December.

So it’s been about a month since I’ve written a blog entry...sorry about that. I’m still alive...doing well...but a lot has happened since thanksgiving. So I guess I’ll try to recount the events of the past month as best I can...

Le Paludisme.

It finally happened. After almost four months malaria free, the little mosquito transmitted, blood infesting parasites decided to bid me welcome to Moundou. Now...to those of us from the US of A, malaria sounds very serious. Not to worry. I’m fine. In fact, most of my friends here could not believe I had never had malaria before, and did not know there was no malaria in the states. I did, however, have quite the eventful first malaria experience. I got sick on a Monday. Fever, fatigue. I tried to wish it away, took some drugs, and taught my class that evening. Unfortunately, you cannot ignore malaria, and the next day I found myself at the local clinic for a blood test. The test came back positive, I was given a prescription for medication, and spent the next few days at home. The medicine I was prescribed is supposed to work in 24 hours, but 24 hours later I was still running a fever of 102. By Thursday I had added the runs, and a rash to the list of symptoms. Friday I went back to the clinic. This time the doctor wanted two things: a typhoid fever test, and a stool sample. Blood tests are fine, but giving a poop sample was something I had hoped to avoid in my life. But you do what you have to do. I made my way to the lab at which point the lab tech told me to go get “feuille de mangue” and to use for my stool sample...at which point I laughed, thinking he was joking. Now for those of you who don’t speak French “un feuille de mangue” translates to a mango leaf....and he was not joking. He proceeded to hand me a mango leaf and explain how one gives a sample, folds the leaf, and holds it together with by piercing the sides with two small sticks found somewhere on the ground. So I surrendered to my mango leaf fate...unfortunately mango leaves don’t work very well when all that’s coming out of you is liquid (sorry for the graphic details) ...and left the clinic. And after all that, they didn’t really find anything. By Saturday, I was on the road to recovery. So that was malaria for me...a five day fever, the runs, a rash, and a mango leaf. Quite a story though.

Final Exams and a Visit from the President.

This past month also brought the end of our first teaching term....which of course means final exams. Having been a student for my entire life, up until now, it is odd to be on the other side of things...giving and grading exams rather than studying and taking exams. Now, final exams would have been pretty uneventful save teaching my students (who have probably never seen an American style test in their life) how to take a test with multiple choice and fill in the blank questions....then the president decided to come to town. When the president comes to town everything shuts down, you really shouldn’t open your business, and shouldn’t be out walking around...unless you’re on the street to welcome him. That being said...he came in the middle of exam week...and to make things more difficult, half my students work for the media. He was supposed to come in the morning...but morning turned into afternoon...and around 4:20 Rose and I found ourselves on the street waving to the president as he passed by greeting the crowds through the sunroof of his vehicle. So...I arrived at school half an hour late, found a few students waiting for the exam, and no power, or generator, to print the thing (which I would have done in the morning if the building had been open.) So the exam was pushed back to the next day. Scheduling Chadian style. I still have a few students who haven’t taken it.

Christmas.

Saturday, the 18^th, Rose and I took a bus to N’Djamena to spend some days with the Enns (an MCC family) before Christmas. It’s always wonderful to see the Enns and spend a few days in a “North American bubble” in the middle of Chad. We took advantage of their oven, cooked festive foods as best we could, sang Christmas carols, and met Bekah and Joshua...their children who are visiting for the holiday. On the 23^rd we returned to Moundou to experience a real Chadian Christmas. It was an interesting Christmas. Not bad. Just really different. Rather than being at home with family everyone was out and about...celebrating with singing and dancing and friends. As far as my celebration went...I ate goat. Went to church...several times. Watched “Muppet Christmas Carol” with Rose on my computer. Gave a handmade card and candy stuffed in an Ethiopian Airlines complementary sock (makeshift stocking) to my host family. Received a Christmas text message from my grandmother. And had a wonderful Christmas phone call from my family.

I love you and miss you all. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! JOYEUX NOEL!!! Christ est né!

Thanksgiving pie.

A Thanksgiving without pie is simply no thanksgiving at all...even when you are half way around the world. While I didn’t get to eat pumpkin pie, or watch David Letterman guess which pies his mother made this year, or dress up like a Pilgrim or Indian for Thanksgiving dinner, or reenact the slaughtering of the Thanksgiving turkey with my Aunt and cousins, I did have pie. Delicious pie.

