prufrock

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table...

I was in a frenzy. It was only a few minutes after 8:00 yesterday morning and somehow my day had already launched into chaos mode. After a late night, I had risen early to finish several tasks before hopping on the boat for Pulo Aceh with some teammates, British colleagues, and media crew from the BBC. I got to the office and hurriedly flipped on my laptop let my outbox empty and watched with growing anxiety as the new messages tumbled in. One after another I that I needed to read or answer or consciously ignore. My mind raced through the next 24 hours, and the calls I had to make but wouldn’t be able to since we’d be out of cell range almost the entire trip. Time is critical between now and the 26th, and a missed media opportunity translates into lost demonstration to millions the visible evidence of their donations at work in Aceh. The pressure is at times nothing less than overwhelming, and I was definitely “having a moment.” Dark clouds poised in the sky outside evidenced an approaching downpour, and jolted my recollection of my rain jacket safe and dry at home and not packed dutifully in my bag. My house was only a few minutes away, but the opposite direction of the port. I had to get going, and the car was waiting. I stuffed my laptop into my backpack, slung my camera over my shoulder and stopped to give Sharmila, my housemate and officemate, a quick hug goodbye. When I turned to bolt out the door, she said, “Wait, I have something for you.” She placed a paperback copy of T.S. Eliot’s collected poems in my hands and smiled. “Read it on the boat.” And suddenly, my hurried, hectic day came to a screeching halt. Stillness and quiet overwhelmed the noise inside me. And it wasn’t until later, sitting on the deck of our open-air boat sailing across the Indian Ocean and reading “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” that I realized why just a little book had touched me so deeply. Only one day before, I had begun a writing a list of the things I needed sent from home. And the first item on the list? A book of poetry…

And indeed there will be time…
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet…
Time for you and time for me
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea…

The blog has been stagnant for awhile, I know, and the pictures and my phone calls nonexistent. And I’m sorry. I am existing in a state of running from one thing to another, feeling like I’m behind on absolutely everything, like I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing other than just trying to keep up. Amid it all, my colleagues are tremendous, and doing not only great work, but great interviews sharing about our projects here with journalists from all over the world. Am I ok? Yes. Am I enjoying what I’m doing? Most of the time, the people make it worth it. Am I eating? Sometimes more than others. Am I sleeping? Not nearly enough. The 26th is fast-approaching, and everything will surely calm down after that. Until then, I will be living and breathing work during both my waking and dreaming hours, and may very well not write in my blog or send another email until after that, so bare with me. Just pray for me. And know I miss you.

For I have known them all already, known them all –
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons…

Bill Clinton was here – was that last week? It all runs together. But our program coordinator and I basically had to do cartwheels through the UN offices to finagle us an invitation to join in on his site visits. And its official = southern charm works internationally, and we left with one invite, which our program coordinator utilized to the max. She’s charismatic and hilarious, and said she was one of only two women, as well as the only black woman, within a ten mile radius of the former president. Needless to say, she stood out from the crowd, and when Bill left, she asked him for a hug, and he responded, “Come here, girl!” and gave her a big ole squeeze.

That same day was the third round of the national polio campaign, which we contributed to significantly, so that’s where I went. Tragically, though, it rained incessantly all day, which is terrible for vaccination campaigns that usually have sites set up outdoors and scattered throughout neighborhoods to be accessible for residents. But even amid the downpour, we found some persevering parents traipsing through puddles to bring their kids for their third and final vaccination to prevent a disease which has reemerged in Indonesia for the first time in a decade. And I even got to actually give a vaccination; it was in a dropper, not a needle. And I felt at that moment like I would’ve come here just to be able to do that for that child...

