Bill Moyers' Journal on humanitarian work in the Democratic Republic of Congo aired on PBS April 4, 2008. It is now here on the PBS website.
They filmed us in Shamwana back in November, during the cholera outbreak in Kishale, amongst all other things. Very complete reportage. I'm featured at the beginning of part 2 (at about 25 minutes into the episode).
Showing posts with label MSF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MSF. Show all posts
Monday, April 7, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
Pour Damien Lehalle
Official MSF press release about the tragedy: three MSF-Holland workers killed in bombing in Kismayo, Somalia, Jan 28 2008
* * *
Le monde humanitaire et plus particulièrement, les travailleurs MSF, sommes tous sous le choc face aux décès de nos collègues expatriés Damien Lehalle, logisticien de France et Victor Okumu, chirurgien du Kenya, lors d'une attaque contre une Land Cruiser de MSF-Hollande à Kismayo, en Somalie, lundi dernier le 28 janvier 2008.
Damien était le logisticien de Dubié en août 2007 lorsque je suis arrivée au Katanga. Je l'ai rencontré brièvement lors de la réunion médicale d'août qui s'est tenue à Dubié. C'était un mec joyeux de vingt-sept ans, souriant, au sens de l'humour clownesque, et qu'on n'oubliait pas facilement. Il se promenait avec ses pantalons en pagne et un grand sourire brillant. Tout le monde de la mission l'adorait. Lors de notre réunion médicale, il y avait trop de visiteurs à Dubié, et donc il avait prêté sa chambre. Il dormait paisiblement à la belle étoile sous un moustiquaire sur le terrain de volleyball. Dubié a été sa première mission pendant quatorze mois et il était au premier mois de sa deuxième mission à Kismayo lorqu'il a été tué. Lorsqu'il a quitté Dubié en octobre, il a dit ses adieux à toute la mission sur la radio HF; comme j'étais moi-même en route pour Kishale dans une Land Cruiser, je lui ai souhaité un bon voyage et une bonne continuation. A Dubié, on l'aimait tellement que tout le village est venu à sa fête d'au-revoir (arrosée de fruits de la passion, m'a-t-on relaté), et le staff national l'a transporté physiquement jusqu'à l'avion le jour de son départ. Sa vie a été brutalement interrompue; ses parents ont perdu leur fils unique. Nous sommes tous en deuil.
De tels évènements nous rappellent que malgré toutes les meilleures intentions du monde, la violence est constante et imprévisible dans le monde humanitaire. Tout travailleur MSF est bien mis au courant des risques possibles d'une mission. Mais nos personnalités fortes nous font croire à une certaine invincibilité. On tente de gérer le risque en choisissant un pays moins armé qu'un autre, mais le chaos et le danger sont toujours possibles là où MSF choisit de travailler. Que l'âme de Damien repose en paix. Nous, qui avons croisé son chemin, avons été chanceux. Nous accompagnons tous en pensée sa famille et ses proches durant ces moments difficiles.
* * *
The humanitarian world in general and MSF workers in particular are devastated by the deaths of Damien Lehalle, French logistician and Victor Okumu, Kenyan surgeon, in a MSF-Holland Land Cruiser that was bombed in Kismayo, Somalia last week.
Damien was the logistician in Dubie in August when I arrived, and I met him shortly during the Katanga medical meeting. He was a fun-loving, energetic, popular, tongue-in-cheek, joyful 27 year-old guy, and was well loved by everybody in the mission. I remember his twinkling eyes and beautiful smile. When we held our medical meeting in Dubie, we were out of tukuls for all the visitors, so he had parked a bedcamp and a mosquito net under a tree next to the volleyball court and slept there happily under the stars. His first mission had been Dubie, for fourteen months, and he had been for only one month in Kismayo for his second mission when he was killed. When he left Dubie in October, he said his goodbyes on the radio to everybody in the Katanga mission; as I was en route for Kishale in one of the Land Cruisers, I wished him good luck and a good continuation. He was so loved that all of Dubie attended his goodbye party and the national staff carried him to the plane on his day of departure. His young life has been cut short; his parents in France have lost their only son. We are in mourning.
