The Struggle is Real...

I had a wonderful discussion with a 2 year SM named Bronwin.  She, like me, came to Bere hoping to work in the hospital.  The first 6 months all she did was construction for the nutrition center. The nutrition center is WAY in the bush. She was practically alone, approximately four kilometers from the hospital.  

As if being alone wasn't enough, her house family wasn't the best. They never fed Bronwin even though she paid them to cook for her.  They used the money for themselves and left her to fend for herself. 

There are a numerous amount of stories she told me, both good and bad. In my opinion the bad seemed to out weigh the good. Of course I wasn't there experiencing it with her. She firmly believes that coming to Tchad was the best experience.  She wouldn't change it for the world.  

Bronwin emphasized how not being able to work in the hospital was the greatest blessing of all.  Most doctors get five minutes tops with each patient.  How are you suppose to evangelize to them in such a short time.  It is possible, but very hard because you can't form a relationship with them.  Bronwin was able to form lasting relationships. She has become a Tchadian, instead of a nasara. (Reminder...nasara means foreigner in a derrogitory way).

That definitely gave me hope. I can be of use wherever I go.  I just need to change my outlook on this trip. I accepted the facts. I was ready to do the work God intended for me.  The devil probably realize my change of heart and started attacking me more.  

I have had an extreme allergic reaction to.....I don't know what.  At first, I only had hives on the back of my elbows and knees. These hives were the worst hives I have had in my life. (The bumps were twice the usual size...everything is bigger in Tchad right?) I have eczema in those areas, so I was already itchy.  The hives just made the itchiness unbearable. My first layer of skin was easily scathed and peeled away as I scratched.  

By day three of my allergic reaction the hives had spread. They were now all over my arms, on most parts of my legs, and my face.  My eyes were like jumbo sized chocolate covered marshmallows, very puffy and abnormally big. And they burned!! I wanted to rip my eyes out!!

In addition to my hives problem, I have something on my scalp.  At first, I thought my eczema had gotten bad and spread to my scalp, but boy was I wrong.  On day two of insufferable itching I realized that there were big bumps on my head. They were very painful to touch.  Not only was it imediate pain, I also got pressure headaches. I tried so hard not to touch my head. I didn't want anymore headaches, but I really wanted to scratch my head!! I was between a rock and a hard place. 

Things got even worse by day five of the scalp problem. The bumps started oozing. The secretions would build up and plaster my hair to my scalp. No matter how much I washed my hair it smelled disgusting. (It was like someone had taken out their weave they had for 3 months and never properly washed it....thats how I smelt EVERYDAY!!!). I found out that Dr. Bland and his wife had a similar scalp problem, but never found the cause.  The only difference was that my bumps hurt and theirs didn't.

Long story short, I have been itchy for the past week and haven't found the cause.  I have lost the pigmentation on many parts of my body. I wake up in the middle of the night in pain from my dry, cracked, bloody skin.  I am almost to the end of my rope, but I'm hanging on tight. 

I stopped taking my malaria pills, hoping that is what I am reacting too... Please pray long and hard for me.  I want the itching to stop, but I don't want to get malaria either.  There are a few alternative optioons out there....we will see what happens.

Night of Fright

We tried to have vespers in the pavilion last night, and things were looking very official. Jamie and Tammy dotted every "i" and crossed every "t".  All the chairs were placed in a circle, and they brought out 2 guitars and a ukulele for song service. The screen and projector were set up as well. The plan was to sing then watch a numa video.

We began vespers with prayer, and passed out the delicious snacks.  Somehow I was deemed the leader of song service, but it didn't bother me. (Let's be real, I hate being in the lime light. God had calmed my nerves). I chose and lead four songs then sat back to watch the video. 

To bad we weren't able to finish the movie. A heavy wind swept through the compound and knocked the screen over.  We tried everything to keep the screen from falling, but nothing worked. It was like a sail caught in the wind. The approaching storm hindered the service.  

We decided to stay and talk with each other, refusing to be stopped by the storm.  The wind tore violently through the pavillion as the temperature plummeted.  Lightening lit the sky and dark clouds pronounced our pending doom. (Too dramatic?) In the end we dispersed, trying to beat the rain.  

As usual, Josh walked me to my hut. (My hut is on the way to his house and I can't walk by myself after dark). It was pitch black. The moon wasn't out, and the storm clouds hid the stars. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't see further then an arms length away. All we could do was light the path we walked and pray for the best. 

