Abéché, 6 octobre 2007
I just heard our cook kill a chicken in the kitchen, and let me tell you, it’s not a pretty sound. I don’t understand why they can’t just chop the head off with an axe. It would be so much less painful. Anyway, and now I’m supposed to eat that chicken for supper tonight. I think I might have lost my appetite…
So I meant to tell you all about my market experience in Cameroun last weekend. What a zoo! And what a complete contrast in atmosphere compared to Chad which, as you might already know, is a military state. I didn’t see a single weapon; people were more relaxed and I was allowed to take photos (something that is strictly prohibited in Abéché, unless you pay an exorbitant amount of money of course). We were five women – my friend and colleague Jenn, her cook, the cook’s (very pregnant) 15-year-old daughter and cousin. The drive over the border was a non-event. I was hoping to get my passport stamped, but they didn’t even stop the car… and then it was just a maze of donkey-pulled carts, cars, motorbikes, people on bicycles, men pulling carts, women carrying baskets of goods on their heads, children selling phone cards, goats running around, women selling goods on the side of the road, music and clouds of diesel exhaust. Ahhh diesel. It’s all they use here, and yearly check-ups for vehicles don’t exist, so you will see cars in any stage of their life span driving on the streets of Chad and Cameroun.
The day was so hot, I don’t think I have ever sweat this much in my life. The water was pouring down my back so that it looked like I had urinated into my pants. In the 4 hours that we were there, I drank about 3 litres of water and went to the bathroom only once. The rest I discharged through my pores… We started off at the fruit and veggie market. My intention was to purchase small loads of mangoes and avocados, etc. – things you can only get at outrageous prices up in Abéché – but I was so distracted by the heat that my brain stopped functioning and I lost all desire to buy anything. But I did observe the whole commotion with great interest and asked many questions. Kids kept on coming up to me: “donnez-moi un cadeau, donnez-moi un cadeau,” but I just smiled at them and shook my head. The concept of giving a present here is very different from what I consider it to be in my culture. I like to give when it’s not expected of me… But that is something I can’t explain to them.
My favourite part of the morning was our visit to the fabric shop, even though it smelled very potently of moth balls. I decided to have something tailor made for me, so I bought two beautiful large pieces of material and found someone in N’Djaména to make me two dresses. While I was waiting for Jenn to choose material she liked, I sat down on a bench just outside the store totally exhausted from the heat, holding on to my water bottle as though it were a gift of God, watching people go by, and I noticed that nobody was sweating. How is that possible? I look like I’ve just come out of the shower and peed in my pants and these people are wearing jeans and long garments and head scarves, it’s just incredible. And here I was thinking about where to get my next bottle of water… A grandfather sat next to me on the bench with a black plastic bag, and after straightening out his Muslim dress, he gently opened the bad and pulled out two very, very tacky baby dresses, one pink, one yellow, unfolded them, looked at them admiringly, then pulled out two very tiny matching pairs of underwear, unfolded them, looked at them admiringly, folded everything again and placed them back into the bag, smiled at himself and left again. I hope I’ve painted the picture vividly enough… I just loved the sight of this conservative looking man in Muslim dress unfolding and folding bright pink and yellow girls underwear. So sweet.
Eventually we got hungry and made our way to a local hangout where they served fish and chicken with plantain or fries, and dole. For those who have never had dole (it was my first time), it looks a bit like spinach when it’s cooked and tastes like it too, but is a bit bitter. I couldn’t finish my dish, it was simply too much, and then I was so ready for a siesta – we all were – that we decided to call it a day and returned to N’Djaména. I did manage to buy things like olive oil and vinaigrette and canned coconut milk to make a curry. The others came back with a much larger loot!
Jenn and I were invited into her cook’s compound when we dropped her off at home and we had a chance to meet her family, which was such a privilege because it’s not that often you get to see what goes on behind those brick and mud walls. She has 9 children. Three of which are hers, and the six others are of her deceased sisters and one brother. I’ve stopped asking for the cause of death, first of all it’s not polite, but second of all nobody never really knows. I presume that 50% of the time it’s either malaria or AIDS. Both diseases are a major problem here. Speaking of malaria, I had my first taste of it this weekend. The symptoms vary, and I was lucky because I’ve been taking Malarone - a preventative medication – since my arrival, so I suffered only mildly and all I experienced was total exhaustion to the point where I couldn’t talk anymore and intense muscle pain and head ache. A nurse came by yesterday and gave me pain killers and then I slept all day yesterday and all night and most of the day today and don’t have any pain anymore. Am just very tired still.
