Chicken heads and wrinkled dates

Abéché, le 24 septembre 2007

I’m extremely tired this evening. It’s been a long day and not without a certain level of frustration. Plus it’s boiling hot and I would love to jump into a cold lake right now, preferably Matheson Lake on Vancouver Island… ah, what a wonderful thought!

But alas, that will have to wait, and I will simply have to content myself with my nice cool shower once I’ve finished this blog. That is, if the city doesn’t decide to cut off the water supply again.

I finally went to the market on Saturday, and well, the experience was unique to say the least. I was the only white person there, so you can imagine the level of attention I received. My two local colleagues introduced me to all our primary produce suppliers – most of whom were relatives of the house staff. That’s how it works here: you give first dibs to your sister, your brother, cousin, uncle, cousin of uncle, brother-in-law, etc. I don’t mind as long as the prices are reasonable and the produce is good. Speaking of produce, the variety is very limited. We live in the desert so everything has to be imported either from southern Chad where it’s a little more tropical, or from neighbouring Cameroon. I think the only veggies that grow here are tomatoes, cucumber, lettuce, potatoes; and then there are rice, melon and dates. The rest – eggplants, beets, avocadoes, beans, apples, oranges, pineapple, green pepper, etc. – all have to be imported which makes prices exorbitant and only once in a while do we treat ourselves to fruit and imported veggies. I was delighted to see beets and asked the vendor how much they were. She handed me one shrivelled beet and said 2,000 CFA. Translated, that would be about $4 CAD. I didn’t even try to argue and just walked away. I’m not that desperate for variety. Not yet. And my colleague said she had inflated only slightly, and that I had to consider the long trip the beet had made from Cameroon. No wonder it was so shrivelled. I’ve been told that Chad is the most expensive country in Africa with regards to cost of living, including food. But sadly, the average income does not correspond to daily expenses, so people struggle quite a bit.

What is cheap here is meat, that’s why we eat so much of it here, and this is also why I’ve had to give up my vegetarian habits for now because aside from red lentils which I bought at the market, there is no other source of protein. The novelty of eating beef is slowly wearing off. It is part of our meal EVERY SINGLE DAY. I know I shouldn’t complain because there are many families here in Abéché who would like to eat as well as we do. But once in a while, I can’t help crave a nice big bowl of pasta with a healthy mountain of cheese or a fat veggie burger, also with lots of cheese.

A few minutes into my arrival at the market, my two colleagues led me into a hall where all the skinned beef, camel, goats, and sheep were hanging from beams. And in a big large square circle, men had set up their tables and were chopping off legs and heads and other parts from the bodies and selling them to clients. Considering my very herbivorous life before Chad, it was a bit of a shocking sight for me, so I left quite suddenly only to witness another man outside sawing off the head of a chicken, the body still twitching. He had set up a station, and his job all day long was to saw off chicken heads. And among all this hustle and bustle, a Muslim cleric was praising the teachings of Islam to group of young men and boys, and after each message, they all sang in unison: There is only one God, and Mohammed was his Prophet.

I was hoping to find some nice juicy dates, just like the ones we used to get from Turkey when we still lived in Germany - the ones that melt on your tongue and ooze fruit sugar when you squish a little. My darling driver Mahamat had told me about the delicious dates his family eats at night when they sit down for their feast after fasting all day for Ramadan. One day I gave him money and asked him to find me those famous dates, and he came back the next day with a big bag and in it were I don’t know how many dates – maybe 200 of them – shrivelled and as hard as chestnuts. I’m still not quite sure how they eat them. I never asked him and just gave them to our cook who gratefully accepted. I was hoping to find some softer ones at the market, but sadly, they all look and feel the same.

Speaking of my driver, he has two wives, which is few according to Muslim tradition here in Chad. But then, he is only 37 and still has time to look elsewhere and earn enough money to pay the family if he were to marry again. His first wife is 25 and she has 7 children, can you imagine? I’m turning 30 this year and they tell me I’m an old maid, ha ha. Anyway, the second wife is younger, and she’s there “for pleasure,” because the first one is too busy with the children. No kidding. One of our other drivers has 17 children; I’m not sure how many wives he has, but it must be at least three. I don’t have anything against polygamy – it’s their way of life – but when you have one wife for baby raising and one wife for pleasure, I don’t think that’s fair because it’s not really the first wife’s fault that she keeps on popping out babies. I’m sure she would enjoy some pleasure, too…

Anyway, I can’t even tell you the animated conversations I have here with my male colleagues about the rights of women and girls… I’m amused most of the time, but sometimes I just shake my head and stop arguing. I will never be able to convince them otherwise. And now I’m going to take my nice cold shower because it’s simply too hot to write anymore! Good night, bonne nuit, gute Nacht!

