It’s been an interesting old week. And I mean interesting in the British use of the word.
Technically, its week two of a new deployment, but since I spent the first week stuck in the capital reading and preparing for one donor meeting, I don’t really think that counts. In the end it turned out that the donor representative was a guy that I had met previously in Sudan, and upon meeting each other at 2pm in a coffee shop, we rapidly concluded that the meeting would have been much better scheduled for 7pm in a pub.
This week, I travelled to my ‘nearly’ field base. I say nearly because it’s the nearest current field base to an area that I am going to assess and try to set up another. But really, the first one is not actually functional. My assessment was delayed because there were no cars, then there was no money, and now it appears we’re not even sure whether the place I am going to work is actually safe for anyone to work in at all. Coupled with that the office has run out of every possible useful thing like paper, printer ink, wifi and oh, I already said money, right? So things are frustratingly slow.
It’s really bloody hot. I am really annoyed about this because when I was last home, I met up with a friend who I’ve only ever seen on deployments before. His reaction on seeing me was, ‘Wow! You look great! It’s so nice to see you in your normal clothes!’ When I jokingly asked if that meant I always looked like shit on deployments, he responded, ‘Well… yes.’ So after that, I tried extra hard to pack a wardrobe that walked that narrow line between ‘field-practical’ and ‘Banana Republic model’. But now, it’s so bloody hot that I want to discard any notion of clothes and sit naked, preferably in some kind of wind tunnel constructed from standing fans, in an homage to a Britney Spears video circa 2003.
Add to that I’ve been on my period and this week it’s been a particularly nasty little fucker. Every so often my reproductive system likes to remind me that my perceived control of my own body is an illusion and that in fact, she’s the boss, by smacking me about with a god-awful one. So I have been enjoying the delights of trying to rapidly, noiselessly sort myself out in the poorly soundproofed toilet attached to the WASH office, without the aid of toilet paper or a bin. Yes, I said next to a WASH office (cue face palm emoji). In fact, me and my manager brainstormed a wish list of things we needed for the office, and toilet paper only came in at number 6 because we are such dedicated humanitarians items for programme function come higher than items for personal hygiene… When I wasn’t running to the loo every two minutes, worried that the inordinate amount of sweat off my arse was in fact leakage, I was sat trying to be nice to people whilst feeling like the Highways Agency was building a new motorway bypass on my lower spine.
I got some bad news this week. A friend and old time flame of mine from some years back had passed away, and although I wasn’t very close to him anymore, it shocked me to think of someone so young and full of life ceasing to be. It made me think a lot about my life and what I’m doing…. would I really look back at this week and think, ‘yeah, I was rocking that shit, I was living my dream’? I feel like for the last month or so I have been treading a line close to a full on breakdown… or at least several prolonged biscuit binge eating sessions. I’m so near tipping over into hiding under duvet territory that I’m not sure how much yoga, meditation or ‘positivity themed’ memes are going to right me up again.
Alongside my 99 other problems, a boy adds one. There is a guy I like, who also likes me, but it’s just not happening. It might be the 6000 miles separating us. It might be the lack of internet connectivity to have a decent conversation and then again, it might be that he’s not actually bothered to ask me how I’m doing in my new post. The answer – in case you are wondering – is ‘not as well as I would be doing if you were actually bothered/interested/at the same stage as me in the relationship forming stakes’. So I am also dealing with my own disappointment that its auf wiedersehen to another eX-Factor hopeful, and hello to the temporary – possibly reproductive system driven – low state that comes with wondering whether you will ever actually have a meaningful relationship when you don’t stay in one location for more than three months.
It’s weeks like this, I’m reminded of the part in one of the Harry Potter’s where Ron claims, ‘One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode’, and Hermione quips, ‘Just because you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have’. In this scenario I like to think that Mr. eX-Factor is the emotional-intelligence-deficient teaspoon. I need to give myself a bit of credit, I haven’t exploded yet. To be honest I feel more like on the edge of melting into a sweaty puddle. And as for all of the other nagging stuff that tinkers with my brain when I’m trying to sleep on a mattress on the floor of my Funding Manager’s hotel room… I’m sure it will quieten when I get busy, and instead find another, completely unrelated circumstance in which to reappear, making me look like an utter lunatic. Oh, I do look forward to that day. Until then, I might have to keep a stock of biscuits nearby, just in case.