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International Development, Mission Life

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  • Food in the Mission

    Life Between Gates: Food in the Missions

    Food in the missions is more than just nourishment — it is survival, comfort, and culture all at once. Between the fences and checkpoints, food becomes a daily reminder of where you are and what you left behind. For me, Afghanistan, Iraq, and South Sudan each told a different story through food: scarcity, surprise, and resilience.

    Afghanistan — Four Choices and a Lesson in Adaptation

    Afghanistan was my first mission where I experienced food as a kind of quiet anchor in the middle of turbulence. Inside the UNOCA compound, we had four — or perhaps five — choices for food.

    • The Social Center: During the day it was a simple restaurant with burgers, pasta, and sandwiches. At night, it transformed into a bar with pool tables, old leather chairs, and garden seating. It was a surprisingly warm place in a gloomy context.
    • The Coffee Shop: Tucked between office buildings, it offered limited hot meals but a reliable selection of pastries, coffee, and saffron tea. It was also the social hub — you could run into the same colleague five times in one day.
    • The Local Canteen: My Afghan colleagues kindly guided me through its orderly but intimidating process — trays first, then cashier, then buffet, then back to pay. The food was simple: rice, chicken, local bread, vegetables. The memory of that meal is less about taste, more about being included in their world.
    • The Pizzeria: A small, surprisingly excellent pizza place, run with care. I remember going there with a colleague from China, both of us laughing over sodas and spice.
    • The Mini-Market + Cooking at Home: The fifth option was cooking in my small kitchenette. The shop sold everything from Swiss chocolate to Asian sauces, and cooking at home was a way to create comfort.

    Lifehack: Learn the unwritten rules of local canteens early. It saves stress — and wins you goodwill with local colleagues who are just trying to get lunch quickly.

    Afghanistan taught me that food was both routine and resistance — a way to create normalcy while the world outside the compound cracked with uncertainty.

    Iraq — Variety, Luxury, and Contrasts

    When I first landed in Iraq, I knew little about the country’s cuisine. A short trip to Beirut before deployment had introduced me to Middle Eastern flavors, but Iraqi, Jordanian, and Lebanese colleagues reminded me with a smile: “It’s not the same.”

    They were right. Iraq had its own rhythm.

    Inside the Green Zone

    Food inside the compound was safe but uninspiring:

    • A canteen run by Pakistani and Indian cooks, hearty but heavy.
    • A pizzeria, offering comfort food when routine meals became too much.
    • A branch of Ali Baba Café, famous for its strong coffee and pastries with za’atar.
    • And if you were lucky, a kitchenette at home to cook your own meals.

    Lifehack: Bring small comforts — spices, sauces, snacks. They make repetitive compound food feel like your own again.

    Beyond the Green Zone

    Rarely, and only when security allowed, we ventured into the so-called grey areas of Baghdad. There, the city revealed its beauty: antique tea houses, bakeries filled with sweets, modern coffee shops, and streets alive with clothing and accessory shops.

    It was outside the gates that I tasted authentic Iraqi kebabs, kibbeh, tabbouleh, and steaks, always ending with dark Iraqi tea and a dessert called Iznud al-Sitt (“woman’s elbow”). Watching the Tigris shimmer at sunset from a new line of restaurants felt like being transported to a different Baghdad — one of luxury and promise.

    Lifehack: If you’re cleared to step outside, take the opportunity. The food will remind you that Baghdad is far more than its headlines.

    The Contrast

    Inside, food was fuel. Outside, food was culture and pride. And I began to understand why Iraqi colleagues often skipped compound lunches — once you’ve grown up with some of the world’s best kebabs and falafel, compromise feels impossible.

    South Sudan — Food as Survival and Community

    South Sudan was my first mission in Africa, and it introduced me to food as both a risk and a lifeline.

    Juba — Warnings and Adaptations

    In Juba’s Tomping compound, I was surrounded by fast food, two restaurants, two grocery shops, and a small Bangladeshi store. At first, I ordered milkshakes and masala chicken. But colleagues quickly warned me: “Be careful with meat and dairy here.”