Allahu Akbar

Le 20 septembre 2007

I know I’ve already written about the frogs here, but I have to write about them just one more time because they really crack me up. Every morning and evening das gleiche Theater! High traffic in and out of the house, although I’ve managed to keep them out of my room by catching them at the entrance way. At night, when there is hardly any light in the house, or especially when there is a power outage – which happens often – I have to watch my step because they’re everywhere! To my left, to the right, in front of me; it’s like I’m on the highway or something except that they don’t respect lanes.

Next to the TV there is a little table where every evening, around 10 frogs assemble. I finally figured out why: above the TV is a bright neon light which attracts hundreds of tiny flies, and once they drop dead (probably because they fried to death) and land on the floor right behind the little table, the frogs have a feast. Now that they have a purpose in our house, I quite enjoy their presence, although I do fear that I will step on one of the one of these days. And then who will eat the frog?

I’m finally starting to grow into my role at CARE. I basically oversee all the administrative staff, the guards, the drivers, etc. I also take care of contracts – contract renewals, contracts with construction companies to build latrines in refugee camps for example, making sure that goods are delivered to the camps on time, staff leave, and all other aspects that ensure the office operation runs smoothly. In two weeks I will visit a few of the refugee camps CARE manages around a town called Iriba, just east of here closer to the Darfur border. When you spend so much time in an office, it’s easy to forget what cause you’re working for, so these types of visits are important to me.

My work day begins at 7:30 a.m. and I generally leave at 6 p.m. Saturday is a work day here too or at least half the day. Once 9 p.m. rolls around, I’m so pooped that I go to bed. It’s the heat I tell you. Unbelievable how people can live in these conditions year in year out… I guess they’re used to it. I’m slowly adjusting, but it’ll take another few weeks before I don’t sweat just breathing.

I have to write about the men here. How they hold hands with each other in the streets as they stroll among dozing donkies and diesel-spewing motorcycles made in Taiwan. Even though I’ve done a fair bit of travelling, it’s still such an unusual sight for me, especially when I see a young man carrying a Kalashnikov holding his friend’s hand, I just can’t help but smile at the paradox. A man who symbolizes such force and who at the same time is capable of displaying such a gesture of affection… it’s endearing.

Saturday I plan on going to the market to see what veggies and fruits we can buy for the house. I look forward to walking a little, after spending so much time at the office or at home. It’s easy to feel confined with the curfew. Ramadan is in its full course. I drove pas the market this evening and it was a party – whole goats and sheep and cows roasting and children running around, music playing. This is what they wait for all day. Come 1 p.m., my staff start looking at their watches and concentration diminishes to a frustrating level. I can’t imagine going through that! I who love eating and who start feeling faint if I haven’t eaten by 1 p.m. And no water in this heat is completely unimaginable for me!

Men pray five times a day. I often see them standing in a row or on their knees reciting Allahu Albar – God is great – over and over again. The devotion is immense and I wonder how people so dedicated to prayer are capable of such cruelty towards their own men, women and children.

There is not a single traffic light in Abéché. If you cross an intersection, you honk until everyone sees you’re coming. I’ve seen a few close calls, especially with donkies who will only move once you touch them with your vehicles. There are also no street signs here, not a single one. When you have to describe to someone where to pick you up, you either tell them what building you’re next to, i.e. the Red Cross and if you’re lucky they know where that is, or you tell them to take the main road north, pass the bridge, to the right is the white tower of one of the mosques, turn right, second house on the left, something like that. Once night falls, it’s nearly impossible top find anything because they’re no lights. It took friends of mine 45 minutes to find me last night because none of the landmarks made sense. I ended up asking one of the guards to walk me to an antenna that had three red lights on it. And that is finally where they found me.

