You can find my drivel at: http://www.getinvolved.ca/2011/08/a-long-way-from-home/

Or read it here…

In March 2009, I was dropped off outside a busy casualty department of a developing-world hospital at two a.m. on a Saturday morning and was met with all the kinds of sights, sounds and smells you might imagine.

I’d quit my job and travelled thousands of miles to come here and do a voluntary job in international development.

Here was the small town of Opuwo, capital of the Kunene Region of the Republic of Namibia and home of the Himba tribe – one of the world’s most visually unique and oft-photographed tribes.

The job was to be an IT Specialist for the Ministry of Health and Social Services, a role with a two-paragraph explanation encompassing just about everything.

Everyone’s motivation for volunteering is different but honestly for me it was mainly selfish with a degree of altruism mixed in there somewhere. I wanted to travel, have new experiences, challenge myself and hopefully do something worthwhile along the way.

I spent quite a while “shopping around” the different opportunities for volunteer work abroad – everything from the “pay yourself” projects, to the build an elephant reserve or orphanage sites. In the end, I settled on applying to Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO).

VSO (CUSO-VSO in Canada) are a large charity that specialise in sending skilled professionals overseas anywhere from three months to two years in a variety of roles in many different countries.

In September 2009 I attended an assessment day in London and by some miracle was selected as a potential volunteer. Six months later I was standing at the casualty department wondering what the hell I was doing here and thinking I may have made the biggest mistake of my life.

But by the next morning it had become apparent I hadn’t made a mistake as I explored the dusty little town I now called home. Walking the streets was like being inside a National Geographic photo shoot: the sun was beaming down and the bustle on the pavements was interrupted only by the occasional wandering goat or donkey.

Working overseas is far different from travelling or touring. The level of exposure to different cultures and experiences are far beyond anything I could have experienced as a tourist. Working alongside the people gives you the opportunity to get to know them well, struggle through the same challenges, drink with them in the shebeens, celebrate their birthdays and weddings.

Professionally it’s been an eye-opener. Gone are the days of forming teams of various skilled individuals to solve a difficult technical problem. Now it’s just me with a paperclip, glue and some luck. If network cabling needs installed then I’m off in a heavily-loaded bakkie with a drill, cable and the willingness to get very dirty crawling through ceilings (or rather convincing colleagues to do the crawling).

And personally, it’s confirmed what I think I always knew (or hoped); people are people the world over and generally good. The less well off people are often the more generous they are and nearly everyone is keen for opportunities to better themselves or better their work.

I’ve been lucky enough to work and live alongside some really dedicated professionals. Opuwo may seem like an idyllic placement to me coming from the UK, but for many of my Namibian colleagues it is seen rightly as a difficult place to live and work. The sparsely populated vastness of the area and the rugged terrain give delivery of healthcare some very unique challenges.

One of VSO’s mottos for their volunteers is that they must be adaptable. Last week for instance, I was doing a network installation for one of our hospitals, this week I’m out driving around with a team doing polio immunisations and next week I’m giving a presentation to a group of Parliamentarians on ICT development in the Kunene Region.

Of course it’s not all been plain sailing. There have been nights in the summer where I think my brain is about to melt and run out of my ears, local and not-so-friendly bacteria take time to get used to (if you ever can) and getting stuck in sand in the middle of the Namib desert with only a few leaky water bottles on hand and not seening another car for 24 hours was worrisome to say the least.

But despite all that, I can confidently say that this decision has been the best of my life.

If I had one piece of advice to give to aspiring international volunteers it is this: you can’t expect the unexpected – so try and expect nothing, keep an open mind and see what happens.

The results, unpredictable as they are, may well astound you. They will certainly surprise you.

Anyway if you’re Canadian or whatever and fancy volunteering you should check them out.

Please Note…

I’m traveling at the moment (right now in Dar es Salaam) so blogging and email replying may be slower than ever.

Some posts are safely on a hard disc supposedly in a bag flying to Europe (if all went well). Others are just in my head.

Oh well, I suppose I’ll just have to make the most of the few short weeks I will have with her before I head back to the world.

I apologise for the gushy nature of all this but I’m head-over-sheels and want to shout it to the entire world.

I’m not going to lie; there are a few haters out there and people who have no qualms in telling me they think our relationship is wrong. But seriously they can all get stuffed – I’ve never been happier and spend my time now grinning and wanting to break into song.

So a few details. My new beau’s name is Susan and she is sexy, smart, funny and generally wonderful.

She’s an HP 1810G-24 Ethernet Switch with 24 multiple-personality 10/100/1000 ports and two of the HP GBIC expansion ports.

Quite simply with a web interface, SNMP, auto-everything and a flashing blue locate LED you can turn on and off she is wonderful.

I really fell in love though the first time I turned her on. The startup sequence of LEDs lighting up, flashing and turning off all in a row was too much to bear.

Now I’ve known some slutty switches through the years, and there is always a time and a place for slutty switches, but Susan is refined and classy – not like some Cisco Catalyst switch all telnet interfaces and logos.

I’ll have to leave her behind but parting will be such sweet sorrow…

And is it wrong for a man to love an Ethernet switch? I mean love. Spiritually, emotionally and physically. Especially physically. Oh yeah. But, really, is that a good idea for the copper contacts? And do I care?

He was right.

Bombing round Opuwo today delivering letters (we can’t go any further because of the fuel card situation) with the windows down (yet another blue-skied perfect day).

NBC decided as it often does to stop playing music and go to some interminable speech by someone or other about key stakeholder involvement so I popped the MP3 in and bumped up the volume.

