A recent announcement that the UK Foreign office and DFID are to merge will hopefully offer better value for money for the British tax payer.
As a trailing expat spouse, opportunities to work locally in Africa are dependent on procuring a costly work permit, however there is a loophole, work at an embassy in a ‘local hire’ role and you are officially on home turf. Here is the account of a typical day at work through the eyes of a fictionalised ‘Liz’. (Dar es Salaam, Tanzania 1999)
The Accommodation Officer
“My back-up generator is out of fuel and we are hosting a dinner tonight, so if you could arrange for a driver to deliver diesel and a spare canister of cooking gas to our house, then my wife would be very grateful.”
First phone call of the day and accommodation officer Liz rolls her eyes. A feeling of dread washes over her every time the phone on her desk rings. Since taking up a local hire position at the Department For International Development arm of the embassy, she’s rued the day she agreed to a low salary in return for a deal of stress. General dogsbody to a host of demanding expatriate staff was not in the job description. On the upside, her Swahili is coming along swimmingly, as the rest of the admin staff she shares an office with are friendly, but speak little English.
“I wish I had a back-up generator at my house,” Liz mutters. “When the electricity goes out for me, it’s candles and sweat. If only I’d married a diplomat.”
The best homes in Dar es Salaam run air-conditioning all year round with the help of back-up generators, as power outages are common. Since the cost of electricity is astronomical, normal homes might run a single a/c unit in the bedroom. Last week, Liz was staggered to discover the British High Commissioner’s house features fitted carpets and silent air-conditioning units throughout; even in the kitchen!
After putting down the phone, Liz works through a terrifyingly large pile of invoices submitted by local suppliers and contractors. Services that require payment include; mosquito net fabrication, water delivery, electricians, plumbing services, air conditioning fixing, fumigation services and furniture procurement. The list is endless. Embassy contracts are lucrative business for local suppliers and Liz has been offered many an unwarranted ‘free’ gift or lunch invitation from various characters around town.
Once invoices have been checked and forwarded to a very swamped Deborah in accounts, Liz works through a slew of email correspondence from in-country consultants, who are mostly unhappy with their lot.
“The Philips have a swimming pool, so can we have a lawnmower?”
“I heard that the Smiths got a gas barbecue as part of their furniture pack, so can we have one?”
DFID is expected to foot the bill for all furnishings during this period of fast expansion in the department and everything is new. As DFID breaks ties with the FCO, there is little order and not much of a system in place, so it seems that the sky is the limit to the consultants’ requests.
“The Barrows have a roll top desk on their furniture list. I’d like to order one, then buy it from DFID for a fraction of the price when I leave the posting?” Asks Johnny.
A recent business class flights embargo on short haul flights announced by head office has ruffled feathers amongst expats on the upper floors. The phone rings again.
“It’s a four hour flight, so I assume that you will be booking me a business class seat?” Mr MacDonald asks.
“I am very sorry but we are no longer allowed to book business class for anyone on short haul.” I say politely, “this is also a question you should be asking Saidi, as he’s managing all the travel arrangements now.” Liz says in the politest way possible.
“Well if you could do your best to get me upgraded then I would be very grateful.” MacDonald says before adding, “I have important meetings to attend and won’t be able to do my job properly after sitting, squashed in economy.”
Liz daydreams about what a business class flight might be like. Champagne and a business class lounge perhaps?
“Saidi, if you wouldn’t mind doing your best?” Liz passes the task to her colleague who is still adjusting to his new role.
“Ah, MacDonald?” He sighs, good naturedly. “Looking for an upgrade again?”
Managing expectations of families set to arrive from the UK is always tough and the first six months ‘in station’ generally proves to be the most demanding for Liz. The most pleasant of spouses turn out to be monsters when faced with their first water stoppage, power outage, upset stomach or unrelenting heat wave.
Twenty-five year old development specialist Claire recently arrived in East Africa with her ‘partner’ Nick (they’ve been dating for three months). Although Nick is entitled to accompany Claire according to new diplomatic guidance, their non-marital status caused havoc when applying for residents status in a conservative East African country where marriage certificates count for a lot. Still on a tourist visa, Claire’s boyfriend Nick is more than happy to sit in their shared apartment, playing guitar courtesy of the British taxpayer, if only he didn’t keep sending those maddening emails about finding a housekeeper. They are still in their honeymoon phase, having just got back from their first ‘breather visit’ to Zanzibar, a mini-break that consultants are entitled to every three month in a ‘hardship’ posting.
At around 11am, Mrs Bahati arrives with Tiffin tins filled with greasy samosas and potato bajias. A welcome distraction. As Liz jumps up to part with scruffy shilling notes in return for her spicy snack, a receptionist informs her that there are three suppliers waiting to collect their cheques. Uniformed embassy drivers hang around the water cooler gossiping and laughing in their own language. They have seen a lot over the years and relish sharing a good story. On return to her desk, Liz’s phone rings again. Her heart sinks.
“Hi Liz, how are you? I’m in need of some charcoal for a barbecue this weekend and was wondering if you could help?” Louanna says charmingly.
“You know you can buy it at the local supermarket?” Liz replies, a little tightly. “Or you can even find it at the side of the road.”
“Oh, I see,” Louanna gets the message and hangs up curtly.
DFID housing is rented from local landlords (since the High Commission has sold off its properties overseas) and due to a shortage of quality houses, local owners can happily demand up to two year’s rent in advance. A precedent set by embassy, UN and World Bank clients that dominate the top end of the market in such a ‘hot’ developing economy. However, standard of housing varies wildly, as does attitude of landlords once a fat cheque has landed in their bank account. New ’embassy’ houses are now popping up on the peninsular everywhere.
Next on the agenda, a house visit is booked to see Mr and Mrs Parson’s home. Mr Parsons would like DFID to foot the bill for a garage conversion he’s planned to make space for an additional bedroom.
“The landlord is very happy for organise the work, as long as we pay.” Mr Parsons says, meaning the DFID mission.
“But isn’t your three year contract almost up?” Liz asks innocently.
“Well, it turns out that we like it here, so we’re hoping for an extension.” Mr Parsons says. “Anyway, it would be great if you could just ask.”
Liz takes her leave with an I’ll see what I can do…making a mental note to ask her boss about Mr Parsons plans and wondering how many ways there are to say ‘no’ in one day.
“God save me,” Liz says to herself in the car on the way home, while looking out over a palm lined Indian Ocean. “There must be a better way to earn a living?”
Africa Expat Wives Club 