Thursdays at the Food Bank

The Dalhousie Food Cupboard is a distribution point for the Ottawa Food Bank. It's open Wednesdays and Thursdays 10:30 to 1:00 in the Bronson Centre. During the pandemic clients have lined up outside and been served either outside or inside depending on the weather. People who live in the geographical area of the DFC are eligible to receive three days worth of perishable and non-perishable food items per month. In pre-covid times volunteers interviewed clients to help better meet their individual needs. 

In March, the COVID-19 Pandemic reached Ottawa. I suddenly had to switch to teaching and working from home in my small one-bedroom apartment. These conditions were not what I had imagined when I moved in. 

Despite the fact I was still working about sixty hour weeks at the beginning of the pandemic, I was struck by a feeling of needing to do something to help. With training in peacebuilding and some limited experience in public health and emergency management I felt like I should have something to offer, but I didn't know what. 

So, I became what seemed like one of hundreds of people in Ottawa scrolling through volunteer postings. I imagined that I wanted to support the foodbank in some way, but whenever I looked their volunteer positions were all full. I was visiting the site often enough that I eventually realized when the postings were being made, so I logged on one Friday night and jumped at an opportunity at the Dalhousie Food Cupboard which happened to be in the same building my day-job had been in until we were locked-down. 

When I attended my first volunteer shift the following week I wasn't sure what to expect. No one was wearing face masks yet but we were trying to physically distance. After the coordinator and one of the regular volunteers sized up the new recruits, I was asked to help with the filing. It took some time to build trust that I was going to do an adequate job. 

Over the subsequent weeks I gradually transitioned into performing data entry, ensuring that each client's visit to the DFC was recorded. This helps to track visits and to ensure that the DFC has enough food to distribute on a weekly basis. I liked this job because it let me get to know the other volunteers and observe the other roles they were playing. They're all great and I hope I've made some long-term friends here.

Concurrently, I started baking at home. I initially picked this up because I was worried that the first lockdown would prevent me the tasty sweets that I knew would get me through this difficult period. I quickly realized that the recipes I was using yielded much more than I could eat, and so I needed to find someone to share my treats with. The other volunteers at the foodbank during our shared lunches seemed like the perfect choice. 

I initially started making bundt cakes but then I branched out and tried layer cakes. These baking adventures helped me to develop a new skill that I don't think I would otherwise  have, as well as building my relationship with the other volunteers. When I shared this effort on twitter one night under #createtogether, I even got a shout out from Joseph Gordon Levitt for my efforts *swoon*. 

As the summer went on the number of clients using the food bank started to increase along with the number of positive COVID test results in Ottawa. Many of the volunteers at the DFC are seniors and the increased case load caused some volunteers to suspend their work or take on different roles. As a result, I've had the chance to start conducting intake, which involves verifying people's identities and their eligibility to use the foodbank. 

I have really enjoyed this role because it has given me an opportunity to meet clients and hear their stories. I've shared excitement with people who have recently been released from prison or regained access to their children, and sorrow with people suffering from unimaginable losses, including sometimes losing their groceries at the hand of neighbours, from already precarious positions. I always felt that I was a relatively empathetic person, but I feel like this experience has really helped me to better understand the range of lived experiences of people in my own community. 

Working at the front door I also get to observe many of the stories being lived-out in the foodbank line. Some days are more interesting than others. We had a couple of weeks where several clients had trouble containing their emotions, leading to angry outbursts. The hardest part of this role for me is having to turn clients away when they have consistently failed to provide proper identification.  For the most part though, people are friendly and curious. The DFC's clients seem to have some of the gentlest, well-trained dogs around and it's always a pleasure when they come to visit with their owners. (The dog in the picture belongs to one of the employees of the Bronson Centre. I am her favourite foodbank volunteer :D) 

The best story from the foodbank line to date was by far the Christmas miracle of December 17, 2020. When I approached a single mom and her daughter to collect their ID, the mom leaned in and explained that a man had just handed her an envelope, said "Merry Christmas" and walked away. When I asked what was in the envelope she said "$400!". She was actually in line to pick-up a gift for her daughter. I hope the special gift made both of their holidays a little bit brighter. 

I didn't accomplish any of the things that I had hoped for in 2020. I didn't find a permanent job, academic or otherwise. I didn't get to go on planned trips to Toronto, New York or the Philippines or move to Halifax. I didn't buy a dog or make any progress towards finding love. I could drone on. 

I did however, find another piece of the puzzle that I have been searching for, for a long time. Community. 

Wishing everyone a brighter 2021. Let's get through the rest of the pandemic together. 

What's in a Year?

With lots of people reflecting on social media about their past year and even decade, it has me thinking about how to summarize what happened over the last year. In once sentence I think I would describe it as a year of heartache, unexpected travel and slow progress. 

Heartache

2019 started off with an expected loss that I was not in anyway ready for, which was of course the death of Paul Dewar. I've written about this in a previous post but enough to say that I continue to remember this man, who deeply inspired me, often. 

I was especially reminded of him working in his previous Parliamentary office in the first part of the year for now retired MP Hélène Laverdière. I very much valued working in her office, and had amazing opportunities to contribute to Canadian foreign policy through this role, but the job was also a struggle in many ways. When my contract ended at the end of May I felt like my long-term dream of working at Parliament had ended in frustration and disappointment. On a higher note I am delighted to have made some strong friendships with other progressive people through this role and so I do have something to be grateful for. 



In August I started a new role doing project coordination and human rights advocacy related to the Philippines and Palestine-Israel. That same month I traveled to the Philippines to meet with partners and learn about the human rights situation. I was most affected when we met the wife and daughter of Brandon Lee, an American Human Rights Activist who narrowly survived being shot in the face by a masked man in front of his daughter. During our meeting his daughter cycled through phases of anger, grief, guilt and normalcy which was very troubling to watch, and his colleague who had also joined us cried throughout our time together. When the daughter was calmer, she was making paper cranes, trying to get to 1000 to wish for her father's recovery. It goes without saying the this kind of attack is a serious violation of human rights, and was far from an isolated incident. In December the Executive Director of one of our partner organizations received death and rape threats after participating in a march for international human rights day. 

Soon after I came back from the Philippines in September, I also witnessed a cyclist get hit by a car, two bikes ahead of me. I helped to coordinate the response and helped to move her off the road. She was thankfully not as badly hurt as anyone had anticipated and me and another cyclist stayed with her until her partner was able to join her about an hour later. This incident has really stuck with me.

Unexpected Travel

My unexpected trips were really the highlight of 2019. 

In March I was speaking to a colleague at Carleton when one of the admins came to ask her whether she was available to accompany a group of students on a trip to Washington. When she responded in the negative I, jokingly, suggested that I could go, and to my amazement everyone agreed. It was a super cool trip. On the trip at the end of April we got to visit the State Department, World Bank, and Canadian Embassy among other amazing places. On our free day on the trip I also got a personalized tour of the U.S. Institute for Peace where several officials met with me to explain their operations in a response to a proposal for a peace institute that I prepared as part of my parliamentary work. Drafting that proposal was certainly a highlight of that role. 



