Living Conditions (2007)

The next few days were a blur of sights and smells as I adjusted to the time zone and my new environment. Finally, sitting precariously on the back of a rickety motorcycle, we commenced the last leg of the trip. Children came out of the woodwork with hands raised in the air to greet us as we sped by. Blank stares and the occasional pronunciation of “Nasara”, their word for white person, also accompanied our arrival in the village.

Béré Adventist Hospital is located a short distance from the town itself. In recent years they have built an enclosure to provide security for the hospital and the adjacent homes. Due to our late arrival, James and Sarah gave me a quick tour of the premises and then whisked me away to the mud dwelling I now call home. With the sun setting, I was introduced to the other American volunteers, Liz and Sonya, before heading to bed.

Here is a brief description of my living conditions. The building itself is made of mud and bricks and is equipped with one door and one window. Along with the roof, these openings are covered by “carefully” fitted sheets of tin. When it rains, a common occurrence now that it is rainy season, I sit and listen to the sound of the raindrops as they fall on the metal roof. It is a comforting and soothing sound that reminds me somehow of Midwestern storms and my childhood. I feel safe from the elements in this structure of sorts.

My bathroom is anywhere and everywhere outside of the hut. Toilet paper is provided in the form of leaves or corn husks found along the ground. To shower, I first draw water from the well using a dilapidated bucket attached to a rotting chord. After pouring the water into a larger green bucket, I then haul it to a circle of bricks with an opening on the side. This enclosure is approximately 4 ½ ft. tall. It is here that I commence to bath, lathering soap onmy body as people pass by on the adjacent path. Some greet me on their way to the fields or the market and others just stop and stare. Little children become distracted from their playing and stop to smile at the pillar of ivory smiling back at them. “Lapia”, I say, and they respond nervously to my greeting.

The house I occupy is part of the extended property belonging to the school master and his family. They live a short distance away in their small compound. There was some confusion following my arrival, resulting in under nourishment for the first few days. The man of the house had left to work his rice field and failed to mention that I would be coming soon to rent from them. Culture demands that if a visitor approaches your home you must greet him warmly with a chair and a bite to eat. However, the school master’s wife had just contracted malaria and the daughters were instructed to only feed me the bare minimum. Intermediaries are essential to resolving conflicts here, so I sent James to explain things before my bones became even more exposed. Once the issue was discussed and the first payment of the month was made, the situation stabilized itself.

My diet consists of rice balls dipped in various slimy sauces, an oatmeal type substance made from millet, beignets and tea for breakfast, a soup made from tomatoes and yams, and the occasional guava. Mango season is still several months away and I am forced to wait in anticipation. The other day I ate an entire fish fried over hot coals, being careful to avoid scales and sharp bones. Cow brain is not entirely rare in these parts. Chunks of mysterious meat appear in the sauces they prepare and I eat without questioning.

While eating or visiting, pigs and chickens migrate through, looking for any semblance of food spilled on the ground or grain left out in the sun. When left to roam the premises, these animals become a great nuisance. In fact, the majority of disputes that occur here in Beré are a result of livestock who wander unchecked through a neighbor’s property. Heated arguments over boundaries ensue when maize is found tampered with or the garden is found trampled. One of the Americans tells me that last night a fight nearly broke out near her home. By the time the daughters of the household got involved, everyone was at the point of exchanging blows. Confused by the shouting and the commotion going on, she asked her “family” what had happened. Turns out someone’s sheep had gotten into their neighbor’s garden and eaten most of their plants.

Arrival (from 2007)

The mixture of tangy body odor and the distinct smell of burning gasoline accompany my short trip from the market to our temporary bungalow. N’Djamenas’s transit system consists of dilapidated vans on the brink of extinction which are then crammed to their limit in order to maximize profit. Sometimes one is obligated to squeeze into a vehicle already occupied by 20 passengers. Taxis present an alternative to cramped limbs but these, of course, are more pricy.

