Party!!!

            I’ve heard that a SM year is supposed to be all about new experiences. And it’s true. I’ve also heard that in order to take full advantage of the opportunities during the year, you should always say yes, whenever anyone asks if you want to go somewhere and do something. A couple of weeks ago, I heard Charis and Masha talking about a festival that was going to be happening in Lai. My interest was piqued and I started asking questions. When was it? Where was it? Can I go too? I was excited; it was going to be my first time out of Bere since I had arrived.

            The day before the festival was scheduled to start however, the sky opened up and it rained. It rained all day long. This might not be a problem if you live in the States, but when all the roads are dirt and the main transportation is by motorcycle taxi, rain means bad things. The festival was postponed until the following week. I was bummed, but a week goes by quickly. Two days before it was scheduled to start I was down with malaria.  Joy. Now I didn’t think I’d even feel like going. Then Charis heard on the radio that it had been moved back one more day, so by the time it was supposed to start I was back on my feet ready to go.

            Thursday morning I woke up to rain. I texted Charis to see if we were still going, she said Naomi wasn’t worried about the weather as it would most likely clear up. When I got to the SM hut where we were to be picked up by klondos, I found Charis reclaiming the building from a colony of ants that had laid siege to it during the night. She washed some out with water, and sprayed the remainders with insecticide.

            After waiting almost an hour for the tardy klondo men, we were off to the market to meet up with Naomi, then on to Lai. I fell in love with motos on that trip. I was already excited about the festival, and when you add on top of that the absolutely freeing feeling that comes from letting the wind fly through your fingers and hair, you get something I imagine would be similar to a high Miki.

            When we actually got into Lai, we discovered that the festival wasn’t scheduled to begin until the next day. We were so bummed. We’d been planning on going to this thing for a week now. Instead of just turning around and going back to Bere though, we decided to have a party of our own. We had brought along a video camera to document the festival, and now we started to use it. The law doesn’t allow for the use of a video camera within Lai, but we could use it on the bridge and along the river. So we did. I’m not sure exactly how, but we ended up having a dance party on the bridge. Charis turned on music from her phone and we did a variety of traditional African dances brought to us by Naomi, Jamaican dances brought by Charis, and ridiculousness brought by me. Of course we also attracted a crowd of men who were laughing at the crazy women dancing on the bridge. A couple of them threw in some of their own moves as well. It was so crazy and fun!

            When we were done dancing, we decided to go down to the river and see if we could find a fisherman who would be willing to take us out in his canoe. However, when we started walking away from the bridge our klondo men showed up and insisted that they would take us down to the river. We were more than willing to accept the ride. They then got off their motos and accompanied us down to help us secure a canoe ride. It was so awesome! And they didn’t charge us any extra for the short trips they took us on. We finally convinced a fisherman to take us out in his boat, and those guys are so strong! They were paddling with such ferocity every stroke made me almost lose my seat as the boat shot forward.

            After our boat ride, the klondo men drove us into town so we could walk around the market and wait for a restaurant to finish making food. Naomi was still on a roll and insisted on buying us bananas and tea. The first tea I’ve had in Tchad and it sure was tasty! The restaurant served us something that looked like a rice crepe and some sauce. It was different than what I’m used to eating in Bere, but it was pretty tasty. Once our meal was over, our faithful klondo men showed up once again to take us home to Bere.

            The next day we returned to Lai to attend the actual festival. It was a good day, but consisted of a lot of waiting. Neither Naomi nor Charis had ever attended this festival before so none of us knew what to expect. Once again our klondo men showed their knack of appearing right when we needed a ride somewhere, something I was very thankful for by the end of the day. There was a boat race, which was pretty cool to see, except the other spectators came flying down the bank of the river to see and nearly pushed Charis and I over right as the race began. But people were so helpful. They guided us around and helped us figure out where we were supposed to be next.

At one point when we were walking along the road, a pickup truck pulled up beside us and offered us a ride. Charis and I hopped into the bed of the truck, and Naomi slid into the back seat. When they stopped to drop us off, they all jumped out of their truck. It turned out to be a musician and his band. We took pictures with them and said thank you for the ride. It was pretty cool.

