Dan

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I was inspired by the thought of Obama’s portrait being added to the ranks of all those old white men, beloved fathers of the country, forgotten historical oddities, leaders both great and imperfect. His face will be quite an addition to that gallery.

And just to clarify, few sane folk here are into Palin.  There was a great sigh of relief when she was finally allowed onto the public stage without (as many) handlers so she could relay just how close Russia really is to Alaska. A great homegrown explanation for everyone else by a few folks in Juneau can be found here (some of their other videos are pretty okay too, they threw the Palin one together pretty quick). Good luck, ‘merica.

After training for months, and a rainy/quiet AK fire season, our crew was called down to California to work on one of the 12000 odd fires down there, almost all caused by an intense bout of lightning in July. We were sent to the Canyon Complex (a complex is a regional operations hub where upper tiers of command are located, along with staging fire crews, engines, supply, planning sections, GIS, etc.) near the headwaters of the Feather River in Plumas National Forest. We were shuffled through a few different fires before being sent to Feather Creek spike (a secondary camp set up to allow for quicker regional access). Here we worked on the Frey fire, cutting a line through the trees and brush, then backfiring it towards to main body of flame, so that when the fire moved towards what we cut, there would be less fuel to sustain it, reducing its insensity and likely stopping it in its tracks (if all goes well). Hotlining, is one of the most intense and fun operations we did. Cutting down burning trees, running back and forth with the hoses, and making sure the fire didn’t jump the line and ruin our work requires everyone to work in concert, work hard, and stay on their toes at all times

Basically, the most fun piece of this job is that when there is fire on the line the job can’t be cheesed, faked, fobbed, half-assed, or phoned in. People put their all in to the work they do in an efficient and intelligent manner while keeping an eye on each other’s 6; everyone working harder so the guy next to them doesn’t have to, which makes for a great environment and a tight crew.

Basically I like it, and I’ll likely be doing it again.

In the meantime it’s back to Juneau for the winter doing ski patrol at Eaglecrest in December, in Bethel AK for some cutting in November, and likely cycling between Bellingham WA and Arcata CA during late sept/oct, but who really knows. I’ve been busy trying to get picked up by an IHC outfit (the top level besides smokejumpers in firefighting) from the lower 48, as all the open AK slots got filled, but have plenty of good recommendations and qualifications and all that junk. Again, its a competitive environment, and operates well as such. We’ll see what the next few weeks bring.

]]> http://www.madape.org/2008/08/firewhirls/feed/ 0 http://www.madape.org/2008/07/talking_grasshoppers/ http://www.madape.org/2008/07/talking_grasshoppers/#comments Thu, 31 Jul 2008 07:43:05 +0000 dan http://www.madape.org/?p=155 I spent a bit of effort earlier this summer to get a photosynthesis-measuring device out to China, and friends and family alike may be curious to see what it’s all about. Mika suggested I get some video of the magic box in action, so: action! Arianne, another American researcher here, volunteered to be the cinematographer. As a grasshopper expert, she asks some good questions:

And continued:

My other projects are focused on plant diversity and understanding how exactly species interactions determine the way the whole ecosystem functions, but those aren’t as photogenic. Now I’m inspired to take some more video of this place, though — stay tuned.

The road is straight and paved, wide enough for at least three cars to pass each other abreast.  Like most of the town (or city, if you have a good sense of proportion), the road is lined with large leafy trees.  The UNDP office is one of three large buildings spread out evenly on the north side of the road; one roughly every kilometer.  Most of the surrounding structures are low one-story shacks or houses.  It’s hard to tell what happens off the road since the town is obscured by the green bush and red dirt roads.  So we stand out in sharp contrast to the capital-poor areas around us, but it is deceptive.  There is a lot going on in the green.

The building stands out also because it is an odd rectangular cube-shape, and if the 20 foot walls didn’t obscure one’s view of the courtyard that wraps around the building, one could see that the top six floors are balanced on a single story of enclosed stairwell.  It used to be the Japanese embassy and the efficiently used space inside features narrow stairways and rooms that stack narrowly next too each other.  It looks like a fat alien cube, plugged into the red earth.

The maze-like interior takes a while to get used to.  I’m five weeks in and I still don’t know where everyone sits, although I’ve gone on excursions with the excuse of finding out this and that to explore.  We share the building with the Global Fund for AIDS and the World Food Program (I think).  I feel like an ant when I first arrive but this feeling has been dispelled by the languid, slow pace of work.  There is no scurrying, at least not physically.

Underneath and within the work, the UN system promotes a passive-aggressive type of bunkering in to one’s position, defending your right to advance.  Local and international staff alike are here partly for the noble mission of the organization, but mostly for the money (click here to see a publicly available Excel chart that describes pay grades for the most prized positions).  The UN was designed to be the best civil service on the planet so it has taken the highest civil service reimbursement available, which is that of the Americans.  For staff who come from developing countries, these are unheard-of sums.  For Northerns, these are middle-high to somewhat high sums.