Back to N’Djaména though. The next day, Jenn and I went to the pool at the Meridian hotel which is a whole other world for me because there are no pools in Abéché, and we ordered martinis and lay in our chaises longues overlooking the river that separated Chad from Cameroun. It was simply heavenly. I know I’ve been in Chad for only a month and I shouldn’t complain, but the sensation of feeling deprived happens very quickly here in the desert, so going down to N’Djaména for the weekend is seriously like going to Paris.
We decided to go dancing that night at a club called Le VIP. Not only were we the only white girls there, there were maybe 10 other girls there in total. The ratio men/women was about 20 to 1, and I’m not exaggerating. Contrary to all my other club experiences, we would have been hit on immediately, and although we did get a lot of attention, it was the girls that came dancing with us, one of them being a very pregnant girl who proceeded to imitate my very basic dance moves, which I thought was cute because I think the way African women dance is a lot sexier. She danced in front of me for some time, all the while smiling at me. And it was only when she went behind me and placed her hands on my belly (and her pregnant belly piercing my back) and she started kissing my neck in utter delight that I realized that this was not just a simple and friendly way for African girls to dance with one another, but that she was flirting with me! So I gently took her hands off my waist and managed to avoid her for the rest of the night. Jenn and I left fairly early because people started getting drunk and we could feel tension rising in the air. I’m glad we went because the music was absolutely amazing – mostly from Cameroun and Côte d’Ivoire – but it was good we left when we did.
Only one week left until the end of Ramadan, and let me tell you, everyone is counting the days, including I. It hasn’t been easy seeing people so hungry and thirsty all the time, and working under these conditions is nearly impossible. I arrived in Abéché just two days before Ramadan started, so that is all I know and I’ve had to really lower my expectations because hungry and tired people just don’t work well. I know that from myself. It’s been a very difficult time, also because I had no assistant to help me, but that situation has now thankfully changed because my new assistant arrived on Thursday and has already has lots of admin experience with CARE. This means I now have the freedom to go out to the refugee camps, which I have been looking forward to since my arrival. I want to see what CARE is doing and how these people are living and what their stories are. It will also be nice to see other parts of the country, especially the mountains out east and in the north. A few of us are actually planning a little day trip to a village 50 kilometres north of here next Sunday for my (30th!) birthday, and we might see some nomads on the way. And apparently the mountains are spectacular. The town (I’ve forgotten the name) used to be a thriving little municipality with a glorious mosque until they ran out of water a few years ago and completely deserted the place. What remains are mostly ruins, but some say the feeling is still special. I want to see.
I try to learn a bit of Chadian Arabic every day, but it’s not exactly the easiest language. I love it though and I would love to be able to converse in another language aside from French. Speaking of French, I still have a hell of a time understanding some of my colleagues! I can confidently say that I am fluent in French, but it happens not exactly seldom that I simply not understand a single word that comes out of their mouths. When that happens, I let them talk on for a while hoping that at some point I will be able to get the sense of what they’re trying to say to me. I’ll even repeat words. But then comes that silent pause, and I know I’m supposed to comment on what they just said, and I just smile and then say: “je m’excuse mais je n’ai absolument rien compris de ce que vous venez de dire.” And instead of getting impatient with me, they just throw their heads back, give a little giggle and repeat, sometimes up to four times, what they had just said. And even then, it’s not unusual that I will still only get the very basic gist of what they just said. The problem lies mostly in the difference of accents, but it also lies in the sequence at which the sentences come out of their mouths. They probably think the exact same way about my way of speaking and I swear sometimes I can have a full conversation with a colleague of mine and we talk totally past each other the entire time. As you can imagine, that adds a whole other level of difficulty to my work.
I know I’ve already mentioned how lovely my colleagues are, but I just want to say it again because they simply are! I missed one day of work because of being sick and I don’t know how many called me yesterday and even today to see how I was. Even the guy who fixes our computers called me today to see how I was! And some showed up at the house this afternoon to ask about my health, and all of them told me that they were sending me good health: “je vous envoie de la santé.” So so sweet. That would never happen back home… It really moved me. You know, health here is the most important thing. When you meet a friend down town, you always ask how he is, and how the family’s health is, and the father and the mother, etc. Nobody ever asks about money.