We made it to my house safely. Josh began running so he could beat the rain and I turned towards my compound. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shadow headed straight for me!! I scared myself even more by screaming so loud. (Let's be real, if I was able to see whatever was running towards me then it was way to close!!) I didn't even have time to run.  I braced myself as the shadow lunged towards me.  

Instead of pain I felt something wet on my leg.  Opening my eyes, I realized my attacker was a dog. Not my host family's dog, but a friendly dog. (My family dog usually barks at me because I return to my hut after dark). My heart was racing as sweet relief flooded my viens.  

My house family was sleeping outside and quickly responded to my scream. They ran over to see what had happened.  I was so embarrassed. I just smiled at them and tried to play it off. Smiling I waved to them and asked how they were doing.  I continued to walk to my hut avoiding their questioning looks.  I continued attempting to calm my nerves as I unlocked my door. I entered my hut and, being a creature of habit, I turned to open the window. (I always sleep with the window and door open to cool my room).

I don't know how I contained my scream. Sitting next to my window was a spider the size of a softball. (It had bright yellow and brown strips.....DISGUSTING!!).  Praise God I slightly broke routine. I enter the door opposite of the window. I would have walked straight into the spider's web if I entered the door on the window side.

In all honesty I was so shaken up I ran right out of my hut. I lost my last shred of dignity. I sprinted straight to my house dad, quietly yelling in english. (I had enough control not to wake the kids). I either forgot or didn't care that he didn't speak english.  I just wanted him to kill the spider. 

I don't think I got the right message across. He sprinted to my hut ready to kill every monster in my  closet. He definitely laughed when he saw the spider.  I thought I was doing well with all the bugs and random animals in Tchad, but I was wrong.  I could live in harmony with the small insects and precarious creatures, but nothing else. Anything that has a body bigger then its legs (or looked poisonous) makes me itch. I now understand what Daniel feels every night he sleeps in his hut. 

Smelly Stories

Tchad always keeps me on my toes. There is always a new sight, smell, or feeling I realize. Typically, I write about the things I have seen and occasionally spice it with my feelings. Let's be real, even if I was an amazing writer, you wouldn't be able to fully comprehend what we have (and will) experienced in Tchad.  But, in an attempt to "culture" my audience I have decided to write about the new fragrances I have come across. There are two, somewhat funny, stories I want to write about.  The first story took place in my hut.  

It was raining as I walked home that night.  Everything was...a little on the wet side. I did the best I could to rinse the mud off my feet before entering my hut. Continuing my usual routine, I opened the window and prepared for bed.  

I had left my phone on the floor, and turned to grab it. There was a clump of mud laying a couple centimeters from my phone. I was a little frosty because I thought I had carefully rinsed the dirt off. Apparently, I tracked mud into my hut.   

I knelt to pick up as much mud as possible trying to keep my hut clean. BIG MISTAKE!! The mound of dirt was actually poop. I don't know where it came from, how it got there...and I rather not know.  Ignorance is bliss right?!

I was choking on the pungent smell the feces emitted. It smelt like melted M&M that were smashed and mixed with rotten tomatoes and diarrhea. The poop was warm and the fumes clung to my skin. No matter how hard (or long) I scrubbed my hand, I couldn't rid myself of the smell. 

To make matters worse the smell dispersed around the room. I was being suffocated by poop! There was another pellet under my bed, but I refused to interupt it's slumber.  I didn't need another whiff of the stuff. I gave up and crawled into bed. There was nothing more I could do. (The pellet of poop is still under my bed...I refuse to touch it lol)

The second incident was more of an epiphany. As I stated before, I am a creature of habit. I always sit in the same seat at the SM hut. After a week of sitting there I realized that something smelled very Tchadian. (Most Tchadian's don't wear deodorant. Just think of your body odor and times that by 1000. That is how intense the smell is on a good day...but you grow accustom to the smell).  

Most days I would sit in my chair trying to sniff out the source. Let's be real, I always checked to see if I was the source first. Then I would start looking around my seat.  It wasn't an overpowering smell, just a light whiff once and a while.  I was so frustrated because I couldn't find the source! Don't worry I eventually found the source - unlike last time. 

We have clothes lines in the SM hut to hang our towels. They hang over every seat in the hut. Although we showered most of our must away, we were still a little ripe.  Our towels collected the rest of our BO, slowly emitting it right over our head. The hospital staff did warn us we would start smelling like the locals. Now I understand what they meant.