After my contract ended at parliament in June, I took my first international vacation as an adult and I traveled to Europe visiting Switzerland, France and Germany. In Switzerland, I enjoyed eating fondue and chocolate and visiting local museums. I also saw my first opera, the Marriage of Figaro at the Zurich Opera House, and was pleasantly surprised to learn it was a comedy. In France, I enjoyed seeing historic building in Strasbourg and visiting European Parliament. I also had the pleasure of reconnecting with my friend Lukas in Munich, who I met on exchange in the Netherlands in 2006. It had been 10 years since we had last seen each other so there was a lot to catch up on. I also learned that Alpine mountain climbing is not for me :). 



My trip to the Philippines was also very much unexpected. Positive highlight included visiting the Asian continent for the first time, meeting my friend Hansky's parents and hanging out with the moderator of the United Church of Canada. Oh and eating a piece of cake at every snack time.



Slow Progress

Teaching has also been a major aspect of this year. I taught my first course at the MA level in the autumn of 2018. In January of 2019, I was distressed to discover that while I loved teaching that course, that I had received a relatively low (read mediocre) teaching evaluation. This coincided with some challenging interactions with students in a fourth year law and legal studies course that I had picked up in addition to my planned classes at the graduate level in foreign affairs. 

Although I was initially very disheartened to learn about my initial attempt at teaching, the mediocre evaluation sparked a major effort to improve. In the winter I sought mentorship from the Education Development Centre at Carleton and went on to take a Certificate of University Teaching over the summer. Although I felt that completing the certificate only contributed to minor adjustments in my pedagogy, it led to a major improvement in my interactions with most of my students. I am still learning how to work with students who are resistant to my teaching style and/or personality. 

In the autumn, in addition to teaching a re-imagined version of my original course I also taught a course on gender and development in French. This was a very challenging experience and I couldn't have done it without my amazing teaching assistant. 

I have also made some progress in my overall health. In 2019 I had more migraines than I had ever had, cumulatively, at any other point in my life. My migraines are debilitating and involve and hour of relative blindness followed by three hours of extreme pain and nausea. Luckily on a visit to the doctor I took the time to describe my symptoms, and my doctor suggested I might be having hypoglycemic attacks, and that I should start eating small snacks every 2-3 hours. Although it's too early to say whether this step has permanently alleviated my migraines, I think it has really improved my overall health. I have more energy, my skin is clearer and my weight is down (no more migraines to date either!). I'm hoping to consolidate these gains by becoming more physically active over the winter. 

Although I can't say I feel like I made a lot of professional progress over the last year in terms of being a development practitioner, I would say I've learned a lot about the Canadian political system, Palestine-Israel and the Philippines, which I guess is positive. 

What's Getting Me Through?

As you can tell its been a difficult year. My friends are always a source of comfort and support. I have also greatly enjoyed continuing to volunteer with an accessible children's class with Propeller Dance. Working with the dancers has been a major sources of joy and fulfillment for me. I also greatly enjoyed gardening over the summer and pottery in the fall.

What's Coming up in 2020?

My goal by the end of the year is to have a single employer and for it to be an academic one. I applied for a post-doc in the autumn, the results will be released in February and if I was successful I'll be returning to Halifax. I also have a couple of outstanding academic job applications and I am in a hiring process for a Foreign Service officer position at Immigration, Refugee and Citizenship Canada, although these are less likely to pan out. 

Until then, I'll be teaching my peacebuilding course and continuing plodding along as a practitioner. 

Peace

Remembering Paul Dewar

In late 2010 I was finishing my M.A. in International Development at Dalhousie and I was about to lose my job at Public Safety. Although my student position had gone well, a hiring freeze had been imposed on the department and there was no position for me to be bridged into. Not sure what to do next I sought advice from nearly anyone who would talk to me, including my older room mate's friend, who suggested I might try volunteering for a member of Parliament. She put me in touch with one of her friends who was working for the All-Party Parliamentary Committee on the Prevention of Genocide, based in Paul Dewar's office while I reached out to the MP from the last riding I had voted in Megan Leslie. Both offices took me on as a volunteer. 

I gained a lot of experience in Megan's office, including how to run the public campaign for an MP's private members bill, but it was Paul's critic area, foreign affairs, which really drew me in. I worked with his staff to help organize a panel event for the first National Day of Action and Remembrance for the Crime of Genocide. Soon after the event took place the 2011 election was called and I dedicated the time I had spent at Parliament volunteering on Paul's campaign. I watched the NDP gain official opposition status from his victory party. 

I spent the following two years mostly outside of Ottawa, working with conflict-affected communities in Northern Uganda and with Government Assisted Refugees in Kitchener. 

In April 2013 my contract had come to an end in Kitchener and I was waiting for responses to my Ph.D. applications. Feeling a little lost again, my then room mate Brock suggested that we start something in the community. Within a couple of days Paul presented Bill C-486 the Conflict Minerals Act in the House of Commons for the first time, which was an invitation to engage Canadians on the conflict in the Congo, something I cared deeply about. The KW Just Minerals Campaign was born. My room mate and I spent the summer working with a small group of volunteers from the local NDP riding association and Engineers Without Borders collecting petition signatures to support C-486 and holding public education events about conflict minerals. It was a wonderful way to get to know the community that I was living in. 

In the autumn I returned to Ottawa to start my Ph.D. I reconnected with Paul's office, wondering if I might be able to support the national campaign. That's when they told me that I could run it. I was beyond excited, dedicating much of my time away from my Ph.D. engaging stakeholders, running a social media campaign, producing communication materials and running events. Even after the Bill failed to pass second reading I continued to manage the campaign from his office and sought to maintain momentum among the large group of stakeholders until the next election.

Like in 2011, in 2015 I spent much of my free time volunteering on Paul's election campaign, but it ended differently this time. Instead of attending a victory party, I held a sobbing 19 year old boy sobbing in my arms at a polling station. Paul had lost. 

What's remarkable about this story, is that it all happened before I was 30. Paul and his staff gave me the space to develop event planning and canvassing skills and then later invited me to manage a national advocacy campaign before I was 30. 

Two things convinced me that Paul Dewar was worth his weight in gold, and all of the hours that I dedicated to he and his office over the year. The first was that he always had time for me. Whenever we were in the office together, he was keen to know how things were going with my Ph.D. and would offer advice or stories related to international development or the campaign, and his actions showed me over and over again that he believed in me. The second was his persistent optimism and commitment to social justice. I recall that even after Bill C-486 was defeated that he stoically into the distance and quoted Bruce Cockburn saying that "you've got to  kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight" and that's what he did. After the 2015 election he continued to dedicate himself to social justice issues in Ottawa and abroad. 

