40 Degrees of Separation

Last Tuesday evening I left Chad and returned to the UK. It all happened rather suddenly and was not part of 'the plan'. When I was unwell a couple of weeks ago I was advised that I should return to the UK for further tests, that even the 'good' hospital I was treated at couldn't do - a further reminder of the limited health care available to the majority of Chadians.

The first few days of being back in the UK are always a rather strange experience. Making the transition from Africa to the UK seems to take longer than the journey and so I find myself physically in one country but mentally still in another.

Returning at this time of year there is also the stark contrast in temperature to contend with. Although this is the cooler time of year in Chad daytime temperatures still reach 38C, whereas the temperature in Cumbria on Thursday morning was -2C...

So each day I now:

• Take a hot shower, rather than a cold one
• Put on more layers of warm clothes, rather than wearing as few thin cotton clothes as possible
• Wear two pairs of socks, rather than none at all
• Switch the heater on in the car, rather than the air-conditioning
• Keep the central heating on, rather than the ceiling fan
• Sleep under a warm duvet, rather than on top of a single sheet

I am definitely a person who prefers hot weather to cold weather but there are two things I love about a cold climate - you can spend the evening in front of a roaring log fire and you see views like this:



Blencathra

The Pilgrims Return

A few weeks ago I blogged about the chaos around the airport as people prepared and departed for the Hajj. I speculated as to whether there would be an equal amount of chaos when the travellers returned and this week I found out. The answer is 'yes'...

I obviously need to find out more about what the Hajj involves as I thought it lasted for 5 days, whereas it is about a month since most of the pilgrims left N'Djamena. I wonder what they have been doing all this time?

This week the metal barriers that were left behind a month ago have been put up again and the area all around has been full of randomly parked vehicles. There have been a lot of the orange Peugeot 504 taxis, that are as common in N'Djamena as matatus are in Nairobi or Kampala, as well as a number of new looking 4x4s. I guess the different modes of transport represent the relative wealth of those being picked up.

Inevitably there is the accompanying entourage of people awaiting the return of their family member and so every morning and afternoon I've had to negotiate my way through this crowd of cars and people. Each returning pilgrim seems to bring a large sack-like bundle with them, in stark contrast to their departure when I don't recall seeing any luggage. Those who take the taxi transport option load their luggage into the boot of the car. There are often several travellers sharing the same taxi so it isn't possible to close the boot. The suspension sags under the weight but the pilgrims are on the final leg of their journey home.

N'Djamena taxi

Health Care

I saw a statistic recently that Chad has the equivalent of one doctor for every 28,000 people. With the exception of South Sudan (which is the country that embodies the word 'exception') my impression of Chad is that the standard of health care generally available to the average person is the worst of all the African countries I have lived in.

One of the benefits we provide for our Chadian staff is to pay a percentage of their medical bills. As the person who authorises these payments I get to see the details of what they have been treated for and the medication they have been prescribed. Almost without exception and regardless of the true nature of the illness each person seems to be routinely prescribed high doses of pain killers, antibiotics and anti-malaria drugs. It is not uncommon for all these drugs plus the consultation and related tests to cost what would be a significant proportion of an individual's monthly salary. So not only are they being wrongly diagnosed and treated they are also being charged exorbitantly.

This week I have been unwell and when, after two days, I was feeling worse rather than better I decided the time had come to see a doctor. This enabled me to see first hand a hospital on the outskirts of N'Djamena that is trying to improve the health care that at least some Chadians can receive. The hospital at Guinebor II is funded, managed and run by a small team of expatriates, working alongside Chadian staff. Their primary goal is to provide health care services to the local population but as a 'sideline' they make themselves available to treat anyone from the international community who otherwise doesn't have access to 'quality' health care.

I arrived in the middle of the morning and there were maybe 100 people sitting on the ground, trying to stay in the limited shade that was available. It was difficult to know how many of these people were patients and how many were their accompanying family members. I first had to go to triage to be weighed and have my temperature, heart-rate and blood-pressure taken. Afia, the triage nurse, seemed highly amused by the 'narsara' (the generic Chadian word for 'white person') in her treatment room and smiled broadly throughout the whole process. When she had finished her initial assessment of me I was officially 'registered' as patient number 86 (presumably the 86th patient of the day) and handed my patient record book - half an exercise book with a picture of a footballer (who I think is Didier Drogba) on the cover...



My Chadian medical record - everything handwritten (in French) and mine to keep!

I then went to the cashier and paid 5,000 CFA (about £6) for my consultation with the doctor. This was the maximum amount a consultation would cost, with the lower amounts presumably for seeing less well-qualified staff. I'm somewhat embarrassed (but also very grateful as I was feeling pretty rough by this point) that Dr. Mark saw me ahead of some of his other patients who had been waiting longer than I had. He prescribed me a course of antibiotics, that cost another 1,500 CFA (about £1.80), and already today I am feeling a lot better.

I was impressed by the calm and order of the hospital, by how they are trying to develop the skills and responsibilities of their Chadian staff and by their commitment to improve the health care given to the local community at a more affordable price. You can read an account of a day at the hospital here.

Unfortunately for most of the residents of N'Djamena, including our staff, this hospital is too far out of the city for it to be a viable option for their treatment. However, it is encouraging to know that on Thursday of this week (as on every other day of the week) it provided a high level of health care to at least 86 people, in a country where such facilities are sadly in very short supply.

