Double Virtual Life of Kacper

Kacper is back! - Post 47

2009-11-15T16:44:00.004+01:00

Fiscal federalism, public debt created by local governments, advantages and disadvantages of decentralisation… Kacper closed his SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies – University of London) course book with a slight headache. ‘Why am I bothered with reading this, if the world around me is just going crazy?’ he thought to himself as he looked at the front page of the News International – one of Pakistan’s dailies. The big, screaming title announcing that the 4^th blast (this week) has just hit Peshawar again distressed him a little. ‘This is madness…how many more people needs to die so this stops?’ he asked rethoritically. As he started reading about civilian casualties, he started feeling uneasy. He realised that he actually started treating the news of new explosions and new casualties, like some kind of daily normality, something that occurred daily – and hence was not a big deal! He would read about yet another horrific carnage, get distressed, and then sip his coffee, before engaging with his daily business… ‘You are horrible’ his consciousness was screaming at him. ‘There are innocent people being blown off, and all what you can do is get slightly distressed’ his mind would not let him rest. ‘Do something Kacper, you can’t just sit, and do nothing’ – it went on and on… ‘But what can I do…’ he tried to figure out. The emptiness in his mind was unbearable. He felt he could do nothing… absolutely nothing that seemed to be meaningful that would make at least a bit of difference, the difference that he felt was really needed.

He desperately needed TO DO SOMETHING… Yes, it was egoistic, he needed to do something for his own peace of mind, he needed to fix his own consciousness, his guilt that would not let him sleep… ‘Double Virtual Life of Kacper’ – he thought at that very moment. ‘I need to write something in my partly forgotten blog, and post how I feel online…’ he decided. Kacper thought that sharing his frustrations in the Internet, with people who might or might not read what he wanted to say was going to help him. He wanted the world to know what was happening in Pakistan, and that things in Pakistan were not fair to so many people. He wanted to force people feel guilty a bit in their own cosy homes, their peaceful countries, and spare a moment thinking of those who are scarred and defenceless in Peshawar, Waziristan, or anywhere in the world for that matter. ‘This is not going to change anything though’ – another grim thought started haunting Kacper. ‘Everyone knows what is going on here, but still nothing has been done to prevent it from happening…’ – he went on. ‘People need to know though, people need to be reminded over and over…’ – he tried to convince himself that writing how he felt, and why he felt helpless was somehow important…

Kacper felt that he needed to stop all his guilt feeling. It took lots of his energy away – energy that he needed for his busy week, which was ahead of him.

Twelve militias were killed in South Waziristan today, in the attempt of cleaning the area from the militias… announced the presented of the Dawn news channel, as Kacper started planning his next day at work. ‘No, I am not going to think about it now. I have just finished my entry in the blog, and that will need to be enough…’ he concluded.

P.S. Kacper is reading the Internet news about the swine flu in Europe.

Hong Kong - Post 46

2009-08-02T10:12:00.003+02:00

Kacper decided against taking his strong painkillers this time. ‘It is not yet that bad…’ he thought. ‘I can still manage a bit more’ he tried to convince himself. Last two weeks were difficult. His body keeps on aching, and Kacper runs out of ideas of what he should be doing to manage his physical suffering. He hates going through these moments. Physical pains, when present for long time, wear his morale off. On one side, he is simply worried about his general well being, and he is simply scared of his own future, or more specifically, about progress of his disease, and then he also feels guilty. He feels guilty about needing to take some extra time off to rest. It annoys him, especially here, where things are very busy… So much work needs to be done, and he – Kacper, instead of spending time towards meeting challenges of their humanitarian work, he slows down, and takes extra time to rest – so he prevents total exhaustion of his body. ‘I am flown here from across the world to provide humanitarian assistance to the others, and here we go: I seem to need humanitarian assistance myself…’ – the realisation of this simple truth makes his conscious suffer.

Although, the thoughts of his own physical limitations make him very uncomfortable, he is not brave enough to take steps and change his career path. He realises that there are many professional options that are less physically demanding and he could consider doing. Trouble is that he can’t see himself doing anything else (or hardly anything) but being involved in humanitarian work. He enjoys so many aspects of his present life and work so much that he can’t possibly imagine finding any work that would make him feel as fulfilled and happy, as he is now. These contradictions of his life make Kacper feel that he is about to running into some kind of personal catastrophe… He might be able to carry on doing what he is doing now for some more years, but sooner or later he will abruptly be confronted with a dead end street, with no choice but quitting his present lifestyle. Obviously, he would prefer not to be left without choices, and knows that he should start doing something about his future already now… but somehow, at the moment, he is not up to the job – he is too tired. All what he can think of now is that he is a failure, unable to manage himself. At least, his more reasonable part pushed him to arrange for his overdue holiday. He has just booked his air ticket to go to Hong Kong, where he is planning to relax and rest for 10 days at the end of August…

He really wishes that his Hong Kong trip brings some peace of mind, and perhaps makes him more prepared to take some of scary decisions that he needs to take… He will surely sleep a lot, and will indulge himself with his favourite activity, which is getting lost in a big, unknown city, where one can just wander, stop and observe people’s daily lives… He hopes that both Hong Kong and Macau – which he also is planning visiting – will offer many such opportunities.

‘It is time to stop feeling self-pity for today’ – decided Kacper. ‘Now that I am going to Hong Kong, and I will have a chance to rest there… all what I have to do is getting as much work done as possible, before I travel’ he wanted to appear practical, and started listing things, he needs to get involved with in next two weeks:

- Finish reading 3 units of his SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies of the University of London), and start preparing for examinations in October

- Prepare for signing contracts for project delivery with local partners in Swat, Buner DIK and Tank districts

- Finalise contract signing for funding with ECHO (European Commission’s Humanitarian Office), Canadian Government, and other donors

- Recruit all new livelihoods and water sanitation personnel for new project areas

- Finalise preparing financial analysis for expenditures of implemented projects

- Preparing for visit of the International Director from the headquarters

- Arranging for a field visit in Buner, and checking the progress of activities…

He looked at his list, and felt better. His tasks will surely keep him very busy, and within no time, he will be packing for his exotic trip – where he will be able to rest and sort himself out. ‘No need to feel miserable – just need to push myself a bit more, and soon, I will be resting and getting better again’ he thought more optimistically.

Kacper sat in front of his SOAS book, and started going through his second unit of the human resources management course – there was no time to waste after all…

PS. Kacper is moved by reading stories of ‘Warsaw Uprising’ veterans that he found on the Internet.

Silent heroines - Post 45

2009-07-12T09:13:00.002+02:00

My Feudal Lord by Tehmina Durrani certainly made Kacper think; more so, it challenged his views on situation of women in certain parts of the world. Obviously, before reading the book, he had had a good understanding that women are frequently underprivileged, neglected, not empowered, and subject to abuse, but this is My Feudal Lord that forced Kacper to imagine how lives of such women really looked like.

While reading the novel, Kacper got really upset quite a few times. ‘Men are bustards…’ – angrily and uncontrollably crossed his mind regularly throughout each and every chapter. Realising that the question of abuse and inequality of women is a very difficult and sensitive issue to be tackled, as it involved cultural, social and often religious considerations, he also felt that men consciously used the cultural factors to be their excuse of mistreating their wives, daughters, even mothers and other women far too often.

Kacper thought of women that he knew that suffered profoundly, just because of their gender. He didn’t need to look far. His own mother, both grandmothers, aunts, and some of his cousins did experience physical abuse from those, who they loved the most – their husbands, boyfriends, partners, but also fathers…It is true that while most of these courageous women, whom were in Kacper’s family eventually managed to stand up for their rights and take control of their rights, their fights were always dramatic, and often heartbreaking for themselves, and for other people that they cared for. ‘Now, if gender based violence is still a reality in Poland – where people are reasonably educated, and where abused women have to their disposal fairly many official, and less official tools, systems and resources to reinforce fair treatment and personal protection … how difficult it must be in places, where much less of similar systems are in place…?’ – the question kept on bothering Kacper’s consciousness.

‘Kacper, are you hungry? Shall we eat lunch together’ Ghazala encouraged him to go down to their office canteen. Ghazala was an extremely beautiful middle-aged woman, whose origins were of Lahore – the capital of Pakistan’s Punjab. The way she dressed, talked, and behaved showed that she must have come from a very affluent and wealthy family. Kacper soon learnt that Ghazala was very well travelled. She spent her childhood in various countries in Africa and Europe, where she lived with her family, whose head – Ghazala’s father worked for the diplomatic service of Pakistan. She was educated in some best schools, one could ever dream of, with her master’s degree obtained from the Harvard University in the USA.

‘I love my chicken kebabs here…the food is so well prepared and tasty’ Kacper started the conversation. ‘You should also try our chicken biryani’ Ghazala kindly suggested. ‘How is your week so far?’ she then asked. ‘I can see that you are very busy. It is difficult to speak to you, you are always running around doing something’ noticed Ghazala. ‘Things are fine, really. I am a bit tired, but things are actually going well’ assured Kacper. ‘Besides work, I have just finished reading My Feudal Lord…Do you know, which book I am referring to?’ asked Kacper, hoping that Ghazala would be happy to tell him what she thought of the novel. ‘Of course, I know it Kacper, many women in Pakistan know this book…’ she looked into Kacper’s eyes. ‘And what did you think of it?’ she asked. ‘Well, I loved it, but also found it disturbing, very disturbing’ he answered. Ghazala smiled… ‘It might be disturbing, but for us here, it is just a fair description of what ladies in this country go through every day, what our society finally needs to confront and deal with’ she noticed. ‘You will be interested to know that I know the author of the book personally’ she added with a smile. ‘Wow… how come?’ Kacper was impressed and curious. ‘I will tell you some other time…’ Ghazala’s face suddenly saddened. She remained silent for a while. Kacper didn’t want to rush the conversation, so he concentrated his attention on his plate. ‘You know by now that I come from a very privileged background in so many ways… I travelled, received impeccable education, had money: more that I could ever spend…’ she started. Ghazala smiled at Kacper and went on talking, talking about her ordeal that she and her family went through…

When Ghazala went to the United States, her father already decided that right at the end of her course, she would return to Pakistan and get married. Her husband-to-be was 45 – over twenty years older than Ghazala. He was a very wealthy landowner, who seemed to rule half of Punjab. He also possessed properties in the United Kingdom, United States, Canada, and Australia. Ghazala’s father couldn’t imagine a better candidate to marry her daughter. Hence the marriage deal was struck quickly. The only problem was that Ghazala was not at all aware of what fate her father was preparing for her. Needless to say, she had never heard of, not to mention meeting her future husband before they married. When she finally graduated, and was a proud holder of her degree, the news of her marriage was revealed to her. ‘But dad, I can’t marry now…You educated me, you let me experience the world, you taught me to be independent, and now you want me to get married to some man that I have never heard of… someone who is 25 years older than I am…? Never!’ she finally exclaimed. It was the first time in her life that she was hit… ‘Kacper, I was beaten many times in my life later, my husband bet me regularly – it was all horrible, but this first slap in my face, the slap from my own father, whom I had trusted and loved so much hurt me the most. It fact, it still hurts me’ she added with a profound sadness.

Ghazala was forced to marry, but she didn’t turn out to be a wife that is easy to have powers over. ‘Right at start, I told my husband that I would never love him, and that I wanted to have as little to do with him as possible…’ she explained. Her resilience was punished. She was regularly beaten and abused. The husband’s family tried to keep her locked in their mansion, limit her movements, reduce contacts with friends, and her own family. Ghazala became a prisoner, a prisoner of her own husband. Soon, she gave birth to their first son. ‘He was my sunshine, he made my suffering bearable’ she emotionally admitted to Kacper. When she looked after her newborn, she decided that her ordeal needs to finish. Ghazala knew that she needed to do something that could make her happy. ‘I came to a point when I only saw two options: either doing something to liberate myself, or I was going to die. I was ready to commit a suicide – this is how desperate I was!’ – Kacper noticed that her eyes became wet.

‘Kacper, you can’t imagine what was happening, when I filed for a divorce. I was abused even more, my father threatened me, he would cut all ties with me and he wouldn’t allow me see my own mother’ she recalled. Ghazala was lucky though to have some good university friends, who lived in England. They offered her financial support, but also in case she needed it, shelter in their house in London’s Ealing. ‘What I was really disappointed about, was that even if Pakistan officially doesn’t accept the abuse of women, and there are laws protecting women… they really mean nothing… These laws are made by men, and executed by men’ she added bitterly. She then explained how she lost rights to custody of her son; she was accused to be a horrible and incapable mother. She was stripped from all possessions, and left literally penniless within days. ‘It took me years to stand back on my feet again…I was in London for over a year, doing nothing… just trying to heal…’ – she said.

Her friends in London became her new family. She soon was granted an asylum in the UK, and managed to start working. She became a social worker, and provided counselling services to troubled youngsters in London area. Then, she met a handsome Lebanese guy, whom she fell in love with, and to whom she soon got married. ‘I was happy for a first time after so many years’ she recalled. ‘All what I needed was my first son, and my mother… I didn’t miss my father yet, and I certainly didn’t miss my first husband’ – she added. At that point, Ghazala learnt of her father’s death. He died of a heart attack, on his visit to Pakistan. She explained to Kacper that it was a very strange experience. ‘I suffered so much because of him, but when I learnt that he was dead, I felt like a part of me died too. I somehow loved him, and felt so sorry not to be able even to attend his funeral’ – noticed Ghazala. However, the death of the father made it possible for Ghazala and her mother to reunite again. The young couple with Ghazala’s mother settled in Bristol, in western England. They were also blessed with their son, Ghazala’s second baby. Then, she learnt of a job opportunity in Pakistan. She was recruited as a gender consultant in one of the British charities working in South Asia. Ghazala and her family decided to move to Islamabad. ‘This time, I returned to Pakistan as a free and independent woman… and such I have remained until today’ she finished her story proudly.

‘And one more thing Kacper… Just think of it, if life treated me in such a cruel way… imagine how difficult it is for all those women – millions of them, in this country, who come from more traditional families, without means, without education, and awareness of their own rights…This is why our work is so important…this is why your work is important too Kacper… We need to do all in our power to help these silent heroines…at least a bit… knowing that every little helps!’

It was time to finish their lunch break. Kacper went upstairs to his office. His mind was working hard thinking of Ghazala’s pleas of working hard for women in Pakistan. ‘What could I do? How can I contribute at least a little, to make lives of women at least a bit easier?’ Kacper didn’t know the answers, but was sure he would not let it go… he would try best he could!

PS. Kacper is watching Obama’s visit to Ghana.

Paternal love - Post 44

2009-07-02T18:15:00.005+02:00

‘Daddy, my back is so sore… please hold my hand, and do not go anywhere!’ – demanded little Mo. ‘I am staying here, right here with you son’ answered Faisal fondly and smiled. They conversed in their native Farsi, and although Mo’s nurse couldn’t understand a word of the son – father interaction, she was touched seeing the paternal love that Faisal showed to his son. She approached Mo’s bed, adjusted tubes of his drip and handed him a teddy bear. ‘This is a little friend for you, and he will guard at night, when you sleep’ she said in English. Faisal thanked the nurse and explained to his son what the nurse had just tried to tell him. Mo’s eyes lightened up. He took his soft toy into his arms, looked at the woman and timidly murmured: ‘tashakor’ (thank you). ‘You are very welcome dear’ answered the nurse without waiting for his father’s interpretation. She left the room, and Faisal was again alone with his son. Mo was becoming tired, but the medicines made him feel less pain. He was falling asleep.

Faisal was exhausted but moved, and very happy. A while earlier, he spoke to the doctors, and they told him that the operation of his son had been very successful. It was likely that Mo would suffer from some nuisances throughout his life – he might not be able to regain control of his physiological needs, and he will always need to use nappies, but he will live, and he will be able to walk! Faisal looked out of the window, looked at busy streets of New York, and for a first time, he properly realised that he actually was thousands of kilometres away from home, away from his wife, and other children. They arrived from Afghanistan to the United States just mere two weeks earlier. They came here on invitation of one of the USA’s medical organisations, which helps running a paediatric ward at the Indira Ghandi Hospital of Kabul. It was where a group of American doctors met Mo and Faisal, and this is where, after initial examinations; they offered Mo’s family that he could be taken to New York for a highly specialised spine surgery.

‘You can’t even imagine, what I was going through with Mo, before we finally went to the USA’ – Faisal continued telling his story at Kacper’s hotel room in Islamabad. ‘It was all so strange… before Mo was born; I nearly hadn’t noticed that I was a father to four kids. They were all healthy, and my wife looked after them most of the time, while I was busy supporting the family financially…’ Faisal stopped and sipped his tea. He then explained that one day Mo started crying and he would simply not stop. At first, the parents thought that perhaps, their baby’s teeth started growing, but then realised that their son was simply unwell. They visited many doctors all over Kabul, however no one could really find out what the reason of constant crying was. Mo in the meanwhile was getting worse. Soon, the horrified parents realised that their little one was getting paralysed.

Faisal and his son eventually ended up in one the capital’s hospitals, whose doctors mainly came from France. After initial investigations, they advised that Faisal should arrange for his son to undergo more advanced check-ups in Pakistan’s capital – Islamabad. Luckily, compared with many other Afghans, Faisal was relatively well off, and he actually had means to travel to the neighbouring country, and pay for necessary medical procedures. Faisal and Mo soon set off to Islamabad, where they stayed with Faisal’s Pakistani friend’s family, who looked after them, and helped them enormously by driving them around the city. The investigations were completed in just a few days, and Faisal and Mo were on their way back to Kabul soon after.

Faisal handed a big brown envelope with results of his son’s investigations to the doctor. After a while of studying, the doctor bluntly announced to Faisal that Mo’s spine was attacked by a tumour that grew on it. The tumour pressed some of his son nerves, which in turn started causing Mo’s lower parts of his body being paralysed. ‘At that point, I passed out’ recalled Faisal. ‘Kacper, this was like the end of the world to me… my hope vanished… How on earth was I to help my son? How could I help him in Afghanistan?’ – Faisal was still disturbed, when he talked of his experience.

The doctors advised that Faisal returned to Pakistan immediately, and that Mo’s tumour is removed at Islamabad’s hospital. ‘Unfortunately, we do not have facilities in Kabul to perform such a sophisticated surgery here… I am really sorry for this news’ added the doctor.

Two weeks later, Mo was operated in Pakistan, and the doctors declared the full success. The boy was barely stitched, but the doctors decided to sign him off from hospital. ‘You can now go back to Afghanistan – the sooner the better!’ – instructed the Pakistani doctor.

The journey home turned out to be long, difficult and tiresome. They travelled in a rented car. Mo was having a very high fever, and Faisal was very worried, as his wound was bleeding a lot – more than Faisal expected to be reasonable. When they reached Jalalabad, east of Kabul, Faisal discovered that American troops involved themselves in some heavy fighting with the Talebans, and the road home was impassable. Somehow desperate, and extremely worried about Mo’s high fever, Faisal and the driver decided to reach Kabul using an alternative route, leading through small villages, and extremely uncomfortable and dangerous hills. They reached Kabul hours later. Little Mo was already unconscious. ‘I was convinced, I was loosing him!’ – Faisal was extremely distressed. ‘We went straight to the Indira Ghandi hospital… I handed Mo to the doctor, and he was already motionless…I couldn’t stop crying’ – he went on.

The doctors discovered that the wound had reopened completely, and that Mo needed another operation really quickly to close it. They decided to perform it there, though they had little tools to do it properly. ‘Somehow, they managed to save my Mo…I was so relieved’ – carried on Faisal. ‘A few days later, the American doctors happened to arrive to the ward, where Mo was’, he smiled. ‘Everything went so quickly afterwards’ – he referred. ‘Ten days later, Mo and I were on our way to New York…’

Kacper looked at Faisal, rather proud of his friend. ‘You are an amazing father, and I am so happy you never gave up on Mo’ he remarked. ‘Mo will never forget you that…just like I will never forget my parents fighting for me, when I was a kid’ he added. Faisal got up from his chair. ‘I need to go back to my friend’s place to check on Mo… He is still so tired after the flight from New York’ he said. ‘I am quite tired too, and need to rest before we start travelling to Kabul again’ – he offered a good-bye hug to Kacper.

PS. Kacper is receiving news of multiple bomb attacks in various places in Pakistan

Beautiful Persia - Post 43

2009-06-21T09:42:00.004+02:00

The Al Jazeera and BBC’s reports on the protests and riots in Iran’s capital Tehran made Kacper think. He was concerned and impressed in the same time. He admired a fact that people have courage to stand up for their beliefs and rights, and obviously was very sad that such demonstrations were needed in a first place. Kacper strongly believes that any major political or social change has got the biggest chance of success, if it is the people themselves that initiate them. He saw many examples of it himself: the revolution that brought the communism down in Poland, the split of Czechoslovakia into two separate states of Czech and Slovak Republics, finding solutions to the ongoing conflict in Aceh – one of the Indonesia’s north-western province. In all of these places and situations, it is mainly the people that stood for the changes that they believed they needed in their existence. Sometimes their actions involved lots of sacrifice – including precious lives, sometimes things were slightly easier, but it is the people’s involvement and clear support of some ideas that led to results that they wished to see.

Of course, Kacper couldn’t predict whether Iran’s present protests would bring any difference right now, but he knew that something important did start, and sooner or later the people’s voices will need to be taken into account, regardless of how much internal, and external powers disliked it. Kacper also knew that many, if not most Iranians didn’t really like what was happening in their beloved country. Although people didn’t necessarily think of adapting, Western style of democracy, or ways of living, it was clear that many didn’t enjoy oppression, abuse of basic human rights, and lack of opportunities of expressing themselves freely.

Interestingly, as all these dramatic and somehow exciting things take place in Iran, Kacper happens to be in a neighbouring Pakistan – the country, whose society struggles with its presence; and is trying to re-invent itself too. It is also Pakistan, from where around 15 years ago, when Kacper was still a student, he and his friends entered Iran for a short visit that lasted just ten days; ten days that allowed him to fall in love with the country and its amazingly friendly people…

The bus that they travelled in obviously had a great deal of technical problems. Whenever the gears were being changed, a very worrying sound of cracking steel accompanied the action. They were just fifteen kilometres from Taftan, a small Beluchistani town on the border between Pakistan and Iran. There was nothing around them but rocks and sand. ‘Goodness me… come on, you can make it’ Kacper tried to encourage their vehicle. ‘Don’t break, until we reach Taftan, please!’ Mariukka did her best to reinforce Kacper’s plea. The whole group of friends travelling from India to Europe, of which Kacper was a part, was slightly stressed and worried. Their Pakistani visas were expiring the following day, and they needed to enter Iran latest the in the evening of that day, to avoid trouble with the Pakistani immigration system. After all, none of them wanted to experience doubtful pleasures of staying in Pakistan’s jails for being illegal immigrants!

Mariukka pointed her fingers at the sign on the road. It read ‘Taftan’. ‘We made it!’ thought Kacper. He had imagined the town would look somehow different. In fact, he was not sure whether Taftan could be referred to as a town in a first place. Along the paved road, there were some huts built out of mud. They accommodated small shops selling tea, snacks, and cigarettes. Except these shops, there was literally nothing else… As they drove on, they noticed some kind of a structure that looked like a gate. ‘This must be a border crossing’ Kacper decided in his mind. ‘We have made it… we will not overstay our Pakistani visas’ stated Richard – Kacper’s English friend. They stopped their bus right in front of a building that had a sign, which read ‘IMMIGRATION SERVICE OF THE ISLAMIC REPUCLIC OF PAKISTAN’, and turned the engine off.

‘You can not cross to Iran today’ informed the Pakistani officer. ‘The post is closed, and you can only cross tomorrow after nine in the morning… the post is open between nine in the morning, until five in the afternoon’ he added. ‘But sir, it is not five o’clock yet… we still have over one hour until five’ noticed Mariukka politely. ‘Our officers are busy now’ he pointed at three men drinking tea, obviously preparing for a nap. ‘Sir, will you allow us crossing tomorrow, our Pakistan visas will expire then’ asked worried Kacper. ‘Don’t worry about anything’ added the officer reassuringly. ‘You will sleep in Taftan tonight and leave for Iran then… just park your bus, over there, off the road, so you don’t block it’ he added. ‘Surely, we are not blocking traffic here…there are no cars around’ thought Kacper to himself, but said nothing. Instead, Richard started the engine, and tried to move the bus to the place, where he had been advised. Although, the engine seemed to work, the bus wouldn’t move. Richard pressed the accelerator, released the clutch… the bus just refused moving, even the slightest bit… ‘I think that we are in trouble…’ he whispered to Kacper and the rest of the group. He tried again, but the second attempts wasn’t more encouraging. The group decided to push their bus to the parking space. As they were ready to start their hard work, Richard decided to check the reverse gear…to their surprise, the bus moved! Well, it moved backward rather than forward, but it did move! As the space around them allowed it, Richard started manoeuvring the bus so he could reach the parking spot moving on the reverse gear. The whole exercise looked rather strange but amusing. Even the sleepy Pakistani officers seemed to have enjoyed the situation, and got up from their beds to help giving directions, so that Richard could successfully park his large vehicle… The Iranian officers, on the other side of the border also got interested, and they observed the whole situation from behind the gate cheering and commenting on their efforts.