But you have to earn the right to earn, which means advancing through the system.  There are several levels for national and international staff, each level associated with several different job titles.  The levels have labels like  GS (general service), P (professional), D (director) up the the lofty echelons of the secretariat in New York and other administrative bodies in Geneva, Nairobi, and possibly elsewhere.  Getting on the first rung is extremely important, as your first full-time position means that you are in the system.  For life, or a big screw-up, whichever comes first.  Most people work on a short-time scale within the countries they are posted.  Rather than being assigned to a place or position for the long term, one receives contracts structured around a year or two.  Longer contracts are in some cases not desirable, as you must finish the contract before being eligible for advancing.  For most people, the short-term nature of their employment means no small amount of effort is spent on seeking opportunities for their next (and hopefully better) posting.

Of course I’m piecing this together and certainly don’t have a definitive picture just yet.  But this general outline reveals the somewhat backwards work incentives and systemic problems that can easily lead to deep rifts within.  It is difficult to engage completely with your given mission or task if in the back of your head you are thinking about how to get ahead:  show results, follow the rules, make people happy.  This probably sounds familiar to anyone who has had a job anywhere at any point in time; the stakes are higher for those whom these positions represent a unique, golden ticket.  And the bureaucracy that helps these giant organizations try to weed out nepotism, corruption and inefficiency takes on a life of its own, presenting formidable challenges to the many newly minted civil servants to the world.

In our building these challenges exist, as in all work places.  Members of my group are of course on the hunt just like anyone, and there is nothing wrong with this.  I’m actually quite grateful to have the opportunity to see the process from this perspective, which was one of my goals for the summer.  I’m even more grateful that we are not completely on the defensive, wrapped up in advancing our careers or that of our supervisors – I think there is more of a commitment to the people served, and a better understanding of how to work within the system and get things done.  Also instructive.

Whatever the motivation, we’re working hard despite what could be a work-stopping shortage of enabling resources like electricity, internet, and sometimes food if the guy in the office canteen has not planned properly.  The generator in the building is now running seven hours a day, the maximum prescribed by the maintenance guys.  There is a strict schedule but this is hard to adhere to when a part breaks or a meeting has to run longer than scheduled – so we’re making maps and running the websites and editing reports and researching and writing and all of this is at the whim of the sudden dim whine of everything in the building powering down.  It drives us to seek out sources, relying on companion organizations who have better generators, or who are located on more privileged power lines.  So now there is real physical scurrying to-and-fro, a lot of jumping in landcruisers or taxis, driving around the city.  Especially at 4:30 in the afternoon, when our generator gives out.  We spend a lot of the week huddled in the server room at the Ministry of Planning, trying to meet deadlines.

And me; I’m nearly half-way through and haven’t quite met as many personal or work goals as I would like.  The ankle is a bit better but all this activity means I have to spend more time on physical therapy.  I also spent a lot of this week squinting through a fierce headache so I’m going to cut back on drinking the boiled water and splurge on large containers of the filtered stuff.  Two of my roommates are out on missions (field work) so our power-less fridge has sprouted a jungle of fungi and foul odors; I might’ve picked up something from the spring cleaning I did.  I won a small victory in getting partially reimbursed for travel expenses; its my first reminder that all this hunting can and does literally pay off.  Before I leave, I am hoping to see this manifest itself in something other than a benefit for me.

Today started as a complete bust. I and the student helping me had rushed through our breakfast of flatbread and bean soup to get our equipment ready, only to find no cars ready to take us to the field site. Finally we got a ride with a surly geology professor, and after half an hour of bouncing along the dirt roads arrived at the field site. At 8am, the heat was already rising off the green-golden grassland. The two of us dragged our equipment up and down the long walk to the experiment: giant case with a “portable” photosynthesis measuring thingy, car battery to power it, and a light-sensor magic wand.

The plan was to collect lots of photosynthesis data on the grasses here, to figure out why it is that when we have more species in an experimental plot, total productivity rises; apparently the species are each carving out a very specific niche, to take advantage of distinct resource pools. My job was to figure out how they are carving up the light resources in the canopy.

I had lent the machine to another student the day before, and he had gotten it dirty and messed up some small things, so I was already a little grumpy. But here came the whopper: I opened the case and found I had forgotten the cable to connect the machine to the battery. “Dang!” I shouted. No, actually I was quite a bit more creative than that, and my student definitely learned some new English phrases. I stewed on it, and after some phone calls, decided the morning was already wasted. I eventually got myself back to the station (my student did some magic wand light measurements for me), and found out the next clunker of the morning: my room was a total wreck. 

Samples and equipment were willy-nilly scattered throughout the room. Wha? It turns out yet more folks were coming to this station, run by the Institute of Botany in the Chinese Academy of Science, and so my room was being “readied” to go from two to five people… and we would have no space to store our equipment or samples. After a frustrating conversation with the impassive dorm-management dominatrix, I returned to sit on it, muttering under my breath.

The whole point of being here (here, actually) is to do some creative biology research on how species interact to drive ecosystem functioning. So far, it has been going great, data are rolling in, and I’m making myself useful to the Chinese researchers here in a few ways. But every now and then, a day like today rolls around, when nothing goes right.

