Today we explored the local market, did some electronics shopping, and toured a local English Library. It was very informative and I feel as if I am getting a much better grasp on the situation in N’Djamena.

To start I found out that I left a fire wire cable for the video camera back in the states. This happens to be the only way we can get the video off the camera (Also the reason you haven’t seen a video from us yet) and into the computer. Which is awesome to say the least. So we venture out into the city in search of a fire wire cable. Ashis arranged for one of his friends to help us locate the cable because apparently Best Buy hasn’t come to this market just yet and everything is spread out in specialty shops. His friends name is Ruben, who was born in Chad but raised in the US and returned about 6 years ago. While in the states he lived in the Midwest and graduated from a University in Wisconsin with a Degree in Business Management.

Since returning has created the first ever Chadian American library and also a community of Chadians who are managing the library. We had the chance to visit the library during one of the English classes in which they were teaching about 10 students. It was great speaking with them and hearing how impactful the program was in the area. At the library they also teach English classes, do service projects, and are cleaning up the community as an grassroots all Chadian organization. In doing so they are bringing education, knowledge, and a sense of pride to an area that is crying out for empowerment. In speaking with them you can sense the effects that are rippling through this community and how it is setting powerful example to other Chadians to do the same.

It is exactly this type of grassroots action, drawing from and simultaneously empowering the local community that everyone of us can do anywhere. Ruben is a shining example how the power of one Global Citizen, being in service to others, creating value and inspiring those around them can change the world. It was great to discover and honor meeting Ruben and his community.

Afterwards we made it to the market and stopped in 4-5 shops, only to find out that firewire cables doesn’t exist in Chad. So will have to rely on the hope that someone at the camps has one we can either borrow or share. However, I know that everything is working out perfectly and it will be great to see how this challenge is solved.

After 3 days in Chad I have to say it is incredibly expensive. I mean like Las Vegas, New York, or Orange County expensive. Only you’re getting 3 world products and services for your Money. Example of some products cost in American Dollars:
Bottled Water: $1-6
Soda: $2
Beer: $4-6
Taxi Ride: $5 and up
Meal at restaurant: $12-25 dollars
Mid-1990’s car that in the US would be considered a hazard: $20,000+

Remember this is going out with people who know N’djamena not just the tourist spots. So for us it’s not all that different, but I keep wondering how do people here afford it? When you consider the average wage here is 20,000 CFA’s or about $40.00 and unemployment is running at over 70%. So doing the math something doesn’t work here So I asked Ashis, he said simply “They don’t, many people eat only once a day”. So the evening was spent talking about and trying to understand why the ruling regime would try and keep the people in poverty and destitution. My thinking was even if you want to take keep the people ignorant and in modern day slavery. Why not just do it like the United States? Just keep them afraid, constantly consuming to fill a void that is created through a quest for materialism that is fostered through a corporate controlled media. (For the record, I love America, believe it is still one of the greatest countries in the world. But I also think that those in power have lead us away from what made us great.) However, Ashis shared a story with us that in 1990 there was military coup. During this coup the rebel leader took over the country of Chad with 11 people, 11? Yes, 11 people. He executed the reigning President, drug him through streets and ate part of his body. Then the same thing happened to him only years later. This was very enlightening to say the least, and a great answer to my previous thinking. So the best we could come up with is when you rule as a military dictator in one of the five poorest countries in the world, keeping the people weak and afraid may be the best tools for from stopping them from revolting. Not very encouraging answers, but we really just created far more questions than solutions.

TIA Baby!

G’s Journal—i-ACT4 Day 2

Am I naïve in wanting to have an impact on how the world (yeah, the big, whole-wide, world) responds to genocide? Writing that question out and saying it “out-loud” in my head, the answer just has to be yes. Am I arrogant enough to believe that I have that kind of power? Believe me, I go through times of fairly intense soul-aches and insecurities. Maybe they do tend to come late at night and when I’m on the beyond-tired side. I’ve been a quiet, and many would say, introverted guy, who would rather read a good Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel that hang out with lots of people. How did I end up here, writing to you, talking on video, wanting to create community between hundreds, or thousands, and wishing for millions on different sides of the planet?

My son, who shares the same nickname with the great writer I mentioned above—Gabo, somehow, at the age of four, completely connected with little Leila, the beautiful refugee girl we met last year. Gabo wants me to bring her home*. He also tells me that, when he grows up, he wants to write, as he always sees me in the computer, and speak on the microphone at Darfur events, “to help the children in Africa,” just as his papi does. I believe him.

As for me, I want to stay naïve. I would want for Gabo to be able to work on helping the children in Africa and other parts of the world to be even happier, not just helping to keep them alive. I’ll give it my best.