First Official Week of Work

Pastor Rich was right. I packed scrubs and medical supplies, prepared to work in the hospital. Instead, I'm doing data entry. I'm use to doing data entry; I've had various desk jobs since high school. That's not a problem. The problem is that I CAN do the same thing in America. 

I was asked to teach a few classes on first aid/EMT basic, anatomy & physiology, and exclusive breastfeeding. That would be amazing. Anything new and different I would readily welcome.  However, I feel I have been tricked.  After all the action packed surprises during my trip to Bere, Tchad seems to be pretty boring.  (At least my current situation is really boring).  

Zach and Charis have emphasized that they want at least 8  hours of work from us - just like in America. Not a problem, but please give me something to do.  They have tried to assign data input tasks, have us study french, and even teach a healthy cooking class.  Nothing keeps us busy.  

It is common knowledge that I like to keep busy.  I hate feeling like I am wasting time.  So...this is what Daniel, Josh, and I have accomplished in our free time. I have complete 2 chapters in my MCAT study book. I taught one of the Bere boys how to complete a Rubik's cube, and I have finished a full season of Suits. Daniel has finished 2 (almost 3) seasons of Suits, killed every bug that crossed his path, and is on level 37 in Bejewel (he doesn't even like that game, but it is the only phone game he has). Josh has accomplished the most. He has watched 5 movies, a season of Suits with me, and he beat every level in Bejewel.  (He was crowned the king of Jewels haha). At this rate we will make an impact on the bench we sit on instead of the world.  

On a happier note, we started meeting with the traditional birth attendants (TBAs) and the community health workers (CWAs). Granted we mostly sat quietly and listen, but at least we were able to help a little bit. We helped them practice taking blood pressure and temperature.  They don't have fancy machines to do it for them, so we have to make sure they understand the concept behind every little thing we teach them.  They always have a lot of questions.  

As I made my rounds,  ensuring everyone had practiced, I was stopped by a man.  He asked if I would be willing to be his "patient," while he practiced. Of course I said yes and took a seat.  

Once he finished taking my BP, he practiced his english skills.  He took a seat next to me and began asking about the paracord bracelet I was wearing. He wanted to know where I got it and if I had one for him.  I answered his questions politely then tried to go finish my rounds.  That's when I realized I was trapped. 

It turns out that I was talking to "Monsieur Casanova." He was a lover of women, and an American would be a wonderful addition to his collection.  He continued to flirt with me, finding any reason to touch me.  To make matters worse, his english wasn't that great. Half the time I didn't even know what he was saying.  

I called out to one of the translators, Freddie,  for help.  That flopped.  It turns out that they were friends.  Freddie was his english teacher. Monsier Casanova told Freddie something and he walked off laughing. 

Apparently, Monsieur Casanova was politely showing interest in Tchadian culture.  Men can do almost anything to women because they are the superior species. Freddie understood what was happening, and didn't try to stop Monsieur Casanova because it was a honor he was paying me heed.  However, I was technically Casanova's teacher. That means I am on a higher pedestal then him.  Monsieur Casanova shouldn't have been treating me the way he was. To bad they view me as a woman, not a teacher.  Trust and believe I will fight for the correct title.

My First Sabbath

My allergies were so bad last night.  I was sneezing, I had trouble breathing, and could not sleep. In the end I only got 3 hours of sleep. It was such a struggle to get through the rest of the day.  

We went to the english sabbath school, which was lead by one of the doctors. I was a bobble head the whole time; I could not keep my eyes open. I did a little better during church because there were so many new experiences. Their choir would dance as the congregation sang and sometimes we would have to stand.  Moving kept me awake.

I stayed awake for the sermon because it was infuriating. The elder was preaching about the role of a women "based on the Bible," while one of the Bere boys translated for us.The sermon started with a surprise. The elder proclaimed that both men and women are equal. The Tchadian culture views men as superior to women, so this was unusual. If he continued on that track it would have been a decent sermon. Too bad he didn't.