White noise. Next.

Sounds like modems making love. Next.

“**** my ******* ******* in the ***** and I’m gonna ****** you too ********” blurting out. Nice.

Not my weirdest musical experience here though. Not long in-country I tagged along with some colleagues on a tour of the other districts.

Otjiherero rap was the order of the day and I – foolishly – asked the driver what was being said.

It turned out to be a list of things the singer was planning to do with his other half when he got home and then even more explicitly the things he demanded she did to him.

Yes.

But the weird bit was the music selection was hardcore Otjiherero rap interspersed with Dolly Parton (which everyone sang along to, except me of course as I’m way too Gangsta for that).

My trip has been approved at all necessary levels and so on sunday I should be off to Windhoek then back to Outjo to install cables then home.

What I’ve just been told though is that owing to some accounting SNAFU – we haven’t paid our fuel card bill – none of our fuel cards are now working.

Apparently with our remaining resources we need to do stuff like pickup staff already away and transport emergency patients. Pah, priorities huh. Seems facebook for the masses isn’t as important.

The Sister

On having fixed a computer problem for someone.

Him: “Thank you so much. I must get you something. You can have my sister to marry”

Me: “Oh well, thanks but you shouldn’t really give away your sister like that… But, have you got a picture?”

Him: “No pictures. It is rude to refuse a gift!”

The Bed

Went to someones house to visit and was in his room.

Him: “Come, come, sit on my bed. You are a single man after all”

Me (sitting down): “What if I was married?”

(Some consultation between him and another friend in the room)

Him: “You’d have to sit on the floor”

Typos in Meeting

In a long meeting about babies and suchlike I spotted the following two typos:

1. When talking about resuscitation for newborns an objective was; “encourage resuscitation with bag and musk”

Pretty powerful musk.

2. On a form for recording ante-natal checkup information: “Fatal Heartrate”

Hint: Nearly always 0.

A few weeks back I made a change which only allows web access through a box called a ‘proxy’ which records it. This helps to speed up network access and also allows easier identification of which PCs might be virus infected and making lots of dodgy internet requests.

It’s all part of my mad attempts to get everything cleaned up for when I leave.

The proxy logs are pretty ‘high level’ in that they would record say a visit to gMail but not who was emailed or in any way the content of the pages. A similar proxy runs for our Government Network controlled by the Office of the Prime Minister and possibly even logging to a greater level.

Having been pretty darn busy for the last few days I haven’t had a chance to see if any specific computer is slowing the network down. Today I was in a feedback meeting with a WiFi connected laptop so had a quick browse while TB treatment protocols and other things not concerning me were being discussed.

First I accessed our network tools and the reporting options for our proxy (note in these images stuff is redacted to protect the guilty and also our network details):

Then it was onto the proxy reports (SARG) for today:

So then our top user for the day has downloaded over 1Gb (quite a bit) and been responsible for 81% of all internet bandwidth.

I wonder if it’s perhaps a combination of Windows and anti-virus updates? A rogue virus? New health information from the WHO in massive download format?

Clicking through:

Um, no, it appears to be technicolour grumble flicks.

A closeup of the top 4 URLs if you can’t be bothered to click or can’t see them:

Erm, well, yes. Bit awkward.

I have never put any filtering in place here (apart from the 30 minutes when I accidentally blocked Facebook testing the proxy – met with much hostility). Everyone is professional staff and I’ve never been asked or told to limit anything.

Only looking for a possible virus I find this. And this is a probable cause of slow internet access.

What to do? Name and shame? Block that site (and/or any other gentlemen’s entertainment sites)? Nothing? Redirect traffic to lolcats? Mention quietly in conversation with X that the internet is slow and I think pr0n is to blame and am investigating the ‘source’? Demand a copy?

I’ll ponder it over the weekend.

To explain this I’ll try and be not overly tecchie and then put the tecchie bit in italic underneath for anyone who cares.

Faulty Switch

The switch is the thing that connects all our computers together and onto the internet.

Yesterday I needed to turn it off and back on. Turned off ok but wouldn’t come back on; either the power light flickered a bit or just didn’t light up.

We have a gigabit switch at the core of our direct-internet network (not the GRN WAN one). The server on that network which does routing and DHCP locked up and needed power-cycled.

Normally after its back up I’ll drop the switch for a few seconds causing Windows to see ‘disconnected’ and then ‘reconnected’ and so ask for an IP address (rather then keeping the auto-assigned one while DHCP was down for a random period of time).

Business Continuity

As I stood thinking “well that’s not good” more people kept coming to the office asking about the internet. Facebook – and occasionally some health sites – being critical.

The original fault had lost us internet for 5 minutes or so and now they were getting messages telling them I’d unplugged cables (as the switch was off).

Realising this wasn’t going to be simple to sort out I scrabled around and raided my office for my desk switch and numerous cables and adapters.

Within 45 minutes of the original failure I had most of the offices connected using various means (and being lucky in that a few of the offices are vacant right now).

Facebook access was saved.

Using an 8-port 100mbps switch normally on my desk, the spare LAN ports on a wireless router we use just as an access point and just the right number of long cables I had spare (long enough to reach the router) I managed to restore connectivity for 9 locations (one of which was our secondary wifi access point serving 4 PCs and many laptops).

Investigations

Using various highly advanced techniques (a box with probes that tells me what’s happening) I found the power was coming into the switch.

Opening it up and probing different bits narrowed the issue down to being the PSU/power board; this is the bit that takes the mains voltage and converts it down to a lower voltage suitable for small electrical use.

