Typical Day

I brought a 110 volt alarm clock with me, valueless of course: everything here is 220. Doesn’t matter though. I haven’t needed one. I get to sleep most nights by 9 pm, and I wake up around 5:15. Maybe 2 nights per week I get to sleep by 8, which means I wake up to the 4 AM edition of the muezzin as they call the faithful to prayer in the Pioneer Camp mosques. This ancient tradition was pretty otherworldly the first few times I heard it, especially just coming out of a sound sleep. The Koranic verses are sung all wobbly-voiced like in the movies. This first of five adhans of the day is an alarm clock for about 5 thousand Muslims on this project. The Hawk (Yemeni civil engineering company) camp and the PetroJet (Egyptian pressure vessel firm) are near enough that I can now recognize one from the other. It is actually pretty cool to lie and listen to ululating muezzins in the still of the early morning air before the construction noise begins.

I shower, dress and head to breakfast at the European canteen. The food is fair, a French firm runs the kitchen. Fruit, granola, yogurt, croissants. They try to do hot stuff, but it is awful. Hot dogs in lieu of sausage. Macaroni and ham with béchamel sauce. (the European canteen gets ham and bacon, but it is otherwise pretty much forbidden - and unwanted - in the other canteens). There is a reason the French stick to Continental breakfast.

Typically I meet one of my direct reports after breakfast and we drive to the office about a mile away from the camps. There are two Toyota trucks to use among my four-person team, and it works out pretty well.

I am the ranking environmental engineer on this project. I have two HVEs and two Yemenis that work directly for me, and each of the 14 Subcontractors have environmental staff that more or less report to me.

The major responsibilities assigned to me are: keeping the corals alive; oversight of a marginally performing, extended aeration sewer treatment plant; waste management via a combination of incineration and off-site recycling; oversight of the Reverse Osmosis units (ie, potable water). Other assigned areas of responsibility include camp and work place inspections. This includes hygiene inspections of the Subcontractor dining halls, kitchens, billets, ablutions. No, these are not terms I used much in Austin. Ablutions are places to wash up before going to bang one’s head on the ground in deference to the higher being.

In this connection I have to make a sidebar comment – some of the Muslims wear their religion on their sleeve, so to speak. Actually they wear it on their forehead – these guys favor asphalt for prayer, and they clang their heads on the pavement hard enough that it develops a blackened callous. You can see these guys walking around with blackened circles on their foreheads. Lots of the Egyptians do this, but I’m not sure it is restricted to them.

Anyway, a typical day for me is today – Nov 28, 2007. I started the day resolving an argument between a Subcontractor camp boss and my Yemeni inspector, who had given him a low score on a kitchen inspection. The kitchen inspections are pretty important – the word I get from our Yemgas doctor is that a salmonella outbreak would suspend the project for several weeks. Anyway, a low score on a kitchen inspection is serious business for a HVE camp manager, in this case a Turk, who looks at his relatively high salary as a godsend, not to be trifled with, especially by a Yemeni inspector.

Dispute resolved, I wrote up a couple of incident reports, which require a root cause analysis, and corrective actions to be implemented. One involved a tug boat that drove over a silt curtain which protects one of the very sensitive coral reefs (this was Muhibbah, a Malaysian firm). Another incident was Punj Lloyd, an Indian utilities firm, who bulldozed into a concrete septic tank causing the release of 5000 liters of raw sewage, which flowed downhill and pooled in a laydown yard of utility pipes.

I spent most of the afternoon coordinating over long distance with a French firm that is coming onsite next week to provide Marine Large Spill training. They will train some of the shorefront and barge personnel how to contain a large spill using huge oil booms that are towed into place with a tug boat, and oil skimmers that ride over the surface sucking up the petro. The training will actually simulate a spill using a drum of hydraulic oil that will be dumped into the ocean (under controlled conditions, hopefully).

No question this is the most responsible, and most accountable position I have held in my professional career. It has pros and cons, of course. There is absolutely zero QA/QC of the decisions I make, no one has time or expertise to do it. When things go right, it is an exhilarating feeling to see my projects come to fruition. On the other hand, I imagine that bad decisions will result in spectacular flame outs, with little compassion from management. I haven’t seen this yet, and don’t plan to.

Blue Lagoon

I have never seen clearer, bluer water. This is the backside of the facility, which, unfortunately, is about to go under construction of a cooling water outfall structure. Corals are on the far side of the silt curtain, the floats of which can be seen at the interface of the two blue colors. I have made it a matter of personal comittment to protect this area; it really is much prettier than what you can see in the photo. The two shades of blue are awesome. The sand is like sugar.

