The Dowry of Dogomadji (Emelie's last name and a nicely alliterative title, but now it's all messed up because I had to explain it to you, thanks a lot 🙄)

Post-ceremony dancing with the bride

Since my meeting this afternoon was postponed until an undetermined time in the future, I have a bit of time to write up the events of the dowry ceremony before I forget them completely in the next few days due to old age and chronic lack of sleep. 

I don’t always get lots of chances in Chad to attend cultural events like weddings and dowry ceremonies. I have a weird work/travel schedule. But I do like getting to be a part of these events because they’re usually interesting and fun. In this case, I didn’t just get to attend a dowry ceremony as the awkward foreign friend invited along to give her a bit of fun, but I was an active participant in the ceremony. 

The most difficult zipper to do by myself,
so I used a coat hanger.

Some background: my friend and colleague, Emelie (mentioned frequently in this blog) is marrying an American who cannot be here in Chad due to coronavirus and other difficulties making it impossible for him to travel at the moment. As Emelie’s sole American friend in Chad, she asked me to stand in for her fiancé’s family. I would have attended with him as a sister if he could have come (we’ve met and we are friends in real life too), but she wanted me to stand in for his mother, as the dowry ceremony is more about families of the bride and groom than about the bride and groom themselves. So now I’m Emelie’s dowry mother in law, and I’ve been told she has to respect me. Apparently before it was optional, but now—I have power. 

Moussa and Nadji insisted on a pre-ceremony meeting the day before
the dôte to make sure we were ready. Joe attended because he takes these meetings very seriously.

Lead up to the dowry ceremony involved Emelie bringing many things to my house—suitcases full of stuff, crates of bottled soda, money, etc. I also went to two meetings with her pastor. I had a dress made in fabric she chose and a design she chose as well. I was also warned strongly, after making too many jokes, not to say ANYTHING until I was told to, and then only to say what I was told. But I will say in spite of all of that,  I did get to make a speech all by myself on the spot in 3 languages to WILD APPLAUSE. Wild. Applause. There were cheers and whistles. For real. I am THAT GOOD. At saying two sentences in Emelie’s tribal language. The rest of the speech was not important. 

Pika inspecting the stuff while Lea is packing it up.

The day of the dowry ceremony, I had the dress and the head wrap and permission to wear my own shoes (since I do not own any light purple heels, as previously established), but I realized that I do not know how to tie a head wrap. I made some attempts, documented them kindly to give some fodder to my friends and family for mocking me, and then called Emelie to ask if she could give me the phone number of a mutual friend who lived nearby to come help me tie up the hair. She reminded me that people from the office, including Marthe, were coming to my house to drive to her house together. I knew Marthe would be up to the task of fixing the head wrap, but before she could even get there, Nadji arrived with his wife and daughter, and his daughter Gloria fixed it right up. Marthe came along a bit later and tucked in bits and made it better, according to her. I just let them tie it on and wished I hadn’t washed my hair that morning because what is the point when it is going to be completely covered? 

My head wrap attempts: the undone topknot, the post-shower towel,
the pirate, the bunny rabbit

Moussa overcome by how amazing my head wrap looked.

Gloria hard at work

She fixed it!

I was told by Emelie that the ceremony started at 9:00. I told everyone to be at my house by 8:30. I myself was ready by 8:15. Moussa, also participating as an American because unexplainable reasons, was also ready and laughing at my attempt at a head dress. He said, “No, no really it looks great…” before collapsing on the couch laughing. I did not believe him. Nadji, Tabita and Gloria showed up around 8:40ish. Tabita widened her eyes at my head dress and immediately sent Gloria into action. Marthe showed up around 9:00, but apparently Dieudonne and Christian were also coming and we needed to wait for them. Also, I had thought that we were going to Emelie’s church, but no, we were going to her house, even though I know her pastor had told me the plan was to do it at the church. Emelie, “Of COURSE it’s at my house it CANNOT be at the church! Why do you not know that?” Me: “Oh maybe because I’m not from here and I don’t know everything!” Emelie had a couple of “dôte-zilla” moments (thanks to Naomi for coining the word from the French word for “dowry”), but it’s understandable considering the stress that comes from planning such events. She also yelled at me the day before for not having a photocopy of my passport to give to the guy coming from the city office as a witness, which apparently I should have KNOWN I needed in spite of never having been a representative in a dôte before. I was all ready to defend my ignorance and insist SHE should have told me a day earlier so that I could have been prepared, but before I could get to it,  Moussa calmly took my passport and went to get it photocopied along with his ID since he also needed his for the ceremony. It’s really nice to have calm, patient people around when in the middle of stressful party planning. Anyway, don’t worry: Em and I are all good. And she has to respect me now because I’m her fake mother in law. 