To be certain this was the faulty component I bypassed it and connected another power supply directly to the switch.

The power board was giving 12VDC out but when connected to the main switch board the output at the connection terminals dropped to 4.5VDC.

Hoping that the power side was faulty and not the switch board I used a variable supply and a fan connector (to plug into the port) to see if it would power up – it did!

Replacement Power Supply

With the faulty board identified it was just a matter of removing it and finding something else to provide the 12V to the switch.

Unfortunately the variable supply used for testing was nowhere near powerful enough to actually power the switch in operation.

A power supply unit for a computer though did provide 12V and would be. It’s possible to trick one of these into thinking the computer is on and so then use its power for the switch.

Normally you would use a paperclip to ‘trick it’ but after testing it with the paperclip I went one better and decided to put an on/off switch in as well.

The all had the added bonus of clipping lots of wires making me feel like a bomb disposal expert.

I decided to use the 12VDC output from an ATX PSU as the variable supply was rated 500mA and the original internal supply rated to 3A (the ATX supply I used was ok to 14.5A).

Rather than just bridging the ATX connector to short-start I cut a switch off an old AT supply and connected that to some pronged connector I had from an old variable supply which perfectly fitted the pins.

Then it was just a matter of taking the 12V feed from one of the molex connectors to my fan-connector already connected to the DC input on the switch board.

Faulty original PSU/transformer-rectifier whatsit

Better than a paperclip - connection to short the ATX supply into working when switch closed

On/off switch mounted on new external PSU

The Frankenswitch Lives

Closing the on/off switch amazingly now led to the PSU spinning up and the switch itself turning on in a flurry of self-test lights.

I’d disconnected an internal fan that was sticky and may be the cause of the problem so I’ve sat the whole thing on top of some big fans blowing air through it. Though this probably would make a fire worse not better. My on/off switch design through should burn through (and shut off) quicker than a paperclip though.

I’ve started moving people back onto this switch and so far no fires or failures.

Rather boringly though I’m going to get a replacement one as an emergency order instead of leaving the Frankenswitch as my legacy in Opuwo.

All plugged in and sitting on top of rack fans for cooling and extra oxygen for inevitable fire (backup switch seen in the background)

Switch actually working with the first test group of people back on it

Recently there have been some tribal tensions in the Kunene Region between the Herero and Damara.

This started off at a school near Sesfontein (and a Peace Corps volunteer was pulled out) and spread to Opuwo when a group of Hereros protested outside the Regional Council offices about what they see as a disproportionate number of Damara people employed there.

All this has been very peaceful but as a result the Regional Council offices were closed for two days and a police car sat outside.

One of my fellow Opuwo VSO vols, a Dutch lady we’ll call her M, works at the Regional Council but was down in Windhoek when the protest and closure occurred getting her work visa renewed.

On the Friday while waiting for something or other to boot up or finish installing I sent her and E (another Dutch VSO vol but who works at the hospital) the following text:

“Group of people standing outside the Regional Council holding signs saying ‘unite against the real enemy the Dutch’. Wonder who put them up to that?”

M promptly replied with “Are you joking?”.

There are many responses I should have sent back, ideally just a simple “Yes” and maybe a reassurance all was actually calm.

But no, thinking I was being funny, I instead sent the following:

“They’re now chanting ‘death to the dike building cyclists’ not sure what that’s about”.

Ha ha ha? No.

A very short time later my phone went and it was the VSO Programme Manager for HIV/AIDS (another Dutch lady who happens to be my and M’s programme manager).

She was asking my advice on the anti-Dutch situation she had just been informed about and if it was safe for M to come back to Opuwo at all.

A quick calculation in my head came to the conclusion the N$58 in my bank account wouldn’t be enough to buy fatcakes and cool drinks to actually entice a crowd into an anti-Dutch protest leaving only the options of coming clean or fleeing to Angola. I came clean.

After finishing grovelling to the PM who admitted she had been confused as to why there would be this sudden anti-Netherlands feeling in Opuwo I called M and began to explain, grovel, apologise, beg forgiveness and promise to never do it again all at the same time.

The names I was called in a mixture of English, Dutch and I think Mandarin would make a Polish sailor blush but were of course entirely justified. 100%.

I then spent a nervous couple of days waiting to see M in Opuwo and my inevitable slow and painful fully-vindicated death at her hands.

Luckily – and entirely undeservedly – she didn’t kill me and instead forgave me. This was unexpected and I’d made my peace with no fewer than 19 different gods.

On the record then: a thousand apologies to M and a million thanks for her generous nature.

She did then go on to lose my left boot in a shebeen the following weekend which I later found hanging on the hospital gate but that is another story. I don’t think it was revenge, not consciously anyway.

So no more jokes or japery from me from now until the end of days.

Which reminds me actually, have you heard this one?

“Two Himbas walk into a bar…”

Unfortunately the vehicle I was given was our Toyota Quantum minibus (combi in Namlish). Though roomy and great for actual immunisations it is the least practical vehicle ever invented for going anywhere other than perfect tarmac.

Of course this being Opuwo there only is one tarmac road so we spent a lot of time bumping, bashing and bouncing through/over uneven terrain.

Once at a location the Immunobus was great – we could have the vaccine chest easily accessible and use it as a table, keep the engine running for AC (it’s pretty quiet) and snooze in the fully-reclinable seats.