‘Do you have any garage shops in here?’ asked Mariukka to the post guards. They all smiled… ‘Madam… here in Taftan… there is nothing except what you see around you’ they pointed at the stalls and shops. ‘There is a town on the other side of the border though, and they have got garages there’ he added. The Iranians overheard the conversation. ‘Do not worry, when you reach Iran, we will help’ one of them smiled encouragingly. ‘Gee… but how are we going to reach Iran… our bus can not drive forward…’ wondered Kacper. ‘Stop worrying man… we will enter Iran on the reverse gear’ declared Richard. ‘This is not happening…’ thought Kacper. ‘Richard, you are mad’ he stated and kept thinking of possible solutions.

Next morning, the Pakistani officers knocked at the door of their bus. Kacper was already up, and was looking at the sunrise. The guys came with tea. ‘Please do invite all of your friends to come out and join us for breakfast’ he encouraged him. A few minutes later, they all sat on the mat, in front of the border post, and enjoyed tea, and ate chapatti with some spicy sauce. Kacper loved the hospitality of the officers. Perhaps, they were not very helpful, as professionals, but they certainly seemed extremely friendly.

‘Can we start our immigration procedures, so we can leave Pakistan?’ asked Kacper. ‘But you cannot travel. Your bus is broken’ noticed one of them. ‘We will be fine, we shall push the bus, or enter Iran on the reverse gear’ announced Richard. He sounded so confident that no one questioned it. ‘This is a good idea!’ exclaimed one of the officers. ‘In this way, you will not overstay your visas’ – he genuinely didn’t seem to want his guests to be in trouble.

As they were looking at passports of their strange visitors, the officers were asking about their countries and about their families. ‘Will you take me to Europe with you?’ asked one officer completely openly and seriously. ‘Sir, you know that this is not that easy…and that we cannot promise you that. I can promise however that I will return to your beautiful country one day’ added Kacper and smiled. ‘Yes, Pakistan is very beautiful’ he added. This made the officer quite pleased, and he stamped Kacper passport happily, without much fuss.

All girls put their scarves on. They entered the bus, which was already parked on the road… with its rear side towards the border gate and Iran, and front facing Pakistan. It looked like if they had just entered Pakistan, rather than were about to leave it…The gate opened, and they all waved to the smiling officers… they started moving backward… they were leaving Pakistan, and entering Iran – the country that seemed to all of them slightly scary and worrying. They were entering the land of Islamic Sharia Law; the land, where the foreigners are supposedly not liked…This was happening, in a slightly unusual fashion. They just could hope that the Iranian officials will not be very upset with them bringing a bus that is broken…

The officers on duty did their best to help Richard steer the bus, so he doesn’t drive into any building, or hole. As he succeeded to enter Iran safely, they all cheered and clapped. ‘You are now leaving Iran. We hope to see you again!’ read Kacper. ‘Yes, we are entering, not leaving… but it is a friendly looking sign’ he thought.

The Iranians offered their new visitors tea. The girls didn’t know how to behave really. Iran indeed earned its reputation to be very oppressive towards women – at least in eyes of an average Western citizen. They all felt a bit awkward. None of them thought of Iran to be particularly friendly and welcoming, and they didn’t know how to read the overwhelming friendliness of the guards. ‘Can our friends, I mean, our sisters come and join us for tea as well?’ asked Kacper. ‘But of course, why not?’ the officer looked rather surprised by the question. ‘You are all our dear guests, and we hope that you will all have a wonderful time in Iran’ he added with a smile.

Kacper passport was carefully examined by one of the officer. He looked at his Iranian visa, and then at its cover. ‘Which country?’ he asked. ‘Poland’ answered Kacper. ‘Ah…’ the officer added with a blunt face. ‘Which country again?’ he repeated. ‘Eh… Poland… Polonia, Polsza, Polen…’ he kept on saying in all languages he could think of. ‘Eh…’ nodded the man with a face showing confusion. He then disappeared with the passport. Kacper was slightly uneasy about it. ‘What was so unusual about Poland in Iran?’ he worried. The guard returned shortly. He brought a big wall map of the world! He unfolded it, and asked again. ‘Show where is your country?’ Kacper looked confused, but he pointed at Poland and said ‘This is where I am from.’ ‘Ahh… Bolanda’ he exclaimed rather happily. ‘Bolanda… Lech Walesa… very good!’ he kept on excited. Kacper smiled. ‘Yes, Walesa is our leader’ he added politely, trying to remember that Bolanda meant ‘Poland’ in Persian language.

They were all stamped in, and officially in Iran. They couldn’t go very far though, their bus was still broken. ‘This is Youssuf… he is a mechanic. We called him yesterday, in anticipation that you would be entering in a broken vehivle. He can help you fix your bus’ one of the officers introduced a friendly looking man. All of the travellers from the group were surprised and overwhelmed by how thoughtful and helpful the Iranian officials were. This didn’t fit with their perceptions of the scary Iranian regime. ‘This is a good omen’ thought Kacper. He started liking the country already!

Days later, when Kacper with his friends were leaving Iran for Turkey, they all appeared sad that they time in Iran had passed so fast. Their trip had exposed them to the country that seemed be one of the most hospitable and amazing places they had a chance to experience. In all places; villages and towns like Bam, Tehran or Esfahan, they were always welcomed with an amazing generosity and hospitality. People were curious of them, and eager to teach them about their amazing history; show the beautiful architecture of their towns and markets; landscapes; and finally proudly introduce them to their own families. What had struck Kacper was that everywhere they went; he would hear very open opinions of Iranians about how unhappy they were with the regime. Most people consistently kept on repeating that they want different Iran for their children… Iran that is more open and less oppressive. He head these opinions from poorer and richer citizens… To Kacper, it was clear. Although, there were people, who supported the regime, most were unhappy about it and wanted to see THE CHANGE!

‘Come on Iran!’ thought Kacper, when he watched, yet another report from Tehran. ‘I can’t do more… but my heart is with you – I hope that you can create a country that you believe is best for your children’ he whispered to himself, still thinking of his Iranian adventure that he enjoyed so much 15 years ago.

PS. Kacper is overworked and exhausted.

The Liberty - Post 42

2009-06-11T18:58:00.003+02:00

Kacper was exhausted. He still didn’t manage to overcome his jetlag after the trip from Poland to Pakistan. ‘I wonder what is wrong with me… There are only four hours of time difference between Nowy Sacz and Islamabad, I should have overcome the nuisance of time a different time zone’ he thought. For a week now, Kacper kept on going to bed around 1 o’clock at night, and then would be really tired in the mornings and throughout the day. Stressful security in the country, and to some extend lots of difficult decisions that Kacper needed taking every day at his new project didn’t allow him relax sufficiently either. He would finish his working day late at night, go home, and instead of forgetting about day’s problems, he kept on thinking of them, which didn’t help falling asleep.

‘I need to learn to relax a bit… otherwise, I will burn out quickly’, crossed his mind. Kacper already had his first signs of tiredness. His bowel was discharging small amounts of blood, something that Kacper needed to take seriously, so he doesn’t end up in an operation theatre as he did two years earlier in Bangladesh…(Post 34). ‘Yes, another operation is a last thing I want at the moment’ he decided.

Kacper’s return to Pakistan was proving to be more difficult emotionally that he thought it would be. He has been to the country many times before. He first visited the place in middle of 90’ies. He then kept of flying to Peshawar on various occasions in 1999, when he worked in Afghanistan, and eventually, he came here again in 2006, with his previous organisation, when he worked for benefit of victims of the earthquake that had hit the country in 2005.

His travels to this country involve many memories. Some bit dramatic (Post 19), but mostly very happy, and funny ones too. Seeing Pakistan in so much trouble was naturally heart breaking to him… Saddest of all was that most of Pakistanis were quite negative about the future of their country – something that he had never experienced before. People in Islamabad, Lahore, Quetta, or Peshawar always appeared happy and optimistic, even during times that were surely difficult for the country – like the aftermath of the earthquake. ‘What is happening now?’ he asked himself, without being able to find sensible answers.

Today in the office, together with his team, he was working on possible scenarios on how the humanitarian situation might develop in the country. They were doing the exercise to ensure that Kacper’s organisation prepares itself for responding to crises possibly in the most effective way. There were some gloomy pictures of what might happen. To start with, the present situation is already quite dire and gloomy. Around 3 million people needed to run away from towns and villages, where they originally came from. Many of them lost members of their families, got injured, not to mention loosing earthy possessions that they needed for supporting themselves, or their families. Truly dramatic and sad!

Unfortunately, more misery is likely to happen. Most analyses show that it will not be safe for people to return to their homes for many months to come. That means continuous squatting in camps, or with families, which decided to give the displaced a helping hand by offering space in their own households.

What is very disturbing is that the number of displaced people is only likely to increase in coming months. The Government of Pakistan plan other military operations against the Talebans in Wazaristan (part of western Pakistan), which in turn is expected to produce additional 1.5 million of displaced people. ‘Mum, imagine 1,5 million human beings, 1,5 million of individuals – that is a population larger than Krakow – that need to flee their homes, their lives, their jobs, their daily duties… And this is already adding to present displaced… that is to a population that is as big as Warsaw!’ Kacper tried to explain via telephone, when his mother enquired about his present work.

If this was not bad enough, Pakistan was preparing for possible flooding that might become a reality just in a few months’ time. Indeed the Monsoon Season was coming, and heavy rains are likely to cause a massive climatic displacement of thousands of people. Adding threats of exploding bombs that keep on happening in all corners of the country, and no wonder that people are pessimistic.

Kacper got his disc with songs of Marek Grechuta. The CD nearly never fails helping him unwind, and take some perspective to problems.

‘I wish that when I leave the country, despite all odds, people will feel happier about their prospects… It needs to happen, things need to get better!’ Kacper needed to start feeling positive himself first… He closed his eyes, and got involved with the lyrics of Grechuta’s ‘The Liberty’.

PS. Kacper loved the pictures of his niece that he received by email.

Welcome to Pakistan - Post 41

2009-06-07T09:06:00.004+02:00

‘Why are there so few people in the market, sir?’ Kacper asked the shop owner; in one of the Islamabad’s most popular trading areas, called Gina Market. ‘Last time, I was in Pakistan in 2006, this place was full of people, especially on Saturdays, like today’ he added. ‘This is because of our security. People are scared to be in public places, as we are worried of bomb blasts’ explained the older man. All of the sudden his face became sad. ‘Things are not going well in Pakistan these days… Inch’Allah (God willing), we will overcome these difficulties, and Pakistan will be safer again’ he added with some hope in his voice. ‘Pakistanis are wonderful people, and I am sure, they will be able to sort problems of their country soon’ Kacper wanted to sound as positive as he could. He paid his bill at the counter, and left the shop. Together with his Bangladeshi friend and colleague, Sadhan they decided to walk around the marker a bit more. They both wanted to buy some DVDs with movies. ‘Sadhan, this is absolutely crazy. This is not Islamabad I remember. Ordinary people seem to be scared, and there is such a strange feeling… What is striking me is that it is not only the foreigners that panic about their own security, the Pakistanis themselves seem to be very concerned, and this is worrying’ went on Kacper, somehow not yet able to acknowledge the new situation that he is finding in Pakistan. Sadhan just nodded his head. ‘Yes, this feels very strange’ he agreed.

Later that afternoon, Kacper went home, and decided to read some documents related to the humanitarian situation of the internally displaced people coming from the Swat Valley. He had around 3 hours to do so. He would then go for a dinner with his two new colleagues he was going to work with – both public health specialists. Kacper’s organisation in Pakistan tried to provide some basic services like access to water, and sanitation to around 25,000 families, who fled from areas, where the military operations were taking place. Naturally, public health professionals were of key importance to design and implement such projects. Before engaging himself in some documents, he decided to have a look at the Dawn, one of Pakistan’s daily newspapers. 40 People killed in blast in the mosque… A time bomb destroys a school for girls in Peshawar… Two members of MOM party killed in a terrorist attack in Karachi…The police convoy in Northern Territories attacked. Many police officers injured, and some killed… - read titles of various articles all over the newspaper. ‘Goodness me! This is just one edition of a daily, and all these horrific news are here!’ he noticed to the receptionist of the Bed & Breakfast he stayed in. ‘Sir, this is normal. All editions of daily newspapers look similar in Pakistan these days…’ the guy paused for a second. ‘Many of us stop reading the news, as they are too difficult to handle. Sometimes it is better not to know…’ he explained to Kacper. ‘We will look after you here though, sir. You should not worry! We are happy, you are in Pakistan with us’, he reassured Kacper.

‘Are you ready Kacper?’ asked Osman on the phone. ‘We are now coming with a car to pick you up, and then we can move to the restaurant for our dinner’ he informed Kacper. ‘We have already done the security clearance for the restaurant for tonight, so we don’t need to worry about it anymore’ he let Kacper know. ‘Fantastic! I am looking forward to be going out with you’, he was genuinely excited.

They all placed their orders. Kacper looked out to the street. It was still light. More people appeared on the street, obviously enjoying a pleasant evening and temperature. ‘This is so odd…Things seem to be so quiet, yet everyone is worried all the time, about how insecure it is…’ wondered Kacper. ‘Yes, we live in strange times… You just need to get used to it, and be vigilant all the time’ answered Osman. ‘Once you are really busy with our humanitarian response, you will stop noticing how odd it is here, and just get by with your life’ he went on.

Osman, Mary (Zimbabwean colleague), and Kacper started chatting away. In order to break initial ice, and make the atmosphere a bit cosier, Kacper started talking about his previous work experience. The two colleagues relaxed quickly, and also begun sharing their previous work experiences from various parts of the world. The conversation was very casual, and it seemed like, the three started feeling very comfortable with each other’s company. ‘It seems like, I will be working with a very nice team here…’ thought Kacper gratefully. ‘They are both really nice people’ he was very pleased.

As they were about to pay their bill, nearly simultaneously their mobile telephones started beeping – announcing that text messages arrived. They all looked at each other, and reached the phones. Security Alert: The bomb blast in Islamabad, Sector H8. Please confirm you are ok, and return to your respective residences as soon as possible. Thank you for your cooperation. Ahmed. ‘I guess, we need to be going home’, Osman stated slightly annoyed. Their car was already waiting for them in front of the restaurant.

Back at home, Kacper tuned to one of the TV news channels. Ambulances, crowds of people, running policemen… A suicide bomb attack took place in front of the Police Head Quarters in Islamabad’s H8 Sector. Although three people died, and additional 4 are injured, it is believed that the police prevented a major disaster, by shooting at the attacker at the yard of their compound. The attacker detonated bombs strapped to his body, as police started firing shots at him… ‘It seems like, the deployment in Pakistan has got a potential to keep me busy…’ came through Kacper’s mind, before went to bed. ‘We will be fine, we will all be fine’ he went on thinking about challenges of his work.

PS. Kacper has just returned from the Polish Embassy, where he voted in the European Parliamentary elections.

The Most Beautiful Thing - Post 40

2009-06-01T09:33:00.006+02:00

‘You are the most beautiful thing on the globe’ Kacper’s mother greeted him in the morning. ‘Happy Children’s Day’, she added. Kacper smiled. ‘Mum, I am 36 years old… Kind of difficult to justify that it is my holiday’ he teased her. She embraced him, and kissed his cheek. ‘You will always be my child, and I am so very proud of you’ she told him. She paused for a while, and her thoughts seemed to have taken her somewhere far. ‘I am very lucky to have two sons like you and your brother’, mum became slightly emotional. ‘No, not at all Mama’ Kacper interrupted. ‘It is us, who are so very lucky to have you and Tata as our parents’ he reassured her. She got up from a chair, where she had sat a moment earlier and suggested: ‘Let’s have some really nice breakfast’.

Kacper smiled again, when he thought of his mother calling him The Most Beautiful Thing. This is how she always referred to him, this is how she would address letters or emails to him, and this is how she called him, whenever he was sad or unhappy in hospitals that he used to stay in. Of course, when he was a teenager, he was ashamed of his nickname. ‘Mum, stop calling me like that… at least in front of friends…’ he used to beg her. Today though, whenever he hears her referring to him as The Most Beautiful Thing, he recalls his most wonderful moments of childhood, and he thinks of passing time.

‘God, I am 36… where is all the time gone?’ he sometimes wonders. He looks at his slowly ageing parents. ‘I am so glad that they have comfortable lives now’ comes through his mind. He only knows too well, how difficult things used to be in the past. Kacper always required lots of care. His medical condition made him stay in various hospitals around the country for over a decade. As a baby, and later an older child, Kacper’s body was so weak and deformed that many doctors didn’t give him much chance of surviving past the age of fifteen. He only learnt how to walk at the age of five. At the age of eleven, he started the series of complicated surgeries, which physically transformed him into being a fairly normal looking kid. He still remembers, once, when he woke up after a long operation at the Polyclinic of the Jagiellonian University in Zakopane, all of the sudden he became 12 centimetres taller… His chest and back humps were dramatically reduced, and he could actually get up, and stand straight without his nose touching his knees…

All of these miracles were only possible because of his parents. It is especially his mother, who fought for him, and decided to never give in. ‘Kacper, you are just a normal kid… perhaps with some more physical challenges than some of your friends, but you are a normal kid! Moreover, you can achieve in life, whatever you can only dream of, as long as you work hard to get it’ she tirelessly kept on teaching him. Today, Kacper is convinced that she needed these teachings herself, she needed them to be strong, and to be able to go through all obstacles that her fate prepared for her – obstacles that in communist Poland were not necessarily easy to face.

‘We will need to operate your son, but there is very little likelihood that we succeed’ the doctor told mum and dad at the private meeting at her Zakopane office. ‘We have no choice however. Should you decide not to go for this surgery, Kacper’s health will deteriorate fast, and he is likely to die within 6 months to 1 year’ she added. ‘I need to be honest that his surgery will be complicated, and many things may go wrong, but I strongly believe that we need to offer him this chance’ she tried to convince them. She then explained that she was going to involve one of the French humanitarian organisations to help them finance some of the sophisticated tools that they needed for performing the surgery. It was the middle of 1981, and Poland was heading towards the total economical and political meltdown. The meltdown that stripped hospitals from funding, and access to technology that they desperately needed for helping their own patients effectively. ‘I would like to suggest that we perform the surgery, as soon as we have all the means to do so’ she went on. ‘There is no question… of course, we agree for this surgery, and we only hope that we shall be able to be helpful in raising funds for it’ Kacper’s parents agreed at once.

‘Darling, you do not need to worry about money’ Auntie Marysia told Kacper’s mother on the phone (Auntie Marysia is featured in Post 31). ‘We will borrow you anything you might need to have, and then, I will arrange work for you here in Montreal, so you can come over and save some more money for further treatment’ she tried to be as helpful as she possibly could. ‘Darling, you don’t need to cry, we will go through it together, I will help you as much as I can’ she calmed crying mum down.

With the support coming from the French humanitarian organisation, combined with the loan from Auntie Marysia in Canada, the doctors were ready for the surgery just two months later. ‘Now, the only thing that you need to worry about is that we do a good job… and I would like to promise you that we will do all in our power to save Kacper’ the doctor tried to be as optimistic as she could.

‘Mum, when am I going to have the operation? I want to have it now, and I want to get better, so I can go home and play with other kids – this is what you used to demand, when I was visiting you in Zakopane’ mum told Kacper years later. ‘I was so scared of listening to this… Of course, I couldn’t tell you how serious the things were… However, you wanting the operation so much made me feel a bit less worried’ she would later explain.

On 12^th December 1981, Kacper had his surgery. When he woke up in the intensive care unit, he saw many of the nurses crying. ‘What is happening? Am I now well? Why are you crying?’ he asked. ‘No, no child, you are doing very well, in fact, you make me hope things will be fine, you are our SUNSHINE… it is just that I am worried that our country is going into the civil war…’ she stroke Kacper’s head. ‘The Marital Law arrived when you were in the hospital… Of course, life always used to do it to us…’ mum smiled. ‘One worry was not enough… we worried of you, and then we worried about what was happening in the country’ she added. She then recalled that she couldn’t even visit Kacper in the hospital, and therefore she didn’t know how the operation went for a long while. ‘The telephone lines were cut, and they imposed travel restrictions on all citizens… I couldn’t visit you for nearly 2 weeks’ mum had tears in her eyes.

Around 2 years later, when Kacper was already getting better, mum left to Canada for a year. She went to Montreal to work as an illegal caretaker of an old Jewish lady of Polish origins. Although, her employers turned out to be some wonderful people, and became friends of the family, mum recalls the time in Canada to be the most difficult in her whole life. ‘I missed you guys so much, I didn’t want to be there, just had no choice… I needed to repay the debts’ she explained. ‘Good news was that I was lucky enough to make enough to give the money back, and to earn more to bring back to Poland to help the family a bit’ mum added proudly.

Kacper looked out of the window at the beautiful garden, and blossoming flowers. ‘I am here, and I can do whatever I do in life, just because of stubbornness of my mother…’ he thought. ‘I just hope that I will be able to provide to mum and dad as long as they need it, so that they can enjoy some comforts at least when they grow older’ he sincerely hoped.

‘The Most Beautiful Thing’, mum called Kacper. ‘Come over and join us for breakfast’ she invited.

PS. Kacper is preparing for his departure to Islamabad.

Loved ones dealing with your work - Post 39

2009-05-29T08:39:00.003+02:00

‘Bombs are exploding all over Pakistan… Do your parents know? Have you told them that you will be going to Islamabad yet?’ asked Anita (Kacper’s very good friend from Germany) in her email. Kacper was indeed worried about how he was going to tell his family about spending 6 months in the country. They already know Kacper would be going there, and it was hard enough… Adding that Kacper would spend in Pakistan SIX MONTHS seemed like a very difficult thing to accept for people around him, so Kacper is still contemplating, when and how to reveal this information…

Kacper is quite excited about working in Pakistan again, but he does understand why his parents are worried. The media do not portrait the situation in the country very favourably, and then, it was in Pakistan that Kacper was once kidnapped (Post 19). Then, if it was not enough, his family keeps on talking about the case of a Polish engineer, who had been beheaded by the Talebans in Pakistan, just a few months ago. He realises it is difficult, and tries dealing with it too. He therefore is explaining that Islamabad is much safer than the rest of the country, that most of people are actually extremely friendly and helpful, that the security regulations of his organisations are very strict and that there is generally little likelihood that things would go wrong. These awareness campaigns usually help for some time… at least until next piece of news from the media.

Dealing with parents, friends, and people that you love is not easy, when you are far away, especially in places, where communication is not readily available. As Kacper’s mother became computer and Internet literate, it is more and more challenging explaining to her about wars, and insecurities in places where he works. She just opens online news services and finds out that there was a fighting in such and such place, and that possibly her son might have been there. As Kacper sometimes doesn’t have the same information that media in Poland broadcast, it happens that his reactions to reassure his family come too late…

‘Kacper, I think that you need to call your mother as soon as you can. I think she is worried of you…’ asked his boss in Khartoum on the radio. Kacper was in Wau, in southwestern part of Sudan. ‘Great’ he thought. ‘How am I going to do that…’ he answered. ‘The telephone here has not been working for last 10 days, and there is no way that I can get in touch with anyone overseas at the moment’ he added. ‘Can’t I call your parents and tell them that you were okey? The telephones in Khartoum work well, and I can happily do that…’ offered Pierre. ‘That would be great, except that they will not understand a word of what you say’ explained Kacper. ‘Here is what we can do though’ – an idea came to his mind. He asked Pierre to get in touch with his Polish friend, who lived in Khartoum, and give her his parents’ phone number, so that she could call and leave a message in Polish that he was fine and there was nothing to worry about.

The plan nearly worked. Magda, his Polish friend, managed to call Kacper’s mother, as instructed, but slightly too late… Worried of some fighting that erupted in southern Sudan (information acquired via Polish news), and not having news from her son, mum called the Poland’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Warsaw demanding to find out what was happening to her son, and pressing for an evacuation for him. It was then the Polish MOFA that got in touch with Kacper’s organisation’s headquarters in Paris just to find out that he was sound and fine and that the fighting was actually quite far from where Kacper was.

The Sudan drama was long time ago, and his parents have become more experienced in dealing with their own stress since then. Also, the communication these days is much better, and it is usually possible for Kacper to maintain contacts with his loved ones even in the remotest places on earth (through satellite based systems), so things are a bit easier. This doesn’t mean that Kacper doesn’t have strategies on how to communicate and deal with his parents and family, while travelling. They vary depending on countries he is in, and on available resources around (for example people who can communicate Polish – so that they can call home, if for whatever reason Kacper is not able to do so). Also, as Kacper’s brother speaks decent English these days, things get slightly less stressful for everyone.

Travelling around to remote places has other personal consequences on lives of Kacper’s friends and on his own. He still is extremely sorry to think about his relationship that finished barely a year ago. Although, Kacper is and will be a very good friend with Dominik, who lives in Krakow, and whom he had met in Australia some years ago, their relationship just didn’t make any sense. Dominik is very domestic, and loves his lifestyle in Krakow, while Kacper simply was not ready to settle down in the city, where he thought he wouldn’t be able to find work that would interest him. Both men seemed extremely fond of one another, however thought that long-distance relationship wouldn’t work for them, and therefore decided to end it and become good friends instead.

Kacper certainly loved his job, and enjoyed challenges and lifestyle it involves. It was clear however that the older and more experienced he becomes, the more desire and need for some sort of stability he seemed to require. The day of changes in Kacper’s professional life seems to be inevitable. An unanswered question remains when and what Kacper would need to adjust in his life. Before that happens, Kacper is preparing for his trip to Islamabad!

