Heisenberg

I realized this morning that the primary aim of my being here has never really been disclosed. I have talked so much about of life's aspects with one minute exception, work. Hopefully, this will shed some light on it.

"What do you do?" A rather pertinent inquiry, and one I am frequently asked. Let's first differentiate between the implied meanings of the question by asking more specific questions such as "What is your job title?", "What is your job description?", "In what field of expertise are you trained and proficient?", "What is the plan for your project?", and "What on earth do you actually accomplish?". Now let's divulge some answers. I actually have no idea what my job title is. My equally indeterminate job description might read something like this if it existed: "attempt to create something something capable of surviving a thermonuclear fusion reaction and fix everything that has already succumbed to much less." Area of expertise? If trained and proficient must both apply, then nothing. But I am a trained engineer who is almost proficient in the American dialect. When taken together, these skills are valuable as an ice cube maker in an Antarctic kitchen freezer. Why? Because I don't speak French or Kinyarwanda and almost nobody speaks English.

The remaining questions require lengthier answers, and all attempts will be make to keep it simple. My primary job entails designing and installing a water storage and distribution system for Mugonero Hospital. This includes purchasing all the parts, arranging transport, paying the laborers, and ensuring everything is built properly. The plan involves building a stone structure to elevate water tanks, laying new pipes to the hospital buildings, and simplifying the system in the process. But what actually gets done? On many days, the evidence suggests I accomplish absolutely nothing. What evidence? First of all, the hospital is occasionally without water (and it always happens when talking to a specific individual). Secondly, a quick comparison of the hospital grounds before I arrived and now would reveal only two differences. The first is a large hole in the ground and the second is a large pile of rocks waiting to fill that hole (and the 3 meters of air above it). By now, you must think I am the laziest person alive. But here's why. I usually discover the water is broken on my own, which occurs about 8-12 hours after it actually broke. By this time, it's too dark to find the problem, much less fix it. The slow construction is because of communication, or rather lack of it. Before I left for Malawi, I instructed the foreman to build the foundation in my absence. This lasted all of one day. The people who know where the current pipes are located didn't tell the foreman that he was about to unearth a concrete valve box. The foreman couldn't call me for a new plan because I was out of the country. The hospital administration didn't contact me until 4 days later, at which point I couldn't understand what they were saying (they are doctors and businessmen) and told them to stop the work (which had happened several days prior). I returned to Rwanda in time to prepare for a geophysical survey team. The team neglected to tell me they had delayed their arrival from Sunday to Thursday. That threw a wrench in the plan after I had dedicated Monday and Tuesday to working with them.

One last question might be "How do you function?". Several answers come to mind. Inefficiently (with little communication, at least three side projects, and a need for social interaction, is this surprising?) seems to best suit the question. Stressed is a common state because my flight leaves in two months and the project looks about 5% done. I have been rather frustrated because I don't like change and the plan has been constantly changing. One thing more terrifying than change is uncertainty. Uncertainty about how long this project will take, how long this system will last, how effective my time here will be, how the donors will want to redirect the project, what I will do when I leave here, where I will go. You know, Werner Heisenberg was dead on with his uncertainty principle. I know my location in life, but don't know my momentum (especially direction, and this is needed because momentum is a vector). Or conversely, I know my project's momentum, but don't fully understand the position in which I find myself. Yes, an igloo in Nunavut sounds fantastic right now. But burying my head in the snow and ignoring all the roadblocks isn't an option. Delay trumps abandonment because delay, unlike neglect, means progress is possible.

Paradise

You have heard me rave about the glories of Rwanda. The green that permeates everything, the frequent rain, the mild climate, pineapples whenever you so desire, a bus schedule, and people willing to help. If you visited and I inquired where you were, one of your first thoughts would be paradise. All of this land is grand and dandy, but what really is a paradise? I have been contemplating what a utopian snapshot of life is. What makes it so idyllic, so perfect? If you are a wee munchkin, it might be a summer day at the park with your mates and a monstrous birthday cake. A engineering student would agree that a day with sleep and without homework ranks at the top of the list. Me? I would like a day with people, people who speak English, people with whom a conversation is more than a formality, people who live and think the way I do.

Last week, I got my wish. On March 1st, I boarded a plane bound for Lilongwe, Malawi. Another purchase shipped me to Blantyre. Despite planning and attempts to contact friends, they were completely unaware as to where I was and I was oblivious to their cluelessness. Needless to say, my second arrival in Malawi was as disorganized as my first. But I stumbled through the door just in time for a glass of water, a stocked fridge, ten smiling faces, and open arms. I also arrived just in time to not join a conference call about my own project, but after 6 hours of sleep over the previous 60 hours, I didn't care.

Wednesday and Thursday, it was back to work, albeit volunteering at Malamulo. With a dam inspection, a roofing project, some sink faucet issues, CAD projects, and a water board account assessment, who had time for Snickers bars in Elisa's office or a trip to the movies? Friday morning dawned, earlier for some of us than others. Cristy, Elisa, Diane, and I jumped into the car and headed to Blantyre for some food, petrol, and Jonathan. With the car filled on all three accounts, we departed for Lake Malawi. The weekend plan? Read, swim, eat, sleep, repeat. And we stuck to it! Our only deviation was a kayak trip with snorkeling on Sunday. This slideshow doesn't even begin to convey the extent of our good times. (Facebook has some more pictures)



What did I take away from this excursion? It reminded me of the importance of people. People with whom you can share a cup of tea, a memory, and a laugh. People with whom you can keep a secret, divulge a struggle, and embrace after a rough day. You say that I can call you any time on any day, which is true. But your digitally reconstructed voice won't allow me to chop onions for your soup, it can't rub lotion on sunburns, nor will it let me take your mug to the kitchen. A phone call won't let me sit on your sofa, read a book, and be glad you joined me. I had impatiently waited months for interaction like this, but have now returned to live in a different paradise.