I grow old .. I grow old
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled…

I escaped to Bali for Thanksgiving and wore flowers in my hair everyday. It was perhaps the most beautiful place I’ve ever been, and if I had to be away from loved ones during the holiday, that was indeed the perfect place to go! We stayed at an absolutely amazing resort for a tiny fraction of its normal cost, and flew ultra-cheaply since it’s an in-country destination. So, somehow, living the high life was incredibly inexpensive. The oceanside hotel and grounds were expansive, lush and draped in flowers and greenery. Beside the lagoon pool and under the palm trees beside the ocean were the perfect places to unwind, along with the spa, of course. Almost hourly, I would wondered, “Who am I?” I was truly out of my element and far, far from the rustic confines of Banda Aceh. Did I have turkey? Umm, no. But I did have what I’ve been craving since I left – Mexican food. Followed the next day by Italian and other delicious dishes, and daily breakfasts of omelets and *bacon* which I hadn’t realized I missed until I ate it. I got some sun, had fruity beverages and did some shopping and touring around. We went to the “monkey forest” where the monkeys lived beneath a canopy of tall, twisted trees and dined regularly on coconut pieces and bananas from the hands of tourists. Yes, I had no bananas, but my camera I did have. At one point I was crouched down shooting and suddenly felt something land on my neck – a big something at that – and then I realized there was a monkey on my head. He took out my hoop earring and hung out for a few minutes, then hopped down and scampered off when a loose coconut rolled by. It was hysterical, though slightly disconcerting.

The entire trip was amazing, though, and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my first holiday away. The only downside was seeing firsthand the lingering impact that terrorists have had on an island overflowing with natural beauty, culture and character. And meeting the beautiful Balinese people and learning of the financial hardship all are now living under after the bombings. The restaurants were all relatively empty, along with the shops, the clubs, and our resort. People are afraid to come to paradise – it’s so ironic. And all because of senseless, heartless violence. But despite it all, we realized after only a day or two, that we never met a Balinese person who wasn’t smiling. They may have been struggling in innumerable ways but were still happy, helpful and incredibly charming – especially the ones who put flowers in my hair. I can’t wait to go back.

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decision and revisions which a minute will reverse…

I can’t believe that it’s Christmastime. It’s so surreal when and if I let myself stop and think about it. I’m so far from overcrowded shopping malls and lights and decorations and loved ones and winter winds and snow. (It was 100 degrees in Pulo Aceh yesterday when I was hiking up to water sites. And oddly enough, it felt normal.) But there are no visible signs of Christmas here, just conversation among the expats asking each other what their plans are for the holidays. My signpost is the 26th – to slow down, to not be so busy and overwhelmed, and to remember with the people of Aceh the timeless tragedy that struck just a year ago and changed this region and its people forever. It makes me feel not so much like celebrating, so maybe it’s best that I’m away from the hoopla of tinsel and wrapping paper… as I'm feeling a growing appreciation for the intangible things this time of year represents - Love, and so many other blessings, both near and far away.

Would it have been worthwhile,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teascups, after the skirts that trail along the floor
And this, and so much more?
It is impossible to say just what I mean...

It’s almost midnight, and I must sleep. Another early morning tomorrow, and again the day after. It’s seven days a week now, and feels like 24 hours a day. I started typing this yesterday on the boat ride back from Pulo Aceh, sitting on the deck in the blazing sun. One day soon I’ll get some new pictures to Gene to post, but know that even though you can’t see me, I’m ok… my brow is furrowed a lot of the time according to friends here, but I’m still smiling.

In case I don't resurface in cyberspace again for awhile, enjoy instead reading an amazing article that recently appeared in the NY Times magazine about the tsunami and focuses largely on Banda Aceh. It's eloquently written and well-worth filling out the free online subscriber form. Yours truly also has another article online as well, about my first trip weeks ago to the island of Pulo Aceh.

Thanks for all the prayers, the love, the emails, the cards and the often enormous care packages. I appreciate it all so very much. Many of you have asked for my updated address, which I'll put below. Enjoy this time of year, the holiday parties and fun preparations, and have an eggnog latte in my honor. Keep an eye on the news in the coming weeks, too, and you may just see our team here, and even...

your bonnie jean
xoxo

Address:
bon
IFRC - Banda Aceh Office
American Red Cross
Jl. Fatahillah No. 8
Geuceu Iniem
Banda Aceh, 23239
Indonesia

Phone:
62 812 698 9387