I've been offline for the last week because I've been at what can only be described as Hostile Environment Security Summer Camp. It's for NGO workers who are stationed in or travel on a regular basis to Somalia.
It had all the things you usually find at summer camp.
A ropes course for team-building:
Tents and a campfire:
Friendly, free-roaming pets:
Beautiful landscape:
Warthogs (okay, so Camp McDowell didn't exactly have those...):
Oh, and you know, your garden variety fake ambushes, illegal checkpoints, road traffic accidents, and kidnappings.
Just kidding! The only real casualties were my notebook and sweatshirt, both lost in the (fake) ambush the second day of training, and my shins from a round of (fake) gunfire, because even though my mind said, "Hey, this is fake!" my Type A personality said, "Whatever, fake! We're going to WIN THIS even though it isn't a competition! We're going to be the valedictorian of fake fire fights!" and then made me hit the ground and crawl on my stomach through the bush while wearing capri pants, which left array of bleeding thorn scratches on my poor shins. One day I'll learn...
Side note: I tried to explain to our lovely housekeeper Ruth that it was fake blood she was washing out of my sweatshirt, but I don't think the conversation went very well. I think she's been avoiding me since I got back.
After four days of paranoia about the next (fake) attack and no interaction with the outside world, I was quite happy to climb up out of the Rift Valley at sunset and head back to Nairobi....
It had all the things you usually find at summer camp.
A ropes course for team-building:
Tents and a campfire:
Hiking (in this case, up to the top of the hill where there was rumored to be cell phone signal to download my emails and call my boss because the office couldn't possibly survive without me...):
Beautiful landscape:
Warthogs (okay, so Camp McDowell didn't exactly have those...):
Oh, and you know, your garden variety fake ambushes, illegal checkpoints, road traffic accidents, and kidnappings.
Just kidding! The only real casualties were my notebook and sweatshirt, both lost in the (fake) ambush the second day of training, and my shins from a round of (fake) gunfire, because even though my mind said, "Hey, this is fake!" my Type A personality said, "Whatever, fake! We're going to WIN THIS even though it isn't a competition! We're going to be the valedictorian of fake fire fights!" and then made me hit the ground and crawl on my stomach through the bush while wearing capri pants, which left array of bleeding thorn scratches on my poor shins. One day I'll learn...
Side note: I tried to explain to our lovely housekeeper Ruth that it was fake blood she was washing out of my sweatshirt, but I don't think the conversation went very well. I think she's been avoiding me since I got back.
After four days of paranoia about the next (fake) attack and no interaction with the outside world, I was quite happy to climb up out of the Rift Valley at sunset and head back to Nairobi....
And, BONUS! I finally memorized the phonetic alphabet and mastered VHF radios!
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