I’m sat staring at a laptop, fingers poised, frozen in a trance of helplessness and despair. I have approximately 30 minutes to write a short essay on the challenges facing the trucks used by aid workers in a location of my choice and how they are overcome. Or rather, the youngest has. But he’s got his head on the table and is blubbing quietly to himself. The Britain’s Got Talent Live Final is on in half an hour and he wants to watch it. Live. Far more than he wants to write about overcoming the challenges facing the trucks used by aid workers in a location of his choice.
As someone used to tackling the absurdities of government tenders, I’m no stranger to answering seemingly unanswerable questions to impossible deadlines. But nothing comes close to this. You see, this is not something I was ever expecting I’d need to know about. Let alone write a short essay on, with pictures, in time for the Live Final of Britain’s Got Talent.
I know nothing about delivering humanitarian support, but suspect it’s complicated. A quick glimpse at Wikipedia has confirmed that suspicion. There’s a million acronyms, and place names I don’t recognise, and absolutely no mention of trucks. Or the challenges they need to overcome and how they overcome them.
The youngest slips off his chair and rolls over on the floor, groaning. I don’t think he’s going to be much use. We’ve got 26 minutes.
I always thought that the internet had a website about everything. Which is why it’s so big and stupid. But, it turns out it hasn’t got one on the challenges facing trucks used by aid workers and how they are overcome - in any location, never mind one of our choice.
And then…oh dear, suddenly I find an angle. An aid convoy bombed in September 2016. Twenty aid workers killed. At last I have an in: one of the challenges facing trucks used by aid workers in Syria is being bombed. By Russian planes, obviously. But not sure how you overcome that… Perhaps its about knowing when not to be in a location of our choice. Tricky.
"Dad, what shall I write…?" the child whimpers.
I don’t know what to say or, for that matter, whether I should be the one saying it. It’s that age-old homework dilemma: how much should I do, and how much should he do? Is my role simply to facilitate, i.e. bully and cajole until he does it himself, or lead by example, i.e. do it for him and let him watch? There’s a theory that if you give a bunch of monkeys violins and leave them long enough they’ll come up with Beethoven’s Fifth. But I fear the same does not apply to 12 year olds and reports on the challenges facing the trucks used by aid workers in a location of our choice and how they’re overcome. Certainly not in the 21 minutes between now and the start of the Live Final of Britain’s got Talent anyway. This one’s down to me...
I shut the laptop, sit back and take a few deep breaths. Okay, let’s think logically about this. Surely I’ve been around long enough to be able to figure this out. And anyway, what’s his teacher likely to know about the challenges facing the risks used by aid workers in a location of our choice and how they are overcome. Time to improvise.
"Okay, let’s write this thing."
The youngest prizes himself off the carpet and assumes position at the keyboard. I shift my mental viewpoint to that of a 12 year old and begin to dictate. The child’s fingers fumble clumsily over the keyboard, but in the name of authenticity I must ignore the typos and punctuation errors. Within minutes we have the semblance of an opening paragraph. We’re in Syria, and have name-checked two obscure NGOs to show we know what we’re talking about. We’ve also set the scene by establishing that when it comes to delivering humanitarian relief, people often use trucks, arranged into something called a convoy.
So onto the challenges. I hazard a guess that the roads in Aleppo are not that good: point number one - the trucks need big wheels. Good. And that there are probably not that many petrol stations: point two - they need to carry a lot of fuel. And spares. This is actually quite easy when you think about it. Hardly rocket science. And it’s quite warm out there, so it would be nice to be able to take the top down: point three - convertible trucks preferred...
I remind him that as a middle aged human I represent the most advanced form of life the planet has ever known; old enough to pass on my wisdom to younger generations, while young enough to teach them to swim and hunt.
T minus 10 minutes.
We continue: there’ll be the risk of landmines so the trucks have to drive widely spaced out. I’ve seen army Land Rovers doing this on the M1 so I know it’s true. And there’ll be lots of people wanting to stop them so they’ll need interpreters and people who can get on with the locals…
"Dad, I think that’s enough. Let’s just put some big pictures in. Britain’s Got Talent's on."
Sit down, my son, for our work is not yet done. It’s time for the big set piece: the bombing. A terrible and tragic illustration of the enormity of the risk countless souls take to help others less fortunate than themselves. A stark reminder of the futility of their meagre defences against the merciless cross fire raging between the world’s mightiest military powers...
"Dad, would I write this?"
"You are writing this."
"No, you are. I wouldn’t write this."
"What would you write then?"
"Something about the trucks. That’s what the question’s asking for."
"Look son, who is in charge here?!"
"Me, it’s my homework."
"So why aren’t you doing it?"
"Because you are!"
My wife seems to have sensed one of her brood is in danger and appears to join in the attack:
"Jes, you’re over thinking it. Let him write what he wants - nobody’ll read it anyway."
She’s a teacher and has insider knowledge on such things.
"They’d better read it. It’s brilliant."
"You don’t get it do you."
No, I don’t. Unfortunately we’re not talking about trucks any more. It’s the challenges facing Daddy and how they’re overcome. Because Daddy doesn’t get that not everything that needs doing, needs doing by him. And that doing is often the easy way out. What takes real courage is letting things happen, the way they should. Mummy does and, as if to prove the point, gives the youngest a quick cuddle:
"Come on darling, we’ll finish off tomorrow. Let’s go and watch Britain’s Got Talent."
They leave, but I’m too deep into this. Britain certainly has got talent, and some of it is the talent I’ve got for expounding the challenges facing the trucks used by aid workers in a location of our choice and how they are overcome. This is groundbreaking stuff and I have to see it through. There are NGO’s all over the world who will be crying out for a look at this document. We’re not just writing a short essay on the challenges facing the trucks used by aid workers in a location of our choice and how they’re overcome, we’re creating the Definitive Guide...
"You guys go, I’ll finish it off."
"Jes, leave it. It’s his homework."
Mine now.
@jesoverthinksit
@jesoverthinksit
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