The original plan was to cook a Thanksgiving meal. That fell through the cracks when Pastor Sem and his wife Eunice told us they would be traveling the week of Thanksgiving...they are the only people we know in Moundou who own an oven. Plan B: get creative. On Monday, Rose and I found ourselves with some unexpected free time in the morning and got to talking about Thanksgiving. After some brainstorming, and a trip to Cybersat for some googling, we decided to try our hand at papaya pie, sans* oven.

Our first task: trip to the market. We visited the grande marché early Tuesday morning. Unfortunately it was a little too early in the morning and most of the vendors were just opening up shop. In spite of the hour we checked farine*, sucre*, beurre*, and noix de muscade* off our list. Wednesday afternoon after class we stopped in at the petit marché down the road from my house. Here we picked up l’huile*, and visited the poultry section...aka...the shack full of chickens, for des oeufs*. We also searched in vain for brown sugar...and when Rose returned to the grand marché they had just sold the last of it...so we made do with yellow sugar instead. Cannelle* came from Naomi in Ndjamena via Levy mail (Levy is our MCC country rep who came to Moundou for a visit) and the ever important papayas came from the trees in my yard.

The only problem with celebrating a foreign holiday is simply that...it’s foreign. No day off. With little free time during the day, Rose and I decided to veiller* to cook the pies. For Thanksgiving pie you do what you gotta do.

We started cooking around 21:00. Around 21:30 the power went out...and didn’t come back on. We cooked by headlamp. ** Peel papayas. Mix with sugar and spice. Simmer. Mix with egg. ** Sift flour. Mix with butter, oil, salt, lemon, water. ** Press crust into frying pan (the only round metal thing we could find.) Pour in filling.** Bake for 1 hr...or 2½hrs with a make-shift metal pot oven over charcoal with a frying pan pie suspended on rocks inside. ** Delicious. ** At 3:00am we had successfully made two papaya pies...one of which we ate for breakfast the next morning. The other, we shared with our English students in the afternoon.

Campfire pies...Thanksgiving miracle number 1. If there is a number 1 there has to be a number 2. Our second Thanksgiving miracle came Thursday afternoon. Luck would have it that Levy was in town and planning a visit to two villages with my host Dad and his organization BAOBAB (BAOBAB is one of MCC’s partner organizations who works with food security in rural villages) and asked Rose and I to come along. What could be more appropriate than talking about food security on Thanksgiving...a holiday with its roots in sharing resources and food. We greeted one another, chatted food security, visited the fields to evaluate the growth of manioc, tomatoes, peppers, etc. and then shared a meal together. And the first thing on the menu?? Wass in Ngambai or melon in French...whichever language you use, it’s the closest thing to pumpkin you can find in Chad. Pumpkin...Thanksgiving miracle number 2. We shared our pumpkin, sugar cane, chicken and boule from a communal dish...across cultures...with an abundance of gratefulness for the food and company we have to share. This year in Chad, Thanksgiving was well kept.

Farine: flour

Sucre: sugar

Beurre: butter

Noix de muscade: nutmeg

L’huile: oil

Des œufs: eggs

Veiller: to stay up

The Illusion of Control.

I am out of control. Well, not really…don’t get worried. But I have been thinking a lot about control…and the control and structure that we build around our lives. Surprises and uncertainties have no place in our boxes. We know the cause and effect of all things, we have a solution for all problems, and we have tamed the world around us and built our own controllable world within it…wouldn’t want anything messing with our five year plan. Our lives are our own and we will sustain them.

Now…I’m not saying that all control is bad. Just a little jest about our propensity to become our own gods. Our western world “control freak” disorder has led us into this illusion of total control. It’s like the reckless teenager whose youth gives him a sense of invincibility. The invincibility that, in the western world, we never seem to grow out of.

Contrast. I have lost the illusion. Being dropped in the middle of a completely new and different cultural milieu helps, but Chad really isn’t a place where one maintains an illusion of control. For instance, I’ll be surprised if I make it through this year without getting run over by a moto. Sometimes I think they drive straight at me on purpose…like one has said to the other, “let’s play chicken with the Nassara* on the velo*…see what she does.”

I’ve also heard that Moundou is the third worst city in Africa for malaria. My host mom says that malaria is the welcome for all strangers who come to Moundou. I told her it’s not a very good welcome. She laughed. Now, I haven’t fallen* sick with the fateful palu* yet…and I am taking prophylactics…but really, it’s only a matter of time. Sickness in general is something to be concerned about here. Lots of microscopic creepy crawlies that want to get inside you (and I don’t suggest hosting them in your liver.)