My dear cook’s eldest daughter died on Sunday which made me feel very sad. His eyes were filled with tears when he told us, so I hugged him, which is totally un-customary here, but I couldn’t help myself. She was only 17, and nobody really knows what she died of. It could have been AIDS, or Malaria… He’s taken 10 days off to mourn. I wish I could give him more. And then my other colleague’s uncle died on Tuesday, and he was only 35 and nobody knows the cause of death either. There are no doctors to perform diagnoses like in Canada. Death is just accepted as part of life; it happens so much here, so easily, just like that. One of the Chadian nurses here told me that not too long ago, the national government launched a campaign against condoms claiming that they were responsible for the spread of HIV and AIDS. It’s astounding how deep cultural traditions run in this country. It is simply not acceptable to use unnatural methods of contraception. No thinking goes beyond that, and the people have to deal with the consequences.

My stomach problems have subsided completely. After two weeks of suffering, I took a fabulously high dose of antibiotics as prescribed by my Canadian travel doctor and that put a definite end to my uncomfortable condition. I’m a lot happier now. My finger has healed too.

Have I already mentioned that I never speak English here? All communication is done in French and Arabic, except that I don’t speak Arabic, so it’s all in French for me. Strange not to speak any English… I found it hard at the beginning, but now I’m starting to think in French and my staff try to teach me new Arabic words every day. I think they appreciate my effort and I appreciate their patience.

I’m off to bed now. It’s searingly hot in my room and I have no idea how I will fall asleep, but I somehow managed last night. I usually place a wet cloth on my face. It also helps with the dust.

Missing you all. Thank you for your comments and e-mails. Even though I have little time to respond individually, I love getting updates and hearing about life back in my beautiful home country – Canada. You mean a lot to me.

Xoxoxo, Anne

Sleepy donkeys

14 septembre 2007

It’s another very hot evening in Abéché and I can hardly move. The crickets are chirping again loudly tonight – I don’t think they actually ever stop – and there three baby fist-sized frogs that come into the dining room every evening through this hole at the bottom of the wall and leave again later on. Sometimes they go as far as into my bedroom. Last night, one of them spent the night under my bed because he/she wouldn’t leave. I’ve already had two praying mantises land on me in the last hour, and I’m sure they’re not the last creatures to use me as a spring board. Throughout all my travels, I have never had so many bugs crawl on and over me, but I’m starting to not care anymore. They don’t hurt. They’re just a little annoying, especially when they get jammed in your ear like one did earlier on today. I think it’s still in my ear actually, but not alive anymore…

So I have finally arrived in Abéché, der Po der Welt. Aside from the incredibly interesting jagged mountains in the far distance, there is not much to admire sadly. Because of the somewhat peculiar security situation the curfew is 8 p.m. so venturing out into the wilderness is not exactly something they recommend here. My daily panorama is the (very) bumpy road we take from our compound to the office about 10 minutes away. Hundreds of goats roam the dusty streets, and donkeys serve as transportation of people and goods. It’s actually quite charming, although I’m not sure how much longer the charm will last.

I’ve had my first case of serious digestive problems. It must be something I ate back in N’Djaména cause that is when it started. I was in so much agony last night that for the fist time since I’ve left Canada I actually felt sorry for myself;-) It happens to many of us travellers… And to top it all off, our neighbours’ dog barked all night, or rather howled, and if I had had a stick, I would have given him a nice solid spanking. So this morning I moved into another part of the compound cause apparently, this dog barks almost all year round and drives the neighbourhood bonkers.

I’m having a hell of a time learning all of my colleagues’ names: Abdullayeh Ahmat Ali, Hassan Mohammet Abdullah, etc. They all sound so similar and it will take me a while to get on top of things. Plus each name is an indicator for the clan and region they belong to. It’s quite interesting, and I’m learning a lot about the region. Ramadan began yesterday, so my Muslim colleagues are all extremely tired. Not only are they not allowed to eat from sunrise to sunset, but also no drop of water. And when you consider how hot it is during the day, not drinking water is quite severe and can be dangerous. Average temperature this time of the year is 35 Celsius. On our way home for lunch today, I saw dozens and dozens of men and boys dozing under the trees along the street. There is nothing else you can do in this temperature. I can’t wait for the nights to start cooling down because we have no air conditioning in our house and sleeping in 28 degrees is not easy. I usually take a shower and don’t dry off and go to bed wearing the bare minimum or nothing.

I’ve completely abandoned my vegetarianism because I would not survive here if I insisted. I didn’t even try. Chicken and beef are my only source of protein, so I’ve succumbed and I’m starting to enjoy the texture and taste of both. For desert we usually have watermelon which grows here in abundance. Once the dry season starts fruit will become a luxury.