Selfies while we waited for everyone to arrive

The ladies

At 9:00 when we should already have been at Emelie’s house for the ceremony, you would think that the one Westerner (I mean me) would be stressing about the lateness of our party’s imminent arrival at the other party’s party, but I wasn’t. This could be because I grew up in a culture where “jam karet” (“rubber time,” aka flexible timing) is a thing, and I rarely allow myself to be stressed out by the thought of arriving late (unless it’s to the airport). But actually, as I said to Nadji when he was concerned about time—“they can’t start without us! We are the ones bringing the stuff for the party!” And they all laughed and said I was right. Finally at 9:30 we all departed and made it to Emelie’s house before 10:00. I was driving so it could have been faster, but Nadji was in the back of my truck with three crates of glass soda bottles and I tried to be careful.

Packing up the truck to go to Emelie's

When we got to Emelie’s house, the tent was up outside in her courtyard and the couch/thrones for the parents (including me!) were outside and about 50 of her family members were gathered around (I’m sure we were all less than 50 because of coronavirus rules, but I’m also sure that no one counted). We unloaded the stuff, and we (the ladies) all ululated and carried in the stuff where Emelie’s female relatives all took up the cry. Ululating is really fun, and I’ve always known I would be good at it, but it’s not something you can practice without looking like an idiot because you don’t just go around ululating for no reason. It’s not like whistling tunelessly under your breath while you’re working. It must be done at full volume. Technically there are people who do it at church, but never having been one to “Amen” the pastor in my own cultural context, I feel like ululating in church in this cultural context doesn’t fit my persona either, so like I said, I don’t have many opportunities to practice. Luckily, I have been genetically gifted with powerful lungs and the ability to make noise as needed. And in settings when it is actively encouraged, I can participate effectively.

Off-loading at Emelie's

We put the stuff in the middle of the mat under the tent, and then Moussa and I took the Mother and Father of the groom thrones next to Emelie’s parents in the Mother and Father of the bride thrones. We sat there for a few moments of introductions by the MC, Florent (a cousin of Emelie’s whose wedding I went to last year). Then we were all invited down to sit together around a special carpet with some of Emelie’s male relatives. She doesn’t have any brothers so it was cousins who were there representing her. One of them I know and like, and the other I know and really have some serious issues with his behavior in the past, but for Emelie, who is wonderful, I played nice. Sometimes I can do that. 

Emelie's parents in the thrones, plus her auntie

The stuff with Florent as MC in the background

We all sat around and there were speeches and prayers and the cousins gave their speeches in Guley, Emelie’s tribal language for her family. They translated to French after, as no one representing the groom’s side is from Emelie’s tribe. We were a group of Nanjere, Kwang, Ngambaye, Sarh, and Moundang, plus one American passport holder. All of our side speeched directly in French. And then they saved me for last, hoping that I would have learned a thing or two from listening to other people’s speeches. I gave my two sentences in Guley that I’ve been practicing to, as I mentioned before, WILD APPLAUSE. Then I told them since they speeched in Guley for their tribe, I would speech in English in honor of the Americans whom I represented, which I did, before finishing with a brief “petite résumé” en français at the end. 

Sitting on the rug, ready for speeching

After the speeches, there was a brief awkward pause when everyone looked pointedly at me, and I had no idea why. Tabita whisper-yelled at me to get the money, which I did. I handed over an envelope of money in local currency and in American dollars. I had a moment of panic that they were going to make a big deal that we hadn’t brought enough money. After all, Emelie’s family is quite large, and she’s important, and we hadn’t brought any cows with us, and what if I was supposed to bring a cow, but no one told me (like they didn’t tell me to bring a photocopy of my passport)? Tabita assured me that we were fine, that we had brought more than the amount required by law, and it would be ok. Emelie’s cousins, meanwhile, were struggling to count the US dollars. The cash was in various denominations and they kept coming up with different numbers, and no one asked me to help, so I figured I should stay out of it. Florent, the MC, while waiting for the counting, smirking into the crowd said “I guess counting American money is like counting votes in an American election—it must be done over and over again to get the right number.” I laughed for 10 minutes, but no one else seemed to get the joke. Florent appreciated my appreciation for his comedy. And by the time I was done laughing, the guys were done counting, and we moved on to the next portion of the ceremony.

