Chocolate

Yesterday I had two distinguished guests in my office.

One is a senior member of the Board of Directors of MSF France- a surgeon. Jean Paul has done many missions for MSF over the past 26 years and is quite the storyteller. He and I had dinner a few days ago at the seaside, and he regaled me with MSF stories of times past. One was particularly memorable.
This story was of a mission in Somalia during a very tense time. One day he conducted a life-saving surgery on a young man, a bullet in his neck. The man was a member of a rebel group, despised by the local militia. That evening Jean Paul returned to the expat house and was walking down the hallway. Two local militia broke into the house, armed, pointing guns at him. They were accusing him of saving the life of an enemy. They indicated his life was soon to be over. At that moment, one of the nurses walks out of the bathroom having just finished her shower. She had a towel wrapped around her, that’s all. She calmly looked at the militia, and spoke with a firm, but soft voice, “Excuse me sirs, firearms are not allowed in the house”. She kept walking to her room. The soldiers were stunned, they started backing up, and she said, with her back turned to them, “I mean right now boys, no guns allowed”. Jean Paul was ready to faint, the soldiers left the house with their firearms. (You never know about stories 10 years old, whether there was a little fisherman in Jean Paul, as in all of us, as we tell and retell stories….doesn’t really matter, stories are for entertainment).
The stories went on and on……..

Jean Paul worked in Abkhazia for one week some years ago conducting surgery at the Sukhumi Hospital. He came again this past week to the Caucasians to participate in the FAD (Field Associates Debates), where all MSF sites around the world, expats and nationals, gather to discuss a single topic. This years FAD topic was “closing missions“. Very apropos for the project I am working with.

The other distinguished guest was the Director of the Hospital in Sukhumi.
Jean Paul and The Director worked together many years ago here in Sukhumi, so we arranged a reunion for the two of them.
In the morning Jean Paul, translator Inga and I went to the Hospital and in usual fashion, The Director had a display of food and wine and vodka and other spirits and chocolate. In the 2 months of being here I have had 3 meetings with the Director and each time, despite my protestations, he prepares this feast - it matters not that it is 10 am and I have a full day of meaningful work ahead of me. NIET (russian for NO) does not seem to translate when it comes to being a guest in the Directors office. So, we spoke of pleasantries, then conversed about the unfortunate state of Abkhazia, the need for supplies. The Director spoke of French things in honor of Jean Paul, wine, parfume, beautiful women, to display his worldliness. (I recall on my first visit to the hospital, The Director spoke of famed American cardiac surgeon Michael Debakey. He showed me a journal 30 years old with an article Debakey had written. He was very proud to be able to speak of someone in the medical center where I trained). All in all, yesterday's visit was a pleasant two hour reunion for the distinguished guests.

THEN, The Director insisted on lunch. Jean Paul declined - for Pete’s sake, we just finished a 3 course mid-morning “snack”. But once again, it is impolite to refuse. So, off we go to a restaurant. More food, more spirits, no chocolate this time.
Yesterday, the day before Jean Paul would leave, here comes The Director again, in the afternoon, with a bottle of “champagne“, actually Abkhazian sparkling wine.

We don’t have champagne glasses in my office. There are coffee mugs. Not exactly what one would offer to two distinguished guests. So, I excuse myself, and run across the street to the expat house. I grab a few glasses.
Unlike The Director who spreads out a white table cloth, tattered, but none-the-less washed and pressed to serve the “snacks”, I had a foot stool. I guess I could have brought a white shirt that was in the laundry, but, Niet. We would have to manage with small water glasses, AND,

AND The Chocolate Bar I was saving, given to me by my friend. I was saving it for a special occasion.
This was the special occasion. Two distinguished guests, champagne, and MY CHOCOLATE THAT I WAS HIDING FROM REBELS AND MILITIA AND FELLOW EXPATS AND RATS AND EVERYONE ELSE.
I took a deep breath, silently said “Thank You” to my friend and ran back across the street with glasses and chocolate in hand.
As it turned out while I was gone the two distinguished guests placed 5 chairs in a circle so we could visit. The Head of Mission was here, along with The Board Director, The Hospital Director and me. That’s 4. There was an empty chair. No one seemed to notice. I did.

We drank all the wine and all the chocolate, I ate the last piece.

I am sure yesterday afternoon with lovely Abkhazian sparkling wine, pleasant conversation, and the heavenly chocolate from my dear friend, that in that empty chair, you were all there with me enjoying this auspicious occasion with distinguished people. I felt your presence. For a moment, while they were vying for the most interesting conversation, I was thinking of my people, my stories with each of you. I was happy.
I hoped you too enjoyed the wine and conversation.

Thanks again, dear friend for gifting me chocolate that WE ALL used for this special occasion.