    The hot, humid climate and weak infrastructure meant food safety was always a gamble. Over time, I learned to rely on trusted restaurants, like Turkish and Chinese spots vetted by colleagues, and to buy carefully selected goods from reliable vendors.

    Lifehack: In South Sudan, food safety is survival. Listen to veterans of the mission — their advice is worth more than any official briefing.

    Aweil — Simplicity and Warmth

    Assigned to Aweil in the north, I found even fewer choices, but a warmer community. On my first day, colleagues from Ethiopia and Iraq welcomed me with chicken stir fry and rice — simple, delicious, and unforgettable after a long, stressful journey.

    Food options in Aweil included:

    • Ciano Restaurant, a mission-wide chain.
    • A local cafeteria with traditional South Sudanese food.
    • Cooking at home, thanks to a kitchenette that gave me real control over quality.

    Groceries were scarce and unpredictable. Sometimes I bought fruit from the mini-market, sometimes from local vendors, sometimes through delivery services that brought meat, vegetables, or hygiene goods. But availability was never guaranteed.

    Lifehack: Money doesn’t guarantee quality in Aweil. Flexibility and creativity matter more than choice.

    The Reflection

    Food in South Sudan was not about indulgence — it was about trust, health, and sharing. Eating safely meant cooking often, but it also meant sitting under mango trees, watching silver monkeys, and sharing whatever was available with colleagues.

    Closing Thoughts — Food as Mirror of Mission Life

    Looking back, each mission taught me something different through food:

    • Afghanistan taught me adaptation — finding comfort in routine and social hubs.
    • Iraq taught me contrast — the difference between food as fuel and food as cultural pride.
    • South Sudan taught me resilience — that food safety and community matter more than variety.

    “Between gates and checkpoints, food becomes more than just eating. It becomes survival, memory, and connection — a way to taste the humanity that persists, even in the most fragile places.”

  • What to Pack for a UN Assignment in a Conflict Zone

    Insights and Lifehacks

    Before travelling to Afghanistan, my packing list was a mess of confusion. I knew women had to cover, yet Afghanistan is unbearably hot in summer. Anxious and unsure, I reached out to a former male colleague who had already spent nearly five years there. My text to him carried all my stress: “What would you advise me to pack?”

    Knowing my polished, formal style from our time working together at the US Embassy, he replied bluntly:

    “Zarina, it is not work in the city. It is a UN Mission — you need everything practical and easy to move around in an unpredictable, unsafe, underdeveloped country with poor infrastructure. Don’t pack too much, especially clothes. Only practical things.”

    I shot back: “Easy for you to say — you’re a man. I need your advice on what a woman should wear and what is necessary there.”
    He admitted he wasn’t sure, and simply said:

    “Whatever you pack, make sure you feel practical, mobile, and comfortable.”

    So I arrived, and after quarantine I spent my first week at work wearing a scarf as much as possible in the windy, hot weather, along with loose trousers and a long jacket covering down to my knees. I felt suffocated under the layers but told myself: This is the cultural side of mission life. You must embrace it as a tolerant, educated, well-prepared professional. No complaints allowed.

    Until one day, I saw a Dutch colleague cycling across the compound in a flowing white summer dress, bare thighs and open shoulders catching the sun. I stood there sweating under my scarf, jaw slightly open, fixing my headcover and wiping away the sweat trickling down from my hairline. That evening, I rushed back to my room, pulled out the lighter summer clothes I had packed “just in case”, and quietly adjusted my “mission dress code” for compound life.

    💡 Lifehack: Always pack a mix of conservative and casual clothing. Cultural norms matter outside, but compounds often allow relaxed dress — and having both options keeps you comfortable and respectful.

    After Afghanistan, when I was sent to Iraq, I felt a little more prepared. My closest friend had spent around four years in northern Iraq and had been to Baghdad multiple times. She gave me detailed descriptions of the environment, climate, and daily realities. Her advice helped me realize that this time, I could bring more of the clothes and personal things I felt comfortable in, because I would likely be spending a year or two there.