Counting the money like votes in an American election (still funny)

The bride’s attendants came out with a large wooden bowl that was empty. (Note: Emelie did not come out at all during the whole ceremony.) They said: “it is customary for us to bring out a bowl of water, and everyone drinks water from the bowl, but because of this covid-19, we are not going to do that. We have individual glasses of water for everyone.” So you see, Covid-19 awareness is really helping prevent the spread of communicable diseases through common water bowls at ceremonial events—not all bad! (Though I’ve frequently drunk from communal water bowls and never gotten sick—thanks, parents, for raising me in Indonesia with only half-hearted attempts to convince me to brush my teeth with filtered water and never drink from the tap.) 

The attendants coming in with my cool new giant wooden bowl

They handed the glasses to everyone, and I took a genteel sip, as befitted a genteel lady, before I noticed everyone else was drinking it down. So I chugged quickly to catch up, and put the empty glass on the table with everyone else like I knew I was supposed to do it all along.

Serving the water

Tabita got to drink from the little bowl, 
which we all would have shared except that Covid has improved
our cultural hygiene

The bridal attendants inspected the stuff in the suitcases (which I happen to know they bought and packed in the suitcases because they did it at my house), took the envelope with the money in it and went back to Emelie to discuss. Of course, they know that she knows everything that is there because she arranged for all of this stuff to be purchased and prepared. I realized after speaking with the ladies that it isn’t just because the fiancé isn’t here that Emelie knows everything that is in the bags. Even in a normal relationship where both members of the couple are in town, the woman goes to purchase the stuff while the fiancé trails behind her with the money. I don’t think these ladies trust their future husbands to give them the right kind of surprise at a serious ceremony like the dôte. I said, “So basically, at the ceremony you are approving stuff you already approved when you chose them at the market?” “Yes,” she said, smiling indulgently at me because I’m clearly ignorant. 

Organizing all the stuff the day before the dôte at my house

The ladies came back with the money and said, “While we would like to keep this money for ourselves, we leave it for the family, and instead we take this soap and perfume.” (The soap and perfume having been taken out of the front pocket where they had put it the previous day for easy access.) I’m guessing this is the traditional speech to make at that time. To my understanding, the next day, Emelie’s family and any unmarried girls from the fiancé’s family (sorry to all of them who are in the US), come together at Emelie’s house to take presents from the suitcases, which were full of shoes, make up, cloth, soap, perfume, sugar, and other stuff I can’t remember. I wasn’t allowed to go because I was the fiancé’s mother, but I’m sure it was a lot of fun.

Emelie's parents--isn't her dad cool with his walking stick and his hat!

The adorable Daniela, daughter of Emelie's cousin,
the equivalent of a flower girl, I guess.
She knows she's cute and she knows how to work the camera!
We love her.

After the bridal attendants went back to Emelie’s room, we all prayed and ululated again. Speeches were made about the unity of our families forever, and I was given the large wooden bowl (placed on my head), and we danced out the front gate. Then, we broke protocol and danced back in to see Emelie, which isn’t tradition, but we are all her friends and wanted to see her. We danced around with her in her room for a bit. She looked amazing, hair and make up and pretty dress and I hope that she went out later to celebrate with her family because it seems like a waste to keep her hidden when she looks THAT GOOD (unless that was the point?). 

I love this photo of Emelie because she is so full of joy and we were laughing and dancing

This one shows off the dress more though

Blurry dancing photo from Moussa, I think

We didn’t stay long with Emelie. We piled back into the truck and drove to our office, followed by Emelie’s family members bringing food for us. We wanted to have the party in the office so that all of our colleagues who had to work and couldn’t come with us (it was a Friday) could eat with us. Traditionally the food comes to the fiancé’s family house.

It's over! We finished our duties and we are off to get some food!

Lea dropped off the food at the office for us

It was very delicious!

All gathered around the food

It was delicious food, but I knew we wouldn’t have enough plates sent by Emelie’s family, so I waited to make sure everyone had plates, and then I got an extra plate from our office kitchen and joined in. Kadessou (the new Chadian Country Director) asked me, “Amanda, how long have you been in Africa?” I said, “I first moved to South Sudan in 2013.” He said, “Oh, you seem like someone who was born here. You really get us.” And I think that was the best compliment I had all day. Better than wild applause. And I am thankful for my strange, international, multicultural upbringing that has led to to this strange, international, multicultural family that I have.

