I was only 26 when I got the LinkedIn message that probably changed my life. I remember the remember the recruiter very sheepishly telling me about the role, she was almost apologetic.
It was 2017, and from an outsider’s view I had everything a single guy my age and in my situation could ever ask for; I had a very stable job with ExxonMobil that offered benefits that included luxury apartments fully paid for in one of the most prestigious neighbourhoods in the wild metropolis that is Cairo, before which I was housed in a luxury 5 star hotel (Kempinski) for over 6 months. There were also the bonuses and cash benefits that were thrown at us on top of our already quite luscious salaries whenever we complained about anything in the work environment. I was also very well respected at work, and was the most senior and most experienced supervisor at my level (and in some cases above my level) at ExxonMobil Egypt at the time, and I decided to leave that all behind and move to Djibouti.
So what made me leave?
I loved my time at ExxonMobil, and I was very happy there. Until I wasn’t. I need to be clear that I still love the job, the terminal industry, and the places I worked to this day, but I had gotten to the point where I was became saturated. Monotony can be a killer in a field as exciting as ours, when you know there was so much about the business that you could learn only if you were allowed to step out into a different position within the same organisation. I remember having to remind myself time and time again that I couldn’t even imagine working in a different place, I just needed a new role with fresh responsibilities.
The problem was my then supervisors didn’t (wouldn’t) see that, and thought that by just flashing a couple new bonuses at me every time I complained my hunger for change would be satisfied. I found this patronising solution to my problem hurtful, and I simply couldn’t believe an organisation as globally and locally large and influential as ours didn’t have a spot for me where I could better develop my skills, this hurt.
On a boring overnight shift during my peak disgruntlement I received a LinkedIn message from a recruiter looking for someone to manage the operations of a small LPG terminal that will shortly begin construction in Djibouti. I immediately thought it was surely a scam.
However my appetite to get anything done at work beyond keeping the cogs turning at the bare minimum requirement was long gone at that point, so I answered back asking for more details.
They were looking for someone with the following qualifications:
- Sufficient terminal experience in an international organization (check).
- Fluent in English, Arabic, and basic French a plus (Check, check, and check).
- (She stressed this one more than once) Young, and has no problem being in Djibouti for an extended period of time.
It was a gratifying moment when I realised I actually have something that was desirable, as opposed to the way my management back then made me feel like I was expendable and quite fortunate to be where I was. This was one of the biggest lessons learned that has resonated with me since I myself became a manager, to spend as much time and effort needed to express gratitude and appreciation towards my team, and to let it be clear that their efforts are well noticed and appreciated.
However I must be clear that it was never an immediate yes. There were moments after I received that offer where I wondered what the eff I was doing even considering leaving all that is safe, comfortable, and secure behind just to jump into an unknown desert. There were also other times where I asked myself who the hell I thought I was, and if I really thought that an inexperienced kid in his 20s with a lingering depression could actually be needed by another group of people looking for someone to entrust with a full LPG terminal, especially given that my own people wouldn’t even trust me with anything other than what I had been doing for the previous 5 years.
That feeling of self doubt wouldn’t fully leave me until months after I actually made the move, but it was quite prominent at first. I remember actually getting up from my seat at the airport to leave and run back home as I was waiting for my first flight away. But I also remember (and appreciate) what made me sit back down.
Why I did it
Working with ExxonMobil, I got to meet some a lot of different people from a very diverse array of backgrounds, nationalities, and areas of expertise. I noticed that those who were the most successful were also the most interesting, and they all had one thing in common: an exciting work experience from an obscure part of the world, and it was almost always in Africa.
I also longed for something bigger than myself. I’ve always known I had something to prove, now that I am older I can almost certainly recognise that now for young naivety, and thank God I had that.
What is Djibouti like?
Djibouti is a tiny country on the eastern Horn of Africa where poverty is quite rampant. Its capital Djibouti City, is just a basic small town with all the amenities you can expect. There are supermarkets, some restaurants, a Sheraton, and a Kempinski where I stayed my first night (the irony here still makes me giggle years later).
My project however, was in a tiny village called Tadjourah. It is a 3 hour drive away which crosses narrow mountain passes, a dormant volcano, and the sea. The scenery is breathtaking to get there, when you forget that you are hours away from any form of help or rescue if needed.
My house in Tadjourah was quite comfortable, but it was the only house within the 3 hour drive radius that had internet, air conditioning, a fridge, a microwave, a tv, and a washing machine all at once. I was also the only foreigner there. The population in Tadjourah is tiny, and comprises mostly of a group of well-mannered people of nomadic origin who make up for their extreme poverty in incredible generosity and courtesy.
Nicknamed the eye of the storm, Djibouti the country is surrounded by areas of conflict; to its North there is Eritrea, to its South there is Somalia, Yemen to its East, and Ethiopia to its West. Needless to say I never expected it to be comfortable, however I was astounded at just how calm it was. I have travelled to many different corners of the world, and I can confidently say it is by far one of the most peaceful places I’ve ever been to. This of course is not by coincidence, as it is home to some of the largest military bases of many of the world’s superpowers, mainly owing to its very strategic geographic proximity to all major areas of interest in the region.
What did I learn?
My experience in Djibouti taught me a lot about myself as a person and as a professional. Before then I went through life thinking the world runs on ExxonMobil-style procedures, but I never knew there was another side of the world that only operates if you write those procedures yourself, and that I have what it takes to write them when I have to.
I also never realised that being an introvert is not debilitating, quite the opposite really. It forces you to push forward and exercise your social muscle more than others, which really prompts some interesting conversations and experiences that you simply cannot find by staying within the safe, the comfortable, and the secure.
Taking in this challenge (and boy was it a tough one) ultimately shaped the professional I am today, and it opened some doors of opportunity to me that would never have presented themselves had I stayed back home.
So should you do what I did?
What I did was not wise. I know I never did anything revolutionary or special, and I absolutely do not take for granted that the only reason I have the opportunity to write these words on my own website is purely because it worked out for me in the end, and that I was among the lucky few out of countless brave souls before me that had a favourable outcome. We only hear of the success stories, we can never know how many before us attempted similar challenges and failed, and this is sad.
If however such a prospect excites you, then please make sure you write all about it to remind us to be proud of what we’ve done, and what we can do still.