Aid workers are constantly in a foreign land. In our home countries we struggle to connect with university friends and to explain our career choices, oftentimes to ourselves. In our host countries we struggle with perceptions and stereotypes, simultaneously battling and reinforcing them. In both places we find love in hopelessness and frustration in simplicity.
Such is the life of an aid worker. And such is the portrayal of Mary-Anne and her slew of heroes and anti-heroes in “Missionary, Mercenary, Mystic, Misfit” (#MMMM), the second piece of 'aid worker fiction' by anonymous author J. of Tales from the Hood blogosphere fame.
#MMMM picks up where “Disastrous Passion: A Humanitarian Romance Novel” left off, with Mary-Anne having moved from post-earthquake Haiti to drought- and conflict-prone Horn of Africa, the latter of which I know well from personal experience. The area between the Somali Region of Ethiopia and Somalia proper, in all its dusty and wind-blown glory, holds a special place in my heart. The Somalis. The Highlanders - foreigners in their own country. The idealists. The braying donkeys. The warm St. George. The stress. The fulfillment.
And thus the nostalgia emanating from #MMMM's 130 pages flows like the Webi Shebelle in rainy season. It is acronym and jargon-heavy, just like our business, and it transports aid workers into a sometimes uncomfortable / sometimes humorous self-reflective posture: was I in that 'life-saving' coordination meeting? Did I have one too many lukewarm beers under that same tree? Am I a "deployment smoker"?
In this way, one can almost overlook the dangled story lines and the sometimes choppy narrative, though somewhere my high school English teacher is cringing at the thought. For me these imperfections somehow reflect the predictable chaos of aid work, whether this effect is intended or not.
Mary-Anne is the altruistic, newly minted rising star that all aid workers knew we would become sooner rather than later upon signing up for that first post overseas. Her mentor (and sometimes object of complicated desire) in the Dolo Ado refugee camp is Jon, a seasoned aid worker desperately trying to juggle professional and family demands while imparting on Mary-Anne (and us) his deep wisdom of a complicated world. Mulu Alem represents Ethiopian ‘Highlanders’ in the story, a government bureaucrat hopelessly stuck miles away from his love, the beautiful Aster, who (I believe is the same person that) nurses Brandon, the hapless former boss of Mary-Anne, back to health in Addis Ababa. Mark is the know-it-all Oxfam America director to whom relief environments are made infuriatingly more complicated by seasoned veterans like Jon. Jean-Philippe, who swept Mary-Anne (Mehreee-ahhhhn) off her feet in Haiti and followed her to an apartment in Nairobi that neither of them ever see, is relegated to the back seat of this tale, leaving young Mary-Anne to seek out more available outlets for her frustration and celebration. Ali is the sharp-shooting Somali teenager with a penchant for jihad.
The story is very real for those who have been there (read: in the 'field' doing humanitarian aid work) before. For those that haven’t, #MMMM is a rare ‘real’ glimpse into the strange, and often misunderstood, world of international humanitarian aid, told from the viewpoint of a few pawns with broad-sweeping implications for an entire industry. The skewed funding priorities that may or may not line up with need. The ever-present fight for finite resources between charities, all vying to “pee on a few bushes” in the humanitarian disaster du jour.
Ultimately, #MMMM represents all that is good, bad and ugly about humanitarian aid. It is real yet fictitious (J. makes certain of pointing out that this is a work of fiction on several occasions). It is equal parts hopeless and inspiring. It is flippant yet wise. It personifies an industry’s own collective anonymity.
And it’s well worth your time.
“Missionary, Mercenary, Mystic, Misfit” ($3.99) is available for download at Amazon.