Right before we left Lai, we discovered why the boat race had taken so long to take place and why the dancing that was supposed to be happening that afternoon hadn’t started yet. Evidently because this festival was supposed to be a time for the very traditional Lai people, after dark you were supposed to stay indoors unless you were a Lai so that they could perform their secret rituals and traditions in private. This had been announced on the radio multiple times, it was something that everyone knew. One Arab man didn’t listen. I’m not sure if it was just him or if he had a friend with him, but he went to wherever the Lai were doing their thing. Of course this didn’t make the Lai very happy, so they murdered him and whoever might have been with him, then took the bodies, threw them over their motos and burned them. I was already tired and ready to go back to Bere, but now I was even more so. People can be so sick sometimes.

There is still so much work that needs to be done here. And it’s such slow work too. There are people in the church here who are still afraid of the curses. Sometimes I wonder if the people actually know Jesus, if they’ve ever actually experienced Him, or if they’re just going to church because that’s the thing to do. It makes me sad. And it makes me realize how much I need Him to be in me if I’m going to make any difference at all while I’m here.

A Day

            “Good Morning! Wake up to a brand new day…” I groan and fumble under my pillow to find my phone and shut the alarm off. It’s 5:00, waaaayyy too early to be waking up today. David and Sarah came up from Bendilay to make ice cream last night, and as a result I was up until midnight. I roll over and go back to sleep. I wake up again at 5:30. The roosters have begun filling the air with their morning cries and even my earplugs can’t drown them out. I still don’t want to get up, but going back to sleep isn’t an option. Thankfully, I’m not being serenaded by Justin Bieber singing “Baby, Baby, Baby” over the radio like I was yesterday morning.

            Abria brings me my breakfast when I finally convince myself to get out of bed. The rest of the family has already eaten and most of the kids have already headed off to school. I sit down to eat. Emmanuel, my house dad, motions me over to where he is sitting with Sedonnie and Batama. I get back up and walk over to see what he wants. Batama is sick. I don’t know why. I have to explain to Emmanuel, I’m not a doctor. It seems that all white people are automatically supposed to be doctors. When I leave to go to the hospital, Sedonnie has tied Batama on her back as if he were a baby. He is limp against her, definitely not the active three-year old with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes that he normally is.

           

            My eyes sparkle as I read the email from my sister. It’s full of random news and I love it. Parts of it make me laugh out loud. I wonder if Charis thinks I’m crazy as I sit there laughing at my computer. It feels good to hear from my family and friends. It’s easy to feel disconnected and alone out here.

            “Madame?” I turn to see who is speaking. A patient with a box of pills starts speaking to me. I have no idea what he is saying. I look at him helplessly and tell him “Je suis ne pas docteur.” I think he gets what I’m saying, even if it’s all mispronounced and grammatically incorrect. I don’t understand where they got the idea that just because I’m white I’m medically inclined. Sure I’m wearing scrub pants, but I have a tank top on, and I’m working on stenciling a Bible verse on the wall.

            “Ugh.” I groan. A second ago I was fine, rinsing the paintbrushes out with gasoline. Now my stomach is rebelling against itself and I feel like I am going to hurl. I’m beginning to think that the fumes from the gasoline make me feel sick, which is bad because gasoline is the best way to clean up the oil-based paint that I’ve been using. I might have to resort to using masks if I keep feeling sick when I use the gasoline. I hate masks.  

           

            I head to my house to get lunch. I walk past a baby sheep. It’s tiny and new enough that the umbilical cord is still attached, hanging like a piece of string from its belly. I caught a chick yesterday. The mom wasn’t very happy and tried attacking me, but I’ve been watching the little balls of fluff run around my house for the last few days, and I had to hold one. When I put it down, the mom tried attacking me again, and would have been successful but I managed to jump back in time.