The elder said that women are only equal on international women's day, once a year. Then he transition to how women should be for the other 364 days of the year.  Quoting Bible verses about women like 1 Timothy 2:11 out of context, he spoke of how a women should be submissive. To make it worse some of the Bere boys were saying amen! (Just in case I never explained who the Bere boys are, they are boys who were "adopted" into the hospital. They are always on the compound helping us out , eating with us, etc. They are awsome people. Most of the boys have parents, but their living conditions aren't the best. That is why Tammy and Jaime - one of the hospital couples - took them in.)

After the sermon, we sat the Bere boys down and asked them if they really believed what the pastor said. For the most part all of them believed what he said.  Many of them said that they would never beat their wife, which is amazing for a Tchadian to say. We showed them the Bible verses in context trying to explain why we were upset, but they didn't understand or didn't concede. It was very sad.

All of the Bere staff only have one wife and don't beat their wife because of fear.  It all goes back to fear. Bere Hospital is an Adventist institution, therefore, we have to be a light unto the world.  If the Tchadians want to follow a different lifestyle they will be terminated.  There is no other way of upholding the SDA values and working with the Tchadians.

After church I took an hour nap then went to potluck.  The food was really good.  Everyone says that potluck is one of the few times we can eat American food. Yet another reason to look forward to Sabbath. The only other tradition for Sabbath is putting on satellite Sabbath school. This Sabbath School is call the naked Sabbath school for good reason. 

There is a quartier (it is loosely translated as a small district) 2 kilomiters away from the hospital.  Most of the children who come to this Sabbath school are naked. It seemed like the younger they were, the less clothing they had.  They sang song in French, and one of the Bere boys, Tamdiga, taught the lesson.  

It was explained to me that the way to reach the adults is through the children. The more noise they hear coming from the Sabbath school, the more people come. The prayer is that enough people will come to Sabbath school to warrant building a church. 

There seems to be a trend in Tchad - it more like a game called "let's freak out the SMs." We were trying to play capture the flag in the dark. We were all bored and wanted to do something fun on the compound.  Zach, the assistant project coordinator, walked in and was about to drop a load in the bathroom before the game. I had to pee, so I asked to go first. 

As soon as I walked out the bathroom I saw Zach kneeling on the floor. Someone was yelling, "someone run and get a doctor," so I ran and grabbed everyone I could find. By the time we made it back to the SM hut Zach was in the bathroom with the major case of diarrhea.

Apparently, while I was using the bathroom Zach was talking to the rest of the SMs.  They said he still had a smile on his face as he crumple to the floor.  He was in a daze and unresponsive.  After various quetions and assessments the doctors concluded that it was caused by contaminated food. 

Zach blacked out once more, but was fine.  Thank God we were with him and able to get help quickly. Other then the assistant project coordinators, Zach and Charis, no one else got the runs. They had the same host family cooking for them, so it makes sense. They now have charcoal and are on a close watch. They should be in tip-top shape soon.  

Frustrations of Mission Work...

Although my hut was nice and tidy, the other SMs weren't as lucky. Josh's hut is about a 10 minute walk from my hut and the compound. The first night I had the privilege of seeing where he will live for the next 8 months. His compound was larger then mine because it held two other families. Each family had a minimum of 6 kids and animals.  

I was also lucky enough to see where Daniel is living.  His hut is the opposite direction of Josh and I.  He is on the other side of the compound, maybe 20 feet from the wall.  If the wall wasn't there Daniel would be closer to the compound than me, but he has to walk around the wall each day.  Daniel's place shouldn't even be called a compound. There's no fence...or anything to enclose it. There's only a cluster of houses and their animals. There were about 7 children in his host family and they all were adorable.  

Many of you are probably wondering why I am writing about this.  Let's just say each of us had a unique story the next morning. I have already written about my host family, so I will only give highlights about my first night. 

We all met in the SM hut bright and early. Because it was our first day there wasn't to much planned; everyone was allowed to sleep in. Let's be real, everyone knows if I was told I could sleep in they wouldn't see me until 1pm at the earliest.  Tell me why I arrived at 8:30am to find everyone already there. Everyone had bloodshot eyes and some sort of compliant. 

Yes, of course the heat and new surroundings were part of the problem, but there was more to it.  For me, my host family woke up with the sun (5:30 am). I have learned that no one really cares if you are sleeping or not.  As long as you don't interrupt the person by going into the room, you can be as loud as you want. With that mindset, all 9 children were playing, laughing, screaming, and crying right outside my window.  No matter how many times I rolled over the noise wouldn't stop!