Death happens often. “La place mortuaire” was one of the first French phrases I learned. A few weeks ago my host mom had to choose between two funerals that were happening at the same time. If I had to guess the amount of family members or close friends that someone in my host family has lost since I’ve been here…it would be upwards of fifteen. I’ve been here three months.

All this to say...safety and danger, sickness and health, life and death…here…are much more acute. And I find myself in the realization that I am not my own sustainer…and I cannot hope to be. I am out of control. With this new realization, this heightened sensitivity to a need for a sustainer, I have found myself seeking my God and my sustainer with a more genuine depth of need. I realize that each day, moment, each sortie* it is God that grants me safety, health, and life…because on my own, I would not survive.

…Which gives me pause…

Does this mean I have less need of a sustainer in my US life? No. It only means that I am more blind. The depth of need, the intensity of vulnerability is consistent. Which is why our illusion of total control is so dangerous…our need is not as apparent. But who has sustained us? Who has thought well to situate us in a place where we have the knowledge or means to cure disease, or to organize a safe and healthy public sphere? And who protects us in our planes, trains, and automobiles? Our God, creator, sustainer, and life-giver. Chad has taken away my blinders. I see more clearly the need to be grateful in all instances and more conscious that I am not my own god. It is this realization that I hope to carry prayerfully throughout my time here in Chad and my life when I return. Be thankful to God for the life he gives us, and seek his blessing, healing and protection in all circumstances.

Nassara: white person

velo: bicycle

fallen (sick): in French, you fall sick…or tomber malade

palu(disme): malaria

sortie: going out

Daily Life.

Life in Tchad starts at 6:00am. Well…actually earlier for most people but 6:00 is when I get up. Waking up has never been my strong suit…and I still entertain the idea of staying in bed for fifteen more minutes…but it is a little easier here. At 6, the sun is up, the roosters are crowing, dishes are being washed, fires started, and my host mom is shouting instructions across the courtyard. It’s enough to remind me that I need to get up…can’t be lazy while everyone else works.

Once I drag myself out of bed, lave ma figure, and throw on a pagne I search for things to do. Everyone seems to have their tasks and I am still finding my niche in the morning chores. It is my job to set the table for breakfast, sometimes I help sweep the courtyard, and one time I almost got make the eggs…but my sister did it for me when I didn’t know where to find a bowl, frying pan, or whether to cook them over the fire, the coals, or the little gas stove. I’m still learning…hopefully cooking the eggs will be my job soon.

I eat breakfast around 7:00 with my host parents. Guests, older siblings who are visiting, and sometimes my little brother Roland will join us, but it is not typical for a Chadian family to eat together. The children share their part and the adults share theirs. Breakfast consists of a thermos of hot water to be mixed with your choice of: Nescafe, tea, Nido (milk powder), Matinal (chocolate milk powder), or all of the above. I take my Nescafe sans sucre which my host parents always like to point out to all of their friends. My non-sugared instant coffee is very peculiar to Chadians who usually put at least five sugar cubes in everything. Food in the morning usually consists of Chadian baguettes, jam, laughing cow cheese and eggs. Sometimes we have avacado salad, beignets, or some kind of fish or meat soup.

My mornings, lately, have been pretty uneventful. After breakfast I usually sweep out my room and tidy up a bit. Dirt/sand gets everywhere in Chad so tasks like sweeping and cleaning shoes are very important. For the first month we had Ngambai lessons in the morning. Now that they are finished and English classes are in full swing, I spend the mornings at home preparing for class. My lack of teaching experience, and my effort to supplement the book’s endless grammar exercises with a few lessons and activities of my own make lesson planning very time consuming. But this is only the first term…ça va aller. If I’m not preparing, I hang out with whoever happens to be around, I help in the kitchen if needed, do my laundry, and sometimes entertain my two year old friend Bonté while her mom’s at work.

