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.

Sudans Story Time

They say "a picture is worth a thousand words." So how about I give you a thousand pictures and two thousand words--a bonus present! 

South Sudan and Sudan time for me is usually fun, and this trip is no exception. But it is stretching on a bit longer than I'd planned because of visa stuff (this time, surprisingly, not at all related to any Canadian interference), and I'm worried about the revenge that will be meted out upon me by the lonely Felix. I've been told that he has been amazingly mellow since I've been gone, but that makes me wonder if he is saving up all of his malice for me. Baby-sitting this cat has affirmed to me why I do not have pets: my travel life is spontaneous and frequent. Planning for someone to come and make sure the cat stays alive while I'm gone and does not tear the whole house to shreds is not easy. While I do want a pet (preferably a giant cuddly dog), I do not have a stable life. It's also why I cannot adopt any children at the current moment. Fortunately, as you will see, my friends have lots of cute kids that I can use to curb that maternal instinct. 

On to stories:

An Arabish pun. If you speak Arabic, you'll get it.
I thought it was kind of clever, but I am
someone who really appreciates car art and car slogans.

After figuring out a plan to counteract the visa issues caused by Canadians, I had to quickly change all my previous travel engagements, moving everything up a day. This had the unfortunate consequence of making it imperative for me to take public transport from Juba to Yei, a journey of about 5 hours over roads riddled with craters and fraught with armed bandits. For real. My boss called me nearly in tears begging me not to go. He reminded me that at this time last year I was running through the jungle because "I didn't listen to the voices inside my head telling me to leave." That is a paraphrase, not a direct quote. To be fair, I did listen to the voices, and I tried to leave, but MAF couldn't get there before the fighting started. Anyway, he never actually told me that I wasn't allowed to go by road and so we never found out if I would have obeyed his direct order. But I took necessary precautions: I left my expensive and important things in Juba with a friend (it's actually pretty entertaining to think through which of your possessions you would be ok with having robbed from you at gun point), and I wore a tan hat. I theorized that the beige color of the hat would match my skin, making it look like an outfit and not a rich khawaja. It must have worked because we were not hijacked.

The criss-cross of knees in the back of the car.

I climbed into the car, large mostly-empty bag clutched between my knees. I was on the edge, by the door. This is the worst spot for bouncing, but I like to be by the window, so I don't mind it too much. I like to look out and admire the scenery. But no one else seemed intrigued by the green green grass and pretty mud houses. Amazingly, several people actually slept on this ride, heads bobbing around. But I was most impressed by the man who stayed asleep even after we hit one more pronounced bump that sent my butt two feet up in the air. I was weightless for one moment before crashing back down. I looked across the car, and everyone was awake except for that one dude. I mean, seriously. He was that cool. Didn't even open an eye. I, on the other hand, ended up with bruises on my elbow and shoulder from crashing into the door and didn't enjoy the sensation of sitting down for several days after the journey. Did you know, your teeth really can rattle in your skull? I can testify.

And now prepare for photos of Repent's adorable kids because I like them so much. And they LOVE having their picture taken. And also playing with the Guitar Tuner app on my phone.

How cute is Halina? There is no answer.
But her head was covered in ringworm, which I fully
thought I would contract due to proximity and kissing her
all over her little face every day, but so far I'm good.
I got ringworm once from a little boy who
leaned his head on my arm and fell asleep on me
in the Mundri Express a couple years ago, but
this time I seem to come through OK.

Joy told me that the kids were running to every car that
passed by their house for 2 days looking for me. :)

Oliver is not sure he likes how he looks with khawaja hair.

Pulling on my skirt.

I spent too much money on this doll-more than
it was probably worth, anyway. It is all cloth and seems like
someone who knows how to sew (i.e. not me) could easily
make it. But last time I was in SSudan, I was searching for
a doll for Halina, who was rolling up clothes and pretending to
rock them in imitation of her mother with her baby brother.
I didn't even find one of those horrifying white-kid dolls,
but I didn't want to buy that for her anyway. I was happy
to find this doll, which I liked, in the airport in Ethiopia,
and I'm glad I got it. She LOVED it. She carried it
around everywhere and woke everyone up screaming when
she couldn't find it next to her in bed. A toy that one kid
loves that annoys the rest of the family=SUCCESS!

