Defeated

A few months ago I had a day when Chad defeated me. It was miserable hot here. I know people assume that it always is, but there are different levels of heat and this was a top level. My AC doesn’t work well (some may say that it doesn’t work at all, but I get hopeful sometimes), so I had fans on me (yes multiple fans) and every time I got up to leave the vicinity of the fans, I felt warning prickles in my skin before sweat immediately started pouring. Also upon getting up there was always a puddle of sweat wherever I had been sitting, on the other side of my body from the fans. The power was rarely on for a full day and almost never on two consecutive days. We were constantly having to use the generator, which means we were constantly having to put fuel in it and also repair it because it was always breaking down. Our generator uses diesel, which was a problem because there were constantly diesel shortages around town, which also affected my truck because it uses diesel too. 

In my mind, I'm really tall. Then I see photos like this.

When you’re constantly hot and sweating and can’t get away from the misery of it, you’re often also cranky—not just us weak foreigners either, because no one is immune to these temperatures. So hot, sweaty, cranky and of course—covered in dust because this is the Sahel.  

There was one particular day when I needed to leave the house to go take a kid to the hospital for a surgery he desperately needed that I’d promised to arrange for him. He and his father had come in from a rural village in the area where we have been doing water projects. The boy had a tumor on his genitals that had been there for years, slowly growing. He’d come into the city to get help once, but it was when the hospitals were on strike. Disappointed and discouraged, the family had given up on finding help for him. Fortunately, hospitals are not on strike anymore. We were able to find surgeons who could help him, and they told me that the tumor was from a parasite similar to the Guinea worm (look that up if you want nightmares) and he got it from dirty water. This was a good reminder to me of all the secondary consequences of lack of clean water—not only thirst and dysentery but tumors caused by parasites. And I don’t have to look up horrifying pictures on the internet because Chadians, made of sterner stuff than I am, love to send me scary photos of tumors and stab wounds and infections, which I am totally unqualified to do anything about so I call Claire usually. Although now sometimes I ask Manon, who worked on an ambulance in France. She is my neighbor living in the other house in my compound, from France, but as anti-French sentiment is high here, we are telling people she is from near Geneva (true) and letting them assume she’s Swiss. She’s wonderful anyway, and Joe, Pika and I love to have her around. Anyway, all of that was beside the point…

This kid was so tough and stayed so cheerful.

I taught him to make origami frogs and jump them into cups.

Everyone loves Manon, especially Joe and Pika

Back to the story, I was hot, sweaty, cranky, and needed diesel for my car and the generator (because we had no electricity). I had to pick up the kid to take him to the hospital that evening and was supposed to give blood too (O negative for the win!) though that got canceled because they ended up having enough. I decided to go out and get diesel, but I had to go by the ATM to get cash first. So I loaded Joe up in the truck (he loves a car ride) and went out to go run my errands, but there were workers outside digging a trench between the paved road and the dirt road that I live on. In order to get anywhere from my house, I need to get out to the paved road because the other side of my neighborhood is a river. I asked the guys what they were doing and how long it would take, and they grunted something about an internet cable (which if it HAS been put in, I have not benefited from it at all) and that they have no idea when they would finish. I wasn’t very nice to them, and then I was mad at myself for not being nice when they were doing manual labor in the hot sun probably while fasting (it was Ramadan). I went around the block to get to another road out, but I could see them digging that way too, so I realized that I needed to finish my errands quickly or I would get stuck. I dashed to the ATM, but there was no cash. I went to another one. Also no cash. I went to the fuel station—no diesel. I went to another one—no diesel. I’m now very low on fuel in my truck and have no money and I’m still hot and sweaty and cranky and now I’m also worried about getting back into my house. I decided to run back to my house so I didn’t get stuck outside with Joe. I made it back in from one block further down. 

Pika knighting Joe as Lord High Defender of the Compound against the Roof Cats

I parked my truck and let Joe out and then vented to our guard about how I’m now stuck—no money, no diesel, no way out of the neighborhood and what am I going to do? I said to him, “Chad has defeated me today!” 

