I just got this blog entry from my fiancé, Nick Talarico, who has been performing management duties in one of our camps for the past three weeks (Yes, my fiancé and I work together, he as Operations Director and me as Executive Director - I’ll have to write about that someday).   

Anyway, I think it’s a pretty powerful entry.  He talks about what has been the toughest lesson for both of us to accept: that in order to run a complex international NGO effectively, you constantly have to make difficult decisions, hold people to high standards, and, often, tell people what they don’t want to hear.  Someday, I'll write a blog about about my personal struggles with these challenges.  But for now, Nick says it best:   

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It had been a crazy couple of weeks in Meheba Refugee Settlement.  Sleeping minimally, I had been working ceaselessly with a documentarian, meeting with camp officials trying to explain that FORGE doesn't have the funds (or the mission) to fix roads, formally terminating our relationship with a staff member due to a conduct violation, beginning the final phase of each FORGE project's handover to refugee staff and the community, having individual meetings with each of our nearly 50 refugee staff members… the list goes on considerably.

But at 5:30 on Friday morning, I crawled into our vehicle and departed Meheba with the moon still glowing.   The bumpy road held my concentration for about two hours until I reached the town of Solwezi.  Leaving Solwezi, though, I found my chest tightening and my brow furrowing.   I was sad and I didn't know why.  Without warning, I broke into tears.

I think my emotions were the result of 18 days spent on high-alert, followed by a few hours sleep and a lonely car ride.   The sudden solitude and the separation from work caused a heavy letdown and there was little left to do but cry.

The main question I kept asking myself (other than "Why are you crying?") was why is it so necessary to be hard-lined and unwavering in policy, structure, and mission in order to create sustainable, positive social change?   With a domestic and refugee staff that genuinely cares about their work, why do I always have to be the one reminding them that the path of least resistance isn't always the best path in the long run?  In a word, why can't it feel good to do good?

FORGE is complicated.  We balance the needs and the relationships associated with UNHCR, African governments, domestic volunteers, donors, and of course, refugees.   Everyone has desires and ideas and invariably, someone will be let down.  For Kjerstin and me and many of our longer-tenured staff, this becomes a constant balancing act of moving money, shifting resources, explaining policies, and changing minds.  While all of this moves toward FORGE's higher mission, it involves a lot of saying no, disappointing people, and insisting that things be done in a less-comfortable but more-sustainable way.

While these are all cliché thoughts and ideas arrived upon with tears in my eyes, I've become accustomed to the fact that disappointing people is an inherent part of serving people.  And sometimes, it's sad.

- Nick Talarico, Operations Director, FORGE

www.FORGEnow.org