Friday, November 04, 2005

Dude, where's my toilet? Part Deux

Posting after the fact, due to communication difficulties!

November 2, 2005

Iriba! Iriba! After two weeks in Chad I finally made it to my home base village of Iriba. I again got stuck in Abeche longer than expected, but at least had the chance to go to the local Jamba Juice, also known as a dude with a blender and fruit on the street. Now that’s Eastern Chad living! I was a little weary of the little UN plane ride to Iriba, especially after some stomach flipping sessions in northern Uganda, but the experience was quite alright, perhaps even amusing, as one pilot would craftily swat the bugs on the windshield as we flew along. We arrived on a strip of, well, desert, that was lined by rocks. No building whatsoever to indicate that we had indeed landed in an airport - Iriba International Airport, that is. My colleague and I hitched to our office, as we had no way to communicate that we would be arriving. Within a few hours, I’d made a few acquaintances and already secured a few invitations for showers.

So here is the dealio. My mud-walled, UNHCR ceiling-tarped office and home are one in the same and for now, I don’t have my own room. I am sleeping on the floor of what will become my room in a week’s time, insh’allah. No running water (hence no shower), no electricity, no toilet, no stove, no phones, no food, little furniture (the list just continues), but a whole lotta sand and dust. I’ve got a little partition in the “back yard” that serves the double purpose of toilet (bare hole in the ground) and place of bathing. I get my weightlifting by carrying a bucket of water from the “front yard” back to the partition (past the crying goat that will be the end of Ramadan feast for the guards), where I then play a game of duck-n-bathe, as the partition walls are quite low and in a culture highly concerned with the coverage of women, I must do my best to not give any peep shows. Also funny to find how one’s eating standards can change. I was famished yesterday, without breakfast or lunch, and I started eyeing my canned veggies and fruit cocktail, but wanted something more substantial. I made some pasta, but had nothing to put on it, that is until I came across some semi-molded pesto. While I would never consider consuming the pesto in any other circumstances, I couldn’t resist (When in Tchad…). I did the smell test and it was surprisingly appetizing. Yes, so I have now added mold to my food repertoire. Note to self for next time: pack more food, pack vitamins.

Ah, but Iriba is a welcome relief from N’djamena and even Abeche. The climate is a bit cooler and there’s a constant breeze. I’ve already been warmly received by the Iriban community of humanitarian workers (again, invitations for showers says it all – sounds like a pick-up line, huh?). The town, well, it’s tiny, and I’m elated to be walking place to place. Beyond town lies what seems like vast nothingness. Amazing how people can adapt to such climates. The children, who should of course be in school and not hanging out on the street, are quite timid and not as boisterous as the Abeche children who constantly demand to be given “un cadeau!” Better than asking for money, I suppose.

It’s time to get down to work, but as it is now Eid, the end of Ramadan, people are busy celebrating. I have not yet made it to the camps I will be working in, but hopefully after I return from a weekend of “coordination” meetings in Abeche. Working on gender-based violence in this region is a whole new ballpark than what I’ve previously been doing in the Great Lakes Region, namely as the Darfurian refugees and their Chadian hosts are largely Muslims and practices such as female genital mutilation (FGM) persist widely. I will certainly be expanding on this at a later time.

Security in this region remains tenuous, though Iriba is calm for the time being. Tensions are increasing between the Darfur refugees and the host Chadian communities, which means we must find the delicate balance in our work of assisting the refugees, but not forsaking the local populations who see the humanitarian agencies favoring the refugees when they themselves are living in pretty tough conditions. In an attempt to address this issue, the project I am managing focuses both on the camps and nearby Chadian villages. Chadians, though mostly from the south and capital, are benefiting from the new NGO job market in the east as well, though naturally this isn’t necessarily sustainable. Actually, some NGOs were attacked by local Iriba Chadians in protest to the hiring of staff from N’djamena (though it’s the folks in N’djamena who are educated and experienced).

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

You are incredible! Stay Safe! Love GRAM

9:39 PM  

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