COUNTRY 24 · BELGIUM · 2018 | Belgium: A Stop Along the Way

Belgium — A Stop That Became a Chapter

In the summer of 2018, I had just returned from Nigeria and was wondering what my next step might be. I was looking for work in Europe, and Belgium seemed like an option that was a little closer to home than some of the others.

I started looking at jobs without really taking it too seriously. Then I came across an opening at one of Médecins Sans Frontières’ (MSF) Operational Centres. I applied, and a few days later I was sitting in a café in Milos, doing my interview.

#funfact: At one point, while answering a question along the lines of, “What challenges do you think this position, working across all MSF missions, will face and how would you deal with them?”, the church bell in the village started ringing. When they asked what the sound was, I tried to explain the time difference and the fact that the bell rang every hour. Try explaining Milos in the middle of an interview for a job in Brussels.

A few weeks later, I found myself in Belgium.

The MSF offices were right in the centre of Brussels. There was a canteen with food and coffee, different spaces to work, a piano and photographs covering the walls.

And, if I'm being honest, having a job at MSF headquarters, in one of the nicest offices I had ever worked in, made me feel like I was finally on the right track.

It didn't take long to figure out who my “family” there would be — the people who support you when you're having a bad day and celebrate with you when things are going well.

Luis from Spain. Laurelie, half Belgian and half Italian. Sarah and Mohammad from Egypt.

A friendship that started with, “Hi, I'm Sarah and this is Luis,” and is still going today.

Patrick was my new manager. He had years of experience in the corporate world and, at the same time, a genuine sense of empathy for his team.

He was the first manager who ever told me:

“I don't care what time you come in or what time you leave. I care that the things you tell me can be done are done on time. And if you need support, knock on my door.”

That level of trust, collaboration and confidence-building stayed with me long after Belgium.

Life in Brussels

On my very first day, after dropping off my things, I went around the local public schools trying to find somewhere to learn French. I tried for two years. I may not have got very far, and my French today probably still sounds α complete nonsense but it was more than enough to help me get by and communicate at a basic level while I was there.

Brussels was hard for me. I had spent years getting used to the sun in Greece, Myanmar and Nigeria, so the grey weather hit me harder than I expected. I remember moments when I would find myself crying without really knowing why. At some point, I was talking to Mona, a Lebanese friend who had lived in Belgium for many years.

“I don't know. I'm not okay... but I don't know why.”

“Maro,” she said, “you're in Brussels. Go to Greece, girl. You need some sun.”

And that was probably when I realised the weather wasn't helping. I would get on the metro in sunshine to go and buy a swimsuit because spring had finally arrived, and come back out into hail.

Someone once told me that the best thing about Belgium was the train to Amsterdam. 

And, honestly, they weren't completely wrong. There were little trips, plenty of shops in the city centre, beautiful buildings and something interesting to look at almost every day. But after a while, I didn't feel there was much else pulling me in. I could appreciate the city and still feel that something inside me wasn't quite working.

The people who opened their doors

For the first few months, I stayed with someone I knew. A few months later, when I started looking for a place of my own, I realised that financially I could really only afford a room in a shared house. That was pretty common in Brussels, a city full of people who come for a few years to work at the European Parliament, international organisations and NGOs, and then move on.

One day at work, I posted on the MSF internal platform that I was looking for a place to live. A little while later, I received a message:

“Maro, I'm Christina. I saw that you're looking for a place. If you want, come and stay at mine until you find somewhere.”

Christina was Greek and also worked for MSF. I didn't know her. She didn't know me. And yet, she opened the door of her home to me.

#reminderformyself: One day I should probably count how many wonderful people have opened their doors to me at moments like this. I have nothing but gratitude for every one of them.

And that is also where I met Bambo. It wasn't love at first sight. It was love at second sight, though.

A beautiful white dog with one spot over her eye. I took over her sofa, which naturally led to a small battle over who was going to win. Eventually, we agreed to sleep together that night. For the first hour. Then she went back to her mum. And I can think of plenty of reasons why she did that apart from the fact that the radiator was right next to her.

A stop that became a chapter

Brussels was a city that felt both familiar and foreign to me. Familiar because you can get to know it quite easily. Walk around it, learn your way around and eventually understand how it works. Foreign because I always knew I wasn't going to completely connect with it.

I wasn't going to fully fit.I always knew it was a stop. A stop where I grew up, became stronger, learned, put myself out there, met people and built things.

And, apart from the ridiculous amount of unnecessary stuff I bought at Primark, probably in an attempt to fill some kind of gap, Belgium also left me with seven friends (Wow!)

All of us were more or less on the same boat. Sometimes we were all up together. Other times, some of us were up while others were struggling to stay afloat. Today, that boat has taken each of us in a different direction. But the signals we send each other are still there. We still reach out when we need to. And when it matters.

And then, a few years later, I look back at that period and realise just how differently I had imagined leaving Belgium. In March 2020, I left for a few days, never imagining I would never return. Covid-19 turned the transition I had expected to happen in the usual way into something completely different. I had imagined leaving with a return ticket, suitcases and a casual “see you soon”. 

Instead, there were frustrating phone calls with the municipality, friends picking up my things, and little Celine, by then Sarah and Mohammad's daughter, taking my scooter.

And just like that, a chapter I thought would simply continue came to an end in a way I had never planned. As with so many things in my life, though, it somehow turned out to be exactly what it needed to be.

Follow me to the next country… Uganda