Rebel with a cause

He ran away from home at 14 hoping to earn a living playing the guitar on the streets. But he soon tired of it. He next apprenticed with a blacksmith. Then he heard of the famine in Africa ... and life changed. Lorraine Chandler comes face-to-face with the rebellious spirit of Fredéric Vigneau, MSF's UAE executive director.

It is said everyone wants to be a hero. But this is not true of Fredéric Vigneau, the newly-appointed UAE executive director of Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) - 'Doctors without Borders'.

When first approached for an interview, Vigneau appears baffled as to why anyone would be interested in his lifestory. I almost cancel the interview, thinking that his story is probably uneventful.

Fortunately, the interview comes through - as does Vigneau's life which seems like the stuff of movies, complete with a self-effacing protaganist.

He has been involved with MSF for almost 20 years, with much of those spent in war and famine-torn African countries, including Ethiopia, Somalia, Nigeria, Guinea and Uganda. He dedicated five years to developing a water project 760 metres above sea level in Ethiopia and, while there, married an Ethiopian translator he met in the bush.

Yet Vigneau appears almost irate at any interest in his personal life and prefers to focus on MSF and the work it does.

He sees himself as a simple man working for a greater good and has difficulty understanding how others may find the face behind the organisation and the personal story behind the public work fascinating.

Considering the tremendous work MSF has done, it's easy to understand Vigneau's viewpoint. An independent medical humanitarian organisation which in 1999 won the Nobel Peace Prize, MSF delivers emergency aid to people affected by war, epidemic and disaster in nearly 70 countries around the world.

Every year, 3,000 MSF volunteer doctors, nurses, logisticians, water and sanitation experts and other professionals depart on aid missions, supported by more than 20,000 locally hired staff.

Indeed, it's understandable why the 45-year-old Vigneau is passionate about his cause. Despite his slight build, he exudes a restless energy, matched only by his commitment to MSF, which he refers to as his "family".

My first impression of him is that of a creative director in an advertising agency, or perhaps an artist. His longish hair is tousled in the way that only good-looking men can get away with, and his sensuous French accent makes him easy on the ear.

While Vigneau is immensely passionate about his work, he's not inclined to take himself too seriously and feels that humility is key to the humanitarian work of MSF.

Despite being constantly faced with images and stories of death and disaster, he remains optimistic and level-headed.

I
I am what you would call a simple man.
I like remote places and discovering other ways of life, where nature is still an important part of life.

I'm an optimistic person. The world is cruel and unbalanced for the majority of people living in it, but I also acknowledge that it can be beautiful for those who know how to look at it in the right way.

I believe humility ...
... should always be at the front of your mind, no matter what your profession or ambition. It should be as big a part of you as possible. I try my best to be humble but nobody is perfect.

I feel MSF is really a family to me. Without it, I don't know what type of life I would have had, but I cannot think of any other life that would give me the opportunity to share so much with others. In some situations, there is so little medical care available that the only responsible ethical action is to take action.

I think you gain much more than you give when you work with different cultures.

Me
Me as a rebellious youth:
I was born in the small village of Rauzan, which is close to Bordeaux in France.

I grew up in Paris and wasn't an easy child to raise; I was always a bit of a rebel. I was expelled from five schools, for actions as varied as dismantling the toilet to dressing up as a woman.

I ran away from home aged about 14 and got as far as Spain, planning to earn my living playing guitar on the streets. That didn't last long. I grew up in the 1970s and was very influenced by the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin, blues, rock and later reggae, particularly
Bob Marley.

At 16, I left school and wanted to be a blacksmith because I was fascinated by iron and also loved the idea of working with horses. My apprenticeship involved going from town to town.

We had to live in a large group of individuals and were governed by strict rules, which didn't suit me at all. I ended up in front of the disciplinary committee and that was the end of that.

My father, who was an electronic engineer, got a contract in Tucson, Arizona (in the United States) so I went to join him. I arrived in New York aged 17, armed only with a guitar and the English language vocabulary I had learned in pop songs.

When I arrived at immigration and told them where I was going, they didn't understand me because I was saying "Tuck-sun" when I should have been saying "Too-sawn". Luckily, a fellow traveller helped me out.

While we were there, my father would take my brother and me to some pow wows, which are gatherings for (native Americans) which include rodeo shows. Since the age of about 14, I had been interested in people from different societies, particularly in (native Americans).

Only 100 years (earlier) much of Tucson had been populated by Apaches with their own rich history, who lost their land through a number of broken treaties, rather than the 'savagery' usually attributed to them. I thought it was sad no one was interested in (their traditions).

I spent over a year in Tucson and while there, I decided I wanted to live my life another way, to meet people from different cultures. On leaving the US (after crossing the continent by motorbike), I went to France, and then hitchhiked around Europe.

Me and Médecins Sans Frontières:
As a young person, I had a lot of utopian ideals. I felt I needed to do something with my life. I read a lot of anthropology and was interested in traditional medicine.

At the time (1985), there was famine in Africa and Bob Geldof had recently organised Live Aid. I loved the desert, and I approached Médecins Sans Frontières (about whether) they could use someone who had no medical background.

They told me they needed a logistician, after which they had to explain to me exactly what that was. They asked if I was good with my hands, and I was, so they took me on board (to work in Ethiopia).

MSF is unique because it asks its volunteers to speak out. We are a medical NGO (non-governmental organisation) and we respond to emergency situations created mainly by man-made crises.

The fact that our help is required indicates that failure has already occurred; there's been a famine or a large displacement of people and we need to respond to their immediate needs.