Paul and I started to reconnect at community events after I came back from my second Congo trip in autumn 2017. As was always my experience, the first time we saw each other he immediately wanted to catch up and we did. 

When I learned about Paul's diagnosis I was one of the hundreds of people who sent him cards. My card may have stood out a little bit though because it confided that I too had, had brain surgery, as a child, and I wanted him to know that he could get through it. 

I wrote that card with some difficulty, since up until that point I rarely shared that information with anyone. 

I hadn't heard back from Paul when it became public that his cancer was terminal. I attended the launch of his legacy initiative Youth Action Now. When Paul saw me, he turned away from the group of people surrounding him and embraced me. "Thank you" he said over and over again. He told me that my card had arrived at a low point after his surgery, when he wasn't sure he would make it, and that my card had given him hope. 

In sharing this moment and gratitude with me, he gave me one final gift. The courage to share this part of my own story a little bit more openly, knowing that I could be loved and accepted anyway. 

There is something very powerful about believing in each other, and I know that, that is what Paul fostered in all of his relationships. It's hard to imagine where I would be today without the opportunities that working with Paul gave me. 

Goodbye Paul, thank you for everything. 

If you want to support Paul's legacy campaign, which promotes the leadership of youth (like me!) in social justice leadership you can donate here: http://youthactionnow.ca/donate/

Bang.

At 4:55 yesterday afternoon I stepped out of the Sobey's near my house in a bit of a rush. I had just picked up the remaining ingredients that I needed to make dinner and I was hurrying off to me a friend who I was nearly late to see. Since I start both of my new jobs next week I've been trying to catch up with friends who I might not see for a while since my schedule as a grad student has been more accommodating for their schedules as parents or commuters and that's all about to change.

When I stepped out of the grocery store I heard sirens and the familiar sound of a vehicle slowing down and then speeding up at intersections. I advanced along the side walk. When I got to the next intersection I decided to turn around to see how close the emergency vehicle was before I entered the intersection and I saw the police vehicle speeding its way up Metcalfe, other vehicles pulling out of its way. When I turned back around the light had changed, and I waited, uncharacteristically. I'm a habitual jaywalker but for some reason the combination of the red light and emergency vehicle gave me cause for pause. Then, just as the police vehicle was about to enter the intersection a cab pulled out from the side of the street, having dropped off a customer, and into the intersection. Bang. The vehicles collided, the police vehicle tearing the front clean of the cab, crossing two lanes of the road and eventually coming to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. 

And then, there was a moment of stunned silence and stillness.

I dropped my groceries and ran to the cab, arriving at the same time as two other witnesses. All of his air bags had deployed but he was conscious and mercifully had no passengers who would have been sitting on the side that had been hit. I left the other two witnesses and ran to the police vehicle. When I opened the door and asked if the officer was alright, the first words out of his mouth were "I hit my head". I tried to talk to him to keep him calm when he started inquiring about the other driver and who was going to direct traffic. After a couple of minutes he got out and moved towards the other vehicle, luckily just to see if the other driver was okay. In a state of shock he then tried to start directing traffic when his colleagues arrived, and was ushered into another vehicle. Both he and the other driver were taken to the hospital, the other main witness and I left standing on the sidewalk waiting to give police reports the gasoline spilling out of the cab onto the road stinging our eyes. 

It's troubling to think about the fact that if I had been 30 seconds earlier or if I had jaywalked that I probably would have been hit by the police vehicle when it jumped the curb, it's also pretty amazing that no one else was hit on the busy sidewalk in downtown Ottawa that was about to be full of office workers leaving for the day. I also think that this is a nice reminder that people often come together during emergencies. I didn't hesitate to run to the vehicles to try to help the drivers, and neither did the young Muslim woman standing with me. I'm not sure what either of us would have done had we not found conscious breathing people in the vehicles. While I was standing with the police officer, several other people also stopped to offer assistance including a nurse. 

So, keep your head up and be grateful for today. 

Adventures in the DRC: My Long-Lost Friend

"Alina!" I shouted excitedly across the room before I could stop myself. It was 7 a.m. on a Tuesday and I had been in Goma for four days. Our team was about to depart for Masisi and things were not going smoothly. 

After I arrived in Goma I went straight to bed totally nauseous. Waking up briefly to try to eat something and soon realizing that remaining in bed was by far the better option. 

The next day I met the team early to go over the research tools for our review of humanitarian assistance. We would be travelling as a group of four over the next six weeks through North Kivu, Ituri and South Kivu. The first team member I met was the "Local Member" who was Congolese and had significant experience working with international actors in the region. He was responsible for logistics and arranging local accommodations during our trip as well as conducting interviews like the rest of us. He met me the night before at the airport. The second team member was the "New Member" who was a young woman working with The Firm as an intern but who insisted on being paid for her work before departing for the DRC (and justifiably so). She was responsible for conducting interviews with women's and youth groups and civil society. The third team member was the "Experienced Member" who had worked in a management capacity for the UN in the Eastern DRC for more than 10 years. A fellow Canadian, he was responsible for conducting the protection interviews for our review. 

During our Sunday morning meeting the New and Experienced Members expressed concerns over both the logistics of the trip and the design of the review. As the methodological lead I was most concerned about the design of the review so I spent the day working on that, making sure that the language in the questionnaires was better suited to the context. The Experienced Member was quite insistent that we needed to spend more time in Goma and less time in the rural communities where we were expected to spend ten days. Everyone seemed to be on the verge of quitting. 

The next day I woke up and my neck was quite itchy. I asked the New Member to take a look at it, but she said she saw nothing. 

The team then met with our team of enumerators for North Kivu. While we were responsible for interviewing "key" stakeholders, they would conduct surveys with beneficiaries. I was responsible for delivering the training but was somewhat distracted by the fact that I had sent an e-mail to the Director and the Big Man saying that all of the team felt that we needed more days in Goma before moving to the rural communities and that if that wasn't possible, that we would all quit. 

After a day of security briefings, interviews and training enumerators, some of whom seemed to have never conducted an interview before, the Local Member's phone rang. It was the Director. 

After yelling at me through the receiver for more than 30 minutes about how we had to follow the firm's plan exactly during the trip with no changes to anything ever, and that we were to leave for Masisi the following day, I conceded that I was not the person who needed to be convinced and handed the phone to the Experienced Member. 

When I saw Alina across the breakfast room at the hotel the next morning all my bags were packed (and I was ready to go). I couldn't believe my eyes. Alina had been one of my close friends while I lived in Uganda, but I hadn't seen her since even though she lived just South of the border. in the 30 minutes that followed I learned that she was finishing here master's degree at Harvard (of course) and had just finished a work placement in Rwanda. After briefly updating her on my life, we drove away in two range rovers towards Masisi, carefully following security precautions because protests were scheduled in Goma that day. 

Next Blog Post: Saturday at Noon! 

