Yesterday we went to out to the UNHCR sub office Goz Beida which oversees to camps Djabal and Goz Amer.

• Djabal is home to about 15,500 Refugees
• Goz Amer is home to about 20,000 Refugees

Plus there about 120,000 IDP’s or Internally Displaced Persons

Eastern Chad refugee camp populations

If you’re like me you’re probably asking, what is the difference between a refugee and a IDP? Good question. The difference is a refugee is someone who has crossed the border because of persecution, violence, oppression etc. An IDP is someone who is displaced as a result of the exact same reasons, but they do so within their own country. Now this is one of the many complicated aspects of this region. Because the border just doesn’t really exist between Chad and Sudan. What do I mean? Well If you walk across the 100’s of miles of border between the countries, there is no fence, no line, nothing. Its just like everywhere else in the world, its been carved up with imaginary lines that were drawn between the two countries by people in power many years ago. I always liked the perspective…. that you can’t see any of our man made borders from space. However out in the wilderness there is no border, the villagers live on around, and easily cross over the “Border” all the time. Some of the people even live and Chad and their children technically go to school in Sudan, and vice versa. So as they have all fled from similar conflict some of them are designated refugees and some IDP’s. Refugees get to stay in the camps and basic needs like shelter, food, medicine provided from UNHCR, UNICEF, WFP, and others. The IDP’s are not allowed access to these services because they are technically in their own country and should be able to turn to it for help. As is the case here and in many places, there government is part of the problem or can’t or won’t offer any assistance. One of the shocking elements I learned coming down, here is that in some ways the refugees live better than the IDP’s or even the villagers around them, simple because they have basic food, vaccinations, and shelter needs being met.

So now you have 10’s if not 100’s of thousands of people who are from the same area of conflict, who move into an area of already poor villagers, and begin using local resources, wood, water, land, etc. Some of them become refugees, if when they are interviewed they came from a village in Sudan, some are not allowed in the camps. They instead create makeshift camps outside the refugee camps. And the refugees get taken care of better then most of the surrounding areas.

So imagine you moved your village near a water hole and life is not great but you are getting by as a poor farmer. Then 10o kilometers away the genocide begins and you get 120,000 new neighbors in your backyard, who are beaten, injured, starving and fleeing genocide. Now the water that supported your community, dries up and all the firewood disappears.

Now its not to say as if the refugees have a great life, but it creates its own tension with people in the area. More on the complications in the area in later posts.

As we travel along the road from the landing strip to the camp we pass through the town for Goz Beida. The village is made up of thatched huts and filled with a huge amount of military forces. Everywhere you look there are jeeps filled with soldiers and landed with RPG’s (Rocket Propelled Grenades) hanging loosely off the side. It has a tense feeling to town as this area and just east off here has been the focus off a lot of conflict in the last few months.

We pass through the town in about 15 minutes and pass the now familiar blue and white sign of the UNCHR signaling that we are entering the Refugee Camp of Djabal.

Driving past some huts and enter a complex of long red adobe buildings laid out in a rectangle creating a large dirt square in the middle. Our driver Alpha, is asking someone were the group is, when in the distance we see a group of 25 children following someone in a white shirt. Must be Gabriel.

We drive across the square hop out of the car and are immediately mobbed by throngs of smiling cheery faces. It is exciting and a little overwhelming at the same time. Not sure what to do I begin snapping pictures and giving high fives. Showing them the pictures they squeal and laugh. They get so excited that they begin pushing each other out of the way and its hard to take pictures of one at time. I soon learn my role is crowd control and begin keeping them back and giving them a order of photos. You.. then you next, then you, then you. It sort of works, but kids are kids and they start sticking their hands in front of the camera and putting their faces in front of the camera. It’s fun and easy to get caught up in their excitement as I happily snap pictures for the next 20 minutes.

Gabriel and KT-J begin to make their way over to the school and start to interview a group of teenagers about their education. They move through the class one by one asking them about their experience in school. I listen in amazement at their desire and passion for an education. They all ask for more books, have dreams of becoming scientists, teachers, Doctors, and scientists. They also exhibit a frustration of how they miss their homeland, how much better school was in Darfur, and not understanding why they can’t continue on in school. They humbly ask for anything the US can do to help the situation. This is particularly encouraging and disheartening. Encouraging because they still looks to the US as the leader in the world. Discouraging because they aren’t feeling the impact of that leadership. Which is an incredible opportunity for our community to contribute so little and be able to make such a huge difference in the lives of so many.