PS. Kacper is looking out for a DHL parcel from London.

Home Sweet Home - Post 38

2009-05-25T21:01:00.006+02:00

‘Everything is looking so green and fresh’ – Kacper was extremely excited to finally have reached Warsaw, after a long journey from N’Djamena. He was in a taxi from the Fryderyk Chopin Airport to the Central Train Station, where he was going to catch an intercity train to Krakow. He was already tired, and a bit sleepy. ‘I will have a nap in the train’ he decided and just a thought of it made him feel better.

Kacper was coming to Poland for around 10 days. He has just completed his humanitarian deployment in Chad, where he worked for people that needed to flee their homes from the areas of eastern Chad and western Sudan, due to local conflicts and wars. He was now preparing, at least mentally, for his next task that he was going to undertake in Pakistan. A massive movement of around one million people in northern part of the country, following the fighting between Taleban militia and the Government of Pakistan caused a humanitarian crisis. Kacper’s organisation along with many other ones are trying to provide to the displaced people with essential services like water, sanitation, health, or food until they are able to return to their towns and villages from where they had fled.

‘This is going to be tough work there’ considered Kacper already in his train. ‘Before the work starts, I will have 10 days of holidays though’ he carried on. ‘I will need to make sure that I will enjoy my time with family and friends to the fullest’ he thought reasonably.

Kacper was going to be quite busy, when he was in Poland this time. He needed to visit a few doctors to check on how his body coped with his last deployment and check his vaccinations. He planned to meet with some people from the University of Warsaw, with whom he is now writing a book on international aid, and the are planning to publish some time in spring 2010. Of course, he was planning to meet with some of his friends from Nowy Sacz, and from Slovakia. At last, Kacper would be busy arranging his trip to Pakistan. Visas, getting tickets, sorting hotels out, shopping – all will take time.

Kacper looked at beautiful old houses of Krakow. His train was approaching the main city’s station. ‘I am so much looking forward to holidays’ he smiled… ‘I definitely need some rest, before Pakistan’ he picked his suitcase, and waited until the train would stop at the station. Kacper was home!

PS. Kacper was pleased with his trip to Slovakia that he had today.

Pleasures of flying - Post 37

2009-05-22T15:18:00.002+02:00

‘I really have chosen a wrong job! I hate flying so much, and I am on a plane at least twice a month…’ Kacper wrote to Franek, who is a pilot in LOT Polish Airlines. ‘Please suggest something… What can I read or do so it can help me stop being that scared each time that I enter planes?’ he begged in his email.

Kacper tries to make jokes out of his fear of flying, and this often helps, but as soon as there are some bigger turbulences out there in the air, he gets pale, sweats, and in extreme situations, he even grabs other passengers’ hands unconsciously. Luckily no one ever got upset with him, when he does that, on a contrary, he even made friends with some of his air victims. The fact remains: KACPER IS SCARED OF FLYING!

It is not always that he was afraid of planes. As a kid, he always dreamt of flying, and thought it was such a fantastic way of travelling. It is his later experiences that made him dislike aircrafts.

Flying around places like rural Angola, South Sudan, Chad, or Afghanistan always involves elements of surprises and adventure. Villages and towns in South Sudan actually don’t have proper airstrips (not mentioning airports). Planes land and take off from fields that are adapted to be airstrips. This adaptation usually means that one just makes sure that there are not too many big wholes in the ground… Someone on the ground usually checks this each time before arrival and departure of planes. Kacper still remembers working in Upper Nile of South Sudan. It was his responsibility, to walk around the filed (airstrip) twice a week (plane was coming twice a week) and make sure that there were no new wholes in the ground, just before planes arrived. He would then need to report his findings via radio to the United Nations base in a neighbouring town. Only, when they received his confirmation, the plane would be allowed to fly in. On top of this, Kacper also needed to report weather conditions in his village. He truly hated doing it. He felt that he had too much responsibility… indeed he was never trained to work for air industry business, and he didn’t think he would like to.

Arrival of planes always attracted attention in the village, where he lived. It was a social event. Planes came with interesting people, brought colourful boxes, supplies of medicines… People loved it, and always found it interesting to come and observe offloading and loading of aircrafts. The interest actually created serious dangers to safety of people. People simply didn’t realise of how powerful aircrafts could be, and instead of running out to give space to landing planes, they would chase them with excitement. Kacper and his colleagues tried to teach the residents to be careful. They did many awareness campaigns, during masses in churches, or services in mosques. They helped to some extend, but there were always some more adventures people, who thought it was fun to chase planes!

Kacper admired pilots of these small aircrafts. As far as he was concerned, they just managed to do impossible work every day – and successfully. He still remembers his first time, when he was arriving to his Upper Nile village. They were in their tiny Cessna plane, approaching to land. The plane started descending steeply. There was a river on one side, and swamp on the other side. In the middle a bit of dry land with cows and goats on it! ‘This is where we are going to land…’ announced the pilot. Kacper obviously thought, he was joking, just to realise seconds later that in fact he wasn’t. They were about to touch down in the middle of herds of cows! The plane was already around 20 meters above the ground. It looked like they were going land soon… For some reason, this never happened… At some point the pilot pulled some levers and their plane steeply gained height again. ‘We were chasing all animals away’, one of the passengers informed worried Kacper. ‘Now, as we cleared the land, we will turn around and descent for final landing’ he stated reassuringly. Kacper’s face must have said it all. ‘This is a normal procedure… Nothing to worry about’ he added to calm him down. Whey they eventually reached their destination, Kacper learnt that the pilot was also assessing how wet the ground was. Had it be too muddy, they would have never landed, because the plane would have difficulties to take off again. ‘Fantastic’ thought Kacper with sarcasm… ‘I am at the end of the world’ he concluded.

Food drops were other operations that engraved themselves in his memory. The famine in Bahr el Ghazal State in Sudan some years ago, prompted the World Food Programme to drop food, which Kacper and his team would later distribute to local inhabitants. They chose the dropping spot far from buildings, and in a place that looked safe. Local police and army secured the place, and the villagers were advised to stay away from the location, so that no one is injured.

Obviously, the news spread fast, and some curious Janjaweed militiamen decided to visit the place, hoping that they could steal a sack or two of grain for themselves. The arrival of 5 men on horses worried Kacper, but he couldn’t do anything. He just hoped that the governmental officials would make sure all went as per plan, and that Janjaweed wouldn’t be of nuisance.

Finally they heard the plane coming. Soon after that they saw it on a horizon. It approached the site, and the pilot started circulating, assessing the safety for the drop. Until then, the Janjaweed seemed to have shown patience. They were just observing what was happening patiently. Kacper thought, the police had convinced them not to make any trouble. As the plane was making its final approach to open its back part and eject pallets with food, one of the militiamen kicked his horse’s belly, and… off he went… chasing the plane! Kacper looked with amazement in his face. ‘What the hell is he thinking…’ he thought. Everyone started shouting, hoping he would abandon his idea. Everything happened very quickly. Kacper just turned around… He didn’t want to see what was going to happen. Later he was told that one of the pallets with a few hundreds kilos of grain on it landed on a poor man and a horse… Needless to say that no one could save neither of them… Both were killed instantly.

Another time, Kacper travelled with TAAG Angolan Airline plane from the town of Lubango to the country’s capital Luanda. They were in a descent looking Boeing 737. Everything looked okey, and the flight was actually quite pleasant. They were approaching the airstrip of the Luanda airport. They were touching the ground, and Kacper started relaxing a bit. Seconds after, something was going wrong… They were on the ground, but the plane didn’t seem to be stopping. All of the sudden, everyone around started realising that things were not right. Some people started shouting. Kacper grabbed a seat in front of him and held it tight, waiting nervously what was going to happen. He looked out of the window, and noticed that the airstrip was about to finish… With full speed, their plane overshot the paved runway… There was some noise in the front of the plane, and in the same time, slowly they started loosing some of their speed. More suspicious noise of things being broken and things falling could be heard. Few more shakes, and the plane stopped. No one said a word for a few seconds. Then pe0ple started clapping. As they found out later, something was wrong with the aircraft’s brakes, and plane couldn’t stop. What saved them was a fact that there was enough space behind the airstrip for the plane to loose its speed. They also found out how extremely lucky they were. Their plane apparently ended up in a mine-infested area… (meant to protect the airstrip from attacks of rebels). It took soldiers 5 hours to evacuate the plane. They needed to de-mine the area, before allowing the passengers out. Within these five hours, one of the Angolan ladies gave birth to a premature son… Happily, both mother and son survived and were well!

There were many, many other scary, and funny plane stories in Kacper’s career. One of those, was particularly special. Kacper and 5 other passengers were waiting for cargo to be loaded onto their small aircraft. It was their last stop on their way to Lokkichoggio in Kenya. They were in a small village of Akobo in south-eastern Sudan, literally on the border with Ethiopia. ‘Okey, you can board the plane’ announced the pilot. Kacper was pleased; they were finally going to travel. It was a long and tiring day. He just wanted to reach Kenya, so that he could catch a plane to Nairobi, and then off to Zanzibar for his one weeklong holiday.

The engine started and the plane slowly made its way to the beginning of their dirt airstrip. The noise intensified and their aircraft started gaining speed. It smoothly started making its way up. They were not very high yet, perhaps on the height comparable to 5^th or 6^th floor. Suddenly a black smoke appeared somewhere in the front of the craft. The engine started making strange noises, and soon after died… ‘God, we are crashing’ must have come through everyone’s minds. Their plane glided for a few meters, and then started loosing its height dramatically quickly. ‘Brace, brace, brace’ heard Kacper. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do… He just realised that they were in trouble. Kacper saw water… they were about to hit a nearby swamp, just outside of the village.

The impact didn’t hurt. Kacper thought it would be very painful, and imagined the worst. In fact he didn’t have time to think of pain… Kacper looked at other passengers. They were all shocked, but it seemed like everyone was making some physical movements. They were all alive! ‘Everyone ok?’ shouted distressed pilot. His chin was bleeding, and his shirt was torn. ‘Yeah…’ came from everyone’s mouths. Kacper was worried that their plane would start drowning, but none of this seemed to have been happening. It was not going down at all. He felt severe pain in his elbow, and around his waist – where the seatbelt was. He unfastened himself and waited. Very soon after, they noticed canoes that must have come from the village to rescue. The people outside helped one of the passengers open the emergency door. One by one, they were pulled out. The three canoes took them to the village. They were saved!

Kacper had his elbow broken, and had some bleeding wounds all over the body. He was more shocked rather than injured. The other passengers and their pilot also seemed distressed, but besides minor injuries, they all appeared fine.

It was the International Red Cross that came to their rescue. They sent to light aircrafts with doctors to pick them up. ‘We are taking you to safety’ announced the South African pilot, before they took off. ‘We will just wait until the medicines that I injected in you will make you sleep’ added a friendly Swiss doctor. Kacper and his travel companions were to finish their trip asleep…

PS. Kacper is wondering whom he should vote for in the European Parliament elections.

Jurassic Park - Post 36

2009-05-21T09:06:00.014+02:00

Kacper has received a ticket for his Air France flight to Warsaw. He has just two days left in N’Djamena. The remaining time will be busy, as he will be finalising his last report from his deployment in the country. The paper will include guidance on how his organisation might want to prepare itself for possible movement of war refugees from Sudan. Good news is that the rainy season is just around the corner, and the rain is likely easing on military operations both in Sudan and Chad – it is simply too difficult for military equipment to be carried through mud, and seasonal rivers that will soon appear in deserts between the two countries. Less fighting will obviously translate into more stability for civilians. Having said that, all horrors of wars might return in October, when it will become dry again. This is when Kacper’s organisation will need to be prepared for stepping up its efforts in helping people, who might need it.

His deployment in Chad forced Kacper to think about conflicts and wars frequently. Like many humanitarian workers, sometimes he looks at conflicts in a very rational and pragmatic way. He tries to predict what might happen – to ensure safety of personnel, or to design good quality, comprehensive programmes for victims of fighting. The pragmatic take of wars dehumanises them a bit, and this actually, to some extend, helps Kacper dealing with war horrors. Kacper wouldn’t be doing his job though, if he didn’t realise what wars mean to people on personal and human level. Stories that he sometimes hear are painful and tragic, and they shake Kacper’s conviction in goodness that he wants to believe is engraved in each and every person walking on this planet…

George screamed in front of a television. He picked a remote controller and changed the channel. He looked very distressed. His Indonesian colleagues started laughing at his reaction. ‘Come on George… We want to finish watching the Jurassic Park!’ one of them demanded, and took the controller from George’s hands, just to change the channel back to the movie. At that point George left the living room. He run out to the garden outside of their house. Except Kacper, no one seemed to have noticed how distressed he was. Kacper didn’t understand what upset George so much, but it was obvious something was not right. He slowly got up from his sofa, and went out following his colleague.

George sat on a chair under a huge tree in their beautiful garden. He still appeared to be disturbed. ‘George, you are alright?’ asked Kacper carefully. ‘Wanna come over for Ulei Kareng (type of Indonesian coffee)?’ he offered. ‘I know this quiet cafeteria in the centre of Banda Aceh’ explained Kacper. ‘We will be there in no time’ he encouraged. George liked the idea and agreed quickly. ‘It will be really nice’ he answered.

They were sitting in the café, and Kacper ordered two coffees. He didn’t want to rush any conversation, so waited a bit and looked at his African friend. George was his colleague from Sierra Leone. He arrived to Indonesia just a few months earlier to help Kacper’s team to monitor progress and quality of programmes they implemented for victims of the tsunami.

‘What was it that freaked you out about the movie?’ finally asked Kacper. ‘The monster… I mean the dinosaurs… they were awful…’ explained George. Kacper raised his eyebrows. ‘But George, you just saw an animation. They were not real… You must know that!’ stated Kacper. ‘I was scared of them… I don’t know why, but they reminded me war, they reminded me of all these horrible things that happened to me’ he told Kacper. He looked at George’s eyes. They seemed to have expressed some unspeakable and incomprehensible sadness. Kacper would never forget them… ‘They showed all pain of the world’ later he recalled.

‘Look at this…’ George rolled his sleeves up, until Kacper could see four big scars on his upper arm. ‘See… they were taking my flesh out from here with metal hooks’ he went on. ‘They did it, so that I could remember that I was controlled by them… that I remember that I should be scared of them’ – George took coffee to his hands. ‘Before that happened, I had been running from Freetown for a week or so’ he restarted his story. Kacper just listened. He didn’t dare asking any questions. ‘I was there with my older brother. There were also two other boys, and three girls… They were our neighbours from Freetown. My brother was 19 years old, and my father had requested him to look after all of us, and take us to safety. We tried to reach Liberia. We were told there were refugee camps there, and that we would be safe in that country…’

‘…After perhaps 7 days, we stopped to rest. We were still in Sierra Leone. We were tired, and we hadn’t eaten for hours. My brother told us to hide in bushes, while he wanted to go to a village to get some food for us. He wanted to see whether it was possible to steal a chicken or two. Just moments after he left us, I heard shots, and my brother scream. I run, run towards him… After a few meters, someone hit me at my head. I fell…’ George was all in tears. ‘They took us both. My brother couldn’t walk; they shot him in his leg. I tried to help him, but I was just a little boy. The rebels got very upset with him… He couldn’t walk, and he slowed them down. One of the guys separated us, and the other one put his gun to his head… He pulled the trigger… I had blood on my face, my brother’s blood…’ George stopped for a while, and sipped his coffee.

‘I don’t know what has happened to the other kids in the bush. I have never heard from them, ever – even when I eventually returned to Freetown years later. They are missing and no one knows what fate might have met them…’ George stopped for a while, and reminded silent for around 5 minuets. Then he continued again: ‘I couldn’t cry much. They gave me a heavy sack and told me to carry it, and follow them. We walked for 4 hours, until we reached the camp. They forced me to drink alcohol. I tried to refuse, I told them that I was Christian and I couldn’t drink. They hit me… they didn’t like me. I was just a kid, Kacper. I was just a kid…’ George didn’t cry anymore, but his eyes again became very sad though.

‘…I was in the rebel group for 3 months. They tortured me every day. They tried to teach me, how to shoot, how to kill, how to drink and take drugs. Slowly I started to give in to these lessons. I was just a kid… I didn’t want to die! I was lucky though… One day, they were all stoned and they fell asleep. So I just run… I managed to be saved by some other Sierra Leonean refugees. They were going to Liberia, and I joined them…’

George asked for some orange juice, and then carried on his tale: ‘Years after, I returned to Freetown. I found my mother. She was the only person that survived from our family. They raped my sister, her daughter in front of her. They beat my mother until she fell unconscious. When she woke up, my sister was dead, and all my mother could do was just bury her body. My father had been killed before that, in the streets of Freetown. Kacper… it is just my mother and I who survived… My mother stopped talking. She doesn’t talk to anyone… there is too much pain in her. She is a bit like a plant… She lives, but she is not with me anymore.’

‘I tried to have our lives as normal as possible. It was not easy Kacper. I missed my siblings and I didn’t know how to earn our living. I went to school again, and I managed to find work in our organisation. I did my best to prove that I was a good and hard working person. They soon promoted me, and now they even sent me here to Indonesia. I am so grateful, Kacper… I can provide for my family and look after my mother!’ George finished his tragic story. They still sat there in the café for another 30 minutes. They just looked at the busy street of Banda Aceh, and watched the life go on. Their minds however for a long time remained in a small country of western Africa.

Kacper was in his bedroom. His was still thinking of his friend’s life. George’s story was so horrific that nearly unreal, and had he not seen, and known George, he would have thought that the story like that must be a result of imagination of some movie script writer… This story was real however, as real as George and his scars on his arms. ‘God…’ thought Kacper… ‘Why… why all this? Why people need to go through something that horrible?’ Unfortunately, Kacper didn’t find any answers that would bring him peace.

PS. Kacper is planning his week that he will spend in Poland.

Going out in Madrid - Post 35

2009-05-19T14:02:00.007+02:00

Maria, Felicio’s wife was showing Kacper their apartment, where they lived in Madrid. ‘And Kacper, this is where you are going to sleep, while you are with us’, she opened the door and let him inside. It was a small, but a very beautifully decorated bedroom. Kacper loved all vivid colours of walls, and tastefully chosen furniture and decorations inside it. ‘Look, O Pensador!’ he exclaimed, when he noticed a familiar looking wooden statue of The Thinking Man, which the couple had brought from Angola. Kacper turned around, and embraced Maria, and then Felicio. ‘Guys, thank you for inviting me over to stay with you! It is wonderful to be with you again’ he said in Portuguese. ‘Kacper, feel at home… this is actually your home, you know that’ stated Felicio. ‘Frycek…you are great!’ – Kacper was genuinely moved. Felicio smiled, when he heard him being referred to as Frycek. When they worked together in Angola, Kacper for some reason decided to give him a Polish name, which grew to him so much that everyone around, including his wife and their business partners wouldn’t call him anything different but Frycek! ‘Yes, your Frycek is here for you…’ he confirmed amused and pleased.

The three met a few years before in Luanda. Frycek and Maria arrived to Angola, right after Kacper. Frycek was to become the country director of the organisation, Kacper worked for then, while Maria came to live with him, as his partner. Both Spaniards originated from very affluent and wealthy families. They decided to spend a year in Angola, in order to contribute towards, what they believed, a fairer world.

They went to Segovia. Kacper’s Spanish hosts wanted to make sure that he had a chance to visit places outside of Madrid. It was a sunny day, and they just sat at one of cosy cafes, where they decided to eat a light lunch. ‘Kacper, you really scared us, when you called from Scotland…’ started Frycek. Kacper knew that sooner or later, they would talk about his mental crisis that he had gone through some weeks before (Post 15). ‘I know Frycek, I know… if this is any consolation, I scared myself as well’ answered Kacper. ‘Why was it so difficult to tell us what was happening?’ asked Maria. ‘Do you know that if you succeeded in taking your life, you would have made so many of us suffer, suffer the way that you can not possibly imagine Kacper’ she went on. Kacper blushed. ‘Maria, I know… it is just that when you are depressed, you tend to be more egoistic than in normal circumstances, and you only concentrate on your own problems… You also think that there is no way out Maria… Really, you stop seeing solutions to even the easiest problems’, he answered. Maria hugged him. ‘And you really thought that people would stop loving you… such a nice person as you… just because you are attracted to men rather than women?’ she asked and then continued jokingly: ‘OK, it might be more challenging for me to conquer you now…’ they all laughed. ‘Then on the other hand, I will have someone to talk to about handsome men around me… I can’t do it with Frycek – you know…’ she kept on teasing. She had tears in her eyes. ‘God… Kacper, I am so glad you are still with us…’ she hugged him again. ’Promise us… when you feel unwell, you just tell us… tell us right away, and wherever you are…’ she demanded. ‘Yes Maria… I promise’ assured Kacper, believing that he would not do the same mistake again.

Kacper felt good: He felt accepted, he felt his silliness was forgiven, and above all, for a first time for many, many months, he started believing that he can lead a happy and fulfilled life. Life without lies, and life without pretending… ‘I will offer myself to people the way I am’ he thought… ‘People might want to choose to accept me or not… but I will not be taking these decisions for them’ he concluded his considerations.

‘Kacper, we have a surprise for you tonight’ suddenly announced Frycek. ‘What is it?’ he got curious. ‘I can’t tell you… it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore…’ he teased Kacper. ‘You will love it’ said Maria. ‘Come on guys… this is not fair, you need to tell me now’ demanded Kacper. The couple just shook their heads. It was obvious, they would not tell him anything, he needed to be patient.

‘Are you ready Kacper? Dressed up and all?’ Frycek looked impatient. Maria looked at Kacper, and at a shirt that she had offered to him as a present. ‘You look hot baby…’ she decided. ‘You will need to look hot tonight… I tell you Kacper, you will need to look hot’, carried on Frycek.

They were in their car. ‘We are going to a gay club’ finally revealed Maria… ‘Did I hear well… I am not going to any gay club… you are mad!’ Kacper got extremely upset. ‘I have never been in such establishments… it doesn’t feel right’ he went on resisting. ‘Kacper, our friends are already waiting for us there… we are going, and just take it easy’ decided Frycek. Kacper was overpowered, and had no choice but give in. He felt like he was going for an execution… stressed and uncomfortable. It is just because Maria and Frycek were with him made him feel a bit better. ‘If they go there… if they are with me, perhaps it is not going to be that bad…’ he tried to comfort himself.

They entered a very elegant looking bar. It was not full yet. ‘People are just gathering’ noticed Frycek. They sat at the table. Kacper looked around. The place actually looked friendly and hospitable. There were many men and women couples there, but there were groups of mixed people as well. It was all a new territory for Kacper, and despite being over 30 years old, he didn’t know what to expect from a gay bar. His uneasiness was slowly passing. A young waiter came to take their order. They all asked for a glass of wine. When the waiter left, Maria blew a kiss at Kacper. ‘He was good looking, wasn’t he?’ she asked. Kacper didn’t answer anything, just blushed.

‘Felicio… Maria!!!’ someone shouted. A couple of two men approached their table. ‘This is great you are here!’ one of them addressed them. He kissed Maria and shook Frycek’s hand firmly. The other guy followed the suit. ‘And you must be… the special friend from Poland’ he switched into English. He smiled and shook Kacper’s hand. ‘I am Mario… welcome to the dark side…’ he added. They all laughed. ‘Kacper, please do not pay any attention at him’ said the other man. ‘My boyfriend is misbehaving, as always… My name is Fernando, and I will make sure I will protect you from this weirdo…’ he introduced himself, and looked at Mario with lots of affection.

They all engaged themselves in conversations. Frycek explained how they had gotten to know with one another in Angola. Kacper was explaining where he was from, and what he did in life. Fernando talked about his career as a journalist, and Mario was extremely excited to tell Kacper all about his bed and breakfast that he had recently opened in Sitges, near Barcelona. ‘Honey’ he addressed Kacper ‘you will always have a room there for free, and you will love the place’, he invited Kacper. He was a bit shocked by being addressed as honey by another man, but then it was meant to be a night of surprises. ‘Perhaps I should relax a bit more’ he considered.

‘How did you enjoy the evening?’ asked Frycek the following morning during breakfast. ‘It was unusual’ answered Kacper. ‘At start, I felt uneasy, but then it went better later. Mario and Fernando are really nice people!’ reassured Kacper. ‘Why did it feel uneasy?’ asked Frycek. ‘I don’t know… I am just not used to such openness… at least not yet’ he smiled. ‘I am so glad you came over… It doesn’t matter whether you will like to hang around in such places or not, it is important that you know that they exist though, and that there are many people like you – normal persons, who happen to be homosexuals, and like Maria and me, who don’t mind, and more than that, who are friends with just about anyone… as long as they are good human beings, rather than gay or non-gay!’ he said and offered Kacper some coffee.

The last evening experience, the conversation with Frycek forced Kacper to think. He slowly started realising that focusing so much on his homosexuality was actually silly and immature. ‘People happen to be gay, straight, men, women, disabled, black, yellow, white… Some were crazy, some are quiet, some speak languages, while the others are good in singing. Finally some are more likely to be accepting than the others… All of these similarities and differences make us special and unique’ went on through his mind. Kacper realised that there was really no reason to dwell on his sexuality, and think about it so much – the quicker he gets it; the better off he was going to be.

