I’ve always been restless, curious, a wanderer thirsty for unseen landscapes, a stravaiger (one who takes a long stroll). Over the years my journeys have taken me from Central Asia to the Balkans, Gaza, Burma, the Central African Republic (CAR), then Mali and, more recently, Senegal. I’ve survived bad times, including a bloody coup in Bangui, and near-fatal cerebral malaria in Senegal, rocked good times, like a sweaty rock concert in Yangon with Iron Cross, Burma’s premier rock band, and I’ve blogged about my reflections in situ.
I spent seven intense and fruitful years in central and West Africa, working with refugees, people forcibly displaced by military conflicts, and communities in environments wracked by armed violence. These days I am based in Oban on the magnificent West coast of Scotland, where I’ve found a deep, peaceful serenity, and artistic and activist communities who are welcoming and supportive.
Regarding my books, I started writing after living in Mongolia for several years, firstly in the Capital, Ulaanbaatar, the coldest capital city on earth, followed by a year in the western Mongoian mountains, in a remote village called Tsengel where I made my home in a yurt. It was bloody hard work, lonely, and, sometimes, utterly magical. My first book, Hearing Birds Fly, based on my time in the village, won the inaugural Royal Society of Literature Ondaatje Prize in 2004 for ‘the book that most evokes the spirit of a particular place’.
I used much of the prize money to research my second book, Selling Olga, an investigation into human trafficking across Europe, that was published in 2006. By then I was living in Edinburgh. I worked in a Rape Crisis Centre and as a mental health outreach worker and was very happy. But when I met the Palestinian writer Raja Shehadeh, he suggested I could work in the Palestinian West Bank. So I did. From the city of Ramallah, I moved to Gaza City and worked with the inspiring Palestinian Centre for Human Rights. Palestinian human rights centre. I studied Arabic, and made friends for life with Gazans from different backgrounds, many of whom I am still in touch with. My third book, Meet Me in Gaza, tells stories of ordinary life inside Gaza rarely published in the press: beach life, salty jokes, visits to the ancient Hammam, the fabulous lingerie market, the vivid textures of daily life inside the Strip. And the turbulent, violent, poignant history of Gaza herself, one of the oldest continually inhabited cities on earth. This feels especially poignant now, with the continuing relentless slaughter of Palestinians across the Strip by the Israeli government of Benjamin Netanyahu.
I left Gaza in 2009, exhausted and needing some rest. I returned to Scotland for a few years, traveling to the far North and the Outer Hebrides, where the light is sublime and I could relish being a stravaiger once more. Then, inspired by the work of War Child, I travelled to the Central African Republic (CAR) in the summer of 2013, just a few months after the country was throttled by a takeover from the Seleka, a militant alliance including Chadian mercenaries that seized control of CAR. I spent 6 months based in the riverside capital, Bangui, traveling across much of the country by motorbike (or with monks, nuns and NGO workers) investigating the humanitarian situation. Living and traveling in CAR was intense, exhausting, and life-affirming. When I finally ran out of money and was forced to return to Tory infested, rain-soaked England, I immediately searched for a job back in Bangui.
A few months later, I was offered a position with a wonderful, creative peacebuilding NGO, Conciliation Resources as their Central African Republic (CAR) project manager. I returned to Bangui for two years, to manage a national peace-building project. I love peace-building because it is not about distributing cash or food, but personal, communal and national transformation from the inside. It is essentially the laying of radical foundations for trust, regeneration and reclaiming of space on all levels.
When the project in CAR eventually came to an end, I took a few months off, to re-assess my life, refreshing my Arabic in Lebanon, and volunteering on the Greek isle of Samos in a camp for refugees from Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria and other violated countries. I cannot speak highly enough of Samos Volunteers, entirely run by unpaid volunteers, with a capacity to respond quickly and effectively that puts many major International organisations to shame.
I was then recruited to manage a peacebuilding program in Mali, and moved to Bamako: home to lilting music and other cultural richnesses, spicy rice, appalling traffic, papayas, watermelons and a political landscape so complex I had to stay for two years just to figure it out! My work included supporting communities in Timbuktu. I was able to see the fabled Ahmed Baba Institute, where sacred manuscripts are still stored, and the small city centre that has somehow endured its rapacious history, and cultivated its own mythology. Mali is a fierce country with many problems, including many competing and questionable international agendas fixated on jihadis and counter-terrorism. I eventually left Bamako, pessimistic about its future, and determined to continue working in building peace in different forms and contexts.
Since then, I have spent some time working in Senegal, and now find myself ‘at home’ back in Scotland. I write this blog based on my personal experiences and insights, plus other vignettes that move, outrage or amuse me. I love my life in all its flowing, messy and unpredictable beauty. I am currently working from home, and have begun a new book. as you probably are. Except that right now I am in a small cabin in the Hebrides, perched on the southern edge of a sunlit, windswept island, where yesterday I swam in a clear cool sea and picked fresh seaweed for my dinner!
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