The Lullaby Singer (1)

This story is inspired by the greatest famine of the century in Ethiopia from 1983 to 1985. About 7.75 million, 20 percent of the total population of 40 million, were affected. (Wikipedia)

At the office of the United Nations Commission on Human Rights (UNCHR) in New York, Jacqui, a senior refugee specialist, consults her boss Frederick.

Frederick: Tell me one good reason why you have to go, Jacqui.

Jacqui: This is special for me, Frederick.

Frederick: You have tons of work here. Sorry, you can’t go. There’s nothing for you in Ethiopia.

Jacqui: Yes, there is. It’s close to my heart. This is what I live for.

Frederick: Not good enough.

Jacqui: I’m a field person. This desk job is killing me.

Frederick: No, and that’s final.

Jacqui: Then I resign. I can’t stand it anymore.

Frederick: Be reasonable, Jacqui. I need you.

From those last three words, Jacqui knows she has the upper hand. She quickly storms out of the room. But outside, she walks slowly, hoping to hear him holler. Silence. After 10 paces, her heart sinks. Tears roll down her cheeks. She cannot resign. This job is her last card before alcoholism.

Frederick: (Screaming) Jacqui, get your ass back here!

Jacqui gives a soft scream, and wipes her tears before she re-enters the room.

Frederick: Okay, you win. Fifteen days, that’s all.

Arriving in Addis Ababa, she is met at the airport by David, a UN veteran in charge of the massive food program. He is feeding a staggering 850,000 who are dying of hunger.

David: Ms. Jacqueline Durmont?

Jacqui: Just call me Jacqui.

David: Thank God you’re here. We need a troubleshooter badly. We go straight to the refugee camp in my jeep. Hey, you look so happy and excited.

Jacqui: I am, I am.

David: This is not the place to be happy. About 4,000 die every day, about one half percent of the entire camp. More than half of them are children below four. Are you still happy?

Jacqui: Okay, okay, I’m now sad.

David: You’re quite a legend around here. Colonel Umba idolizes you, Ms. Durmont.

Jacqui: Name is Jacqui.

Cutting across the vast desert, the jeep churns up a cloud of dust. All around, they see people trudging along in the direction of the camp. Jacqui sees something.

Jacqui: (Shouting) Stop, stop.

David: We can’t stop here, Jacqui. Protocol. There is a rule. No stops. High-ranking UNCHR personnel unescorted by security go straight to camp. It’s dangerous out here, Jacqui.

Jacqui suddenly shifts the gear to neutral, and as the jeep slows down, she jumps out, falling to the ground. She picks herself up and runs towards what seems to be a pillow on the ground. It is an abandoned baby in the last stage of malnutrition. Jacqui shoos off the flies from the baby’s eyes, carries her back to the jeep.

Jacqui: Remember, David, protocol is a man-made bullshit created by administration people who have no field experience.

David: It is still protocol. I can’t violate protocol.

Jacqui: David, why are you here?

David: To help people in need. That’s pretty obvious.

Jacqui: You better make up your mind — help people or follow stupid protocols. Because at a certain point when they contradict each other, you have to make a choice. If we did not stop, protocol would have killed this baby. One small piece of advice, David. The heart, your wanting to help people, has primacy over the mind, your wanting to obey protocol. Make sure this baby makes it. If she doesn’t, I will make sure you don’t make it.

They reach the camp. Jacqui hands the baby over to a nurse and gives instructions. A convoy of seven ten-wheeler trucks full of sacks of grain arrives, triggering a commotion among the hungry refugees.

Jacqui: Where is your security force?

David: The colonel said I don’t need one.

Jacqui: Do you realize if there is a riot, we can get killed. Get me the colonel on the phone.

She hands her cellphone to David. He calls the colonel and gives the cellphone back to Jacqui.

(To be continued)