Visitors Part Two, an even longer post about how traveling in Chad is never boring

One girl is drawing me a new tattoo with a pen
and the other kids are seeing if the white can rub off.
It can't-I've also tried.

Part 1 ended with photos of South Africa after I touched briefly on the subjects of traveling and dust. And to continue speaking of traveling and dust and its impact on The Visit of the Americans and One (1) Australian, Matt and Brandon were supposed to leave Thursday night to head back to the US because they didn’t want to spend two weekends away from their families (spoiler alert: they didn’t get their wish but it wasn’t my fault!). The rest of us were supposed to leave early Friday morning for Niger. Thursday night after a fun “last” dinner at our favorite pizza place in N’djamena (well-earned after the team spent the last few days eating lots of okra stew, goat meat, guinea fowl and baguettes with chocolate sauce), I dropped Matt and Brandon off at the airport. I went back to the Guest House where I had opted to stay with the team as it was closer to the airport and easier to stay all together than for me to go back and forth from my house. When we got to the Guest House, I had a call from Matt that he'd forgotten his covid test results in the Guest House. No problem. I send him a photo of it and it was accepted. I had figured we would have some issue like that, and foolishly thought that would be it.

Some photos from our time in Chad

Community well

Much loved football/soccer ball

Motorcycle ferry

When Tara wanted to get in the water,
I was her assistant, carrying her shoes, her subject's baby, 
and keeping her camera out of the water.

About 9pm I get a call from Matt that their flight is canceled. I had heard from Claire, who loves to follow flights because she’s cool like that, that it was likely canceled as Air France couldn’t manage to land as visibility was very hampered due to dust storms. (Also, let's be honest: it's Air France. They love canceling flights, but in this case Claire, who lives under the path of an airplane's descent into N'djamena, says they made several attempts to land before giving up.) They wanted me to come, but then they found someone who could translate for them who said that the airline was putting them all up in a hotel so I didn’t have to go pick them up. At about 11:20 I had another call from them saying that they don’t know where the English speaker went, but they had been waiting for over an hour and no one picked them up to go to the hotel. So I got up from bed where I had optimistically laid down to sleep before a 5am trip to the airport the next day, drove to the airport and found them and a few other people waiting for transportation to the hotel. The airport official (the one who wasn’t asleep in the chair) asked me if I would take people with me to the hotel. I said, “Are you going to pay me?” and he looked a bit scared, so I said I have to take my two people with me and I have room for two more. They sent just one guy with me who was diabetic so I had Matt and Brandon and a diabetic Tunisian in my truck as I tried to drive through very dusty dark streets to a hotel I’ve never been to before. I found it with some effort and got back to the Guest House around midnight. 

My attempt at a photo of driving through dust at night.

Early the next morning, the rest of the team and I went hopefully out to the airport at 5am. When we got there, we joined a line of people waiting outside the airport. I don’t like waiting in lines. So I went to go see why we were waiting. I saw a guy I know who works in the airport and asked for info. He told me that there were technical issues on the flight and it was canceled but we could be put on the flight for the next day. Mahesh, my favorite travel agent, confirmed this when I called and rebooked the flights for us. I took the team to the French bakery for some comfort croissants and coffee that wasn’t nescafé. Then I took them back to the Guest House, which I was told could still be used by us until Monday. Then Matt and Brandon called and wanted me to pick them up and figure out what was happening to their flight, so Jason and I went there and then took them out for comfort croissants. We also decided to move them to Guest House so everyone could be together. I spent the day getting meds for  Bob who wasn’t feeling well (thanks Claire and Brian--Guinebor Hospital people are my favourites!) and getting food for everyone to eat and rearranging flights and schedules and getting new covid test papers drawn up with new dates. Jason was great with the replanning for Niger. Kadessou was great arranging new airport drop offs. I didn’t book enough rooms at the Guest House so I decided to spend the last night in my house with my dogs, who were very happy about it. I left my truck at the Guest House and told Mariassou to pick me up at my house at 5:15 so we could get to the Guest House to pick up the rest of the travelers to catch our flight to Niger. Mahesh called and said to be sure to get there as early as possible, no later than 5:30, as due to the previous day’s cancellation this flight was double booked. 

This is about 11am dust behind the Chadian flag.
Pictures don't really capture it.