    I wasn’t wrong. Even though the stereotypical perception about Iraq paints it as an Islamic country with strict dress rules for women, my experience in Afghanistan had taught me that UN compounds are more liberal environments, and most of my time would be spent there rather than in local communities.

    When I arrived in Baghdad, all those perceptions of rigid conservatism melted away. Iraq was nothing like the flat images shown in the media. It was ancient, magnificent, and layered with contrasts. I saw women walking confidently in leggings and low-cut tops, others fully covered in black abayas, and still others in chic hairstyles, carrying children while shopping with their husbands. The diversity defied any single category.

    In that mix, my moderately conservative clothing fit in perfectly — professional enough for the mission, yet not out of place in the local environment. And to my delight, I also discovered another truth about Baghdad: packing space should always leave room for food adventures. The kebabs, the desserts, the richness of the local cuisine — these were impossible to decline.

    💡 Lesson: In Iraq, especially if you are based in Baghdad, pack for the heat (30–40 degrees for most of the year), but don’t overthink conservatism inside compounds. A balance of practical, modest clothing works well.

    By the time I reached South Sudan, I thought I had mastered the art of packing — until the tropical heat and humidity humbled me again. Breathable clothing and rehydration salts became the things I wished I had more of.

    💡 Essential: In tropical missions, carry lightweight fabrics, mosquito nets, insect repellent, and oral rehydration salts.

    And in every mission — Iraq, Afghanistan, South Sudan — I came to treasure the small things that kept me sane. Snacks from home, a journal, even a framed photo made sterile rooms and stressful days feel more human.

    💡 Resilience trick: Always bring one or two personal items — snacks, tea, books, or photos. They don’t weigh much but they keep your spirit steady.

    Looking back, each mission reshaped my understanding of what it means to “pack” for life in conflict zones. Afghanistan taught me humility and the balance between cultural respect and personal comfort. Iraq showed me the danger of stereotypes, and how diversity and resilience live side by side in places the world too often misjudges. South Sudan reminded me that sometimes the environment itself — heat, humidity, mosquitoes — can be just as demanding as cultural rules. Together, these experiences taught me that packing is not just about clothes or gear; it is about preparing yourself to adapt, to endure, and to find small anchors of comfort in unpredictable worlds.

    The right suitcase won’t make your mission easy — but it will make it survivable, and sometimes even comfortable.

  • Women in Missions: Staying Safe and Thriving in the Field

    First mission experience

    In the summer of 2021, at the height of the pandemic, I spent six weeks inside the UNOCA compound in Kabul, supporting an election project just two months before the Taliban takeover. It was my first time visiting Kabul and this period was marked by confinement, uncertainty, and contrasts — moments of tension, but also of solidarity, learning, and small comforts.

    The Quarantine: Seven Days of Solitude

    My first week was spent entirely in quarantine. I did not leave my room for seven days. A kind colleague brought groceries to my door, and those simple deliveries felt like lifelines.

    From my room, I often heard the distant sounds of Kabul. One afternoon, the sharp crack of gunfire made me freeze. Stepping outside the row of buildings — shipping containers converted into living quarters — I noticed a Canadian military officer approaching and asked him about the shooting. He smiled knowingly and said, “You must be new here?” Then, with a casual gesture over his shoulder, he explained: “If the shots come from the north, it’s just military training. From the east or anywhere else — that’s the Taliban.” His unbothered, matter-of-fact tone revealed how routine such distinctions had become.

    Life Inside the Compound

    When quarantine ended, I began to explore the limited world within the walls of UNOCA.

    • The canteens and pizzerias were our favorite eating places, and in a tiny coffee shop you could find saffron tea, a fragrant treasure amid the spiciness of local Afghan food.
    • There was a small gym, where men and women worked out separately, and a local beauty salon run by two ladies from my own country. The salon became a place of laughter, warmth, and community.