Great to have a brother like this guy!

But then because I still had to get stuff done, I called my people. I called Mariassou to pick me up outside on the paved road to take me to an ATM. He came. He drove me around. We found zero (0) ATMs with cash. He took me to the office where Kadessou loaned me some money. I called Djibrine who can always find any random thing I ask him for to bring me some diesel. He popped over to my house with a jerrycan full of diesel he got from God knows where and helped me fill up my truck. He had extra for the generator. I now had money to pay him. He also brought me a roasted chicken with fried potatoes and hot sauce because he knows I love it and he likes me. 

Djibrine, looking like he's posing for Chadian GQ

We visited on the Eid and had lots of amazing food and fun.

Later that day the trench was covered over and I was able to get out and take the boy to the hospital where the nurses were very kind and friendly to him and his father, both of whom are completely illiterate and couldn’t even read the number on the door of their hospital room. Nesie and I sorted food and blankets for them. While we were there, Abiner and Sabit took Joe and Pika for their afternoon walk, without which they annoy everyone by running around the yard barking all night. 

Sabit takes such good care of my dogs

Manon, treating a foot wound Joe acquired in his eternal fight against the roof cats.

Since this blog is usually about funny things that happen or adventures I get to have, I thought it might be honest to admit that, while I do love living in Africa, I’m not always as tough as I hope you think I am. But as I look back on the craziness of that day, and how annoyed I was at everything and how I felt defeated by Chad and frustrated with how difficult it was just to do basic things, I realized that even when life in Chad sucks sometimes, I’m lucky to be there because I get to be with my wonderful Chadian friends who are Family to me—picking me up, loaning me money, bringing me diesel and chicken, walking my dogs. And the truth is that life is hard—here and everywhere else too. I have no regrets living here, even when I’m just a weak, whiny white girl. I’m thankful for the people I have around me who are always there for me and I’m thankful that I get to be here for them too sometimes.

Chad

Antani loves Joe enough to let him come into her house when we stop by to visit.
And Joe expects nothing less because he thinks he is a human and why should he wait in the car?

Antani prepared food for Joe as an honored guest since he doesn't take tea.

Spoiled dogs owned by one spoiled nasara.
Anina jalhaneen! Nous sommes vraiment gâtés.

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!

 

How to Beat the Heat

Sunshine makes me happy.
And happy people climb totem poles.

These days, I’m so thankful to Facebook. Every morning, Facebook is there to tell me that “it’s going to be a hot day in N’Djamena today. The forecast shows a high of 44C.” What would I do without this advanced knowledge? It’s unlikely I would have even noticed the sweat dripping down my back between my shoulder blades. I might have thought there was some weird African bug crawling on me.

I’m ok with a bit of heat, as you may have noticed if you are a regular reader of this blog (HI MOM!). I was born in the desert and raised on the equator. I love the sun. And 44C is only 111F and I am doing ok. True, if my landlord had followed through with fixing my AC, as he had promised to do, I would be even better. It’s not so much that I like AC (I don’t really like it—it makes me cold), but if you have AC, you can keep a room cool with it, even when the power goes out (which happens a lot now that it’s hot and everyone is trying to use their AC to cool down their rooms). I don’t have this in my house, so I have a few other creative means of staying cool. And by staying cool, I mean that I am sweating, but at a rate that can still be replenished by drinking water.

Most of the day I’m out at work where we have the perfect AC in my office—a partially-functioning one. It gets the temperature down to about 32/90, which is ideal. So my ‘beat the heat’ options really only apply to the evening.

Brownies with crackers
in them are also a good snack.
Yeah, I ate them all myself with a
fork right out of the pan,
because it was dinnertime.