Laundry drying in South Sudan.
I'm going to post lots of photos like this on Neverthirst instagram.
I do not have my own instagram because my life cannot involve
too many social media platforms and I'm already used to Facebook
(I'm old).
But I like to look at the followers for our Neverthirst page, and
I get really competitive about it, so follow Neverthirst on instagram, OK?

Painting Halina's toenails. She is very serious about it.

Gadi and Oliver and the cheap plastic
car I bought the boys in the market in Yei.
I had to buy them something, since I got the doll.
I predicted it would break the first day, but it's still going strong!
Made in China.

Painting Tabu's toenails. I actually brought the
nail polish because I wanted to bond with her.
She works so much, I don't often see her play, and she's only 10!
But this time, she really relaxed around me and we had fun.
She is beautiful, just like her gorgeous mom.

That's the kitchen in the background.
I had some amazing food, cooked by the wonderful Joy.

And then the boys insisted on getting their toenails painted too.
So we did. Because why not?
I can't remember who took this photo, but it's too bad
you can't see that I'm painting Ruben's toes here.

Jungle-running friends!

And sometimes you got to put three people on a motorcycle,
and go to work. We took this motorcycle-selfie, so
you can't tell that we are on a motorcycle at all, but I can testify that
we were, and my butt still has a dent in it from the metal bar
on the back of the bike.

Yes, I took this photo of the chicken with her babies all lined up.
I took it for my nephews and nieces, but I haven't sent it to them.
Maybe my sisters will show their kids this photo on the blog.
Meanwhile, you all can enjoy this photographic masterpiece.

We happened by this flipped over car on the road.
No one was hurt, so I took the photo.
It is a good reminder of why you should always pray
for me when I'm traveling because this could easily happen
to anyone driving too fast over dirt roads.
And of course, everyone drives too fast over dirt roads,
even me.

New baby goat born just an hour before this photo!
(Also intended for the nephews and nieces)

I think Ruben took this beautifully centered photo.
I like it because Tabu and I are bonding while Halina tries
to rub her ring-worm head all over my face.
This is Repent and Joy's room behind me and behind their house,
is the tukel I stay in (mud painted green and blue with grass roof).

Of course Oliver is a happy baby--he's Repent's kid!

Oh I love these crazy boys. I want them to grow up in
a peaceful country, go to university and have happy successful
families--like their own happy family, but without having to
run to the jungle to get away from fighting.
I want them to have a future and a hope.
And I want to buy them lots of candy. I can't help it.

The open road! Isn't this a beautiful country?

I love riding miles into nowhere and suddenly you see some grass roofs
popping up behind the elephant grass, and you know that people are out here,
living and working the land. I want to see development come to South Sudan,
but I hope they don't lose all of their traditions. I don't really like calling these houses
"mud huts" (though I probably have done that before, even here on this blog). They
are beautiful houses, most of them made with care. And they are cool in the summer time,
and the rain falls softly on their grass roofs, not loud and angry like tin roofs (though I also like that),
obscuring conversations. Repent pointed out the rain thing to me--he likes grass roofs too.

I love this photo. Joy is a beautiful and wonderful mother.
I bought that outfit for Oliver. I searched every shop in the
market in Yei to find one selling clothes for babies that
were new and clean. Youngest babies spend most of their lives in hand-me-downs,
but Oliver has a new cute outfit just for him.
And he is too much cute.

Gassing up the motorcycle before our trip from Morobo to Yei
(about 2.5 hours). Just prior to this we were warned that
a motorcycle traveling the same route the previous day
had been hijacked. So we watched the road carefully ahead of us,
and we made it. I wasn't even wearing my hat!
(I learned the hard way that you don't wear hats on motorcycles.)

I got to see my good friend Mary and her new baby in Yei.
We went to church together in Mundri and she was one of the
few who actually came over to my house occasionally to hang out.
She is now living in a refugee camp in Yei. 

"Be at the airstrip at 8:00am" said Momentum Air ticket.
The plane arrived at 1pm. Even with the flight only taking 30 minutes,
I would have arrived in Juba earlier if I had just taken public transport again.
Oh well. Yei is scenic.

Got to hang with this guy in Juba! He is back in South Sudan after spending the last several years studying in
the US. He left behind the good life to go back and help build up his country. I'm proud of him,
but I know that it won't be easy. Once you live somewhere else, it enters your heart, and you change
and your home changes, and you will always miss somewhere you're not. But it's worth it to have a bigger heart.
I think so, anyway.  