    Daily life was shaped by restrictions, but we found ways to create normalcy. Sharing meals, short walks in the courtyard, and friendly conversations stitched together a sense of belonging.

    Glimpses of Kabul Beyond the Walls

    I saw life outside only on my way to and from the airport. Those brief journeys left strong impressions.

    • Children ran barefoot in the streets, their laughter echoing against the backdrop of poverty.
    • At the airport, local men who spoke some English were eager, almost desperate, to engage in conversation, clinging to any hope that might open a way out of the country.
    • The international terminal was stark and primitive, with barely enough seats.
    • The air smelled of burning wood and cattle dung, the fuels that many families relied on.
    • In certain districts, aging Soviet-era apartment blocks stood as reminders of another intervention, another legacy Afghanistan had inherited.

    Colleagues and Contrasts

    Inside the mission, I encountered a mosaic of people. Some Afghan nationals working with the UN carried themselves with a surprising arrogance or inefficiency — perhaps a shield from fatigue, or frustration with international oversight that never seemed to bring lasting change.

    Yet I also met the opposite: a young Afghan cleaning lady, kind and ambitious, who told me she was studying part-time to become an English teacher. Her father encouraged her dream, and her determination stood as a quiet act of courage in a society where women’s futures were under constant threat.

    Among international colleagues, I shared long evenings with Americans, Kosovars, and Egyptians. And in lighter moments, I laughed over good food with fellow countrywomen whose generosity kept spirits high.

    Lessons on Safety and Thriving

    Being a woman in Kabul during those weeks meant living with constant reminders of risk, but also learning that thriving is possible even in confinement.

    I found that thriving came through:

    • Boundaries — knowing when to distance yourself from emotions that don’t serve you, to protect both mental peace and energy.
    • Small rituals — saffron tea, courtyard walks, and laughter in the salon.
    • Community — the reassurance of colleagues, the kindness of strangers, the courage of a young woman dreaming of teaching.

    Conclusion

    Looking back, those six weeks taught me that women in missions carry both unique vulnerabilities and unique strengths. Safety and self-care are not luxuries — they are essentials that allow us to contribute meaningfully.

    Thriving as a woman in a mission is not about ignoring danger or hardship. It is about building resilience from the ordinary — a cup of tea, a trusted colleague, a shared laugh — while standing steady in the extraordinary circumstances of conflict and change.

    The lesson I carry from Kabul is simple: women bring a role to missions that cannot be filled by men. The way we balance mental and physical resilience is not always the same, and that difference matters. During my short stay in Afghanistan — at a historically critical and unstable moment — I gained a perspective on women’s experiences in missions that was both unique and profound. I know that had I been there just a few years earlier, my experience would have been very different.

    Based on my experience in Afghanistan and all the other missions, I agree once again with this statement attributed to Zanny Minton Beddoes, the editor-in-chief of The Economist, that to me sounds almost like a scientific conclusion ” The nation that fails women, fails”.

  • Why Afghanistan Taught Me More About Resilience Than Any MBA

    Mission life

    When I first accepted an assignment in Afghanistan, I thought I understood resilience. Earlier in my career, I had spent three years as an OSCE representative in the remote Naryn province of Kyrgyzstan — a place of breathtaking mountains, underdeveloped infrastructure, and winters so cold they tested both endurance and creativity. That experience, along with years in international development and an MBA in my pocket, gave me confidence that I was ready for anything.

    Yet nothing prepared me for what Afghanistan — with its complexity, unpredictability, and intensity — would teach me about what it really means to endure, adapt, and grow.

    Resilience Isn’t Bravado — It’s Rhythm

    Resilience is often misunderstood as toughness or unshakable confidence.

    In Afghanistan, I learned that resilience was about rhythm — small daily anchors that gave stability when everything else felt uncertain.

    My anchors were simple:

    • A short walk in the compound after sunset.
    • The ritual of morning tea with colleagues.
    • A five-minute breathing exercise outside under the sun.

    These tiny patterns became my invisible armor.