            I walk in the gate of my house. There’s a lady I don’t remember ever seeing before. There’s so many people coming in and out of my house I guess I’m not too surprised. Batama  looks so much better than he did this morning. Before I leave to go back to the hospital he has found a pair of glasses somewhere that fit him perfectly and is modeling them. The sparkle that reminds me of Joey has returned to his eyes, and though he is still a little more reserved than normal, I’m glad to see that he is feeling better. 

No, you CAN’T Have my Number

I’m sitting on a hard wooden bench next to the wall. It’s sweltering hot inside this building. I don’t know why we don’t just have church outside under the trees, it would be so nice to be able to have a breeze.

            My throat itches. I let out a couple of quiet coughs, hoping to relieve the persistent tickle. It doesn’t work. I desperately need to get outside where I won’t be disturbing everyone with my coughing. I slip off the bench and make my way outside. I decide to stand outside the window where I can still hear the sermon fairly well, but where I am free to cough in peace.

            After standing outside for a few minutes, a one-armed boy comes out the door. He walks over to me and greets me. I talk with him for a few minutes. He tells me that he wants to go to America and go to school to be a doctor. I’m good at talking to people, although it’s a little bit difficult because his English is not the best and my French is nonexistent. All is fine and dandy, then out of the blue: “Can I have your number?”

            Oh great… here we go. I was hoping to avoid this. “Ummm…. well actually, I don’t know my number.” I know this sounds like a pathetic excuse, but it’s actually true this time. I haven’t taken the time to memorize my new number. I tell him, “I could give you my number for America, but it wouldn’t do you much good.”

            He looks a little confused. “You have a phone right?”

            “Yes, I do. But I don’t have it with me and I don’t know my number.”

            A few minutes later I excuse myself to go to the SM hut and make some food for potluck. I ask Masha if she knows who the one-armed boy is. She says she’s not sure, but Charis might know. I ask Charis later, and she tells me that it’s probably the boy who came to her asking for help with his school tuition because his father wouldn’t pay it. I’m a little bit sad because of that, but she goes on to explain that his father won’t pay because the boy spends his own money at bars. I don’t feel too bad for him now.

            Fast forward two days. I’m walking across the hospital compound with a bottle of gasoline to go and clean up some paint that I spilled. I hear behind me “Sister! Sister!” I turn to see one of the nurses waving at me, and beside the nurse a man who looks fairly young, but the grey in his hair betrays his age. I smile and exchange the polite greetings required. The nurse tells me in English that this man is visiting the hospital from N’djamena and she is giving him a tour. I’m not sure how this has absolutely anything to do with me, but since they’re walking in the same direction as I am I can’t just leave.

            The man starts talking to me in English. Evidently he is a pharmacist from N’djamena. I never did figure out what he was doing here, but he was here nonetheless. He asks me what I’m working on, and I tell him I’ve been painting. We get to where I spilled the paint, and since they don’t seem to be interested in going on, I show them the benches that I painted for maternity. Then the nurse leaves, and the guy asks me if he can talk to me.

            Now, I’m thinking, “Yeah, it’s a free country, I can’t really stop you from talking to me if you want to.” But then I realize I’m in Tchad, which probably has different rules. I tell him it’s fine if he wants to talk, thinking he might just want to practice English. Well, for a while that was all it appeared to be. But then he asked me for my number. And once again I was thankful that I didn’t know it. I told him no. So he gave me his business card and told me to call him. Then he asked how long I was staying in Tchad. I told him I was here until May. And he wanted to know if I’d come to N’djamena to visit him! I was like “Ummm…no. I don’t like big cities.” So he asked if he could visit me here. I was like “Well…I can’t really stop you from coming down here. But I do have work to do, so I’ll probably be busy.” Somehow the conversation starts to die (I’m thinking thank goodness!) and he has the nerve to say something along the lines of “So this is it?” And I’m thinking, “WHAT? Of course this is it! I mean seriously, I don’t know you from Adam. What is “it” anyway?” Granted, I don’t know if he knows exactly how that line sounded in my ears, but I was still irritated. I told him goodbye and he left.

