of expats. Most in their late twenties, early thirties and most all single without any friends either. We are kind of all looking for new friends. It was so much more difficult to make new friends in London. There, everyone had their friends and getting included in a group is not easy. Here, people stay a couple of years, then move again. Groups are making and dissolving themselves rather quickly. Therefore joining a new group is totally normal here.

Living in Geneva is also a very good life. Okay it’s hugely expensive, but at the same time it’s much more laid back. People here are sweet, polite, and helpful. The bus driver will not drive away if he sees you run to him, nobody will complain if you take too long in a queue asking for some silly info that is known to everyone in Geneva but you. Again to be completely honest, not all my friends think that. But that’s probably because they don’t speak the language and communications are therefore more difficult.

I also only have to walk two minutes from my apartment to be at the lake. When it’s sunny, and that is quite often here, I take my bike and go for a trip.

One thing though drives me crazy here: the rules and the permits. For everything there is a rule and/or a permit. It goes from the “vignette” without that you’re not allowed to drive (for my part a good idea) to a paper for your bike (still don’t have that – kind of boycotting that, why should I be paying to ride my bike?)

Parking is also a nightmare and a good example of how rules literally rule your life. You simply cannot park here. Streets are divided in zone: the resident zone, the blue zone, the yellow zone and the white zone. To park you have to pay and you can only stay 90 minutes in the street where you’re parked. After that you have to drive away. And believe me they will fine you if you either stay or think they will not check up on the car. There are only two places where I have found out you can park here without a problem: the first one is called “le bout du monde” and the name says it all. The other one is a street next to the UN and the missions. My car is there and will unlikely move. On Sunday, people are waiting in their car for another car to drive away and to take the spot. It’s a street with about 40 parking spaces and 180.000 people in the city. It’s the parking jungle.

Life in Geneva - part one

So it's been one week and two days since I've arrived in Geneva. And a lot has happened... Here's what I did (not in order):

1. Got a cold, went to the pharmacy and realised that medicines should probably be shipped from Brussels in order to still stay affordable.
2. Pharmacists don't give you drugs easily here. You have to beg for them to give you spray that is actually stronger than mouth wash.
3. On the other hand, they are nice...
4. Come to think about it, everybody here is nice. Not in an American sleazy and hypocritical way, just genuinely nice. Everywhere.
5. Found myself an apartment.
6. With a bed :-), in a room, gorgeous, big, with internet, washing machine, garage for my bike, and more importantly in the middle of Geneva, two minutes from work
7. Why the heck did I take my bike then?
8. Oh yes.... Saturday the weather was gorgeous so went for a bike tour along the lake. Sunday weather equally gorgeous did the same thing, only bigger tour and took a book with me. Read my book lying on a bench next to the lake.
9. I know, you're all jealous
10. Actually, if I take my bike to work, I get there in one minute.
11. Since Friday I wake up one minute later. Yippee
12. Oh yes... nearly forgot. Started a new job.
13. I am now officially the communication officer for the access to essential medicines campaign.
14. Thank god, they are two others... too much work
15. Nobody leaves work before 7.00pm
16. So I don't – not yet anyway
17. Went out on Friday with Mallory and her friends
18. Very nice friends, good evening and I can walk home from Old town to my bed in 15 minutes... and it's along the lake.
19. First big party in Geneva on Saturday: Rugby - and England won.
20. Watching second semi-final on Sunday - oh my god South Africa is going to wipe us out
21. Some people told me Geneva was going to be boring. Well it's not super exciting but it's relaxing and some parties are happening, just not during the week.
22. oh and yes... took some pictures... here they are... enjoy

Ahhhh le Jet d'eau... difficult not to take its picture




My flat mate Ruud - he went for on Saturday around the lake, I followed with my bike. Here are some pictures of what we see when we run here...















Before that, in the morning, we explored the market... Very cheap vegetables and fruits. Sunday I made a pumpkin soup that was pretty good (although not as good as Amanda's).








And this is my street... Litteraly two minutes from the lake

Voir Dublin et mourir....

It has always been a dream of mine to visit Dublin and when Niamh, one of my Dublin colleagues’ and friend, invited me for her birthday in September, I didn’t have to think twice about going or not.

I finished work on Tuesday, packed my stuff for my six months expatriate trip to Geneva and left for Dublin on Wednesday.