Thanks to the ultra-low bullbars, positioning of wheels, two wheel drive and long body getting there though was an exercise in feeling our way over stuff, gouging holes and getting beached twice (though as luck would have it we got off both times).

As a mobile team our job was quite literally to drive around looking for children and then enticing them to our van. Any other time, place or reason and we would have been arrested.

We had success though so here are some pictures from our efforts to make lots of children cry:

Child is Upset After Immunisation

Two Mothers and a Baby Watch Immunisations

A mother and her child wait for immunisations

After immunisation children are marked with ink on their right thumb

Himba Baby is immunised while a Herero mother looks on

Dusty children come for immunisation

Dusty child receives Vitamin A booster

A child watches immunisations near Opuwo

People queue at the Immunobus

Baby being immunised from the Immunobus

Baby receives polio drops

S is for Serra Cafema, destination of a truly amazing adventure through mountain passes, crossing sun-scorched expanses of desert and navigating by dead reckoning and luck.

S could also be for sunsets – they are really rather spiffing here, especially in the dry season (9 months of the year) when the dust kicked up during the day means the whole sky turns purple and pink as the sun goes down.

T is for Travelling, something I’ve thankfully got to do quite a bit of – for work, for VSO or just for fun.

U is for Unbelievable, which is what it is anyone would offer me (me!) the chance to come here and get paid (me!!) for messing around with computers. It’s also half the stuff that happens (nobody will believe you about the bizarre stuff that happens in the Nam).

V is for VSO, the organisation that kindly decided to send me, despite my obvious shortcomings (as some sort of charitable act in itself I suppose or just to save the UK), to Namibia for a couple of years. The VSO staff in-country are great, tolerate me amazingly and even laugh at some of my jokes (another post on VSO Namibia staff later I feel).

V could also be for Victoria Falls, not really in Namibia but close enough you know, pretty impressive. Also V could be for Vastness. The country is vast, everything is vast; the landscapes, the sky, the temperature difference, the change from dry to wet season and back again to name but a select few.

W is for Winter, which though you wouldn’t expect it is bloody brass monkeys especially this year. Freezing my nads off in sub-Saharan Africa between the tropics! Ridiculous.

X is for X-Ray, the film used to fashion an anti-scratching collar for Mr Cat after half his head fell off (really). As you can imagine Mr Cat was anything but impressed with all these goings on but my scratch wounds have now almost healed.

Y is for Yanks, they’re bloody everywhere between the Peace Corps and numerous evangelical/missionary sorts. Neither group have managed to save my soul but I’m still holding out hope even if they’ve given up (quitters!).

Z is for Zebra, it’s like a horse but stripy. Oh and has a stripy mohican which is in the same black/white pattern as its body. Nice. They’re also, well, hung like Zebras which is pretty darn impressive and a source of much astonishment until an elephant whapped his out in the background. Made my eyes water for poor (or lucky?) Mrs Elephant. Also fun to tell the Yanks the correct pronunciation according to English. Proper English that is.

I am away. Or maybe just asleep. Either way not actually posting this now now. This p**s poor effort was pre-written and scheduled for publication during the NID period. Look at me all Raymond Chen but without the skills, followers, ability or human decency.

J is for Journey, a word used in the sick-inducing phrase “The Volunteer Journey”. A little bit of me just died within.

J could also be for John, a PCV IT vol who espouses only the best values of the Peace Corps and the USA. And also looses to me at poker. And Battlefield 1942. But an all round good egg with an interesting take on facial hair, hygiene and mattress sanitation.

K is for Kunene, the mighty, vast and diverse region which I roam over breaking computers hither, fither and yonder. We’ve got rivers, desert, trees, grass, animals, desolation and everything inbetween.

L is for Lion, the animal I failed to see for a long time here (over a year). Other new volunteers would turn up, go to Etosha two weeks in and see lions juggling their cubs whilst chasing a kudu down at the same time. Thankfully my luck changed eventually and I saw me some lions.

M is for Mountains, especially the ones I keep having to drive over or thread my way through on various Ministry of Health missions to far-flung corners. Pretty though, especially the Zebra ones in the north.

M could also be for Ministry of Health and Social Services, my erstwhile employer and curer of the sick.

N is for Namib, the huge desert stretching all the way up Namibia with all it’s different textures, landscapes and seasons. It is a ‘proper’ desert in that it’s how you’d imagine it (in fact a lot of filming is done in the Namib because it’s more like people imagine the Sahara than the Sahara actually is). Certainly it’s a damn sight more ‘proper deserty’ than the Kalahari.

O is for Opuwo, the dusty little frontier town I call home. It’s a funny funny little place but with a chaotic and dirty charm all of its own. Oh, Opuwo!

P is for Penny, sage guide in the ways of the Nam, quality shebeening compadre, good friend and jolly good fun.

P could also be for Peace Corps, the sworn enemies strategic partners and drinking buddies of VSOs.

Q is for Quartz, pretty much all we found on the supposedly diamond and agate encrusted beaches of Luderitz.

R is for Rhino, who have visited the waterhole at night each time I’ve been at Etosha. Yet to make a daytime appearance for me though. Impressive beasts.

I am away. Or maybe just asleep. Either way not actually posting this now now. This p**s poor effort was pre-written and scheduled for publication during the NID period. Look at me all Raymond Chen but without the skills, followers, ability or human decency.

So here is the first of three thrilling instalments of A-Z of My Nam:

A is for Amalia, my amazing boss at the MoHSS and a good friend who has helped me endlessly, taught me loads about Namibia and the GRN and stopped me from making an utter fool of myself more times.