    Boundaries as Survival

    One of the hardest lessons was learning boundaries. In a context where everyone is stretched thin, it’s easy to feel guilty saying yes to every meeting, late-night call, or endless crisis update.

    But I discovered that without boundaries, I had no resilience. Protecting quiet time and creating a clear stop to my workday wasn’t selfish — it was survival.

    Small Habits, Big Shifts

    Resilience for me was built on consistency, not grand gestures:

    • Evening journaling: “One positive aspect of the day” kept me focused on what is important around me that is grounding me in this condition.
    • Breathing breaks: Few pauses throughout the day, no matter what, to reset stress.
    • Weekly connection: A cup of tea with colleagues where we talked about everything except work.

    These small habits often restored more energy than an entire weekend of rest.

    Naryn vs. Afghanistan: Two Faces of Resilience

    Working in Naryn taught me endurance of a different kind — braving isolation, scarcity, and unforgiving winters.

    Afghanistan, however, demanded resilience of the mind and spirit, in a place where every day carried security concerns and political volatility.

    • In Naryn, resilience meant learning to live simply and adapt to lack.
    • In Afghanistan, it meant protecting mental space, setting boundaries, and finding calm in uncertainty.

    Clearly both environments shaped my approach to such conditions. But Afghanistan with a lot more uncertainty in the air, has sharpened the lesson that resilience is as much about mindset as it is about survival skills.

    Resilience is Collective, Not Just Personal

    Perhaps the greatest revelation was that resilience isn’t only individual — it’s communal.

    My Afghan colleagues, who lived with far greater uncertainty, modeled extraordinary strength. Their humor, hospitality, and ability to find light even in hardship reminded me that resilience thrives in community.

    Lessons Beyond the Mission

    • An MBA gave me frameworks and strategies.
    • Naryn gave me endurance.
    • Afghanistan gave me perspective.

    It taught me that resilience is not about pushing harder but about creating space to breathe, to connect, and to recover.

    Resilience is a way of living — learned one habit, one boundary, and one shared laugh at a time.

  • Mission Life: Between Hardship and Purpose

    Newbie in the international mission

    When I first joined an international mission, I thought I knew what to expect as I had few colleagues and friends living in mission life. Security briefings, long hours, a mix of cultures, and the thrill of working on something bigger than myself. What I didn’t realize was how profoundly mission life would shape not only my career but also mold my character cutting off some parts and adding on the other.

    Living In The Barriered Compounds
    Mission life often means living behind high walls and razor wire. In Iraq and Afghanistan, I remember the constant hum of generators, the familiar routine of checkpoints, and the daily reminder that security dictated every decision — even something as simple as going to the market. South Sudan was no different: curfews, movement restrictions, and armored vehicles became part of the rhythm of life. These limitations could feel suffocating, yet they also taught me adaptability. I learned to find freedom in small rituals — a walk around the compound, a conversation over coffee, or an evening of journaling.

    The Human Connections
    Despite the restrictions, mission life is rich in human connection. Working with colleagues from different countries, I witnessed a mix of languages, traditions, and worldviews. In Afghanistan, I remember late-night discussions over tea with local staff who shared stories of resilience that humbled me. In South Sudan, laughter with colleagues during power outages reminded me that even in the darkest moments, solidarity can keep spirits alive. These friendships, forged under pressure, often outlast the missions themselves.

    The Emotional Rollercoaster
    Not a single orientation session prepares you for the emotional intensity of mission life. There are days when the weight of responsibility feels overwhelming — when assignments for conducting highly sensitive yet needed workshops with the local community that is busy with surviving through their daily poverty challenges reach your mail inbox and you question whether your work makes a difference. There are also days filled with pride and joy, when a successful training, a peaceful election day, or a small breakthrough reminds you why you chose this path. Over time, I learned to embrace both: the struggle and the reward. They are inseparable parts of the mission experience.