The guys wished that was all they could complain about.  Josh's family and hut weren't a problem; it was something much more surprising.  Everyone sleeps with the door open or outside because it is so hot at night.  While Josh was sleeping, a goat walked into his room.  Of course, like any normal person he freaked out.  No one wants to wake up with a goat in his or her face.  

Josh scared the goat out of his hut and blocked the door (He couldn't lock the hut from the inside like I could).  Let's just say the goat was very determined.  For the rest of the night the goat rammed the door with it's head. The door was metal. So not only was there an annoying thump, but it was loud.  Josh was boiling in his oven-like hut and was periodically scared by the goat all night.

Daniel had it the worst.  His hut was falling apart; it didn't even have a floor! (Most huts have cement or termite mud floors. His was just dirt....) To make things worse his house was infested with bugs. There was a colony of cockroaches living in his floor. Daniel hates bugs with a passion, so he definely didn't get sleep.  Thank God he had a tent though. He was able to doze off once and a while because he was quarantined in his tent.  To make things worse a rooster came into his hut and crowed really loud right outside his tent. He had just barely fallen asleep too.

Around midday we bought some Rambo, insect killer, and sprayed the whole bottle into his hut.  We shut the door really tight and waited 10 minutes.  When we opened the hut again to clean all the dead bugs.....OMGness!! They were everywhere!! Daniel was screaming his head off and running in circles. All of the children were laughing at us. The roosters and hens ran into Daniel's room and dined like royalty. Every cockroach was about the size of a Samsung Galaxy in length. DISGUSTING!! 

It didn't stop there. Everyone tried to encourage Daniel to give it another night. All of the bugs were dead now, there shouldn't be anymore complications. He decided to give his hut another try.  The next morning there was another type of insect that replaced the cockroaches.  Everyday there were increasingly exotic insects welcoming Daniel home or saying goodmorning. Needless to say Daniel only goes to his house to sleep now. He rather be anywhere but his hut.  

After hearing the guys story I couldn't even complain anymore.  I felt so bad for them.  They went to talk with the hospital staff praying they could be moved into SM housing. They tried their huts for about a week and things only got worse. That is what the hospital staff like to see. They want to know that we tried to make it work, and both Josh and Daniel did. Things should have changed.

Apparently, the SM housing are only allowed for people who are staying for short term, or have a masters. (Then why call it SM housing?!). They wouldn't allow the guys to move into those houses (although all but two were empty). Next, the guys tried to room together in Josh's hut. A goat is better than bugs. The hospital staff made a big deal about that too!!

It seemed like everyone was so caught up in the politics, and were too afraid to do anything. Maybe the stressors of the previous day were getting to us, but we all started questioning why we came. We came to make a difference, but it seemed like we were purposeless. Everyone seemed to be annoyed with us, but we didn't deserve their cold shoulder.

Marci and Bronwin (a SM who has been in Tchad for almost 2 years) were the only ones who understood our pain. Out of all the hospital staff, they were the only ones who lived in the village.  They tried to explain how everyone jumps to conclusions because of past SMs. It was almost like we had no chance. 

The two grad students, Zach and Charis, had all the perks. They were paid to come, while we were paying to come.  They had the nice SM housing, while we lived in the village. They were close with everyone in the hospital, while we had to face the cold shoulder. (Everyone arrived on the same day, the only differene was our level of education and we haven't seen them use it yet).

Like I said before, this probably seems insignificant and not worth the time, however, everything seems to be piling on.  I feel like I may be able to hang in there a little longer than the guys. However, if they were to leave I would probably follow soon after.  The three of us (Josh, Daniel, and I) have gotten very close in these past couple of day. They became the support system I lacked. If they were to leave I would be left with nothing. I would probably cry for the first time during this trip if they leave.... (Of course not in public and I would never admit to crying)

Pray for us please. Pray that we don't get too discouraged and hang in there.

Living Conditions

Let's be real the living conditions were much better then I imagined.  My mud hut is clean, and there is a SM hut as well.  The SM hut is used for socializing because it isn't allowed elsewhere. (Of course you can hang out outside as well). Men only go into a women's hut to have sex, and vise versa. The only reason mixed company is allowed in the SM hut is because it it on the compound (hospital grounds). 

There are 11 people total in my house family.  I don't know all of there names yet because I don't speak enough french or the local language, Nansurae (I probably slaughtered the spelling), to ask. I'm also too much of a punk.  I know enough to get my intent across, however, I get nervous when I speak in French. All I say is goodmorning, how are you, I'm fine, and thank you to them.