A could also be for: Anika or *A*W*E*S*O*M*E* (Peace Corps mantra)

B is for BOLLOCKS, the word I have probably used most often as I’ve messed up or electrocuted myself and luckily unknown by most people here as a swear word.

C is for Condor, my mighty steed which took me safely around the highways and byways of Namibia, Botswana and Zambia only eating one gearbox and catching fire only a single time.

D is for Dangerous, a favourite word and description of most situations/people/events by the Opuwo PMO and also my description of a large number of activities I’ve undertaken in Nam.

D could also be for Diane or Daniel (two other Opuwo Brits) or the Dutch (as in “run for the hills, the Dutch are coming”)

E is for Elephant, my favourite animal here and (so far) nearest cause of animal-related demise.

E could also be for Erwin my Dutch neighbour, all round good sport and first VSO to join me in Opuwo after a year on my own. He was only slightly put out by my traditional attire of a Himba lady.

F is for “F**k It!” my personal VSO mantra used in different circumstances and with different emphasis but most often as in “yeah it’s probably a stupid idea but f**k it, what’s the worst that can happen?”

F could also be for Fish River, a place where more than ever I used my personal mantra.

G is for Giraffe, one of the most graceful and common animals I’ve seen around these here parts.

H is for Harrison, my most excellent Kenyan brother and guide to the wonders of Opuwo.

I is for Internet which I would be lost without. Lolcats, Kitlers, Rick Astley videos, german grumble flicks, email, facebook and of course not least for work (I can only fix things that have a clear description of the solution in the first page of a google search of the error displayed – yes I am ace).

I am away. Or maybe just asleep. Either way not actually posting this now now. This p**s poor effort was pre-written and scheduled for publication during the NID period. Look at me all Raymond Chen but without the skills, followers, ability or human decency.

Woah.

119 down, 9 and a bit to go.

Double woah.

Partly this is my fault for deciding to use up my outstanding leave by going on holiday for the last month of my placement but even without that it wouldn’t be long left for me.

Naturally this got me thinking about two things besides Ninja Goats (always on my mind); accomplishments and exit strategies.

I’m writing this in our ‘server room’ (I’m in here because of a naughty box which I keep needing to jump on and reset in the hope we’ll get a new one from Telecom). In here, surrounded by the myriad of wires all expertly cable tied to random stuff and threading off in many directions, with the humming of the fans and bunches of flashing lights it’s possible to think I’ve done something. Made a mess if nothing else.

Certainly now there are more people using Facebook than before I came. So a victory? Yes, surely.

As for exit strategies I’m hoping beyond hope that the three outstanding orders for networking equipment (for each of our three districts) get processed and delivered in time. Please note this is not me last-minuting, all of the quotes and necessary motivations and site visits were conducted before February, the stuff is only being ordered now (slow even by MoHSS standards).

I’m also trying to cram as much training in as possible (to office staff and also to people to handle technical issues), finish stabilising various bits, simplify the network, write a manual detailing all the infrastructure along with troubleshooting steps and arrange a 9 month VSO placement for an IT trainer to consolidate skills after I’ve gone.

Because people have now realised I’m leaving lots of jobs are also crawling out of the woodwork; “well it’s been like this for a year or so but I hear you’re leaving so you better have a look now”.

So I’m busier than ever. Proper hardcore busy in fact (today I didn’t have time for lunch doing 4 jobs simultaneously). This is getting dangerously like a real back in the world job, so much for a sedate pace-of-life.

Of course to set against this are the following: next three days on NID 1 out and about near Opuwo, three days deep in da bush for my last hurrah MoHSS adventure next month, a month in Zambia/Tanzania/Zanzibar and then the prospect of 12 months of academic reflection, student beer prices and lifestyle.

So things aren’t looking too bad.

Note: Now eight weeks to go; started writing this before getting even busier and never quite finishing it but darn it I want the title and Kim B reference to stay.

This will be my third NID (not counting the emergency Measles immunisation drives) and sadly also my last.

It’s a great opportunity to get out into da bush, meet new and interesting people, camp out under the stars like a real man, do good works ™ and as an added bonus make children cry.

Unfortunately for NID 1 I’m tied to Opuwo and so will just be going out on a daily basis then returning at night (or not returning because I’m stuck in mud/water/quicksand/on rocks). Though this has the added bonus of sleeping in my bed every night it lacks the tough real manliness and camaraderie of camping out in the middle of nowhere.

I’m tied to Opuwo thanks to one thing; the naughty modem.

In April we had a lightning-caused power surge on the Telecom network in Opuwo. It took out my ADSL router, my laptop and also the work baseband modem used to connect one of our networks to head office in Windhoek.

This left nobody able to connect to the central finance, HR or intranet systems and rather than being seen as a bonus holiday was met with consternation.

Getting a new modem would take over a week but luckily Telecom had a spare second-hand one in Opuwo and was able to bring it over the next morning and after a little setting-wrangling, prayer and repeated reboots we were back online.

All was well.

But since then and with increasing frequency a red light keeps coming up on the new modem and the connection is lost.

I could bore you with details of what this light may mean or the tests I’ve performed on the line and so on in a veiled and pathetic attempt to look like I might know what I’m talking about but I’ll spare you that (this once).

Suffice to say that on a regular basis the connection to head office is lost. People will then come and see me, usually I’m already in the room with it in cursing, and ask what the problem is (no doubt assuming I’ve broken something).

Usually turning it off and back on will solve the problem (as with 94.8721% of all IT problems) but sometimes, like today, it doesn’t and I’m left trying to find someone on the phone at Telecom or our WAN company who can turn their end off and back on.