Frycek seemed to have been reading Kacper’s mind. ‘Perhaps, you will meet people that will not accept you because you are gay, or you are disabled Kacper… and although it might hurt a bit… at the end, does it really matter?’ asked Frycek. ‘As long as it is not you hurting other people, you will be fine. You will also learn to be able to take some, what may seem to you, unfair treatment towards you’ he carried on. ‘If this happens, accept it as well. Don’t fight it Kacper… After all, it is not everyone that has been as lucky as you have, to be exposed to differences, the same way, you have been, and not everyone understands that one can enrich oneself from them rather than being threatened by them’ finished Frycek.

Kacper relaxed, and realised how lucky he was to have friends like Maria and Frycek… ‘What would I do without you guys?’ he asked. ‘Thank you for looking after me so well’ he added before going to bed. Tomorrow was another busy day. They were planning to visit Frycek’s family, outside Madrid. Kacper was told that many people were eager to meet a guest from Poland.

PS. Kacper will be flying to Warsaw this weekend.

Unfair presumptions - Post 34

2009-05-17T19:49:00.010+02:00

Kacper walked down the stairs from the Ethiopian Airways Boeing 737 at N’Djamena airport. The heat was overwhelming. ‘Surely, I am back to Chad’, he recognised. ‘Feels like hell again’ he smiled. He looked around the small airport. There were around 5 United Nations planes, and a big cargo jumbo with a logo of some air company that he didn’t know. He was making his way to the arrival’s terminal, a small and simple looking building. A group of Chinese workers, who came on the same flight from Addis Ababa, run frantically towards the entry of the terminal, wanting to clear immigration before other passengers. Kacper made sure that he let all hurrying Asians pass in front of him… He is scarred of disorganised crowds, and he prefers taking time, rather than exposing himself to a danger of being run over by overexcited people.

The Chadian immigration officer proved to be extremely polite. He got interested in Kacper’s passport. ‘You are from Poland’, he stated. ‘You must be coming here to join the Polish military forces working for the United Nations?’ he enquired in English. ‘No sir, I am arriving here to join one of the humanitarian organisations in Abeche’ explained Kacper and added that he was going to remain in Chad just for 5 days. ‘This is a very short visit’, noticed the man. ‘Where will you be going afterwards?’ he asked. Kacper told the officer about his plans of going to Pakistan, and working for benefit of displaced Pakistanis, who flee the ongoing fighting in the Swat Valley. ‘Aren’t you scared of doing it? It seems like, it is a dangerous place these days!’ he expressed his concern. Kacper thought it was funny to hear it from the Chadian official, whose country has been more or less in civil war for years. Just before he made this remark, he bit his tongue and answered: ‘Sure sir, I am scared of insecurity, but this is a nature of my work to go to places, where people need humanitarian assistance’ he added politely instead.

Kacper remembered of his airport conversation later on, when he arrived to his house in N’Djamena. ‘It is interesting to see how relative everything is’ he thought. ‘A Chadian in his home country perceives that Pakistan is unstable, whereas all seemed to be normal for him in Chad’, Kacper went on wondering. ‘Surely, most Poles would consider Chad to be extremely unsafe, something that some Chadians might find offensive and unfair… This goes even further, many Westerners consider Poland to be underdeveloped, the opinion that infuriates most of Kacper’s countrymen’, he kept on in his mind.

One of the main lessons that Kacper had learnt while travelling around the world was not to make assumptions about unknown places and people. There were so many examples that proved him wrong about his beliefs.

Kacper still remembers his greatest lesson on humbleness that he received in Bangladesh some time ago. He is ashamed of himself when he recalls what kind of opinions he had of the country, before he went there. ‘Corrupt, messy, unsafe, inefficient, extremely poor…’ were just a few adjectives that were entering Kacper’s mind, when he thought of Bangladesh. Reality proved so different. Bangladesh and its people charmed him. He loved the country, its colours, people’s friendliness and hospitality, and their commitment to traditions. He found the place simply enchanting. Kacper met many extremely interesting and fascinating Bangladeshis, who challenged his views on his perception of the world, and simply inspired him.

Of course, Bangladesh is very poor in terms of economical values, but this is not at all how the country manifested itself to Kacper, and he will never look at it, as a depressed and hopeless place. As a truth of a matter, Bangladesh, or Bangladeshis literally saved his life – something that Kacper will never forget and will always be grateful for.

‘Sadhan, I will need to go to a toilet, please excuse me for a second’ Kacper informed his Bangladeshi colleague and friend, in a middle of their meeting. Sadhan worked in the same organisation. He was responsible for managing media relations and information management. They were having a meeting, during which they discussed a press release their organisation was going to make to the media, on situation of homeless, who had lost their houses to the cyclone that hit the country months earlier.

He was sitting on a toilet closet and got worried. He felt a scrutinising pain in his tummy. It felt like if someone had just shot at Kacper. The pain was so severe, he thought he was going to faint. ‘Kacper, something terribly wrong is happening to you’ he thought to himself panicking. He pulled himself out of the toilet seat with a greatest difficulty. ‘At least I can stand’ he assessed the situation. Trouble was that his trousers were still down, and he needed to pull them up, before he left the toilet. The task of dressing himself seemed so difficult at the moment that nearly impossible to accomplish. ‘Now or never’ he decided and he bent over to reach for his trousers. He felt like screaming, and sweat instantly appeared on his forehead, neck and back. The pain was intolerable. Kacper slowly and gently tried to fix a belt around his waist, but just a thought of touching his tummy brought discomfort to him…

‘Kacper what is wrong with you?’ asked John, Kacper’s Indian friend, who worked as a chief accountant. He stood in front of him pale and at a point of collapsing. ‘John, I need to go to hospital immediately’ whispered Kacper. He tried to keep his voice down, so he doesn’t attract an unnecessary attention of other colleagues in the office. ‘You want to see the doctor?’ asked John seeking reassurance. ‘No… I think that it is too late for an ordinary doctor, or clinic, I don’t know what is happening, but it seems I need a hospital rather than anything else’ explained Kacper. John didn’t ask any more questions. He helped Kacper sit down, and went to arrange for a car to take him to hospital.

It was George, another accountant from Bangladesh, who escorted Kacper to hospital. ‘Kacper, hang in there’, he nearly begged him. George got worried to hear Kacper screaming loudly, whenever their car hit speed bumps, or potholes. He reached for his mobile and called the hospital, which they were approaching. Kacper, half conscious, heard him instructing the medical staff to be ready in the emergency entrance, with stretches. ‘There is something seriously wrong with him…’ he was explaining.

‘How are you feeling?’ a friendly looking doctor asked Kacper. At that point, he couldn’t answer. He had tears in his eyes, and he obviously seemed to be suffering enormously. ‘Just tell me where it hurts the most’ the doctor added and inserted his stethoscope to his ears. He delicately examined Kacper’s tummy, observing his face carefully, trying to notice, when his touching caused extra discomfort. ‘We will give you some painkillers now, they will start working soon, and you will feel a bit better soon. We will also need to take blood for examination, and we shall send you for a CAT scan immediately after.

‘Sir, you will need to hold the contrast liquid inside you for 3 more minutes’ begged him a young nurse, who helped perform the scan. ‘We really need to finish the examination’ he added. Kacper was literally screaming out of pain. Finally, the nurse detached Kacper from some pipes he was hooked up to, and helped him to a wheelchair. He covered Kacper’s legs with a blanket, and started pushing his wheelchair towards the toilet. The moment they left the examination room, Kacper screamed and that was it… all liquid he tried to hold inside his intestines made his way out of his body. It obviously was extremely messy, and very embarrassing to Kacper. The wheelchair, the floor around them, and indeed Kacper himself was all dirty and smelly… ‘I am so sorry, I am so sorry …’ Kacper kept on repeating. ‘Sir, please do not worry… just take it easy’ the nurse reassured Kacper with a smile. ‘We will take care of this… now, the most important is that you are fine’ he added and asked other colleagues for help to clean Kacper.

Kacper was in his hospital bed. His colleagues from work arrived there as well. The pain was more bearable at that point; the medicaments that he had been injected started working.

The familiar doctor entered the room. ‘Kacper, is that OK that I discuss with you the results of your examinations with your friends around?’ he asked politely. ‘Of course doctor’ Kacper confirmed. ‘They are like my family’ he added. The doctor smiled. ‘I do not have very good news, but please do not worry, you will be fine’ he started. ‘Your bowel seems to have perforated, and your body is being poisoned by what should be inside your intestines’ he continued. ‘We will need to operate you immediately’ he concluded. ‘Yes doctor’ was all what Kacper could say. He was so much in pain that he didn’t care anymore what was going to happen to him. He just wanted that someone does something to stop it. If he was to die; let it be, he wanted to die, but the quicker the better. He just couldn’t imagine suffering for an hour longer.

John enquired about possible complications of the operation, and asked the doctor whether it wasn’t better to evacuate Kacper to Thailand. ‘I understand your worries… I know that you might be concerned that we will not be up to the job to help your friend, but please believe me, we will look after him the way he would be looked after in any other place in the world. Besides, Kacper has got maximum one hour to live, if we don’t do anything now’ the doctor added firmly. ‘Doctor, please, can you please operate me here… I am more than happy that you do the surgery, and I fully trust you!’ Kacper asked with a weak voice. ‘Very well!’, the doctor said ‘We are preparing the operation theatre’ he said and disappeared.

‘You can not drink water now sir… I know you are thirsty, but you can’t drink now’ the nurse told Kacper stroking his hand. Kacper was in a sterile-clean room. There were other beds inside, and some of them were occupied by patients too. The intensive care unit seemed to be working extremely efficiently. There was always someone checking on Kacper, and none of his movements, or noises went unnoticed. ‘The operation was successful Kacper’ explained the nurse, whenever he asked. ‘It is still painful, but you will be just fine’ she went on. ‘Please try to sleep a bit and rest’ she added caringly.

A few days later, Kacper was brought to a regular ward. He was in his private and comfortable room. He seemed to be recovering very fast. One night however, Kacper had a crisis. For no apparent reason, in the middle of the night he started crying. Tears flew on his cheeks, and he sobbed quietly. He was convinced no one could hear him, and he didn’t expect anyone checking on him for another few hours. Suddenly, the door of his room opened. It was too late; Kacper couldn’t pull himself together and hide his tears… The doctor noticed him being miserable at once. Kacper tried stop sobbing, but it didn’t really work, it became even worse, in front of the doctor.

The man just pulled a chair, next to Kacper, and he took Kacper’s hand into his warm hands. He just sat there, saying nothing… It took Kacper another 3; perhaps 4 minutes, before he was ready to stop crying. ‘Is there anything, anything at all that I can do to make you feel better?’ asked the doctor. ‘You already made me feel better doctor. Thank you!’ Kacper answered. ‘Will you sleep now?’ continued the doctor. ‘I will try’ Kacper took a big breath. He felt looked after, and this felt so good. ‘The nurse will come in a moment, and will give you something to help you sleep Kacper’ the doctor smiled. ‘And make sure, you buzz me, when you need me… even if you just want me to sit here for a minute or two’ he tried to encourage him.

‘I think that it was the best medical care I have received for years’ assured Kacper his worried parents, when they collected him at the airport of Krakow. He was back home in Poland, where he was going to stay for a few weeks to recuperate. He was so happy he could enjoy views of familiar landscapes and buildings, when they drove. Kacper knew that he was able to experience seeing his parents, and his own place again only because of professionalism and devotion of his Bangladeshi doctors, nurses and friends. ‘And I thought I was going to a country, where nothing worked properly’ he recalled still slightly embarrassed of himself.

PS. Kacper is watching the news on latest developments in Sri Lanka.

Kacper is babysitting - Post 33

2009-05-15T09:16:00.008+02:00

Kacper’s poor head was confused. Within last 4 days, he has been told 6 times that he would need to go to Pakistan nearly immediately, just to have all these decisions revoked hours later. Finally – and this time it seems that the decision will be implemented - appears that he will be soon going to Islamabad after all.

Kacper will return to Chad over the coming weekend, so he completes his duties in Abeche, packs, and then departs to Poland. He will apply for a Pakistani visa in Warsaw, visit his family in Nowy Sacz, and approximately a week later will be on his way to South Asia. Clare, Kacper’s boss told him, he would be deployed in Pakistan for 6 months.

He watched BBC reports on Pakistan and Sri Lanka in his hotel room in Nairobi, and nearly got depressed. Once again, things were going seriously wrong. War was displacing thousands of people, hundreds are killed and injured, children are orphaned, men and women are widowed, parents burry their kids, and friends suffer the loss of those, who are special to them. ‘Typical pains of war’ – it is difficult not to think… Kacper has experienced it too many times…

As he thinks of his new challenges that his work will surely bring in Islamabad, he is also trying to work out his small strategy how he should be protecting himself from horrors of war. Many humanitarian workers develop very specific coping mechanisms that allow them working even in the most traumatic situations, where they experience nearly unspeakable human suffering. Kacper usual technique is to build some sort of emotional glass wall around him. It allows him seeing things through and understand what is happening around him, but also protects him so that his emotions do not take over his logic, which is important for effective help that people expect in humanitarian situations.

Trouble with such glass walls is that they break sooner or later. Kacper knows, it is usually, when things become less tensed, when he can allow himself being weak and vulnerable. Often, when he returns home to Nowy Sacz, he sometimes has nightmares, and is very distressed. He then calls for help from others to deal with his experiences.

He is going to Pakistan to set up programmes for thousands of people, who flee their homes in Swat Valley, as the Government of Pakistan started heavy military operations against the Taleban in the north of the country. He is not thrilled to be working in the area, where Talebans operate. He has some experience with them already (some of it described in Post 11), and not looking forward to be meeting them again…

‘We have arrived… We will be offloading our lorries’ decided Dan – Kacper’s boss, when they reached last checkpoint in the area controlled by the Talebans. They were about to cross the frontline, and carry on their travel in the Pansheer Valley in the north-eastern part of Afghanistan, where the army of Masoud was in charge. Dan, Kacper and their Afghan colleagues travelled to Pansheer to visit their Therapeutic Feeding Centres, which they run for severely malnourished children. They were carrying with them supplies of medicines, and therapeutic milk – enough to let the centres run for a month.

Crossing the frontline was an interesting, but rather fearsome experience. The humanitarian agencies working on both sides of the frontline managed to negotiate the deal with warring parties to cease fighting for two hours every Tuesday of the week (between 12.00 and 14.00), so that the humanitarian convoys could safely pass from one to the other side.

‘We are here to cross the frontline to go to Pansheer’, Dan informed one of the senior looking Taleban. As Dan had been crossing the frontline on multiple occasions before, he must have made his face familiar to many soldiers there. ‘Welcome Mr. Dan… long time!’ – Dan was greeted by a man wearing black turban, brown jalaba, and black gumboots. He had an impressive long, thick and black beard, which seemed to be quite well looked after. ‘We have just stopped the exchange of fire with the Masoud soldiers, and will be de-mining the passage that you will use’ Taleban informed Dan in fluent English. Kacper was shocked by the triviality that the soldier mentioned about STOPPING FIRE EXCHANGE, and DE-MINING THE PASSAGE… The Taleban just mentioned it like if it was the most normal and natural activity all people do every day, just like drinking tea, or eating biscuits. He didn’t have time to contemplate it for long though. While Taleban and Masoud were de-mining the passage of the frontline, he needed to ensure that the cargo is offloaded from the lorry, and loaded on donkeys, which they would use for crossing the frontline.

‘It seems like we have finished Dan’, said Kacper to his boss. ‘We are ready to cross the frontline’ he added. They had fifteen donkeys that they had rented from the local villagers, who would always gather around checkpoints on Tuesdays, knowing that NGOs would be crossing the frontline, and would need transportation. For many of the villagers, the fees that they collected from NGOs were the only sources of income for their families. Kacper had a strange impression that the donkey men were pleased with the fighting… the frontline seemed to have given them livelihood opportunities. ‘This is so sad’, Kacper remarked.

‘We need to wait, until they de-mine the road Kacper’ instructed Dan. ‘When they finish, they will tell us, and we will need to walk in line one by one, until we reach the other side’ went on Dan. He explained that everyone needed to be very cautious, as only a very narrow path was de-mined, and that no one was allowed to go off the path, no matter what, as they might risk stepping on a mine… ‘Once we will reach the Masoud side, we will offload the donkeys and load lorries, which will wait for us there’ he kept on briefing his colleagues. ‘Easy as that Kacper!’ he finished and smiled, obviously entertained by his Polish colleague’s disbelieving looking face.

They were given a sign to start walking. They had a neutral guide, whom they paid, and who knew where the path was. Kacper’s heart started pouncing more blood, and that gave him some additional energy to walk faster. He didn’t like the idea of being in the minefield, with two warring sides waiting for them to cross, so they could restart shooting at each other, as soon as the humanitarians were out of their ways.

They walked for around 15 minutes. Donkeys were following the guide, and Kacper with his team were at the end of the procession. Kacper noticed some pick-up cars and small lorries with a logo of their organisation. ‘Thank goodness, we are soon leaving this scary place’ Kacper was genuinely pleased. As they were close enough to the other side, some senior Masoud soldier waived at Dan and greeted him. ‘Welcome again! I can see you have brought a new colleague here. Did you bring any cigarettes for me?’ he asked.

They offloaded the donkeys, paid the money to the guide and a representative of animal owners, and loaded their cars with medicines and milk. ‘We need to get out of here as soon as possible’ Dan hurried everyone. ‘They will resume fighting in 20 minutes. It is already 13.40. We definitely don’t want to be here when shooting restarts’ he underlined.

They were already well on their way, when they heard some explosions. ‘Here we go… two hours of peace have finished… until next Tuesday’ Dan tapped Kacper on his shoulder. ‘Were you scarred?’ he asked. ‘A little’ answered Kacper. All Afghan colleagues burst laughing… ‘Kacper, there is nothing to be scared of’ one of them tried to make feel him better. Kacper was not convinced.

Two hours later, tired, dirty, with mud all over their bodies, they reached their first base. It was a compound, where inside were tents, and huts, where children were treated. There was also a small office there. ‘Thank goodness you made it’ they were greeted by the base manager. ‘We were about to run out of the milk for kids… I was worried that it would came too late’ he said.

Kacper entered the room, where children played. One toddler, interested in a visitor approached him and sat on his laps. He rested his little head on Kacper’s shoulder and just sat there, obviously enjoying the company of his new friend. Kacper started thinking of the life of the kid. ‘What future will he have? Is he going to have at least a fraction of normality, which kids enjoy in peaceful countries? Will he ever be able to live his dreams?’ – all these questions were storming his mind. Kacper was bothered he couldn’t find answers, he just hoped that life, with its abilities to write the most amazing stories has prepared something special and beautiful for the little boy, who was ready for his short afternoon nap.

PS. Kacper is excited to meet his Ethiopian friends a day after tomorrow.

The world has come to Nowy Sacz - Post 32

2009-05-13T12:00:00.003+02:00

‘We will really need to know your guest’s birth of date, if we are to issue him this invitation’ a friendly clerk informed Kacper’s mother, who was in the town hall of Nowy Sacz, arranging documents allowing Kacper’s guest obtain a visa to Poland. ‘But Madam, my son told me very clearly that they do not know this birth of date… you see, Kacper, I mean my son is in Sudan now, and it is not easy to contact him, but I will try. I am quite certain though, he will tell me the same thing again… there is no birth day, his friend does not know his own birth date!’ she explained patiently. ‘How is it possible not to know when you were born?’ the clerk got suspicious. ‘You see, many people in Africa just don’t know these things, they were never registered at their birth’ instructed mum, really proud of herself, how knowledgeable she was on Africa. ‘This is unbelievable… What are we going to write in the application?’ wondered the woman, clearly wanting to help. ‘I really would like that we issue this invitation for your son’s friend’ she went on. ‘Approximately, how old is that guy?’ the clerk took an initiative. ‘I guess, around my son’s age… thirty something…’ answered mum. ‘Very well… Mr. Kariuki Masava, the citizen of Kenya, born… 1^st January 1971’ she inserted in the form. ‘Here we go, we have the birth date: 1^st January 1971!’ she concluded happily and pleased with herself. ‘Just make sure to tell your son that they use the same birth date, when they use this invitation, for the visa application in the embassy in Kenya’ she instructed.

Kacper’s mother surely was becoming an immigration expert. With Kacper travelling all over the world, he always invited friends he had met to visit him and his family in Nowy Sacz. Initially, getting visas was not that complicated, but when Poland joined the Schengen Treaty, getting visas for some of people coming from many African and Asian countries became annoyingly difficult. Having said that, Kacper and his mother always succeeded getting all administrative work sorted, so their guests could come over.

The visits became a small tradition of Kacper’s family. They hosted Kacper’s friends literally from all continents of the globe, coming from all sorts of backgrounds, ethnic or cultural origins. Sometimes his guests came on their own, at times there were two, or three arriving in a same time, and twice or trice there were groups of up to ten people coming visiting his hometown. It was always Kacper’s mother, who arranged most of logistical details for their visits, and she was always the one, who suggested what the visitors might like to see in southern Poland, or northern Slovakia (in Poland, Kacper and his family live in a small town, literally on the border with Slovakia). Kacper’s older brother, who lives in the same town, also got drawn into these visits. Since he had a prospering business, and liked the idea of Kacper bringing his unusual friends, he was happy to support financially some of them, who wouldn’t be able to afford visiting Poland on their own.

Kacper’s guests became famous in the whole neighbourhood, and beyond. Some of Kacper’s Polish acquaintances, who teach in local schools, always try making sure that whenever he, and his friends are around, they give students lessons and presentations on countries of their origin, or talked about their work and lives.

Some of such visits actually ended up in very interesting projects, where for example a school of Kacper’s nephew entered some kind of cooperation with one of the primary schools in Madrid, from where one of his friends came. On another occasion, the kids of a local high school arranged an exhibition of African art in Nowy Sacz, and collected money to buy a tractor to one of the rural communities in northern Kenya. They were so successful that there was enough money to buy a tractor, and a substantial amount of seeds that the Kenyan villagers wanted to plant in their fields.

‘Hungry…? Eat more…’ Kacper’s mother usually tried to ensure that her foreign guests were not hungry, while in her house. She actually had an amazing ability of communication. Although, she only knows around 20 words in English altogether, she somehow manages to communicate with everyone, and this is without any assistance on Kacper’s part. She just talks, uses her body language, or even draws pictures when necessary. His dad on the other hand always appears to be slightly overwhelmed and shy. He would not address anyone directly, and would only ask questions either through Kacper, or his wife, who didn’t mind finding out anything that he might want to know. He would however try to show his hospitability by offering everyone chocolate that he kept in his drawer in the kitchen.

‘ Mr. Kacper Szczebrzeszczyk, awaiting for a visitor from Indonesia is kindly requested to contact the police counter in the arrival’s hall’, he heard an announcement at the Krakow Airport. ‘What is happening?’ he got slightly worried, and rushed to the airport police station. ‘Good day Sir’ Kacper greeted a friendly looking policewoman. ‘I believe that you were looking for me’ he went on and explained who he was. ‘Yes, you are expecting a visitor called Cut Suriani, right?’ she asked. ‘Yes, that is correct, is there a problem?’ enquired Kacper. ‘No, she is OK, and she has just arrived on a flight from London, nothing to worry about. We were just wondering how you got to know each other, and what the purpose of her trip to Poland was… would you mind telling us’, the police officer added. ‘Not at all…’ answered Kacper and explained that he knows Cut from one of his courses, which he did when he was younger. He also mentioned that he was arranging a reunion of some of his friends in his native Nowy Sacz, and that the remaining friends were all coming from different parts of the world within next 10 hours. ‘Cut is a first of my guests’ he finished. ‘What do you mean, you are having 10 people, each coming from a different country… and all will be staying at your home in Nowy Sacz?’ asked the officer rather suspiciously. ‘Well, 5 will stay at my brother’s house…’ he tried to explain. ‘Where are the other people from?’ she demanded. ‘Britain, Switzerland, Canada, Kenya, Sri Lanka…’ Kacper went on listing.

Another officer asked Kacper precisely the same questions as the policewoman had done. ‘And what will you be doing with all of these people here?’ wanted to know the guy. ‘Where did you get to know each other?’ he went on curiously. ‘You need to understand that we find it a bit strange that someone from a small town in southern Poland arranges a reunion for friends from 3 continents that he had allegedly met, when travelling himself’ added the policeman. ‘It will just take 30 minutes, but we need to run some checks… please bear with us… and, may I have your National Identity Card, please’, he demanded politely but firmly.

‘You have got tough immigration’ smiled Cut when they finally met after another 1 hour of waiting. ‘I am so sorry…’ said Kacper and hugged his dear friend. ‘No worries Kacper, they were actually friendly, and they even offered me some tea’ she explained. ‘Gee… I hope, we will not have the same nightmare when the others arrive’ said Kacper somehow worried.

The colourful group travelled around Poland and Slovakia in a small bus that Kacper had rented for a week. They enjoyed admiring splendours of ancient Krakow, visiting funky Zakopane, Kacper hometown’s superb ethnographical museum, walking and hiking in the Tatra Mountains. They pampered themselves in the spas of Bardejov, a picturesque Slovak town, and went rafting on Dunajec River. They had fun, and being colourful, and interesting crowd, they also attracted a bit of attention from curious locals.

