Sleepless night—tossing and turning and dreaming bizarre things. I’d like to blame it on the anti-malarials, but I know it was just nerves. The sound of what I can only imagine are giant frogs harmonized by the ever running toilet gave way to an array of bird sounds at sunrise that made me feel like I was on vacation in the tropics (am I??). None of this could lull me to sleep or still my mind. I realized in the middle of the night, as a headache ravaged any final chances of sleep, that I forgot all of my over-the-counter meds. I don’t remember packing them, and they’re not in my suitcases. I knew this trip had gone too smoothly until now. No advil, no Claritin, no immodium. Oh goodness…it’s only day two.
I didn’t want to get up from my bed, mostly because I still had faith that I’d fall asleep, and partially because I didn’t want to wake my roommate. Promptly at 6:20 I jumped up, brushed my teeth, tied up my mosquito net and got ready. If you really know me, you’ll know that in general I’m zombie in the morning, but I was sooooo pumped up on anticipatory adrenaline that I actually had time to do reading before breakfast. And thus the day began…
Why such an important day, you wonder? Well, today is the day that two years of stalking government officials and writing and rewriting agreements and pleading with people to meet with us finally comes to an official end– in theory. An end marked by signatures of people far too important to ever talk to me in real life, but necessary in the pursuit of this data.
We arrived at the satellite ministry office this morning, confident that we’d have the document in hand. Only 3 signatures left to go. Our driver dropped us at the door and despite my professor’s insistence that we’ll be fine and he can come back in two hours, he informs us that he’ll wait just around the corner. Sure enough, a text message arrived telling us that our first meeting of the day was not going to happen. He didn’t know we were coming (despite the numerous emails). The secretary informs us that he’s only leave until Wednesday, but somewhere in the city. My professor, seriously at her wits end, got really stern with him on the phone and began dropping names until finally he relented and agreed to meet us. I’ll reference here my blog post from two years ago, where we all met by a poolside for tea at a sketchy hotel to hash out the details of this agreement. Here we are again, at a random hotel (changed already this morning from another hotel), waiting. Two men arrived, looking official-like with their shiny suits. Not him. My professor jokes that perhaps they’re here for his “other” meeting—which was only funny til it turned out to be true. Signatory 1 made just a little fuss, to which we only smiled, nodded, and insisted that this was the final version. He jotted down an intricate series of loops and scribbles (apparently his name, though I’m not convinced), all while ignoring us and talking on the phone. Whatever. At this point politeness isn’t part of the deal. Then we’re informed that after we collect the next signatures, we’ll have to return to this seemingly clandestine location at which point he’ll call a guy (whose name he was reluctant to reveal) and we’ll all meet again to discuss the data transfer. Sounds like the stuff movies are made of. But it’s real, and it’s happening right now. Inside, my brain is processing like a child: frowny face! Stomping feet! Our driver innocently threatens to have “words” with the signatory after our meeting. We giggle, but secretly wish it could happen…a little part of me does, anyway.
So, here we are. Squatting in the ministry lobby. Well, let me back that up for a moment. We arrived at the ministry and took one of the only elevators in the country to the very top floor. On the way up, I got pushed to the back, with my enormous back pack full of computer stuff in case I actually get the data today and they don’t let it leave the building (it could happen!). My professor couldn’t see the button, and told me to just request of the other passengers whatever the highest number was. I asked, “eh hem. SEVEN, Please!” Silence. “hmph hem!” Silence. Not even a turn of the head. So, I molested two passengers as I squeezed my body and my giant bag past them, tipped one over, and pushed seven. No words, no emotion. It’s like I didn’t just push everyone out of the way to get that button. My professor lost it in giggle fits as we slowly made our way to the floor. It’s just one of those days. Entirely visible (how can you miss us?) and seemingly invisible (your name again, please?).
It’s only 10 am. We’ve got one signature. One more important one to go, one official phone call, one official meeting, one official form, and most likely another signature. So close, and yet so far away.
Brief update: It didn’t happen. The day closed with lots of visiting various projects, and lots of shopping– all while waiting for that phone call that the minister will see us, or that the document has been signed. I’m tired, but hopeful that the promises by the ministry of a final signature tomorrow will come true! And then we track down the people who keep the data…
Wow. Just, wow. I can't even imagine! And I know you two have been working on getting access to this data for years. So many possible reasons why they make it so hard, some understandable, some not so much. But still. How exciting and infuriating all at once! And I can just picture you and J money giggling like crazy in that elevator. I love when moments like that turn into hilarious other-worldly moments of ridiculousness. Keep on keepin' on!!!!