I’ve previously pointed to the modem and said ‘it may be faulty’ or explained that the line is down and I’m trying to find out which bit is broken. Mostly this was met with blank stares. Until I pointed generally at the equipment and told someone ‘it is very naughty’ at which their eyes lit up and understanding was reached. So this has now become my formal description of the problem.

“Status report Mister David?”

“It continues to be naughty Meme”

I have now managed to open a fault with Telecom for the ongoing problem (previously they would open a fault when the line was down, when I reset the modem and it was back up the fault would be closed) so I have high (no doubt foolish) hopes we can get it sorted allowing me to get out deep into da bush for NID 2.

Here’s a picture of the GRN network rack. The naughty modem is the white box in the middle:

And here it is in close-up with some detailed technical information:

See – I know all about the flashy lights and what about those arrows done in MS Paint? Truly I am l33t to the max.

Unfortunately Telecom managed by accident (or, my preferred theory, on Erwin’s direct and evil instructions) to somehow disconnect my phone line.

The phone part doesn’t bother me, all I ever get in are wrong numbers and all that goes out is the occasional desperate plea to a bank to un-stop my card which hasn’t been stolen and is being used by me in Namibia – as I’ve told them the previous 10 times.

But it does mean I’m internetless at home. Apart from using my phone which is slow and expensive.

Cut off from the digital world and adrift.

How will I know about new Kitlers? Keep up-to-date with minute by minute minutiae of people I once vaguely met at a party via farcebook? Update my blog read once by someone by accident?

And even more importantly; how will the internet cope without me?

Oh, it’ll be fine.

Last night then I was forced to, through no fault of my own, read a book.

Curiously, though totally terrible slash-fiction, it was addictive so I didn’t get to bed until gone 1.

So a night off the late-night interchats means I’m even more knackered this morning that usual?

That can’t be right.

I’m promised they’ll fix it today though otherwise I face a weekend offline. Like any sensible planner I keep enough, ahem, contemporary technicolour entertainment available offline for internet failures but even on half-rations this would only cover 48 hours leaving sunday night dangerous for the comfort goats of Opuwo.

UPDATE 1210 10/06/2011: We’re back online. Telecom heard my pitiful cries of anguish and came, spent over an hour up ladders and now everything is fine (or at least back to where it was).

Peace Corps for those who don’t know is a US Government agency that also does international volunteering.

So what might this mean for VSO?

Simple; we may become a damn sight more *A*W*E*S*O*M*E*.

VSO was actually the inspiration for JFK to form Peace Corps, sending plucky young folk around the world to far-flung inhospitable lands to fight the good fight against poverty and all that stuff.

There are of course some major differences between VSO and PC which I will now attempt to summarise.

Organisation

Peace Corps is actually a branch of the US Government whereas VSO is an NGO (albeit largely funded from various governments such as the UK, Dutch and Canadian).

This explains why Obama made the announcement but it remains unclear how Cameron was on the bandwagon (but since he’s being very good about overseas development at the moment I will let him off).

The difference can easily be seen in flags and pictures. The PC office is adorned with flags (USA, Peace Corps, Nam…) and pictures of the president and various government officials (all carefully ordered in terms of prominence). VSO has a sign.

(I speak from experience – the other week I managed to get past the layers of security and right into the belly of the beast i.e. Peace Corps Namibia office. I was there man. I have seen the endless flaggage and pictures. Huuh-rah!)

Volunteers

PCVs are all American and often quite proud of it. Nowadays VSOs are quite diverse and come from all over the world (a big VSO focus is south-south volunteering, volunteers from a developing country to a developing country).

PCVs are generally younger (though not always, but the median age is mid-twenties for sure). The typical PCV is a year or two from university (or college to use the US term). The typical VSO is older, until our Youth for Development programme volunteers were usually at the very least 25 to have the experience. The mean age remains mid-40s for VSO.

A lot of VSO volunteers are older, often retired and looking to travel and do interesting things. VSO like older volunteers because they tend to be more stable and less drunk. And have lots of work experience of course.

PCVs are sometimes disgustingly keen and genuine. Some are so genuine and caring it can make my heart bleed out of my bottom. Often they want to be in a hut in the middle of nowhere without running water which is the opposite of VSOs who often want to be anywhere but a hut in the middle of nowhere and demand running hot water as a minimum.

VSOs are often more jaded and in some cases (speaking personally of course) travelling as a result of some deep personality defect and the need to get away from a life of drudgery.

A Peace Corps friend summarised it thus; “Peace Corps volunteers are usually running towards something whereas VSO volunteers are often running away from something”. True that.

Of course the Peace Corps are brave (or stupid – a fine line). At that age I wouldn’t have had the cohunes to do VSO let alone Peace Corps where the chances of being stuck in the middle of nowhere are very high (and they don’t know even where they’re going or what they’ll be doing).

Money

When in-country the Peace Corps are usually poorer than VSO. Not only do they get less (on average a PCV gets half what a VSO gets in Namibia) but of course being younger recent graduates in most cases they don’t have any money back home to bring over.

But before you feel sorry for them remember they have a very generous resettlement bonus, many thousands of these American dollars. When you consider the cash they get on return the PCV package is actually better than the VSO deal.

That doesn’t stop VSOs from lording it over PCVs when in-country though; “oh yes another Strawberry Dachary for me and, yes, a tap water for my PCV colleague”.

