My quiet diplomacy

Growing up, I spent the evenings watching the news or a documentary with my family on the living room TV. I watched what was happening without understanding much but had an idea of major occurrences. I knew the names of countries, and their flags and had a flair for learning national anthems. My childhood curiosity for the world coupled with a love for reading made me always believe that I will grow to work in the international arena. I first wanted to be a flight attendant thinking that it would help me travel the world, then changed my mind to becoming a Femme d’Affaire when I saw one of my aunts always traveling for her clothing business. The bottom line for me was the ability to see in real life the images I saw on TV and in books. My curiosity came with quietness. I enjoyed spending time alone in a corner and observed more than spoke. In my mind, there was a world where things were quieter than in the real world. I loved silence.

Years later when I started my first year of University, I settled on language studies. I was told that for each language you speak, you have a different vision of the world; I wanted to have many visions and the skills to understand as many people as I could.  A chance encounter led me to the humanitarian world where I began a career in grant management and education. In the first seven years of my career, I worked and lived in Chad, Niger, Somaliland, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Namibia, Nicaragua, Jordan, the Palestinian territories and the Republic of Congo. With each experience living in these countries, I learned the power of quiet diplomacy by observing, understanding, and experiencing the realities of local populations. I joined the humanitarian field with the desire to support communities. My approach is to quietly observe and ask questions to better formulate how to better provide support. I believe that being a humanitarian and a diplomat lies in seeing the need from the perspective of those in need to build programs that truly cater to them. Being a silent observer allows the capturing and understanding of that perspective.

I work in the field that rewards the loudest in the room. The ones who like to speak loud regardless of the validity of what they are saying are praised for their participation. My quietness has put me at a disadvantage on many occasions. I only speak when I believe something needs to be said and not talk just for the sake of talking. When there are instances where others are quiet about an injustice that’s where I find myself speaking up then labelling me as problematic is their response.

My upbringing as an African woman also plays a role as from a young age, we learn not to be too loud in the presence of others in certain cultures.  In my culture when sharing a meal or being in the presence of elders requires a level of silence which is a sign of respect. These manners transcend with some of us into the professional life. For example, I still can’t effectively interrupt an ongoing conversation between people. I would rather wait until there is a few minutes of silence until I can come in. This is often seen as a weakness although I beg to differ.

As a current humanitarian and a future diplomat, the African proverb that says silence brings the wisdom of the ancestors speaks to me. Being quiet allows me to think and analyze carefully before answering a situation.  Canceling the noise of those too eager to hear their own voices, I listen, and gather all the information without being quick to jump in, I am able to, in a few sentences, make my point. Timely quietness in a group setting is also a form of asserting your presence without a word. My field of work might think quietness is a sign of weakness, but I will hold on to the thought that quiet diplomacy has more power to solve problems than unnecessary loudness. As the proverb says, silence allows me to think inward and gather wisdom gained from international life experiences to decide what to say or do. I move and progress quietly through different missions around the world and hold on to my quietness and ability to observe, analyze, and collect information before letting my words out.

Deborah Melom Ndjerareou

Picture: 11 year old Deborah Ndjerareou