Charity

We've been having a bit of a clear out at the MAF compound - emptying out our store room and deciding what we really need to keep and what we will no longer use. It's been a bit reminiscent of my last assignment in South Sudan (albeit on a much smaller scale) where a large part of my job seemed to involve deciding how to dispose of things that those who have worked there before thought  worth keeping 'just in case'. Not being a natural hoarder I fine this approach difficult to understand although when you live somewhere where things are either hard to get hold of or very expensive I can see how it becomes the prevalent attitude.

So for the last few weeks there has been a pile of old furniture stacked in a corner of the compound, just outside my bedroom window, that we have decided we are never going to use. Storing anything wooden in an out-house, where every insect and animal in N'Djamena can access it, is not the best idea and what was probably once quite good furniture is now very definitely past its best. Every time I have opened my bedroom curtains and seen this furniture I have been reminded that we need to do something with it. As in most developing countries rubbish disposal in Chad is a major issue with there being no real 'system' in place and so getting rid of anything is always a challenge.

One of my expatriate colleagues suggested we should offer the furniture to our national staff. Something in me was reluctant to do this. I struggle with the idea of giving to others the things that we consider 'rubbish'. If it's not good enough for me then how come it is suddenly OK for someone else? The 'rich' westerners giving to the 'poor' Africans just seems to illustrate all that was wrong with colonialism and is still wrong today with a lot of humanitarian aid. Why do we think it is OK to just give the 'crumbs from our table'? Shouldn't we be giving the 'first fruits' instead?

Despite these misgivings, and mostly because I had no better solution, I decided this was the best option. I explained the situation to the staff on Friday and invited anyone who was interested in having some of the furniture to come to the compound today at 11.00 a.m. where they could share it out between them. I had visions of them being disappointed in the condition of the furniture and arguing about who would have the 'best' things but I needn't have worried. Five of the nine staff turned up and, after much discussion, they divided the furniture into what they considered nine equal piles (one for each member of staff). They then made a great show of drawing lots to see who would get which pile. After each person had claimed their pile there was clapping, cheering and congratulations. When all the furniture had been divided up one of the staff made a speech to thank me for my generosity in giving them these things.

The furniture is still outside my bedroom window as they need to organise to get it taken to their respective homes but they have gone away happy and I am left wondering about the nature of charity...

Snake Alert

Some days something can happen that turns a 'normal' day into a day to remember and today was such a day.

I was in my office diligently working through the financial reports for October and needed to check something with Tresor, the finance officer. I walked out of my office and around the corner towards the area where Tresor has his desk and there, slithering away from me along the floor, was a snake.

Tresor was not at his desk so I called out to Justine, who sits in the next office: 'Justine, un serpent'. She came into the office, took one look at the snake and went to get Albert to come and take a photograph! I can't say that was top of my priority list at the time...

We then summoned Luc, the guard, who came armed with a large metal pipe and a machete and proceeded to bash the snake with the metal pipe. I was somewhat concerned as the snake writhed about in both anger and agony that Luc was only wearing flip-flops on his feet and that the snake might decide to retaliate but I needn't have worried as Luc is clearly well-practised in snake-killings. Within a few minutes the snake was dead and had been thrown over the fence outside and all that was left were its blood and entrails on the office floor.

I have no idea what kind of snake it was - it was about 60cms long, quite thin and a green-brown colour. The Chadian view of snakes is that they are all 'tres dangereux', which in the absence of any other information seems a pretty good stance to take.

A 10 Step Guide to Eating Chocolate in a Hot Climate

1. Carefully consider when you may next receive chocolate and ration your consumption accordingly
2. Keep your chocolate in the fridge at all times
3. Only remove your chocolate from the fridge immediately prior to consumption
4. Calculate how much chocolate you can fit in your mouth in one go
5. Without removing the wrapping break off a piece of chocolate of the size you have calculated in step 4. above
6. Return any remaining chocolate to the fridge
7. Remove the wrapping from the piece of chocolate broken off in step 5. above
8. Put the whole piece in your mouth
9. Lick any melted chocolate from your fingers immediately to prevent leaving a sticky, chocolate residue on everything you touch
10. Savour the moment



Food Miles

This morning I had to go into the centre of N'Djamena to do my weekly grocery shopping. I went to four different shops and this is what I came home with:

It doesn't look like much, considering it cost me just over 20,000 CFA (which is about £25) but according to a recent survey N'Djamena is apparently the 8th most expensive city to live in if you are an expatriate (down from the 3rd most expensive city in 2011).

Of all the things I bought only two were 'Made in Chad'. The mince beef is 'viande locale halal' (local halal meat) according to the sign on the meat counter that is a new feature of one of the supermarkets and helps resolve my usual meat-buying dilemma. The small pot of yoghurt, which I will use as a 'starter' to make more yoghurt, was made at the French patisserie although probably not using local ingredients.

The majority of my shopping came, not surprisingly given the historic links, from France but I also bought cheese from Holland, biscuits from Spain, oats from Scotland (although obviously packaged specifically for the export market given the Arabic writing on the tin), UHT milk from United Arab Emirates, Pepsi from Saudi Arabia and fruit juice from Lebanon.

My journey into town today was a round-trip of 5 miles. Most of my food has travelled considerably further.

Floods

Last week I joked on Facebook that I had experienced 'a flood' when the water heater in the apartment above me malfunctioned. The water was several centimetres deep upstairs and was starting to come through my ceiling.

Whilst I went through this minor inconvenience that, with the help of three colleagues, took about an hour to sort out many other residents of N'Djamena have not been so fortunate. Following the rains further south the Chari river that runs through the city has broken its banks and flooded large areas. Estimates suggest that over 25,000 people have been displaced as a result and included in this number are two of our guards.