I feel tired again, so I think it’s time for another nap! Will write again soon, I promise…
I just heard our cook kill a chicken in the kitchen, and let me tell you, it’s not a pretty sound. I don’t understand why they can’t just chop the head off with an axe. It would be so much less painful. Anyway, and now I’m supposed to eat that chicken for supper tonight. I think I might have lost my appetite…
So I meant to tell you all about my market experience in Cameroun last weekend. What a zoo! And what a complete contrast in atmosphere compared to Chad which, as you might already know, is a military state. I didn’t see a single weapon; people were more relaxed and I was allowed to take photos (something that is strictly prohibited in Abéché, unless you pay an exorbitant amount of money of course). We were five women – my friend and colleague Jenn, her cook, the cook’s (very pregnant) 15-year-old daughter and cousin. The drive over the border was a non-event. I was hoping to get my passport stamped, but they didn’t even stop the car… and then it was just a maze of donkey-pulled carts, cars, motorbikes, people on bicycles, men pulling carts, women carrying baskets of goods on their heads, children selling phone cards, goats running around, women selling goods on the side of the road, music and clouds of diesel exhaust. Ahhh diesel. It’s all they use here, and yearly check-ups for vehicles don’t exist, so you will see cars in any stage of their life span driving on the streets of Chad and Cameroun.
The day was so hot, I don’t think I have ever sweat this much in my life. The water was pouring down my back so that it looked like I had urinated into my pants. In the 4 hours that we were there, I drank about 3 litres of water and went to the bathroom only once. The rest I discharged through my pores… We started off at the fruit and veggie market. My intention was to purchase small loads of mangoes and avocados, etc. – things you can only get at outrageous prices up in Abéché – but I was so distracted by the heat that my brain stopped functioning and I lost all desire to buy anything. But I did observe the whole commotion with great interest and asked many questions. Kids kept on coming up to me: “donnez-moi un cadeau, donnez-moi un cadeau,” but I just smiled at them and shook my head. The concept of giving a present here is very different from what I consider it to be in my culture. I like to give when it’s not expected of me… But that is something I can’t explain to them.
My favourite part of the morning was our visit to the fabric shop, even though it smelled very potently of moth balls. I decided to have something tailor made for me, so I bought two beautiful large pieces of material and found someone in N’Djaména to make me two dresses. While I was waiting for Jenn to choose material she liked, I sat down on a bench just outside the store totally exhausted from the heat, holding on to my water bottle as though it were a gift of God, watching people go by, and I noticed that nobody was sweating. How is that possible? I look like I’ve just come out of the shower and peed in my pants and these people are wearing jeans and long garments and head scarves, it’s just incredible. And here I was thinking about where to get my next bottle of water… A grandfather sat next to me on the bench with a black plastic bag, and after straightening out his Muslim dress, he gently opened the bad and pulled out two very, very tacky baby dresses, one pink, one yellow, unfolded them, looked at them admiringly, then pulled out two very tiny matching pairs of underwear, unfolded them, looked at them admiringly, folded everything again and placed them back into the bag, smiled at himself and left again. I hope I’ve painted the picture vividly enough… I just loved the sight of this conservative looking man in Muslim dress unfolding and folding bright pink and yellow girls underwear. So sweet.
Eventually we got hungry and made our way to a local hangout where they served fish and chicken with plantain or fries, and dole. For those who have never had dole (it was my first time), it looks a bit like spinach when it’s cooked and tastes like it too, but is a bit bitter. I couldn’t finish my dish, it was simply too much, and then I was so ready for a siesta – we all were – that we decided to call it a day and returned to N’Djaména. I did manage to buy things like olive oil and vinaigrette and canned coconut milk to make a curry. The others came back with a much larger loot!
Jenn and I were invited into her cook’s compound when we dropped her off at home and we had a chance to meet her family, which was such a privilege because it’s not that often you get to see what goes on behind those brick and mud walls. She has 9 children. Three of which are hers, and the six others are of her deceased sisters and one brother. I’ve stopped asking for the cause of death, first of all it’s not polite, but second of all nobody never really knows. I presume that 50% of the time it’s either malaria or AIDS. Both diseases are a major problem here. Speaking of malaria, I had my first taste of it this weekend. The symptoms vary, and I was lucky because I’ve been taking Malarone - a preventative medication – since my arrival, so I suffered only mildly and all I experienced was total exhaustion to the point where I couldn’t talk anymore and intense muscle pain and head ache. A nurse came by yesterday and gave me pain killers and then I slept all day yesterday and all night and most of the day today and don’t have any pain anymore. Am just very tired still.