Arabian Sea Overlook

Me and Khalid. Everyone should have a bodyguard.

The road to Al Mukulla

My protector. None of the expats can travel outside of the compound without an armed guard. This photo was taken during a day trip to Al Mukulla to audit a waste recycler's operations.

Yemeni Grrrirls

This is typical. You don't see many women out and around, but the few that you do see look exactly like this.

This is downtown Mukulla.

Seashore between Balhaf and Al Mukulla

This is a very typical view of the south coast of Yemen (except for the white guy in the foreground). Mostly sandy beaches with turquoise water. The air quality here is quite good - certainly there is no manmade air pollution. But all of the features in the distance - mountains, islands, etc - all have a mirageish appearance. The island in the background looks in real life just like it appears in this photo, as if looking through a filter.

Eid al Fitr (End of Ramadan)

I arrived at Balhaf on October 13, just after Ramadan. The Muslim population, about 75% of the labor force, was in recovery mode following a month of fasting and white-knuckled spirituality. As a consequence, nothing much was accomplished by way of my in-processing, setting up a place to work or computer access during the 3 days of feast and festivity of the Eid al Fitr. The Yemgas management goes out of its way to accommodate the religious needs of the Muslims, in part because the Yemeni government, a 20% owner, requires it. But also because the uneducated Muslims - which is to say most of them - are already a bit freaked out about working for the infidels.

There are makeshift mosques that Yemgas has set up all over the plant, consisting of simple concrete block rooms, facing Mecca of course, which is about 400 miles to the north. The mosques all have an associated ablution hut, equipped with toilets and sinks for washing up in preparation for prayer. They heed the muezzins’ calls to prayer five times daily, two or three of which are during work hours. It takes a block of time out of the day, but they are fully compensated. The subcontractors do their best to downplay these work absences to the Chinese, Korean and Indian laborers, who don’t get these breaks, but of course it is impossible for them not to notice.

Yemen is among the most regressive of all the Muslim countries: they rank high in the usual categories – tribal mentality, xenophobia, repression of education and women, melding of church and state. The Yemenis have earned a reputation as reactionary, true believers. The USS Cole was bombed at Aden, about 300 km down the beach. The 9-11 hijackers were well represented by Yemeni zealots. The bin Laden clan has their ancestral roots here, and the family construction business has its way with government contracts for infrastructure, at least in areas where the concept of infrastructure has meaning.

The Governorate of Sabwa, where Balhaf is located, is populated very sparsely by tribal groups. There have been several strikes in these parts against western targets in the recent past, although, in some cases it is less an aggression against the west than it is against the local and national government. Yesterday there was a pipeline explosion in Marib, north of here, brought about by tribesmen who are known to be discontented with the level of spending the provincial government dedicates to infrastructure improvements. This is fairly common in the backwater areas, where tribal government competes with conventional government as the dominant political presence. In order to force spending on public works, they blow something up, or, more successfully, they kidnap a westerner and the government pays a ransom for their release (the Yemen government is keen to minimize bad press in order to encourage foreign investment in projects like YLNG.) The tribes have found that this approach can work: in several cases the ransom money has been used to pay for roads and schools.

On March 26, 2007, there was a riot at YLNG. The word got out to the labor force that one of the managers had desecrated a Koran, by touching it, or throwing on the floor – we will never know the true story. With each retelling of the story in the workplace, the description of the desecration got worse. Thus incensed, an angry mob formed. They moved to the fire station and disabled the fire truck, then moved on to the heli pad and doused the helicopter with diesel and set it on fire. YLNG ordered the charter plane to take off rather than risk the torch. The prevailing belief is that the protest was orchestrated and the story about the Koran desecration was contrived. 50 or so Yemenis were arrested and they ultimately disappeared from the project. The mob, apparently satisfied that their message had been heard, cooled off and went back to work.
My opinion about the security conditions has evolved during the four weeks that I have been here. Initially, the only information available to me was the intimidatingly heavy fences and concertina wire strung everywhere inside and outside the facility, and the omnipresent Yemini military, with checkpoints at gate entrances and even at cafeterias. There are jeeps with turret-mounted machine guns constantly circling the perimeter of the fence. But over time, I have grown to realize that the Yemini laborers are mostly just interested in job security; there is an incentive for individuals to keep the management happy because there will be a significant manpower requirement to operate the plant once the construction is finished. I have never seen anything remotely resembling resentment, quite the contrary, I am treated with deference and respect anywhere I go. I have no trepidations whatsoever wandering among the so-called pioneer camps, even after dark. I have two Yemenis on my staff: they are career-minded and eager to learn so that they will have skills to offer once the hiring of long-term employees begins. It is difficult for me to imagine that either Ghamal or Hussein would participate in a riot targeting western personnel or materials. Still, it is a bit disconcerting that the March riot sought out the weak link in the YLNG security system: our means of escape.

