A Comfortable Post

I arrived in Skopje, the capital of Macedonia, during the coldest winter on record. I was ill prepared and had packed only a few sweaters and a light leather jacket for temperatures that were bitingly cold and three feet of snow blanketing the ground. Because there was no snow removal equipment, the snow remained, added to with each new snowfall.

Skopje lay nestled at the base of several mountains. From the air, the red-tiled roofs and the fresh snow of the countryside combined to create an exquisite and picturesque winter village scene. Lights twinkled everywhere, which meant electricity. I was assigned a “flat,” which I shared with an American volunteer who, more often than not, spent the night with a friend, so the flat was really my own. We had electricity, heat, running water, a kitchen, all of the amenities of home. I lived within walking distance of the IRC office, so each morning I walked through the village roads to work. I came to know many of the shopkeepers and waved to them as I passed; it was an exquisitely quaint European village. I would make instant coffee each morning, and on the way to work, I would stop and get a piece of fresh warm bread from the village bakery. This would be no third world hardship post. I was living well and I knew it. It’s almost easier when I am away on mission to live in rugged deprivation. To live so well made me feel guilty.

The IRC expat team here was small: Jane, a British logistician (she managed our resources); Mitch, a British water and sanitation engineer; and Alan, another American, who ran the information and protection program for refugees and IDPs. And although there was no American Club here, there were plenty of bars and restaurants, and we made it a point to visit most of them.

But I was here to work, and that came first. I would run the health programs, which employed a staff of eighteen, including nurses, doctors, and an engineer, all of them Macedonian except for one lone Croatian nurse who was a refugee here, having fled the brutal war in her own nation. I was happy to note that every single woman here wore bright red lipstick. I knew that I would fit right in.