As far as dream jobs go, UNICEF is right up there for me. It's early days yet (two weeks yesterday actually) and it's not all celebrity glitz and media glam, but I'm living in a developing country and some concessions must be made.
I'm working with a lovely team of communication professionals (with extensive journalistic and development experience) and there's plenty of free coffee. Ok, it's not the best coffee in the world but there is a guy to make it for me (if I was the type to let him).
I arrived to a brand new computer, desk and pod (this might not sound like an achievement, but some AYADs have spent considerable time sitting on the floor of dimly lit corridors). But like so many things here in Bangladesh you take one step forward to take two steps back...I'm still waiting on my personal log-in, email and ID card and there's not alot I can do without them.
Of course a level of beaurocracy was expected. Quite this level is a suprise, but "it is what it is". Perhaps every communications team in every large agency is undervalued and overlooked? Perhaps approval process and proceedure really is an administrative nightmare in every large agency? Naivety and wide-eyed hope are quickly being replaced with something that feels a bit like realism.
The work itself is another example of inherent contrast. One day I was literally in the media spotlight (A bideshi at an event is quite something. Children want their photo taken with you, the media can't get enough of you, and apparently I'll often be asked to make a SPEECH and SING for the masses who have no idea what I'm saying. Apparently I'll get used to it! HORRIFIED, completely and utterly mortified. But as mum kindly pointed out, they'll only ask me to sing once...indeed!) The next day I was visiting orphans, listening to horrific stories of abuse and neglect and wishing I could save them all.
On a daily basis my job consists of editing English language stories and documents, updating factsheets and restructuring and producing the quarterley newsletter. To write stories for the newsletter, I'll be sent on field trips all over Bangladesh. This will be a great opportunity to see how UNICEF's projects are making a real difference on the ground but I have a feeling the things I'll see will be confronting (to say the least).
It took some effort to push images of overcrowded buses, tents, dirt, insects, no shower or toilet or privacy from my mind and summon the positivity required to 'rough it' on said field trips. (Why the hell didn't I pay more attention at Girl Guides as a child? And how did I get to be such a bloody princess?) However, it seems I'll be driven around in a UNICEF 4WD, with a police escort and hotel accomodation. Now this is the sort of roughing it I can handle!
For those of you who were concerned (as I was), I did make it in to work by myself on the first day (and every day thereafter actually). Catching a rickshaw, even with my limited Bangla, has been quite easy...particularly now that our apartment security guard knows where I need to go and organises the trip (and a fair price) for me every morning.
In other news
* I've bought my first saree for an event tonight. There is a whole book that is yet to be written about the intricacies of fashion here and I could do to read it, but I'm learning them one mistake at a time. Watch this space for photo evidence.
* We are having our housewarming this Friday night. The theme is 'yellow' as, according to Matt ('Lawyer Matt' as he is regularly referred - and LOVES it), all things here (particularly food) is yellow...certainly my complexion is likely to be Saturday morning.
* A bunch of us are heading to Cox's Bazaar and St Martens (island off the south east coast, near Burma) for Eid. (The bloody Eid - where animals are slaughtered and the streets run with red...can't wait). Should be a lovely relaxing couple of days (except for the fact we're sleeping in TENTS...hello, I'm a PRINCESS!)
* I STILL haven't been sick! My concern now is that I won't be sick much at all and will return to Australia looking like the girl who swallowed Casey...
* Being a woman in a Muslim country continues to test me. The staring is one thing. The arse grabs, boob pokes, blatant chest staring and jeering is quite another. Smiling at strangers is something I'm (sadly)learning not to do. A smile is much to say "yes, it's true, I am a loose western woman and would like nothing more than to have sex with you." Of course, a smile is not necessary to create this impression. Apparently even walking quickly and avoiding eye contact can provoke an arse grab or elicit a range of sexist and defamatory comments. Sexual repression has a lot to answer for. A blog dedicated to life as a woman, and a bideshi, in a secular society to follow I think.
