Chad Corona, Hot Season, and Anniversaries

With Kadidja and Fadouma, chatting about their

daily quest to get water and petting their donkeys.

I was planning to write about hot season because hot season is always an Event, but then I was reminded that it was my 8 year anniversary with Neverthirst while I was in Dourbali listening to Moussa and some of his ministry friends chat about the old days. So I thought about writing about that, and then I thought maybe I should write about how coronavirus is affecting us here in Chad because there have been some entertaining moments, but maybe everyone is sick of hearing about the coronavirus? I guess I’ll just mash everything up into one long super-blog and call it a day.

Anyway, like I said—it is hot season here now. So hot the steering wheel burns your hands when you get in the car and your silver jewelry heats up instantly, which can be unpleasant. It’s not too bad for me, born in the desert/raised on the equator, but it really is nice to have AC occasionally. Fans help, but when it’s really hot, mostly they just move really hot air around the room, so you feel like you’re inside of a hairdryer plugged into the wrong voltage (but not the one that blows up the hairdryer—the other one that makes it go too slowly). Now that you are sensing the depth of my knowledge of the complexities of electricity, you will not be surprised to read that when Henry and I tried to fix my non-functioning air conditioner by applying the classic “turn it off and on again” method to the electrical system in our compound, we ended up breaking everything. 

Fixing the electricity-what you can't see
is that everyone was sweating buckets in that room.

It was around 7pm, 38/100 degrees out. We called Urbain. He came right over, like the hero that he is, and told us a bunch of words for what the problem was. I didn’t understand most of the words, so I cannot put them in this blog, but my favorite part was when he asked me if I had any copper wire to give him to fix the thing that was broken.  (Note: we did not break the Thing. Well, we did, but the Thing was about to die anyway, so actually it is a good thing that we broke the Thing before it broke by itself because we were able to fix it.). Did I have any copper wire just lying around?  No, I did not. But Urbain found a bit of old cable and extracted something and tied it to something and wound that around something and anyway, he fixed it. I’m telling you that there is no stopping African innovation. We had power all night long! The next day Urbain went to get the real thing that we needed to fix the Thing that we broke from one of the shops that is considered non-essential and was closed due to the Coronavirus. No problems-he knows the guy. He got the thing. And this is how commerce is working during these days of coronavirus in Chad.

Speaking of the coronavirus, we have around 30 cases confirmed in country, no deaths, and 5 or so recoveries. However, we have implemented various precautions around the country because everyone else is doing it, and we thought we would follow along. Note: this includes sending funny memes around in French/Arabic/Chadian Frabic (French/Arabic combined, don’t try to use this word, I just made it up right now and I don’t know if others have been this clever before me-likely, but as yet unproven). I’ve really enjoyed laughing in multiple languages. I’ve also seen some of the same jokes in English and French, which shows how unifying this whole disaster has been to global culture.

A meme that Hervé and I laughed at a lot. 

So here in Chad, churches, mosques, schools, restaurants, bars, gatherings over 50 people and shops not selling food are all supposed to be closed (though, as mentioned previously, if you know the shop owner or someone who knows the shop owner or someone who knows someone who knows the shop owner, you can still buy what you need). One excellent side benefit of this is that there is no more thumping music at night, and I’m not saying that it makes it worth it to have a global pandemic, I’m just saying that it is possible to appreciate things that happen because of the global pandemic, just like those of you who are appreciating working from home in your pajamas.

This Eagle Wings Hot Liquid Oil from Cameroon,
source of the virus in Chad was still a must for me
because of course it was.

We have hand-washing stations outside of all officially open stores and offices (ours too!), and I’m telling you, Chad has never been so hygienic. We had a curfew of 7pm to 6am that was recently changed to 8pm to 5am. This pleased me, as I like to get out before 6am to run. But I followed the curfew, though I could hear many people NOT following the curfew while I waited for 6am to go out and run. But I know that nasaras will be disproportionally targeted for curfew violation fines, and anyway, I should probably follow the laws of the country where I live, even if I fail to see how a curfew will prevent the spread of the virus when circulation continues as normal during the daytime.

Hand-washing station in front of our office
And the water is naturally heated by the sun!