Listening to the children toady and from the conversations we have had with Chadians, UNHCR officials, and humanitarian workers has verified a vision that we have had for over a year now. The impact of education in the camps is a critical factor in the improving the present and in the long-term sustainability of these communities. I begin to feel that vision moving from theory to reality. I can see clearly the school being built by the people of the community, children being inspired by the possibility of a complete education, 1000’s of children drinking from the cup of knowledge and becoming the leaders that guide this community into the future. It is no longer a concept, its now tangible, and more importantly possible! I look forward to creating this school with the smiling faces in front of me and all of you back home.

The first day in camps has been as touching and inspiring as I could have ever imagined.

Your grateful for the present moment and excited to do it again tomorrow fellow Global Citizen,
Joshua Tree

G’s Journal—day 8Today was another travel day, and we felt it. We left Goz Beida and Camp Djabal a lot later than I would have wished for, 1:15pm. That made it way too tight for traveling from Abeche to Farchana by car. We flew in to Abeche at about 2pm, with a few errands to run, but I felt the pressure to get out, so that we did not get caught by darkness before reaching our next “home.” We were quick in refueling the car, getting more water, and loading up on some bread, and got out of town by 3pm, which gave us about three hours of light, exactly what it takes to drive to Farchana at a fairly easy pace. We had only driven small distances with Alpha, our driver, so I was not sure how fast we would go out on the open, bumpy roads. It did not take long to see that he was more than OK with stepping on it and staying under control. It was not exactly comfortable in the back of that car. With Jeremiah, Josh, KTJ, and I squeezed in there, it is good that we like each other.It felt good to be in the car, even with breathing of sand, being shaken to the core, and inability to move because of the tightness. It is that feeling that I remember from the first i-ACT, when we drove for days all the way up to Camp Oure Cassoni, right on the border with Darfur. It is euphoric at times, with northern African and French rap playing in the stereo, and the Toyota speeding through the dessert, leaving a big cloud of sand behind.What did not feel good was not being able to stop at Gaga. I was very tempted to tell Alpha to turn left at the Y on the road that would have gotten us there, but my internal voice told me to keep it safe and not risk driving in the dark. We’ll get to see Gaga and little Leila on our way back after Farchana.I’m so much looking forward to going to Farchana. It really does feel like family there. I think about them every day when I’m back in the US, the same way I’m thinking about my own family right now. I feel guilty for being away for so long, especially with Gabo. Three weeks is such a long time in the life of a four year old. With Mimi and Zahara, my mom, brothers and sister I can write, and they have been keeping me company through technology, although I still very much miss them.Paz,g

Day 8

From the sky above, I can barely see the dried up wadi, instead I follow the trees and green shrubs of its watershed and tributaries as we leave Goz Beida heading to Abeche, then off to Gaga and Farchana. We pass a massive flood plain with splinter-like rows of green extending across the plain. The southeastern Chad is much greener but still there is an abundance of sand. Camp Djabal looks more dense then Kounoungo did from our plane, the trees and saplings that line the washing areas, small living quarters and surrounding the camp itself, again, make it look like a village from here.

I want so badly to make it to Gaga and Farchana. Not another day without visiting the camps. Without speaking to the people and holding the hands of small eager children. There is one woman in particular that I will be looking for in Farchana. I have watched her in the videos with both Stacey and Connie. She is one of the Massaleit that bears the three scars in each cheek, a sign of womanhood and experience. Her husband died in Darfur during the attack on her village. She has several small children. In the last two visits that we have made here, we have never remembered to write down her name. If you have seen the cards that we have made with a picture of Mansur, Leila or Fatma, then you know who I am talking about. She is the 4th card that we made, the woman with the orange and white head scarf.

I don’t know why I am drawn to this woman in particular. Farchana is a large camp of almost 20,000 and I am almost positive that her story is similar to many others. Each time I see her picture or watch the videos from i-ACT Dec 2006 and July 2007, I see sadness in her eyes. And I see experience beyond her years. I am intrigued to hear more of her story. To sit with her for hours, to follow her through her daily routine, and help when I can. I know that with only three days in Farchana, many stories to collect, over a 100 canvass tiles to be drawn on by kids (in an orderly manner? Say what?), I know I will not have the time I will want to talk with her.

The bumpy unpaved road brings me back to the present. Squished against one window behind Elfa, our driver, I feel lucky not to be in the middle like Gabriel and Jeremiah. We honk at every corner and at every animal to scoot over on the road. We pass three checkpoints, only one asks for papers – we are fortunate that EVERYONE knows both Elfa and Bouba! At one point we follow a heavily armed tank with an even more heavily armed truck following us. We joke about being literally caught in crossfire as we pass that area where just last month rebel forces and government troops challenged one another. The sun sinks behind the mountains as we pull up the ever familiar blue UNHCR gate. They aren’t expecting us? C’est le vie en TChad!