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