Adventures in the Eastern DRC: A Prelude

It's the one year anniversary to my second arrival in the DRC! The trip and the time that followed have been busy but it seems like I might finally have the time and head space to write about it. Names will be changed to protect the identities of the characters in this little adventure, and of course this is more focused on my personal experience and views, not those of my employer(s). 

It's 7 a.m. on July 26th 2017, one week before I'm supposed to leave . I blearily stare into my phone as I've become accustomed to do. Ever since I agreed to work with the firm as a public health expert on this project, I've woken up to many "high importance" e-mails. This morning's e-mail is particularly shocking. The team lead had quit and they wanted me to replace him. 

"What?!" I think to myself. "This trip is never going to happen." 

I then send a series of urgent e-mails to my doctoral supervisor and mentor friend type person in Ottawa seeking advice. One says "run!" the other says "go for it!". 

So I decided to negotiate. I could take on the job if they gave me a raise and guaranteed that I would not need to work for more than 10 days after I came back from the field. They agreed and suggested that I take on the role of "methodological lead" rather than team lead. I reluctantly accepted and my flights were booked for the following week. 

In the interim I had another meeting with the third person who I had e-mailed. The Big Man had referred me to the position and was distressed to learn that it all seemed to be falling apart, so he stepped up and was declared the new team lead while I remained the methodological lead. 

In his negotiations he indicated that he could not be with the team for the duration of its trip in the Eastern DRC. Instead he was to be with us for the first five days and to return at the end of the mission to wrap things up. 

Although we were both travelling from Ottawa, the Big Man and I were booked on different flights. I was supposed to be on a long-haul flight from Toronto to Addis while he had somehow convinced the firm to fly him through London. However, when my flight to Toronto was cancelled on the day of my departure, I was re-routed through London with him. 

I had known the Big Man for quite some time in a semi-professional context and he seemed friendly and easy going, although I had my doubts. I was naturally displeased when during the first two legs of our trip all he could bring himself to talk about was his expectation that I work beyond the 60 hour weeks that I had committed to until the job was done and that if I didn't take a job with the UN that I would be wasting my life. 

We spent the day in London. When we returned to Heathrow he had some difficulty boarding our flight to Addis. He explained that he was told that he had not obtained the correct visa to fly into Goma, despite having a UN passport but convinced Ethiopian to let him board the flight. 

After a five-hour layover in the tired and dated African departures terminal in Addis our flight was boarding. I was ahead of the Big Man in line and was waved on to the tarmac. He was stopped by the flight attendant behind me and informed again that he did not have the requisite visa to enter the DRC, he told me to go ahead without him.

Three hours later I arrived in Goma, nauseous, exhausted, with a strangely itchy head and back in charge of the team. Well. Sort of. 

(Next scheduled post: tomorrow! 5 p.m. EST). 

Alcoholism, Sexaholism, Workaholism and Radical Kindness

About a month ago I was on the bus coming home from a friend's party when I decided to pull up facebook on my phone to pass the time. I wasn't ready for the first post that appeared on my feed. It was a eulogy from one of my Bukavu friends about our mutual friend Inge Kool. 

Inge was one of a small handful of long-term expats living in Bukavu. She worked as an Assistant Director with the Panzi Hospital which provides medical, psycho-social and legal support to victims of sexual and gender based violence, which has been one of the most noted components of ongoing violence in the DRC. She was a kind and compassionate person who always had time to help other people. I always enjoyed meeting her at Wendy's for weekly drinks during my fieldwork and I was excited to see her again when I visited Bukavu in September. 

Since her death I've been reflecting on a number of things that she said to me over the last two years. Most notably in a New Year's message last year after wishing me well she told me that she had been reading my blog. She said that she had been thinking about my comment that almost all of the expats that I met in Bukavu were "alcoholics, sexaholics, workaholics or some combination of the three" and that it encouraged her to re-examine her priorities and strive for more balance in her life. The funny thing was that I had always considered her to be one of the exceptions to that rule. 

Upon reflection, I've decided to amend my blanket statement about expats in Bukavu. While many humanitarians do struggle to find balance in their jobs and lives, trying to respond to demands from head offices, navigate persistent insecurity and respond to the needs of populations in crisis through the three outlets I described above, the other common factor which often defines them is kindness. For one must be radically kind to give up their comfort in order to support deeply traumatized populations and bare the risks of living amidst protracted crises. 

Perhaps we can all find ways to practice radical kindness in our own lives. 

Peace. 

A link to my original post: http://nonsequiturk.blogspot.ca/2016/07/all-of-things-i-havent-told-you-about.html

What I Learned About Public Health in the Eastern DRC

Dear Blog Followers,

I did not keep my promise to you and write timely posts about my trip to the DRC. Life got busy. I also decided to take a different approach in what I'm going to post, presenting what I learned during my trip. So today I'm starting with Public Health. Eventually I also hope to write to you about the DRC, my Doctoral Research AND myself. 

As a refresher I was in the DRC working on a review of humanitarian assistance between 2006 and 2016. If this post troubles you I invite you to consider donating to MSF (specifically to their hospital in Masisi) or to Heal Africa in Goma. 

http://www.msf.ca/en/donate-now

http://www.healafrica.org/donate_to

My initial role on the review team was as the Public Health Expert, although methodological lead was later added to the list of my responsibilities. I was invited to fill this role not because of my extensive education in Public Health but because of my general experience around public health policy including the social indicators of health and helping to run the health clinic at KW Reception House. Fortunately, the review didn’t require any knowledge of the biological and epidemiological components of public health because then we would have been in trouble.

As the Public Health Expert on the team it was my job to interview individuals engaged in public health work. This included local chief medical doctors, nurses, nutritionists, project coordinators for international NGO’s and sometimes their heads of missions. I also visited numerous health centres and hospitals, camps for internally displaced people and NGOs. It was extremely eye opening.

Over at least the last 15 years most of the health centres and hospitals have been run with the support of international health partners. They are often operated by local doctors and nurses but their programs and access to medicines are funded by international partners. As a result of this support, they have been able to offer free medical assistance and medications to the local population in part and in whole. However, recently because of donor fatigue and the redirection of funds to new crises such as South Sudan many international health organisations have reduced or completely cut their assistance to health sectors across Ituri, North and South Kivu where the local population is now being asked to pay for medical assistance. This worried many of the local health care practitioners who I spoke with who indicated that much of the local population could not afford to pay the nominal fees that they were now being charged by the health centres and hospitals. This is particularly concerning because the primary causes of death in the region (malaria, respiratory infections, cholera and TB) are highly contagious but treatable illnesses. Lack of access to treatment could easily lead to the spread and possibly epidemics of these diseases resulting in a significant increase in mortality, particularly among vulnerable people including children and IDPs.

