Back on the road... Part 2

....And waited eagerly was something I did, or rather, my waiting for more information turned from an enthusiastic "when do I start?" to a frustrated.."Ok..hello..is anybody out there?".... let me explain......
I’d finally managed to establish some sort of strategic structure of how I was going to tackle the brochures, pamphlets etc.., which in itself is a colossal feat during Ramadam, due to the fact that shops (including internet cafe's which is what I primarily use to work on my brochures) are only open from 6.30 pm to 3 am and that half the people that are supposed to be my contacts for the translations from English , Somali to Arabic just don’t seem to show up to work.
So, In a way I was ready to rock and roll. I began by interviewing the right people for the right info, and spending late nights at internet café’s trying to accomplish the job ahead, all in a race against time, as it was and always is “ Man versus power cuts” when it comes to using electric fuelled products in Sana’a. In other words I had some sort of flow going on, and when I was then called to see Mr Dhubai in regards to teaching classes, I felt I had to put everything on hold, because after all, he is the top dog, and if he felt there was something more useful for me to be doing then maybe his judgment was one I should rely on, even though I did so with regret. I don’t like letting people down, and to begin a project and not bringing to completion has repercussion effects not only to the party you promised you’d get the job done to, but also to yourself, as it feels as if you’ve begun to work on a puzzle only to realize your missing fundamental pieces, and cannot complete the picture that looked so beautiful on the front cover.
So the waiting game began. Two days passed and I began to wonder wheater I was going to receive the phone call or the laptop promised, so that I could begin to plan how I would structure the classes and also find out necessary information such as wheater the students had any basic computer literacy or understanding of the English language. Three days passed, and still no call, no e-mail, no messenger pigeon and no sign of any change in the horizon.
I may come across as impatient, but when you have a limited time span in a country and when the quality of people’s lives is at stake, time is of the essence , and the last thing I wanted to do was sit at home waiting for someone to call me when at least a couple of days earlier I had a job to do. I decided to break formality rules, got over my phobia of disturbing a very important person with a phone call from a mere volunteer and called Mr Dhubai. My first five phone calls were met by the notorious Arabic answering service informing me the person required is unavailable. I decided to ring the right hand man, but was met by the same answering service. The only option left was to go to the IDF Comm Service office where the right hand man , Mr amar, works .I hailed down the first taxi in sight, reached the centre and asked for Mr Amar’s whereabouts. Nobody seemed to have any clues as to his location or as to when he would arrive, so not really knowing what to do next, I headed back home. I managed to get both Amar’s and Mr Dhubai’s e-mail address from my cousin, so headed off to the net café just to send a quick message asking to be contacted when best convenient, mainly because I was really eager to know more, and also sent a text message to both just in case the e-mail did not reach the desired parties. Confident a reply was around the corner, I found my bed, reached for the book I bought on departure from Perth, and before long, drifted off into a deep sleep that saw me wake up the following morning, still fully clothed and with the book wedged between my cheek and the pillow..
My first thought when awake, even if still in dopey mode, was to reach for my phone, half excited at the prospect of a text message or a missed call, but my excitement was soon extinguished by the absence of either. This was my third day. I got dressed, went to the net café, checked for new messages but the outcome was ditto. I went through the same process again, call, text, e-mail, visits to the center, finger crossing and so on, but for the following four days all I got was the same silence and lack of response. By day six I began spiraling into a half depressed half frustrated self sympathetic mode that really was unproductive for either myself or those around me. A more analytical person would have found some logic around as to why I suddenly felt left in the lurch, and no doubt would have handled the situation with a more controlled, logical reaction. However life is a continuous teacher, and the lessons we learn are many and can sometimes last longer than we’d like them to. I felt I needed to react, because this …“poor me why am I not being contacted back” attitude was pathetic, and a voice deep down in my soul told me that the lesson to be learnt from this chapter was a valuable one, one that would define character and attitude for the times to come. Its funny, but when you volunteer to do some free work for people less fortunate than yourself, in a way “self” likes to put itself on some sort of pedestal and scream out the world…”Hey, I’m putting myself out here…I could be back in my comfortable surroundings thinking about me, so how dare you snob me when I volunteer to put my time aside to come give a hand?????...
Its sickening right, but to my understanding human nature is at its essence is selfish, and it is a conscious realization and decision one must make to look at the issues from the other side of the coin, the side that does not include you, your comfort, or your needs, but it is that very side that also holds the key to a greater understanding of life, and the depth of its core. All I ever need to do is sit down with one of my Somali friends and listen to their story, the hardships they endured, the journey they’ve walked, to realize that my problems are sooooo little and insignificant in comparison, and to awaken to the fact that in order to see change, I must be willing to change myself...
TO BE CONTINUED….