bout de papier, Vol. 25, No. 2 (2010) — Summer 2010 // Été 2010, p. 15
It was with shock and great sadness that I learned of the passing of Guillaume Siemienski in Haiti on January 12. Guillaume was a CIDA employee on leave, working for the UN Stabilization Mission in Haiti. He was Head of Messaging, responsible for writing speeches and situational reports. He was one of the many victims of the shattered UN office which also claimed a CIDA consultant and two Canadian military officers.
A friend and former colleague, Guillaume served as a CIDA Development Officer at our embassies in Moscow, Bratislava and Ankara. From Ankara he moved to Tbilisi, Georgia, to work first with the OSCE mission and then with the UN Observer Mission in Georgia. No one was more surprised than Guillaume when, in summer 2009, this Eastern Europeanist transferred to the UN in Port au Prince, a move he described as “Mr. CIS goes Caribbean.”
I first met this jovial man in Ankara in 2004, but it was over the course of many visits to Tbilisi, Georgia where I really saw Guillaume in his element. An evening at a Georgian restaurant with him was always filled with thoughtful conversation, heartfelt toasts, humour, fine food and endless cups of Georgian wine. Dining with Guillaume was a treat. You could be certain that everyone in the restaurant wished they were at our table.
Not only was Guillaume passionate about his work, but his passion was truly contagious. You could join him in poring over a map of the former Soviet Union for hours, listening as he reminisced of his adventures there, and walk away feeling as though you had traveled those bumpy roads with him. Though he was ready to laugh at the many absurdities life served up in these parts of the world, you knew that he cared deeply about the places where he worked and the people that lived there – and felt a responsibility to help in whatever way he could.
Committed as he was to making a difference, for Guillaume, work and play were inseparably intertwined. Once, as I walked towards the OSCE headquarters in Tbilisi, I caught a glimpse of someone stepping out onto the second floor balcony. And then I heard him singing. Deep, operatic notes billowing over the gardens. I can say with certainty that I have never received such a rapturous welcome in my life.
What Guillaume cared about more than anything was his wife Maka and their two sons Christopher and Martin. The very mention of their names would spark a glow of happiness in his eyes. It was clear that Guillaume felt he was the luckiest man in the world. His luck may have run out in Haiti, but those of us that knew him count ourselves lucky, and thankful, for his positive spirit, gentle personality and all the laughter we shared. He is greatly missed.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 25, No. 2 (2010) — Summer 2010 // Été 2010, p. 15. Read the rest of this issue →