At 5:15 Mariassou hadn’t arrived. I gave him 5 minutes and then called. No answer. I called and called all his numbers. Around 5:25 he picks up. “I’m on my way,” he says. I press him a bit, “Where exactly are you?”He admits to oversleeping and not having left his house yet. It takes a good 15-20 minutes to get to my house from his (more if you get stuck on the bridge). I told him to meet me at the airport to get the key to my truck because I couldn’t wait for him to come. I had my guard go out to catch a motorcycle taxi for me. He finds one, ties my bag on the back, and we zip off to Team Guest House. We arrive a little after 5:30, and I overpay the guy and find everyone waiting outside the guest house for me with their luggage because no one read their messages to load up the truck, which was parked inside. We all troop inside, load up the truck and I zoom to the airport, dump them all off to save a place for us in the line while I parked. Then I joined them and we all pushed into the airport. We were near the front of the line when I realized that in a fit of trying to be responsible, I’d taken out receipts from the Chad trip to leave in my house so I could sort them when I got back. In that mass of papers was my covid test result. Jason gave me one of his previous covid test papers and using that paper, I got into the airport. Fortunately, unlike the time Ethiopian Airlines almost didn’t let me board because my covid test said M instead of F on it, they didn’t even notice that my paper had Jason’s name on it. And he is M and I’m F. Maybe we look alike even though he is definitely not American. He is Australian. Once inside, while waiting to check in, I called Mariassou and told him where to find my covid test in my house and to bring it with him when he got to the airport to pick up the key to my truck, as I didn’t think it would be as easy to sneak past the covid test checkers with Jason’s results in Niamey.

Photo from the back of the motorcycle taxi
on the way to the airport

Finally it was our turn to check in. Jason, Tara and Bob’s ticket info was all there. Mine wasn’t. I checked them in and then joined the queue of people harassing the ticketing agent for similar issues. Mahesh also called the guy, and as I was one of the first people in line thanks to Mahesh’s advice to arrive early, I was ultimately rebooked on the flight with everyone else, but there were about 15 minutes of intense stress about whether or not I should send the team without me. While I was in that 15 minutes of elevated heart rate, Mariassou had called that he had my paper and needed the car keys. I ran out to make the exchange as soon as my flight was rebooked (which involved the agent having me take a photo of his computer screen). 

Some photos from Niger

Our community worker teaching hand washing

Talking to a village chief, trying out my Hausa

Local cell phone charging operation,
not pictured is the little generator.
Phone charged to full for 100CFA.

At this point, I think we’re home free. We head upstairs to immigration. I wait for the group to go through. But wait! Jason and Bob’s visas are not in their passports. As Jason came from Australia and Bob came via Uganda, both places without Chadian Embassies, we had to get them visas on arrival, which is a process. Their passports were left with immigration when they arrived. Then while we were in Dourbali, Emelie went to immigration to pick up the passports and get them registered at the police station. Apparently immigration had not put the visas in their passports, but happily gave them to Emelie anyway. The police had proudly stamped the passports without noticing that there were no visas in there. But immigration at the airport noticed. They said there is nothing we can do. They have to go out to the ministry of immigration to get the visas or they can’t leave. I start talking to everyone in Arabic about all of our options. Most of them know me anyway as I travel more than most people in this country. I called Kadessou to call his General friend who works in immigration. While I’m calling and talking to everyone, an immigration lady comes to me and says in Arabic, “I like you. You are my sister. I will help you. Come. I’ll stamp their passports so they can leave.” She does this, out of what I presume is the goodness of her heart moved to help me because of the sisterly bond she feels for me. Then just before we leave, she says in French, “And how about a present for me for the help that I have given you?” Which, as someone with sisters, is totally something we would do. I buy Christmas tree ornaments from every country I visit for Joanna for being my POA and doing my taxes for me. And so I gave my Chadian Airport Sister a crisp $50 bill, which doesn’t mean that I condone bribery at an official level, but I was really done at this point. We made it all the way to our gate, boarded the plane and flew out on our tour of West Africa--N’djamena to Abuja (Nigeria) to Lomé (Togo) to Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso) to Niamey, which is the only way to get to Niger, a country that borders Chad. I don’t think my heart rate went down until our second or third flight.

We made it on the plane!
I got everyone out of Chad successfully.

Matt and Brandon got out a little after us with many rebooked flights and a hotel stay in Paris. And poor Matt was pretty sick then too. Kadessou went to the airport with them as per my request, knowing that few people there speak English. He told me later that it was mass chaos and if he hadn’t been there to fight for them, they never would have gotten on that plane. N’djamena International Airport is always an exciting place to be.