            So, next day. I’m sitting in the SM hut, working. And Mohammed, the guard, comes to the door and calls me. He says there’s somebody asking for me at the gate. I waltz out, without thinking, and come face to face with Mr. Pharmacist dude from N’djamena. I wanted to melt into the ground. I wasn’t really expecting him to show up again. I was nice though, said hi, how are you, etc. Then he asked for my e-mail and I told him no. He said he was going to N’djamena that day and I was thinking, “Thank heavens for that! I hope you don’t come back!”, but I told him to have a good trip. Then I stood there for a couple of awkward seconds, because I didn’t know what to say, and he wasn’t saying anything. So I smiled cheerfully, said “Au revoir!” and disappeared back into the SM hut. 

Sick

            I’m lying on a yoga mat on the cement floor of the SM hut, watching the ceiling fan whir as it circulates the air in the room. I’m sick. I don’t know what kind of sick, my symptoms don’t match any of the problems that they usually treat people for.

            Yesterday I was on top of a ladder, painting when the world started swaying. I tried sitting down for awhile and drinking water to make the dizziness go away, but it didn’t work. I ended up putting all the painting stuff away; I didn’t really want to be known as the Nassara who fell off the ladder. I managed to suck it up enough to go to market with Naomi and Charis so we could buy supplies for the feast we are going to be serving to the kids at school on Friday, but when we got back I crashed.

            Today I woke up feeling ok, but by 8:30 I was back where I’d started. Charis and Naomi went to market without me, so I could rest. Lying down is the only way I can keep myself from feeling like I’m going to throw up. Even then, it’s a little sketchy.

If I don’t start feeling better by tomorrow I’ll probably go get tested for malaria, just to make sure. I hope I’m not; I’d really like to be able to say I was here longer than a week before I got infected by the little beasties.

Masha just came by. She told us about one of her patients from this morning. A lady came in all by herself with her 5 month old baby. The baby was breathing rapidly, had malaria and anemia and needed a transfusion right away. Masha took the mom & baby over to the lab to get the mom started on giving blood. Then she went to prep the IV supplies, when she came back, they’d had some trouble communicating with the mom and didn’t have the blood. So Masha took the baby back to peds to start an IV. The baby was too far gone though, and as Masha was trying to find a vein to start, the baby died. The mom left, carrying her dead baby down the road with no one to comfort her.

Things like this happen all the time here. I haven’t personally experienced it yet, but I’ve heard many stories. This is a sad, messed-up world. The cynical part of me wants to say that maybe it’s better for the baby not to have to grow up fighting through bout after bout of malaria, or going hungry, or dealing with any of the many problems that are so evident here. But then I think of the mother. I wonder how many other children she has, or if she’s lost any others to malaria. Death isn’t very fair.

Hi, my name is Seentahna

            Hi, my name is Seentahna. I am not a cockroach or a lizard or anything like that, I am a monkey. Miki is my Mommy. She thinks I’m pretty cute. I have to admit I think so too.

            I would just like to clarify something really fast. Yes, I did invite that guest over, but then I told it not to come. I really did. So I don’t know why it decided to come anyway. Mommy wasn’t very happy with me, so I’ve decided not to invite anyone else over until after I’ve made sure it’s ok with her.

            Tchad is an interesting place. There are lots of bugs everywhere. Mommy doesn’t like them very much, but I’m not sure why. They’re fun to talk to. She keeps muttering something about the entire country being on top of an anthill and they should be destroyed…but I think that’s mean. They were probably here first anyway.

            I was reading the rest of the blog posts that Mommy posted, but she was wrong about the number of kids. We actually live with a family of 8 kids. I think the two new ones are James’s younger siblings, but I haven’t quite figured out their names yet. I hope I will soon. 

She also forgot to mention our two roommates. Their names are Albert and Horatio. They are nice lizards, I like them. Albert is a teeny tiny baby lizard. He’s a little bit shy, but he sure can move fast. Horatio, well he is quite a bit older. He doesn’t actually know how old he is, but that’s ok, we’ll forgive his ignorance. I think Mommy is hoping that they’ll eat the bugs, so she keeps them around. I’ve also been told that if Auntie Ashley were here we would probably be catching lizards to play with all the time. I wish she were here. That would be fun.