The guests have all left, and so did Kacper, for his next deployment to Bangladesh. He was in Dhaka, having his lunch break, when his mother called. ‘Kacper… guess what?’ she started. As Kacper couldn’t guess, she explained that last Sunday, she went to church, and the priest apparently made a remark on Kacper’s international guests. ‘We need to be open, and we need to learn from the others… Perhaps, we should all look how some members of our community do it. We all know Kacper, and we all know how much he cherishes the humanity and people he meets on his way… We even have opportunities to see it ourselves, when his guests arrive to visit our small community. Shouldn’t we all be more like Kacper in our daily lives, and open to the others, who perhaps are slightly different than us?’ the priest explained.

Kacper was puzzled, but also glad that his friends helped him to challenge his own people on how they perceived the world. As he was thinking of it, he already started preparing next visit home… his friends would come along of course!

PS. Kacper is following Indian elections.

Canadian aunt - Post 31

2009-05-11T19:06:00.010+02:00

‘But Kacper, this is very dangerous out there, and I will be so worried, if you travel on your own…’ his aunt tried to convince him once again, not to leave Montreal, and definitely talk him out of his idea of travelling to Vancouver by bus. ‘Auntie Marysia…’ Kacper addressed her sweetly. ‘I really will be fine… This is why I came to Canada in a first place – to explore!’ he tried to reassure her. ‘I promise, I will call you every day, auntie’ Kacper concluded. He suspected that his aunt was not concerned about his safety so much, but just wanted him around – she seemed to have enjoyed Kacper’s company for last two weeks a lot. ‘Okey, darling’ she went on, and made him promise that he would return to Montreal early enough, so he could spend some more time with her, before he flying back to Warsaw.

At the time, when Kacper visited Canada, auntie Marysia was already well over 60 years of age. Kacper liked her a lot – she had a heart of gold. He quickly realised that she was a bit of a show off, , but really she was a very loving woman, and she was ready to sacrifice for the others – something that Kacper admired and respected.

Auntie Marysia was one of these women that everyone had to notice. She looked a bit peculiar, or even funny, but the way she looked, somehow suited her so well. She was a big person. She must have been well over 110 kg. She was a woman, who always made sure to look fancy. She loved sewing, and would create for herself a new dress every week.

Her dresses, like Auntie Marysia herself were quite peculiar. They would usually be in some bright colours, and they would always have some kind of flower decorations attached to them – usually around the breast area. Auntie Marysia had huge breasts, and she made sure everyone noticed. Her dresses always had a deep cut, exposing her neck and upper parts of her chest – which were then decorated with literally kilograms of gold chains and necklaces. Her dresses were always very short, always finished above her knees. ‘This is to make sure that all these men have something to look at’ she would jovially and shamelessly tell her young, and slightly shocked guest from Poland.

Obviously she always wore lots of make-up and very expensive perfumes and high-heeled shoes. Her shoes amazed Kacper. ‘How this older, and not very able woman is managing walking on those…’ he wondered looking at her aunt supporting herself with a walking stick.

Kacper’s aunt was a heartbreaker. She married 6 times, and she outlived all of her husbands… ‘She actually managed to be widowed 6 times!’ thought Kacper to himself, trying to imagine that this must have raised some suspicions in her neighbourhood. Her last husband had passed away a year before Kacper’s arrival to Canada. ‘We didn’t have sex…’ she instructed Kacper. ‘He was too old for it… I liked him a lot though – he cooked these fantastic Ukrainian pierogis’ she explained to Kacper, who was overwhelmed with her honesty. ‘He was my second Ukrainian’ she smiled. ‘The first one: Jozek, drunk too much… and drunk himself to death… God save his poor soul’ she added, while shaking her head. ‘He loved me so much though, and he made sure that I wouldn’t suffer poverty, when he is gone… God save his poor soul…’ she pointed at a picture on a wall of a rather handsome man in his fifties. ‘This is my Jozek’ she smiled, and her eyes became slightly watery. ‘Am I going to marry again Kacper?’ she asked without waiting for an answer. ‘Do you think that men would still want me?’ she presisted. ‘Of course Auntie’ said Kacper reassuringly. ‘Look at you, you look so great, and you are such a good person Auntie Marysia… You will still have many husbands’ said Kacper, not believing his own words. ‘You think so? You are my kid!’ she embraced Kacper pleased with what she had just heard. ‘When we go to church next Sunday, I will show you, whom I like! He has just widowed…’ aunty Marysia’s face blushed with excitement.

She first came to Canada nearly 30 years ago. She came over alone, leaving her 4 children and her husband back in Poland. ‘We were so poor Kacper…’ she paused and started crying. ‘We often didn’t have anything to put on plates of my children… I had to come here, I had no choice Kacper’ she was obviously moved. ‘Then when I was already here, my Stasiek died there in Poland… how could he have done it to me?’ she asked. ‘I tell you Kacper, he was the only man, I really, really loved… the others were friends, but Stasiek was the only one, I loved’ she stated proudly.

She had very hard beginning in her new country. ‘I was still so beautiful Kacper’ and explained how she worked over 12 hours a day, how she used to sew curtains and dresses to some Jewish clients. ‘All what I wanted was save enough to bring my children here’ she explained. ‘And I did, and I educated them all Kacper – all four of them have good jobs today’ she remarked proudly. ‘They don’t appreciate it though’ her voice started breaking. ‘They just do not know, how much I needed to work to provide for them’ auntie Marysia poured some tea into Kacper’s mug. ‘Now, they even don’t visit me that often here… They are not interested to know how I am…’ she started crying.

‘I once worked in a factory’ she started her next story. ‘It was a Jewish factory, which produced socks and stockings…’ she carried on and told Kacper how she was abused there, by an old man, who liked her, but whom she didn’t want to be involved with. ‘I didn’t speak the language, and he told me that if I don’t sleep with him, he would report me to police’ she reached for a handkerchief and wiped her tears. ‘What could I do? I had no choice Kacper… Oh, I suffered so much, my child, so much…’ she added dramatically.

‘Auntie, but why don’t you just return to Poland now?’ asked Kacper. ‘You have got your pension, you will be able to live well on it there’ he tried to encourage her. ‘Darling, I would love it, but I also want to be next to my children… Besides, I am too old to move again… I am too old…’ she concluded.

‘Mum’ shouted Kacper. ‘We need to hurry, we will be late at the airport’ he urged her and started an engine of his car. They were going to Krakow to pick up Auntie Marysia, who finally in the summer of 2008 – being a 75 years old woman decided to move to her newly acquired house in the mountains on the border with Slovakia.

Auntie Marysia was pushed out on her wheelchair to the arrivals terminal. ‘Darlings, I had this really handsome young man who sat next to me in the plane…’ she greeted Kacper and his mum. They all laughed. ‘This woman will never change’ Kacper thought to himself. Auntie looked at them and suddenly her mood changed. ‘Darlings, I finally came home, I came here to die’ and she hugged them both thanking for picking her at the airport.

PS. Kacper has talked to his boss and discovered that he might be sent to Pakistan.

Emerging donors - Post 30

2009-05-10T21:40:00.015+02:00

He took two Paracetamol tablets, and swallowed them with water. He felt tired, and it seemed like his fever was getting higher again. Kacper thought it was all strange! He would wake up, feeling really well, to have things getting worse around 4 o’clock and reach the peak of high temperature around 8 in the evening. This pattern has been going on for last 6 days - that is, since his arrival to Kenya. He decided, he would make an appointment for a consultation with a doctor tomorrow. Kacper has learnt a hard way that he shouldn’t ignore symptoms and signs that his body sends. ‘Yes, I need a doctor tomorrow’ he reassured himself.

Except his not-so-good physical state, things are actually working out great in Kenya. Most importantly, fighting in Chad seems to be easing, and Kacper hopes that tomorrow, he would be able to agree with Bernard about when he would travel to N’Djamena and Abeche. Kacper enjoyed his time in Kenya, but also wanted to get on with his job and finish his deployment in Chad, as soon as possible. It definitely was time to go back to Abeche!

Kacper’s weekend in Kenya was extremely social. He met with two of his best friends, who happened to be in Nairobi: Veronica, and Claire – both Canadian. Veronica works in South Sudan, where she manages the country programme for his previous organisation (this is also where they first met), whereas Claire is one of the former Globals from his present organisation. She quit her job some months ago, as she found a new opportunity with ECHO – European Commission Humanitarian Office (it was possible for her to do so, as she holds a British/EU passport). Claire’s duty station will be Nairobi, and she has just arrived to the country to start her induction to the new job.

When talking to Claire, naturally they discussed of new challenges in her ECHO’s work. They had some fascinating conversations on relations between funding agencies, and implementing organisations – like Kacper’s, on how their saw their respective agencies contributing to poverty reduction, or preparedness to catastrophes.

At one point, Claire started convincing Kacper to apply for a job with her new employer. ‘Your field experience, and your practical knowledge would be fantastic for ECHO to have’ she sounded really excited. ‘Needless to say that working for ECHO would be so good for your health… You wouldn’t need to be based in difficult places…’ she carried on. ‘Finally, once based in one place, you will be able to sort your love life out at last… and that is something that you cannot ignore, Kacper!’ she concluded and smiled at him. Claire knew him very well, and Kacper recognised she was right. She voiced what he had had in mind for quite some time now.

It wasn’t a first time, when Kacper wondered about working for donor agencies, or on fundraising projects. Growing wealth of citizens of Central European countries, combined with political changes that many of these places underwent, put Czech Republic, Slovenia, or Poland on a map of so called Emerging Donors, rather than aid recipients. This creates an interesting opportunity for many international humanitarian actors to fundraise in this part of Europe for their projects worldwide. However, as most people don’t perceive Central Europe, as a place of potential income, there is still a considerable mistrust in the idea - Kacper often noticed when he shares his opinions on this particular issue.

Kacper likes to think that the economical situation of the region, together with its relative lack of experience in international aid creates a golden opportunity, which he would like to turn into a project! Kacper would like helping some international agencies establishing themselves, say in Poland, so they could chip in to the growing resources there on one side, and make the societies of Central Europe more aware and educated about global poverty or humanitarian catastrophes on the other side. Kacper had a very egoistic agenda as well… As Claire pointed out, he was trying to find himself a new role, which would allow him use some of his experience, knowledge, and passion, as well as make his life a bit easier, when it comes to his physical limitations.

He is convinced that opening an office of an international humanitarian agency in Warsaw, Krakow, Prague, Bratislava, or Budapest would not only be beneficial for the agency itself, but would trigger much needed discussions in Central Europe about the state of the world and its profound problems – something that he thought is still not done sufficiently. He hoped that presence of international humanitarian agencies would equip the citizens with tools and information, which they could then use for pressuring their own governments to take serious actions towards tackling important problems that the humanity face… ‘Problems that we people have responsibility to be aware of’ he often remarked.

In recent years, Kacper studied involvement of Central European societies in international affairs, many times. His findings and learning were fascinating, to say the least. For a first time in a history, countries like Hungary, Slovakia, Poland, Czech Republic or the Baltic States eventually became wealthy enough to be able to share their resources with people, who are less fortunate. It was a new situation for these societies, which often still look at themselves as ‘poor cousins’ of their Western European peers. Although, this perception is slowly changing, not yet many people realise that they are fortunate to live in societies, which are actually wealthy by world standards, and offer opportunities that 75% of citizens of the world don’t have any access to.

What was encouraging however, Kacper started meeting more and more ordinary people, celebrities, as well as politicians, who begin talking about Paying Back Time. ‘We used to receive so much help from many countries in the world throughout years… We used to receive aid that helped us to get through the toughest moments of our recent history, and help us transform Poland from being dirt poor, to a country of prosperity… Now it is time for us to start helping the others… It is a PAY BACK TIME’ Kacper often heard on Polish media. ‘People in Poland, or Slovakia are ready to be involved and to help… they just need to be given opportunities to do so!’ Kacper often eagerly concluded his conversations with his colleagues.

Although, Kacper is aware that questions of poverty are extremely complicated, and its eradication is complex, and solutions of one country may not be useful in another one, he is in the same time convinced that right governance, thoughtful investment, development of education systems can make wonders and real differences for ordinary people. ‘Central Europe, South Korea, Malaysia or Singapore are all examples of it’ he thought to himself, and started working out the details of his project to be.

PS. Kacper is reading a report on Chad’s latest developments on security.

Forgotten conflicts - Post 29

2009-05-08T13:09:00.016+02:00

‘It is a very unusual evacuation’ thought Kacper to himself. Actually, he wasn’t being evacuated at all; he was merely not being allowed to return to Chad, until fighting eased. All the trouble in the country happened when he was gone to Kenya and resulted with him having a prolonged stay in Nairobi.

He just opened and email from Marco, who still is Abeche, along with the others from his organisation. What Kacper read, made him worried. Marco didn’t seem optimistic. In fact, Kacper found his email was slightly disturbing and alarming.

‘Poor guys’, reflected Kacper. ‘Thank goodness, Bernard is there, with all of them’ he analysed. Bernard has loads of security management experience, and Kacper trusted, he would do anything what is possible in human nature to keep everyone out of trouble. ‘Then, a war will always be a war – you can’t always predict everything’, he thought of his own experiences. Kacper was realising, how truthful one of Bernard’s wisdoms was. ‘The only certain thing in Chad is uncertainty’, he told Kacper, when he arrived to the country. This definitely seemed to be true. Still a week ago, he was in Chad, and there were few indicators, things might go wrong, and today partial evacuations are organised, and the whole team is preparing for a possible complete relocation from the country! ‘This is madness!’ went on Kacper worryingly.

When security problems, similar to those in Eastern Chad occur, naturally Kacper first starts thinking of safety of people that he knows. They usually happen to be aid workers themselves. However, he realises well that most of the time, the humanitarians manage to get through the crisis unhurt – sometimes scared and shaken, but keeping their physical integrity. People, who suffer the most, people who pay the highest bill for the military conflicts are always the CIVILIANS. It is them, who are attacked, raped, prosecuted, looted, and often killed. They do not have passports, and whole logistical machinery, which allow the humanitarians flee with cars, boats, planes or helicopters when things get really bad. The civilians are truly defenceless!

Wars made Kacper evacuate quite a few times in his career. Each relocation he went through was traumatic. What the evacuations inflict and is always very difficult to deal with is a realisation that you would leave people behind you. There were other difficult decisions to make as well, but leaving people you work with, people that are your friends, people you meet every day on streets is simply heart breaking, and nearly unbearable.

Security officers taking decisions to relocate bear a phenomenal stress and burden on them. Evacuations disrupt often life saving activities and frequently have very serious political consequences (authorities, rebels, or militias get upset with you). Your leaving often may make communities, where you work even more vulnerable to attacks, prosecutions, and suffering. Then, evacuations usually confront you with your own fears, and with fears and stress of staff reporting to you. You bear a responsibility of bringing your personnel to safety. You therefore need to take some tough decisions, even if these are not popular, even if you don’t like them yourself. ‘Being responsible for security management is definitely not my favourite task’, Kacper concluded his considerations.

Years ago, when Kacper worked in Bentiu of Unity State in Sudan, he learnt how cruel a war could be to civilians. For days, their Therapeutic Feeding Centre (TFC) was experiencing arrival of very large number of people, especially women with children, who often were so malnourished that could hardly walk. Most were only hours from extinction. In fact, there were many kids, who arrived too late, and nothing more could be done to save them. Kacper remembers the mothers reporting the increased military activities in villages around. It is their husbands and sons, who told them to flee to Bentiu – knowing they could be helped there, while they were staying behind to protect their homes and little livestock they had left.

Kacper was worried. It seemed like the frontline was coming towards Bentiu. It was logical. Bentiu was an important administration governmental base, and after all, it was the area where most oil excavation was taking place. Who had control over Bentiu, had control over the money!

At that time, Paulino Matip – a nearly legendary warlord happened to be allied with the governmental forces. His troops were preparing for something major. It was obvious. More and more militiamen, along with official military soldiers were coming to the town, preparing for its defence.

Like all militias in Sudan, also Paulino’s one extended its human capacity through so called ‘forced recruitments’. They used to choose a village, surrounded it tightly, making sure no one could leave, and visited each and every house. They picked all boys, who looked older than 14 years old – no exception – they were to become Paulino’s servants. Brothers, sons, and fathers were brutally removed from wives', mothers’, or sisters’ arms. There was always despair and screaming. Some people tried hiding, those who were found, in a best-case scenario were beaten and arrested, sometimes, they were also killed. The forced recruitment victims were chained to one another and escorted to one of the military camps, where they were to become soldiers. Sometimes they needed to walk for days. They did so with little or no food and water, they walked in unbearably hot sun, all wondering what would happen to them, all worrying whether they would ever see their loved ones again. For many it was the last journey of their lives. They died on the way from exhaustion and stress. Kacper sometimes met such convoys of these unfortunate men. It was a horrific scene. He realised, he was just watching people who were enslaved – enslaved to become dehumanised killing machines!

Kacper’s organisation had a deal with Paulino’s militia. He promised he would not recruit men nurses working for the organisation’s TFC. Paulino recognised that it was difficult for Kacper’s organisation to train new nurses each time, his militia had a need for new soldiers. It was also a way for Paulino to show to the population of Bentiu, how humanitarian at heart he was, and how much he cared for people.

Things were becoming more tensed. Matip decided to carry out one of his recruitments in Bentiu itself. That was perceived to be a desperate move. Paulino didn’t want to anger inhabitants of the town, where he was based. The militias must have had plenty of casualties in the frontline, if boys and men of Bentiu needed to be included in the forces.

Kacper will never forget that recruitment. People around the TFC screamed and cried. Sometimes, gunshots were heard. Tens of young men were chained and gathered in a large square – all resigned and aware that their lives would change forever.

‘Kacper, Kacper…’ he was called by one of the drivers. ‘Eleven of our nurses were recruited to the militia’ he came running with tears in his eyes. ‘Who are the nurses?’ asked Kacper nervously. ‘Prepare the name list… we are going to Paulino’ decided Kacper. ‘But Kacper… this might be dangerous now…’ the driver noticed, hoping that Kacper wouldn’t change his mind. ‘We will go now!’ insisted Kacper.

‘Good day, sir’ said Kacper politely to the man, who appeared to be a guard protecting an entrance to the headquarter, where Matip lived and worked. ‘We are coming to see Mr. Paulino Matip’ went on Kacper. ‘Would you be able to help us arranging an appointment’ he asked finally. The guy looked at Kacper disrespectfully. His eyes were red, and he smelled of alcohol. ‘What you wanna discuss?’ he threw in surprising good English. ‘We have got a concern over our staff that you have just recruited’ answered Kacper. ‘Phew…’ the guard seemed to be rather unimpressed. Kacper definitely didn’t like a fact of talking to a drunkard with a machine gun… There was no other way to get through to Matip though.

‘Paulino will not see you know. Come tomorrow!’ he ordered, after he had been gone for 15 minutes. ‘Please do tell Mr. Matip that we are not leaving, until he sees us, we will stay here as long as necessary’ went on Kacper, playing tough. The guard was annoyed with the persistence of a silly foreigner, but said nothing and disappeared again. He came back after a while and told Kacper he could enter. ‘Alone… your driver, and assistant will wait with me’ he prevented them from entering.

Kacper walked through a big fenced yard. Hundreds of semi-naked men were standing in lines, with their hands behind their heads. All seemed exhausted, and no one spoke a word. His heart nearly stopped beating. ‘I can’t beak… I can’t start crying now’ he tried to pull himself together.

‘You are a manager of the TFC?’ asked a man, who looked like in his 50’ies. He was well nourished, nearly fat, dressed in a brownish uniform, military boots, and a green beret. He wore dark sunglasses, and smoked a cigarette, while talking to Kacper. His face was unfriendly, and tensed. ‘What do you want from me?’ he demanded from Kacper. ‘Sir, I came here to ask you for release of staff members of our TFC’ demanded Kacper politely, but firmly. ‘We have none of your staff...’ went on Paulino. Kacper reached his pocket and opened a neatly typed paper with names on it. ‘Those are the names’, Kacper handed a list to Paulino. He took it, looked at it, and ostensibly tore into pieces in front of Kacper. ‘I will not leave without these men’ said Kacper. Paulino laughed rather amused. ‘What will you do? Take them by force?’ he enquired annoyed.

‘Sir… I am not a military man. I am just here to help people that need to be helped. Sir, you know as well as I do that our TFC saves lives of hundreds of children every week. We can’t do it without our staff’, explained Kacper. ‘I do not know what to say, how to convince you, sir… All I know is that we had a deal, and it seems to me that our deal is broken, and our staff members are here, instead of assisting dying people… If you wish me to beg you for their release, I will happily do so, sir. We need these men, you need to understand… Please!’ he concluded emotionally. Kacper knew that he had tears in his eyes, but he didn’t care anymore. Paulino looked at him. His face was like a stone. ‘Leave this compound now, and do not come back!’ he demanded.

Kacper sat in his office, resigned and defeated. His head was still spinning from emotion. ‘God, this is so unfair’ he thought. ‘What am I going to do now?’ he wondered. The situation wasn’t good. Eleven nurses, from his organisation were gone, he needed to think of evacuation for some international staff members, and of a strategy, how they were going to make it through possible fighting.

‘Mr. Kacper… Mr. Kacper!!!’ the driver came running towards him. ‘They are arriving…’ he exclaimed, rather happily. ‘Who is coming?’ enquired Kacper impatiently. ‘Our nurses are coming… from Paulino!’ he shouted. Kacper run out of his office hut… the gates of the compound were just opening, and one by one ELEVEN men were entering the yard in front of the TFC. All tired and still scared, but obviously happy. They surrounded Kacper, and hugged him. Kacper was overjoyed and moved. ‘They were safe, at least for now’ he thought with relief. ‘This is a letter for you’ one of them handed a brown envelop to Kacper.

He opened it and read:

Dear Sir,

Here are the staff members of your TFC. We will not be recruiting your personnel again.

Paulino Matip

Kacper looked at it again, and slowly, but decisively tore it into pieces. ‘Welcome back!’ he told the boys. ‘There is work to be done!’ he added.

Soon after, first international staff members were leaving Bentiu for Khartoum. Kacper with his boss in the capital had decided, it was a good idea to reduce some personnel presence, so that if real trouble came, there were fewer people to worry about.

The following days brought additional fighting not far from the town. The new recruits from Paulino’s militia, as well as soldiers from the official army stopped the rebels from coming to the town. Kacper could call-off the full evacuation for now, and allow other staff, who had previously left to return.

They later learnt, only that one fight around Bentiu claimed around 100 people lives. Many more were badly injured and left disabled. Most of those who died were just boys and young men, from whom, one day, the right to be happy, was brutally taken away. They died, being forced to defend somebody’s power, money and political interests.

Kacper was relieved things were returning to its normal but so confused and nearly shattered by his recent experiences. He felt so helpless again… as he often did before in Sudan.

Ave Maria… started flowing into Kacper’s ears from his laptop computer that evening. It was calming and relaxing. ‘May Angels look after you, wherever you are guys’ thought Kacper about the boys, who had just lost their lives…

PS. Kacper is excited to meet his friend from Canada tomorrow!

The Kenyan Dream - Post 28

2009-05-06T10:06:00.006+02:00

The morning sun, making its way through a curtain, which was not properly closed, woke Kacper up. He felt well. His pain that he had last night disappeared with a combination of a painkiller and a good night’s sleep. He looked at the rose that he had received from Joyce yesterday, and smiled.

Nairobi never fails surprising Kacper. He feels good in the capital of Kenya. He likes its residents, its very cosmopolitan feeling, its green spaces, its cosy neighbourhood, and even its slightly messy but bustling city centre. Kacper is rarely bored here. There are frequently surprising events and happenings that he experiences in the city.

He remembers in 2005, he met one of the famous Polish princesses here, whose father needed to flee Poland, when the communists took over power. It was not a good thing to be a royalty in those days, so he was forced to leave for safety to the United Kingdom. As he apparently was an adventurous man, he soon decided to take his family to Nairobi, and settled in Kenya. His three little daughters accompanied him. Today, one of the daughters lives in Canada; the other one went back to the United Kingdom, while the oldest one still lived in Kenya.

She was a real aristocracy, one could tell right after exchanging just a few sentences with her. Kacper loved the way she spoke Polish. When they conversed together, he had a feeling to have moved back in time, and becoming a student in some kind of a boarding school for wealthy boys in Warsaw of 1920’ies.

‘I might have Polish, British, and Swedish passports, but above all I am Kenyan’, she informed Kacper, who was becoming more charmed with each sentence he heard from her mouth. ‘Kenya is a country that accepted me, gave me education, and brought me up’ she went on. ‘I therefore consider that most of my civic responsibilities I owe to this nation’, she concluded, while elegantly serving Kacper tea to his porcelain cup.

The Princess had an amazing life. As a young woman, she joined a charity, which was helping the poorest inhabitants of Nairobi. She worked in a clinic and cared for the ill and destitute. In the same time, she started her own business, which today has grown to be the biggest insurance company in Eastern Africa. In her 20’ies she married to the Ambassador of Sweden to Kenya (hence her Swedish passport), who later died in a plane crash. Some years later, she opened her own foundation, helping Kenyans living with HIV and AIDS. She visits Poland regularly, mainly to look after the palace that her family reclaimed in eastern part of the country, after the communism fell. She and her two sisters buried their father there in 2006, after he had died of a heart attack in Nairobi. Whenever Kacper thought of the Princess, he couldn’t help associating her with the Danish Baroness Karen Blixen, whose story, the whole world knows from her own Out of Africa. ‘What a splendid resemblance’ Kacper thought.