I also observed the conditions at the medical centres and hospitals. There were two examples of best practices. The first was the hospital in Masisi which we visited at the beginning of the trip. The hospital is funded by MSF and has extensive wards for malnutrition, trauma, maternity and pediatric care, it also has a well stocked pharmacy. All treatment delivered at the Masisi hospital is free. Unfortunately, the week we visited the malnutrition ward in the hospital was over flowing because desperately needed food aid wasn’t reaching its recipients because of corruption in the supply chain. The other strong example was the Heal Africa hospital in Goma. Like, the Panzi hospital in South Kivu where I visited in 2016, the Heal Africa treats and supports victims of sexual and gender based violence. The hospital is extensive and offers both medical and social services to its patients.

These two hospitals were very much the exception to what I saw. The most troubling cases I visited were health centres in Ituri, both which had recently lost funding. When I asked for a tour of the first health centre near Komanda I was shocked to see that the birthing room consisted of an examination table with a hole cut into it and a basin underneath it to catch the baby. The room was so dark, damp and dirty, I couldn’t imagine how giving birth in such a place could reduce maternal or infant mortality (although it apparently does, at least according to the statistics on their wall). The second health centre I visited in Mangiva was in much better condition and seemed to have more services available. However, that health centre had been attacked and raided by militants three times in the past three years and during the last attack the head of the centre, a young father, was briefly taken hostage.

Mangiva Health Centre

I also learned quite a bit how different diseases and socio-economic conditions can interact with each other to exacerbate existing conditions and contribute to elevated mortality. For example, someone who is chronically malnourished is more likely to die as a result of a cholera infection. People living in under-supported long-term IDP camps, without proper sanitation structures such as the one in Kalite in the Masisi territory are very likely to be affected by both. Further, when people flee fighting and war in the Eastern DRC, they also spend days and weeks hiding in forests, or walking to seek safety, where they are at much higher risk of being exposed to Malaria. Sub-standard living conditions and nutrition can also increase susceptibility to respiratory infections, as can HIV infections which is spread by the scourge of sexual and gender-based violence.

I was also exposed the complexity of sexual and gender based health in the DRC. While I was there I spoke with a counsellor at a counselling centre for victims of sexual and gender based violence who didn’t know that she could use condoms to prevent unwanted pregnancies. I also met a priest who was prepared to distribute condoms to his parishioners in order to prevent malnutrition cases being caused by women conceiving too soon after giving birth (I gave him $20 to buy condoms). Finally I learned that, an well-known international health NGO has started offering free abortions to women who need them, despite the fact that abortions are illegal in the DRC.

When I was in the first year of my Ph.D. I read an article by Marriage (2013) which argued that international health NGOs should stop providing free health care in the DRC because they were duplicating state services and preventing the government from taking full responsibility for the sector. The Congolese government is not taking responsibility for the health sector (or most other sectors) and the local population cannot afford to pay the fees associated with medical treatment in the East. Another example of this was an HIV/AIDS advocate who shared with me that while the government provides free Anti-retroviral treatment for AIDS patients they don’t cover the cost of medication for opportunistic infections which could kill them and be spread to other parts of the population. Many people in the East with HIV/AIDS are too sick or stigmatized to work and so obviously can’t afford these medications.

To conclude, a full pull-out by international medical organisations would result in an overwhelming health crisis, which is already reflected in recent cholera outbreaks which have occurred across the East. More money needs to be directed back into the DRC to ensure that the most vulnerable people continue to have access to urgently needed medical care. 

Sad Goodbyes at the Goma Airport

I've cried in a lot of airports around the world. Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, Halifax, Amsterdam and especially Johannesburg, but nothing prepared me to be holding back tears at the Goma airport. If you had told me a week before I left that it was going to happen, I'm not sure that I would have believed you. 

I was in the DRC participating in a review of humanitarian assistance between 2006 and 2016. The review was undertaken at the request of a UN body and I was hired to work as a public health expert for the review. Methodological lead was later added as my second title later in the contract after the team leave left and I narrowly skirted becoming fully responsible for the project a week before we were set to arrive. Being the methodological lead often left me in the difficult role of the intermediary between the firm who wanted the project undertaken in a specific way, and the team on the ground who knew that it would never go exactly as planned. 

Interestingly, this is the exact intermediary role that I've documented among local civil society organisations and other actors who need to negotiate between the needs of the local population and the desires of international donors who want to address those specific needs. Let me tell you, this isn't an easy spot to be in. 

Yet, as I've been sharing stories with my friends and family since I've arrived back in Ottawa it has become clear to me that I realistically lived two stories during this trip. One where I was pushed to the brink, wondering whether I should stay or walk away from a poorly designed project with a lack of institutional support that was unlikely to yield robust academic results The second where I got to travel across a region that I've studied extensively working on an important, if ill-conceived project, making new friends and learning to disregard the hurt feelings and pangs of regret prompted by the first. 

In the end  I was holding back tears at the Goma airport because I was saying goodbye to even more friends than I arrived with. I was saying goodbye to a team who I fought with and for who, despite everything we had been through, genuinely cared for each other. I was also saying goodbye to new friends who I shared drinks, stories, runs and tears with in three provinces. Lastly, I was also saying goodbye to friends from Bukavu for a second time who I so relished having the opportunity to meet again. Indeed, there was something almost joyful about having something to cry about on my departure. 

So over the next few weeks I'm going to share four more blog posts: one about each of the three provinces I visited and a final post exploring some of the things I learned on this trip. These posts will be divided between the story of the firm and the story of what it actually meant for me to be there. 

Names will be changed to protect myself and the unwitting participants in these stories. 

Error: This is not the Protester That You're Looking For

On Saturday an estimated 1 to 4 million women marched globally for gender equality in the face of a new hegemonic world leader who has openly showed disdain for women in his statements. Yesterday one of Trump's first acts as president was to re-instate out-dated abortion laws which put women's lives at risk both in the U.S. and globally and that undermine women's agency and autonomy over their own bodies. This is no surprise coming from someone who is now synonymous with the phrase "grab her by the pussy". 

Staring in the face of uncertain political and economic exclusion, the organizers and participants of the women's march are now facing criticism from both sides of the political spectrum. Before the global marches were even over, articles proclaiming that if the women's marchers did define a clear agenda that it would falter in the same way that the occupy movement had https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/jan/19/womens-march-washington-occupy-protest. By Monday even Canada's (least) favorite female political pundit felt she needed to weigh in. Yes, Margaret Wente happily proclaimed, that there is no solidarity in the women's movement and that American women at least are as divided as ever. http://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/womens-solidarity-is-a-mirage/article33704854/ Margret Wente's positions are so predictable that it would probably be more cost-effective for the Globe and Mail to replace her with a robot. 

On the other side of the political spectrum I found many comments on social media outlets lamenting the heavy presence of white women at these protests, questioning whether these same women would be at the next Black Lives Matter protests and even questioning the audacity of women to participate in an event when gender and racial equality require daily resistance. 