And now some more photos, grâce à Moussa for those who made it this far and are still interested:

Me showing Marthe my head wrap attempts.
She said, "Some of these are ok."
She did not say that about the bunny rabbit look.

Another blurry dancing photo

I handed off the bowl to Marthe so I could really dance for a bit

Not sure who took this photo, but Moussa insisted we needed one with a Bible in it.

This is like one of those photos where you find a ghostly image in the background and get all freaked out,
but the white thing is actually me.

Thank you, Moussa, for this really important photo that you took and posted on Facebook.

Also thanks for this one. The world definitely needed to see this.

Loud System Sound Speaker

Got a bit of extra time with these kids, 
thanks President Deby

While in the car with my sister on the way to somewhere, probably a covid test, I forgot how to order words in sentences, but context clues still allowed the conversation to flow. Or possibly genetic brain connections for siblings. But in true sibling fashion, Marian decided she wanted to steal the new words that I had so cleverly strung together for her own creative writing, and I knew I had to act fast and use it first. So this is me, several weeks later, after she’s posted multiple times on her blog and instagram, acting not fast at all. And it is relevant because in spite of a 20:00-5:00 city-wide curfew, local bars have started up their loud system sound speakers at 21:00, and it has been annoying me. Nighttime silence is the only good thing about the pandemic. Why are you taking that away from me with your rule breaking? Wear your masks on your chin, and I will not be the busybody saying anything to you about it, as I’m sure you already know that it is supposed to cover your nose (in French it is literally called a nose-hider), but I will call the police on your after-hours party if I weren’t sure that they were already there and 4 drinks in. 

Weird Mickey Mouse ice cream cones

Recipe from Micah's Disney cookbook

Creative use of available materials,
credit: Auntie

Here is your 2021 update for the 3 people who care (and probably already know): I’m back in Chad. I would once again like to use this moment to advocate for last minute ticket-buying. So far there are only two of us who firmly believe in this system: Leif and me. The rest of you are illogical and/or infrequent travelers. Of course Leif was too last year and it nearly killed him to be stuck in Sweden for almost an entire year. He lives in a beautiful 100 year old red farmhouse on the banks of a picturesque lake in central Sweden, but he is desperate to stay in an always-dusty, cement house with roof rats so we can get stuff done here in Chad. Then he pops over to Sudan to get stuff done there while texting me about a plan we have to get to Somaliland in the near future. I want to be him when I grow up, minus the 17 grandchildren because I just don’t have enough time to make that happen. He bought his ticket to Sudan the day before he left Chad. Once when I was in Sudan, and he was buying me a ticket to Kenya or Uganda or somewhere, he bought it for me the day before I left, and said, “I’m glad you’re not like the other people in the Head Office in Sweden. They always get so worried if they don’t have their ticket in hand before they leave.” 

Here is Leif fixing my ceiling fan.

Here is a meme my sister sent me with the caption:
Amanda buying plane tickets

Now I have neverthirst Head Office people worrying about my ticket-buying. They do not share Leif’s and my laid-back attitude towards trip planning. This didn’t stop them from adding an extra donor meeting into my America time at the last minute. I did not mind that because the donor is a friend of mine, and also because last minute changes rarely bother me. It did mean that I needed to change my return ticket back to Chad. True to form, I waited until near to last minute. I did send an inquiry to the travel agent who has become my go-to in Chad because I try to buy tickets online and then the internet messes up at a crucial spot and I get annoyed. Mahesh (lovely Indian guy who did not do his part to keep the Indian restaurant open in N’djamena when I was gone on some misguided trips a few years ago and it closed for lack of my business) immediately got back to me and gave me some ticket change options and the change fee. I left it for a few days, and then heard that Chad had decided to close the borders and the airport for one week “renewable” (which is a clause they add in every single decree to allow for open-endedness that gives them an easy flexibility and keeps everyone else on the brink of uncertain insanity). My original return ticket was in that airport closure window, which means that my ticket was canceled by the airline, and I didn’t have to pay a change fee when I rebooked. If I had rebooked before the airport closure, properly in advance like a good time-conscious Westerner, then I would have had to pay the change fee. Procrastination saves money! And now, Chad, please open back up to the Brits--they're really not as dangerous as you might think, and many of them are really nice people and have genuinely put their Africa colonizing (colonising) days behind them. Claire needs to come back, and I really need her to come back too because I miss her and I already ate all the gummy bears I brought with me from America.

