A Friday night with canned fruit, planning my liberation

November 11, 2005

Yes, indeed. It is not even 7pm yet and I’ve already re-heated and eaten my overly saturated pasta as I watched a strange bonfire just beyond my back porch. Now it’s dessert time, meaning canned fruit cocktail, and it’s dawned on me that I can and should improve my state of being in Iriba. My problem is that I am physically stranded. What is my obstacle? Manual transmission, again! Yes, I’ve had my few lessons in Uganda, but need a quick tutoring before attempting to go solo on the sand. I could radio to get somebody to come pick me up, but I am ridiculously still too nervous to use it – I don’t need the whole town knowing just how incompetent I am in French. And shouldn’t people just want to come see me without having to say it anyways?

But why should one need to drive when one can walk? Well, I am not supposed to walk at night (and darkness descends by 5pm), though I am admittedly tempted. Where would I even go? Visit another NGO (namely one with a tv or good Scooby snacks) and stop by WFP to check in with the rest of the world on internet. What do I really want to do? Hit the gym, have a nice latte, followed by a spicy Indian dinner complete with naan and a glass of bubbly. Tomorrow, tomorrow.

I did hit the market yesterday. I coerced the new “cook” Anik to go with me to serve as French-Arabic translator, hoping she would ensure I wouldn’t get screwed over, in search of a couverture (blanket). If there is one thing that I so fundamentally love about this continent, it’s the markets! Even in Iriba, the market is quite lovely. I was just put off by the fact that nobody was hounding me to look at their stall or to purchase a pair of pants made for a 12 year-old. In fact, the vendors seemed to care less that I was even perusing their items. When I did find some blankets I was unable to get any impassioned bargaining going – is this AFRICA? No bargaining? I kept prodding Anik to do some bargaining on my behalf but she just shyly giggled, looking down. Clearly she was not going to be helpful. And when the man I bought a blanket from attempted to give me 1000 CFA change when he really owed me 6000, Anik was again of no help. No East African would stand for such injustice! Ok, cultural differences. I must be sensitive and respect. Nonetheless, I will do the markets solo in the future…

News: An NGO’s car was hijacked yesterday en route to Guereda (the other town where I will be working). The “rebels” (nobody seems to know exactly who they are), removed the radios and made off with the car and some people were injured. All cars are to drive in convoys right now. Vehicle later recovered across the border in Sudan...

Going back to the mystery bandits, there are all sorts of rebels running around. I have yet to get my grasp on all the dynamics. There are those who defected from the Chadian army, others running back and forth across the Sudanese border, I believe leftovers from past civil wars, as well as plain “evil doers” (Notice inclusion of a Bushism).