It is a harsh reminder that no matter how good our intentions are, it's a hard world out here. MSF workers are fully warned of the risks of leaving on mission, but I believe that we somewhat sin in invincibility in a way or another. Of course, risk can be to some extent managed by picking a less gun-prone country vs. another, but the risk of chaos is present in most places that MSF chooses to work. May Damien's soul rest in peace. Those of us who have had the luck of crossing his path were all blessed to have known him. May his family and loved ones bide well during this hard time.
* * *
Le monde humanitaire et plus particulièrement, les travailleurs MSF, sommes tous sous le choc face aux décès de nos collègues expatriés Damien Lehalle, logisticien de France et Victor Okumu, chirurgien du Kenya, lors d'une attaque contre une Land Cruiser de MSF-Hollande à Kismayo, en Somalie, lundi dernier le 28 janvier 2008.
Damien était le logisticien de Dubié en août 2007 lorsque je suis arrivée au Katanga. Je l'ai rencontré brièvement lors de la réunion médicale d'août qui s'est tenue à Dubié. C'était un mec joyeux de vingt-sept ans, souriant, au sens de l'humour clownesque, et qu'on n'oubliait pas facilement. Il se promenait avec ses pantalons en pagne et un grand sourire brillant. Tout le monde de la mission l'adorait. Lors de notre réunion médicale, il y avait trop de visiteurs à Dubié, et donc il avait prêté sa chambre. Il dormait paisiblement à la belle étoile sous un moustiquaire sur le terrain de volleyball. Dubié a été sa première mission pendant quatorze mois et il était au premier mois de sa deuxième mission à Kismayo lorqu'il a été tué. Lorsqu'il a quitté Dubié en octobre, il a dit ses adieux à toute la mission sur la radio HF; comme j'étais moi-même en route pour Kishale dans une Land Cruiser, je lui ai souhaité un bon voyage et une bonne continuation. A Dubié, on l'aimait tellement que tout le village est venu à sa fête d'au-revoir (arrosée de fruits de la passion, m'a-t-on relaté), et le staff national l'a transporté physiquement jusqu'à l'avion le jour de son départ. Sa vie a été brutalement interrompue; ses parents ont perdu leur fils unique. Nous sommes tous en deuil.
De tels évènements nous rappellent que malgré toutes les meilleures intentions du monde, la violence est constante et imprévisible dans le monde humanitaire. Tout travailleur MSF est bien mis au courant des risques possibles d'une mission. Mais nos personnalités fortes nous font croire à une certaine invincibilité. On tente de gérer le risque en choisissant un pays moins armé qu'un autre, mais le chaos et le danger sont toujours possibles là où MSF choisit de travailler. Que l'âme de Damien repose en paix. Nous, qui avons croisé son chemin, avons été chanceux. Nous accompagnons tous en pensée sa famille et ses proches durant ces moments difficiles.
* * *
The humanitarian world in general and MSF workers in particular are devastated by the deaths of Damien Lehalle, French logistician and Victor Okumu, Kenyan surgeon, in a MSF-Holland Land Cruiser that was bombed in Kismayo, Somalia last week.
Damien was the logistician in Dubie in August when I arrived, and I met him shortly during the Katanga medical meeting. He was a fun-loving, energetic, popular, tongue-in-cheek, joyful 27 year-old guy, and was well loved by everybody in the mission. I remember his twinkling eyes and beautiful smile. When we held our medical meeting in Dubie, we were out of tukuls for all the visitors, so he had parked a bedcamp and a mosquito net under a tree next to the volleyball court and slept there happily under the stars. His first mission had been Dubie, for fourteen months, and he had been for only one month in Kismayo for his second mission when he was killed. When he left Dubie in October, he said his goodbyes on the radio to everybody in the Katanga mission; as I was en route for Kishale in one of the Land Cruisers, I wished him good luck and a good continuation. He was so loved that all of Dubie attended his goodbye party and the national staff carried him to the plane on his day of departure. His young life has been cut short; his parents in France have lost their only son. We are in mourning.