President Deby thinking about closing the airport indefinitely.

President D probably doesn't know about the Airport Cat
who guards the luggage conveyor belt, but the Cat knows
that his presence is crucial to the smooth functioning of luggage retrieval.

"Why is the nasara taking pictures of the cat?"
"I don't know, maybe she wants to take it home with her."
But I told them no because I already have two dogs.

Cat close up

Anyway, when they opened the airport two weeks later, I was on one of the first flights back. Annoyingly they changed the covid test dates of validity and that meant I had to get another test as the first one was no longer valid, and I had to do some intense searches for 24-hour PCR tests. There is a shortage of those in the US. Why is it such a big country? Finally I found one grâce à une colleague in Alabama who has connections. They charged me $250 and I had to do the test myself. Definitely a rip off. I’m sure I did not stick the thing as deeply into my nose as a professional would have. At any rate, the test was negative and I made it back to Chad where I mostly followed vague and inconsistent government quarantine procedures, but people came to visit me at my house anyway. I busted out a tiny bit early to help Leif get his covid test before he traveled to Sudan. We both continue to defy the odds and remain impossibly healthy. It is our carefree attitude towards life, probably. 

The kids excited to watch me covid test

$250 for this

$30 for this

Wear your iphone Apple print robe
when you go pick up your results.
(You may have to zoom in, but it's the cool guy in the hat on the right.)

It is good to be back. My dogs were so happy to see me and get taken out for walks again. No one else wants to take them because they like to be in charge of where we go. Pika MUST bark ferociously at any dog who looks at her. Joe doesn’t usually pull, but he hasn’t been walking in a while, and I think he’s afraid that every walk will be his last, and so he wants to make sure he sees everything. But he is getting better. Pika is getting a bit less barky because I’m bringing a small spray bottle and that seems to surprise her into silence. She’s been a bit ill lately, and the Chadian vet and I have had fun looking up DIY vet videos on youtube. He said, “You know, my education was mostly about camels and goats and cattle. We never studied dogs. I need to get a smart phone so I can learn more things about dogs.” If anyone know a vet who wants to offer online courses to Chadian vets who want to learn about dogs, let me know. I now know how to say “express the anal sacs” in French so I can translate. 

Pika stole my butter and ate it. 
Maybe that's why she is sick?

Just before Christmas, while out walking Joe and Pika,
Joe snatched a sneaky chicken I didn't see hiding in the bushes.
He has strong hunting instincts. The chicken met a swift violent death in front of her babies.
I told bystanders to get the owner so I could pay. Owner came and said it was a very
special and precious chicken, but he knows my dogs are usually nice dogs and I can pay him
whatever I think is fair. I called a friend for advice, and she told me what to pay but told me
to go back to the scene of the crime and bring the body back so we could make use of it.
I didn't want to reward Joe for his bad behavior, but I also didn't want to be charged 
multiple times for one chicken, so I went back to get the body. There we were met by many young men
who had nothing to do with the situation. They told the owner that I should have paid 4x the amount that I paid and also made sure that all of the chicken's future children had a college fund. They said it in Arabic,
so I also yelled at them in Arabic to butt out. I had had a very long day. They butted out, but the owner,
who had previously been happy with the fair amount that I paid him for his chicken,
suddenly got a call from his uncle, the REAL owner, who said that when chickens are killed
under violent circumstances, there is a 12% increase in payment for their deaths. A quick usage of the
calculator app on my phone, showed him that I had already paid him over 12% more than the chicken was worth. Indeed, everyone before the group of irrelevant interested young men had told me that I had been generous. My guard told me to go inside and stop making things worse and he handled the situation.
I've not seen the kid again since then. And I had a dead chicken in my fridge for 2 days.
Eventually the chicken was prepared and the dogs feasted on the bounty of Joe's successful hunt.
I couldn't find a chicken toy in Walmart, so I got the duck toy, hoping to satisfy Joe's interest in poultry
with a fake bird. He remains uninterested in the fake bird, but Pika likes it.