Back to N’Djaména though. The next day, Jenn and I went to the pool at the Meridian hotel which is a whole other world for me because there are no pools in Abéché, and we ordered martinis and lay in our chaises longues overlooking the river that separated Chad from Cameroun. It was simply heavenly. I know I’ve been in Chad for only a month and I shouldn’t complain, but the sensation of feeling deprived happens very quickly here in the desert, so going down to N’Djaména for the weekend is seriously like going to Paris.
We decided to go dancing that night at a club called Le VIP. Not only were we the only white girls there, there were maybe 10 other girls there in total. The ratio men/women was about 20 to 1, and I’m not exaggerating. Contrary to all my other club experiences, we would have been hit on immediately, and although we did get a lot of attention, it was the girls that came dancing with us, one of them being a very pregnant girl who proceeded to imitate my very basic dance moves, which I thought was cute because I think the way African women dance is a lot sexier. She danced in front of me for some time, all the while smiling at me. And it was only when she went behind me and placed her hands on my belly (and her pregnant belly piercing my back) and she started kissing my neck in utter delight that I realized that this was not just a simple and friendly way for African girls to dance with one another, but that she was flirting with me! So I gently took her hands off my waist and managed to avoid her for the rest of the night. Jenn and I left fairly early because people started getting drunk and we could feel tension rising in the air. I’m glad we went because the music was absolutely amazing – mostly from Cameroun and Côte d’Ivoire – but it was good we left when we did.
Only one week left until the end of Ramadan, and let me tell you, everyone is counting the days, including I. It hasn’t been easy seeing people so hungry and thirsty all the time, and working under these conditions is nearly impossible. I arrived in Abéché just two days before Ramadan started, so that is all I know and I’ve had to really lower my expectations because hungry and tired people just don’t work well. I know that from myself. It’s been a very difficult time, also because I had no assistant to help me, but that situation has now thankfully changed because my new assistant arrived on Thursday and has already has lots of admin experience with CARE. This means I now have the freedom to go out to the refugee camps, which I have been looking forward to since my arrival. I want to see what CARE is doing and how these people are living and what their stories are. It will also be nice to see other parts of the country, especially the mountains out east and in the north. A few of us are actually planning a little day trip to a village 50 kilometres north of here next Sunday for my (30th!) birthday, and we might see some nomads on the way. And apparently the mountains are spectacular. The town (I’ve forgotten the name) used to be a thriving little municipality with a glorious mosque until they ran out of water a few years ago and completely deserted the place. What remains are mostly ruins, but some say the feeling is still special. I want to see.
I try to learn a bit of Chadian Arabic every day, but it’s not exactly the easiest language. I love it though and I would love to be able to converse in another language aside from French. Speaking of French, I still have a hell of a time understanding some of my colleagues! I can confidently say that I am fluent in French, but it happens not exactly seldom that I simply not understand a single word that comes out of their mouths. When that happens, I let them talk on for a while hoping that at some point I will be able to get the sense of what they’re trying to say to me. I’ll even repeat words. But then comes that silent pause, and I know I’m supposed to comment on what they just said, and I just smile and then say: “je m’excuse mais je n’ai absolument rien compris de ce que vous venez de dire.” And instead of getting impatient with me, they just throw their heads back, give a little giggle and repeat, sometimes up to four times, what they had just said. And even then, it’s not unusual that I will still only get the very basic gist of what they just said. The problem lies mostly in the difference of accents, but it also lies in the sequence at which the sentences come out of their mouths. They probably think the exact same way about my way of speaking and I swear sometimes I can have a full conversation with a colleague of mine and we talk totally past each other the entire time. As you can imagine, that adds a whole other level of difficulty to my work.
I know I’ve already mentioned how lovely my colleagues are, but I just want to say it again because they simply are! I missed one day of work because of being sick and I don’t know how many called me yesterday and even today to see how I was. Even the guy who fixes our computers called me today to see how I was! And some showed up at the house this afternoon to ask about my health, and all of them told me that they were sending me good health: “je vous envoie de la santé.” So so sweet. That would never happen back home… It really moved me. You know, health here is the most important thing. When you meet a friend down town, you always ask how he is, and how the family’s health is, and the father and the mother, etc. Nobody ever asks about money.