It is a harsh reminder that no matter how good our intentions are, it's a hard world out here. MSF workers are fully warned of the risks of leaving on mission, but I believe that we somewhat sin in invincibility in a way or another. Of course, risk can be to some extent managed by picking a less gun-prone country vs. another, but the risk of chaos is present in most places that MSF chooses to work. May Damien's soul rest in peace. Those of us who have had the luck of crossing his path were all blessed to have known him. May his family and loved ones bide well during this hard time.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Holland in August
Finally, I've left home for the year! After the prolongation of the departure, I couldn't take it anymore! Stressed for packing, slept about 3 hours that night for many reasons, packed fully completely 24 hours before going to the airplane (that's very unusual for me!), and tired of goodbyes because of the constant emotional tug. Thanks to all of you who had to endure my weirdo moods and my anxiety and moaning and displaced obsessing...
The PPD (Preparation for Primary Departure course) is a well-structured week with lectures and group simulations intended for MSF workers who will leave on first mission. Half the group is from Germany, we are three Canadians and one American, and there are scattered other Europeans. I hit it off very quickly with L, an emerg nurse from Vancouver, and an ex-Montrealer. We are similar in our bluntness and sharpness, peacekeeping abilities, Canadian niceness and constant irreverent jokes; and we also do well in the no-bullshit bottom-line common-sense department, both coming from the emerg. She is New Wave Punk (not Gothic! Sorry!), has nice big tattoos, is totally off the beaten track, wears only black, and we get along great. She was maybe offered a mission in Papua New Guinea having to do with a village that boasts 80% domestic/sexual/child abuse, oh joy! and is wondering if she could work with constant simmering anger all the time. I hope to convince her to come work with me in DRC Katanga instead: Liz, come work with me in Shamwana in two months, when the other nurse leaves!!! The other Canadian is also a very nice guy. He used to be a Harley-Davidson sales manager and has sold everything to eventually go on permanent retirement on the beaches of Viet Nam on the basis that one day in the next decade, all hell will break loose in the developed world. Definitely an interesting life experience. The other medics on PPD are a few older surgeons with prior NGO experience and a few medical interns from the UK and Germany. The group is quite varied. I am also incredibly lucky to have met other people who will be flying down to DRC Katanga with me. There is A, my homolog for Dubie the next village project over, an extremely nice Ivoirian girl my age whose husband is the doctor in Kilwa, the third project of the mission. And there is M, an American midwife who will be working in Dubie as well. I am just incredibly happy to have found two people who will be briefed with me in Amsterdam next week and will travel down to Lubumbashi with me. It's so nice not to feel so terribly alone jumping into this!
The knowledge that we acquire here is various. Security protocols, MSF spirit and mandate, group work and country simulations, cross culture work (within the team) and the orienteering game, an exercise in frustration designed to test our team spirit. There was a strange surgeon from Ukraine with a clear personality disorder who was kicked out of the course today. As we had had him on our team on the orienteering night and managed his rogueness quite well, I suppose now that my teamworking abilities are doing just fine. We learn all the MSF jargon: PC logco finco sitrep security fieldlog MoH nationalstaff HOM capital etc etc... It's another language altogether, and I haven't learned the radio language yet.
