Winging It, Out of Control

With the Chief

The other day I had some unexpected visitors stop by. The chief of Miltou, a village south of here that can take hours or days to get to depending on the road conditions, and his assistant to the chief and a local teacher of Arabic came to speak with me. I remember this area. We did 5 wells in the area. One was for a community of refugees who had fled fighting in Central African Republic. One of the women giving a testimony about how the well impacted her life said, “We have not been accepted by the local community here because we come from a different tribe. We have been neglected by everyone. No one has thought of us, but today God has remembered us.” I would like to note here that while I do believe that God was behind this, the local chief is the one who told us to give one of the bore holes to their community, and that was a generous gesture. I do acknowledge that the refugees have felt rejected, neglected, and alone. Their access to water is a huge encouragement to them.

So the chief and his entourage stopped by, and I braced myself for the usual requests for schools, hospitals, etc, and while we did discuss their need for medical facilities in the area, that was not what they came by for. “We just wanted to say thank you! We knew we needed to stop by your office and thank you for your help while we are in N’Djamena. There is a notable improvement in our lives after the water project. We have clean water to drink. It tastes good. Thank you!”

Me, Assistant to the Chief, Arabic Teacher, Nesie, Chief

A refugee woman from CAR in front her new pump

I have had people thank us before for our projects. I’ve had communities send letters and I’ve had visits. It’s not rare that it happens, but it isn’t the norm. So it is appreciated when it does. And it does encourage the team and me when we are struggling. But on the flip side, I had to go to visit a government office today, a task that I usually avoid when possible. As usual, said official started off nice, but he was looking for a chance to prove how powerful he was, trying to find a way to insult my colleague and make him nervous that we hadn’t followed rules the guy just made up on the spot. This type of thing often happens in government meetings. I tend to lose my temper internally, say something heated in return, then recognize that I have lost my temper and the continued presence of our work in Chad is becoming precarious, and then focus the rest of my attention on not rolling my eyes, fixing my smile in place and talking until the situation calms down, the guy gets annoyed by my stumbling French, and he ends the meeting.

Posing for Claire in my new culturally appropriate work outfit

I’m trying to focus on the people who are grateful for what we are doing and the fact that we are actually making a difference here even if we didn’t follow a “developmental” protocol made up by a government official so he could get more money from us. On the other hand, the people who are doing their jobs for financial and personal gain, while pretending to care about their countrymen are not unique to Chad. I know plenty of them in other countries, and I have admitted here that my motivations in doing my work are not entirely or even always mostly about helping others—I really do like the adventure of life out here. I’ve never pretended I’m making a big sacrifice for staying here, but I do think that the more that I know what the needs are and the more I know what helps and hurts, the less I want to do anything else. For me, it would be a waste of the weird excitement God has given me for living in the hard and/or dangerous places. It would be a waste of the hard-earned knowledge I’ve gained through stupid mistakes I’ve made.

Here is a stupid mistake I made recently: I got up at 3am to drive Leif to the airport. When I got home,
I noticed that I had been wearing two different shoes. A few hours later, I drove 100km to Dourbali.

Last week I spent a couple days in Dourbali with Pastor Moussa, face to face with some of my mistakes. He reminded me about how our water project started. From my side, I had gotten a call from the Head Office in the US giving me the go ahead for a few trial bore holes in Chad. I knew about Pastor Moussa and I had met him before and heard about his work. A Swiss missionary had also called me and mentioned I should look into doing a well for him if I could. He gave me his phone number. I had a certain number of wells that I could do, and his area fell in the region where we were working so I called him up. We agreed when I would go visit, and from my side, that was the beginning of our project with him.

Right after I smashed my phone, right before driving 100km to Dourbali

From Pastor Moussa’s side, he had recently moved to that area, with a heart to serve the nomad community in the area. He had the taxi driver drop him off on his land by a big tree. That was all that was there. The taxi driver thought he was crazy. He and his family started setting up camp. This was their new home. But it was not an easy place. The nearest water source was in town. They had to buy the water from local merchants. But they didn’t have a consistent source of income, so this was difficult.  One day he was at the end of his rope, begging God for help, begging Him to provide for the needs of his family, specifically water. And a few hours later, I called him. 