Zam and Jean are related in some way that no one seems able to explain and lived in the same neighbourhood until their homes were flooded last week. Along with their immediate families they are now living with other relatives. As the waters start to recede they are planning to return to where their homes once stood to rebuild and start again. As I talk to them with my limited French I am struck by their different responses. Zam who is older seems accepting of the situation and determined to rebuild his home, whereas Jean who is younger and recently married has lost much of his usual 'sparkle'. He has a great smile that lights up his whole face but I haven't seen that for a while now.

It is apparently not an unusual occurrence for the river to flood, although this year it has been particularly bad. Each time it happens the President says that the people must move away from the river but a permanent solution has not yet been found. Zam, Jean and the majority of those affected by the floods have lived in this area all their lives and as much as they don't want to live somewhere that is so susceptible to flooding being forcibly relocated to another part of the city is not what they want either.

Footnote: The French word for flood is 'inondation' - Zam and Jean certainly know what it is like to be inundated by water.

Travel Agent

The last part of my journey to work each day involves turning right at the terminal building of the international airport here in N'Djamena and driving for about 200 metres along a dirt road to reach the MAF hangar. On one side of this road there are a series of buildings, which are occupied by different logistics companies involved in importing and exporting goods via airfreight. Normally when I arrive for work this area is very quiet - there are a few cars about and the guards sit around looking bored - but for the last two weeks it has been pretty chaotic.

On my first day back in Chad after my time in the UK I went into the office slightly later than normal. About half way along the dirt road I came across a huge number of cars parked seemingly totally at random around an area fenced off with large metal barriers. Inside this fenced off area tents with sides that came about half way down to the ground had been erected and inside them, sitting on mats, were large numbers of people. As I negotiated my way around the parked cars I noticed several signs advertising what can only be described as a 'package holiday' or rather I should say a 'package pilgrimage'.

If you were in possession of a passport that was dated before 30th September 2012 and were willing to spend 1,645,000 Chadian francs (about £2,000) you would be able to buy a return air ticket (including accommodation) to Saudi Arabia to participate in The Hajj - the annual pilgrimage to Mecca that all Muslims are supposed to undertake at least once in their lifetime.

As I drove past this temporary travel agent each day I soon realised that this area of waste ground was quickly becoming a mini village - there were people selling food, water was available in large earthenware jars (presumably for drinking and for ritual washing before prayer times) and latrines had been put up (although there still seemed to be a fair amount of open defecation going on...).

Each day this week the crowds seemed bigger than normal as people arrived for the flights to Saudi Arabia. It seemed as if every person travelling also brought along various family members to see them off and there were police around to control the crowds.

And then this morning the tents and all the people were gone. Apart from the metal barriers, the latrines and a lot of rubbish very little remained to show that this had been such a busy place for the last two weeks.

The Hajj takes place next week and I am just wondering if it will be as busy at the airport when everyone returns...

Finally Flying

Today was a very exciting day for Mission Aviation Fellowship in Chad. We had our first operational flight for our new airplane - the Cessna 182.

The plane arrived in Chad in March and it has been a long-journey for the whole team to get to this point. Registration, modifications, approvals, training and seemingly never-ending paperwork have all had to be painstakingly worked through in order to get the plane operational.

It is a journey that seemed well worth the effort today as we flew Dr Ann and her Chadian colleague Doumi to Ba Illi (a village about 150 miles to the south-east of N'Djamena) where they were to spend the day treating patients who otherwise would not get the chance to see a doctor. Tomorrow we will fly them on to another village where they will treat more people.

At the moment these villages are unreachable by road due to the recent heavy rains that have caused extensive flooding in the south of Chad. This type of flying is at the heart of what MAF does - enabling others to reach isolated people with help and hope.

Doumi and Dr Ann with the C182 at Ba Illi

Back in Chad

I returned last Tuesday evening to Chad after just over two weeks in the UK. It was a bit of a whirlwind trip, which didn't give much time for blogging or any other form of social networking.

I spent four days travelling (either by plane to and from the UK or by car from the north to the south of England), nine days in Carlisle, three days with my mother and five days in meetings. I slept in four different beds, went to the hairdresser, the dentist and the optician, enjoyed meeting up with friends and reconnecting with my church and did a lot of shopping for things to bring back to Chad.

On Tuesday morning I was in Cumbria scrapping ice off the car before heading to the airport. On Tuesday evening I was standing in the crowded arrivals area of N'Djamena airport sweating profusely as I waited in line to get through immigration. The relative coolness that the rains brought during August and into September have been replaced by daytime temperatures around 40C and high humidity. Even the Chadians are saying it is hot and it is quite a contrast to the autumnal weather of the UK.

Since getting back I have been catching up with my colleagues; finding out what has been happening whilst I was away, trying to get on top of the backlog of work and attempting to remember the French I had learnt. Thankfully it has not all been forgotten but communicating with the Chadians remains my biggest challenge. C'est la vie!

Ripple effect

Someone makes a film in America and uploads it to the internet.

Protests against the film erupt in Egypt.

The American consulate is attacked in Libya and the US Ambassador and three others are killed.

Protests spread to Yemen and a few other countries.

At 06:12 a.m. this morning I am forwarded a text suggesting that there will be demonstrations in N'Djamena later today.

At 06:33 a.m. I am having a conversation about whether the children who live on the compound will go to the American-run school they attend today.

At 06:45 a.m. I leave for work - everything appears 'normal' as I drive across the city to the airport.