Work is challenging on many levels, but I’m enjoying it and I really like the people I work with. We have a staff of approximately 85 staff, which includes drivers, house personnel, guards, etc. And of those 85, three are female, one being me and the other two the secretary and our cook at the house. Quite unusual circumstances…

Ok, I’m off to bed now. Here we work on Saturdays too. Oh, a green bug just landed on my check. Told you.
Kisses to you all,
Anne

Shaking hands with loacls...

10 septembre 2007 - toujours à N'Djaména...

I thought Iowa had the biggest skies I had ever seen, but what I saw yesterday as we drove along the paved highway north of N'Djaména towards Lake Chad was even grander and awe-inspiring. Endless, endless skies... and because we've nearly reached the end of the rainy season, the fields are lush and healthy. Once you reach the outskirts of the city, which doesn't take long, you start passing village after village and little houses made either cement or mud bricks. And outside of every village stands a mosque for prayer. One of my favourite sights were three women draped in brilliant colours walking next to each other through a field of green carrying firewood on their heads - the sun was shining directly onto them. No photo could have captured that, although I did try.

The photo ops are endless here, but I don't like to invade people's space, so I just take in all these beautiful images mentally. I'm sure you all feel like that when you travel.

We stoped in a place called Douguia, right next to the river that separates Chad from Cameroun, and took a ride in a zodiac, passing waving chilren and grazing goats. We also saw a hipo and her baby, although because of convervation laws we didn't dare get too close.

The sun here starts setting at 6 p.m., and once it's gone, there is nothing. No lights, just the darkest of dark. On our way back into the city, one of the people in our group (there were 8 of us) who is a local invited us to have supper with his second wife's family in a village called Massakory, just north-east of N'Djaména. It is those spontaneous moments I cherish the most: when my world meets theirs, when nothing but a hand shake and a smile are the only common language we share. We entered the village just as the sun was starting to set and were immediately surrounded by around 40 children who had - I believe - never before seen a foreigner. Some of them smiled, but mostly, they looked at us curiously, and we looked at them. For about five minutes - the time it took our local friend to announce our visit - we just stood there looking at each other. The evening light was golden, and those faces just so beautiful I wish you could have seen them. I eventually pulled out my camera and asked if I was allowed to take pictures, and they said yes. And then things got lively. The girls started pointing at my eyes - they had never seen blue eyes - and my blond hair. And they screamed when I played back the photos on my screen and everyone started laughing.

We eventually stepped into the family's compound and they closed the gates. Our friend's uncle invited us into his house where we proceeded to take a seat on the carpeted floor and ate delicious roasted chicken, and eggs cooked in garlic water. It took my eyes a while to get used to the darkness, but once they did, I saw that we were surrounded by beautifully carved wooden shelves with glass doors, and behind them glasses and places! Such a contrast - here we are in the middle of nowhere, in a brick house, and their living room looks more elegant than mine back in Ottawa! We ate in silence...

On our way out, we were introduced to the uncle's children - his youngest daughter started howling when she saw me because she was afraid of my eyes. Considering I love children so much, that is quite devastating for me. The same thing happened in Indonesia where a little boy sobbed so heart-breakingly when he saw me that I nearly started crying too.

We left just as the sun had set. It took us about one hour to get back into the city. And because the air was so hazy, there was not a single star to illuminate the road on the way back. I spent the entire trip back speaking to our local friend about the way families are set up, how many women a man is allowed to marry, in which clans female circumcision is still tradition, etc. So interesting, so frustrating, so foreign to me, especially when it comes to women's rights. But I can't argue with them - I don't even try - because this is their culture, and we have our own, and nobody tries to change the way we do things either. Changes will come from within clans, the more women speak up. In many places, they already are.

I have one day left here in N'Djaména before I head to Abéché Wednesday morning. I'm happy to have had this time in the city. Off to dinner now.

Xo, Anne

Chad - the journey begins...

September 8, 2007 - N'Djaména
Hello from Chad! I have arrived safely and am trying to get used to the paralyzing heat that is sucking the energy out of my limbs... I was told yesterday that this was cool compared to the wet season which begins in March and hear this: temperatures rise up to 50 degrees Celsius!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? I repeat: 50 degrees! I can't even imagine. Apparently Chad is one of the hottest places on this planet. Welcome to Africa...