A photo from Pastor Moussa's Facebook of his family setting up camp their first day in Dourbali,
captioned simply "It takes courage to be a missionary."

There is much more to the story, including bits and pieces that I can’t really share on the Internet, but an important thing is that after we had done 12 wells in the area, I realized that we had several problems. All but 4 of these wells are in areas where the water table is quite low. This means that a hand pump will be too heavy to pump. Women and children will have to work in pairs to push the handle down and the pumps break down often because they are not made to work at water levels that deep. I did not realize this would be the case. I didn’t know I needed to ask that question. I’d been to the village. I’d seen hand pumps in other parts of the village that were working. I assumed it would be fine to do more, but I should have done more research to find that the reason most people get their water from the water merchants is that they have dug very deep bore holes and installed generator-powered pumps designed for these depths. But I just assumed they were a bunch of greedy jerks in it for a quick buck. I might still be right about that, but I could also be wrong. I’ve not actually spoken with them. I’ve never seen them around to talk to them. But I do know that a large number of people in the area, especially nomads, do not have the money to buy water. So they search for free options—easily breakable hand pumps and open ponds full of diseases.

Chatting with Victor, Pastor Moussa, and Benjamin about our project.
Victor is our indispensable solar pump expert who came in from Kenya to help us. 

Pastor Moussa's dog who loved me because I pet her and fed her some of my dinner.
I woke up in the middle of the night when I felt someone come and lie down by my bed.
In the morning I saw that it was the happy dog!

So we figured out a way to install solar-powered submersible pumps that will run for free on the powerful, nearly always present Chadian sun. But we had another problem: in Pastor Moussa’s pump and the pump nearest his house, there was a high iron content, making the water red and bad-tasting (health-wise it isn’t really a bit deal, but it does not encourage water consumption, which is important in a hot sweaty climate). That did not stop Leif from coming up with some ideas for filtration systems. We had a fun time looking up youtube videos of iron filtration systems and I read a few scholarly articles about oxidation of iron. Then people told me that if we had drilled to the deepest level where the merchants drilled, we would have hit the clean water without the iron contamination. And I was frustrated with myself again because they sounded so sure. And they are possibly right, but I started to pray about the water in that well.

Pastor Moussa on top of his water tower, smiling of course!

Fast-forward to this week when speaking with my solar pump installation team about the work in Dourbali. They showed me photos of the water at Pastor Moussa’s house running clear. Victor said, “There’s no more iron. The water tastes great.”

“What happened?” I said. “I thought the water was iron contaminated?” He said, “No, I think it was just a reaction with the galvanized pipes. But we had to remove them and install PVC pipes. Also, with solar pumps, there isn’t as much water just sitting in the hole reacting to the galvanized metal so with the PVC pipes and the solar pump, the water is now clean and iron-free.” So was it the water depth as the people said that caused the iron contamination or was it the galvanized pipes or was it something else? I don’t know. Not all the pumps had iron issues, but all of the pumps had galvanized pipes installed. But the water is clean and clear now. And I will check carefully for iron contamination in future projects because I read all those articles, and now I want to see if it’s possible to invent a low-cost filtration system that uses oxygen in the air to get rid of iron in the water and now I don’t get to/have to experiment in Dourbali.

The children at Pastor Moussa's house with the clean water!

The point that I am trying to make is that I am really screwing up here as I wing it. And if I were in this on my own, this whole thing would be a disaster. And these days as I’m realizing that I can’t do things on my own (and I never could even though I thought I could), I’m grateful that I’m not in control, and I’m not on my own. God had this plan for Dourbali way before I came into the picture. He led Pastor Moussa there. Pastor Moussa was praying for water. My “winging it” system was totally usable by God, thankfully. But now that I’m paying attention a bit more, it’s a lot more fun for me and a tiny bit less stressful. I can mess up small things, but the Big thing is going to go through no matter what I screw up. But it’s also good to learn from my mistakes—do more research before drilling!! Hanging out and having fun with people is great, but ask more and better questions!! When driving through mud, put the car in second gear and L2 and keep the acceleration steady. If the car gets stuck in 4WD, put it in reverse while pounding on the clutch and whispering bad words to yourself QUIETLY because people will sometimes ask you to translate English words you use that they’ve never heard before and that can be awkward.