Then there was the great face mask debacle. It was declared that from 14 April, everyone should wear facemasks in public. I heard late in the day and decided I would have to skip my run the next morning, not having any face masks handy. I was planning a system with which I could tie a face mask haphazardly over my ears and wear it whilst running, but I had to purchase one first. Fortunately for Joe who absolutely MUST have his morning constitutional, the government had made allowances for head scarves and turbans to be used to cover the face. I diligently followed the rules, using the same logic as I did for the curfew (save money on fines so I have enough to buy the good candy), and went out, wrapped in a head scarf. I noticed quickly I was one of about 10 rule-following dorks out that morning. Fortunately, by 2pm that day (incidentally after we had procured face masks for everyone in the office), the great Face Mask Imperative was canceled by the government due to “not enough supplies for everyone.”

I did get to use my face mask once when Henry asked me to drive him
home a bit early because he wasn't feeling well. He was a good sport about all
my coronavirus jokes and he's fine--don't worry!

Speaking of things that don’t help everyone, the Chadian president speeched later that week, promising that the government will pay electric bills for 3 months and water bills for 6 months for people in N’djamena. This benefits the very small percentage of people in N’djamena who actually have electricity and city water in their homes, of which I am lucky to be one. However, the side effect of that announcement has been that almost every day since we have had significant power cuts, lasting hours at a time because the electric company is motivated to save the President a bit of money probably. But in a fortunate turn of events, a friend who was evacuated with the American Embassy left me the keys to her fully-air conditioned house with automatic backup generator and a pool. Henry and I (and Victor and Claire too) have been enjoying moments of coolness, and I’ve been teaching him some swimming. Suck it, Bandung Alliance International School Swimming Teachers of Young Amanda who never thought she was paying attention to what you were teaching her because she was too busy complaining about the cold water you were forcing her to be in. Henry now knows the breast stroke and he will be learning the front crawl soon.  He’s also finally mastered jumping onto one of those floaty rafts, and we have had a few races across the pool, using pool noodles as paddles.

Henry can swim AND get on a floaty raft. If there is a tsunami in Chad,
he will survive because of my spectacular swim coaching skills.

Easter in the AC-thanks, Lisa!
Chapatis and chicken stew-thanks, Victor!

Anyway, enough about the virus, it was also my 8 year anniversary of working with Neverthirst. I never thought I would last so long with one organization, but I’m also super lazy about applying for jobs (you send them a CV and you also have to type everything from your CV into their website—this seems like a waste of everyone’s time), so I guess it was inevitable. Working with Neverthirst has introduced me to many new cultures and languages, from India to South Sudan to Chad to Alabama. With Neverthirst I have traveled or worked in more than 10 countries on 4 continents (not even counting North America). I’ve had to change over and set up new offices, find new projects, escape warzones, speak on local television programs, and talk my way out of fines and jail time for certain videographers. I’ve seen the Neverthirst culture grow, change, twist dangerously, and heal. I’ve considered quitting many times, but God kept me in the game.

Little Amanda in India 2012-had not mastered balancing the scarf on my shoulders
so it functioned like an unnecessary neck-warmer.

With the one and only Antony Samy in Nepal,
who taught me most of the important things that I know about working in WASH
in developing nations. 

With Ester Roba in South Sudan, heading out to plant some peanuts in her garden.

And as I read through slack messages from my colleagues about this 8 year anniversary for me and one other guy and sent stupid photos of each other back and forth, I was sitting in a group of men at Pastor Moussa’s house and they were reminiscing about the old days too. I’d brought Nadji and his wife Tabitha to Dourbali with me, as they were old colleagues with Moussa and his wife Marthe in the Lake Chad region for years. When I saw Tabitha and Marthe greet each other with so much joy and laughter, I realize that I need to make this happen more often for Marthe’s sake—she never complains, but she rarely gets out of Dourbali, while Moussa often travels to conferences and events. Nadji and Tabitha worked in Dourbali for a short time as well, and it was handy having Nadji with me, as the police decided to pull us over because we are white people traveling (one white person, but I was driving, so extra visible). They were giving us a hard time until Nadji hobbled over in his cast and then, “Oh Doctor! When did you get here? So good to see you again. Are you moving back here? Oh, just a visit? It’s ok, go on, no problem, no problem.” So that was handy.

Tabitha and Marthe

Tabitha and Marthe posed photo-Marthe says she doesn't
smile much because she doesn't have nice teeth like Moussa,
but Tabitha and I assured her that she is beautiful and we love her smile.

This is not important, but will someone please tell me
why a pick-up truck needs a button for opening the trunk?

I’m getting side-tracked, but Tabitha and Marthe were catching up, talking fast in a tribal language that I don’t know, but the men were all on the other side of the curtain-wall speaking French, so I was listening to them. Pastor Rene from N’djamena who also used to work in the Lake Region was there too.