Dublin is obviously a capital but still it’s not huge like London or Paris.You can walk everywhere, although I have to confess by Friday my feet where killing me, everything is cramped in the city centre. Wednesday is decided to have a general walk. I only had a few days and didn’t really want to miss anything. One of Niamh’s colleagues gives me some tips and with my map I can manage perfectly well. And anyhow, if you stay on a corner looking a bit puzzled, people come immediately to offer assistance… There is no way you can get lost in Dublin.

It’s a very interesting city if you like architecture. Houses are in Victorian style, covered in laurel and you kind of feel like you’re walking in an historic movie. Nearly every house has also a copper plate with the name of some famous Irish bloke who was born, lived or died in the house. I guess the sport in Dublin is to find a house without a copper plate!



Everything is also bilingual: English and Gaelic. The later is totally unpronounceable to me and Niamh and her flat mates have great fun hearing me trying to pronounce their cities.



One of my first visits was Trinity College. Beautiful building, interesting history but what makes it all worthwhile is the history society guided tours. Elisabeth, one of the guides, makes it a funny and very different visit from what you can expect. Apparently until 30 years ago Catholics were not welcome at Trinity College. Mary Robinson, former Prime Minister, had to ask for special permission to her bishop to attend Uni.



Elisabeth has also a very funny way of describing how students live. In some dorms, there are no showers or toilets and students have to go outside. In a girls’ dorm there was only one plug per floor until one year ago. You can imagine how difficult it was with your mobile, laptop, ipod charger and hairdryers. Another funny story is the acceptance of girls at Trinity. The story goes that George Provost, one of the most adamant opponents, apparently said “over my dead body” and actually died the day after the new regulation was passed. After the tour I went for lunch in the university cafeteria I think I looked young and lost enough to pass on for an Erasmus student ☺



The rest of my Dublin visit was pretty typical of any tourist: St Patrick’s cathedral, Christ church, going to see a live Irish band play music, visiting the James Joyce museum and Oscar Wilde’s house. One of the most beautiful places I’ve been during my three-day stay was the National Library. An exhibition about the Irish poet Yeats was organised but actually if you go there don’t hesitate about going upstairs to visit the library itself.



I was supposed to stay until Sunday, 16th September, leaving afterwards for Gairloch (Scotland) with Amanda, Archie and Pradeep (he plan was to rent a house and stay in Scotland for a week, enjoying nature, bike rides and walking). Niamh was celebrating her thirties’ birthday on Saturday night.



Unfortunately, the Belgian police phoned me on Friday evening to tell me that my dad had died. Apparently he fell down his stairs at home some days before and the neighbours got worried. Small consolation is that the doctor told me that he died instantly and probably didn’t suffer.

Niamh and her flat mates immediately brought me back to the airport, not before giving me the “alternative” tour of Dublin. Niamh’s boyfriend Mike really made this horrific morning pass well. At the airport, they all spit in different groups, queuing to the different companies to find me the cheapest and fastest way back home. Sadly, there wasn’t a direct flight to Brussels but British midland gave me their cheapest ticket but also gave me access to their business lounge, so I could relax. That made really the difference as well. I don’t think I could have managed 5 hours in the middle of Heathrow airport with screaming kids and people coming back from holidays.

Geneva - the sequel

So after two months I am back in Geneva. A lot has happened the last two months, so much so I didn’t really have time to write anything. It’s been exciting and stressful times. First job wise: two weeks after my interview in Geneva and a test in Brussels, they told me I was accepted for a 6 months contract to start with. In the meantime the UN invited me for an interview and then again for another one. I was in the last four but didn’t get it. I wasn’t really great during the interview and also the others had far more experience and networking skills than I have for the moment. So I accepted the job. The fact that it’s only for 6 months to start off with is reassuring: I don’t like it, it will be over quickly, I like it and more importantly, they like me, I can stay.


Also I am going back to my first love: medicine. This job is basically a campaign that focuses on making drugs available to everybody, so a lot of lobbying towards the pharmaceutical companies, WHO and WTO. Exciting stuff. However, now, back in the Geneva offices I feel overwhelmed, scared, excited and all of the above ☺

So now I am relocating to Geneva, well actually not until end of September. Before that I am taking a well-earned break. First on week in Brussels and then I am flying to Dublin for four days and then to Scotland!

The week in Brussels will be welcome as I just bought myself an apartment there. Yes I know sounds ridiculous to buy something and then moving out but I did the first thing before deciding on the later. The apartment is coming out nicely, although no real personal touch as I will be renting it out to two lovely (well I hope so) girls.

The last thing I still need to do is find myself a place to stay here in Geneva. And that seems to be extremely difficult. Not a lot of studio’s or rooms for rent and all quite expensive… So that another thing I have to do. I’ll keep you posted.