On arriving at the hangar I ask the staff if they have heard anything about possible problems today. They seem more concerned about demonstrations that have been talked about for several weeks in relation to a Government workers strike over a dispute about salaries.

The general feeling is that it could be 'un probleme pour les blancs'  so I decide that we will close the office at 12:00 noon in order that everyone can get home before any possible demonstrations might take place.

Everyone seems very happy that we are finishing 2 hours earlier than we normally do on a Friday...

At 12:15 p.m. I drive back across the city. A colleague left an hour earlier saying he would phone if he thought there were any problems. As I haven't heard from him I take my usual route, which goes past the US Embassy. It is probably the most heavily fortified complex in the city, even more so than the Presidential Palace (if you don't include the armed soldiers). There are a few more security guards outside the Embassy but other than that everything still appears 'normal'.

I spend the afternoon working at home and get so much more done than I would have done at the office.

The neighbourhood is quiet as evening approaches. The ripples may not have reached N'Djamena but they still had an effect.

Flights

This week we had a full week of flights to the south and east of Chad for a variety of different reasons. The south of Chad is currently inaccessible by road as the recent rains have caused quite extensive flooding and a journey by road to the east of the country can take a couple of days.

  

• On Sunday we flew a group from a Chadian sugar company to Banda (south of Sarh). The pilot waited at the airport while they had meetings and then brought them back the same day. We would not normally fly on a Sunday and we do a limited number of these 'commercial' flights but Jakob (who is currently here as our relief pilot) was happy to do the flight and after a relatively quiet month of flying in August we were very pleased to get the booking.
• On Monday we flew a missionary family to Am Timan, after they had spent nearly two weeks having a break in N'Djamena. They had taken the opportunity of being in the capital city to stock-up on supplies for the next few months so we also had over 200 kgs of freight. In Am Timan we picked up three Americans who had been in Chad on a short-term trip, helping to install solar and battery power at the compound of another mission organisation.
• On Tuesday we flew a group of five leaders from the Chadian church to Moundou for meetings with local church groups. The meetings were scheduled to take all afternoon and evening so the pilot stayed overnight and flew the group back to N'Djamena on Wednesday.
• On Thursday we flew to Guereda (east of Abeche) to collect a missionary family who are having to leave Chad at quite short notice because one of them is sick and cannot get the treatment they need here.
• On Friday we flew to Banda again so more employees of the sugar company could have more meetings.

It was a busy but satisfying week...



Preparing the plane for a flight on a stormy Sunday morning



Banking

Getting cash from the bank to pay for our programme expenses is a task that is normally handled by Tresor, our Finance Officer. It is something I have done in other countries I have worked in although it is not one of my favourite tasks. I am usually the only white female in the bank and so I feel quite conspicuous and vulnerable walking out with, what to most people in there is, a substantial amount of cash. But today Tresor is sick and we needed cash.

To cash a cheque requires the individual to present their Identity Card so it is something that can only be done by a Chadian. The only person in the office who was available and also had their Identity Card with them was Justine, the Office Administrator. But she doesn't drive and I was the only person available to drive her. (Are you starting to get a picture of the sort of day it was...?).

On arrival at the bank Justine walked confidently up to one of the bank tellers and handed over the cheque and her ID card. The person behind the window looked something up on his computer and started writing something on the back of the cheque. I was just thinking 'this is going to be quick' when the cheque and ID card were handed back to Justine and she walked across to another line of 5 cashier booths on the other side of the bank. There were groups of 4 or 5 men crowded around two of the windows, with the other positions being unoccupied.

I gradually figured out the 'system' for getting your cheque cashed. You stand around until the moment that you decide the group around a particular cashier is not too large and then you push your way to the front and place your cheque and ID card on the counter. You then stand around for a bit longer, but a bit closer, until the cashier picks up your cheque and ID card and at that point you can move forward to be served. Once you are handed your money you then have to count it without moving away from the counter but whilst the next customer is served. When you have counted the money and nodded to the cashier you are handed your receipt and can leave.

From arriving at the bank to leaving again took nearly an hour so at least I now understand why Tresor is away from the office for so long when he goes to get cash.

Of course, as a British person, I couldn't help thinking that the whole process could be speeded up by having a few more cashiers and insisting that everyone forms a queue and waits their turn to be served...

Shopping - Part 2

The shops visited in the shopping expeditions of the previous blog do not sell fresh fruit or vegetables. To buy those requires additional stops (and therefore additional encounters with the street-sellers) at fruit and vegetable stalls that are set up on the side of the road.

There is a row of about ten such stalls opposite one of the 'supermarkets' so although it is reasonably convenient it is also an on-going dilemma as to which stall to patronise. They all seem to sell the same selection of fruit and vegetables and all are equally friendly as they try to gain your custom. I usually go to the stall I first went to (because I happened to park right in front of it) in the hope that my loyalty as a customer will be rewarded with good prices.

However, the preferred way of shopping for fruit and vegetables is to have the stall come to you...

This is Nana, who comes to the MAF compound every Monday and Thursday morning. He comes on his bicycle carrying all his wares in a large wooden crate strapped on the back and spreads out his stall on a plastic sheet on the ground. He has been coming faithfully every week for many years and always has a good selection to choose from.

As I am usually at the office when he comes I leave a list and some money with Odile, my house help, (who conveniently also comes every Monday and Thursday) so when I get home from work I find delicious and fresh fruit and vegetables in my fridge. Now that's the kind of shopping I prefer...

