Scribbles

I have done plenty of crazy stuff in my life, but a few adventures stand out.

Exactly 15 years ago, I was on what is called “the most remote place in the world”, an Antarctic island called “Peter I”. It was remote, even to Antarctic standards: three days sailing from the nearest South Pole base and 1,000 miles away from the nearest hospital. 1,000 miles of frozen sea and drifting ice bergs.

When we landed on Peter I, we were only the third team to ever put foot on the island. Imagine that: there had been more people and more landings on the moon than on that island.

15 years ago, to the date according to my diary, we had the roughest storm ever. I described it in this short story.

This was crazy stuff. The mere size and financial risk of the expedition, the logistical challenges, the nightmares in battling the snow blizzards hoping nobody would get hurt, and that (please God!) the tents would hold up…

But the real nutty stuff was that we had no clue how were were going to get back to the civilized world. A one way ticket to the most remote place on the planet, it seemed…

We had chartered a Russian research vessel to pick us up (see this short story), but they would only go as far as King George island, in the North of the Antarctic.

How we were going to get out of King George, was still a logistics puzzle we had not resolved when we landed on Peter I.

Desperate situations required drastic measures, so while still on the island, we chartered a C130 plane from the Uruguayan air force, through a company in Punta Arenas (Chili).
Over short wave radio, we made deals with the charter company to put day-trip tourists on the plane, splitting the charter fee with us. To cover the remaining costs, we had to sell all our tents and survival gear on King George island before the plane flew us to Southern Chili.

That was 15 years ago. Two months after I (eventually) got back to Belgium, I did my first mission as a humanitarian aid worker. And another series of crazy adventures started.

My three expeditions to the Antarctic and the Pacific are recorded in this eBook. It’s in Dutch, but try the translate widget in the side bar. Enjoy!

Almost to the day, thirteen years ago, I stepped off a plane in Uganda to start my first posting for a UN humanitarian organisation.

Since I had quit my ‘normal job’, three years before, went on an Antarctic expedition, and worked for the International Red Cross (IFRC) and the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) in several short term consultancies for two years. But this was my first full time job since three years.

I originally joined as a telecommunications specialist, but went through many different assignments with postings in Kosovo, Pakistan and Dubai before I ended up at the headquarters in Rome.

When I look back at the picture above (I certify I have not worn sandals with white socks for years!), a lot of memories come back. Mostly memories I am very fond of, and tried to reflect in my eBook.

Today, I was reminded of what it was like, thirteen years ago: I got two Emails from people describing how they have been trying to get a job in the humanitarian world. Both of them described their attempts, and up to a certain level showed doubt if ‘they would ever get in’.

Somewhere, today, it was easy to put understand how these people feel. I remember how I found the humanitarian world to be locked by a huge steel door, which was almost impossible to get through. I had the right qualifications, a proven track record and experience. I was motivated, and felt a ‘true humanitarian at heart’. And yet, I could not get a full time job. What was wrong with me?

I kept on sending my resume to a multitude of organisations. And resending them, and resending them. Until one day, someone replied showing at least some level of interest. After a couple of exchanges, I got interviewed – via telephone as I was on mission for the Red Cross in Ivory Coast -, and some time after that, it looked like the steel door was finally opening for me. Four months later, I stepped off that plane in Kampala.

I summarized my experience and tips for aspirant aid workers in what is now one of the most read posts on this blog. Looking at the volume of Emails I get asking for suggestions on opening that “steel door”, I know how many, today, are in the position I was thirteen years ago.

Apart from the hints listed in that post, the only thing I can say is “Don’t give up”. Keep on trying. It took me three years to get in, but thirteen years later, I have not regretted my choice to push that door. And bang it at times. So don’t give up.

More posts on The Road about aidworkers