A couple of days ago, Mommy took me to the hospital with her. She was coloring with the kids that were waiting outside with their families. She introduced me to them, then she let me color a picture! It was so much fun. It was a little bit hard to understand the kids, they speak French, and Nangere, and Lai, and I don’t really know what else. I guess Bere, where we’re living now, is actually about 21 different villages that happen to be in close proximity to each other. Like Camas and Washougal close. But there are so many different dialects! It’s crazy.

But other than not being able to understand people very well, things are going pretty good. Chad is a pretty awesome place to be. Auntie Mayson, thanks for making it possible for me to be here. J

My Tchadian Family

 

Sleepovers Prohibited

30 September 

            Seentahna and I have had our first disagreement. She wanted to invite a guest over for a sleepover, but I told her no because I haven’t met the guest’s parents.

            She invited them anyway.

            Or at least I’m assuming she did because I woke up at 2 AM today with the guest scampering over my legs.

            Needless to say I was not pleased. I very firmly told Seentahna, “No more sleepovers!” Hopefully she’ll listen this time.

            It is now 4 AM and I can’t sleep. Which doesn’t make sense, with or without jet lag. But it’s been like this since I arrived in Bere. I think the latest I’ve managed to sleep in was 5, maybe 5:30 on the first day I got here. I’ve kinda given up trying to sleep any later, once I wake up the first time, sleep is over for me. There is no such thing as rolling over and drifting into unconscious bliss. So I spend my time before everyone wakes up reading, praying, planning, and writing.

            My family here has six kids ages 3-14. Bria is the oldest, she’s very sweet and functions like a second mother to the rest of her family. She’s also been fighting malaria since I got here, I hope she feels better soon. John is 11, he speaks some English, French, and Nangere, helps translate for Sabbath School, loves to sing, and plays the drums. James is also 11, he is an orphan that lives with us. He’s quiet and his eyes are sad. Agariat I believe is 9. As the second oldest girl she’s been picking up a lot of the work with Bria not feeling well. An amazing hostess, she often anticipates what I need and will immediately jump up to get it for me. Abriat is 7. She is so eager to be near me and is not shy. Then there is Batama, the baby of the family. He is so adorable. He has big eyes and long curly eyelashes. A typical 3 year old, he loves to play, and get cuddles. He’s also a little bit whiny sometimes. :) 

            My mamma is Sedonnie. She’s very sweet and eager to get to know me. She disappears during the day though, I don’t really know where she goes. I’ve only seen papa a couple of times. I think he must leave to work early on his moto, and doesn’t get back until late. Or maybe it’s because he went to Lai, a village a few kilometers away.

            My house is really not all that different from a house in America, except that it’s all open air, except for the bedrooms and the kitchen, and there is an open well in the middle of the living area. I have my own room. Danae told me that Bria gave up her room so that they could host SMs, which makes me feel bad. All of the kids except for Batama sleep in the room next to me. I feel a little bit selfish, but I also know I’m very grateful for my own space.

            The other missionaries on the compound are all very nice. But they keep making reference to how hard it is to be out here. I must admit, it’s a little daunting to have so many people saying that it’s difficult when they live on the mission compound where there is running water and electricity. I think they may be referring more to the emotional difficulty which is something I haven’t really experienced yet.

            Now is time for random footnotes directed at specific people.

            Alaric – I promise I wrote you a letter, but to mail it I have to get it to Kelo, which, with current road conditions, is about an hour away.

            Ashley – You should come and visit me. I miss you. And you could help me garden and landscape and do construction work and play with kids in the dirt and keep me sane… Yeah. It’d be fun.

            Anyway, I love you all! Keep us all in your prayers. It is true, it is hard here, but I think it will be worth it too.

            Oh, and someone want to send me an anteater? And a pet cat that specializes in cockroach elimination and leaves the chickens and lizards alone? And some chocolate? J