Shopping - Part 1

If you know me well, you'll know that shopping is one of my least favourite activities so the only kind of shopping I do in Chad is for food. Unfortunately it is not possible to just go to one shop and get everything you need. A shopping trip for just a few basic food items usually means going to at least three different shops in order to get everything you need.

Almost as soon as you park outside one of the shops you will be approached by at least one, and sometimes more, of the street-sellers who hang around outside the shops that they know are used by the international community in the hope of making a sale. They hold their wares up to your car window and once you get out of the car, despite repeatedly saying 'non merci', they will continue to follow you until you reach the shop and will be waiting for you again when you come out.

Here is a list of some of the things I have been offered by these street sellers:

• Phone credit
• Phone chargers that plug into the cigarette lighter in the car
• USB memory sticks
• Sunglasses
• Belts (allegedly made of leather)
• DVDs (pirated)
• Screwdrivers
• Peanuts
• Towels
• Mosquito nets
• Apples
• Trays (embossed with a map of Chad)

Here is a list of all the things I have bought from these street sellers:

• Phone credit

A trip to Tesco is going to seem quite dull by comparison...

Important Post

In all the African countries I have worked in a postal system is only available to those who can pay for a PO Box, where their mail can be stored whilst it awaits collection. When an organisation wants to send a letter to another organisation the preferred postal method is to have one of their employees hand-deliver it.

This hand-delivery system always seems to involve an A4, hardback notebook where all the important information is recorded such as the date, a brief description of the item being delivered and the name of the organisation it is being delivered to. The person receiving the letter is then required to sign in the book to acknowledge receipt.

I happened to be in the reception area of the MAF office today when such a delivery was made, with a letter from the Civil Aviation Authority. As our permission to fly and all our other activities in Chad are approved by this government body I was immediately alert to the fact that this could be an important communication. My French is not yet good enough that I can 'speed-read' a letter and quickly understand the subject matter so having duly signed for the letter in the delivery man's ledger I took it to my office to read.

The letter was addressed to all the air operators who use the airport and concerned the x-ray machine used to screen passenger baggage at the airport terminal building. There is only one such machine and the letter was informing us that it is 'strictly forbidden to walk, sit or lie on this sensitive equipment'.

I wondered about the process that must have happened to compose, write, print, sign, stamp and circulate this letter. Then I wondered why stopping people walking, sitting or lying on the x-ray machine was not one of the responsibilities of the security staff who screen the baggage. And then I smiled as it is letters like this that are just one of the reasons I love Africa...

Armed Guard

This morning I returned to my office after spending about half an hour talking to our Finance Officer to find four armed soldiers parked in their pick-up truck (complete with its own automatic anti-aircraft machine gun) just outside my window.

It's not uncommon to see the Chadian Army out in force whenever the President is leaving from or arriving at the airport but they have never been quite as close to our hangar as they were today. It's known locally as a 'tapis rouge' (literally 'red carpet') and as well as stopping the traffic between the Presidential Palace and the airport to ensure a quick and safe passage for the President there are usually soldiers stationed at various points close to the runway at the airport. In the last month we have also seen this pick-up but until today it has always been a fairly good distance away from us.

My office window was open so I politely exchanged greetings with the soldiers and tried to find out how long they might be there but either they didn't understand my French (quite likely) or they didn't know (also quite likely as the exact timing of the President's flights are a closely guarded secret and the tapis rouge can last for several hours). I wasn't sure what to make of it - our Chadian staff were surprised they were so close but none of them seemed inclined to go out and ask them to move away! I'm never sure if having soldiers so close by makes you more or less safe. I guess it depends on the soldiers, whether they have to use their weapons and whether what / who they are shooting at fires back...

Mostly I think they are bored and hot and I think they parked so close to the hangar in order to try and get some shade. We gave them some water and they asked for tea (which we didn't give them) and after about 4 hours the President's plane departed and so did the soldiers.

I would have so liked to get a photograph of them but as taking photos of military personnel is a BIG no-no all around the world that wasn't going to happen. They may have loved the idea of having their picture taken by a white female and it would have relieved their boredom for a few minutes but I wasn't going to take the risk that they might have the opposite reaction...!

Independence Day

Today is Independence Day in Chad and the main focus of the celebrations is at the Place de la Nation in the centre of N'Djamena, just in front of the Presidential Palace.

Bryan has been in Chad for the last 5 weeks as our relief pilot (you can read about his time here at his blog: http://bigglesgsy.blogspot.co.uk/) and was leaving today. Knowing that the main routes to the airport would be in chaos I recruited the services of Dieudonne, one of our hangar workers, to help drive Bryan to the airport and I was glad I did.

All was fine until we got to the junction where you can go straight on past the Presidential Palace - there was a single female police woman guarding the route and indicating that we should turn right. We joked that she didn't seem much of a deterrent if you were determined to go straight on but then we remembered that she probably had sufficient back up in the soldiers who guard the palace. Even on a 'normal' day there are at least 30 armed soldiers stationed at regular intervals along the kilometre stretch of road in front of the palace.

Having turned right we drove a bit further on and then spotted the police water cannons and military tanks parked up ahead waiting for the start of the parade. Dieudonne took a swift right-hand turn down a side-street, which was a muddy, single-track road with houses close on either side. We took a series of turns, following close behind a yellow Peugeot taxi who I thought was going to get stuck in the mud at any moment, until we emerged back on the main road close to the airport.

As we said 'Bon Voyage' to Bryan four helicopter gunships and a couple of fighter jets took off from the airport and flew overhead. Dieudonne then took a different route back, which at least involved staying on the more main roads although everyone else in N'Djamena seemed to have had the same idea. We made slow progress, with cars, buses and motorcycles jostling to get just a few feet ahead, and I saw parts of the city I hadn't seen before.