Eternel recommencement

Long time no writing on this blog. The main reason is lack of time due to the start of our campaign and also because I had some “bad” news. The job I am currently doing is a replacement. I always kind of thought she wouldn’t come back to her old job but she has decided a couple of weeks ago that she would. Therefore I have to find a new job. Some might find that exciting, the start of a new thing. I kind of hoped to have a job for more than one year for once. I feel like the last 7 years I have applied more than worked. A few years ago it came to the point that I was sending out more than 50 cv’s a week. Just in order to get a job that would pay the rent basically.

I like my job now. They are things that I miss in my current job. I don’t write as much as I would like to. Personal initiative is kind of minimal. But the environment and the people I work with are great. It’s very interesting, I feel like my job as a purpose and the pay is good for an NGO.

So now it’s back to square one. Or not completely. Difference between now and a couple of years ago is that my cv is getting better and that I get interviews. So that’s why I am writing this blog from Geneva. I went there for an interview for the same NGO I am currently working for but a different section. It would be much more medical, I would write a lot more, initiative would be required. Only problem: it’s based in Geneva. And I don’t really know if I want to go there. For a year I wouldn’t mind, but I can’t see myself live there longer. It’s extremely quiet, people don’t seem to go out that much (how could they afford it anyway) and surprisingly it’s not the beautiful town I thought t was going to be. The old part is very nice but near the office it’s a bit like you’re stranded in the 60 in Eastern Europe.
There’s also the matter of my apartment in Brussels that I just bought, friends that I would miss… So a lot to think about for the next couple of days. But it’s early days yet, I don’t even know if I have the job… ;-)

The story of the foot

So it's been two weeks and my ankle was still in pain on Monday. So much that I thought the worst. Luckily there was a spot open to see the doctor immediately. And what has happened is too silly for words. My ligament is actually quite ok now. It's still a tiny torn but that shouldn't hurt so much. The pain is due more to the fact that I have been still for a week, trying to walk on it as little as possible. That was the doctor's order from the other clinic.

The result? My Achilles tendon (ok I had to look that one up - my English is not that good) is a little bit confused with me not walking anymore and has become lazy. You can laugh but that actually hurts as well. New orders from the doctor: walk normally, do some stretching and massages so that the blood goes back to my foot and that my muscles tend to be more supple.

Good news is: it works... Yesterday was a bit painful but today is already so much better.
Bad news: more and more I realise I actually should have succeeded in my medical studies.... At least I wouldn't have to go to various doctors with different diagnostic each time....

You live and learn.

Life on crutches....

After years of skiing, snowboarding, swimming, running, playing tennis, it’s a miracle that I haven’t hurt myself sooner. However life on crutches is not as fancy and fun as I imagined. Beside the fact that my ankle actually hurts quite a lot, I am not managing those crutches as well as I would like to. I don’t know how people manage to look cool with them but I nearly fall every time I take a step. It's difficult to open a door, take a shower, ...Also, my other leg is now killing me.
Anyway, my own dumb mistake; should have trained more…. And I shouldn’t complain too much: it’s not the end of the world and I can stay home another day tomorrow. Yippee

20km and one torn ligament later….

I did it!!! Ok, it took me 2 hours 49 minutes and 30 seconds but I did it. And I have a medal to prove it. Sadly now I have a torn ligament in my ankle and can’t really walk anymore.

Last Monday, the day after the 20km in Brussels, my legs were killing me. I thought that was pretty normal considering the amount of sports I had suddenly done compared to the last 28 years of my life. So I wasn’t that sussed about it. In the afternoon however, my ankle was killing me and I was incapable to walk on it. I thought I just had strained my muscle and didn’t want to be a sissy so I left it at that.

Today, a week later, and because my doctor told me to, I decided it was about time to go to the emergency room. Diagnosis: a torn ligament, 3 days in bed, one week on crutches…

I thought sports were supposed to be healthy… Thank god for 24, Desperate housewives and Prison break….

Liberia - last days

Monday – Tuesday - Wednesday 14th – 15th – 16th May

Tuesday morning in our clinic at New Kru Town. The waiting room is packed. It's very hot, smelly, noisy and about 200 patients want to see a doctor. Around 11 women gave birth during the night or in the early hours and therefore have to share their beds. At least two women per bed with their newborn baby. And we complain when we can't have a bed in a single room back home! Another 5 women are in labour in the other room.