Rules

Peace Corps have a massive rulebook. Seriously. In print form it would be enough to beat an elephant to death with if you could even lift it.

Every time another one of them dies in an impressively foolish display of drunken abandon another few pages of rules are added.

PCVs are not allowed to drive, travel away from their site without letting PC know, travel away from their site for more than two weekends a month, travel internationally without specific approval in triplicate or a whole bunch of other things.

That is not to say VSO don’t have a rulebook. We have a “Terms and Conditions” package and various things we sign, but you would struggle to beat a mouse [edit 10/06/2011 *1] to death with it. You can however often hear conversations similar to this in the VSO office: “What do you mean no? Where in the rules does it say I cannot insist on being referred to as ‘the Great White God of Kamanjab’?… Oh, page 4, I see, thanks.”

Work

PCVs work for the Peace Corps. They are paid from US Government coffers and cost their ‘host organisations’ nothing other than housing.

VSOs work for their ‘employer’ (a VSO partner organisation). Usually (unless on some specifically-funded project) they are paid by the employer.

As a VSO you work for this organisation and are viewed as any other employee. You agree day-to-day (even month-to-month and year-to-year) things with your line manager and things like holiday, overtime, TOIL and working conditions are between you and them. VSO are rarely involved apart from regular reviews to make sure you’re still alive and all is going well or if things go very badly wrong.

To get leave approval a PCV must gain the permission of their ‘supervisor’ at their host organisation and then also from Peace Corps (who they actually work for). VSOs will (usually and if they remember) tell VSO when they’re on leave and where they’re going but the permission bit is from the employer (unless you go internationally in which case you need VSO permission to check you are still covered by their medical insurance and so on).

Training

PCVs get two months of up-front training when they first arrive in-country. This compares to VSO (Namibia anyway) at four days.

Prior to departure though prospective VSO volunteers must do two courses on ‘Preparing to Volunteer’ and ‘Skills for Working in Development’. There’s also a lot of stuff available online including language courses if this will be required for your placement.

PCVs get none of this, they only meet up the night before they fly and then it’s off to wherever. They also only get their vaccinations when they arrive which can make for some interesting first few days in-country. In their training they are made to sing lots of songs such as the US and Namibian anthems every day. I can’t imagine VSO doing this or the look of horror on faces were it even to be suggested.

VSOs look at PCVs language skills with envy. PCVs look at VSOs lack of two months of indoctrination and just getting on with it with envy. The grass is always greener.

Getting Along

Of course being fellow international volunteers VSOs and PCVs have always interacted and partied down together.

Personally I’ve had (and continue to have) some very good PCV friends. Right now in Opuwo the rest of the VSO contingent is Dutch and I don’t care how friendly they appear to be what with their smiles, nice words and invitations – I know they are secretly drawing their plans against me whereas I think (hope) the PCVs are more benign.

The Future

So what will the future hold? Will VSOs start spending months singing songs before leaving to their placements? Will they start tearing up at the US national anthem as some PCVs do (seriously)?

Will VSOs start ‘wooing’ at random intervals? Take pictures of themselves jumping up and down? Become more loving of freedom? Talk about ‘merica with tears in their eyes? Become more *A*W*E*S*O*M*E*?

Probably not but time will tell.

Woo!

P.S. Please note there are some actual important differences between how VSO and PC work, their aims and how/where they send their volunteers. Those are outside the scope of this post as they are dangerously close to serious considerations.

Footnote *1: This section originally stated you would struggle to beat to death a housefly with the VSO T&Cs. It has been pointed out that only I would struggle due to natural weakness but others would find it easy. Therefore after extensive experiements in which many animals were harmed it has been settled you would stuggle to beat to death a mouse (though this is not impossible).

Feedback from a couple of people that I had “made a few good points” and the like was enough to steer me towards just repeatedly writing the word buttocks on the blog. Probably in different colours and in different sizes. But so far I have resisted. Buttocks.

Mainly they seemed shocked I could make any sensible points at all having seen me at the last VSO review when I asked “I understand we are advocating on HIV issues but are we advocating for or against HIV?” and of course the national meeting where I made the most inappropriate joke ever (and lived to tell the tale).

Bizarrely as well I keep meeting more and more people who have read my blog (“oh you’re that Dave” and a look of pity). I suppose it’s not that surprising given the lack of active VSO Namibia bloggers compared to other countries meaning I come dangerously high in search results.

Running as I do the totally crap VSO Journals blog aggregator (an unofficial directory of most VSO blogs worldwide with latest posts and so on) I’m also exposed to quite a few other VSO bloggers from around the world and often marvel at how well written and informative they are. This makes me feel guilty and want to either post something decent or revert to the word buttocks.

VSO, bless their cotton socks, have embraced volunteer blogs as a good source of advertisement and research material for prospective volunteers even going so far as to list most volunteer blogs on their website. I always thought this might be a bit of a double-edged sword as the downside of everyone having a voice is that everyone has a voice. On the whole though us vols are a disgustingly positive bunch, in some cases surprised and pleased someone would pay for them to go on a long-term jaunt to the sunshine (me) and in others offering informed and deep insight into development work, the real impacts made and the challenges faced and overcome (not me).

My biggest amazement (apart from anyone reading at all) is that I haven’t got into trouble (yet – there is still time). I have two things to thank for this; never posting anything of substance and my country director having a sense of humour (or at least a great deal of patience).

In fact the nearest I’ve come to complaints rather weirdly involved zie cheetahs but the least said about that the better (other than of course you should all visit the Otjitotongwe Cheetah Farm in Kamanjab).