What your window looks like after you drive through mud

What your face looks like while you're waiting for your colleagues to buy the watermelons already,
after you've had only a small amount of sleep two nights in a row and have driven all over the countryside.

Goats blocking our road! Can't go over them (too bad),
can't go through them, gonna have to herd them to one side
so you can go around them.

And now the Final Discussion. 

It’s toilet paper. Also it’s “new improved” so I guess the previous version of this toilet paper was just called “Discussion.” I’m also appreciating the lone camel silhouetted against the sunset. Possibly he is waiting for you to finish the Final Discussion so you can get back on and keep riding into said sunset…if your phone is charging and you need something to do in the bathroom, this toilet paper is for you.

Joe loves having company in the car when we are driving to work.
Denis and Jack are in from Uganda and Kenya to help us out in the office.
We are so grateful. We are loving us some East Africa here in Chad right now,
even if Denis and Jack say that I spoil Joe. Of course I do! Look at his face!

Back to Work

Thanks, Loguya, for this photo, reminding
me to add waterproof shoes to the packing list
for Uganda trips. I always wear removable shoes when
possible because my toes like freedom.
I will not be sharing the video Loguya took of
me petting and talking to a baby cow.

I’m back in Chad, been back for a few weeks now, and it’s about time for an update. Also, I’m waiting for a meeting to start, so what else am I going to do? Answer emails? I probably should be answering emails…

Instead, a brief update on Uganda-I was there for a week. I met up with friends, new and old. I had some encouraging conversations and prayer time with people who know me well and care about me well. I’m blessed to have lived this international existence so I have friends all over who can speak into my life from their background and experiences. A Ugandan and a Chadian encourage me differently from an American or a Brit, but they all enrich my life in special ways. It’s wonderful when other people’s faith can strengthen yours when it is weak.

I love this friend. She and her husband made a special trip to Entebbe to see me.

Uganda is so pretty

I always try the new Coke Zero flavors.
I do not like coffee though. And also I did not like this.
But if you like the flavor of coffee and diet soda, you will probably like this.

I do love chili lemon potato crisps.
Chili lemon is a superior flavor.

This was an excellent church service, but I was interested to note
that the hipsters have made it to Uganda.
This church was decorated with mason jars and wooden palates.
It's a bit different from my Chadian church that meets under a hangar,
but worship is great in both places.

Another great way to lift your spirits when you’re down is to see success in a risky project you worked hard on turn out better than you ever expected. It’s great to see God working more than I asked or imagined. The little town of Saliamusala was irresistible to me, naturally, seated as it is on the border of 3 countries. When I heard we were doing biosand filters there, I insisted on visiting. After passing through two checkpoints and arriving in a dilapidated town center teeming with drunken men (at about 3pm), I felt a bit unsure of the wisdom of this trip.  Whenever I find myself thinking out what-would-I-do-if situations, I’m usually in a situation I shouldn’t have gotten myself into if I had thought through the what-would-I-do-if scenarios in advance. I almost never think about those scenarios in advance though. It’s never quite as exciting as in the moment.

Saliamusala before our project

Obviously, it wasn’t that dangerous because I survived and went back multiple times. But since we were doing biosand filters in the area, I decided I wanted to see the water source (there are a few reasons for this, but I won’t bore you with them). The people took me down to the water source, which was on the South Sudan side, so my South Sudanese friends and I took a few selfies to commemorate being back in SS again. The last time we’d been there, we’d been 3 on a motorcycle together exploring biosand filter potential and since then children had been born (to them) and we had moved countries because of war (them) or work (me) and it was one of those moments where you remember strongly who you were in the past and how your past self would never have been able to predict this current self moment (do you ever feel that way? This year Amanda feels that way a lot about last year Amanda’s expectations for this year). Anyway, we finally moved down to see the water source and it was pretty bleak. One of the worst I’d seen. And there were many women waiting for their turn to scrape water from the spring in the deepest part of the rock to fill up their jerrycans for their family’s water needs. Usually I can laugh and interact with women and we have good conversations and smile together. These ladies were not interested. I decided in that moment that I was going to try to do a well in this area. Biosand filters are good when you have enough water, but when you don’t have enough water, biosand filters can actually be frustrating because some of the water is lost in the filtration process. I didn’t announce my plan to anyone because I’ve learned the hard way not to promise anything you aren’t sure you can give, and you can rarely be sure of anything, so I avoid promises when possible. Even now I can think of several promises I’ve made that have really come back to haunt me.