Apparently the celebrations will go on all day and finish with fireworks tonight.

Happy Independence Day!

Water

For the last few weeks there have been problems with the the water supply to the house on the other side of the compound where I am living. Water comes in from the city supply and is stored in an underground tank from where it is pumped up to a large tank on the top of the house. As water is used the pump automatically kicks in and refills the tank and once it is full again the pump shuts down. A couple of weeks ago we noticed that the pump was running and running and not shutting off but there was no water in the house. The tank was definitely filling but within a few hours it would be empty again.

Albert, our aircraft engineer, spent a large part of one weekend trying to sort out the problem but we were baffled as to where the water was going. We called in Silas, the plumber who had been involved in building the house a couple of years ago, and he identified a faulty valve that was allowing the water to drain down the pipe and back to the city supply. To replace this valve, that was buried half a meter underground, meant digging a big hole but we were pleased he had found the problem.

All was well for about 10 days (if you don't count the two other leaks that suddenly appeared and required sections of pipe to be replaced) and then this week there was no water in the house again. So Silas returned and, along with up to 3 other workmen, he has spent nearly 3 days investigating the problem - checking the pump, digging more holes, using hoses to re-route the water - and he has now concluded that there is another faulty valve and that there may also be leaking pipes underground. He is coming back today to replace the valve and if that doesn't fix the problem he will need to dig more holes to replace the faulty pipes.

As with plumbers all over the world there has been a lot of standing over holes in the ground, scratching of heads and pontificating as to what the problem could be but as I was talking to them yesterday the incongruity of the situation struck me. Each morning as I leave for the office I see the ladies from the neighbouring houses, like women all over Africa, with large buckets on their heads, on their way back from collecting water. I wondered whether Silas or any of his workmen have running water in their homes and how strange it must be to be working to fix something that you may never experience but somehow we (as ex-pats) feel we cannot live without - running water every time we turn on the tap.

Following instructions

When I arrived in Chad I decided to employ a house-help. It is common practice amongst ex-pats all over Africa to do this and although part of me struggles with the concept (I've read The Help...) it is a mutually beneficial arrangement - I get my house cleaned and someone gets an income they might otherwise not have.

When I first met Odile we talked through the different things she was to do and she asked about washing the curtains (something I never do at home!). She suggested washing them every two weeks and, not wanting to dampen her enthusiasm for her new job, I replied that every two months would be enough. Even that seemed a lot to me, although everything does get very dusty during the dry season.

Odile has been working for me now for 2 months and so today when I returned from the office I found every cushion cover and curtain in the house (including the shower curtain and my mosquito net) had been washed. Unfortunately it poured with rain today so while the aforementioned soft-furnishings are clean they are definitely not dry. Odile told me she would iron everything the next time she is here but as she only works two mornings a week that won't be until Thursday.

I decided I can live without curtains in the living room for a few days but that, as I am on the ground floor, I definitely need curtains and a mosquito net in my bedroom  So I have hung them up whilst they are still wet - it's as good a washing line as anywhere else - and I hope Odile won't be too upset that I have not waited for her to iron them.

I hadn't really thought about that first conversation with Odile until today but she had obviously remembered it and was determined to follow the instructions I had given her. I am now wondering what else I might have said - I guess I will find out in time...

Laissez Passer

For the last couple of weeks two members of staff have spent numerous hours taking the three company owned vehicles and the two vehicles that are privately owned by international staff through an annual inspection. They would leave the office first thing in the morning and head off to the designated police station where these checks take place and inevitably they would not return until the end of the day.

The process involves presenting all of the vehicle’s paperwork for seven different checks including customs (all vehicles here are imported), ownership, taxes and insurance. The vehicle’s chassis number is verified and some rudimentary inspection is done on the vehicle, such as checking the lights and the indicators. A document is stamped and signed as each of these checks is ‘passed’ and once all seven checks are done you are issued with a ‘Laissez passer’ (‘pass’) sticker to be affixed to the windscreen of the vehicle.

It is not uncommon here to be stopped by the police, who ask to see your vehicle’s paperwork and will inevitably find that one or more of your documents is somehow not in order. If you pay the policeman an on-the-spot ‘fine’ you are allowed to go on your way. A vehicle with a ‘Laissez passer’ sticker should, as the name suggests, be allowed to pass without any further checks being required so the theory behind this is a good one. Unfortunately as with many things in Africa the practical implications have not really been thought through and what should be a fairly straightforward process becomes, in reality, something that takes days to accomplish.

• All vehicles are required to be inspected at the same police station in July – so there are a huge number of vehicles to be processed
• Each check is done by a different official so you battle to get to the front of one ‘queue’ (I use the term loosely because in reality it will be more like a scrum), and then you have to start all over again for the next check
• There is no published information about what this process should cost but there do seem to be a number of ‘fees’ that need to be paid. This is not unreasonable; after all we pay to have an MOT test each year in the UK, but the fees seem to vary and there are no receipts…

People inevitably get frustrated at the length of time the process is taking – it is hot and tempers are short – so it is a pretty volatile place to be. I felt bad that I was asking two of my team to go through the daily ordeal of battling their way through this process. I know they hated it – one of them said he would rather do anything else – but the appearance of a white woman at the police station would only have complicated the process even more and made the fees higher!