Crowd of interested villagers

School in Niger

Kids going to school

After the stress of that day, the rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. Niger went smoothly, and the team were impressed by the modernity of the Niamey Airport, the presence of paved roads across most of the places we visited, electricity in the small town where we stayed, a shower in the outhouse instead of buckets, a very interested and involved local government whose help in managing and monitoring water points is crucial to the longterm functionality of the project, and they agreed with me that Niger does appear to be more developed than Chad in spite of its place at the bottom of the UN Human Development Index. This I tried to tell neverthirst when they started their campaign about working in Niger, the poorest country in the world according to the UN. But then Matt teased me that I just wanted to be in the poorest country in the world because it made me seem tougher and that does sound like something I would do so I decided to leave it to them to form their own opinions once they came to visit. And it turns out my opinion was not entirely based on my desire to live in a superlatively hard core country. But in spite of the advanced status of Niger, Jason’s Air France flight to get him back to Australia was cancelled and he had to stay an extra day in Niamey with us. It worked out though because he got to meet with the Prefet (regional government official) of the region where we are working and was given a turban and a leather Tuareg man purse. Everyone else’s travel schedule remained as replanned during our extra day in Chad (the Plan C version, I think, though maybe we were already on Plan D or E at that point), and I made it home and was one of the first people out of the airport, not being constrained by visitors who don't bring pens with them to fill out forms or people who don't have their passport numbers memorized or people who let everyone else get off the plane instead of standing up just before the seat belt sign goes out to make sure to be near the front of the plane when the doors finally open. And Mariassou brought Joe with him in the car to escort me home. So I was very happy for 10 minutes until i got to my house and found out that the Cameroonian bar next door was having a loud all night raucous party on the night I just wanted to sleep. If anyone has any ideas how to get a bar shut down, please let me know because I’ve tried all my ideas, and throwing sand over the wall at them is not making the impact I think it is because it’s still dust storm weather in Chad right now, and there is always sand in the air.

I love getting on planes via tunnel instead of bus.
Niger Airport has tunnels! So advanced

Joe was happy to see me.

Jason ready to Tuareg

Jason, the Prefet (who is a Tuareg) and his presents.
Always fun to get presents when you're already packed up. 

Tara as the Pied Piper, being followed by crowds of children
who are all fascinated by the drone.

Tara and Bob working hard
(not as hard as the women pounding grain, but you know--it's a living.)

Amanda not working hard.
As the assistant, I carried cameras and pretended
that I knew how to take a selfie with it.
"It's for the 'gram!" #theworldsmostexpensiveselfiestick

End of filming success photo!

Minutes later, I captured this gem:

I think we wore them out

How to do this.

Realizing how weak I am

I really loved having the Aussie back out and about.
He's unfailingly cheerful even when flights are canceled, he's feeling sick,
plans are messing up. He asks great questions. He makes great observations.
We are lucky to have him on the team.

He is also very good at taking photos.
He sent this one on the day when I made Tara sleep off her sickness at a hotel.
It made her crazy to be missing this moment.

I forgot about our car breaking down minutes after leaving Niamey.
Even in Niger things happen.

The whole crew with our Security Team

If I ever run for office, definitely I will need to recreate this pose.

Maybe not this one though.

Visitors, Part 1 (with photos from South Africa that are not relevant to the post at all)

Intrepid explorer pose on top of Table Mountain,
photo cred: Claire Bedford

I don’t get many visitors from other continents here in Chad. I get plenty of Chadian visitors, foreign visitors living in Chad, Africans from other countries, so it’s not like I’m short on company. I’m not complaining. Just saying that it is a big deal to have a team of visitors come here. We could blame it on covid stuff, but let’s be honest—even before covid I’d had a grand total of 2 visits from neverthirst people in Chad. This visit really tried hard not to happen too. It was postponed twice and ended up being in the hottest, dustiest part of the year. They got the full experience though.

Thanks to Claire for this photo of me being helpful on an airplane,
translating for a guy in the exit row who could only speak Arabic.
The flight attendant only spoke English (and probably several Ethiopian languages).
The seatmate only spoke English and French. Others in the plane apparently only spoke Arabic.
I offered to help because I didn't want the tall guy to have to move out of the exit row seat he needed for his long legs. The flight attendant was very thorough in telling him everything he needed to know in case of emergencies, and I translated, but fortunately his services were not required.