Lunch happens anytime between 13:00-15:00 and usually consists of la boule and la sauce. Boule is the traditional and preferred Chadian dish. Everyone always begins any conversation about boule by telling me that, “la boule te donne la force!!” or, boule gives you strength!! Boule is a cooked mixture of flour and water…but not flour like we would think of flour. There are many types of boule: rice boule, millet boule, corn boule, and manioch boule made from their respective types of flour. It is cooked in a large kettle over a fire and stirred with a large wooden spoon. Once it is ready it is placed in greased calabashes which are placed upside down on a plate. The boule takes the calabash’s dome shape and can be cut in slices or eaten communally with your hands. Eating with your hands from a communal dish is the traditional, and preferred way of eating in Chad. While I have eaten this way on occasion, I eat much slower than anyone here and my host mom worries that I won’t get enough to eat. There are many different types of sauce that are served with boule. My favorite sauce is made from peanuts and mushrooms…my least favorite sauce is gumbo which is made from ocra and has the consistency of snot. While it’s still not my favorite, I think I am growing to like it a little.

Once lunch is over, there is usually only about an hour before I have to go to school. I spend this hour resting, looking over my lesson, or doing last minute prep. Around 15:30 I jump on my bike and head to school. English classes are in the afternoons from 16:00-18:00. I am teaching two different levels this term: Beginner 2 and Intermediate Low 1. They meet twice a week for class and once a week for combined lab. Each of my classes has about ten students of all different ages but mostly in the 18-35 age range with a few exceptions. When the power is on class usually lasts the full two hours. When the power is out we have to end early because it is too dark in the classroom to see anything. It’s better for me when the power is out because I get to bike home before it is completely dark.

When I get back after class I say hello to the family, use one of the sentences in Ngambai that I know well…ma kaou kila bbol lem kei…to tell them that I’m going to put my bag in my room, and then I join them in the courtyard or salon. Dinner happens right after I get home from class. We typically eat rice with some kind of meat or fish soup to go on top, pasta, or fish.

After dinner is la culte familial…or bible study. At my house we have a family bible study everyday except Sunday. It used to be at 6:00am but now that classes have started it got moved to the evenings so the kids have more time in the morning. Like everything else in Chad, our family bible study is very formal. We have a set schedule for who will preside, do the reading, and give the message. We start off by singing two or three songs, reading a scripture, my host parents interpret the passage, we have a time for prayer requests, and then someone prays. The time ends with a song while each person walks around the circle to shake everyone elses hand.

After prayer it is usually 20:30 and I am already exhausted. I take my shower, take my doxy, do some reading, blog writing, or paper grading, and go to bed by 22:00.




Some new things…

*I spent the past two weeks in Ougadougou, Burkina Faso on MCC retreat.

*I got my long term Chad visa!!!

*I got a “sonnerie” or bell for my bike…maybe now I won’t run into people anymore

*I had a bout with a liver amoeba…or at least that’s what we decided it was. I had a strange, sharp pain in my right side for a few days and it really hurt to breathe…which is kind of important. Luckily I was in N’Djamena and Naomi (who is a nurse) diagnosed me with her “medicine in developing countries” book and gave me a pill that took care of my little friend. But he put up quite a fight and caused quite a bit of pain the day he was dying.

Some Pictures

In an effort to avoid the typical American tourist image I haven't had the chance to take too many pictures. I do have a few though...and I might as well share what I got.

My mosquito netted bed












The other side of my room...with the ever important water filter!










Eglise Evangelique au Tchad numero 8!










Speaking in church












My new mode of transportation












Getting my hair did












Looking African in my new outfit
















Sitting with my host Mom and two year old Bonte in the house

Sinks

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about sinks. I really miss sinks. They are very practical…they are nice to wash your hands in, or your face, or to brush your teeth, and water is always neatly collected in the basin and drain. I’m perfectly happy, not lacking in anything, and do not need sinks to be happy…but I will definitely appreciate them more when I get back to the states.

It’s amazing how quickly and completely the human mind is capable of adapting to a new concept of normalcy for everyday life. It’s normal to wear a skirt and cover my head when I leave the house. There is nothing strange about dirt roads and the necessity to seek out the most compact, firm looking mud when navigating said dirt (mud) road after it has rained…and I seem to be developing a sixth sense to know when a moto or bicycle is coming fast behind me to pass through on the same narrow strip of passable road that I am walking on. I have learned to bike following the rules of the road Chadian style: if you are bigger and faster, you have the right of way. I bike around the women carrying peanuts or tomatoes on their heads to market, I bike around the boys pushing large wheel barrow type things down the road, I bike around the slow bikes….save for these reasons, I stay as close to the edge of the road as possible. I yield to let the motos pass and we all move aside to let a vehicle or truck pass through. If there are two cars at once going opposite directions sometimes we even stop. I have replaced traffic lanes, stop sign and stop lights with one general rule: if something bigger and faster is coming at me…move…..fast. Yet, this now seems very normal. It is normal to shake everyone’s hand when I enter a room. It is normal to leave for an event when it is time to be there. It is normal for the power to be out more often than it is on. It is normal to sweat.

