Well, so much for recovering from jet lag

I can’t sleep. It’s – actually, I have no idea what time it is. For years now I’ve had this goofy rule where, once it gets past 11.30 or midnight wherever I am, I won’t look at a clock. I even turn my alarm clock away from me as I’m climbing in to bed every night just on the chance that at some point I’ll roll over and accidentally catch a glimpse of some ungodly hour flashing. I used to do that thing where I’d lie there twitching, my breath coming in long, determined sighs, calculating the hours I’d get if I fell asleep rightnow. But now, I don’t want to know how much sleep it is I’m not getting. I just want to pretend it’s as much as I need. I’m very serious about this. And very disciplined. So disciplined that even tho’ that little blinking digital clock in the bottom right-hand corner of my computer’s sys tray is rightnowatthisveryminute taunting me, daring me to take a peek, I am not looking at it. It could be 2.30 in the morning; it could be 4 - I have no idea.

I’m anxious, obviously. (Duh.) We went to the CRS (Catholic Relief Services) headquarters today so that I could meet some of the other folks with whom Chris and Amy and the rest of the IHV team work. They all knew who I was before I was even introduced. “Ah! Yes! You are Kay-tee,” they say, smiling warmly, shaking my hand with both of theirs. “You are Chris’s sister! We have been waiting for you.”

Waiting for me? No, that can’t be right. And yet it is. Seems word of my data analysis/database development experience has gotten around and not only does Chilonga have a job for me, but so does Mukinge. (They think they want me to build them a database. From scratch. In two weeks.) And after I come back, Herbie (the Chief of I-Forget-What-His-Title-Is-But-He’s-the-Big-Boss-In-Charge-of-Everyone-at-CRS) already has a plan for me. “You will go to Chilonga and then to Mukinge with Chris and Amy and then, after that,” he says authoritatively, “you will separate from them probably, yes? And you will help us with the monitoring and evaluations?” He smiles then. I think he must be laughing. I think it’s the look of abject terror on my face he finds so funny. “Yes. After that, you will separate from them and work here, maybe?”

Monitoring and evaluations (or M&E) is essentially the same as QA/QI work, or program evaluation, which (as I understand it) is measuring the efficacy or success of a program by analyzing data. It’s basically statistics. I sort of kind of have a limited, self-taught (read: huge-gaping-holes-in-my-knowledge-base) understanding of statistics from my time at the CU Foundation. Which, in Africa, of course means I’m an expert on the subject.

So that gnawing ache in my belly that’s keeping me from sleep tonight? Well, maybe it’s hunger (although I just went and made myself a sandwich which I think violates all the rules for overcoming jetlag because I probably – remember, I don’t look at the clock – was feeding myself right around East Coast dinner time), but I have a sneaking suspicion it’s this sudden fear of meeting the expectations that have been set for me. What if I’ve somehow misrepresented myself and the skills I have to offer? What if I can’t do what they’ve asked me? What if I not only can’t help them where they most need help but end up slowing down their work? What if, what if, what if…

I don’t know. And now I’m too tired to think much more about it. And it’s light outside now, which means it was probably closer to 4am when I started this than it was to 2. So I probably should try to get some sleep.