There is the cutiest three year old in my family.  She calls me Shanniecey all the time.  She seems to like me well enough but is also scared of me.  Every morning she would chant my name twenty thousand times and wave to me. Once in a while she will come to me and say "Ca Va?" and shake my hand but she is always nervous when she does it. (Ca va means how are you).

The rest of my host family kids just look at me and smile. They are very polite and seem like wonderful kids, but I can't talk to them.  Every morning for breakfast they give me the seat of honor (a small table and seat by itself) while they sit on a bench and watch me eat.  

Everyone here stares at the nasalas. From my understanding nasala is a derogatory term that means white person of something similar to that.  Horror stories are told to the kids about how the nasalas will come and kill them if they misbehave. That's why many children are scared of us. 

The hospital has been trying to refute that stereotype by their actions but it is very hard.  The only way to get the point across to Tchadians is by yelling and scaring them.  Tchadians tell the hospital staff the just hit the kids, but no one ever does.  The furthest they will go is scare the child into listening. I can tell that everyone hates how they have to yell at times, yet there seems to be no other way to communicate with Tchadians. That is how they are raise; that's all they know. 

Walking around the village seems to be a parade.  Everytime we go out the children chant nasala and follow us to wherever we are headed. We can't walk anywhere without someone screaming nasala. Even when we are driving in the truck the children will run after us, trying to grad the back of the truck. They never listen to us when we tell them to stop.  Experiences like this gave me a small glimsp of what the hospital staff were saying. 

One of the kids grabbed onto the truck and was dragged a bit. We stopped the car not wanting to hurt the child, but more jumped on. We told them to stop and they all let go of the truck.  As soon as we started driving they ran after us again.  It was a game to them. They felt that if they could catch the truck they were faster then the car. Everyone wanted to be known as the fastest person. 

We put the truck into reverse acting like we were going to run them over and the children scattered.  Quickly shifting to drive we sped off.  The kids weren't able to catch the car and we got away. Apparently, stuff like that happens all the time.  Even when nasalas are riding motos. A child my reach out and grab the handle bars of the moto and the driver will have to make a choice. Drag the kid or fall.  Most everyone has Tchadian tattoos (battle scars) from falling; no one wants to hurt the children.  

So Behind

I just wanted to say sorry for being so slow with blogging. There is so much happening, a ton to talk about, and very little time and motivation to write it down.  Everything I have posted so far happen in the first 3 days of my trip.  

I will try and post interesting stories at least once a week, but we will see.  It sounds like I will be doing mostly public health work, which will be hard.  Public heath is a very important job, but you don't have many success stories.  It takes a long time to plan a program, get the grants, and see the progress.  Other then that I can take on smaller projects like teaching gymnastics and visiting people in the village, but nothing hospital related so far. 

I guess we will all see what the Lord has planned for me :).

Getting hitched...

I forgot to write about my first marriage proposals. It was while we were still in N'Djamena and I was trying to buy a sim card for my phone. The place we went to was on the corner of the main road. We were swarmed by Tchadians because white people mean money (well Marci was white...they thought I was African). After getting rid of everyone but the person we needed, we walked under a mango tree to stay cool. 

It was taking forever for them to set up my phone. I really wanted to get out of there because I could feel everyone staring at us. One of the mean started trying to speak to me in French and I nudged Marci for help. They got into a full blown conversation. The only word I understood was femme, which means wife. 

Finally, Marci turned to me and asked if I wanted to have a boyfriend or be married because these guys wouldn't leave us alone. Let's be real, I chose marriage because that meant I was bound for life. Too bad it didn't help.

They didn't believe I was married because I didn't have a ring on. Marci tried to play it off by saying I took it off because I didn't want to lose it. She emphasize how expensive it was to make it more believable. He said something to her and then took a ring off of his finger trying to hand it to me. 

Marci was getting really annoyed by this point. She tried explaining how in America you only have one husband and one wife.  The guy quickly responded that in Tchad you can have up to four wives. He was already married, but wanted to marry me to get a visa.  

He continued to ask for my phone number and others joined in trying to bring home a new wife. The guy finished processing my phone and we took it before he could give the number to anyone.  We quickly paid what was due and left because we couldn't get the men off our backs.  