Despite having sworn not to repeat the lengthy trip from Béré to N’Djamena until final departure, I find myself once again in the capital of Tchad. My first experience in N’Djamena was merely three weeks ago when I arrived at the airport looking haggard after having traveled 50 plus hours. Those hours led me through several world capitals and nights of intermittent sleep spent in the air.

In London I disembarked for a day of casual sightseeing and a chance to escape the confines of the airport. The tube carried me to the center of town where I continued by foot past familiar landmarks such as the Big Ben clock tower. This was indeed my last opportunity to experience what Westerners perceive as orderliness and cleanliness before plunging into the heart of Africa.

That night I hopped on a plane for Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where I would make a connecting flight to Tchad. Africa breeds much patience as I quickly discovered after landing in Ethiopia. Delays and unexpected changes in schedule are commonplace and one must accept them without complaint. Nothing comes as a surprise in a land where anything and everything occurs. Ethiopian Airlines had delayed my morning flight to N’Djamena for no apparent reason and had rescheduled it for that night. A Sudanese water management executive explained that occasionally the airlines wait on purpose to see if more tickets will be sold. This African economic strategy is quite prevalent and is practiced frequently.

Accompanied by Chinese oil tycoons, Muslim merchants, doctors from MSF, and a Sudanese businessman, I was whisked through customs and taken to a fancy hotel to await further developments. Strangely enough, the airlines are willing to waste a fortune by housing waylaid passengers in the capital for 12 hours instead of just sending them on their way.

The pouring rain hindered me from exploring the recesses of the city. In the afternoon my gracious Sudanese friend paid for our visit to the national museum. There we observed the remains of Lucy, the supposed missing link between humans and monkeys that was discovered in the early 90’s. To all appearances it is just an abnormal monkey skeleton used to dispel doubts concerning the validity of evolutionist theory.

Tapestries depicting the Ark of the Covenant’s voyage to Ethiopia lined the museum walls. According to legend, the illegitimate son of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba traveled to Jerusalem following his father’s death to claim his inheritance. The ark was taken to its final resting place in Ethiopia.

That night we were shuttled back to the airport where we continued to await our departure. Sitting next to a man clothed in Arab robes, I struck up a conversation that eventually led to a discourse in Chadian politics. In his accented French, Ahmad also told me of his three wives and his recent business trip to Yemen.

After much anticipation I finally took my first step on to Chadian soil. Despite horror stories involving lost baggage relayed to me by the MSF workers, my bags were the first off and I was through customs without a hitch. Outside the gate I was greeted by an American sporting a white turban. As the darkness of night enveloped the scene, he gave me brief instructions on how to take a taxi to where I would be staying. Immediately the young man left to catch his own plane that would lead him back to the States

I explained several times to the driver to take me to a house of lodging across from the Chinese embassy and to dispose of me there. His confidant words and eagerness to earn a few franks betrayed his lack of orientation. Every few blocks we stopped to ask for directions. At one point we were blocked off from the main stretch by a two foot deep ditch. Here the driver tried to convince me to take my bags and follow him into a dark alley where we would be given directions at a Chinese hotel. I refused and adamantly insisted he get back in the vehicle and take me to our destination

Upon arrival, I was greeted by the sleepy eyed doctor and his wife who were awoken by the sound of the motor as we pulled into the compound at 1 AM. Friendly greetings were exchanged as Dr. James Appel proceeded to argue with the cab driver over the fare. The gloves came off and with voices raised and incessant hand gestures we entered into the ring. 1000 franks and 10 minutes later the battle ended and we stepped inside the building to chat before heading to bed.