Planning ahead for this trip was interesting. We had everything planned, then one of the team members tested positive for covid. We postponed a few days, hoping that would sort it out, but the while the person felt fine and was cleared by American doctors for non-covid-spreading travel, the PCR tests were still positive. My covid test guy (who comes to my house to do a PCR test and is really cool about being super gentle—almost doesn’t even touch the inside of your nose—and being really helpful about whatever date he puts on your test) said, “Why doesn’t someone just give your friend a negative PCR test already? They know she isn’t contagious anymore and the PCR tests aren’t accurate for Omicron strains.” And I was told that the American doctor was equally annoyed that we had to have a PCR test saying, “Why don’t they accept this letter written by an American doctor that airlines in the US accept for travel?” But they (Niger) don’t. A negative PCR is a must to enter Niger. Chad recently has decreed that vaccinated travelers don’t need a PCR anymore. At the time of our original plans (Plans A and B), we were going to start in Niger and finish the trip in Chad. We changed that plan for Plan C and started in Chad, but everyone had negative PCRs by then anyway so it didn’t matter. It did mean that my Cape Town Vacation with Claire, intended to be a recovery from two weeks of tour guiding the Americans (and 1 Australian! He made a point to everyone that we met that HE is not American, so I will respect his wish to be Not American even here on this blog that only my mother and one or two other people will read), ended up being “pre-relaxing” in anticipation of a very busy two weeks. I mean, it was nice, but just meant I was a lot chubbier from all our Uber Eats adventures for traveling with the Americans (and Jason, from Australia). On another note: how fun is it to order food from almost any restaurant and have it show up at your door? Claire and I really enjoyed this moment of modernity. Fortunately, as I said, it’s the hottest time of year here in Chad, so we are both back to our pre-South Africa weights.

Pre-relaxing!

Four days after getting back from South Africa, I was waiting in the airport for the visitors. I schmoozed the airport guards (they do love a nasara who speaks Arabic) and told them about how pitiable all my visitors were (even the Australian) as none of them speak French or Arabic and they would probably all be lost in the chaos of N’djamena International Airport if they didn’t let me in to wait for them at baggage claim. I’ve found that very few people in this world share my Airport Competitiveness that means I push through all the people, squeeze through those slowly dragging their roll-y bags, dodge screaming exhausted children, and usually I am one of the first people out of the airport. It also helps that I have a collection of airport forms that I fill out in advance. Claire understands and accepts this adorable quirk of mine, and she can definitely keep up, but groups of people who don’t have all their passport info memorized and all want to stay together for safety in numbers rarely can. Every time we went through an airport for this trip, we were the last people or among the last people to leave the airport. In Niger, they got mad at us for taking so long because we were the last flight arriving and they wanted to go home. I was trying to keep everyone together because I was trying to translate for all of them, but they wouldn’t let me, so I just yelled out commands like “Give them that paper with your visa info on it” or “Now finger prints” and eventually we all got out, though they didn’t give us the right paper and it caused a bit of trouble later (it was sorted without either foreigner, American or Australian, knowing about it).

I won’t get into details about the trip. It was for media purposes. Follow neverthirst on social media and when you start to see some really good photos it was under the artistic direction of one brilliant Tara Shupe with the assistance of one talented Bob Ditty. You can follow them on Instagram too if you want to see some exceptional photos and videos. You’re welcome, Tara and Bob: I’ve now increased your online following by two (2) people. 

Bob working hard while I play with a baby goat.

Starting in Chad was a good idea, I think. You need a bit more energy for Chad, and the team came in ready and excited to be here. Still at the point where bumpy roads are an adventure and the sandy air gives everything a nice dusty color. Open wells where horses ride back and forth pulling up water for people and animals are fascinating and girls riding donkeys carrying baskets with jerrycans of water for the families require an immediate stop for photos. As one of the drivers, I obliged most of the time, startling locals as white people sprouted out of my truck bristling with camera equipment. Most people thought it was great fun, especially the children who screamed “airplane, airplane” at the drone and followed Tara and Bob closely until adults chased them away. I made it clear that if anyone ever said they didn’t want their photo taken, we immediately oblige and walk away. I can only remember that happening once, actually. A beautiful lady in bright red on her donkey laughingly told us to go away. When I translated for the team that she didn’t want her photo taken, they were surprised because she really was laughing as she shooed us away. And we left her in peace because I don’t want to be paparazzi out here—we were trying to tell stories not sell tabloids. And really we had more than enough people actually want to be in photos. 