I now realize I can never travel anywhere alone; not even to the bathroom! I also realized that not knowing the language can be a good thing (sometimes).  From then on I only traveled with the guys. I haven't had an incident like that again...at least for now.

The Bus Ride of a Life Time

After being delayed a day (our taxi driver arrived late making us miss our bus) we finally were on the rode to Bere.  The bus was small and cramped.  There were four seats in each row touching each wall. One middle seat in each row folded up to created an aisle. Everyone was packing in tight, sitting shoulder to shoulder.  

Although the bus was loaded with luggage and all the passengers where inside, we sat at the bus station for an hour. By this point everyone was dripping sweat. All I could do was thank God when we started driving; the wind felt great on my sweaty body.  

The bus ride was suppose to stop once, at the halfway point in Bendele, but we stopped a total of 7 times.  Too bad that didn't happen. The police stopped us 4 different times to check for passports and gave us a really hard time. Because Chad has a tendency of being very corrupt, we would only show the police a copy of our passports. Most officers usually accept it and move on, but not the ones that stopped us. They asked where our real passports where, they wanted to see our yellow immunization card (which they never ask for), and so many other things.  It was horrible. We argued with them and refused to give them bribes. At one point they were telling us to get off the bus and I thought we might get thrown in jail.

Finally, they realized that we were going to stand our ground and they let us go. As we drove off my project coordinator (Marci) said that she has never been stopped for passport checks on the bus before. She has been here two years! All  the doctors at Bere said that it was unusual for us to be stopped so many times. At most they have been stopped once or twice every blue moon. 

Two of the other unplanned stops were so that the bus driver could buy food and pee.  Each stop was about 10 minutes long.  Everytime we stopped mu heart would stop. I figured it was another passport check, but then I realized he was buying something or getting out to do something. It was very annoying.  

The scariest stop of the trip was when the bus slowly rolled to a stop.  The bus driver ran out and banged on the passenger doors.  We opened the doors and then he reach into a compartment under Marci's seat and sparks were flying everywhere.  The bus got very smokie and sparks were flying everywhere. I thought that the battery was about to explode. We had seen a few gutted buses on the side of the rode and didn't want that to happen to us. Especially if we were still in it!! 

The bus driver reacted quickly, but not very wisely. He grabbed a nearby wrench and started hitting the battery with it. Metal on a live battery isn't the best idea. The assistant coordinator, Zach, pointed out that I was the one with the highest certifications. That meant I would have to treat the driver if he got electrocuted. I definitely had a minor panic attack throughout all of this. Praise God the fire was extinguished.

With an hour drive left until we reached Bendele, we didn't know what to do. Everyone got out the bus and sat in the shade while all the Chadian men worked on the battery. Marci explained to us how people in Chad break things the quickest, but make them run for the longest time ever. She continued to tell us how the battery wasn't bolted down. There were only four little wires - that were now singed off - holding the battery in place. 

To be honest I had no hope at this point. After waiting for an hour, I asked how long of a walk it would be to Bendele and should we start walking.  Not even a minute later I hear the engine start!! They fixed the battery with a sandal! It was incredible! I was still very nervous but we made it to Bendele in one piece. It took another hour and a half for the driver to buy a new battery and replace it. But let's be real, it was worth the wait. 

The second half of the trip went very smoothly (other than the bus driver weaving through humongous potholes at 90 mph or not seeing a speed bump sending us flying through the air). There were also many funny moments. We arrived in Kelo, our final destination on the bus, in good spirits. We were suppose to take motos (motorcycles) into Bere but it was to dangerpus. It started pouring rain while we were on the bus, and the water filled the potholes and the rivers flooded.

As soon as we stepped out of the bus these guys stopped us and told us to get into their car; they wanted to take us to Bere. He kick some women out of the back seat of his car and ushered us in. They weren't happy about being kicked out, but we were doctors and had priority. The truck was dimantled both inside and out! There was no steering wheel and the battery was out. We had to wait another hour in a hot, steamy car.

Finally, everything was working, we got a steering wheel, and headed out. They packed the truck with luggage and people; it was the highest I had ever seen a car packed.  There were 22 people in the trunk and roof of the truck; everyone was sitting on top of luggage. There were 8 people inside the truck.  

Even the ride to Bere was terrifying. The truck almost tipped many times and got stuck in the mud once. 2 of the SM were on the roof of the truck. They were sitting on the side the truck always seemed to lean on. I was inside, but the door didn't close all the way, so I felt like all of us would fall out into the mud.