Note: I would like to mention a couple of options that have been suggested to me as ways to “beat the heat” that are not technically possible here. These include A) the cold shower and B) the consumption of ice cream. A) The cold shower is impossible because my faucets no longer provide me with cold water. Water from the faucets is always warm now, which I like because warm showers are cozy. B) The consumption of ice cream is ideal, but not when your power is unreliable. Case in point, the other day when I got home from work, what was my first clue that the power was off? My house smelled like melted butter. While this is not an unpleasant smell, it does make the inside of the fridge rather drippy. Hot melted ice cream is fine as a snack, but not as a way of keeping cool.

On continue…

Me and my new best friend
(we commemorated our love through selfies, like real friends do).
The water sprayer doesn't work anymore,
but my face is already wet (sweaty), so NBD.

In Chad, most people sleep outside during the hot season. This is a good idea. There is usually some kind of breeze and temperatures outside are cooler than inside. Unfortunately, I live on the second floor of an apartment building. I can’t drag my bed outside because there is no place to put it. Also, I don’t think it would be super-appropriate for me to sleep outside alone here (in my underwear-sleepwear of choice these days), even though my evil neighbor has moved out! (I like to think that I drove him to it by being extra-annoying, but it’s possible that he just moved out because he found a place he preferred to live.)

Since I can’t sleep outside, I really rely on my fans to keep the air moving in my house. When the electricity goes, I have a cute little battery-operated fan that was given to me in a very roundabout way (Minga gave it to Tara who told me to keep it because I was having electricity problems, and now she doesn’t want it back, which is good because I never planned to give it back anyway). This little blue thing is enough to keep one part of my body cool at a time—face or leg or back of the neck or one arm. I can balance it on a pillow next to me while I sleep, but I also have another sleep solution: the frozen water bottle. 

Pre-jungle Amanda,
of the Pil-Pil days.

I’ve started sleeping with a frozen water bottle. This is great because I have to hold something while I sleep—a habit developed from childhood when I slept with this ratty old pillow my mom made me that I called “Pil-Pil.” She made me throw it out when I went to college, and I feel a bit guilty over that still—too many readings of The Velveteen Rabbit will do that to you.  These days, I clutch that frozen water bottle near to my chest and let it melt all over me and the bed. This keeps me cool, and by the middle of the night, when it is all melted, I can drink it to start replenishing all the fluids I’ve lost by sweating, now that the frozen water is gone. It’s a very efficient system. (I recently had to explain that this is a frozen bottle of drinking water, not in fact, one of those rubber hot water bottles filled instead with ice. Apparently this makes the fact that I drink it less gross. But I work with two clean water organizations-Amanda doesn't waste water.)

But it is true that the heat is getting a lot of people down. I respect that, but still it’s such a great unifier. Everyone is in this together. Everyone is just trying to survive. We ask each other, “How are you doing with all this heat?” The preacher in church on Sunday brought it up to illustrate the importance of staying joyful in tough times. I laugh with the attendants checking my bag for bombs and dangerous weapons (like I keep those in such an obvious place) about how at least they get to work in air-conditioned hotel lobbies. It's so nice to have an automatic conversation starter and/or sermon topic. 

So no, the heat doesn’t get me down. I’m kind of thriving on it right now (though I have started waiting until the very last minute before I leave my house to put clothes on). My ‘beat the heat’ suggestions should be taken with a grain of salt, as I beat the heat when I was born. But put me in the cold weather and watch me melt into a puddle of tears (ironic since I should be freezing in the cold and not melting—so much for accurate water metaphors). I will put on all my clothes, curl up in a ball under all the blankets I stole from various airlines around the world, and look up ways to treat frost bite and hypothermia on my phone from my cave under the covers. And when you finally agree to turn the AC back up to 25C/77F, we can be friends again.

Jungle style--only for photos because again,
I LIKE the sun (and skin cancer probably someday).

A different desert than where I am now, but still fun.
I love when the air blows hot in your face like a hair-dryer.

PS: You’re welcome, Americans, for the Fahrenheit conversions.  God bless all of your hearts.

Herve's daughter appreciated the American flag I gave her.
Or Herve appreciated it anyway. He has a high level of American patriotism
that can put other bearers of the Blue Passport to shame.