Visions of New York

Commemorating Ted Kennedy

The magazine cover's image stood out from the riffraff of publications surrounding it. I stooped to inspect the stark black and white photo staring back at me. There stood Ted Kennedy next to his two older brothers, frozen in time and in the history of America's greats. The caption gave away the contents: 1932-2009. One of the most influential people to ever have graced the halls of the Senate had passed away from a brain tumor. Having been preoccupied with the move to New York and the commencement of my graduate degree, I had managed to remain ignorant to America's recent loss. The news suddenly explained the flags at half mast, swaying in the New Jersey summer breeze. Newsweek's Commemorative Issue was a gateway into the life of a political figure I had only heard of in controversial light on evening news circuits. The sorrow of the devastating loss of two older brothers, both of whom died at the hands of assassins within the span of 5 years, hit home as I imagined myself coping with the potential loss of my own two brothers. Years of addiction plagued the career of the last of the Kennedy brothers. Womanizing and booze tended to overshadow the brilliant career of one of our greatest statesmen. Ted Kennedy, despite his struggle with addiction, became one of the most influential senators of our time, playing his part in civil rights legislation, defending healthcare for the impoverished, and finally in recent years, helping pass the No Child Left Behind Bill. He stood for those who too often lack a voice in the political arena: the destitute and underprivileged. His life devotion was that universal health care would eventually become reality. Let us hope that his untiring efforts will not be in vain. The late Ted Kennedy was the embodiment of the human spirit; that every individual must face down the demons of their past and live to create a brighter future for the next generation. Like Kennedy, we struggle through the addiction and depression that plague this present world. However, our legacy, and that of Ted Kennedy, doesn't have to be pinned down to the wrongdoings that each one of us will, or have, inevitably committed. In the face of His Creator, Senator Kennedy will be remembered for his unabashed defense of the downtrodden and not for his untimely mistakes. As I looked at the grainy black and white photographs of a family under the curse of history, and read the compiled articles, I felt a lump in my throat quickly forming. Let us judge a person not by their vices but by their successes. The "Lion of the Senate" will be sorely missed.

Buddha Statue

The sun bore down on us that day as we made the ascent to the large Buddha on the hill. We had stupidly chosen one of the hottest days of the week to go and visit the cultural monument. At the bottom of the hill we passed Zhong Hua's cultural center, an inviting haven that would surely provide us with some cool air and a chance to fill up our water bottles. After spending several hours perusing magazines, we continued our expedition. Past children playing in the fountain and an elderly couple dipping their cracked and tired feet into the cool stream, we made our way to the top. It would be one of our last outings together. Despite the heat and fatigue, we thoroughly enjoyed the day. Here are some pictures from our voyage.

Globalization and the Power of Music

Globalization is an unescapable trend that has come to shape the world as we know it. Through the advancements in technology, nations across the world have become more interconnected than ever before. However, human nature remains the same as it was before the birth of cell phones and the internet. As a platform, technology can be used to bring people together or, as some have decided, to divide us into warring factions in order to spread the seeds of instability. Global companies, in order to ensure a large profit margin, have come to disregard the individual. While a Chinese company adds a toxic substance to milk powder resulting in the death of 100's of babies, US food companies still pump chemicals into our food products with no regard for the effects they have on the body. The economy has been in shambles because of manipulation and greed on the part of businessman we are led to trust. Who will adhere to some sort of moral high ground in the twenty-first century? Despite the bleak prognosis for this dying world, there is still hope that the tools present in the globalization of this planet can be used in a way to spread love and joy as never before. Music has always had the ability to unite people under a common language. Certain songs strike a deep chord within our souls. A group called "Playing for Change" is succeeding in bringing people together through music. As a testament to our need for "the other", a need to have someone by your side in difficult times, a team of documentarians went around the world recording song bites from different countries. Here is the culmination of their work: a song that reminds us of what it means to be human and a part of a global community. Isn't that what globalization is truly about, realizing our dependence on others and embracing those around the world?

Language Acquisition

Her name is Elaine. She's a an intelligent, stimulating, Taiwanese girl who I met while living here in Taiwan. She also has severe muscular dystrophy. Despite the many hardships she has had to endure because of her condition, she personifies the passion that life brings to those who embrace its deep emotions and longings. Two Saturdays ago, I had the privilege of meeting with Elaine to discuss some topics for her upcoming video blogs. What began as a mere attempt to record some interesting footage, quickly turned into hours of conversation and a new-found friendship. With her permission, I have decided to post one of our discussions entitled "Language Acquisition". When she has finished editing the rest of the footage, I will be sure to share with you.