Monday is usually the busiest day of the week. Liberians don't like to come on a Friday I am told. Work, looking food, lack of money, ignorance about the severity of their condition and probably the idea of the weekend puts them off of going to the hospital. However Monday 14th was Independence Day and the clinic was closed. So now Tuesday it's even worse than any other Monday.

Sofie and I decided to follow a patient. Theresa is 27 years old and suffers from high fever and acute headache. She arrived around 7.30 in the morning to get a number to see the doctor. By noon she's still in the waiting room. I have trouble staying there and I am not the one with an excruciating headache. It's noisy because the nurses keep on shouting numbers, babies are crying, people are talking loudly, it's even hotter than in the morning and the air is missing. Theresa is a typical malaria case, or at least that's what we suspect. Malaria is more and more frequent around this time of the year. Most people who come to the clinic are treated for this condition that is life threatening. Symptoms are a very high fever, chills and headache. If you leave it untreated, you can start convulsing, fall in a coma and die.

While Theresa is waiting just to see a doctor, Sofie and I go to the family planning. This is a program that is working very well. Women who have just given labour are advised to rest a little before they have a new baby. This is good for the mum but also for the newborn as it will breastfeed longer. Teenage girls who don't want to become pregnant also come here to get their free pill. One girl, 16 years old, came just to get her pill but during the consult we realise that she is shivering. I put my hand on her forehead, she is burning. Probably malaria. The nurse tells us where she needs to go and probably because Sofie and I were with her she is treated immediately. Well immediately is a vast conception. The result for the simple malaria test is negative and so they have to do a smear. Christiana will have to wait another 3 hours before it's confirmed she's indeed suffering from malaria and receive proper medication.

It's not the staff's fault. They are highly qualified, do a really good job, but they're just too many people. The corridors, the benches, the waiting rooms, the floors, everywhere it's packed with people waiting. Most of them wait for hours.

Theresa is still in triage. It's now 2.30 and she still hasn't seen a doctor. She's got number 108 and they're not there yet. I could have found a patient with a smaller number but I want to know I long it takes to see a doctor here. So far Theresa has had to wait for 6 and a half hours!

Theresa has nothing to read, she basically can't read anyway. She is staring quietly , not moving as she is scared she might lose her seat. Interviewing people in Liberia is not easy. They're friendly and very happy to talk to you but their English is so different from mine. They don't really understand my English and I have trouble with theirs. Somehow over the last week it's easier cos I am getting used to it but still. Here they call it pidgin English. Antenatal care is called "belly check", "passing poopoo" is diarrhoea, titty water is breast milk etc… Another difficult thing is that most people actually have no idea how old they are and how old their children are. For me, Western girl, absolutely obsessed by time it's the most difficult thing to grasp. They're usually in between ages. "I am in between 25 and 30 years old, my baby girl is about 5 to 6 months". Sometimes you definitively see that the baby girl is closer to one than to 7 months but most of the time it's hard to say.

This is a major problem when it comes to vaccination. Some vaccines can only be given after 5 months. Doctors therefore usually ask questions regarding the season, the sun and determine if the baby is old enough. You have to find a solution to everything here.

With the rape victims I have interviewed today, it's the same problem. They usually don't know when they have been raped. You have to kind of guess according to historic events. The woman today was raped somewhere during the first world war so probably around 1990-1992. As she told us she was married at that time we also determined her age: around 35 (and not 27 as she thought she was). Time is a different conception around here.

Theresa will finally see a doctor around 2.45 (yes I have a watch). Her malaria test is negative but her urine test is positive. She's got a urinary infection. She should have come on Friday when she had the first symptoms. That's why today (4 days later) she's got fever, pain in her lower back (due to the kidneys). But the main thing is that with strong antibiotics she'll be ok. So back to another waiting line: the pharmacy. About 25 people are before her in the queue. It will probably take another 30 to 45 minutes.

I can't stick around cos we have an emergency. A little boy with malaria is unconscious and needs to be transferred by ambulance to our other hospital. The mum is crying in despair, we rush to the hospital with An the midwife.
In Island hospital, doctors are immediately attending to him, I'm taking the mum to registration and trying to calm her down, reassuring her a bit. A few minutes later a nurse and I are putting the boy in a tub and put cold water on him to get the fever down and get him conscious. The boy will be fine but again it proves that sadly people wait too long before coming to hospital. Of course it's not their fault. They don't know, have no money. They're just trying to survive.