However, things quite suddenly and completely turned around. I spoke with the station director, and hearing my frustration he offered to clear out some lab space for me to store things. Ok: great, actually! Then, I found out that one student in the “good” dorm was leaving, and I could take his place: Even better! When trying to arrange a car for the next day, one driver suggested that I just borrow a car and drive myself, so I wouldn’t have to wait around: Super! Finally, another photosynthemaniac needed some help, and I was able to fix her machine in a display of cleverness and competence: Ta da!

So all of a sudden, a grim, data-less day brightened. A few minor triumphs made up for the day’s false starts.

Co-workers return from their vacations and my fears of a rut are temporarily avoided (but may be multiplied, depending on the outcome of the next sentence). Two large problems present themselves and promise to make the rest of the summer more interesting. I discover Lebanese food and play volleyball in a pool. I also see a bazooka for the first time in my life. Sacre bleu

First problem. Most of the movement in the last two years in this country has come with a lot of prodding and advocating from the building I’m working in, but this week we learn that our boss will be departing for Sudan. There is no small amount of bad-ness in this news, because it means that a great deal of energy and experience will leave with him. There is a real possibility that the momentum built up will probably dissipate, leaving the international NGOs here in a lurch.

Second problem. The power issues I also mentioned before worsened considerably during the week. Normally, the power will cut at night for several hours and everyone is used to that. Different grids around the city receive different levels of service: the presidential palace, for example, never has any worries. Other lower-income areas may have no or little power. Other areas, reputedly home to assorted favored friends and aquaintances of the leadership, may not suffer as many power cuts. Interruptions during the day are unusual, but easily dealt with by turning on a loud, snarling generator that drinks something like 26 liters of fuel an hour.

During week #3 we noticed that the generator was turning on more often, and for longer. We began to hear rumors that there was something wrong with the turbines in Boali, the place with the waterfall (singular). Something had been caught in the turbine? Then we heard that in trying to fix the turbine, the authorities discovered that the necessary spare parts had been stolen. One could discern a rationing pattern by the middle of the week: the power would be out all day, but would be on for one or two hours at night, around dinner time. By the end of the week (#3) it was clear that there was no power, at all, available for our building or for the surrounding blocks. Even at night.

What had been hazy rumors and well-that’s-just-Bangui-for-you talk now acquired a more urgent tone. By the start of my week #4 information was more readily available. Now the story was that the turbine had been hit by lightning, but the copper grounding wires had been stolen for sale in the current lucrative market for copper. The damaged turbine, before capable of 24 megawatts, now could put out only eight. Or four, no one is really sure. The government made an emergency announcement that we should all prepare for six months of intermittent power. Another story had the French government offering a 22 million bailout package, on the condition that they managed how the repair money was spent. In this story, the president refused, demanding that the local government be given sole jurisdiction over this new pot of gold.

Whatever the truth of the background story, Bangui’s burgeoning progress has crashed to a halt. Bodies in morgues are being buried because there is no power to keep them cold. Hospitals are using emergency generators and there are worries (among the expat community) about the cleanliness of water, the availability of health care, and other essential services that rely on electricity. So now the darkness is upon Bangui, a very real reminder of just how far the country has to go, and just how basic some of the issues are. Water, power, organization, coordination. Perhaps not simple, but important for sure.

With the generator limping along at work, the darkness only affects me at night, where I head home to cook in the dark after working until the power goes out (maybe 7 or 8pm). By the end of the week, the office operations manager has worked out a rationing scheme to keep us working for some hours a week, while preserving the generator. I’m not sure what plan B is. On July 2nd, the US ambassador hosted a soiree at his house in honor of the 232nd birthday of the US. I arrived late with a fellow American, after the CAR president had arrived. This meant that his personal security detail, some of the largest stony-est-faced people I’ve met. Our taxi was stopped a block short of the residence by several men with machine guns. One approached the cab holding a large bazooka, poked his head in, and suggested that we proceed ahead on foot. We agreed. Most the the invitees were other diplomats, Central African politicians, and a smattering of Americans (mostly missionaries). I met some other NGO kids and had some nice samosas, but was disappointed by the obvious lack of hot dogs and Budweiser. Fourth of July party, my derriere.

One of the four embassy staff invited this group of NGOers over for an afternoon at his pool, so Saturday afternoon passed by in a nice haze of local beverages and volleyball in the pool. Another retreat to the bubble, but a welcome one after a week of on-again off-again power cuts and frustrations at work.

The darkness makes every little thing an adventure. Walking home, for instance. I should stress again that this city, or more accurately large village, is perfectly safe. I haven’t encountered any problems, nor have I heard of anyone having issues beyond the occasional dispute with a vendor or taxi driver over inflated foreigner prices. But all the same, the one block walk home is interesting. Expats tend to cluster around the well-lit restaurants and domiciles like moths in the night, which makes every evening a social one. Unless you go home and cook in the dark, then read in your headlamp’s pool of light.  Not so fun, after several nights in a row.

But:  that’s how almost everyone in the CAR lives.  So the silver lining is that I’m more in tune with local life than I was before.  I’ve never appreciated electrons more.