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!