The Inaugural Post

Well, here we are. The day has finally arrived.

I promised myself that the first time I was deployed, I would start a blog. It seemed like the best way to keep a record of my travels, something I'm keen to do for the following reasons, in order of importance:

1. My memory stinks;
2. My mother might worry less if I can keep her more or less up to date on what I'm doing; and
3. Few people get to experience what I'm about to -- for better or worse. Experiences like that should be documented before the proverbial dust settles over the memories, muting the colours and rounding out the sharp edges.

I can't promise I'll update the blog regularly, or even that it won't be swiftly relegated to my ever-accumulating pile of half-finished projects. But for right now, it seems like a good way to record my thoughts and to keep in touch with friends and relatives, an increasing number of which are living all over the globe.

OK, now that the preamble is out of the way...

After two years of waiting not-so-patiently for a chance to visit the field, I am being deployed to Chad. I'm really excited about it. The mission will start in N'Djamena (via Paris -- gotta love West African travel), where I will decompress and get a feel for the scene. From there, I will visit the east of Chad, along the border with Darfur, where more than a quarter of a million Sudanese refugees have fled to escape the predations of the Janjaweed. (More on that in subsequent posts, I'm sure.) I'll be there for a very short period -- a little over two weeks -- but most of it will be spent in the field, in a horrid little place called Goz Beida. In theory, I'm there to help set up a better coordination mechanism with some of our field partners.

The thing is, I'm nervous. Actually, I'm really nervous. It's not the safety element of it -- although that's an issue. A staff member of ours was shot, almost fatally, last spring in Goz Beida, and attacks on humanitarian workers are increasingly common. Odds are low, though, of my running into trouble, since I'll only be there for a couple of weeks.

No, what I'm really worried about is that I'll be useless. Utterly without purpose, like so much excess baggage. I haven't earned my aid worker wings yet, and I'm not sure what my "value-added" (to use the UN jargon) will be. What if I'm basically a disaster tourist, a vacuous Angelina Jolie in a real-life Beyond Borders, a Scarlett O'Hara of the Sahara?

To quote one venerable sage, I can't let that happen, I won't let that happen, and I can't let that happen! By God, if I have to learn how to juggle on the flight over, I will bring a new skill set to the team!