Pastor Rene and Nadji catching up--it was hot, like I said,
thus the elaborate fans.

Pastor Rene said, “Remember that time we were going to have that conference for missionaries in Bol when we were all working by the Lake? And how we didn’t have enough money, so we were thinking about canceling it? But we decided to pray about it first. And then Nadji, you went fishing. Remember? And you threw the nets out and caught 80 kilos (over 175lbs) of fish! And we sold it and it was enough to pay for the conference!”

Everyone is laughing and saying, “Yeah, yeah, I remember that. That was a great conference.”

I popped my head up from sending a photo of me on the job in India in 2012 to ask them, “What was the theme of the conference that was so good?”

“Prayer!” they said, laughing at me. I’m guessing any Prayer Conference that starts out with a miracle is going to be pretty good.

The dream team: Nesie (discipled by Moussa and Rene),
Pastor Moussa, Pastor Rene, Nadji, and Pastor Eli

There have been some pretty sucky days working with Neverthirst, I’m not going to lie. But there have been more good days and so many good stories like that one that I’ve heard from faithful servants of the Lord. I loved hearing former Hindus talk about how once they decided to follow Jesus, they realized that God loves everyone, even the Dalit, and they started to love and serve people they previously wouldn’t have even allowed to touch them. I’ve seen South Sudanese singing praises to God even as they hid in the bush from people destroying their town (we were far enough away and the guns were loud so we weren’t in any danger of being discovered). I’ve listened to stories from my Kenyan drilling chief working to provide water to people in South Sudan while avoiding bombing raids from North Sudan during the war. I’ve heard Leif talk about dodging bullets while trying to start up a relief project in Somalia back in the day. I’ve joined in singing and dancing in various mud churches around this continent, consistently being the worst dancer (though not usually the most tuneless singer, contrary to what you might expect, as volume tends to be more important than tone in most churches where I’ve been—it’s a joyful noise, though). Anyway, the good has outweighed the bad, I believe. You never know what the Lord has for your future—I might stay with Neverthirst until I die or I might get fired tomorrow for saying “sucky days” on the internet or supporting the wrong Alabamian football team (Roll Eagle or whatever). But anyway, I think I have a few more adventures left in me.

And here are a bunch of photos of various recent adventures:

Moussa's granddaughter wants him to open her candy for her.

Selfies with some cool kids

Iyagana and Didja are sisters and friends who wanted to show off
the henna on their hands. They are all dressed up for a wedding.

Iyagana wanted a photo with me. I think she has a career as an Instagram model.
If I were on Instagram, I would help launch her career. She's got the smirk down nicely.

Harun, chief of the village where Iyagana and Didja live.
This is his hand pump behind him. People come from all over to use it,
as it is one of the few in the area that works, though it breaks down frequently due to the depth of the pump.

Nomads setting up camp near Pastor Moussa's house so that they can use his water.

Another nearby crowded water source.
The horse helps pull the water up.

Nadji says goodbye to Moussa's family

Moussa says goodbye to Nadji's wife, Tabitha

I got a new puppy! It's a long story. If you want to know how it happened, I'll tell you.
If you just want to see many photos of this adorable puppy, keep scrolling down.

Joe checks out the puppy. He is not sure about this new "friend."

I am sure. I love her. But I am not sure what her name should be.

Now they're friends! I mostly call her "Tiny Puppy".
Her other names are Shalom (Emelie's idea that I vetoed because Shalom is not a peaceful creature),
Bishi (means 'dog' in Ngambaye and makes the Ngambayes annoyed--'That is what she IS, not her name.'),
Nasara because I think it is funny, Pika because Antani's kids heard it on TV and like it, Mike Tyson because she likes biting my ears, Puppiko because that is something Emelie heard me squeal at her in a high-pitched voice, and more.

All my dogs!

How cute is Tiny Puppy in the flower pot!!
It's like Anne Geddes for puppies!

Oh right, I have 3 dogs because York belongs to a guy who works for the Embassy
who was evacuated and could't take him along. I told him I would look after York for him,
and in return he brought me 3 giant bags of dogfood that none of the dogs will eat unless one dog is eating it and then
they suddenly decide it must be desirable, a box full of canned goods, spices I already had, and a giant jar of nutella (finished that in two days), and some giant tubs of candy I don't like so I gave to less picky children who were thrilled.

My happy, beautiful puppies!