“Emergency response” often conjures idealized images of aid workers doling out food and medicine to exhausted families as they arrive at a refugee camp or consoling children left traumatized by acts of violence.
But sitting long into the night working on proposals, budgets and reports, I discovered that the office rats in Yangon normally started scuttling around at 9 p.m., that the barbecue place downstairs stopped serving food at 10 p.m. and that cycling home under a pale full moon through the rutted and muddy backstreets was a respite to the previous 12 hours staring at a computer screen.
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