I find myself thinking about things in the “developed” world almost as if they were dreams…and never reality. From time to time pictures of things like interstates and sidewalks pop into my head. I consider them like a child considers an imaginary world…they seem very foreign now because I have a new normal. While I may miss sinks, it’s only because I still encounter them on occasion here. There is a sink at Rose’s house. Until I used it I didn’t think about sinks. Similarly, I hadn’t thought about how my appearance might have changed to fit my new normal…until I saw my picture on my MCC prayer card. I looked at it, then showed it to Rose. We were both shocked at how clean I looked…not that I’m not clean here…maybe polished is a better word. I’m already so removed from the normalcy of my US life it is interesting to consider what I will feel like in ten months when I am heading back to the states.

All this to say, Chad is quickly becoming my home. There are things here that could be helped…like the lack of sewers, and lack of any type of public sanitation, but there are also things that are simply a new normal. I might miss sinks when I am reminded of them…but I don’t need them. I think we in the “developed” world look at a place like Chad and see a disaster. It’s not a disaster. It’s just a place with some problems, some differences, and a lot of incredible people living their lives in the normalcy that they know….and now, the normalcy that I know.

Some new things…

*I acted as a human food processor and helped my sisters pound meat, some kind of grain/flour, and vegetables together in a life-sized mortar pestle type thing

*I started teaching English Classes. I am teaching two classes: Beginner 2 and Intermediate Low 1. It’s exhausting…but going well so far.

*I had an outfit made…and I think it’s pretty legit :)

*I successfully biked home, in a skirt, after a three-hour-long rainstorm…I wasn’t even that muddy when I got there

Love you all.

La Chorale

Rose and I joined the church choir. It kind of happened by accident…not that I didn’t want to…I’d been planning on joining sooner rather than later. But I was sitting in the yard one day and heard my mom and sister talking about going to church later that evening. I’ve figured out over the past few weeks that I usually will not be told about things that are happening…until right before they happen. The week before I had missed out on attending a Saturday evening church service with my family because I was in my room for a few minutes and they didn’t want to disturb me…needless to say I’ve learned to ask. So, when I heard my mom and sister talking about going to church I made a point to find out what was going on….Mama informed me…

«C’est la préparation pour la Culte…et Annie va a la chorale. Est-ce que tu veux aller a la chorale avec Annie? »

La Chorale!! Yes of course I want to go to choir practice with Annie! So naturally I called up Rose, told her that we were going to choir practice, and at seize heure Rose and I hopped on the back of Motos with my host mom and sister Annie to go to choir.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get to sing right away. We had to be visitors first…but in the process of visiting we got all the details from Annie about the choir and she presented Rose and I, told them we wanted to sing, and told them that in order to sing we needed les notes musique (I had made a comment to her about how none of the hymnals have music in them.) The next Tuesday we showed up at rehearsal, were quickly welcomed, and provided with a hymnal with actual written music in it…not just words…the first one I’d seen since I’ve been in Chad. The following Sunday we sang in church.

Some things about la Chorale…

1. Traditional Chadian singing does not have harmony. There is one melody and everyone kind of sings around it…or whatever they want…especially the older women. The choir we joined is made up of mainly young adults and sings in four parts. We are never on key. At least the “belt it out” strategy covers up my mispronounced French words.

2. One of our choir directors looks a whole lot like Barak Obama. One day we’ll have to tell him. It would probably be a huge compliment since everyone in Chad is obsessed with Barak…as evidenced by the fact that there are always at least three or four girls at church every Sunday wearing Obama Girl tee-shirts

3. The songs we practice at choir practice are not the only songs we will be singing at church on Sunday. I found this out while standing in front of the church, blindsided by a song that I had never heard before that we were leading the congregation in singing…and dancing. First things first: we already stick out…enough said. Second: it is difficult in any circumstance to mouth the words and pretend to sing a song you don’t know. Third: it’s even harder in a foreign language. Fourth: Add dancing to the mix and it is a recipe for disaster. Somehow I kept my cool and I don’t think anyone really noticed that I had no idea what I was doing

4. I immediately regretted the decision to join the choir when I realized that long sleeved choir robes are hot. Church is hot to begin with…pack enough people into a building in Chad and it is going to be stifling. On the plus side, the choir has its own supply of small plastic fans for each member…but I don’t think plastic fans will suffice in March and April when it’s 120 degrees and we’re wearing hot robes. Maybe we’ll have to take “heat days” from choir.

