Tips for surviving the ‘extended break’

Next week, I’ll be heading back onto the good ship humanitarian, but for the last two months I have been on an extended break. I think the ‘extended break’ is a bit of a perk of the humanitarian lifestyle. Either by choice or design, you end up with a gap between contracts so you have a couple of months to please yourself, or in my case, you have spent so long working without a holiday that you have accrued a massive amount of leave that you need to take or risk losing it. I chose to spend my two months back at home ‘reconnecting’ rather than travelling or generally having fun. Whilst I’m sure that I didn’t achieve the ‘reconnecting’ objective, I feel like I have learnt some valuable lessons for surviving the extended break, which – in the words of Dave Gorman – I would like to share with you now…

  • Connect with people you haven’t seen for a while: Whilst this might seem like an obvious one, it is especially effective for one’s ego when you meet up with people that you worked with in the past in a terrible field location. When you have access to regular hot, running water, have been sufficiently de-wormed, and when you can actually eat a vegetable again, people will think you have undergone some magnificent transformation into a decent looking human being, whereas in reality you just swapped your logo t-shirts for a top that reveals you are, in fact, female. Throw in access to make up and Instagram filters, and these people will basically think you’ve become a supermodel.
Survival 2

Just some of the items you might need to survive the extended break… number of therapist not seen in shot (credit: The Division Field Guide)

  • Minimise your time ‘working from home’: When you have to be at home for an extended period of time after you’ve become used to living away, relationships with those nearest and dearest to you can become… strained, to put it politely. This has been impressed on me in magnificent fashion since I had to move back home with my parents for two months. It’s fair to say that people from my parent’s generation really do not grasp the concept of ‘working from home’. They think that if you are sat at the house’s only table, looking at a laptop, it somehow means, ‘come and talk to me, let’s discuss the minutiae of the traffic on the local roads, the price of milk and the daily habits of our cats’. This was made even more awkward by the fact that the only table in the house is in the kitchen. Do you know that parents need to drink tea on a half hourly basis? And that whilst the kettle is brewing they need to converse otherwise they will spontaneously combust? I do. I know these things now.

It’s always a good idea to have a safe space to run to when needed on the extended break (credit: Roots School)

  • If in doubt, remember the ‘Fridge Chat’: Along with the festive season come the questions about when you are going to give up your crazy humanitarian life and settle down into something, well, more normal. Or as I like to call it, ‘when are you going to do something that we understand (i.e. buying a house, getting married and popping out a few sprogs) instead of what you currently do, which I don’t understand and therefore don’t know how to talk to you about it.’ I thought that my closest family had made their peace with my lifestyle choices, but the extended break has a way of revealing truths, such as the suggestion from my mum that I move back home for a year to ‘settle down’, and do some office temping jobs if I needed some money. Wow. The ‘Fridge Chat’ is my reminder to myself that people generally stay within their own comfort zones. You might be telling what you think is a cool story of malaria or chronic giardia, but the person listening glazes over and when you’re finished, they say, ‘Hey, I got a new fridge!’ Oh. Well, that’s cool. The point is that most people will not understand what life is like for you as a humanitarian worker, the same way you will not 100% understand what life is like for them when you are not there and how your coming and going also impacts on them. Like Morrissey says, ‘How can anybody possibly think they know how I feel? The only one around here who is me, is me.’ To survive the extended break, you need to cultivate patience and accept that not everyone is going to want to listen to, or understand, tales of your life. Which kind of sucks, but it will mean less arguments if the next time someone tells you about their new fridge, you can tell them it’s a really nice fridge.


  • Do not open the door in your brain marked ‘deepest family-based insecurities’: Take it from someone who did, just DON’T DO IT. I know its tempting and you think it might be a doorway to healing old hurts, but trust me, it’s best just leaving it well alone. And if you really must, make sure you have enough money to cover the therapist you will absolutely need to help you shut it again before your next deployment.

Security is only skin deep?

As is my wont, I disappeared for a while. Sorry about that. A rather long and margarita filled holiday might have had something to do with it. But now that I’m back, I’m going to write something that might possibly be a bit controversial, and about a subject that provokes a lot of strong opinions.