So where do I begin? This place is definitely something else. Nothing I have seen so far during my travels compares to this. The streets are packed with people and motorbikes, cars honking, men pushing carts… its so busy that you can’t drive more than 20 kms per hour, and there is not a single traffic light in the capital city so people are crossing wherever and if you don’t know how to drive slalom, you shouldn’t drive cause you’ll inevitably hit someone. When you drive a little off the main road, you see garbage dumps the size of swimming pools, where children and skinny goats dig for food... The air smells like burning garbage and diesel, and there is military. But among all this exists such vibrancy that you could think this place was as safe as any town. Despite the poverty, women are draped in the most beautiful colours - so brilliant, so beautiful. And their white smiles are like sunshine. Yesterday I saw a family of 5 riding on one motorcycle, that’s normal.

I am still in N'Djaména (the capital city) because all the UN charter flights to Abéché (where I will be stationed for the next 6 months) are full, so I have to wait until Wednesday. I felt a little anxious at first because I'm staying in a hotel where they serve neither lunch nor supper; and I can't go out on my own because it’s not exactly safe for a young blond chick, so I depend on people to accompany me. Luckily, I've met most of the CARE staff in the city, who are all so lovely, and I've been able to tag along with them every day. I've become friends with a girl named Jennifer who is originally from Peterborough and absolutely delightful. Tomorrow we’re going on a little road trip to a park north west of the city.

Yesterday afternoon I visited a camp that CARE has set up for child soldiers. In case you don’t know what exactly that means, they are children that were taken from their homes – sometimes forcibly – by rebel groups who train them to use weapons, and in Chad’s case, fight the government. The history behind all this fighting is so complicated that I won’t even attempt to explain because I know very little myself. There are between 7,000 and 10,000 child soldiers in Chad fighting for various groups. The camp I visited yesterday has 100 former child soldiers that CARE brought up to the capital city to reintegrate them into society. Some were only three years old when the rebel groups recruited them… it’s so sad. These kids have yet to experience what true childhood is. Not all of them were engaged in combat, some were used as cooks, cleaners, etc. It’s the older boys who had to fight. I looked at a few drawings a child had made of his previous life down south. They were sketches of army trucks and guns. Some of these children don’t sleep well at night because of nightmares. They get psychosocial support here from CARE thank goodness, so that helps. But despite their past, they have beautiful faces and smiles, and I hope they will be able to resolve their internal conflict and become innocent again – and happy.

We have interesting creatures here – big lizards with yellow bodies and blue heads and tails – and iguanas, and they all run around like the squirrels do in Ottawa. I have to be careful not to step on them! And frogs who are so tiny, that you actually do step on them because they blend in so nicely with the earth. Some are as small as the nail on your pinky!

The food in N’Djamena is good. We have lots of fish here because of the river that separates Chad from Cameroun. The best fish so far is le capitaine – it has the texture of bocconcini. They serve it with rice and green beens. During the dry season you can walk over the riverbed to Cameroun, but the river is very high at this time of the year because we’re nearing the end of the wet season. Malaria is rampant, so I’m very happy to be on Malarone. My feet are burning from bites!

I cut my finger terribly yesterday while looking for my hair brush in my toiletries bag. Instead of my hair brush, I came out empty handedly with blood gushing out of my finger after slicing half my Fingerkuppe off with my razor. I had to put five bandades on my finger, which got drenched after five minutes and then change the bandades every hour. So typing is going very slowly right now because I can’t use my index finger.

I think I will be very happy here, although times ahead in Abeche won’t be easy. There is really nothing at all, and on top of that the curfew is 8 p.m.! Not a single restaurant either… I’m glad I brought so many books. And I brought knitting needles, too, so I could teach my house keepers to knit, but I forgot to bring wool… maybe they sell some here in N’Djamena. Although, with this heat, I’m not sure if anyone even knows what wool is! We’ll see.

I like the CARE staff and feel very lucky to have this opportunity to work with these people. I look forward to learning more about the country and its history even though it has never known a period of peace. But I know that even among such grief are beautiful stories of survival and courage, and it is those people who will bring their country back onto its feet.

Lots of love to you. I hope you are all well. I feel lucky to have such wonderful friends all over the world. Will write more soon…
Xoxo, Anne