Language Learning

As I try to speak more French I increasingly find that I am half way through a sentence and I realise I don’t know the French word I want to say. I ‘um’ and ‘ah’ a bit, trying to retrieve the word from my brain (although in reality it has probably never been there in the first place) and then in desperation I say the word in English, with an inflection that implies a question. I am surprised at how many times the person I am speaking to says ‘Oui’ and then repeats the very same word but with a French pronunciation. This week, using this technique, I have learnt the French for:

flexible

complication

measure

economic

social

individual

Another technique I find helpful for remembering words is to think of another English word meaning (almost) the same thing I want to say. So:

To ask is demander

To stay is rester

To look is regarder

And so on. But my favourite French word so far is the word for raincoat – it is impermeable, which is just what you need a raincoat to be…

10 ways my life is different in Africa

Living and working in a country that is not your own inevitably means a change in lifestyle.
On a day-to-day basis (and in no particular order) for me these changes include:

1. I put more salt on my food - it means I don't wake up in the middle of the night with cramp
2. I eat less meat (see previous blog)
3. I rarely drink alcohol
4. I drink more 'sodas' (Coke, 7 Up, Fanta, etc)
5. I go to bed earlier
6. I get up earlier (not always by choice!)
7. My driving style changes
8. I don't watch TV (although I do bring and borrow DVDs)
9. I wash up in cold water
10. I shower in cold water

I could go on but as the title of this blog was '10 ways...' I won't!

Work

It occurred to me that casual readers of this blog might get the impression that I am in Chad just so I can comment occassionally about the cross-cultural experience. So I thought I should write something about work.

I spend my working week at the MAF hangar, which is at the international airport in N'Djamena, 6kms across the city from where I am living. It is not a particularly busy airport and there are probably on average less than 10 take-offs or landings of aircraft during the day (with several international flights also arriving and departing through the night).

Here are the two MAF aircraft parked on the apron in front of our hangar:

For those of you interested in airplanes (other than as a means to get from A to B) the one on the left is a Cessna Caravan - C208 - and the one on the right is a Cessna 182.

The majority of my time is spent sitting at a desk working on a computer, doing all the things that managers do. This week that seemed to be mostly about finances - trying to understand the programme's budget, verifying income and expenditure and answering questions from the finance department at our head office in the UK. And it all takes place here:

It is the first office I have worked in where my job title was on the door and it is a daily reminder that, whatever happens, I am accountable - the buck stops with me!

Meat Matters (vegetarian readers may wish to look away now)

When I am overseas I tend to eat much less meat then when I am in the UK as finding a good source of meat can be a challenge. As far as I am concerned in this context ‘good’ means that, prior to purchase, two important criteria need to have been met:

1) The meat must not have been kept in a freezer that is powered by an erratic electricity supply and therefore has most likely defrosted and re-frozen numerous times, and

2) The meat must not have been kept uncovered and surrounded by flies for hours on end in soaring temperatures.

Often when you do find someone who sells meat that reaches these not unreasonable standards you find that the animal that sacrificed its life for my dinner has had a long, hard life and the end result is tough, stringy and fairly tasteless.

In Dodoma, Tanzania the ‘best’ place to buy chicken was, not surprisingly, the chicken market. This is an area of the market where hundreds of live chickens are kept in cages awaiting their fate. As the customer you get to choose your chicken and it is then unceremoniously pulled from the cage and taken out of sight, but not out of hearing. After a few seconds of squawking and a long 15 minute wait in the hot sun the stall holder reappears and presents you with a small plastic bag containing your chicken pieces. Unfortunately, the fact that the bird is probably only for sale because it has stopped producing eggs and is therefore no longer of any value to its owner also means that it is past its best as far as the quality of its meat is concerned. In the three months I was in Dodoma it is an experience I felt I only needed to go through once!

In complete contrast in Kampala, Uganda I was spoiled by the existence of a butcher who had discovered the gap in the market, specifically amongst the large ex-pat community, for good quality meat. The selection and standard of the meat on sale was comparable to anything you would find in the UK.

In South Sudan there is goat… It would arrive on the compound on four legs; spend a few days tethered under a tree and end up as dinner.

Here in N’Djamena, Chad there seem to be two options.

·         There is the supermarket (think corner shop, rather than Tesco or Sainsbury) that has a freezer which always seems to be full of enormous packs of chicken pieces. Apart from being far too much meat for me on my own I am not sure it meets criteria 1) above, or

·         There is the man who comes to the compound once a week on his bicycle and sells huge cuts of beef that look like this:

I have no idea where he gets the meat from and somehow I doubt it meets criteria 2) above but as this seems to be the way that all the international MAF staff buy their meat then I guess it’s OK.

It is also one of the few things I have bought so far in Chad that I think represents value for money. Having chopped it up into cubes and separated it into bags for freezing I reckon I have enough meat for about 8 meals and all for little more than £4.00 GBP.

Of course, I have no idea yet what it tastes like so I may still end up having to find more ways to cook rice, tomatoes, onions and peppers…

How you know it's hot

Chad is hot. It ranks alongside South Sudan as the hottest place I have lived. If you ask me ‘how hot is it?’ my answer will be a vague ‘high 30s to mid 40s (centigrade)’ as I have made a conscious decision not to look at a thermometer too often. When it is this hot I find that knowing exactly how hot it is just makes me feel even hotter.

If you can’t imagine what it’s like to live in such a hot place maybe this list will give you a bit of an idea.