I feel tired again, so I think it’s time for another nap! Will write again soon, I promise…
6 commentaires:
hello dear sweet Anne,
thank you again for yet another delightful update. what adventures you are having! that certainly was an interesting story about you and that girl in the bar that tried to pick you up! she must have thought you were extremely exotic! i know you must be sweating to death over there, but at the same time i honestly couldn't help but chuckle a bit about sweating so much that it looked like you had urinated on yourself! ouch, sounds like it's really, really hot over there. i'm so glad your colleagues are so sweet and that you seem to be enjoying yourself. i just got back from toronto for thanksgiving dinner with my family. happy thanksgiving, Anne! hope you are happy and well.
lots of love,
laura
I think it's quite funny that you do not understand your colleagues speaking in French. It's amazing how people can be speaking the same language, but with different dialects it can completely alter the perception. That was how I felt living with you and Joel, my only bilingual living situation ever.
I am so proud of you Missy. I'm reading these stories and thinking about how far you've come and how positive you are. You are making the world a better place one day at a time.
Despite what the Chadian government says about condoms, you need to spread the message as much as possible. The Aids situation is so dire over there, and I'm sure you know this more then I can even pretend to. It's so astonishing that the people running the country lack this knowledge.
I sent you a facebook msg because my friend Shona is coming there as well, and without confirmation, I think she's going to be very close to you. It would make me feel better knowing that you two were looking out for each other.
Talk to you soon sweets and keep taking your anti-malarial medication.
Nat
Hi Anne,
Enjoyed the lastest post, I feel like I can picture the suks/markets as you walk through them and smile at your descriptions of interactions the vendors.
I will have to start a blog, but I don't think the Saudi gov would be appreciative of my true observations on the oppression of women in the society here. It really bothers me!
That wasn't the Meridian hotel in Douala was it? Probably too far from Chad for a day trip, I stayed there night and swam in the pool :) I also vaguely remember a bar called Le VIP not far from the IBIS hotel and a little street art market.
I was also diagnosed with Malaria while in Douala (Cameroon). When you get back to Canada, please please please go to the Tropical Medicine clinic at the General Hospital in Ottawa and have them do a malaria anti-body test which will definitively tell you if you had malaria. My diagnosis in Douala came back positive, but this was based only on lower platelate levels and white blood cell counts. The clinic in Ottawa does not believe I had malaria, but rather a real bad lung infection.
The end of Ramadan here is going to be something for sure! I am looking forward to seeing how it is celebrated. Alas the rampant consumerism will probably put a weird spin on it.
I sympathize with you on the peed the pants fashion statement. Just yesterday one of my co-workers asked if I was ok because I had managed to sweat through my pants and my shirt, and I was only outside for 20-30 mins. How are you managing with water drinking/eating during the day? Do you have to hide it, or can you do it in the open? We are basically bound to our living quarters if we want to eat or drink during Ramadan.
Ah well, Eid is just around the corner, and in the middle of it I have to make a border run to Bahrain to renew my entry visa for Saudi, so this should be interesting.
Take care, and I hope you feel better.
Bonne Sante!
Owen
Hey Annie
Sorry to do this to you over BLOG - but I need to hear from you!
Well I had my 1st wedding shopping day with the wedding planners…..what fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyways – WEDDING DATES will be March 15th and 16th…..it is a weekend wedding. (no one else knows that yet either!!!). so I need to know ASAP when you want to leave and return….so I can book your tickets ASAP to get good prices.
Hope you’re well…..
Xxoo
Jess
Bon anniversaire ma chère Anne ! J'espère que vous avez fait votre excursion que vous planifiez faire et que tu as passé une belle journée.
Je suis heureuse que tu sois bien entourée. Non seulement pour cette journée spéciale de tes 30 ans mais pour tout ton séjour. C'est tellement important mentalement ! Je suis rassurée que tu sois choyée à ce niveau.
Merci pour ces belles descriptions ! Tu vis vraiment quelque chose de spécial. Un dépaysement total...à tous les niveaux. Tu t'enrichis tous les jours et ce qu'il y a de merveilleux c'est que tu t'en rendes compte et que tu profites de chaque instant. Je t'imagine...complètement en admiration devant cet homme au sac noir. Trop cute ! Et aussi, perplexe devant cette jeune femme qui te courtisait avec son ventre...ce n'est pas chose commune au Canada !
Anne, c'est court mais j'aurais tellement à te dire...Au fait, Michel te dit un beau bonjour...j'espère que tu es bien et que ta santé soit de fer !
Je t'aime beaucoup ma belle et j'ai hâte de te voir :-) bizous bizous Valérie
Anne is eating MEAT! Wooohooo!!!
Joe x
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