Balhaf

Imagine a place so remote and uninviting that land ownership or property boundaries are irrelevant, the terrain so unnuturing that there are no ants, weeds, cactus or indigenous life of any kind. To the north, as far as the eye can see there is nothing but the tan and brown of sand dunes and volcanic ruble; to the south, the unbroken blue horizon of the Arabian Sea.

The project site – Yemen Liquified Natural Gas - shares a peninsula with an extinct volcanic outcrop, which is readily seen in a Google Maps search of Balhaf, Yemen. The other key feature evident in the satellite image is the crystal clarity of the water: the coral reef which surrounds the peninsula is clearly visible from space. The fenced portion of the facility extends several kilometers from the coast into climbing terrain of endless nothingness.
In contrast with the emptiness of the landscape beyond the fence, YLNG is a thriving city. As of this writing, there are 7,700 residents – all men - working 10 – 12 hours/day, 7 days/week. By the end of 2007 the number will grow to 10,000. There are 30 subcontractors from 20 different countries. The senior management of Yemgas, the prime contractor, consists of about 50 Europeans, mostly French and Brit, along with about 12 Americans, including me. Several of the specialty subcontractor firms – catering, utility management, commercial diving - are European and the managers of these firms, maybe 30 all told, are Euros. There are about 30 owner reps from the French firm, Total, verifying payment draws and monitoring the work progress. And that’s it. The balance of the population is Asian and African: mostly Arab laborers, but there are also large numbers of Chinese, Bangaldeshies, Indians and Koreans. In addition to being all men, there is another common denominator: every one of the inhabitants of this strange community – management and labor alike - are earning more money than they ever have. Another trait in common: not one of us would be here if we weren’t.

Travel Sidebar

When we look back on the menace of communism, it doesn’t seem so menacing anymore. Not long ago, I had an encounter with a drunk frat boy at the Draught House in Austin. He was clearly looking for a fight, so I deferred to his tirading. He inveighed with pointed but wobbly finger that my generation had lost its will in Vietnam, implying, I guess, that he supported an indefinite stay in Iraq.

I didn’t tell him that I had recently been to Vietnam and that it is a stable government with a steadily improving standard of living. The US is Vietnam’s #1 trading partner. Vietnam has emerged as a reliable ally in an otherwise unstable part of the world. In retrospect, it seems silly that we would have been fighting against this eventuality.

I think there were two important lessons that came out of the Cold War:

1.) We confused communism with repressive dictatorship. All of the propaganda against communism portrayed dictatorial and repressive regimes. That’s what we were fighting, not communism.
2.) Also, we learned that setting a good example is the best way to influence world events. The Cold War wasn’t won by the west; the Soviet Bloc imploded on its own. The example set by 1st world democracies influenced the outcome, but it was passive. The people in the Soviet block finally got tired of chronic grayness. They saw an alternative, so they took action.

How do those lessons apply to today’s crises in the Middle East?:

1.) We must be careful not to confuse criminal acts with nationalist or religious warfare. 911 was a criminal act, and should have been prosecuted as such. Our administration framed it as an act of war, and responded accordingly. In doing so they alienated many people who would have otherwise supported a police response.
2.) The only way to neutralize Muslim extremism is to lead by example and allow it to implode on its own. Any attempt by an infidel, especially the US, to win an ideological battle in the Middle East is doomed. The only hope for success is to address episodic eruptions as police actions, and let the court of world opinion take care of the rest. The weapons that these extremists rely upon are inherently self-defeating: restrictions on education and media; repression of women; promotion of an us-against-them credo. It is a concern that 1/6th of the world’s population increasingly condones this closed-mindedness, except that 5/6 think they are a bunch of kooks.

The opinions described above are intolerable to many Americans. They are unaware or unconcerned that during the Bush administration, world opinion has swayed heavily against the US. They seem oblivious to the loss of US hegemony in everything except military power. Much of the rest of the world would love to see US influence diminish; indeed it already has, due to declining clout in the world economy. Our enemies know that they can bankrupt us because the current administration can’t recognize a tar baby when it sees one.