It is an activist organisation, from the medical point of view. No one will ever get rich working for MSF. Our doctors are paid just enough to survive and live wherever they are posted.

Me and my children:
Our daughter, Océane, is nearly 11, while our son Jonathon is 6. If you ask them where they're from, they'll say Ethiopia even though we left the country five years ago. Their mother has to tell them, "You're French too."

They love Ethiopian food, and speak Amharic with their mother. They speak French with me, and sometimes we all speak English together. We used to have Spanish in the loop too because we spent two years in Bocas del Toro, Panama (from 1999-2000).

It's important for me that they get a sense of our diversity as human beings, and I think they will be able to do that here in the UAE. We are all ready to make the effort to learn Arabic now.

Myself
Pride is important, but sometimes humility is necessary to help others live good lives. Would you say this is true?

It is important to have humility to live a proper life, and we should cultivate this in ourselves, because one can't always pretend one is the centre of the world.

If I relate humility to my own contribution, I don't expect anyone to thank me because I might get frustrated if they don't. I may not get verbal thanks, but I might get a smile and I also gain satisfaction from my work.

In MSF, we realise that receiving aid can be humiliating for the person receiving it. As the African saying goes: "The hand that gives is higher than the hand that receives." But regardless of that, we cannot ignore it when people are in need of help.

Is there any upsetting experience during your humanitarian work that stands out in your memory?
In Somalia, I felt that western politicians hijacked the humanitarian concept. When the Americans came in, there was a lot of money spent on the intervention, but most of it was used to help the military and administration function, rather than to help the people.

Although MSF had been there since the beginning of the problems in 1991, it was difficult for us to differentiate ourselves from the newcomers (who came in 1992), which was frustrating.

What were your best experiences with MSF?
Just being in Africa was tremendously rewarding. I really appreciate the opportunities I've had. As a non-medical person, it's been a privilege for me to participate in helping people fight against sickness.

In Mogadishu, we had hordes of people coming in trucks to be treated. Tragic though these events are, you can't help feeling a sense of accomplishment afterwards.

One of the most exciting projects I've been involved in was developing a water project in the middle of Ethiopia. We were around 2,500 feet (760 metres) above sea level, and water was very scarce before our project. The only way of getting around was by foot or donkey.

The women used to walk for five hours to collect water, and would carry over 35 litres of water on their back, walking across the mountains. I was head of the MSF mission in the Ethiopian highlands for five years, during which I shared life with the people there in a small village, helping lay the cement and pipes to make water more accessible.

If you walk alone in Ethiopia and you come to a hut, the farmer's wife will automatically take off your shoes and wash your feet. When you know how tough it is to get water, you can't help feeling embarrassed and you gain a sense of humility that stays with you for the rest of your life.

What was your toughest assignment?
Funny though it sounds, my most difficult assignment was in Switzerland, because I missed the action of the field.

The nature of your work is helping people in disaster zones. Do you ever find it difficult to handle?
Yes, it can be tough to deal constantly with crises. In the 1980s, MSF had an internal debate about whether we should get involved in long-term development, because it can be frustrating to work in a crisis and then wonder who is going to take over afterwards. That's why I'm involved in the water programme.

But there are already so many agencies and government bodies working on mid to long-term developmental projects and when we tried our hand at it we found we weren't as successful as we would have liked to be, and that our work would collapse when we left.

We at MSF have to acknowledge what we are good at. We have 30 years of experience giving quality care and efficient medication to people living in (crisis-stricken areas).

There is an emergency in Nigeria right now, with people dying of starvation despite rich harvests.

The consortium of decision makers - Nigerian authorities and United Nations donors - are addressing the issue of famine by looking not at people's nutritional deficiencies, but at the previous harvest. (They are) worried about destabilising the food market and quotas.

They argue they need to prevent disruption of long-term development by protecting the (food) market. But in the meantime, the poorest of the poor are dying. We can see this in our Therapeutic Feeding Centres.

Nigeria's Prime Minister (Olesugun Obasanjo) recently said free food distribution was an affront to the country's dignity, as if we should 'sacrifice' the children of today to envisage a better future tomorrow.

MSF spoke out about this. We made so much noise that the BBC, Al Jazeera and other media came to (look at) the situation.

Kofi Annan gave an interview in the Financial Times, saying, "When it is too late for prevention and a crisis has already erupted, emergency aid cannot be subordinated to some future good of future reliance." This is what we believe at MSF.

Do you think 'human rights' is ever championed at the expense of humanitarian actions?
Yes, the humanitarian concept was different 20 years ago. Around 1992, big donors from occidental countries stepped in. The US entered Somalia to respond to famine.

It was then that everyone started to have political agendas and humanitarianism became a victim of its own success, being manipulated by the powers that rule the world.

Many NGOs have to consider human rights as well as humanitarianism. This is dangerous because our role is not to advocate human rights, but to bring vital help to people. We only speak out when we are faced with situations that we can do nothing about.

In 1995, MSF was expelled from Ethiopia because the government said we were interfering with its actions. We were working in a camp that was forced to close each day at 6 pm, despite people dying outside.

The government had a big resettlement plan, taking people from the famine-stricken area of the north 1,000 km to the south, where there was a malaria epidemic and no facilities to treat people.

They were using food from Band Aid to move people away, separating husbands and wives, parents and children at the same time. The humanitarian aid was used to move the people by force. We denounced the misuse of the aid and said we couldn't work in these conditions.

Do you think MSF is a radical organisation?
Yes, we respond to the medical care of people in danger.

We often find ourselves helping those whom society has rejected or sacrificed, and we often have to face the hostility or indifference of others. Because I've always been a bit of a rebel, that part of MSF appeals to me.