My other dog concern has been the rats in the roof of the house where Leif stays. He didn’t complain (much) about the rats, but we have the regional director coming in a few days and he wants to stay at that house. It’s not a fancy house, but we rent it, and he wants to get our money’s worth. So he will stay there. I suggested a nicer guesthouse, but he didn’t want that. And I know he can take it—while I’m pretty sure that he views Leif’s and my last-minute lifestyle choices and haphazard administrative skills to be recklessly irresponsible, he is a tough Kiwi who lives in Niger, and he can hack it. But we wanted to get rid of the rats anyway. The house owner said he would take care of it, and he sent us a bag of rat poison. Since I believe that is what killed Flip and made Joe very ill, I am paranoid about it. But it seemed our only option. So Danem and I bought some cucumbers (crack for rats here apparently), covered them with rat poison, and Danem climbed up into the roof space and chucked poisoned cucumbers all over like a crazed fairy tale step mother whose mirror just told her she is NOT the fairest of them all. And then we waited. In total 6 poisoned rats fell out the side of the roof over the course of a day or so. I kept Joe inside with Pika and me all night in case more came out while the guards slept and he ate one, got sick and died. Joe hates being inside at night. I used to try to get him to come back in and sleep inside, but whenever I go out to try to call him in, he goes full alert, runs to one corner of the yard and barks loudly. Then he runs to the other corner and barks again. Then he looks at me to tell me that he is just too busy protecting our domain and can’t possibly be bothered to come in right now. Antani says, “Amanda, that is his job as a dog. Let him do his job.” So I do, usually. But I didn’t want him rat poisoned again. He spent the night barking in my face, trying to force me to get up and let him out, but I stayed strong. But I only lasted one night like that. The next night I let him sleep outside. By that time we hadn’t had any more dead rats in several hours, and we’ve not had any more since then. I know at some point we need to go up to the attic to see if there are any bodies remaining, but I’ve not done that yet. Leif said the rats seemed to be gone, so we will hope that our efforts were successful.

Danem and the poisoned cucumbers

I knew he would never let me actually do the job,
but I like to climb things so I also went up.

I locked Pika and Joe out of the house
while we were poisoning rats,
and she cried like she was dying,
which she would have done if she had eaten rat poison.

And that’s the news for now. But there should be more soon because I’m representing Emelie’s fiancé in her dowry ceremony on Friday, and I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’ve been told to say nothing but what people tell me to say. And also to bring all the stuff for the ceremony that she has been storing in my house. And I was told to say nothing after I made several jokes about things that I wanted to say, and she laughed kindly before demanding complete silence and my best behavior for the ceremony. I will try. But I did laugh at her when she asked me if I had purple heels to match the dress she is having made for me to wear. No, I definitely do not own any purple shoes. 

This blog is over except for some photos for the interested. Many of these I posted on my new instagram account. I joined up to support a budding authoress, the talented Marian Frizzell, as she builds an online presence to convince someone to publish her novel, which I read and really liked. You should all go follow her on Instagram. I've also discovered that I, person who wears all her clothes when it is less than 25C out, love watching people climb up ice bergs and dive into slightly frozen lakes, so I'm following Marian and every Nordic country account that I find. I also like the surf and scuba dive accounts because I live in the desert. It's always good to have a new time waster in one's life, isn't it? What else would I do with all this time?

Rosie was not invited to the big kid birthday party
at the trampoline park, so we went for coffee--
well, only Marian had coffee, Rosie had hot chocolate and I had tea.
And Rosie had Attitude. As she always does.

I only like cooking for people who appreciate it.
The bro in law loves these deep fried Indonesian snacks
that I always make on New Year (bala-bala).
Charis wanted to help. She was unsure if she would like eating them though.

You have to get messy to make these.

We didn't make enough. Once the girls decided
that they liked them, they went fast.

Ah, yes, bala-bala in front of a roaring fire...
classic picture of homey coziness.

A few days later in a country where the sun shines hot,
Joe lurks under the table, waiting for Emelie to get back
so that we can start the party already and eat all the food she cooked.

Kadessou is the new Country Director for IAS Chad.
Leif is going to retire, meaning that he has more time to run around the world
doing even more projects. We have a lot planned.

Joe and Pika watch anxiously for any dropped morsel of food.

Emelie shows off the purple coat IAS Chad office
had made for Britt (Leif's wonderful, long-suffering wife).

A camel-skin briefcase for Leif.
I think he likes it.

Goodbye from Joe and Pika. Go do something important:
Save the whales, get a snack, adopt a puppy.