Socially, unlike what I'd heard from Rags and SF (ex-MSFer friends from home), it ain't much of a romance scene out here. After all, the chances are slim that we all see each other again afterwards. The female bonding happened so naturally that one of the facilitators came to us and said half-jokingly that the XY part of the PPD were sorry that we weren't mingling more with them :). It doesn't help that the German sense of humor seems to be beyond me (...). There is quite a bit of Heineken flowing about, we take bike rides to the beach (being in Holland after all!), we share our building performance anxiety, and we are happy about the people who hear about their mission being confirmed during the course. The minority of us were matched to a mission already before coming, a few are hearing confirmation while here, and the majority are going home and waiting for the e-mail or phone call dispatching them overseas. I am glad that all is going on plan for me, that I am leaving directly from here to the jungle of DRC Katanga, and that the busy-ness before the departure kept me not thinking too much. I am realizing that I do not deal very well with the unknown after all :)
Pictures of people at the PPD here.
The PPD (Preparation for Primary Departure course) is a well-structured week with lectures and group simulations intended for MSF workers who will leave on first mission. Half the group is from Germany, we are three Canadians and one American, and there are scattered other Europeans. I hit it off very quickly with L, an emerg nurse from Vancouver, and an ex-Montrealer. We are similar in our bluntness and sharpness, peacekeeping abilities, Canadian niceness and constant irreverent jokes; and we also do well in the no-bullshit bottom-line common-sense department, both coming from the emerg. She is New Wave Punk (not Gothic! Sorry!), has nice big tattoos, is totally off the beaten track, wears only black, and we get along great. She was maybe offered a mission in Papua New Guinea having to do with a village that boasts 80% domestic/sexual/child abuse, oh joy! and is wondering if she could work with constant simmering anger all the time. I hope to convince her to come work with me in DRC Katanga instead: Liz, come work with me in Shamwana in two months, when the other nurse leaves!!! The other Canadian is also a very nice guy. He used to be a Harley-Davidson sales manager and has sold everything to eventually go on permanent retirement on the beaches of Viet Nam on the basis that one day in the next decade, all hell will break loose in the developed world. Definitely an interesting life experience. The other medics on PPD are a few older surgeons with prior NGO experience and a few medical interns from the UK and Germany. The group is quite varied. I am also incredibly lucky to have met other people who will be flying down to DRC Katanga with me. There is A, my homolog for Dubie the next village project over, an extremely nice Ivoirian girl my age whose husband is the doctor in Kilwa, the third project of the mission. And there is M, an American midwife who will be working in Dubie as well. I am just incredibly happy to have found two people who will be briefed with me in Amsterdam next week and will travel down to Lubumbashi with me. It's so nice not to feel so terribly alone jumping into this!
The knowledge that we acquire here is various. Security protocols, MSF spirit and mandate, group work and country simulations, cross culture work (within the team) and the orienteering game, an exercise in frustration designed to test our team spirit. There was a strange surgeon from Ukraine with a clear personality disorder who was kicked out of the course today. As we had had him on our team on the orienteering night and managed his rogueness quite well, I suppose now that my teamworking abilities are doing just fine. We learn all the MSF jargon: PC logco finco sitrep security fieldlog MoH nationalstaff HOM capital etc etc... It's another language altogether, and I haven't learned the radio language yet.
Socially, unlike what I'd heard from Rags and SF (ex-MSFer friends from home), it ain't much of a romance scene out here. After all, the chances are slim that we all see each other again afterwards. The female bonding happened so naturally that one of the facilitators came to us and said half-jokingly that the XY part of the PPD were sorry that we weren't mingling more with them :). It doesn't help that the German sense of humor seems to be beyond me (...). There is quite a bit of Heineken flowing about, we take bike rides to the beach (being in Holland after all!), we share our building performance anxiety, and we are happy about the people who hear about their mission being confirmed during the course. The minority of us were matched to a mission already before coming, a few are hearing confirmation while here, and the majority are going home and waiting for the e-mail or phone call dispatching them overseas. I am glad that all is going on plan for me, that I am leaving directly from here to the jungle of DRC Katanga, and that the busy-ness before the departure kept me not thinking too much. I am realizing that I do not deal very well with the unknown after all :)
Pictures of people at the PPD here.
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