5. The robes may be hot…but they’re legit…and have a sweet looking graduation style cap to match, complete with tassle.

Life.

Hello all!

I had written a nice long blog entry about my life here in Chad...and then the internet cut when I was posting it. Thats how it goes I guess :) Instead I will post a few random updates...

I have freckles. It seems that the hot Chadian sun is causing my skin to freak out. All of a sudden I have LOTS of freckles on my arms. I mean I've had some in the past but not like this. They keep multiplying.

Some things that are supposed to make life easier make it harder...we got bikes today. They are hard to pedal and I ended up really muddy and sweaty. Haha...I will learn, and maybe get my bike adjusted a bit!

We joined the church choir. That's right BRH...I replaced you :)

I'm hoping to get some pics up soon. Love you all and miss you!

Learning to sit…

Two weeks have gone by since I have been living here in Moundou with my host family. It truly has been an incredible experience so far, but I am quickly discovering how much of a task based, fast paced North American I am. Life here moves at a different pace. For those of you who have studied African culture or have visited here yourself, you probably have an idea of what I am talking about. In fact I had an idea about what I am talking about…but it is different now that I am truly living it.

After we arrived in Moundou on Wednesday, Pastor Sem, the supervisor of CENTRAM told us that we would have Thursday to settle in, Friday he would come to take us to see the school, and Saturday we would begin language lessons. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday came and went with no word from Sem. We found out later that someone from the church had died and everyone was busy with the funeral. Death here is common. Since I have been here two people that my host family knew well have passed away.

The rain and infrequency of electricity are also factors to contend with. We are in the midst of the rainy season…which, much to my surprise, has allowed for a few cool mornings. I even wore long sleeves two mornings this week! The rain also makes leaving the house very difficult. There is one paved road in Moundou. The rest are dirt/sand and sometimes impassable because of the water and mud. Two days of language lessons have been cancelled because of the rain.

I can’t remember the last time we had electricity. Haha. Actually I can…it was Thursday, the day after I got here, but that was two weeks ago. The whole of Moundou has been in the dark since then…save for the use of small generators and an hour here and there when the lights come on and tease us. Luckily my family uses a generator for a few hours every night. It’s a nice luxury to have. From what I understand, my host mom works as some kind of secretary. She has left for work all week only to return a little bit later having been sent home. For her, there is no work to do without the power.

There is no doubt that these factors contribute to the pace of life here…but they do not make it. People make the pace of life. Over the past two weeks I have been learning how to sit with people. I sit with people on the veranda, I sit with people in the yard, I sit with people in the kitchen. This is something, as North Americans, we are not very good at. We always need a task. And sitting with people for the sake of sitting with people is rare. We always make it awkward. I amazed at the number of people who have come to visit my family since I have been here. They are various friends and family who usually show up unannounced for no particular reason but to visit. We share water, tea, peanuts, and conversation. I am learning to love this slower pace of life and all that comes with it. Being with people shouldn’t require tasks or distractions. People are valuable and interesting enough on their own.

This past week Rose and I started language lessons. We are learning Ngambai…the local language here in Moundou. Right now, it’s very slow going…especially since we are working from French to Ngambai. Learning an African tonal language is hard enough, but learning said language by way of another foreign and still difficult language is another thing entirely. I’m loving it though. It’s a good challenge! I am anxiously awaiting the start of English classes which begin the first week of October. I think I will enjoy teaching…and having a tangible task to focus on! :)

That’s all for now. Thanks to all who are praying. I miss and love you all!

Peace.

Send me mail at:
Amy Roberson
c/o Pastor Sem Beasnael
Universite Evangelique (ISETAER)
BP 59
Moundou, Chad AFRICA

Life in Chad!

No worries…I made it! First of all, I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update. This is the first chance I've had to use the internet...but that should get better now that I am more established here!