I went to the women's march in Ottawa on Saturday and I was delighted to see my facebook feed full of pictures of other strong, empowered women who had done the same around the world. I don't feel that either of these critiques adequately capture the reality of the women who went to these marches and I'm going to tell you why. 

This was not my first women's march. I've also marched alongside women in the Democratic Republic of the Congo on International Women's Day fighting for gender equal businesses and public offices by 2030, and with women in Kasese in rural Western Uganda demanding an end to child marriage as part of a peace expo. I think it's also important to note that I've been to a Black Live's Matter protest and that I've eagerly participated in indigenous solidarity events. 

Marching is also not my only act of resistance. In 2007 I made a wish to keep Canada pro-choice in the face of another wish to end abortion in Canada as part of the Great Canadian Wishlist in which the CBC invited Canadians to make a wish for Canada's 140th Birthday and had people vote for their favorite wish. I've also published a policy review outlining gaps in Canada's gender policy in Fragile and Conflict Affected States. I've also had the opportunity to support the engagement of white women and women of colour through my work and to be honest, gender equality and women's rights are my primary focus, so I feel even more strongly for the women who organize within the movement who are facing harsh critique.

More importantly almost all of the women who I knew at the march have been involved in similar ways. Friends I saw included employees from the NDP with long protest histories, colleagues from local and international Non-Governmental Organizations, friends who I met at the Coady Institute's skills for social change program and University professors. These are not women who went home after the march to return to being passive housewives, these are women who already work for gender and racial equality everyday. 

In response to the need to have a "well-defined and set agenda" without which the march and the movement will become meaningless in the eyes of some analysts, I couldn't disagree more. Any third or fourth wave feminist should be able to tell you that gender discrimination and inequality impacts women differently across race, class, sexuality and (dis)ability lines. That's why at the march you saw a divergence of signs ranging from questions of sexual assault and access to re-productive rights to race and political freedom. In order to remain meaningful to a whopping 53% of the World's population the movement needs to capture a large spectrum of women's needs, including from different country contexts. It will be far more effective to have women continue to work on issues that are most urgent for them and to collaborate together to bring attention to those causes that are most important to them. This will also capture some of the concerns related to representation of Women of Colour within the movement.  

For those women who engaged for the first time this weekend, what a wonderful inclusive environment to march in for the first time. Now's the time to start thinking about how to continue to engage with equality in a way that interests and is sustainable for you. It is up to the more experienced and committed activists in the movement to introduce and entrench the importance of intersectionality and the participation of women of colour within the movement in order to present a representative and collaborative voice for women's issues in North America and around the World. 

2016 Part III: Gratitude for Getting By With A Little Help From My Friends

This is risky, publicly thanking people. I'm not going to use last names. I also don't want to exclude people so if you feel left out after reading this, message me and I'll fix it. 

During the turbulence of the last year I've had friends both new and old really make a difference and help me get through everything. I'm so thankful in general to have you in my life and for the things listed below.

I'm making an effort to going in chronological orders. 

Thank you:

Shannon and Lenny: For hosting me whenever I come to Halifax and particularly when I came last new years. You're so generous it's incredible. 

Alex Ke: For putting up with me as your room mate for more than two years and for being there for one on one hang outs and most of the group activities outlined below. 

Claire: For being my emergency contact person while I was away and for baring the responsibility for the sealed envelope. I'm always so very happy when we get to spend tme together. 

David and Lise: For proposing and letting me store most of my worldly possessions in your storage space while I was gone, and for accompanying me to the hospital when I cut my finger. I really enjoy the time we spend together still and in motion. 

The 12 people who helped me move things into David and Lise's storage area: Thanks again!

The people who came to my going away party and who wrote me letters to take on my trip: Thanks for the send-off and I promise I haven't forgotten to write you back!

Alex Ko: For being a stellar room mate and confidant in Bukavu. 

Karen D: For including me in ultimate Frisbee and sharing with me over tea. 

Sandra: For baking cakes with me and coming to visit me in Ottawa. 

Anja: For being my confidant, for offering me drives, sharing meals together and asking Reiner to listen to my cough. You'll always be my Bukavu Mom! 

Mom: For housing me in May, for coming to Ottawa during medical house arrest, for our trip to Kingston and for continuing to answer the phone despite my continued bad news. 

Karen C: For your life long friendship, for asking me to be your maid of honour and for keeping me company in Ottawa. 

Helena and JF: Thank you for letting me stay with you twice while I was re-establishing myself in Ottawa. It was a joy to spend time with you both watching Ms. Fisher and playing with your daughters. 

Brian S: For driving me and my things from Mississauga to Ottawa, helping me move, coming up for my Birthday and generally being wonderful!

Adam: For being part of the first moving group AND showing up to help me move into my new place after a hard day of work AND for hanging out with me while I was on in home isolation. I really appreciate that you put up with my teasing and hair ruffles. Your long term friendship has really meant a lot to me. 

Kyle: I'm pretty sure you're solely responsible for me not losing my mind this year. Thanks for your unwavering support and company. 

Jarz: For being there when I've needed you most and for bringing me the replacement flower pot and flower while I was on medical house arrest. 

Aunt Miriam: Thank you for helping me while I was on medical house arrest with meals, drives and groceries you greatly relieved my fears and were a wonderful source of support.

Nigel: For your phone calls and for our adventure in Rimouski!

Sara: Also for your phone calls and your visits to Ottawa. 

Everyone who visited me during medical house arrest: Thanks for taking the risk to come to see me. You ensured that I didn't lose my mind and remained properly fed. 

Mathilde: For being a great office mate and sharing in the struggle. 

Becca: For helping me pick up household furnishings, for letting me use your drill and for putting up with crabby summer Kirsten. 

Stephane: For being willing to eat ice cream with me when it counts.

Channing: For jumping head first into our friendship and reliably being there. 

My other friends in Guelph, KW, Toronto, Mississauga, Ottawa and Halifax who are ready to spend time together every time I arrive and who have taken the time to share encouraging words. 

 On the off and horrifying chance that they have found this blog I'd also like to express my gratitude to my current and my former supervisor. To my former supervisor for pushing me to write the best thesis possible and my new supervisor for being so supportive and sticking with me through this transition. 

Although most of them can't read in English I'm also so grateful to my research participants for sharing with me, learning with me and inspiring me.

2016 Part II: Silver Linings

Just because you had a really difficult year doesn't mean there were not any bright spots right? 

Here are some of the reasons that 2016 wasn't totally unbearable. 

In January of last year the night before I left on my trip I had a going away party in Ottawa and about 30 people came despite the fact that there was a snow storm which was pretty wonderful. On top of that about 20 people wrote me letters that I brought with me and read throughout my trip. Some of them were really funny, some contained beautiful art and others reminded me of close friendships. What a joy. 