So, on that note, buttocks.

I arrived to find their server locked up and unresponsive (though still serving some stuff). Luckily just as I was pondering exactly which hammer I should use to hit it with a couple of familiar faces turned up; two of the IT guys from our head office had also come to beat Erongo’s computers into submission.

This was an amazing piece of luck and meant they could actually work on complex stuff like our VDI (Virtual Desktop Infrastructure – I think) systems while I posed about, tapped PCs encouragingly with one of my aforementioned hammers and stood with them in the server room interjecting pointless suggestions; “could it be the Dilithium crystals or perhaps the fan-belt?”.

Surprisingly even with my inept getting in the way (actually I am truly brilliant at getting in the way) not too much went wrong and after a day and a half of turning stuff off, then on, then off, counting to five, and finally back on again most of the really important stuff was working.

The guys then left back to home base leaving me to try and finish off the couple of remaining small issues, one of which I actually fixed. I also totally setup a new Active Directory user account which bizarrely enough worked.

Of course all work and no play makes Dave a dull boy so it was my sacred duty on the Friday afternoon after finishing off in the offices and before collecting my boss from the workshop to go Quad Biking in the dunes.

Very expensive but worth it. They gave me an automatic bike and we were off through the sands. I even got to use briefly my dune charging skills and get a few stories out of daring do in the Namib on MoHSS missions. Beautiful scenery and I didn’t get stuck once mainly because I was just shouting “Banzai!” and going full-pelt at the sand.

Random Technical Rant: Proxy Servers

The GRN (Government of the Republic of Namibia) network is a large-scale WAN (Wide Area Network) and encompasses hundreds (if not thousands) of sites around the country.

Because lots of stuff is tied together between Ministries (for example the financial systems for the Ministry of Health are actually run by the Ministry of Finance) this is one big network rather than each Ministry having its own WAN.

The buck stops at the core of the network in the OPM (Office of the Prime Minister) where all the core backbone links from the various Ministries end up.

To get internet access from anywhere in the GRN network you need to use a proxy server in the OPM.

All good.

Now the problem for a long time has been the main proxy server has been overloaded. This doesn’t seem to be some deliberate attempt to slow down internet access (keeping bandwidth free for internal systems) as even proxy error pages and responses take forever if they come at all.

There is a second proxy server which you can also use but this, though faster, seems more unreliable than the main one.

To try and fix this a new super-shiny proxy server has been built.

The only problem now is that all the clients have been manually configured to use a proxy. It seems that using WPAD/PAC (Web Proxy Auto-Discovery Protocol/Proxy auto-config) has been somehow overlooked or decided against.

Argh!

Combine that with the new super-shiny server being down while I was in Swakopmund meant that everyone is still using the old super-slow one and will need a visit to every office to resolve once its up.

The new super-shiny server is on the same subnet (nary a single IP apart) from the super-slow one so another alternative would have been to just use the same IP. But alas this is not to be.

All three (super-slow, randomly-working and super-shiny) are of course various proprietary bits of kit, the super-shiny being some sort of Oracle thing.

I’m sure all this is happening for some reason I don’t understand but for what it’s worth here is my advice: use WPAD/PAC and SQUID for the love of all that is sacred.

Easy, automatic, fast, wonderful and FREE!

There is no truth to the rumour that Dan damaged the cable when running it.

Further it is untrue that any power-based interference was causing a problem on the line.

Both RJ-45 connections were firmly attached and all 8 of the cables were seated well at both ends.

In fact the only problem found was the small, almost insignificant, matter of one of the ends being put on upside down.

I should like to take this opportunity to say the I have complete confidence in Dan’s Computer Services and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them. Accusations involving “schoolboy errors” are misinformed, unhelpful and frankly insulting.

Of the group I arrived with a lifetime ago in March 2009 very few are left. Two of my good friends are now finished at work and have flights booked for a glorious return to the homeland in time for the Royal Wedding* (gawd bless ‘em).

It’s freaky to think that if I hadn’t made the move to put off a return to the world for another six months it would be me packing, disposing of empty beer bottles, deciding what to do with the cat and my Himba wives. All with the added pressure of not knowing what I would be returning to or what I would do next. Luckily though I’ve postponed that. Phew.

So; two years. Long time. Have I achieved my goals of becoming a more balanced, caring, compassionate and soulful individual? How about finding new meaning and spiritual redemption through manual labours and living in the developing world?

No. None of that.

How about doing good works ™ and helping the orphans achieve advocacy for their climate-gender-change programmes?

Not so much.

I have collected a nice range of oozing wounds and various styles of scabs from the numerous bites, scratches and presumed egg-laying sites on my body.

I have, selfishly, had a jolly good time. Serious. This Namibia lark is a good crack.

In between I’ve managed to train a few people on computer-whatsits, install some cables (give facebook to the masses in other words), procure some new kit, offer pointless and usually incorrect advice on finance or statistics and almost kill a Himba woman through the power of dance.

I’ve also lost a large part of what little English ability I ever had, have lower hygiene standards than ever and if certain people are to be believed (which they’re not) lost most of my social filter as a benefit of nobody here ever understanding a word I’m saying (of course others would say my social filter was faulty to begin with – they can go and **** ****** **** with a ***** and a rusty *****).

This blog post was going to be a introspective analysis of my time to date or something. You know, deep like all those other posts I keep meaning to write. I seem to have failed. Again. La-de-dah.

As always I plead the Larium.

* Whoops – post written a while ago and for some reason not posted. So there you go.