    Purpose in the Midst of Hardship
    For me, the hardest part of mission life was not the long hours or the heat — it was the constant distance from family and the world I once considered “normal.” Celebrations missed, relationships stretched, and a sense of living between two worlds. Yet, the sense of purpose sustained me. Knowing that my work contributed, however modestly, to strengthening institutions, supporting elections, or giving communities a voice made the sacrifices meaningful.

    Lessons Learned
    Looking back, mission life taught me resilience, patience, and perspective. It showed me that even in hardship, growth is possible. It reminded me that impact is not always visible immediately, but small steps — a meeting, a training, a partnership — accumulate over time into something larger. Most importantly, it taught me that mission life is not only about serving others but also about transforming ourselves.

    Mission life is not easy — but it is unforgettable. It leaves you with scars, yes, but also with stories, friendships, and a deeper sense of purpose.

  • International Development As We Know It Today: Challenges, Shifts, and New Opportunities

    International development

    International development is at a crossroads. The last decade has seen extraordinary progress in some areas — poverty reduction, global health, digital access — but setbacks in others, especially in fragile and conflict-affected states. Today, development work is no longer only about delivering aid. It is about building resilience, strengthening institutions, and finding innovative ways to respond to a world where crises are increasingly interconnected.

    From Aid to Resilience

    In earlier decades, international development largely focused on aid delivery: food assistance, infrastructure projects, and health campaigns. While these interventions remain essential in humanitarian emergencies, there has been a marked shift toward resilience-building. Development today emphasizes strengthening local institutions, empowering communities, and ensuring that progress can withstand future shocks. Whether it’s climate change, pandemics, or political instability, the emphasis is on enabling societies not just to recover but to adapt and thrive.

    The Role of Technology and Innovation

    Technology has become a transformative force in international development. From mobile banking that empowers women in rural Africa, to drones delivering vaccines in remote areas, innovation is bridging gaps that once seemed insurmountable. Digital platforms also enable data-driven decision-making, allowing governments and humanitarian actors to allocate resources more effectively. Yet, the digital divide persists, with millions still lacking access to basic internet or digital literacy — a challenge that remains central to today’s development agenda.

    Persistent Challenges

    Despite progress, the sector faces persistent and complex challenges. Funding shortfalls remain acute, with development budgets stretched thin amid multiple global crises. Geopolitical rivalries increasingly shape aid flows, making development work more politicized. Fragile states continue to struggle with governance, corruption, and instability, complicating the work of international actors. Climate change adds an additional layer of urgency, threatening to undo decades of progress in poverty reduction, food security, and public health.

    Stories of Hope and Progress

    Amid these challenges, there are powerful success stories that show what is possible. In several countries, targeted investment in education and health has dramatically improved life expectancy and literacy rates. Grassroots women’s organizations are leading peacebuilding efforts in communities scarred by conflict. Renewable energy projects are bringing light and opportunities to villages previously left in the dark. These stories remind us that development, while difficult, is never futile — progress is possible even in the most difficult contexts.

    The Road Ahead

    International development today demands flexibility, creativity, and humility. It is about listening to communities, working in partnership, and recognizing that solutions cannot be imported but must be co-created. The practitioners of today are not just aid workers — they are facilitators, negotiators, and innovators. As the global community looks ahead to challenges such as climate resilience, democratic governance, and equitable growth, international development will continue to play a central role in shaping a more just and sustainable future.

    In the end, development is not just about projects or funding cycles. It is about people — their dignity, resilience, and right to live in societies that are peaceful, inclusive, and fair.

  • Welcome!

    Welcome to my blog. Idointernationaldevelopment.com is where I share the insights and describe various aspects of the life of the international personnel in the UN Missions across the world. There are a lot vagueness, distrust and unclarity to the purpose and life of such missions, especially from local governments and communities as they perceive it in a mixed – positive and negative ways. Stories and experiences that I share here come from my personal experiences in these missions. Some of the aspects I describe are commonly known among community of international personnel in the missions, and some of them are my personal perceptions and thoughts. I truly hope it will be a fund read for you and in the best case scenario, somebody will pick up useful insight from my stories for their endeavor in the UN Mission abroad.