There are some pretty amazing things to share about Bukavu too. Bukavu is naturally beautiful with trees, hills, flowers and a lake which is great when it's not exploding (which is like 99.999% of the time) (this isn't a joke, look up exploding lakes). The temperature was always perfect and I greatly enjoyed kayaking on Lake Kivu and playing ultimate frisbee over the weekends while most of you were suffering through a Canadian Winter. 



Being in Bukavu also let me develop friendships with some pretty special people. The first set of friendships were with other expats, with whom I was able to develop much closer bonds with in comparison to my other trips to the African continent. This led to baking parties, tea parties and chats and drinking at a bar called Wendy's which is literally a shack on the side of the road in the nice part of town (I really wish I had taken a picture of it). The second set of friendships was made with some incredibly brave Congolese colleagues who shared their city, work and lives with me who remain very close to my heart. 



During my research I also got to meet some amazing Congolese people who are risking their comfort and sometimes lives to promote human rights and peace. This is done through trainings, radio shows, workshops, direct livelihoods support and medical interventions and advocacy campaigns. I feel that the mere existence of these organisations and their staff in such difficult circumstances is reason enough on its own for both the Congolese and the World to believe that peace is possible. I'm really looking forward to being able to write about these amazing contributions in my thesis. 



I also occasionally got to help while I was in Bukavu. It brought me great pleasure to pay for medical treatment for a baby in my neighbourhood who had a hot iron fall on her face, and for choir uniforms for her older sisters. I also found some enjoyment out of teaching the staff at the organisations that I was working with some English and I learned that language instruction is hard. 



Beyond the DRC I also had some other great opportunities to travel. I spent the better part of a week in Kigali where I enjoyed restaurants, shopping, seeing the legislative buildings, vising the Genocide Memorial and more. It was also a great pleasure to return to Kampala and visit old friends, go salsa dancing, go swimming, eat cake and go to a comedy show while I was in the region. I also went to conferences in Halifax and Washington DC where my research received much positive feedback. In Halifax I enjoyed visiting friends and being by the Ocean and in Washington I visited the national mall, the Woodley Park Zoo and the craft Smithsonian. I even managed to fit in time for some conferencing and enjoyed learning about other people's work.... Oh and last but not least I also visited Quebec City and Rimouski where I took in natural and heritage sites and got to spend time with my friend Nigel! Such adventures!  



As for things on the professional side, although I don't think I'll be seeking a reference from my summer employer, my efforts in the position ultimately led to four women from conflict affected countries receiving visas to come to Canada and receive mentorship from the organisation. I also had an opportunity to meet these women whose program I helped to design which was super. 



Further, although finding a clear path to finishing my thesis was a struggle, I now have a very clear idea where to take my research once I finish my Ph.D. and I see continued opportunities to contribute to research on both peacebuilding and the DRC if I so choose. I'm also ultimately satisfied with the breakup with my thesis supervisor. Throughout the process I felt like my needs were prioritized, my relationship with my new supervisor is going really well AND I'm feeling much less stressed. 



Last but not least since I've come home I've also found great joy in spending time with my friends, in a way I don't remember experiencing before. It's a really nice feeling which I can't easily capture in text form. 

Come back tomorrow and find out just why I've been so grateful for these friendships. 

2016 Part I: The Stormy Weather Post

Over the holidays I've been trying hard to make sense of everything that's happened in 2016. Overall I would describe the year as a terrible disaster with some silver linings, which I got through with the help of my friends. So I'm going to write to you about this year in three parts: Stormy Weather; Silver Linings and; Gratitude for Getting By With a Little Help From My Friends. 

For this first post, please fasten your seat-belts and return your seat to the upright position, we are in for a bumpy ride. 

In January 2016 I was full of enthusiasm for what I thought would be the first of two hard-fought trips to the DRC. Throughout the month I packed my bags not only for a three month trip but also to leave the beautiful apartment I had been sharing with one of my best friends who was going to be moving in with her boyfriend while I was gone. By the end of the month I had said goodbye to my family and friends and was facing a whole lot of change at once. 

At the beginning of February I traveled to Bukavu by plane with a colleague with whom I shared some romantic type feelings. The first week in Bukavu was hectic with him being shuttled around by his organisation which was also one of the three organisations I would work with, trying to set up in my new apartment and establishing contact with other peacebuilding organisations. Although nothing notable happened during his presence for the week of my trip his departure hit me really hard. So hard that I spent an entire day crying in bed after he left. I was alone and feeling very exposed in a rural, extremely poor fragile context and wasn't sure where to start. After two weeks he stopped returning my emails without explanation and no, he didn't know about the crying. 

Personally the trip was very hard. Not having drivers, cooks or security assistance, and working directly with local organisations left me very exposed to daily and more acute stresses. During my trip I watched a woman being beaten with no one to call for help, became very ill with a respiratory infection, was abandoned in a small town without a vehicle or cell phone reception in an area with an active rebel movement and was followed home by an individual who aggressively pressed me for money. On top of this our house cat who brought me some comfort disappeared at the beginning of April leading both to sadness and to an influx of rats in our kitchen. We suspect the cat was trapped and eaten.

In the end all of this was manageable. I took things one day at a time and got over it (except for the cat). Instead the things that I've found difficult to cope with were totally unexpected. 

I, perhaps naively, went to the DRC hoping to come back telling a different story. Not one about how poor, suffering and traumatized the population was, but one of hope which highlighted the commitment of local individuals and communities to bringing peace to their country. While I think I did find the hope I was looking for, which I'll talk about in my silver linings post, this hope was ultimately overshadowed for me by the tragedy that I wintessed in the daily lives of my research participants and the other people around me. Almost all of the staff from the organisations I worked with had experienced loss as a result of the conflict, had witnessed extreme violence and/or had been forcibly displaced for a significant period of time. Despite having some of the more secure jobs available in the province they struggled to feed, clothe, house and educate their families. A lot of them faced violence and threats as part of their job. Yet, the absolute worst part of this was how scared they all were that the country was teetering on the edge of violence and poverty that they had no control over which arrived officially on their doorsteps in the later part of this year. It was even harder to accept. Let me be clear, there is no easy way out for the DRC. At some point the international community will need to step away and let the state actually govern its territory, but doing so will risk organised violence which could worsen what can only already be described as a humanitarian disaster, before the state finds its authority and ability to govern. 

I came back to Canada in May still planning to return to the DRC but I was sick, very stressed and completely exhausted. I did what I needed to in May. Found a new apartment, fulfilled maid of honour duties and sought treatment for my cough. 

By June I was feeling optimistic again. I moved, found a wonderful summer job and started dating the colleague mentioned above. My cough was even under control and I got to go to Halifax for a conference. However, it quickly became clear that the job was more stress than I could handle and the relationship ended quickly. By early August my cough was back and you've already read my post about medical house arrest. In mid-August a man who had continually harassed me by phone and email while I was in the DRC was trying to contact me on my Canadian number and via Facebook.By September tensions were rising in the DRC around the elections scheduled for November which were ultimately postponed leading to protests and violence.

