Where have all the flowers gone?

No, this is not about Pete Seeger's song. I'm just reacting to this NYT article "Where Have 140 Million Dutch Tulips Gone? Crushed by the Coronavirus."

I tell myself, oh well, it's only flowers. Non-essential. But it is more than about flowers. It's about millions of people missing out on the bounty and beauty of spring, at least in the northern hemisphere.

Or maybe it's about spring itself - budding, sprouting, blooming - doing what it does every year and I realize, perhaps with a sense of desolation (as in God has forsaken us), that nature is oblivious to the ongoing suffering of humans around the world. That spring will pass hardly noticing that we humans are in big trouble.

But then again we do have all the time now to notice spring. In Amman for example, we have curfew from 6 pm to 10 am the next day, which means that from 10 am to 6 pm each day, one can always take a break from working from home and walk the streets of one's neighborhood to notice wisteria vines in full purple bloom, wildflowers covering empty lots, new leaves on grapevines and olive trees..
It is during these walks that I feel so privileged to have this time, this time to pause, look, touch, think, breathe. And yet, and yet, feelings of wonder and hope mix with feelings of indescribable anxieties. There is certainty that spring will pass into summer, into autumn, into winter then the seasons will start all over again. But there are so many uncertainties as to what 'normal' cycle we humans will go back into as things we cannot see, like this coronavirus, may stay with us for quite a while.

It is now even hard to imagine history repeating itself as Pete Seeger's song suggests - girls pick flowers, men pick girls, wars pick men, men go to graveyards, flowers cover graveyards.

Those millions of Dutch tulips went straight into their own graveyard... 

Post-Easter ruminations

Person1: "The body of Christ given for you." [Holds out a plate of crackers.]
Person2: "Amen" [Takes a piece of cracker.]

Person1: "The blood of Christ shed for you." [Holds out a glass of wine.]
Person2: "Amen" [Dips cracker into glass of wine and puts cracker in mouth.]

[Reverse roles]

My husband and I never thought we'd be administering communion to each other this way. We always thought this was only done by either ordained priests/ministers or designated laypersons. But we agreed that it was a way to fully participate in an Easter service put up on YouTube by our local church back in Portland, Oregon. [We also had the option of attending another service by Zoom and we did attend the virtual coffee hour via that app in between services.]

One more thing to add to the list of 'unprecedenteds' in our lives in this time of Covid-19...

In any case, it was good to connect to a faith community - something that we took for granted as we went about our so-called humanitarian work around the world, becoming "Easter Christians" in the process. As if being strong in one's faith goes against the humanitarian principles of humanity, impartiality, neutrality and independence...When maybe, in fact, having a strong base of faith (be it Christian, Muslim, Jew, Buddhist, Hindu, etc.) frees oneself to truly advocate for these principles to meet the needs of populations we are supposed to serve.

But it's easy to go on with humanitarian work because of the privileges it provides - travel, R&R, danger or hardship pay, per diems, etc. or because one could not earn this much or enjoy travel and other benefits with a regular job back in the U.S. It's easy to get lost in these perks and stay in the sector because it is comfy. It's easy to get cocooned comfortably in secured compounds, houses or apartments and not worry about not being able to pay the rent at the end of the month.

There are good reasons to professionalize humanitarian work and make it competitive, benefits-wise, with job markets of other sectors. There are good reasons to keep humanitarian actors as safe as possible. But sometimes, one seeks to strip the work of all its wrappings and be able to ask one's self, will I seek to serve the needy if I only get paid this much or if I may have to sacrifice personal comforts or even my life?

That would be the next unprecedented...or perhaps a return to some precedent before we erected all these structures in how we respond to the world's humanitarian crises?

Pink moon, Pearl Harbor and Hydroxychloroquine

Yeah. After a while things get
All mixed up in your head.
But you look up to the sky
Looking for the Pink Moon
Nick Drake on your ears
U.S. officials talking about
Pearl Harbor moments
Hy-droxy-chloro-quine
Got that?
What have you got to lose?

Pandemics and burial procedures

It has become part of my routine each morning - looking at the numbers in Johns Hopkins Covid-19 map - confirmed cases, deaths, recovered, particularly for Jordan where I am, the U.S. states where my children are, and the Philippines where my brothers and sisters live. As if the rise and fall of these numbers can somehow give some logic to a creeping anxiety about death and dying.

Of course they don't. The deaths are not mere numbers or even bodies. They are grandparents, parents, brothers, sisters, spouses, children...

But we need to count the dead if only to properly deal with the practicalities not only of the health system but of the death system that societies have built as their duty to the dead. What is the capacity of morgues and funeral parlors? How do we deal with cultural or religious burial practices and still be vigilant about the risks of further infection when dead bodies are handled improperly?

The WHO has put out an interim guidance on Infection Prevention and Control for the safe management of a dead body in the context of COVID-19. The Social Science in Humanitarian Action published a tool for Assessing key considerations for burial practices, death and mourning in epidemics.

In Jordan, after the first Covid-19 death was reported about a week ago, the Head of Jordan's National Center for Forensic announced a set of burial procedures for people who die of the coronavirus, including not washing the dead body, cremating it, and burying it in a concrete grave. These procedures are a stark departure from how Muslims normally treat their dead but the pace and scale of this pandemic probably justify giving the state the power to go against cultural norms if it means avoiding more deaths.

As individuals and communities, we are also adapting to ways that would have normally gone against tradition. Like other communal activities around milestones of life (births, marriages, graduations), memorial services are moving online during this time of crisis.

Yes, we are now accepting how this pandemic is changing every aspect of our lives, including how we bury our dead and mourn together. There will be more deaths in the days and months to come. We probably will have to live with all kinds of anxieties and will suffer scars long after this pandemic. We just hope we evolve better and stronger, together.

Covid-infodemic fatigue

I’ve been wanting to read and write something not related to covid-19 but here we are – in lockdowns, curfews, voluntary quarantines, etc. to keep this virus of the size between 0.08 and 0.12 microns from entering our bodies but force us to enter the digital realm where it’s hard not to let in terabytes of covid information flood our consciousness.

No wonder “Turkmenistan fights COVID-19 by banning the word 'coronavirus”.

I believe I have walked every street in Shmeisani and have mapped where every open grocery store is, not to mention which house I could rob of sprigs of creepers and other plants that I can easily transplant into this Airbnb’s garden spaces.

But I’m running out of garden dirt to dig and sow and I’ve run out of inspiration to write and draw. I’ve been checking my anger and latent depression over a withdrawal of a job that already had secure funding and for which I’ve put in so much energy learning and preparing for even without a contract while waiting for the visa to Yemen.

Mostly because I am a spouse of somebody and those who made the decision to withdraw their selection of me had a bitter experience with a wife who held the same role three years ago.

Who knows what happened then. But talk about disillusionment with decision-making processes in the humanitarian sector. I am the kind of person who will gladly accept personal loss for a common good but not this or in this manner.

But much of life, I think, is about getting over disappointments and losses and moving on, keeping an eye for things to improve and to celebrate.

Like that patch of dirt just outside of the gate of this Airbnb…

Seriously, I do still manage to summon the energy to keep myself abreast of conversations in the humanitarian sector like this ALNAP-led webinar I attended two days ago - Making aid work for people in crises. Questions of relevance that the humanitarian community has been talking about for years. Nothing new but it’s precisely that which make these topics important to open up again and again for discussion to explore and gain new insights as we cycle through similar crises but in different contexts and times.

So, yes, first, I need to be thankful for the abundance of information to work with and gather up the passion and the energy to contribute to solutions…