The
discussion topics on offer at the summit have encompassed lengthy
soul-searching on setting-up Early
Warning Systems which can be operated as soon as the initial signs of a
disaster are imminent, so as to alert communities and other parties to prepare
for the coming danger. There have also been
detailed explanations of working with communities and various groups on Disaster Preparedness and Response, so
that they know what to do when the Early Warning System is activated, and Disaster Mitigation and Resilience,
which is all about putting things in place to limit the impact of the disaster
on people and their livelihoods.
But
as is so often the case with these high-level discussions, all the theoretical
jargon and technical know-how immediately get thrown out the window when a real
disaster hits, as I discovered this week when my world was thrown into utter
chaos by a series of unanticipated, catastrophic events.
On
the last day of the meeting I was up well before the sun, diligently preparing
for my presentation. After finalising
the materials and practicing my speech a couple of times, I ironed my shirt and
trousers, and headed off to the magnificent hotel breakfast buffet which is a
common, essential element of these kinds of global meetings, concerned as they
are with improving the lot of those with barely enough household resources to
feed their kids.
In
the Disaster Risk Reduction biz, when we talk about developing Early Warning Systems, we encourage individuals
and communities to look for any unusual events or changes in their
surroundings. Hindsight is indeed a
powerful tool for reflection, and through this I must concede that my ability
to recognise and comprehend a significant change to the breakfast buffet that
morning could well have spared me from the debilitating effects of what
followed, however I failed to recognise the significance of the bowl of small,
ripe cherry tomatoes which had replaced the more common-place, large, pre-sliced
tomatoes on offer during the previous four days.
Failing
to heed this important Early Warning
Sign, I obliviously sat down to my greasy breakfast and with the sharpened
points of my unsuspecting table fork, I pierced the shiny outer skin of a
cherry tomato, unleashing all manner of damnation and hellfire in the form of
bright, red tomato juice all over my crisp, ironed shirt - my last clean shirt
for the week – all within a few short moments of the professional and
reputational reckoning upon which my future career in international Disaster Risk
Reduction was to be built.
Within
a nanosecond of the destructive cocktail of juice and pulp being sprayed from hip
to shoulder where moments before there had been nothing but sharp, starchy
creases, I was on my feet in the middle of the public thoroughfare, absently
wiping sticky yellow seeds from my scalp and ears, while my shrinking spleen
emitted an involuntary, guttural groan which rose into the lofty chamber before
disappearing into the same, intangible locale as my future career prospects.
In
reflection, it’s quite possible that all may not have been lost at that point,
as there may have been some individuals of influence who’d not yet become aware
of the destruction my heedless actions had unleashed upon the early morning
diners, however my voluble anguish was released with little heed to the number
one rule of Disaster Response
planning, which is to Remain calm – DO
NOT PANIC!. Instead, I projected a
shrill, piercing scream like a couple of over-weight drag queens fighting over
a pair of fourteen inch, red sequinned stilettoes, attracting the full
attention of every member of the largest gathering of influential minds on
international humanitarian responses ever to have been assembled.
Realising
my mistake, I made a beeline for the door, only to slip on the organic mess I
had created on the shiny parquetry with my clumsy upturning of a breakfast bowl,
causing me to land flat on my arse and generating for those influential global
minds a close-up view of the world’s first ever edible, indoor tsunami, which
proceeded from the epicentre of my soiled behind to the far corners of the
restaurant.
Crawling
now, I lowered my head in shame and slowly reconstructed a Disaster Escape Route in my mind to guide me out the door and out
of sight. Back in my Safe House hotel room a few moments
later, I waited for my hyperventilating to subside and began analysing the
situation. I had come to Bangkok for a
reason, and I was not going to let this incident impede my Recovery to a lucrative, fat-cat position on the international
stage. I threw open my wardrobe to take
stock of my provisions, only to remember with horror that my Disaster Preparedness for this
high-level talk fest had me Stockpiling
only the required number of outfits through which to get me through five days
of looking as professional as possible, and like I knew what I was talking
about, however I had not allowed for Contingencies. Added to this, I had been schmoozing so much with the ‘Big Wigs’ each night …
until well into the messy wee hours, that all previously worn shirts were
stained with Guinness and sweaty underarms.
This
was truly an unanticipated, catastrophic disaster of career-limiting
proportions, but despite the dire circumstances in which I now found myself, I
took a couple of deep breaths, gulped down my rising panic and I resolved to
make something of this. “Hadn’t I spent
the last twenty years working hard and building my reputational Resilience?”, I reasoned, “Sure I
had. I have what it takes to impress
these people with my skills, Knowledge,
Attitude and Practice”. I impressed
upon myself that these brilliant DRR practitioners weren’t interested in how I
was dressed; they’d carved out their careers through the sweat and tears of
responding to some of the most severe humanitarian disasters in recent history:
working twenty hours a day for weeks at a time while living out of
military-type barracks with limited water and supplies. They knew what was important in this
industry, and it wasn’t the cut of a man’s Armani trousers. I was going to show them that I too was like
them; Responsive in the face of a
Disaster. I grabbed what I could
from the closet, and boldly headed for the auditorium.
The
Inaugural Global Conference on Disaster Risk Reduction is unlikely to be
remembered for anything other than the Global Head of UNDRR, demonstrating the
military precision upon which his reputation as a leader of international Disaster Responses was built, directing
the Conference Facility Security personnel to chase down and brutally apprehend
a scruffy, scab-faced maniac dressed only in a stained Singha Beer singlet, a
pair of yellowing y-fronts and army boots, who had burst into the opening
session of Day 5, shouting like a lunatic about Dyslexic Rock Renditions.
Attack
of the Career-Limiting Tomatoes: Donkey comes a cropper to a pesky fruit at a
Bangkok breakfast buffet. Pic: http://www.bigmike-productions.com