It was time to face the reality that things were not working out as planned with my thesis. 

In early September I discussed the possibility of choosing a new context for a second case study for my thesis with my supervisors, we initially selected Colombia. At the same time I was transcribing my interviews from South Kivu and began to realize how much data I had already collected 55 interviews, 35,000 words of field notes. It became clear that if I duplicated my research in another context that I was going to have so much data that it was going to be unmanageable and that I would struggled to finish my Ph.D. 

I decided to pull the plug on the second case study in early October after a discussion with my co-supervisor led to a suggestion that I select another case. I frantically tried to develop a new plan and did which I presented to my supervisors. They wrote back with five points, four of which were reasonable questions the fifth which implored me to go back to the DRC for the sake of my academic reputation. 

Again, I put my foot down. I wouldn't be able to go on to be a professor if I were too traumatized to go on working or worse if I was dead anyways. This led to an altercation with my primary supervisor with whom I had, had a difficult relationship from the beginning which ended with her resignation from my committee. Although I feel that it was handled very poorly ultimately I know that this was the best decision for both of us. I too had been trying to decide how to walk away from her supervision for several months. 

As far as supervisory breakups go this one wasn't so bad. My co-supervisor agreed to continue as my primary supervisor and things have been going much more smoothly ever since. Late November and December have gone more smoothly with some annoying blips around the holidays related to gift giving and yet another relationship gone awry. Overall things seem to be moving in a more positive 2017, but if I learned anything from this year it was to not take anything for granted. 

Check back tomorrow afternoon for my Silver Linings Post. 

Sick Until Proven Well? My Journey under Medical House Arrest

In March 2016 while I was in the DRC I developed one of the worst coughs I ever remember having. I would start to cough and finish twenty minutes later. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't work, it was so bad that one of my research participants took my hand and prayed for me. Now my German doctor friend had a somewhat different take on the situation. After listening to my lungs he thought that my cough might just go away after two weeks. 

Although my cough got better it never really left. When I would start to cough usually at night or while running, my chest would tighten and I would feel like I was choking. I thought I'd just wait it out and see if it got better when I got home.

Fast forward about a month. I'm staying at home with my mom in Mississauga and I come home from a run wheezing so badly that I'm shaking and have to actively work on breathing for about thirty minutes before I get back to normal. I'm finally convinced it's time to go to the doctor. A little concerned that it might be tuberculosis but pretty sure it's not. 

The doctor is also a little concerned it might be TB. He sends me for a chest x-ray and orders some other tests. The x-ray is clear but the other test showed that I had an antibiotic resistant infection. We identify an antibiotic that will work. I move back to Ottawa about a week later. 

The cough and wheeze slowly dwindle over the course of three weeks until I'm feeling pretty alright, but then it suddenly starts again. After two long bike rides and a children's Birthday party I'm coughing so hard that I throw up. Time to head back to my Ottawa doctor's office. The doctor at the walk in clinic listens to the history and is pretty sure we should check for TB again and orders two skin tests and four sputum samples. After two weeks I return to the doctor because I'm still coughing and haven't heard about any of the results. All but one of the TB tests have come back negative and I'm given the same antibiotic that I was on before. 

So I went back to work. At around 4 p.m. I got a phone call from the doctor's office. The voice on the other end of the phone says that the test shows that I have a micro-organism in my lungs, probably TB, and that I have to go home immediately and not talk to anyone or go to any public places. My nightmare gets worse when I get a phone call from a public health nurse telling me that this "In-Home Isolation" is going to continue for weeks during which I'm not supposed to have contact with anyone or go into any public places where I might expose someone who is immune compromised to TB. 

They arrange for me to meet an infectious disease specialist at the Ottawa Hospital the next day. My aunt, a former TB nurse agrees to drive me and help with groceries. The doctor who meets us explains that because of my travel history and the duration of the cough we are going to treat my cough with TB medication while we wait for more test results and that I need to be isolated from other people. We do another chest x-ray and my aunt takes me home. Later someone else from Public Health comes and drops off hundreds of pills. The following day a public health nurse starts coming daily to watch me take 14 pills per day.

So for 12 days everyday consists of taking 14 pills per day, supervised, which destroy my stomach and zap my energy. I convince the public health nurse that I should be allowed to see other people and she reluctantly agrees to letting me see people in an open-air environment. In no circumstance am I to go inside a building with another living being. My aunt continued to help me until she developed a  blood clot in her leg and had to have two rounds of emergency surgery in 24 hours (she's on the mend now). At this point I'm calling my mother begging her to come and help me with my laundry and to help me get to my next appointment at the hospital. 

I have to say that being on in-home isolation was really hard for me as an outgoing, active, extrovert. I felt very restricted in my home and I didn't seem to be able to get enough social interactions even with daily outdoor visits and frequent phone calls. I also experienced a lot of anxiety of how my illness was going to impact my very demanding Ph.D. program. It was also hard to slow down from my normally very fast paced lifestyle. 

By day 12 my cough is gone but I'm exhausted and my stomach hurts all the time from the medication. At the hospital after a nurse completes my intake a doctor comes in with no mask on and announces "good news! you don't have TB and you don't have to wear a mask or take medication any more!" I don't think I could ever imagine being so furious and elated at the same time. On top of everything there is no explanation for why my cough went away with the medication (the doctor's guess was that the medication relieved existing inflammation in my lungs) or why I was allowed to continue taking this very strong medication for up to five days after the test results came back. There was also no explanation of how they mistook some other micro-organism for TB, all the report said was that it was something "naturally occurring in nature". 

The good news is my cough never came back, although I guess we'll never know what was causing it. The bad news is that the medication seems to have had a lasting impact on my digestive system. I've discovered that this can be mitigated by not consuming greasy foods or alcohol, however I'm going to be a bit disappointed if I can never enjoy a burger and fries again. 

What did we learn from this? 1,600 new cases of TB are diagnosed in Canada each year and a smaller proportion than you'd think are among new immigrants and refugees. If you're diagnosed with active TB you can be placed on in-home isolation and not be allowed to do much of anything. If you violate this condition and you're found to be a public health threat you can be hospitalized. Public health is supposed to help you complete the tasks needed to live like laundry and groceries and because their funding is often on the chopping block so that's easier said then done. (Subtext pay your taxes)

Personally I'm really glad that I didn't have TB. Another friend who spends time in the Congo did have TB and it's a long recovery. So long in fact, that if I had, had active TB that I would still be on medication, I might not have been allowed to go home for Thanksgiving, to Washington for my upcoming conference etc. I am a little disappointed by the way the situation was handled by the hospital and public health, at times it seemed like I, as an individual, wasn't being considered very much at all. This, among other things has also led to significant doubts about whether I want to continue with this line of research. I'm not sure that the health and safety risks are worth the reward (which these days seems to be living below the poverty line and fighting a lot with my thesis supervisors!).