Women singing

At any rate, God was in this one, and I will shorten the story by saying that I was able to get the right people to see the situation and my colleagues were able to get the right connections to get the bore hole drilled and the local church was able to reach the area with the Good News and when I went back with some other visitors (very nervous about what we would find), we were greeted by women waving branches and singing praises to Jesus instead of drunken leering men and sense of hopelessness. We were escorted to the bore hole and heard testimonies from all three countries about what the water pump meant to them. The women were then very excited to help us film the story of the area (or they were until we took a million years to film tiny things, but that’s show biz, baby!). They were happy that they could be a part of bringing clean water to others by sharing their story. It is important to note that the bar and the drunk men were still there, but they were no longer the defining factor of that village, nor were they the first or main impression from the visit. 

New hand pump

So anyway, yes, I cried, but I was already in a fragile emotional state at the time, and it was just encouraging to see that God is working through my life and through the lives of people who are obedient to His calling in giving, going, serving, loving their neighbor, and putting Him first in their lives.

And now I’m back in Chad. Joe was happy to see me, as he is happy to see everyone, but he kept me awake all last night, whining to get out and bark at all the neighborhood dogs who were out in force, and so he is on my bad side, but I forget that he is annoying when he lays his head on my knee and smiles up at me. He is so manipulative.

Compare to the "before" pic above

Demonstrating how they used to get water. She was so patient filming this.

Searching for the rat

I’ve also been encouraged praying and worshipping with friends here, and hearing about all that God is doing through faithful people serving Him in Chad, and there are some exciting stories that I can’t put on the internet, sadly. I’m looking forward to the new projects coming up, but also praying for wisdom navigating some tough stuff that we have been hit with over the past few months that are really complicating things. It is not going to stop the work though, because that was already planned way before we came into the picture by Someone who is not surprised by broken promises, inflation, climate change, relational conflict, lawsuits, destructive selfishness or anything else we don’t foresee. He also doesn’t need us to get the work done, but it’s pretty exciting to get to be a part of it. I’m glad I’m in the game, even when it’s hot and muggy and the power goes out for hours and Joe alternates between barking all night or waking me up with his nose right in my face, and I have to ask the guard to come in and help me chase a rat around my kitchen and hope that he won’t come back (because we didn’t catch him) and none of the ATMs work and I have to change the dollars I was planning to use to get a new passport, and the road in front of my house is so muddy my truck gets stuck in it and then I put it in 4 wheel drive to get it out and I get out but the truck is then stuck in 4 wheel drive, so I have to go to the office in 4 wheel drive and ask our drilling chief if he can get it out of 4 wheel drive (he did—it just gets stuck sometimes, he says). And anyway, the power is currently on, the rat hasn’t been back, I found an ATM that works sometimes, my truck is not stuck in mud or in 4 wheel drive, and Joe looks like this:

He's lucky he's cute 

So it’s all good somehow. God’s got this. There’s a bigger world out there that is not stuck in my pain, and things are happening. The race is on, and I’m running it. Not at Eliud Kipchoge speed, but you know, plodding along, taking a lot of water breaks with occasional bursts of speed when I get chased by dogs or have to cross the street without getting smashed.

Working in the village--laptop, cell phone, horse in the background,
turbaned man in the rearview mirror, crazy Swede in the front seat...yeah, that's about right.

Some days my most important work is being a desk

Check out my new ant farm in what was once "chocolate strands" for cake decorations.
I always wanted an ant farm, though I knew if I asked my mom for one, I'd
get the same response I got when I asked for a pet snake, "I don't want that in my house!"
Of course, we were in Indonesia so we had both snakes and ants in our house anyway.
Now I can observe ant tunnels from the comfort of my kitchen. Dreams do come true.

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