Paz,
Gabriel

* I won’t! Don’t worry! I do not work for Zoe’s Arc.

G’s Journal - Day 2

Tonight it was not only the dogs making noise. Earlier this evening, as I was editing Day 2, a series of loud gunshots clapped hard against the dark sky, as if I was hearing them in a small empty room. It must have been five at first. Some more were heard immediately after, and they were coming from very close by. The shots startled me, but, and not trying to sound brave here, no big deal. I have heard shots on many of the nights I’ve been out in Eastern Chad. What was really disturbing, though, was what followed, the screaming and crying of many women. It sounded like in movies, loud and dramatic for the camera, but I’m pretty sure no film crew was out in the dirt streets of Guereda. I am only guessing, but it sounded as if someone had been shot, and the women were reacting in shock and pain.

Only the guards and a French aid worker were at our temporary Guereda home, and KTJ was washing her clothes in the bathroom with the water running, so I stood outside my room, but well inside of the barbed wire wall that surround the UNHCR compound. More shots rang again and then again. But this time they seemed to be coming from so very close. There was no more screaming or crying, though, so the shots lost some of their power. Some minutes after, Hala and Suzanne arrived from their office. They knew that there was some “excitement” out there, but were not in the least affected by it. No one talked about it, even when another solitary shot broke the night, when we were all in their living room watching some old i-ACT material.

Now (as I’m writing this it’s 2:00am), the only sound “breaking the night” is that of mosquitos that are taking turns in dive-bombing attacks on me. They are a lot more dangerous that what is going on outside of the walls. I’m taking my malaria pills, but doctors always tell me that they’re not good against all possible attacks. Besides malaria, there are very few things more annoying than the zzzzzzzing sound of mosquitos right around your ear!

Paz (please!)
g

I am quiet on the ride this morning. I focus more on the landscape than I did yesterday; it is beautiful here. A goat stands tall on its hind legs reaching for food, the lower branches of the tree have been another’s meal. In the distance, I see a few small hills. At their foot, deep red grass zigzags meandering towards the wadi (riverbed) below. The red is close to a color I have seen before in the mountains of the West – Utah, Idaho, Washington, Oregon, Colorado, and Arizona. A dark gold and lighter brown fill the space between the red and dark, almost black, rock reaches to the peak. I can’t seem to take my eyes from the hills. At this moment the ride seems almost smooth as I take it all in.

Today is a school day and I am eager to visit. We approach a math class sitting outside and I recognize one of the girls from our visit yesterday at Fatina’s. She greets me with a smile, “Kadija!” I begin to film, and they all want to see themselves. After a while I look up and notice no one else is around but the kids. I had distracted them from schoolwork and they too had brought me to a different place. I meander through the schoolyard, entering classrooms and attempting to ask students for their names. As I enter one classroom, they stand and sing, belting out the words as if for a concert. I stay with them for a while.

Later in the morning, I am trying to catch up to Gabriel and Suzanne for a meeting with Yakoub and teachers about secondary education. A group of kids are following me; I am smiling and laughing with them. I have to stop. I put my hand out again, as I did 10 minutes earlier. With a shy smile, the young girl hesitantly approaches. She, quick, fakes like she is going to slap my hand, but pulls it away – the universal game of high five! I place my hand out again but pull it away as she moves in. This time I leave it there, she brings her fingertips to rest on mine, then another girl brings hers, then another, then another, they come running and giggling – my hand holds at least ten small hands; it disappears below their arms. We huddle giggling, arms and hands and fingers tangled together. I can’t stop laughing, and for the second time today I feel as if my world belongs only here in this moment.

On the trip back, one of our vehicles in the convoy gets stuck in the sand trying to pass a truck broken down on the “designated” path across the wadi – several men get out to push. Still laughing from commentary about the experience, we pass a large herd of cows. Two playfully knock their foreheads together, sweeping the ground with their chins; another rears, as if saying, “play with me too!” It takes me back to our visit today.

The adults want primary school resources and secondary education, the youth group wants no more broken promises, and the kids want to play. And today I wanted to play. There is never enough time in a day, in a week, in a year or a lifetime to do everything. But we should always make time to play. To smile, giggle, cry and hold those we love. Our brothers, sister, mothers and fathers living here want so many similar things that we desire. And, together we are all stronger.

Holding the Hands of Your Community Here,
KTJ

PS – James or Piper - if you are reading this, can you please send word to Lisa the next time that you see or hear from her. I am thinking of her, Day Dream Farm and the animals in So. Oregon and hope there has been enough heat, water and food this winter. I hope Yachats and the other goats are enjoying their new shelter. A special hello to them from the goats over here!

All i-ACT pictures are on flickr.