Kacper was on his way to the Nakumat Junction shopping centre, a modern and neat establishment with a supermarket, fine shops and restaurants. He wanted to stock up with basic goods like toothpaste, shampoos, and groceries for him and his friends in Chad. Some of these luxuries are not available there. He was even more excited, as he was to meet Bob too! Bob is his English friend; he worked with in Indonesia during the tsunami response. Funnily, he was passing through Nairobi in the same time, and had looked up Kacper’s status on his Facebook to find out that they were both in the same city!

Kacper handed a note of 1000 shillings to a cab driver and agreed that he would need a pick up in three hours. He went to a cash dispenser, withdrew some more money, and headed towards a supermarket. He entered an elegant hall leading into it, and looked at woman, who admired something at one of a shop displays. ‘Hang on a second’ he thought. ‘She looks familiar… this long, reddish her, this thin, nearly skinny body… this must be Sally!’ went through his mind. He shouted her name out so loudly that half of the hall looked at him. Sally looked back quite scared, not understanding what was happening. Slowly a disbelieving smile arrived to her face. ‘Kacper?’ she appeared quite shocked. ‘What are you doing here?’ she carried on. ‘Well, I should ask you the same… I thought you were still in Australia’, said Kacper not believing his own eyes.

Sally hugged Kacper and explained to him that she had arrived to Nairobi a day before, and in fact, was already based in South Sudan, where she worked. She was just visiting Nairobi for a conference with her colleagues. ‘Now look Sally, you are not going to believe it, but I am meeting Bob in a moment for coffee… You need to join us, we will have an Indonesian reunion in Nairobi!’ he explained. ‘Oh my God… Bob is here as well?’ she was even more surprised. Bob and Kacper both reported to Sally, when they worked in Indonesia. It just seemed quite unbelievable that three of them happened to be in Nairobi in the same time 3 years after, more so, as none of them expected the others to be there, and they all managed to miraculously bump at each other, in the city of quite a few million of people!

They were sitting, and catching up with their lives. Kacper felt at ease and didn’t feel that it was already three years that they haven’t met. They talked and laughed like in old good times. That was definitely a good start of his stay in Nairobi… Kacper needed to leave the two. He was about to meet for lunch with Joyce. He kissed Sally, hugged Bob, made them promise they would keep in touch and dashed off to a neighbouring restaurant to meet his Kenyan friend.

As usual, Joyce arrived in time. She looked beautiful, and her warm smile greeted Kacper from far away. She wore a tasteful African dress, and held a rose in her hand. ‘Kacper!’ she screamed, the moment, she noticed him. ‘This is for you…’ she handed her flower to him. ‘But Joyce, I am not used to receive flowers from beautiful women like you’ he told her charmingly. Joyce seemed pleased with the compliment. ‘You can accept it from me, can’t you?’ she insisted.

Kacper absolutely admired Joyce, and was so proud of her. They first met around 5 years ago. At that time, Kacper was working for his previous organisation, and was managing the programmes of South Sudan from his Nairobi office. Joyce worked in the house where he lived. She cleaned and cooked for him and his colleagues.

The moment Kacper met Joyce, he knew she was special! She always smiled, was in a good mood, punctual, disciplined, and hard working. As she was not a professional cook, she made sure she trained herself not to disappoint anyone, which she never did. Joyce used to bring cookbooks and experiment new dishes. Somehow, they always turned out delicious, and they were probably some best-fed people in the city. Kacper remembers Joyce surveying people in the house, and asking them, what culinary desires they might have had. An amazing thing is that she would later satisfy all of people’ tastes in one or another way. Everyone loved Joyce.

One day, one of the logisticians of the organisation needed to leave. He didn’t do his work well, and despite multiple efforts of helping him perform better, things just didn’t work out. They were in need of the new logistician… Monique and Kacper looked at each other and both whispered in the same time: ‘Joyce’. Yes, they both knew that Joyce needed to be the new logistician. She didn’t have experience, but she had everything else she needed! It was obvious.

It took Monique and Kacper two days to convince her to apply for a job. They needed to work through some of her worries. She thought, the job was too senior, she argued she was just a cook, she said she would not be capable managing men… she was a weak woman after all. They both dismissed all of her worries and promised that had she received the job, they would support her all the time, and there was no need to worry.

Joyce won the competition, got the job, and not surprisingly delivered excellently. She was so determined not to disappoint and to do her job well that she mastered all theoretical knowledge of logistics within weeks. She was a demanding, and a fair manager, and soon won over all men she used to manage.

Some months later, Kacper left Kenya. He went on to Pakistan, then Indonesia, but he stayed in touch with Joyce. Two years after he had left the country, he learnt that she won a competition to become the organisation’s business support manager for whole of East Africa. Joyce was signing her first international contract!

While eating, she was telling Kacper how things were at work, and how her family was. ‘And I learnt how to drive…’ she told him excited. She pointed at a small Toyota Yaris and proudly told him that this was her car. ‘Kacper’ she addressed him. ‘I thank you for all…’ she went on. She then said that it was him and Monique that made her believe in herself that they changed her life… ‘Joyce, stop here and now!’ demanded Kacper. ‘You changed your own life… You are the one, who you need to be grateful to, no one else…’ he explained. ‘I am just proud that I have earned such a great friend, as you are Joyce’ he added. ‘Now, will you allow me to be gentleman, and pay for our lunch?’ he offered. Joyce blushed slightly, and accepted the offer.

PS. Kacper is worried of what is happening in Chad. Heavy fighting brought out near to Abeche – where he lives. Hopes his colleagues are all fine!

Kacper is feeling self-pity - Post 27

2009-05-06T00:05:00.004+02:00

Kacper has never wondered why he suffers from an incurable disease. He finds such questions silly and immature. He is what he is, and he just needs to deal with it. Simple as that! What he doesn’t find that simple however is dealing with thoughts related to his future. He is not that good at handling extreme pain either, perhaps not physically, but mentally. Physical pain can be dealt with: there are plenty of good drugs that can help. Although, he doesn’t like taking drugs too frequently, for a fear of possible addiction, when his muscles and back pain unbearably he applies a strong painkiller for a relief.

Unfortunately, there is no medicine for his thoughts. He just needs to work through them, and this always takes lots of energy, energy that he starts missing sometimes. What Kacper found helpful is a chance to talk about what is happening in his mind. Talking, writing… whatever, as long as his head was being emptied.

For last 5 – 6 years, Kacper has been becoming weaker. He is still not at stage, when he would need assistance from anyone. It will probably not be a case for some more years, but a fact is that he is weaker, and physically, he is able to do only a fraction of what he used to in the past. He has more pain attacks, and they are more severe too. Whenever his body is particularly sore, he tries finding a place, when he can be left alone, where he can lock himself up, without being bothered by anyone. He then screams, and sometimes bangs with his fists against a table, a wall, or something hard. The energy he releases this way strangely makes him feel better. It doesn’t reduce any of the pain; it just gives him a chance to react. This physical demonstration is calming and healing.

‘Not knowing, yes – not knowing, how I support myself, when I am less able is the worst fear, I have’, he once told Jeff, his therapist that looked after him, when he felt suicidal. Despite all odds, Kacper has always been independent, more than that; he managed to support many other people. His relative success has made him to be arrogant in some ways. What he couldn’t accept was a fact that one day he would not be able to influence what he was going to do, and would need to give in to recognise decisions of other people over his fate. People will need to look after him, gradually to the point of assisting him with basic life activities. He will need to be helped to go to toilets; he will need to be pushed around in his wheelchair... All of this is a reality that is hanging over Kacper. Reality that he will only avoid if he doesn’t live long enough to experience it, or if there is some sort of miracle that will happen…

His worries are also of financial nature. How will he support himself, when he is not able to move around? Will he ever be able to find work, which doesn’t involve travelling, but he is able to carry out, given his very specific professional experience – humanitarian work experience? Kacper so far refused acknowledging he would not be able to support himself, and do work that he is not interested in, or does not believe in its sense.

All these gloomy thoughts attack Kacper, whenever his pains increase. Then, on the other hand, Kacper knows that he is a fighter. Leaving modesty aside, he knows that there were many obstacles in his life that he managed to overcome in seemingly hopeless situations, and that much of it happened because of his hard work. Of course, there were people supporting him along the way, but at the end, it was Kacper’s own determination that helped. ‘Why should it be any different now?’ he questions himself, trying to steal some optimism from energy around him. ‘Things might be tough, but am I not going just to do fine again… against all the odds?’ he keeps on thinking. He doesn’t know the answers, but he egoistically wished so much that things work out well for him.

It was Kacper’s grandma – his beloved Babcia, who taught him how to walk. He started walking very late. He made his first steps when he was 5 years old. Kacper was born with his feet twisted around, and it took the doctors four years to bring them back to more or less normal position. They did it through keeping them in plasters. They were replaced every week to allow space for Kacper’s growing body and exercises that his mother needed to perform on his feet each time ‘between the plasters’.

When he was four, his feet were declared ‘fixed’! This is when Babcia started her miracles. She bathed Kacper twice a day in herbs she was collecting herself in the woods. She effortlessly did so for over a year. After bathing, she would massage his feet, and tried to make Kacper walk. When all, including the medics, lost their hope he would ever move on his own, Kacper brought his Babcia, and the rest family to tears. One day he got up from a chair, where he used to sit while eating, and simply did his first 3 steps. Kacper started WALKING! His mother jokes about it until today. ‘Kacper, you started with the three steps only when you were five, but you cannot stop until today, and you keep on walking the world over!’ she smiles proudly.

Another serious crisis came, when he was slightly older. Kacper’s muscles were too weak to keep his growing body in a proper position. As a result, his spine got so curved that Kacper’s nose was nearly touching his knees. He deformation was so serious that he could hardly move, and worse so, his heart didn’t have enough space to work properly. The doctors suggested the surgery. ‘We will probably not manage to save him, the operation is too complicated and complex, but if we don’t do anything, we will loose him anyway…’ they gave the choice to his parents. Mum and dad didn’t hesitate for a second. ‘Operate, and save our son’, they decided. The surgery lasted over 10 hours. Kacper woke up in a new body. Technically, within a few hours he grew by 12 centimetres! The doctors achieved the impossible – he was given another chance, chance to live! Soon, Kacper was learning how to walk for a second time in his life. It was a strange feeling to be ‘tall’ all over sudden, and learning to deal with his extended body. It was difficult to overcome his fears of falling down and hurting himself, but he did it, he learnt WALKING again.

Today, Kacper’s back is very sore again. His mind continues his usual war of feeling self-pity versus feeling a master of his own fate. Kacper doesn’t know how the fight will end, but once again is determined to feel optimistic about his future, when he wakes up tomorrow.

PS. Kacper is thinking of his interview, he will have tomorrow.

Vikings - Post 26

2009-05-05T10:17:00.006+02:00

‘How did you recognaiss that I am from Yisslant? Ys yt becouss of my aksent?’ (How did you recognise that I am from Iceland? Is it because of my accent?), asked a young girl at Vaclavske Namesti in Prague. Kacper just couldn’t resist the temptation of talking to the Icelander that he accidentally met while she was enquiring in English for directions to the Charles Bridge. ‘Please forgive me, but yes… your accent made me suspect that you might be from Iceland’ answered Kacper as politely as he could. ‘You see…’ he carried on. ‘I love Iceland and have plenty of Icelandic friends, so when I heard you I just thought that I need to say hello!’ he explained. ‘Very well’ the girl seemed to be won over by him. ‘Where did you go in Iceland?’ she asked. Kacper happily explained that he had visited Reykjavik, Akureyri in the north, and little Neskupstathur in the eastern part of the island. ‘You have been everywhere!’ exclaimed the girl rather impressed. ‘My name is Bjork’ she added and offered Kacper her hand. Kacper shook it, and introduced himself too. ‘So perhaps, you can explain to me how to get to the Charles Bridge?’ she went on. ‘Do you care for lunch before?’ offered Kacper, hoping she would say yes. He really felt like reconnecting with Iceland now. ‘This is a very good idea’ she smiled.

Kacper first encounter with Icelanders was rather shocking. Years ago, he studied for some time in Denmark. The course that he was participated in was very international; students came from many different parts of the world. The strong political, economical and cultural connections between Denmark and Iceland make many citizens of the Nordic island move either temporarily, or permanently to Denmark. Hence, Kacper was explained, it was hardly surprising that one of the largest groups at his course were the Vikings!

During one of the first days in the college, when he still didn’t know his new companions that well, he went swimming. At the pool, he met one of the Icelandic girls, called Thorun. Kacper was genuinely impressed with Thorun, and how she swam. She was very sporty, and her movements in water were actually pleasant to look at. He decided that he was going to be a gentleman, as he was taught in his native Poland, and wanted to compliment Thorun. ‘You swim really well Thorun!’ he shouted to make sure that she could hear. She obviously must have misunderstood Kacper’s intentions, and have thought that Kacper was a kind of dirty-minded playboy, so responded very sharply: ‘Eat your shit!’

Being, still quite innocent, he didn’t understand what Thorun meant. Confused, he looked at giggling John – his English friend, and asked him to help him understand what he had just heard from Thorun. ‘I do not think she accepted your compliment Kacper’ explained John, still quite amused… ‘Don’t be shocked Kacper…’ went on John. Icelandic girls are very independent, and they sometimes think that compliments from men are a sign of chauvinism’, John carried on talking to Kacper, who seemed even more confused.

Thorun later became a very good friend of Kacper, and couldn’t apologise enough for her remark at the swimming pool, which by the way, soon became very famous in the whole college. It was used as a synonym of any cultural differences, which the students experienced in the college. Whenever there was a situation, where people perceived it in slightly different ways, or there were misunderstandings deriving possibly from various upbringings, everyone started laughing and quoting Thorun’s famous Eat your shit!

The more Kacper interacted with the Icelanders, the more enjoyed their ‘national characteristics.’ Iceland is a small country, where only slightly over 300,000 people live. The fact that there are so few of them makes them extremely proud, especially when overseas. They like underlining where they come from, and ensuring that everyone around knows what Iceland is. They do it however in a very sweet, and non-imposing way, and therefore they make friends extremely quickly everywhere. Kacper also found Icelanders to be the most dirty-minded people on earth. Some jokes that he heard from them were just shocking, nearly obscene, and he wouldn’t ever dare repeating them to anyone. They also seemed to be very messy, but very efficient in a same time. His Icelandic friends, always scored very well in all kinds of assignments, and were doing very well in group undertakings and tasks. They were definitely fun and friendly people to be with, and what Kacper really loved, extremely helpful.

‘Kacper, are you packed yet?’ asked Hron, before they were taking a train to Copenhagen, from where they would fly to Reykjavik. ‘You are joking Hron. I have been ready to go for last 2 days’ he answered. ‘Good Kacper minn (my Kacper), you need to come and help me pack then!’ she begged. ‘Hron, we are leaving in 30 minutes, and you are not packed?’ he panicked. ‘That’s why you need to come and help!’ she exclaimed laughingly.

Hron’s room looked like a disaster zone, like if a tornado had just passed through it. Everything was on the floor, the whole wardrobe, books, shoes, clothes, boxes…everything. Hildur - Hron’s sister and John were there too, both helping Hron pack. Kacper joined in to this colourful happening. It was a hilarious experience. They were all grabbing things from the floor, and squeezing them in a massive suitcase. Somehow, everything what was on the floor managed to get transferred to the suitcase. Kacper just needed to sit on it, to help Hildur and John zip it properly. They were ready to go, and miraculously, they didn’t miss the train!

Hron and Hildur were as excited as Kacper was from their trip to Iceland. Kacper was thrilled to visit a new, and unusual country, and they were proud to be able to show it to him. They lived in eastern part of the island, in a small town called Neskupstathur. He soon found out that there actually were more people excited about his visit. ‘Are you this Polish person, who visits Hron and Hildur’ asked some woman on a street, when they walked to a local shop. ‘Yes, that is me’ answered Kacper politely. ‘We are so excited we have a guest from Poland here’ she told him and invited him along with his hosts to visit her farm, so they could do some horse riding and have coffee afterwards.

In the plane, on the way to Iceland, Hron and Hildur tried to teach Kacper some Icelandic. ‘Er thu godt i rummene krusintulli minn?’ – reapeat, demended Hildur. Kacper kept on repeating, curious of the meaning. ‘You do not need to know the meaning, just tell it to our father, when you meet him!’ the sisters insisted. So Kacper did. The moment, he was introduced to the head of the family, he recited his er thu godt i rummene krusintulli minn, in front of the whole family. Everyone started laughing hysterically, actually people didn’t laugh, they had tears in their eyes. Dad was rather pleased with his Polish visitor, hugged him, like if he was his own son, and announced friendlily in Danish ‘Velkommen til familien Kacper’ (welcome to the family Kacper). He then nearly died of shame, when he found that his first sentence, he had greeted the girl’s father was HONEY, ARE YOU GOOD IN BED?

As Iceland is such a cold island, growing plants is nearly impossible; therefore, all traditional dishes include either fish or sheep – the only animals that were plentiful in the country. Kacper was often treated with traditional delicacies like rotten fish, head of a ram, or ram’s testicles… Marinated testicles became another sources of jokes for years. Kacper was learning names, of all dishes, and he particularly enjoyed the name for ram’s balls, which in Icelandic is hrutspungur. Dad, or Pappa as Kacper called him, really enjoyed that Kacper seemed to have liked his hrutsupungurs, and that he remembered the name so quickly. ‘You are my Hrutspungur’ he said to Kacper lovingly, and amused with a new nickname he had just invented for Kacper. From now on, for many of his Icelandic and non-Icelandic friends he became Hrutspungur. Kacper didn’t mind his new name really, but thought it was quite unusual to be called Ram’s Testicles…

Iceland is a country of stunning, but unusual beauty. There are nearly no trees in the country, and those, which are there, are all planted by settlers, rather than growing naturally. Kacper was there in December, and the daylight lasted only for 3 hours, or so. Most of Kacper’s Icelandic memories are therefore related to darkness. In Kacper’s eyes, this made Iceland look magical, and a bit spooky. Mountains, volcano lava rocks in strangest possible shapes, smell of sulphur coming from hot springs, bubbling hot mud, geysers – all created an atmosphere of some fairytale land. He loved it, and he definitely fell in love with good-hearted people of Iceland.

During his trip, he also visited other friends: Thorun and her family in Akureyri, and Adalbjorg in Reykjavik. Wherever he went, everyone was wonderfully hospitable and friendly to him – it was one of the most memorable holidays that he had ever had. The relations with Iceland and his friends were far from over. His friends and his new Icelandic family visited him in Poland on multiple occasions over years. What happened when the Vikings invaded his native Nowy Sacz will need to be told in a separate chapter…

PS. Kacper is in Nairobi, glad that his fever had gone down.

Habub is coming! – Post 25

2009-05-02T08:18:00.006+02:00

Kacper had a tiring day yesterday. He was to travel to N’Djamena, so he could catch his plane to Nairobi today in the evening, but nothing worked. First, when he made it to the airport building, he found out that his name wasn’t on the manifest for the morning United Nations flight. He tried to find out reasons, but all what he was given was some annoyed looks of the UN staff. The guy obviously didn’t intend to be helpful and the only thing he cared for was getting rid of Kacper.

Kacper doesn’t like pushing it too far, or perhaps he doesn’t like the feeling to be given favours. Talking the UN officer a bit more might have actually resulted with Kacper flying to N’Djamena, but it was just not right, Kacper didn’t like promoting behaviours leading to favouritism. He therefore returned to his office, slightly disappointed. ‘This is not the end of the world’ thought Kacper trying to comfort himself. ‘Mishaps happen, someone did a mistake and I was not on the manifest, not a big deal’ he went on. In the meanwhile, the country director of Kacper’s organisation found out he had been bumped off from the plane. He got upset. ‘Typical mess in the UN’ he commented and left the office.

Kacper started searching for email addresses of people in Nairobi, so he could write to them that he wouldn’t come due to problems with the plane. As he was preparing some coffee and thinking what to say in the email, the country director Bernard came back smiling. ‘I pulled some strings, called people I know and you are on the afternoon flight Kacper!’ he announced rather pleased with himself. ‘Thank you… that’s great…’ answered Kacper nearly resigned. So much for NOT HAVING SPECIAL TREATMENT and favouritism! Kacper was going to fly to N’Djamena, probably at cost of someone, who wasn’t lucky to have a boss with connections…

He finished his coffee, checked his email and called his parents to chat a bit and tell them about his travelling plans. He was glad to hear that they seemed to have enjoyed the May Day, and that his father was feeling better after his last chemo.

Kacper didn’t like the sky… it was dark, and it felt like a storm might be coming. As his Chadian experience wasn’t very long, he still hasn’t learnt what to expect from the weather. It didn’t look good though.

The airport building was packed, absolutely packed with people. All seemingly wanted to travel to N’Djamena. ‘There was no way, I was going to have a place in the plane, with all of these people, mostly UN staff’ thought Kacper. The UN staff had a priority to fly over non-UN folks, so even if for some reason they didn’t do the booking, but decided to take fly in a last moment, they could easily do so, by appearing at the airport and bumping someone off from the manifest (that’s probably what happened in the morning to Kacper).

He sat and observed the chaos. There was no any other word Kacper could think of, but chaos. People shouted at each other, tried to squeeze into multiple queues, whose logic Kacper was unable to work out. Everyone was stressed and angry. Kacper’s strategy was to sit and wait. Something was going to happen sooner or later. So he waited, and entertained himself with a bottle of guava juice, he just got for himself from the street seller.

‘Passengers to N’Djamena’ the man shouted all of the sudden. Wild crowd of people rushed towards him with their ID cards. Once the first wave of madness passed, Kacper approached a small table, behind which the man was doing his business. The officer took his ID card and looked up at him. ‘Yes, we had lots of trouble because of you’ the man snapped at Kacper after checking his name. ‘Here is your ticket… you will be on plane number 22’ he added coldly. Kacper was wondering, about the real intentions the man had in his mind. He looked like wanting beating Kacper badly – just to give him a lesson… Kacper promptly picked his ticket and thanked him.

Kacper sat with his ticket and waited and waited, and watched the chaos happen. He looked out of a window, and couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘God… the sandstorm was coming’, he whispered to himself. He knew sand storms very well – he experienced many of habubs – as people called them there, in northern Sudan.

The chaos kept on happening, and no one seemed to be noticing the cloud of dust approaching them. It was going to be messy here in a moment. Sand would cover the whole place, and it was going to be in everyone’s eyes, ears, and mouth… everywhere! It was obvious; they were not going to travel anywhere. It was too dangerous to fly with no visibility, and windy weather, especially; in these tiny planes the UN was operating.

The cloud hit the terminal, leaving everyone astounded. People were realising what Kacper had done a while ago – they wouldn’t fly anywhere. Some French women, from another NGO started swearing heavily in their native language, obviously realising their frustrations. Everyone was tired, and so ready to go, but no one would, and on top of that the unbearable sand was attacking from all directions.

Thirty minutes later, the atmosphere started clearing a bit. The storm was passing… ‘Ladies and gentleman’ the UN guy shouted, and announced that all planes for the afternoon were cancelled. He asked everyone with tickets to return the following day, and promised that passenger checked in would have a priority to fly… ‘Let’s see what life will bring’ thought Kacper and called the car of his organisation to come and pick him, so he could go and take a bucket shower! ‘Am I going to make it to Nairobi?’ he wondered in the car.

PS. Kacper will be going to the airport to catch the plane to N’Djamena in 30 minutes.

Why? - Post 24

2009-05-01T06:48:00.004+02:00

Today, Kacper noticed his Norwegian friend, posting a question on her Facebook status. Her question read ‘Hvorfor’? (Why?) Her simple why made Kacper think, and not understanding the reason behind it, the WHY brought his thoughts to southern parts of Africa.

Angola is one of these places, which you love and hate in the same time. When Kacper thinks about it, he is convinced he loves it more than hates it, but there were many times, when he was very frustrated with what he saw in his beloved land.

Kacper first arrived to Angola in 1996. He then visited the country in 2004, and eventually in 2007. None of the visits were easy. His first time to the country was when he experienced WAR for a first time in his life. It was then, when he realised how huge consequences wars had on people’s lives – on every sphere of their existence and that wars were not just images in his television. Wars were real, as there was a supermarket in Kacper’s hometown! Kacper didn’t like realising any of this. He didn’t know how to deal with it, not at all…

However more difficult than war itself, was dealing with its victims. He remembers standing in front of a 12 year old kid and trying to explain him that it was okey to cry, and it was okey to mourn his mother who had been shot in front of his eyes, and that his mother hadn’t die because he was a bit naughty a day before. ‘How do you explain to a kid that evil existed and there were people that actually liked hurting other people?’ Kacper asked rhetorically and felt sick, and disgusted. He didn’t know how to help the kids, he just didn’t know what to say – so, he didn’t say anything; he just sat with them, and kept silent. Sometimes he used to read them stories, and tried making them laugh… What else could he do…?