After a several months of anticipation I have finally made it to Moundou! While it has only been a little over two weeks since I left for orientation, so much has happened. I guess I’ll begin at the beginning…

On August 12th I said my final goodbyes, finished the interesting and difficult process of packing for a year in one suitcase, and got in the car for the short trip to Akron, PA for a week of orientation. I was only missing one thing…my visa. The trouble began when I first mailed my application and passport to the Chadian embassy in DC back in mid July, only to have it returned to me a week later marked as “undeliverable as addressed” After some investigation, I found a new address on the embassy’s website. Apparently they had moved last September and neglected to update the information. I remailed the application that same day, crisis averted…or so I thought. It was an interesting and scary thing to leave home for a year and not know if I would actually be able to leave. Lacking the one thing that was required before leaving the country, I was in limbo. I tried contacting the embassy multiple times to no avail, and finally on the 16th, three days before I was scheduled to leave, I called one more time. “Chad” said the voice on the other end of the line. Finally someone answered! And what was the problem? The embassy would not accept the type of check I sent…so nothing had been processed. With only three days left before my flight there was only one thing I could do. I sent my dad to the embassy in DC the next day, he picked up my passport with a newly inserted Chadian visa and hand-delivered it to me in Akron!!! Following so much uncertainty and nervousness I must admit I was a little emotional. I might have even teared up a bit. I know, crazy right? I was just excited that I would actually get to go :)

After a week of orientation with around 60 other SALTers heading to countries all around the world, around 30 IVEPers coming from countries all around the world for a year-long service term in the US or Canada, and 7 YAMENers coming from several different countries and heading out on service assignments elsewhere, I was a little sad when it came time to leave my newly made friends. (MCC really likes their acronyms if you haven’t noticed!)

We left for the airport at 2:00am on the 19th. Rose, Arienne and I were the first three to leave Akron to catch our flights in Philly. We flew from Philly to DC to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia with a tech stop in Rome (unfortunately we didn’t even get off the plane). Once in Addis, Rose and I bid farewell to Arienne who is spending the year in Burkina Faso, walked around for a bit, then passed through security to board our plane to N’jdamena. It would be an understatement to say we stuck out. Our flight was full of mostly men, dressed in suits or the typical Islamic dress, and our efforts to fit in by wearing skirts and headscarves probably made us stand out even more.

We arrived safely in N’djamena and made it through the airport without a problem. Pastor Sem (who we will be working with at CENTRAM), Levy (the MCC country rep), and Doug and Naomi Enns (MCC service workers in N’djamena) met us in the airport. We spent the next four days in N’djamena with the Enns recovering from jet-lag, learning about Chadian culture, adjusting to the heat, and adjusting to the infrequency of electricity :)

N’djamena is an interesting city. It is the capital city of Chad but has very little infrastructure…less than any city I’ve visited anywhere in the world. Next time I head north I will try to take some pictures...which could apparently get me in trouble with the police! Pictures aren’t supposed to be taken in the capital, but I’ll make sure the coast is clear before I attempt to take any!

Pastor Sem picked us up Wednesday afternoon for the trip to Moundou. It is not too far—about five hours, but the heat, bumpy roads and lack of any restrooms along the way made it seem far. Once we arrived in Moundou we stopped first at Pastor Sem’s house for dinner, headed next to my host home…and ate another dinner, then I said goodbye to Rose as she headed to her host home for a third dinner!

Since Wednesday I have been settling in here in Moundou. It is much cooler than N’djamena, and less desert like. I LOVE my host family. They are wonderful, welcoming, and patient with me and my broken French.

Sorry for the novel…but a lot has happened since I left home. I love you all and I will leave you with a few fun things that I have done/seen…

*communicated only in French
*ate three chicken gizzards (Giving the gizzard is the Chadian way of welcoming guests)
*ate pigeon
*swept a dirt courtyard
*saw a man riding a moto (motorcycle) with a live sheep strapped on
*rode on the back of my host mom’s moto…in a long skirt…without showing my knees
*sifted sand out of flour
*was followed by children chanting “Nassarra” everytime I left my house (Nassara is a Ngambaye word for white person)
*figured out how to change google and blogspot out of arabic so that I could actually sign in to my blog!
*LIVED IN CHAD FOR TEN DAYS!!

Countdown.

In less than two weeks I will be on my way to a week of orientation with my fellow SALTers, all preparing for a year long life changing experience somewhere in the world. I guess I'm finally starting to feel a little nervous...but I know the reality of living in Chad for a year will not hit me until about three months in. That's just how it goes I guess.

I've been spending my summer soaking up time with friends and family and of course preparing for this trip. What have I done so far?

