Haiti – Patience

Well, it’s time to come clean here: I have shortcomings.

I know that’s a startling revelation for those of you that know me.  I know that’s impossible to even conceptualize.  I mean, I present this aura of impenetrable perfection, right?  Everything I say is a pearl of wisdom that should be transcribed as soon as it falls from my lips.  My touch is from Midas himself; I leave a trail of gold in my wake.  You should consider it the highpoint of your life to be associated with me.  If you could only see how hard I’m laughing right now; there was no way I could type that with a straight face.  I was hoping that I could psyche myself into believing it.  Alas, no soap.  It’s not working this time.

I’m writing this to confess that the glaring imperfection in my body armour is patience.  I suck at practicing it, largely because I don’t have much of it.  This is the test I’m facing right now, and truth be told if I received a report card on my performance over the last two days I would receive a big honkin’ “F”.  In all honesty, I’m not exactly OK with that either.  Simon has been off the grid for more than twenty four hours, and try as I might I’m not having a lot of success in keeping my mind from assuming something has happened.  In case you haven’t read my other posts, he’s currently in Haiti providing aid.  Since yesterday’s major aftershock I haven’t heard anything.

It’s not like he and I haven’t done this before: we’re both experienced professionals when it comes down to walking into hell on earth and doing our best to not wind up dead.  It’s been our stock-and-trade for the last few years.  Our paths have crossed in a situation or two but based on our individual expertise we end up working separately together.  There was something clawing at me when I put Simon on the plane for this trip.  Initially, I thought it was me and I wrote a post about that very subject.  Now I’m not entirely sure that epiphany was accurate.

So, I wait for word from him.  Tick, tock….

Erring on the side of caution, when I was on my layover in New York and heard of the aftershock I decided to camp out here for a few days until I heard from him.  The idea of being in the air for eight hours and out of communication didn’t sit with me well, so I took advantage of the fact that I have an ex-boyfriend who lives in the city and I have a key to his place.  I’ve never been more grateful for the fact that even after we separated we maintained a wonderful friendship.  One phone call later I have full access to his place.

Several months ago, we had a long discussion about our jobs and how they don’t exactly lend themselves to a being able to communicate at will.  We can’t just pick up the phone or drop an email; the job at hand can put a bullet in that one.  So, I wrote a program for our phones that starts up once a day; you’re required to key in a pass code and once you do that, it will report the GPS location to the other phone on Google Maps.  You can’t clear it off your screen – the phone is a brick until you input the code which is the correct pattern of the dots lock on the Droid.  Trace the right pattern, and you’re golden.  That’s your once-a-day check-in.  If we can’t call or email, it’s our own “hey – I’m all good” that doesn’t require a working cell tower to function. There’s also an emergency unlock code that, when used boils down to “I can’t communicate, but I’m in fucking trouble here, dude..”   It’s also handy if the phone is lost or stolen.  After 3 mistakes on the code, it completely wipes the memory on the phone and it’s 100% useless.  It’s a long technical story on how it works, but the short version is that I used to write code for RIM to pay the bills.  There could very well be a program on your blackberry that I’ve had a hand in.  Some of the chaperone software that parents put on their kids cell phone is based on this very program.  What I have on our phones is one of a kind; I have no intentions of marketing this one.

He’s 18 hours overdue on check in at this point.  Neither code sent at all.  Tick, tock….

Do I have the single slightest shred of proof something has happened to Simon?  Nope; I got nothing.  Even faced with that irrefutable dose of logic, it doesn’t do anything to diminish the feeling I have in my gut.  To that end, there have also been no reports of aid workers hurt, missing, or killed as of today.  Good News, but I can’t pin all my hopes on that one.  In 2004 while I was in Indonesia I was reported as killed (when I was technically missing and unable to establish communication), and two days after that I was listed as missing when in fact I had established my presence with local officials.  My parents and partner had no clue if I needed rescue or to claim my remains.  So, not a lot of comfort in this report, and I base that on my personal experience in the field.  There’s far too much chaos on the ground to accept this as concrete fact.

Tick, tock…

So, I meditate – a lot.  I work out – a lot.  I sleep – not so much.  I pray for some diversion to get out of my own head, pray for a good message when I do receive one, and pray for a little bit more patience.

Tick, tock….

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