His second time in Angola was equally dramatic – perhaps for different reasons, but dramatic. A landmine killed Jose, a good friend of his… One day he was there, happy and jovial, the next thing that he saw was Jose’s coffin, and vacuum that his death created in lives of many people, Kacper’s included. ‘God, why did you take Jose away, why?’ Kacper wasn’t able to find any answers again.

Then there was his third visit to Angola, and his beloved Angola defeated him again. He left the country exhausted to the point, where he needed to ask a therapist from his organisation to help him cope…

Kacper knew that he didn’t feel well, and he desperately needed to share his frustrations out loud with his friends, with people, who he hoped would understand. Someone needed to hear, what he had on his mind and heart.

He wrote an email:

Luanda, Angola

October 2007

Dearest Friends,

I am about to leave Angola, after working here for three months. I am leaving the country quite exhausted by many things that I have experienced here. I won’t dwell on why this is the case; I would however like to give you a short testimony of what I have seen and experienced in Cacuaco and Cazenga, which are parts of Luanda, where we implement our sanitation and HIV/AIDS projects.

Before joining my present organisation, I had been doing humanitarian and development work for ten years or so. I think it’s fair to say that throughout that time I had seen quite a lot of misery. I saw wars from the frontline, saw people starving and dying, I saw people losing their possessions, houses, and eventually their hopes. Many of these injustices left me doubting in humankind, made me feel sad, depressed and helpless. At the same time, these experiences hardened me, helped me build some kind of protection, and ‘accept the thing…’ In my arrogance, I thought nothing would surprise me anymore, that I am tough and that I have ‘seen it all…’that is until I arrived in Cacuaco and Cazenga, here in Luanda.

I remember some years ago in South Sudan, I was standing on the roof of my house watching Antonov planes bombing a neighbouring village. One after another they flew over the houses, each dropping a barrel filled with petrol onto them. Then there was smoke, and I imagined people dying, screaming and being really scared… I remember watching it from the distance of twenty kilometres, feeling the world was about to end, and I could do nothing about it. I cried, and cried and felt helpless. I thought I would never feel so miserable again. Today, I know I was wrong… I have now seen the slums here, and let me tell you, the experience is equally traumatic.

The slums of Luanda challenged me again. Confronted me with unspeakable sufferings of around three million people who just struggle to survive another day, who live in real hell on earth.

It is difficult to describe how life goes for inhabitants of Cacuaco and Cazenga. To me, the experience of people living there is just incomprehensible. Initially, you don’t really realise how bad things are, but when you start discovering new places, and take time talking to new people, the horrific picture of these places is forming…

Imagine three million people in a city of four million, without access to water, many without basic (I mean basic) sanitation or infrastructure that we all take for granted. Imagine kids playing in trenches filled with toxic waste, or filthy water full of all unimaginable bacteria. Imagine people desperately looking for something to do so that they can survive one more day… People without any hope, I mean ANY HOPE of things getting better for the, or at least their children. People, who eventually die of malaria, cholera or some form of Ebola, because they are deprived of basic health services. All in the environment of extremely high criminality, where the price of human life equals a handbag with $10 in it, or where sexually assaulted women and kids do not even reporting it, because what difference would it make anyway…Imagine chemical odours brought by winds from neighbouring factories, toxic rains that kill any trees that have not yet died from extreme pollution. Imagine women carrying 50 litre buckets filled with water on their heads from the collection points as far as five kilometres away. Imagine people living in houses constructed from mud, rugs and metal scrap… Finally think of people selling their bodies, their organs – out of necessity to survive. This is reality for three million people living in Luanda, and what is worse, there are so many of such ‘Luandas’ out there in the world.

Initially, I have been trying to cope with all of this, but then, the other day, I was in the middle of this hell, and for the second time in my life, I felt absolutely HELPLESS, just like years ago in South Sudan. I hardly manage to stop the tears coming to my eyes, after all I am meant to be tough… how could we have allowed this to happen, how can we allow it continue happening, why?

I will leave it here.

Lots of love to you all, wherever you are in the world,

Kacper

Yes, Kacper remembers how upset Angola made him. Today, he is here in Chad, reading reports of people being regularly abused by militias, people being forced out of their homes, people loosing hope… ‘Here we go again…’ Kacper thought to himself… ‘We are allowing horrors happening again…’

He still hasn’t found any answers to the persistent question that his Norwegian friend had posted on her Facebook: WHY?’ Will she help him understand?

PS. Kacper is curious of whether he will be able to travel to N’Djamena tomorrow.

Poles in Australia - Post 23

2009-04-30T12:08:00.015+02:00

‘Witamy w Australii’ (Welcome to Australia), Kacper was greeted by an Immigration Officer at the Brisbane International Airport, after he had looked at his passport. ‘Wow… I didn’t expect to be using Polish on arrival here, however it is a very nice surprise…’ answered Kacper in his native language and smiled. ‘What will you be doing in Australia?’ the man switched into English. ‘I am on holidays…’ Kacper informed the guy, and explained that he worked in Indonesia on the tsunami project, and decided to visit the country for his break. He also told the officer, his friends – he wanted to visit, lived in Whitsundays. ‘You are really lucky to know people there’ noticed the guy - semi jealous, and wished Kacper a wonderful time in Queensland.

He left his hotel, and started walking towards the city centre… the further he walked, the happier he felt. He was in Australia, and was to see Brisbane, then Whitsundays, and his friends: Pat and Christian, whom he met years before in Sudan, and later Angola. Life was just great!

Kacper did not plan to do anything in particular while in Brisbane. He just wanted to take things as they came. He would probably see the sights, but really did not have intention of having any specific plans. He needed to be lazy!

Days passed, and Kacper enjoyed his holiday freedom, and doing what people do, when they are on vacations. He went to cinemas, shopping, ate good food and had lots of nice Australian wine.

The Botanic Garden and the river’s bank with restaurants and cafes were Kacper’s favourites. He also enjoyed driving up to the Kangaroo Point from where he admired a splendid panoramic view of Brisbane.

One of his afternoons, he spent in the China Town. On the way back to his hotel, he jumped into a taxi. The taxi driver seemed very chatty, and since Kacper wasn’t exactly someone who didn’t like talking, they had a nice conversation. Of course, the question of Kacper’s origin had to come at one point. The driver noticed right away, he was giving a lift to a foreigner. ‘I come from a small town in southern Poland’ answered Kacper. ‘Is your town called Zakopane by any chance?’ asked the cab driver with hope in his voice!

The guy’s name turned out to be a familiar sounding Zdzisek. When he was 10, together with his parents, he arrived to Australia from Zakopane. His Polish was still quite good. He was married to a Polish woman, who also came over to Australia when she was a little child.

Needless to say that Zdzisek was very excited to have met someone, who perhaps was not from his favourite town in Poland, but near enough to feel the connection. He insisted Kacper visiting his family for dinner. Initially Kacper wanted to refuse, it was already 7 in the evening, and he wanted to have an early night. ‘What the hell…’ he thought after thinking for a while, it could be fun to meet Polish immigrants in Australia. ‘I will be happy to come, thank you for your invitation’ he said politely.

Zdzisek’s house was quite far from the centre. To Kacper it looked like he was in some typical, quiet neighbourhood of Brisbane. His host’s house was strange. It looked nice and clean, but there was this strange feeling, the feeling that Kacper couldn’t describe… ‘A sad and nostalgic immigrant feeling’, appeared to Kacper after a while. Everything in a house was about Poland: the pictures, decorations, music played from the CD, even newspapers and magazines of Polish Diaspora Associations of Brisbane.

Poland that Kacper found in Zdzisek’s home was somehow familiar, but it was also unfamiliar in the same time. It seemed like time for Zdzisek’s family stopped nearly centuries ago – at least as far as Poland was concerned. They listened to songs, no one would ever listen to in Poland anymore. They displayed flags, national emblems, again something that wouldn’t cross anybody’s mind at home, they also manifested with exaggeration (as Kacper perceived it) their attachment to Polish Catholic Church. He did not like this overwhelming display of pictures of saints, Holy Mary, and the Pope John Paul II’s on Polish flags...

Zdzisek’s family was extremely friendly, but Kacper’s lifestyle on one side, and their imagination of what ‘a good Pole’ should be like on the other spectrum didn’t fit. Their perceptions and opinions clashed. First of all, Zdzisek found it very worrying that Kacper stayed in a fairly pricy hotel in Brisbane. ‘You will go bankrupt staying there’ he noticed with concern. ‘Perhaps, you should stay with us, so you can save money’ he declared. Kacper’s polite rejection of the offer didn’t go very well. Zdzisek just couldn’t understand, Kacper wanted to stay in the hotel, and didn’t mind spending his money there.

Another big issue came up, when they asked whether Kacper was planning to settle in Australia. It seemed difficult for Zdzisek to accept that he wasn’t going to, and although he enjoyed visiting Australia, Poland was Kacper’s home. ‘I have a great life in Nowy Sacz, and besides I move around the world all the time... I just think that having a base in Poland is my best option – this is where I want to call home’. He felt a bit sorry for Zdzisek. For some reason, Kacper felt that with his visit, he questioned Zdzisek’s reasons why his family had moved to Australia in a first place. He felt that Zdzisek was a bit jealous that Kacper is able to fulfil his ambitions, and dreams without needing to emigrate from Poland. It is just like if he – Zdzisek was making all his efforts of travelling across the world, struggling with being an immigrants far from their own people nearly senseless. What they came here for; a stable and wealthy life was available in the place they had decided to leave years ago…

Kacper was surprised to experience such sentiments. ‘It is odd that people wouldn’t be glad that things were going for better, in any place in the world, especially in the place, they originally come from’ he thought to himself. He knew that sometimes things are not that simple, and therefore tried to not judge Zdzisek’s reactions, but be grateful for an interesting evening.

‘Kacper!’ shouted Pat, when in front of the airport terminal in Whitsundays. She jumped on him, and hugged him fondly. ‘Finally, you made it… Welcome to Whitsundays…’ she exclaimed. It was such a great reunion. They had not seen each other for many years… there will be so much catching up to do!

Pat drove Kacper home slowly, so she could explain to him about the attractions on the way. Pat and Christian lived in Airlie Beach, and it took around 40 minutes to get to their house. Kacper loved the place. Everything was green and simply beautiful. ‘I am in real Australia, with real Australians now’ thought Kacper, and allowed Pat decide whatever she thought was best that they do. He just wanted to spend time with her, and see, how Australians live their daily lives.

They got home, and had lunch. Christian, Pat’s Dutch husband was returning from his work in a few hours. ‘He is taking some days off, as of tomorrow, so we will have lots of time together’ informed Pat. ‘We are going to have so much fun’ she added, obviously still very excited.

Pat and Christian actually met in Wau in Sudan. They both worked for the same organisation. It was not obvious, they would become a couple. They gave impressions of being very different people, and Kacper couldn’t imagine them forming a relationship. Something did spark between those two however, and today, Kacper thought they were created for each other.

They both knew of Kacper’s physical limitations, so they made sure that whatever activities they were planning involved little of walking and lots of opportunities to sit. Kacper loved it, as in this way, they had a chance to talk about all good times, and catch up with their lives. Kacper was glad to hear that Pat enjoyed her work as a nurse in the medical centre of Proserpine, while Christian seemed to be doing really well working as the Queensland Government’s health standards official – checking whether businesses around complied with health and safety standards. Really good news was that they were waiting for their first child!

Towards the end of Kacper’s stay, they decided it would be a shame had Kacper missed visiting one of the resort islands. ‘We will not be able to go with you, but you will just love it’, they concluded and booked a package for Kacper to go to Long Island. He was leaving the next day.

Long Island is one of these ‘postcard type of places’ with views and landscape that are nothing less but breathtaking. Kacper stayed in a nice resort with his room overlooking an enchanting bay, swimming pool, great beach, and everything one could ever dream of during a lazy holiday’. So it became – a lazy holiday! Kacper walked, admired landscapes, swam, talked to other tourist, and observed animals, especially colourful and exotic birds. Nice and easy.

On a following day, he was sunbathing a bit at the swimming pool area. A handsome guy, about his own age attracted his attention. ‘There was something Slavic in his face’ thought Kacper, when he passed. The guy sat at the bar, and reached for a magazine, which was hidden in his bag, where he kept swimming towels. Somehow, Kacper was not surprised to see, what he took out was a Polish weekly called Wprost. It seemed like, Australia was full of Poles, after all. He approached the guy, and addressed him in Polish. ‘Excuse me, I can see that you are a Pole, are you a visitor to Australia, or live here?’ asked Kacper curiously. The guy removed his sunglasses and smiled. ‘This is a good start of a holiday…’ he stated and invited Kacper to join him for a glass of white wine.

Dominik just arrived to Long Island, after having spent two weeks in Brisbane. He was from Krakow’s Jagiellonian University, where he taught Flemish language and Flemish literature. As a humanist, he was interested in literature in general, and therefore, the University of Queensland invited him over to deliver some lectures on Slavic Middle Ages writings. He just finished the job in Brisbane, and was chilling out in Long Island, before returning to Poland.

They engaged with really interesting conversations. Kacper found it very fascinating to learn about Dominik’s work, and his career of a translator, and a writer. Dominik obviously was extremely academic, but in the same time, appreciated a dose of realism, and earthy life. He therefore found Kacper’s work and stories from around the world the most amusing.

Kacper caught himself, he really liked Dominik, and definitely felt very comfortable around him. He loved looking at his face expression, when he talked. There was something really attractive about it.

In the evening, when he returned to his bedroom, without any reason he felt really happy, simply happy inside. His thoughts were around Dominik. He analysed every bit of their conversation, remembered every move Dominik made. He felt warmth around his heart. Kacper had a good night of sleep…

PS. Swine flu is making headlines in all news… Kacper wondered whether Abeche was too hot for the virus to survive in the desert?

Kacper is going to Nairobi - Post 22

2009-04-29T10:23:00.007+02:00

He unlocked his office’s door, opened it and looked at the floor. It looked strange; like… if it was moving. It was already dark, so Kacper couldn’t see very well. He turned the lights on. ‘Oh my goodness, what are these ants doing here?’ he exclaimed, though there was no one around to listen. The floor of his office was literally covered with millions of ants – all moving orderly in several different directions. ‘What is it that they want in here?’ he wondered.

He went to look for his Chadian colleague, who is responsible for maintenance work. He wanted to ask him to come over, so that they could decide what to do about the ants. His colleague was nowhere to be seen and it took Kacper over 45 minutes to find him. ‘I have millions of ants invading my office!’ he reported, when they finally encountered. As Kacper was talking in English, and his colleague’s English was as bad as Kacper’s French was, their conversation was not going very far. ‘Formigas, formigas…’ tried Kacper desperately in Portuguese, hoping it will clarify something. As formigas didn’t seem to work, Kacper grabbed his arm and pulled him to his office. ‘Look…’ said Kacper pointing at the floor. He did not believe… all of the ants – 1 million of them were gone! There was nothing on the floor! ‘Floor dirty?’ struggled Kacper’s colleague, still confused and surely wondering, what the silly foreigner might have wanted from him.

Kacper sat behind his desk looking around and wondering whether the ants would return. The enemy seemed to have departed for good though, so he tried to concentrate on his work. He still needed to finish some documents related to the Scenario Planning Exercise that he had led with his colleagues a day before.

He opened his email inbox. ‘Great…’ he thought, when he noticed an e-ticket for his trip to Nairobi that he had received from N’Djamena. ‘Now, I can book my hotels’, he decided excitedly. Kacper was to travel to Kenya, where he will be interviewed for a job. Some weeks ago, he applied for a secondment opportunity to his present organisation. If successful, he would work for seven months in the Regional Centre for East Africa, when he completes his present mission in Chad.

Great news was that on his way to Nairobi, Kacper was going to stop over for a night in Addis Ababa, where he would be able to meet his friends! ‘This is fantastic!’ he couldn’t help smiling. ‘Paz, Taamir, Kate, Robert, Amare… here I come!’ he thought to himself. This was definitely a wonderful bonus that he didn’t expect. He missed his Ethiopian buddies, and it was just a wonderful thought to be able to eat out with them again!

Kacper first arrived to Ethiopia around a year ago. He was sent there to help setting up a response programme to the droughts in the Somali Region, in the areas along the border with Djibouti.

He loved his Ethiopia experience. First of all, he found the country fascinating. The people were friendly, tones of history, and the landscapes… He spent lots of time travelling in a car, and he never got bored. Ethiopia was simply stunningly beautiful. ‘I wish, I could bring my mother here…’ he dreamt once, when their car was trying to make its way through curvy, mountainous roads, just after leaving Dire Dawa towards Addis Ababa. He was convinced that she would have loved it there.

But, it was mainly the people he worked with that made all the difference, and why he enjoyed being in Ethiopia so much. They somehow managed to create something that Kacper liked to refer to as ‘the Dream Team’. Yes, as sometimes happens, there was some mistrust in the beginning, but they managed to go through it all and build the team that worked.

He still remembers his conversation with Amare, his Ethiopian colleague that he – Kacper was to manage and to work with. ‘You Globals from Oxford, you are always so arrogant and unfriendly’ started Amare, when they had a chance to talk for a first time. ‘You just come to places, set up things, according to what you believe is right, but without any consideration of people that have worked in Ethiopia before, and then you leave!’, continued Amare in a slightly bitter way. ‘At the end, we – the Locals, are the ones, who clean the mess that you have created!’ he concluded. ‘Wow…’ this was going to be a difficult deployment, he thought.

The conversation with Amare just confirmed to Kacper, how negative feelings many people have in regards to the Globals working for his agency. Sadly, he needed to agree with much of the criticism! Many of his colleagues were precisely what Amare had described. Of course, there was no point trying convincing him that, Kacper was going to try to do things differently, no point in promising he would be inclusive, and sensitive. Kacper just needed to prove himself, and try doing whatever he could to win Amare over.

Ethiopia programme was blessed with a wonderful country director, who had just arrived to take his job, two weeks before Kacper did. Taamir, a Canadian of Pakistani and Dutch origins was probably one of the best bosses Kacper had a chance to work in his entire career. He was bright, witty, hard working, great sense of humour, confident, fair, yet very compassionate too. Taamir was able to listento people, and he did not do it just to show off that he cared; he actually seriously took people’s opinions into consideration, when taking decisions.

Taamir lived with his British wife Kate, who although didn’t work for their organisation felt like an integral part of the Dream Team. Kate, like Taamir was extremely bright, and knowledgeable, but what Kacper loved most about her was her sensitivity. She just knew what to say when to make people feel well. ‘Wonderful human beings’, Kacper recalled them both.

Then, there were Paz – the business support manager from the Philippines, an Australian Jane, who was in charge of donor relations, a German Anita – an advocacy manager, a Norwegian Pernille – in charge of food security, and two Bangladeshi boys: George the accountant, and Sadhan in charge of media work. Later, towards Kacper’s end of stay, Robert – a friendly chap from the UK came to take over Anita’s responsibilities, as she needed to urgently go to Afghanistan for another mission.

The objectives of the Dream Team were to set up the humanitarian programmes, shape them, and then hand them over to existing structures of the country programme. They needed to do things quickly and efficiently, so they could leave the country as soon as possible – after all, having all these foreigners working in one place was expensive. It was not necessary to have them there for a long time, especially in a country like Ethiopia, where there are many well-educated and capable citizens.

They all worked hard, but they also had fun doing so. Kacper went to work with enthusiasm and pleasure. He liked the way they were dealing with challenges and problems, he loved their discussions on difficult humanitarian dilemmas that they needed to face. However, what made Kacper especially happy was a fact that Amere seemed to feel good in the team!

They all soon became friends, not just colleagues. They talked about silly and not-so-silly stuff. They knew about their partners, love affairs, hobbies, ambitions, and dreams. They spent lots of time together. Kacper even convinced Paz to come over and visit him in Poland for her New Year break! Jane, who was a freak of healthy living, on the other hand convinced Kacper to start looking after himself.

‘Honey-bunny’ she told him once. ‘We are going to work out a healthy eating plan for you, and you will start swimming, as of tomorrow’ she decided rather than suggested once, when Kacper again complained about his aching back, and muscles. ‘But, but…’ Kacper wanted to resist. ‘There is no buts, you will just do it, and you will love it!’ So they did! Kacper swam 3 times a week, and changed the way he nourished his body. Thank to Jane, he lost 10 kg within 8 weeks – something he thought he would never be able to do (Kacper still is leading his ‘healthy plan’ even now, when he was without Jane in Chad).

‘Amere, you need to apply for my job’ Kacper tried again to talk him into it. ‘I will be leaving soon, and you are the one, who will do the job best!’ he carried on. ‘I do not think, I am ready Kacper’ kept on answering Amere. This made Kacper crossed a bit. ‘Stop talking crap, and just do it!’ exclaimed Kacper impatiently. Amere just smiled.

The interviews to choose a successor of Kacper were long. Finally, after days, the recruitment panel took the decision. It was Amere, who was considered to be the best candidate!

Amere was taking over a job of being a big boss of humanitarian department for Ethiopia, and Kacper was preparing for his departure. The organisation’s decision to send Kacper to Chad just speeded things up. Once again, as it happened so many times in the past, it was time to say goodbye to his friends, to the country and its people. As always, Kacper was looking forward to new challenges that his exciting life might bring. A part of him was also very sad. ‘I wish, I could keep all these people with me somehow’ he dreamt, when they all waived at him, as Kacper was approaching the security gates of the airport of Addis Ababa.

PS. Kacper is pleased to learn his dad is feeling better!

The Austrian connection - Post 21

2009-04-28T06:50:00.011+02:00

Kacper just got off his phone. He finished talking with his mother, who had given him updates of his father and news on his chemotherapy. It was still difficult to conclude whether the treatment was fighting the tumour in his lungs. Dad just received his second dose of the medicines, and there were still more to go. Only after some additional series of drips, his father would undergo additional tests determining how successful the chemo has been.

Kacper felt worried. ‘He is not responding to the treatment that well’ his mother reported. ‘The blood results are quite bad, and he feels quite sick’ she continued. She also mentioned to him that despite all of this news, the doctor asked not to panic, and to give the treatment a chance. The doctor reassured that many patients did not feel well in initial stages, but eventually got better. ‘Optimism is the best thing that he needs now’, she concluded.

He felt so guilty! Here he was far away, somewhere in Chad, when his father, and his mother would have preferred him to be home with them. ‘There are no easy choices’ thought Kacper sadly. On one side, he wanted to support them morally – be there for them, on the other hand, Kacper realised that he needed to work, and it was not only for sake of his career. It was a prosaic reason of not being able to afford not to work. Some consolation was that his older brother and his family lived in Nowy Sacz, and they looked after their parents on daily basis. Kacper knew his sibbling would do a great job… he just wished he could be there now.

Kacper loved his father. He loved him, the way sons love their parents, and parents love their children – unconditionally. His love to him never got shaken, despite many tests that life put their relationship through.

His father was an alcoholic. Around 20 years ago, he stopped drinking, following a treatment that he had eventually agreed to undergo. The treatment, which became a fight for his life that he managed to win for himself, as well as for his family.

There had been many painful memories, before he enrolled to the programme. There were tears, beatings, and fear of not knowing what might happen next – what might happen to the family, but also to dad himself… Mum’s beatings were the most painful memories of all. Kacper would never forget them, but he forgave, as did his brother, and mum herself. They all knew, that after all, dad had a heart of gold, and it was just his disease that was destroying him…

Dad had a great sense of humour, and people loved him for it. Then, he had this great ability of fixing everything. He was very creative too. He would produce the most magical toys for Kacper and his brother. Lots of them were wooden. He was very good with wood, which was his favourite material to work with.

His father was a very simple man. He never finished his primary school. His own father had passed away, before he could remember him. It was his wonderful mother, who was then bringing him up on her own… ‘Babcia’, Kacper used to address her grandma sweetly. They never had an easy life, and faced existential problems on daily basis… There was simply no good environment for dad to attend schools. Things were different and tough those days.

Quite strangely, Kacper’s father had a dual nationality. He was both a Polish and an Austrian citizen. In fact he was born in Neunkirchen, a small town outside of Vienna, in 1947.

Soon after the World War 2 had broken out, Kacper’s Babcia, and her older sister were arrested, and deported to the III Reich to work as slave labourers. They both ended up working in one of the farms near Vienna. Compared to other people, they were lucky. They were never treated with cruelty, separated, and worked with one family, throughout the war. Their lives were obviously difficult, but not unbearably so.

A year after their arrival to Neunkirchen, Babcia seemed to have managed to charm a young and handsome Hans, an Austrian guy, from a middle class family. They first met during a service at the local church. During following masses, they kept on looking at each other shyly and whether they liked it, or not, their hearts were beating a little bit faster, each time they looked. Shortly after, they started talking to each other too – obviously very discreetly – after all Babcia was a prisoner from Poland, and it was too dangerous for both of them to do it openly.

The adoration that Hans had for her kept on growing… Babcia proudly told Kacper, how Hans had risked his life, and reputation for looking after the two Polish sisters. He used to bring them extra food, chocolate, basic goods they might have needed. Sometimes, he even succeeded bringing along some wine, and they all celebrated late at nights in stables, when everyone else was asleep.

The war finished, and the dramatic political changes took place all over Europe. Austria was now free, but half of Europe towards the eastern side unwillingly became a part of the Soviet Union’s influence.

Babcia and her sister decided against going to Poland. They were scared returning to their Communist ruled homeland.