• The sun may be shining but, unlike the UK, that is not a reason to go outside
• On entering a room I make sure I position myself as close to a fan as possible
• I am just sitting, seemingly exerting no energy, and yet I am sweating
• I spend quite a lot of time thinking about when I will next be able to take a shower
• I take three showers a day – one in the morning, one after work and one before going to bed
• I prefer a cold shower
• After the shower I can’t seem to get dry and then I realise I have already started sweating again
• Working with a laptop on my lap creates large damp patches on my legs
• I don’t need to plan what I am going to eat too far in advance as frozen food takes less than half an hour to defrost
• If I forget to put the butter back in the fridge it quickly turns into a liquid
• Toothpaste and all other gels and creams are always soft and a bit gooey
• My laundry takes less time to dry than it does to wash
• I long for it to rain
• The sky looks like this:

You have got to be kidding...

Here in N'Djamena the most popular form of transport seems to be the motorbike. For a capital city there is surprisingly little traffic but driving anywhere requires you to be constantly looking in all your mirrors keeping an eye out for motorbikes that seem to appear from nowhere and weave dangerously in between the cars.

There is no requirement for motorcyclists to take any sort of test and so, not surprisingly, there is a high accident rate. In an attempt to improve road safety the government has recently introduced legislation requiring motorcyclists and their passengers to where a crash helmet. In fact it is supposedly mandatory for a motorcyclist to carry a spare helmet at all times. Even in the short time I have been here I have noticed many more motorcyclists wearing helmets although, as yet, it is not being universally enforced.

As this is Africa the motorbike is used to carry not just people but also anything else that needs to get from a to b. The Chadians don't seem to go in for this in quite the same way as the Ugandans where, amongst other things, I saw a fridge, a coffin, numerous turkeys, 5 children, a large sheet of glass and at least 10 plastic chairs being carried on motorbikes at different times. However, they do have their moments here and there is a story going around at the moment of a man who was carrying a goat on his motorbike (I have no idea how he managed to get it to stay on the bike but I guess that is another story!). In order to comply with the new laws he made sure the goat was wearing a crash helmet...

Apparently the police who stopped him didn't see the funny side of this and the driver was beaten up by them. There are no reports about what happened to the goat and sadly no pictures of it wearing its helmet!

Construction or Destruction?

A couple of days after I moved into my new house I noticed a pool of water outside my kitchen window. As I had just done some washing up I wondered if there was a problem with a blocked drain. Over the next few days I realised that the pool was rapidly becoming a small lake and that the water seemed to be running out from under the house. I decided it was more likely to be a burst pipe and so the Chadian builder used for such problems was called in. When I got back from work on Thursday this was the sight that greeted me:

Those of you who know Africa will notice the multi-purpose red and yellow
Nido (powdered milk) tin, in this instance used to scoop the water from the hole!

For reasons I do not fully understand (because of my lack of understanding of both plumbing and French) repairing the burst pipe outside also involved replacing the pipes to the kitchen sink. So there were two men in the kitchen taking it in turns to use a screwdriver as a chisel in an attempt to break up the concrete wall and remove the pipes and taps. When they left on Thursday evening this was what my kitchen sink looked like:

I was told the workmen would be back on Friday. When the boss came to the office with the invoice for the work I foolishly assumed that the work was finished and I would be returning home that afternoon to a newly repaired, fully functioning kitchen. Unfortunately that was not the case. Both the hole in the ground and the hole in the wall remain but I at least have water in the kitchen now, through a brand new tap and pipe system.

I asked the compound guard when he thought the workmen would be back and he replied 'Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, Inshallah (God willing)'. I hope so...

My new 'home'

This week, after 2 weeks of staying in a guest room on the MAF compound in N'Djamena, I moved to the house that will be my 'home' for my time here. The previous occupant had left the day before I arrived and before I could move in it was necessary to treat the infestation of termites that had eaten away at the wooden window frames of two of the rooms. I'm not about to worry about a couple of week's delay if it means I can live in a termite-free house!

Moving day coincided with the first heavy rain of the season and so moving things the short distance across the compound also involved avoiding the puddles and trying not to get too much mud indoors.

Here are some pictures of my new home.



The outside of my house - I live on the ground floor
and another family live on the top floor



The living room with the all-important
ceiling fan and air-conditioning unit



The kitchen - note the purple rubbish bucket,

which for reasons best known to the manufacturer

has 'I love football' embossed on the lid...



The shower, including the obligatory

African concrete grouting

  

The view across the compound from my front door

Money matters

One of the first things to get to grips with in a new country is the currency - not only what it looks like but also the exchange rate and what you should be paying for different things.

The currency in Chad is the Central African Franc (CFA), which is also used in Cameroon, Central African Republic, Republic of Congo, Equatorial Guinea and Gabon. It is one of those currencies with lots of zeros and there are a variety of different notes and coins, although the smaller denominations are in quite short supply.

Some CFA bank notes

There are about 500 CFA to 1 USD and 800 CFA to 1 GBP so I spend a lot of my time doing mental arithmetic trying to work out how much things cost.

My first experience of buying vegetables from a street seller revealed that the most common amount charged is 500 (cinq cent) CFA - for half a kilo of tomatoes, peppers or onions. It was also what I would have been charged for 3 large carrots (I was very excited to see carrots for sale!) but when I opened my purse I only had either a 10,000 CFA note or 250 CFA in coins and the vendor had no change so I got the carrots for half-price. I guess he is hoping I will become one of his regular customers and give him the money owed next time I buy from him, which I probably will. I have found that it is important to get to know the people you buy from as that way you can also avoid the 'khawaja tax' - the extra bit of money that is added to every transaction because you are a 'khawaja' (the Arabic word for 'white person' or 'foreigner').