* unsuccessfully looked for ANY job that was willing to hire me for only 2
months. I even took a literacy test. I didn't get the job.

* Visited the Eye Doctor, Dentist, and Family Doctor all to attest to the fact
that I am in good health and able to spend a year in Africa.

* Visited the travel clinic for my yellow fever, typhoid fever, and meningitis vaccines. Yay!

* Picked up my 370 Doxycycline from the pharmacy...at which point, after looking at my overloaded bag of pills, the pharmacist asked, "where are you going and for how long!?!?" BRING IT MALARIA.

* Cut 12 inches off of my hair and donated it to locks of love...it's too hot in Chad for long hair.

* Submitted my visa application...only to have it returned a week later reading "undeliverable as addressed." Apparently the Chadian embassy moved back in 2009 and decided not to tell anybody. They didn't even update their address on the bottom of their CURRENT visa application form.

* Re-mailed my visa application form.

* Fundraised $2,310 of the $4,450 I need.

What do I still need to do?

* Receive a Chadian visa before I leave for Akron on August 12th.

* Fill out the rest of my stacks of paperwork for MCC...including forms concerning what to do in the event of my death. Comforting.

* Fundraise at least $1000 more. After that I can make up the rest. It's not too late to donate! ;)

* Call Brigid Hogue to get some tips on living in Africa :)

* Say goodbye to friends

* Pack

Naturally (and not surprisingly)I haven't started packing yet. Actually I have a lot of years-supply-of shopping to do beforehand for things that can't be purchased in Chad. I hope my bottles of contact lense solution and DEET don't take up too much weight in my ONE 50lbs suitcase I am allowed :)

Thanks so much to everyone who has been so supportive and encouraging during this process. To those of you who donated financially, I am so incredibly grateful and blessed by your support. And to everyone who I know is praying for this transition and this coming year, THANK YOU!

Peace.

A Support Letter.

Dear Friends and Family,

As you may know, this August I will begin one year of service with the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) SALT program. SALT stands for Serving And Learning Together and is a one year, cross-cultural program for young adults. As a part of the SALT program I will be serving in Moundou, Chad as an English language teacher. I will be working at the Center for American English (CENTRAM) in Moundou, which is a branch of the Evangelical University of Chad. While in Moundou, I will be living with a Chadian host family as a part of their household. On August 12, 2010 I will leave for a week of orientation and on August 19 I will leave for Chad.

My decision to go to Chad was both an easy and an incredibly difficult one. I know that God has given me a love and appreciation for the many cultures of the world and the desire to serve cross-culturally. While there will be many challenges, I know that I will grow and be stretched mentally, emotionally and spiritually. MCC is an incredible organization dedicated to “relief, development, and peace in the name of Christ,” things that as Christians, we must be deeply committed to. I am excited to serve with such an organization and for the life-changing experience I know this coming year will be.

I am writing to you because I cannot do this alone. I need the support of my family and friends both financially and through your prayers. Thanks to MCC, the financial contribution for each SALTer is only $4,450 for the year. While this is a relatively small amount, I still need the help of my family and friends to reach this goal. I ask that you prayerfully consider supporting me in this way. You can donate by check using the enclosed form or online at https://donate.mcc.org/project/serving-and-learning-together-salt For online donations, add an amount to your basket then choose to donate “in memory, in honor, or in support” followed by “in support of–SALT.” In the box include my full name: Amelia Roberson and my id#: 655717. While financial support is important, even more important are your prayers. Prayer is powerful and will be invaluable during my time in Moundou. Also, if you would like to keep up with me during my year in Chad I will be posting on a blog at http://musingsfrommoundou.blogspot.com Thank you for the ways you all continually impact my life.

Much Love,

Amy

So...I'm moving to Chad.

And so it begins...life after graduation. And with it comes the all important question, "so what are you doing next?"

My answer: I'm moving to Chad!

To be more specific, I'm participating in a program called SALT (Serving and Learning Together) which is run by the Mennonite Central Committee. For a year I will be living in Moundou, Chad as a part of a Chadian household and teaching English language classes at the Center for American English in Moundou; a branch of the Evangelical University of Chad. Chad's official languages are French and Arabic...French where I'll be, along with a local language most likely. I'm pumped...and terrified...but in a good way :)

While I'm in Chad I will do my best to post updates, stories, thoughts, whatever. As most of my friends will attest I'm not the best at keeping in touch...but I promise to try hard!

More to come later.

Much Love.