The Most Important Thing to Carry: Wisdom in Chaos

What is the most important thing to carry with you all the time?

I’m at Geneva airport, 5:30 PM, same ritual I’ve done a thousand times. My bag’s going through the scanner – laptops, files, three different phones, the usual mess. The security guy, who should have known me by now, nods and waves me through.

But he can’t see what I really carry. Nobody can.

Dharmalingam’s Voice in My Head

My grandfather used to sit under this massive mango tree every morning at dawn. Five years old, I thought he was nuts. Who gets up that early just to sit there?

“Son,” he’d say, “world’s always screaming at you. If you can’t find the quiet inside, you’ll never hear anything important.”

I rolled my eyes. What did this old man know?

Thirty years later, I’m in a UN Country Team Retreat meeting with the government; everyone insists on pushing their point of view, and suddenly I hear him. Clear as day. That’s when I realize – he’s been with me this whole time. Harare, Zimbabwe, in ’94 when I was falling apart. Madagascar during those impossible negotiations with international partners. Every crisis, every moment when I thought I was in over my head.

The most important thing I carry is his voice. Not literally – he died years ago. But the way he saw things. The steadiness he had.

Sounds weird, but it works. During the COVID-19 epidemic, I’m sitting across with people who does not believe in vaccination, and Dharmalingam reminds me they’re just scared people protecting themselves and what they love. Changes everything.

My Crazy Morning Thing

People think I’m insane for getting up at 5 AM when I’m already jet-lagged to hell. Twenty minutes sitting quiet, then an hour in whatever gym I can find. The gym could be a luxurious hotel, a concrete room filled with rusty weights, or simply bodyweight exercises. Doesn’t matter.

That hour is what lets me handle the rest. Without it, I’m just another exhausted diplomat making bad decisions.

Now it’s automatic. Geneva, Antananarivo, some random hotel in Port Louis – I find a quiet corner and a place to sweat. Everything else falls into place after that.

Growing Up Mixed in Paradise

Seychelles isn’t just lovely beaches. When you’re part European, part Asian, and part African, family gatherings are like mini United Nations meetings. Everyone’s got a different take on everything. You learn really fast that truth depends on where you’re sitting.

This saved my ass more times than I can count. Cultural misunderstanding about to blow up a negotiation? I’ve lived that tension my whole life. Someone’s communication style seems rude? Probably just how their culture shows urgency.

In Zambia, this elderly man shared his family’s water with me during a drought. Didn’t speak much English, but he understood I was there trying to help. Taught me more about patience than any training manual ever did.

Madagascar has this concept – “fihavanana.” Everything’s connected. Hurt one part, and the whole thing suffers. Heal one part, and everything gets stronger. Started seeing systems differently after that.

Carrying Other People’s Stories

Here’s what nobody tells you about this job – you end up walking around with pieces of everyone you’ve tried to help. The mother in Zimbabwe who made me promise to remember her son’s name. The kid in Madagascar who actually believed our talks might change something.

Used to keep me awake at night. All that suffering, all those people counting on international cooperation to make their lives bearable. How do you carry that without going crazy?

Dharmalingam again: “Can’t carry the ocean, son. Just carry your cup of water.”

So I stopped trying to fix everything. Started focusing on the piece that was actually mine to handle. Made all the difference.

Learning to Fight (Sort Of)

Started Karate was a teenage after being bullied. Thought I needed to get tougher, learn to defend myself. Turns out it’s the opposite – learning to stay centered when everything’s falling apart.

Hotel room workouts became my thing. Kata practice in tiny spaces, finding balance on unstable ground. Sounds ridiculous, but it works. You learn to breathe when someone’s throwing punches at you; handling hostile questioning gets easier.

The philosophy stuck with me: it’s not about winning or losing; it’s about who you are when the pressure’s on. Changed how I approach everything.

That Day on the Beach

As a teenager, I remember, walking the beach at Beau Vallon reflecting on what lies ahead for me.

See this woman doing these flowing movements by the water. Looks like tai chi, but different. She notices me watching, smiles.

“Yoga,” she says. “My grandmother taught me. Ocean teaches you to bend without breaking.”

That conversation changed everything. Started practicing the next week. Not Instagram poses or expensive classes – just simple movements that helped me understand what Dharmalingam meant about balance.

Flexibility beats rigidity every time. In negotiations, in life, in everything.

What I’m Taking Into Retirement

People ask what I’ll miss. Not the flights, definitely not the meetings, probably not even the adrenaline rush of successful strategic plans and implementations.

But this thing I carry – Dharmalingam’s voice, the mixed-culture perspective, the morning routine that keeps me sane, the accumulated trust of people who shared their stories – this comes with me.

Next month I’m flying home to sit under that mango tree. Want to spend time with his memory, remember not just what he said but how he was in the world. Steady. Purpose. Unshakeable.

The Real Diplomatic Pouch

Thirty years of this job taught me something: the most important work laptop back isn’t the one going through security. It’s the invisible one you carry inside.

Mine’s got:

• An old man’s wisdom about finding quiet in chaos
• The ability to see from multiple angles at once
• Daily habits that anchor me no matter where I am
• Stories from people who trusted me with their hope
• A martial artist’s discipline and a yogi’s flexibility
• Stubborn belief that small acts of understanding matter

Sounds abstract until you’re in a room where people have been at odds with each other, and somehow you help them remember they’re all human.

The best part? This kind of cargo gets stronger the more you carry it. Share it, and you have more, not less.

Getting ready for my last official mission. Not worried about what comes next.

I’m carrying everything I need.

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About the Author: Thirty years with the UN, working toward the SDGs across Madagascar, Comoros, Mauritius, and the Seychelles. My grandfather Dharmalingam’s morning meditations under a mango tree somehow prepared me for international crisis management. These days I practice Kyokushin Karate, yoga, and the art of finding balance in chaos.