Travel

The travel to Yemen was long – three days. Luckily, with a little help from my friends, I was able to catch up on the sleep that had been deprived during the days leading to my departure. The 4 hour layover at the Frankfurt Flughavn was a bit of a blur, although I remember enjoying some oversized pilsners at the Goethe Bar. I was pleased to find that my German had stuck with me enough to carry on a casual conversation while keeping an eye on my Lufthansa gate. I was reminded of the million other pilsners and casual conversations I had enjoyed 20 years earlier while defending Europe against the red menace.

The Frankfurt to Sana'a leg was nearly as long as Chicago to Frankfurt, and I passed the time again in a narcotic coma, thank goodness for helpful friends. Based on the orientation sessions and literature provided by KBR, I should have been on my toes upon arrival at Sana’a, the capital of Yemen. Instead I was torporous. Luckily Al Qaeda was off duty, and the visa and customs processing was uneventful. My driver met me outside of customs with my luggage. His face matched the photo I was provided in my security dossier – I love that term, it’s so spy - so I got into his car and drove across town to the Sana’a Sheraton.

The next morning’s flight was in a twin engine charter plane, one of two that is dedicated to the Yemen LNG project. All of the ex-pats on the project – about two hundred – are shuttled from Sana’a in these planes. I was the only American, and the only first timer. The others on my flight were from Egypt, England and France. They were coming off of rotation leave, and they seemed cheerful enough, which I took as a good sign.

The plane took off into the cloudless sky, and headed south. The flight attendant recited the familiar instructions about seat belts and cell phones in both Arabic and English. The city below gave way to isolated mountain villages with sparse patches of green, which I took to be agriculture. Eventually the villages played out and we flew for an hour and a half over barren, sun-baked desert, with no evidence whatsoever of roads, development or commerce of any kind.

Intro

Ships in harbor are safe, but that’s not what ships are for…

It took three full days to travel from Austin to Balhaf, Yemen. I flew out of Austin Bergstrom International Airport on Thursday, October 11 - under a new moon, appropriately – and laidover in Chicago, Frankfurt, Riyadh, and Sana’a, before finally arriving by propeller plane at the project site on Saturday afternoon.

My departure was characteristically unorganized, maybe even more than normal for me, and I left a good bit of important administranea partially or completely incomplete. Although I had been pushing for this ex-pat opportunity for two months, the mobilization date had remained elusive, and only came into sharp focus in the last week before I left. My normally chaotic Austin life had been exceptionally frenetic in the weeks leading up to departure, due to a hurricane of personal, professional and civic preoccupations competing for my time. So I didn’t pay much attention to the million details attendant to relocation to a new job in a foreign country until way late. Suffice it that my last few days in Austin were pretty scattered. I’m sure it will be some time before I realize all the repercussions of things left undone.

Friends and acquaintances’ opinions were split on my decision to take the job. A fair number - most, probably - wondered why I would consider leaving a comfortable life, great job, new house, great friends, a 30-year love affair with Austin, to move to a very remote industrial gulag in a part of the world that made no secret of its disdain for Americans. A smaller number were excited about my traveling to exotic lands, with the promise of adventure, new sights, new sounds.

But it wasn’t the allure of adventure in exotic lands that drove my decision; mostly it was an intangible, but palpable need for a change. In spite of the Edenish life I enjoyed in Austin, centering on fun things - friends, fine dining, the music scene, yacht club, a new house located a short walk from Barton Springs, the lake and downtown Austin - I sensed something missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly. In fact, for some time I had done my best to block it out with sensual distractions and intellectual amusements. But increasingly, these diversions only served to conjure a recurring sense that I was not being creative with my time and that comfy, familiar Austin was a distraction that stood in the way of something, not sure what.

Some people are motivated by ingrained sense of grandeur, which compels them to do creative things with their lives. They are guided by the stars as they meaningfully fulfill their role in a magnificent celestial plan. Not me. Although I value creativity as a personal goal, I typically avoid it except when there is nothing else fun to do. It is only when I have exhausted all avenues of procrastination, when there is no side door to slip through, that I am forced to act upon my innate creative impulses. The opportunity to work for KBR in Yemen provided that for me. No side doors. The timing was right, and I grew to realize that that an irreversible commitment for a year or so as an ex-pat in a remote, extremely unfamiliar and probably uncomfortable corner of the world would force me to recalibrate my life. And in doing so, I would also be able to satisfy a travel bug, maybe shake some bad habits and act on a number of New Year’s resolutions that I had been putting off.