I’m currently working in what humanitarians lovingly call an ‘insecure’ environment, which basically means, ‘place where people are trying to blow each other up and shoot each other on a day to day basis.’ Security incidents are rigorously monitored, which results in delightful half-hourly skype ‘pings’ as news of events unfold. Some field locations are ‘safer’ than others; I put safer in quotation marks since the location considered safest, and the location of the head office, is the one which receives the majority of security incidents, but hey, I’m not a security professional so maybe there’s some secret equation that I don’t know about. Some locations are more remote and closer to front lines between armed groups. I work in one such of these field offices, and there is one other such field office in the North.


Maybe we should just stick more signs on people and things to make them safer? [credit: ACT Alliance]

This week two of our team have been asked to change their locations to the Northern field office. Sad to see them go, I asked if they had been told why they needed to move; was it lack of staff? Was it particular programming that required their specific skills? No, it was because they are both African. When I asked why that was the deciding factor, both told me, seemingly unfazed, that the Northern field office is not considered safe enough for European (white) international staff to stay overnight. I’m not sure whether this is the right way to say this, but I felt offended on their behalf. I asked them if it bothered them that the organisation felt it needed to protect white staff more? Neither seemed to see it that way, with one almost seeing it as a badge of honour to be asked to work in a more ‘dangerous’ field environment.

I tried to figure out why this decision had been made. Both my colleagues explained to me that white international staff in the Northern regions are more of a target because a) they stand out more in a country where the population is predominantly black and b) because they’re assumed to be Americans and no one is a particular fan of the tangoed-scrotum that is Donald Trump (to be fair, most places around the world were not big USA fans even before Mr Cheeto graced the Oval Office). For the first reason, of course, yes, you stand out more if you are markedly different from the crowd around you. In some countries you can blend in more by adapting your behaviour or by adopting certain pieces of local clothing – I for one enjoyed rocking an abaya and hijab in Yemen, no one could see I was wearing gym shorts and a sports bra underneath, or that I hadn’t washed my hair in 4 days – but changing your skin colour is not something you can readily do. Unless you’re Michael Jackson. However, apparently other non-white and non-black international staff are ok stay in this same location. Wait, a light skinned Pakistani member of staff is better able to blend in effortlessly? I’m not convinced. Coupled with the fact that local people here can recognise if you come from their town or not, and even if you are from their state or not with a cursory glance, or at least the second you open your mouth, your skin colour is not necessarily going to help you blend in. Like a Scouser wandering in Manchester, people will know you are not part of their crew pretty quickly. As for the second reason, we hit a stumbling block with one of my colleagues who is black and American. Apparently she is also not allowed to work in that location despite meeting the ‘blending-in-skin-colour wise’ requirement, because when she speaks it will make it obvious she is an outsider. If that’s the case, the same is also true for all international African staff  (update to NGO security personnel: last time I checked there was no singular, pan-continental language called ‘African’….)

The second debunking of white staff being more at risk came when I did a bit of research to find that there have been no attacks specifically targeted at white international staff in this area. Nor have there been specific targeted attacks on NGOs for that matter. What there has been is plenty of opportunities for ‘wrong place wrong time.’ I’m almost certain that those types of incidents are not correlated to skin colour, except perhaps when you pack a place with staff of a particular skin colour and then the shit hits the fan…. When I raised this I was told, ‘ah, but there are more radicals there, people who would just stab you for no reason.’ Ok, well that makes me feel much happier that my friends are going to work there….?! The strange thing is that white international staff travel to this location on a regular basis – they just don’t stay overnight – so if random stabbings really were a big concern, maybe we shouldn’t send anyone at all?

I’m sad to say that this deployment has not been the only place I have been to where security rules vary by the colour of your skin or the nature of your passport. I’m not saying that the NGO world should disregard specific threats against individuals or against particular nationalities; all I hope for is a little more equality in the value we place on any of our colleagues’ lives. I don’t like being wrapped in cotton wool because I am white, because I am a woman or for any of the other bullshit reasons that get floated around, not because I long for danger or want to expose myself to risk, but because my non-white colleagues, my male colleagues, my non-international colleagues are being told that these risks are acceptable for them based on stereotypes and I don’t believe that’s fair. You could argue that humanitarian work would be paralysed if these types of decisions were not made, but is it not better to be honest about the risks to all staff and allow individual choice on what risks are and are not acceptable?  Either that or we could just send in Kendal Jenner with a Pepsi first and then we would all be safe.