A Sudden Deployment: Haiti Bound

Mid-September found me in a blissful state of domesticity. The kids were happy, my wife content, and the comfortable routine of home life lulled me into a false sense of security. Little did I know, on September 17th, the rug would be pulled from under our familial peace. The call came – Haiti, ravaged by [insert specific disaster in Haiti - earthquake, hurricane etc.], needed immediate assistance, and I was being deployed.

The news hit my family like a ton of bricks. We'd all envisioned a few weeks apart, a manageable separation. Now, six daunting months stretched before us. Witnessing the initial shock and worry on their faces was a stark reminder of the personal sacrifices that come with this line of work.

But amidst the whirlwind, a ray of sunshine emerged. My three-year-old daughter, in a display of precocious empathy, took it upon herself to comfort her younger sibling. "Don't worry," she declared, her voice brimming with a conviction that belied her age, "Papa's just going on a work trip. He'll be back soon, and guess what? He'll bring cheese and a new dress!" Her innocent words, laced with love and understanding, became a beacon of hope in that moment of uncertainty.

The following two days were a blur of frantic activity. Packing for a six-month deployment is a logistical feat in itself, but add to that the emotional goodbyes and whispered reassurances, and it becomes an exercise in controlled chaos. The long journey to Haiti was a test of endurance. Ahmedabad to Doha, then a seemingly endless hop to London with Qatar Airways. Both airlines, while efficient, lacked the creature comforts – particularly the vegetarian options and engaging entertainment – that make long flights bearable. By the time Iberia Airlines whisked me from London to Madrid and then Santo Domingo, exhaustion was setting in. The final leg, a UNHAS flight to Port-au-Prince, felt like a dream as jet lag and earaches, brought on by the relentless changes in air pressure, conspired to cloud my mind.

Arriving in Port-au-Prince was a sensory overload. The airport bustled with foreign aid workers, their languages a cacophony against the backdrop of hurried greetings and barked instructions. Meetings and introductions became a blur of faces and voices. The 10.30-hour time difference threw my internal clock into disarray, and the humid, cool air, a stark contrast to the warmth of home, added another layer of adjustment. It took several days to recover, the constant cotton-wool feeling in my ears a constant reminder of the journey.

But amidst the fatigue and disorientation, a quiet determination settled in. Haiti, with its challenges and complexities, awaited. The initial shock of deployment had passed, replaced by a focused resolve to contribute to the relief efforts. This is just the first chapter in my Haitian story. Stay tuned for further dispatches from the field, where I'll share insights into the ongoing relief efforts and the resilience of the Haitian people.