I don't know who took this photo. It was not the professionals,
but you can see all the interested people, me holding a baby and translating

I do like having visitors because I get to see Chad again through their eyes, but it is a lot of work. I was translating between multiple languages, which is exhausting in itself, plus driving over unpaved roads in the dark because apparently the light is best at sunrise and sunset, and trying to make sure everything was going smoothly. One by one each of my visitors succumbed to various ailments and illnesses brought on by heat, food incompatibility with western intestinal fortitude, and/or dehydration. The Australian held out the longest, which could be a credit to inherent Australian toughness or could be due to the fact that he came from summertime and everyone else came from wintertime. Some of the ailments I knew how to treat myself: sit in the truck with the AC on full blast, drink this bottle of water with rehydration salts in it and eat one of the 5 million power bars you brought with you and you’ll be ok in 30 minutes to an hour. Or take this Immodium pill that some other nasaras gave me a while back that hasn’t expired yet even though I’ve never used them myself. For anything else I couldn’t treat, I went to my favourite health advisor: Dr Claire Bedford, pharmacist extraordinaire. She graciously answered my many calls and sent medical advice and a list of meds to buy. She also advised on the many illnesses I was shown by locals—antibiotics asap for the little girl with an infection on her hand and medical consultation in N’djamena for the little boy with a tumor. To be clear, I like to pretend to be tough but gross skin things do kind of freak me out. I’m glad I am not a doctor, but I wish we had more of them out here in Chad because there are so many needs. And I wish I could take one on trips with me because people are always telling me about their medical stuff and the most I can offer usually is ibuprofen. 

I am teaching Esther to be a baby snatcher.
Esther just started working with IAS here doing communications.
How did she get her job? Easy: she drove her motorcycle into my truck,
and I took her to the hospital and we became friends. 

Before I move on to the other situation where I had to make myself useful, I would like to take a moment to thank Matt for driving two hours from the river back to Moussa’s house after dark on unpaved roads against the express wishes of Mariassou (the other driver) who said, “Amanda, I trust you. You know how to drive here. He doesn’t know how to drive here. He could wreck the car!” But I’d already promised Matt and he was so excited, so I told him that Mariassou had no faith in him, making it clear to him that he really needed to do an excellent job here to prove him wrong, and it was a rousing success. Also I had a nice break from nighttime dusty driving. Matt said it was super fun like a video game. And Mariassou told him he did a good job driving, and he was very proud of winning him over. 

Note: regarding the above photo about Esther driving her motorcycle into my truck--that accident was NOT my fault. I was just sitting there, waiting for my chance to turn when she hit me, so that incident should not define my driving. Mariassou, a professional driver, saying that I know how to drive on Chadian roads absolutely SHOULD define my driving.

Another Note: after I finished writing the whole story of everything that happened in the space of a few hours of Chad traveling to Niger adventure (plus brief description of our time in Niger), I realized that this post was too long for anyone to want to read, so I decided to cut it in half. First half is here, second will come tomorrow or maybe next week if it takes me that long to decide to post it. Instead, please enjoy these non-professional photos of our time in Cape Town because I am not going to blog about it because I'm too lazy, but we had fun.

Table mountain

Beach day

Best friends allow each other to do their own thing:
I wanted to climb Table Mountain, but Claire wanted to take the cable car up.
Neither of us tried to convince the other to changer her mind,
and we both had fun, though only I nearly died of heat exhaustion.

Sure, I'm ready to climb up a mountain at the hottest time of day with no water.
A nice man offered me some, but I had to prove that I could make it.

I liked the hiking views.

And the top of the mountain views.

Our really nice Rwandan driver/tour guide
took this great photo of us.

He also took this one.

Claire is also a good enough friend that she joins me when I insisted on
putting my feet in the sea at the Cape of Good Hope,
even though we had to walk through piles of bug-infested seaweed (not pictured) to get there.

Cape of Good Hope!

Also great friends agree that if you can see penguins for free
right by where you had lunch, then there's no reason to pay to go to the penguin museum.

I almost caught this one.

Claire, looking good, repping the neverthirst hat

Rooibos tea and a caramel cheesecake ball.

More of this later