Why aren't I singing?

For something that used to be so important to me, to fulfil and enrich me so completely, how is it now that I sing so rarely, that it's not only on the back burner but that I let the burner go out?

When did the balance of work and singing become so badly weighted?

Ok let's look at the balance, but let's take the heaviest bit first - my work.

I should start by saying really clearly and loudly, to avoid any suspicion of this turning into just another whinging blog, that:

I
love
my
work

For the last six years, give or take, I've been working for high profile international charities, responding to humanitarian crises, travelling the world and hopefully leaving most things slightly better than the state in which I found them.

That sounds nice and dramatic doesn't it? Perhaps in your head you've conjured an image of a caped crusader with some sort of theme tune? The truth is far less glamorous I'm afraid. In reality, we're not all 'saving the world', 'making a difference' or any of the other straplines you've cringed at over the years.

We're a bunch of almost normal people doing relatively boring jobs in, ok I'll concede, often highly interesting places (which my sister tends to group together as 'far, far, away').

As much as I may joke, and lighten every entry with (attempted) humour here, I want to start honestly and tell you that we see terrible things. We see loss, death, destruction, pain, senseless actions, abject poverty.

We see horror and we see beauty, sometimes on the same day.

I used to say that I've seen some of the most amazing countries at their worst times. You know those days when you wake up and you look and feel just completely awful? The days you just want to go back to bed, or cover it all up with makeup and coffee? Well I've seen countries having days like that. You see a snapshot that doesn't do them justice. All I can do is try to leave my judgement to the next trip, the next time I go there and things are better. Can you imagine if someone judged you only by your worst day, your worst decision, your ugliest moment? They wouldn't know you at all. In that same way, I don't think I can say that I 'know' some of these countries, but what I can say categorically is that it was never all bad. On your worst week you could still find something to make you smile or give you encouragement, or at the very least to make you laugh.

I don't know who came up with it but there is a classification system for NGO workers which actually seems to work pretty well...Loosely speaking we all fall into one of three categories (sometimes changing from one to the other if we get any kind of self awareness!):

1) the missionaries - sorry, nothing exciting and sexual here, just the plain old group who want to "save the world". Stereotypical feature: smile a lot; Uniform: a lot of hemp, itchy natural fabrics, maybe some braids and brown sandals essential; Catchphrase: "Oh gosh, how can we help them?"

2) the mercenaries - an interesting group, who tend to think they can tell the world how it needs to change, often at quite a loud volume and with a vein or two popping on their forehead. Stereotypical feature: possibly perhaps might just have worked in the armed forces at one time (shocker, I know); Uniform: there'll be combats or something with many pockets, bound to be a leatherman knife to hand at all times and an improbably small notebook. Catchphrase: "Let's move it! Come on!"

3) the misfits - essentially this group is also known as 'the rest of us'...from the extreme of people you meet who genuinely would have problems fitting into a mainstream functioning society to those who are running, though can't remember whether it's away from something or towards something else. Stereotypical feature: bit disorganised but passionate in a non-scary way; Uniform: un-ironed shirts (maximum 5), jeans they've had for a few too many years and a gadget or two they can't live without (ipod, camera, the 'next best speakers to come out of japan'); Catchphrase: "gin and tonic anyone?"

Ok, so I'm mainly joking you think to yourself, or exaggerating at the very least. But the frightening thing is that, if anything, I'm understating it! I could reel off tens of examples of each, and was probably, at various points, in each of the three myself.

Leaving things better than we found them...

Leaving does seem to be a theme of this work, perhaps it suited me for a while but I'm finding it harder these days. I've said so many goodbyes - to jobs, colleagues, projects, friends, communities, whole countries. The goodbyes seem to stick in my head more poignantly than the hellos.

I remember last year in Papua New Guinea, I was attending a handing over ceremony with a community we'd helped after a cyclone. We'd supported them in their recovery, helping with new water tanks, wells, small steps so they could recover quickly and be more resilient, we hope, next time around.

I'd been in PNG for about six months and was getting fairly good pidgeon English, even learning some of the provincial dialect, but as I was stood on the beach, adorned in beautiful necklaces and humbled by their strength, their generosity and bottomless hospitality, a few ladies took my hands and said a few words I didn't recognise. I asked them what it meant and they said "It means goodbye, you can go now, your work is finished." We embraced and I cried a bit, not big girly weeping tears but more than I could pass off as just the sun in my eyes. Of course, it was great, your absolute dream to hear a community tell you that your work is finished, that they don't need you any more, this is what you aim for in every project in it's simplest terms, but it also leaves you feeling...I don't know, hollow? Unsettled? I don't know what's the right word.

But I do know I don't like the goodbyes. I've had too many of them.