On a more personal note, I have been running a little bit in Monrovia. Never thought it to be possible as security is very tight but it is as long as you have a guy with you. So I have been running twice: once to Africa hotel (in the pre-war glory day the most beautiful hotel in the city) and to the beach. It's quite surreal to run here but it was nice. Also, Sam, the watsan (water and sanitation) specialist has taken us for dinner last night. We went to New Jack's, local bar/restaurant in downtown Monrovia run by Myriam, a Liberian woman married to an Oxfam employee. Her mum was there and told us about Liberia's history, the wars and the problem this country is facing today. It was nice to get an "inside" perspective. And if you ever go on holiday here, and hopefully one day it will be possible, it's the best food in town!

Weekend in Liberia

Saturday – Sunday 13th May

It's the weekend and so operations are a bit slow. Saturday I was invited at a wedding. Two members of the staff were getting married. One British girl with an Ethiopian man. In the morning Céline, Sofie and I went to chill out on the beach and get a tan. Well at least for Céline and Sofie. I just get either red or stay completely white. As I want some colour, I just stay in the sun. Result: I am red and have some spots on my face. Hopefully it will go away before I get back.

Talking about getting back… This is going to be difficult. I really like it here. The staff is great, expats and nationals, they made me feel more than welcome. I am not counting the days when Wednesday comes and I will have to catch the plane to Brussels. I am happy to see my friends and family back but also really like my job here. I hope I'll get the chance to go back on the field soon.

The wedding was set on Golden Beach in the centre of Monrovia. The sea there is completely different from the one that we usually go to (Cece beach). It's impossible to swim there as it's rough and dangerous. It was a really nice buffet and it was a good opportunity to speak to the staff in a different setting than just plain work.

I also had the chance to speak more extensively with the national staff. I wanted to know how they live, how they spend their days outside the NGO, how they saw the future, if things had changed since the war. They wanted to what Belgium was, like how I live and why white women are so scared of spiders .

Blackie, one of the national staff, invited me for the next morning to his church as I wanted to know how an African mass is celebrated.

The next morning I took the car downtown to an area where probably it's rare for "white" people to go. Blackie was waiting for me, all dressed up and proud that I would do the honour to visit his church. He had even warned the pastor that I was coming. African mass is very different from what we know. First you get the pastor to preach and then they basically sing and dance for nearly two hours. What's not different is that they have to give money to the pastor. For a population that's living on less than 1 dollar a day, they surely give a lot to the church. Blackie explains to me later that it's only because they actually don't have a church. It's kind of a small house with bullet holes (probably a leftover from the war in 2003) and a metal roof. No more than 15 people can sit in it but the community is growing so they need to move, hence the money… Hum

Houses are as scarce in Liberia as is clean water. They're a few from the glory days before the war and rarely inhabited by Liberians. Most "houses" are either ship containers that European companies just dumped, in "full" wood or "small" wood. Don't really know how the explain it correctly but some houses are entirely in wood, others just have four wood sticks and a metal roof.

Apart from being extremely hot, Liberia is one of the most humid countries in Africa, if not the most. It rains here regularly and when we complain in Belgium about a heavy rain shower, just come here and see hell break in the sky. It's amazing. But not for the people living in the wooden houses. After a rainy night you can see that it has rained inside their houses. You also have to imagine that they haven't got a running water system (nor toilet system) and no electricity (some have generators). The morning after the rain the smell inside the city is quite indescribable.

Cars are also a big issue. People have no money to buy a car and mostly take the cab. You have to imagine that yellow cabs are not taking one person but several people. They just hop in along the way, mostly four people cramped in the back, three in the front.

Africa can be considered as Europe's dustbin. Well at least Liberia, I haven't been to all the other countries and wouldn't call myself and African connoisseur. They get the t-shirts we can't sell anymore, the toys we wouldn't give to our children etc. The worst are the cars. If you ever wondered were your 13 year-old car is, well now you have the answer: it's in Africa polluting the atmosphere. I saw a car with a smap (Belgium insurance company now called something else) sticker on the back and one with a Kortrijk (a city in Belgium) sticker. A vast majority of the cars (used as cabs, Liberians rarely have a car) also have stickers at the back showing what country they're from (B for Belgium, CH for Switzerland, NL for the Netherlands are the most popular).

As a result, Monrovia is extremely polluted and it's sometimes hard to breathe when stuck in traffic. All this time we are lobbying for the environment and at the same time we dump our old, polluting cars on the poorest.

For those who are interested in reading more about Liberia and the NGO's, an actual writer has actually written a very good piece in the Observer. "Letter from Liberia", Zadie Smith, 29 April 2007. Go and check it, it's brilliant.