Eventually, some time later, Babcia’s sister got married to a Polish chap from Warsaw, who had worked in a neighbouring farm. Babcia got married too; of course, it was Hans, who became her husband! Getting married was a difficult decision, for both of them. Hans’ family disapproved the idea fiercely, and threatened that he would not be able to associate with them, should he decide to spend his life with ‘that Polish worker’.

Kacper’s father was born in the town of Neunkirchen. He was baptised in the same local church, where Babcia and Hans used to look at one another with admiration. They then moved to Vienna. Living in a big city was easier for the Austrian-Polish family. The big city did not stop Babcia miss her home, her people, her mountains though. ‘Listen Hans, I love you more that anything, but I am not able to stay in Austria anymore. I want to return to Poland!’ she announced one day. ‘My place is where you are’ he answered without a second of hesitation…

They settled in southern Poland, in the town where Babcia came from. Hans learnt Polish very quickly, and got accepted by the community without any reservation. ‘You are one of us’, some of his new Polish friends would tell him. ‘You were helping our people’ added the others.

Hans, or Janek, as the locals started calling him, became a bus driver. He serviced a long distance routes between Nowy Targ, and cities like Katowice, or Wroclaw. One night, he did not return, his bus collided with another vehicle. Both drivers died instantly.

Technically, Kacper was a quarter Austrian. His parents never applied for his citizenship, before he was 18, and therefore he lost his right to do so afterwards. Once, just before the Marital Law was introduced in Poland in 1981, Kacper’s parents nearly decided to move to Vienna. The Austrian Consulate in Krakow encouraged, Kacper’s father, the citizen of Austria, to move back. They deemed it was too dangerous to live in Poland, and could not offer protection for their citizens. They even offered the repatriation for the whole family of their Austrian citizen, and promised social help on arrival.

Kacper and his older were excited, they were going to live in the WEST, just to learn with disappointment that their parents refused going. ‘We have managed to live here all these years, we will manage some more’ decided his father with strong approval of mum. At that time, Kacper and his brother did not understand… they were just kids… It took years, before they finally comprehended their parents’ decision to stay.

Kacper has tears in his eyes thinking of his dad. He wished so much, he got better, he got strength to fight again, the way he did so many times in the past, the way that he taught his own son, Kacper…

PS. Kacper has put a fan in his bedroom on. It is time to go to sleep!

A day in Warsaw - Post 20

2009-04-27T13:18:00.002+02:00

The organisation’s decision of transferring Kacper from Ethiopia to Chad was prompt, and caused many things move in Kacper’s life quickly, in fact too quickly. He needed to arrange his Chadian visa, pack, and say good-bye to many of his friends in Addis Ababa within hours. He would be travelling to Poland for 5 days, where he needed to re-pack, meet with many people, and above all make sure that his parents were coping well with a medical treatment, which his father was undergoing for his lung cancer that had been accidentally diagnosed during his last medical check-up.

Kacper was sitting in a comfortable coach of the intercity train, somewhere between Krakow and Warsaw. He was going to stay for a day in the Poland’s capital, before boarding his Air France flight to Paris and then from there to N’Djamena. He was glad he had a chance to stay in Warsaw for the whole afternoon and evening. He was going to meet with… Krzysztof!

Kacper was very fond of Krzysztof. They first ‘met’ via the Internet, around two years ago, and their relation grew to something very special, something that Kacper did not expect.

Krzysztof was a kid of 15 years of age. Together with his parents, he lived in Warsaw. This is where he went to school and where most of his friends were.

Krzysztof, or Krzysiek, as Kacper mainly referred to him suffered with Spinal Muscular Dystrophy, the condition that he – Kacper also had. Krzysiek’s medical prospects were far worse than those of Kacper. He was permanently attached to his wheel chair, and there was no hope that he would ever walk. He was badly curved, and he started developing problems with breathing. He needed lots of care and attention, which his parents tirelessly provided to him.

It was Krzysiek’s mother, a brave woman, who was not much older that Kacper himself that he started corresponding with two years earlier. Kacper browsed into website on Krzysiek, which she administered.

Kacper knew that he needed to be in touch with the family, the moment he discovered Krzysiek’s website. He enjoyed reading about his stories, and hobbies, as well as daily struggles that Krzysiek and his parents needed to go through to make sure that he did not miss out things that his peers were involved with, and that he managed to find something that would make him happy, and fulfilled now, and later in the future.

It took over a year, before Kacper actually met Krzysiek, and his mother. Until then, they had been exchanging emails. Justyna – Krzysiek’s mother, wrote to Kacper about her son’s developments, but also seemed to want to hear from Kacper – nearly desperately that people with MD can live happily, and lead lives, which are interesting! She treated Kacper as some kind of hope proving, it did not matter that her beloved Krzysiek couldn’t move much and that he was disabled. She wanted to hear that her son could have passions, and live these passions, the way Kacper did. This is at least what she believed that he had done… ‘God, Kacper… you seem to live your life, the way you want it, and I admire you for this… and I would love so much that my dear Krzysiek does the same’ she would write to him.

Kacper was very puzzled with all these admiration, but wanted to help Krzysiek in all ways he could. He therefore kept on sending to the kid pictures from places, where he worked, he discussed with him over the Internet about his homework, or challenged his views on his own disability. ‘No Krzysiek, this is not true… you can do lot more than that… and stop using your wheel chair, as an excuse…’ sometimes he would tell him off, whenever Krzysiek started moaning that he for example, wouldn’t go to a party, as everyone would only see a cripple in him.

His mother was very appreciative of Kacper’s emails, and chats. Once, she wrote to him that she noticed so much positive change in her son, since he started interacting with his older friend – Kacper. She noticed that Krzysiek opened up a lot, and was much more confident about himself. ‘All of the sudden, he could offer something unusual to his friends… He could impress the other kids with his knowledge of Africa, or tell them jokes that he had learnt from you Kacper’, she described her son’s progress. ‘Once, he even organised a slide show for his class, with your pictures… the kids loved it, and they all clapped… you can’t imagine Kacper, how proud Krzysiek was…’ she carried on emotionally.

Kacper always wanted to tell Justyna that it is her Krzysiek, which makes Kacper’s experiences even more exciting. ‘You can’t imagine, how much fun I have sharing my adventures, with someone like your son… so please, please stop thanking me… I should thank you!’ he tried to convince her.

Kacper just got to his hotel room. He called Justyna, and spoke to Krzysiek. They would meet in two hours, have a snack together, and then visit the last floor of Warsaw’s Palace of Science and Culture – so that they could together admire the panorama of the city! ‘That should be lots of fun!’ thought Kacper, wrapping up Krzysiek’s present that he had brought for him… a copy of the National Geographic’s DVD on Masai Mara National Park.

PS. Kacper is arranging travel details for his unexpected trip to Nairobi.

Kacper is stoned - Post 19

2009-04-26T13:10:00.021+02:00

After travelling extensively around India, Kacper and his 10 fellow college students, were in Amritsar, eastern part of the country, near the border with Pakistan. All still excited after visiting the magnificent Golden Temple, the holiest shrine of the Sikhs... They were now finishing their last preparations for entering Pakistan - the next country, which they were visiting on their way to Europe. They travelled in THEIR OWN BUS. The vehicle, which, not only became their means of transport, but also their home for next 6 months...

Crossing the border between the two countries was probably the most colourful experience of its kind. The relations between India and Pakistan still under strain; caused the two nations, to compete and rival with each other, sometimes, in most unexpected ways and places. The frontier-crossing on the road from Amritsar to Lahore was a good example of it.

Both sides tried ensuring, it was their border post, and not the other one, which looked more glamorous and spectacular. The guards of both countries were dressed in extremely colourful uniforms; their hats with lavish decorations were the most effective of their overall appearance. The entry/exit gates were richly painted with national colours, and emblems. Huge flags of Pakistan and India informed each visitor, in which country they currently were. When leaving India, the guards saluted their bus in a very pompous way, just to see the Pakistani soldiers repeating a similar show, on arrival to their country.

In Lahore, the group decided to split for a week. The idea was that in couples, they visited different villages around the country. Seven days later, they would meet in the City of Quetta on the border with Afghanistan. They were supposed to reach Beluchistani capital by train, or public buses. In the meanwhile, two other colleagues would drive the bus to the city, and wait for everyone’s arrival there. From Quetta, they would together drive further, through the deserts of Beluchistan, towards Taftan, the Pakistani town on the border with Iran.

Kacper was to visit villages, with the Finnish friend of his – Mariukka. She was of his age, and had a typical Nordic look. She was tall, and thin, and her hair was so blond that nearly white, which in Pakistan attracted lots of attention, especially coming from men.

They happened to be travelling, during the Holy Month of Ramadan, when all self respecting Muslim fasted during daylight. The fact that people do not eat, or drink in very high temperatures, makes them very tired. This disrupts normal businesses too. Shops, restaurants, or transport companies would be either closed, or would offer a limited service.

Mariukka and Kacper soon found out that their plan of visiting rural areas outside of Lahore was not going be easy. A mini-bus that they had hoped to take them to their destination was not going anywhere that day. They therefore, ended up wandering pointlessly around Lahore’s shuk (market), thinking how to adjust their plans. It was hot, and they were already quite thirsty and hungry. They decided, finding some upmarket restaurant, or hotel, which could serve them drinks and food, despite the Ramadan’s fasting.

‘Excuse me, sir…’ Kacper approached a friendly looking middle-aged man on one of the streets. ‘Do you speak English?’ he asked. ‘How can I help you?’ answered the man encouragingly. ‘We are looking for a place, where we could eat. Do you know anywhere, which is open at this time of the day?’ Kacper kept on asking. The man explained that because of the Ramadan, it was going to be difficult to eat anything now. He however mentioned that there was an international hotel the neighbourhood, but it was surely quite expensive.

Mariukka and Kacper thanked the man, and walked off. They did not intend to eat anywhere pricy, they were students, travelling on budget, and needed to save. They continued walking hoping that something would come up sooner or later. They also decided that they would take a night train to Quetta, and try visiting villages around there, rather than Lahore.

Kacper had a strange feeling; they were being followed. He looked back, but saw nothing unusual. ‘I am imagining things’ he thought to himself. Five minutes later, someone grabbed his arm firmly. The man, who had just talked to them, reappeared. ‘I would like to invite you to my family’ he proposed. ‘We will be very proud to host you’ he added. Mariukka and Kacper did not need much convincing. They had experienced many families treating them in their homes in India. ‘Now it was happening again in Pakistan’ they assumed. ‘We will be privileged!’ decided Mariukka without hesitation…

The man brought them to a parking space near one of the shops. ‘This is my car…’ he opened the back door, and invited them inside a nice, modern looking 4x4. There was another man sitting behind the steering wheel. ‘That’s Ahmed, my driver’ he introduced him. ‘We will now go to my family’s house, it is not very far from here.’ Ahmed switched the engine on, and they started moving around busy streets of the city.

In the car, Mariukka and Kacper told their host that they were students, and travelled around Asia. They told him about their countries, and families. Of course, they assured him how much they loved Pakistan, each time, the man asked them for their impressions of his country.

Kacper noticed that they were leaving the city. This was slightly unexpected, as he believed that the man’s family lived in Lahore. ‘Don’t worry, this is not very far from here, it is just 20 more minutes’ reassured the man. They kept on driving through small villages, and something told Kacper, things were not right.

After half an hour, he asked the man to stop. ‘Sir, we do not want to inconvenience you… you must be busy, and we imposed ourselves. Please do let us out in this village, and we will manage on our own’ suggested Kacper. ‘We are nearly home!’ he exclaimed back, making sure Kacper understood, they would continue. Some time later, at distance, they noticed some decent nice looking buildings. ‘We are going to that blue house that you can see on the horizon… this is where my family lives…’

They moment they left the car, the door of the house opened, and many people walked outside. The host introduced his visitors to people that Kacper believed were inhabitants of the place. To Kacper’s surprise, they also met a Pakistani woman dressed in western clothes. She spoke spotless English with an American accent. ‘This is my wife… she will make sure, you will be fine in here’ the man announced proudly. Everyone was friendly and kind to the two visitors. This made Kacper feel more relaxed again, despite his surprise of meeting people, who did not seem to behave like he had imagined a typical Pakistani family would.

They all enjoyed the dinner. Mariukka and Kacper entertained their hosts with stories from their countries, which everyone seemed to have liked. It was late, and they wanted to rest. Mariukka and Kacper were offered one of the modest looking bedrooms, with two separate beds inside.

‘This is where you will sleep’ explained the host and passed them glasses with milky tea.

Mariukka seemed very tired and informed Kacper, she was hitting her bed immediately. Kacper also felt it was time to sleep, in fact, this was the only thing he could imagine doing at that point.

He opened his eyes, and looked around. He had a scrutinising headache. In fact, Kacper’s head seemed to be spinning mercilessly, making him feel sick. There were many trees around him, for some reason. He tried to lift his body from the ground. It ached! He noticed, he was dressed in a jalaba (a Pakistani dress), and not his usual clothes. Kacper looked around, and here she was – Mariukka, sleeping on the ground. Her body was curled, and she looked a bit like a sleeping cat.

‘What was going on?’ he tried his best to remember. ‘We must have had a car crash’ a strange thought crossed his mind, without any reason, and he decided that he needed to look for a telephone booth, to call for help. He passed out again.

…There were some people around them, perhaps five. They looked worried and curious, but concentrated their attention on Mariukka rather than Kacper. She vomited, and Kacper thought it was funny. ‘Mariukka is sick, she must have been drinking’ he thought to himself, and turned around. All what he wanted was sleep now…

He opened his eyes. He inspected the room he was in… Mariukka slept on a bed that looked very comfortable. There was a big crucifix on a white wall, which he faced. He did not know where he was, and what he was doing there. He did not seem to care though.

Kacper decided to get out of his bed, and moved towards a big brown door. He opened it and walked out on something that resembled a terrace. He was on a first floor. Everything around seemed very quiet. Kacper looked at a beautiful garden that appeared to his eyes. ‘Am I in Heaven?’ he asked himself.

He found stairs leading to the garden. He decided to walk down them. As he was approaching the ground floor, he noticed… a monk planting a rose carefully and with adoration. He looked at Kacper, and smiled gently. The man’s face was very friendly. His white and beautiful teeth contrasted pleasantly with his dark skin.

‘How are you… I hope you are feeling better?’ he addressed Kacper. ‘Thank you, sir! I am well indeed’ he answered and paused. ‘But… but who are you, and where am I?’ asked Kacper.

‘God…’ thought Kacper after he had talked to the monk. ‘We are really lucky to be alive’ he evaluated… The monk had explained that local peasants, who were on the way to cultivate the fields, found Mariukka and Kacper in the woods. They brought, the unconscious Europeans, to one of a local car garages. From there, the owner called the Catholic Missionary Centre in Lahore, and explained what had happened. He was asked to look after them until the Missionary Centre would pick the foreigners up.

Mariukka and Kacper apparently slept for over 24 hours. Sometimes they would wake up, and talk to the priests, but Kacper could not recall any of it. No one in the monastery knew, who the guests were. They were found with no documents, no money… NOTHING! They reported to the Police of Lahore of the two foreigners, but it seemed the police were not interested in finding out, who Mariukka and Kacper might have been!

Kacper’s mind slowly started recovering, but it was a slow process, and for most of the time, Kacper felt like he was in between two strange realities. ‘How funny… we had been kidnapped’ he thought to himself and started laughing.

Mariukka finally woke up. Kacper explained to her in a nutshell what he had found out. She found the story as amusing, as Kacper had done. She then went for a shower, and something strange happened, when she returned. She burst into tears and started sobbing, and looked really miserable. Kacper kept on asking what was happening… and feared the worse… ‘Mariukka must have been assaulted’ he thought grimly. ‘I do not have my deodorant… they had stolen my deodorant!’ exclaimed Mariukka dramatically and fell on her pillow!

Kacper was worried. He needed to do something! He was a gentleman after all, and Mariukka needed her deodorant. He rushed to speak to the monks. ‘Do you have any women around here?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Excuse me… did I hear you right?’ responded the monk somehow shocked. ‘You have been unconscious for days, and all what you are asking for are women?’ Kacper realised that the monks misunderstood him terribly. He started explaining frantically that Mariukka was a real lady, and her deodorant had been stolen, and that he – Kacper, the gentleman, needed to do something about it! They realised that Kacper’s body must have not extracted the poison yet, and hence his strange behaviour. They just smiled, and offered to share with him remaining of their after-shave lotion instead! Kacper picked the bottle, and rather pleased with his mission run to see Mariukka. ‘All they had was this after shave, Mariukka!’ She didn't seem to mind to be using the after-shave, intstead of the favourite deodorant! She opened the bottle, and sprayed the liquid all around her in hefty amounts. She seemed happy again. Perhaps smelled slightly less conservative, but all what counted was her happiness!

Their friends in Quetta looked at Mariukka and Kacper with shock and disbelief, when they heard about their adventure. You are going to hospital now, you will need to be checked – both of you, and then we need to call your embassies…

PS. Kacper is reading the reports of pork/swine flu in Mexico.

Homo Sovieticus - Post 18

2009-04-25T06:50:00.008+02:00

‘Am I a typical example of a Homo Sovieticus?’ wondered Kacper. ‘Was it actually a bad thing to be a Homo Sovieticus?’ he carried on? He tried to recall, which of the Polish politicians made this term to be really popular back in Poland. He knew, it was first introduced by one of the respected Catholic philosophers, a priest – Józef Tischner. Tischner, in this way, described people, who were brainwashed by the previous system, and behaved in a very opportunistic manner during the ‘new’ era. Although, Kacper did not remember exactly, how the term got politicised, and famous in the following years, he was sure, some right wing politicians picked it, and used it to offend their political opponents.

Kacper actually was fond of the term, and often considered his own definitions of, who a Homo Sovieticus was. Today, he got reminded of it, because of his Italian friend, who works with him here in Chad – Marco, who loves teasing Kacper about his ex-Soviet origin, something that Kacper is enjoying, but would never admit to him!

As for all of us, also Kacper’s childhood experiences influenced, who he became later in his live. His 18 years, in the totalitarian, communistic system, made him to be the Homo Sovieticus! Later, he would wane himself off some characteristics attributed to the term, but Kacper is aware that no matter, how hard he tried, he would always be one, and therefore, it was just better to accept, and even like this part of himself.

He often wondered what made him to be a classic product of the communist system. Kacper already speculated about it, in some of his previous stories on life in totalitarian Poland (Post 5, followed with some remarks in Post 14). He was convinced however that, what influenced him most, was the country’s educational system.

He remembers so well that during his literature, or history lessons, students were not encouraged to have their own opinions on any topic. On the contrary, having your own opinions was considered to be arrogant, and arrogance needed to be eradicated! Students had to read books, but they also needed to read additional materials accompanying these books, ‘explaining’ them values, their novels represented, and how the students should interpret them. History lessons were very similar. One could never challenge any of the messages coming from the teacher. It was just not possible, so no one even thought about it. In the same time, the system promoted science, mathematics, physics, or subjects, which were not considered to be controversial, or thought to undermine the system. Memorising things was good, your own thinking was bad. Simple as that!

In consequence, Kacper’s schools, perhaps made him to be fairly logical, organised, and able to employ figures and numbers into action, but completely undermined his confidence.

Obviously, differences in living standards between Eastern and Western Europe made many people, including Kacper; feel to be ‘somebody worse’… ‘Oh yes, I definitely suffered from the inferiority complex’ reflected Kacper. ‘Especially, when I was young, and things just started changing in Poland.’

His first painful confrontation with the post-communist reality took place in 1990. Kacper was planning to go to the United Kingdom for a short summer course of English language. He always liked learning languages, and he did exceptionally well in English in his High School of Nowy Sacz. Kacper was certainly very lucky! Once, he won a scholarship, funded by the Mayor of the Town Council, which would pay his fees and living expenses, while in London. His family however, needed to cover travel costs.

In those days, Kacper’s family was not very wealthy at all. They were not as poor, as in 80’ies, when things were really tough for them, but a bus ticket from Poland to the UK equalled around 4 monthly salaries of his mother. Taking a plane was so expensive that was simply unthinkable.

He remembers his parents discussing, whether they could afford sending him to London. Kacper had an older brother, who already studied architecture at the Polytechnic of Krakow, and supporting him was a big financial burden for the family. He therefore did not have his hopes very high, and did not want to put more pressure on his parents. He was then so surprised to hear that, they will pay for the ticket! ‘Kacper, this is a great chance for you’ said his father. ‘We will somehow manage’ confirmed his mother, and added that the bus was not so expensive after all. They were so sweet! Kacper knew that she only told him so, not to make him feel guilty. He kissed them both and was so proud, so proud to be their son.

In the beginning of 1990’ies, it was not easy for Poles to travel outside of the borders of their country. The citizens of Poland needed visas literally everywhere in the world, and it was difficult getting them. In order to make it to the UK overland, Kacper needed a transit visa for Germany, and Benelux countries. Obviously, he needed a visa to enter the UK too!

As soon as he saw masses forming an endless queue, he knew he must have arrived to the German Consulate in Warsaw. ‘Is this a queue for visas to Germany?’ he politely asked. ‘And what do you think it is… Standing here for pleasure, you think?’ an older lady with a cigarette in her lips snapped at him. ‘Dear…’ she continued. ‘We are waiting here to register in the queuing list…’ she decided to be a bit nicer to Kacper. ‘…Once we get to the building, they will take your details, give you a number, then you will be officially registered in the queue’. She then told him that, once registered, Kacper needed to come to the embassy every day to check, which numbers would be served on that particular day. It was important to do it properly, as if one missed one’s turn, the whole process needed to be repeated, and she doubted, whether Kacper wanted it. ‘Are you telling me Madam that we are now queuing, so that we are registered in another queue?’ asked Kacper somehow disbelieving, what he had just heard. ‘Yeah, tell me about it, kid’ confirmed the woman rolling her eyes impatiently. ‘Bloody bustards! Look how they treat us!’ she concluded angrily.

Kacper had his interview 4 days later. ‘Why are you travelling to Germany?’ asked a rather unpleasant officer in good Polish. ‘I am actually not going to Germany, Sir; just want to transit the country… I have explained in the application that, I am transiting to the UK’ went on Kacper. ‘What will you do in the UK?’ came the next question. Kacper did not understand why the German guy would care what he was going to do in the UK, but answered as politely as he could that he was going to participate in the language course. ‘Who will pay for it…’ he went on, an kept on asking all these silly questions. For the first time in his life, Kacper understood that people actually did not like him, just because he was poor… It was not a nice thing to realise. At that point during the interview, something broke in Kacper, and tears started flowing out of his eyes to his cheeks… This must have puzzled the German official a bit. He did not really know how to handle the crying kid. ‘Wanna have some water?’ he asked giving him a glass. ‘Cheer up, young man’ he went on. ‘Come back in 2 hours, your visa will be in your passport by then.’

Getting Benelux and UK visas was nearly as dramatic, but Kacper cleared all procedures, and he was ready to travel!

He arrived to the coach station well in advance to make sure; he was not going to miss the bus. He waited, and waited, and while doing so, enjoyed watching other passengers gather. He really was excited! The hour of departure arrived, but the bus was nowhere to be seen… 30 minutes, 1 hour… still no bus!

Some 90 minutes later, a young man, dressed in a suit came and addressed the crowd of impatient people. ‘Ladies and gentleman, I would like your attention please!’ Everyone looked at him wondering what was happening. ‘I am afraid that the bus to London will not leave today’ he announced. ‘Our company has just gone bankrupt’ he added laconically, and smiled. Kacper does not remember what happened later. He just thought of his mother, and the money… ALL WASTED! He was not travelling to England, he would not be learning English this summer!

In the afternoon, he called his mother, from the flat of his uncle, with whom he stayed, while in Warsaw. He told her about his day, and informed her that he would be taking his train back to Nowy Sacz the following day. He tried to make sure that she could not detect in his voice, how disappointed he was.

Hours later, just before he was about to fall asleep, his uncle knocked at the door of his bedroom. ‘Kacper, you need to wake up at 6 in the morning, you are FLYING TO LONDON tomorrow’ he just told him, trying not to show how pleased he was. ‘What do you mean uncle?’ asked Kacper. ‘You heard me!’ he exclaimed, and hugged Kacper.

His plane was just about to start descending towards Heathrow. Kacper still could not believe, he was on his way to London. He felt happy, and moved in the same time, while looking at two notes of £50 that he found in the ENVELOPE…

Kacper only managed to be going to the UK, as his uncle decided, he would spend some of his savings on Kacper’s air ticket. ‘Make sure that your English is fluent, when you are back’ he demanded from Kacper, before he allowed him out of his car, in front of the airport. He also handed him an envelope. ‘Don’t tell your mother, you have it, understand…? And only open it in the plane!’ he instructed surprised Kacper.

19 years later, in Abeche, Kacper still smiles subconsciously, when he recalls his first trip to the West. He remembers London to overwhelm him in every way. The Homo Sovieticus part of Kacper’s character, made him feel very, very shy, and unimportant in this world of colours, full-shelves in shops (in those days, one could not buy lots of products in Poland), music and money; lots of money that Kacper did not have. That is except, the 2 notes of £50 from his generous uncle.

PS. Kacper was unimpressed with gossips that rebels were coming and he, and his colleagues might need to evacuate.