After I got back to Juba, I went back to immigration and waited hours in line to finish a bunch of stupid paperwork. But I didn't wait as many hours as the other khawajas who do not know how to cut in line. Suckers. I overheard one guy standing in line quietly like a moron on the phone with someone, "I've been here for hours but I still haven't been able to pay. I can't get to the window and people keep going in front of me." Poor little American boy. He didn't want it enough, I guess.

In the end, a combination of Arabic and mostly non-existant Moru got me through. And many prayers and somehow Badr Airlines got me to Khartoum. Khartoum has been hot, dusty, and often without electricity. But I found gummy bears in the store, so who's complaining?

Also, I've realized that the Asian is strong in me these days. On my way to Morobo in a small taxi sedan, I was sitting up by the driver and I said something about how he must have gotten his car from Uganda because it has a British-side steering wheel, though South Sudan decided to go with the Sudan system, which is American-side. He looked over across the man whom he had sat down on the armrest in the center of the car, between whose legs he was calming shifting gears, and said, "Oh, what side of the road do they drive on in China?"

I was a bit startled because I didn't know that he was aware of the time I had spent in that country, and I didn't want to assume that he assumed I was from China. I said, "It's the same as South Sudan and America. Do you think I am from China?"

"Yes," he said. "How do they drive there?" We continued to have a conversation about China, and I never enlightened him as to my actual origins.

Fast-forward to the shop I was at the other day, talking to the man selling dates that I'm going to have to buy as presents for people in Chad. "So you're Japanese, right?" he said to me, after telling me the price of the dates.

"You think I'm Japanese?" I said, smiling.

"Yes, you look Japanese. You mean you're not?"

To be fair, though, all us Asians look alike. 

Shopping with Abdelrahim. Last time I went shopping  here it was with Abdelmukaram.
Once I went to this souq with Selma.
I don't want to gender-stereotype, but I'm going to.
I have to admit that here, I would much rather shop with men. Selma walked my legs off in this souq.
This is the Selma who collapsed on the floor after 5 minutes of yoga and laid there for 30 minutes.
I thought I'd killed her. But she killed me in the souq.
I am not a huge shopper. I like to know what I want, go in, and get it, and get out.
Shopping with Abdelrahim and Abdelmukaram was great. Once they knew what I wanted,
they helped me find it, helped me bargain down the price, and helped me find my way out because I was
completely lost in the maze of shops.
Look how nonchalantly he stands in this lingerie store where I was buying a jacket.
For real--I was buying a jacket! I don't know why there is also lingerie hanging around.

I have enjoyed screen-shotting the weather here. It's mostly impressive if you look at the time it was when it was 113/45, 106/41, 100/38.

I still managed to buy ice cream and walk home before it melted.
And then eat it for dinner.

And we had no electricity, so no AC or fans.
But it was NOT clear at all--it was a raging dust storm.
Stupid App.

Finally it updated, hours later, to show the dust storm.
It didn't do it justice.

Can you see my footprints?
I took photos once the electricity came back on.

The dust always blows in under the door.

Usually you go to the bathroom to get clean, but not this time.

Should have put a cover on my toothbrush

I told you that I appreciate car art.
This one says: Don't forget to remember God.
Such a grandiose slogan for such a non-descript car.

Zuhoor's beautiful new baby.
She is called Ashaq--starts with an ع ends with a ق,
two of the hardest letters to pronounce for an English speaker.
I was entertained by Paul and Almaz trying to say it.
But more by how patiently Zuhoor repeated and repeated it for them,
as if she expected them to be able to get it right. 

Me and precious Baby.

The beautiful Almaz and baby Ashaq, who is
enamored with Paul, not pictured.
On an unrelated note: Almaz makes amazing Ethiopian/Eritrean food.
Paul just admitted it is how she won his heart. But I mean, he's an Irish guy from
Boston, so it probably wasn't that hard.
In conclusion, I work with interesting people.

It takes a long time to write thousands of words and post thousands of pictures. I'm finally done and I'm going to go eat Cheezballz for dinner. The first day I got here, I was sitting in my room naked (because no electricity and it was 115/46 outside) also eating Cheezballz. The electricity came back on, and I thought, "Should I put on some clothes now? Nah. I'm eating Cheezballz." And the moral of the story is "Eat Cheezballz. Wear clothes if necessary."