Nothing bad happened, but it was a heart wrenching experience.  We left at sunrise and didn't arrive until sundown.  A 9 hour trip turned into a 12 hour bonding experience.  By the time we made it to Bere the doctors thought we had known each other for years. Josh and Daniel became my really good friends in a span of two days. I honestly don't think I would still be in Chad if they weren't there for moral support. 

Expectations vs. Reality

Surprisingly, there were no tears as I said bye to my mother and boarded the plane.  The first stretch of my flight went pretty well.  I had the window seat and was able to look out and say bye to America. I was also able to see wonderful sight of Paris as I landed that morning. I stayed up the whole flight. Eight long hours watching movies and drinking water.

The eight hour layover was brutal because I stayed awake during the whole flight. I was exhausted. It was my goal to combat jet lag, and if i was jet lag I didn't want it to last for more then a day. Therefore, I was trying to force myself to follow Chad's timezone. 

As many of you have guessed, yes my idea failed miserably. The layover was too long and too boring. I couldn't live like a bobble head for the whole 8 hours. Luckily I was able to pass the first hour by getting lost. The airport in Paris was designed very nicely; however, how they functioned and the placement of security check points and whatever else were a nightmare!! 

The screens showing connecting flights didn't even have my flight on there, so I was looking around like a lot puppy for 5 minutes.  With no direction from the departure screen I had to make the difficult choice - take the path to the left or the right. Both doors said no U-turns allowed. I'm not going to lie, I did tear up a bit out of frustration and exhaustion, but eventually I manned up and decided to go to the left. 

Behind that door were screening stations that looked like our TSA security check point.  This wasn't a relief because my ticket wasn't a true boarding pass.  I was suppose to head straight to the gate to get it.  

No one knew what to do with me. I probably walked a mile trying to find where I needed to be.  Finally, I made it to the station that dealt with many problems like mine.  I was sent to the information desk where I had to wait a hour in line for them to print out my boarding pass. After that, I was able to go through the screening fairly quickly.

My second flight was very interesting. Everyone was trying to talk to me in french.  I got so nervous I forgot the little french I knew.  I just stood there and looked at them blankly, sometimes choking out an um or two.  

By the time I made it to my seat I was tired and embarrassed.  I just wanted to sleep! Unlike last time, my neighbor tried to talk to me...IN FRENCH!! I just said, "I speak english," smiled, and turned away. Case closed...or so I thought. He continued to speak to me in broken english.

I was annoyed at first, but then I realized how much of a blessing he was. Praise God he didn't talk to me the whole time.  I got some rest, and I received the help needed when I didn't understand the french in/on anything.  

Another blessing on that flight came from an American. As I was standing to get off the plane a random guy was reading my departure papers I was holding.  He even calculated how old I was from my birthday. Creeper much!!!

Once I realized what he was doing there wasn't much I could do; he already read my whole card. I just continued to talk with him about why I was in Chad and what he was doing there too. He seemed to be a very nice guy.  He warned me about how corrupt  it can be in Chad and what to watch out for.  I'm not going to lie, I felt that the conversation was too short.  He had been in Chad for years and speaking with him a bit more coulld have prepared me for what happened next.

I was in leggings to be comfortable during my flight.  I planned to change into my maxi skirt before going through customs. (I usually have to use the batheroom after a flight anyways). That is one of the many reasons why I was shocked when I got off the plane.

It was blistering hot outside even though it was 9 o'clock at night.  There were soldiers standing with big guns around their bodies and a bus waiting below. Not knowing what to do and where the bus was taking everyone I followed aquaintance's lead.  I got on the bus.  

There were about 100 people in that small little bus; I was being pushed out the not-so-secure door.  I just held on tight and made it to the stop. When I got out there were more guards and a door.  Following the crowd again, I walked inside.  

It was a room no larger than 30 square feet.  There were five lines with signs above them....IN FRENCH!! I just prayed and chose a random line. I couldn't find my friend at that point. By the time I was third in the line this guy turned to me. He asked if I was the other SM. OMGness, I was so excited to meet him (Josh) and another SM (Daniel).  I wasn't my usual shy or awkward self at all.

As the three of us were making it through customs as smoothly as possible, creeper guy from the plane stopped me.  He said, "trust me sweetie, you don't want to go outside without long sleeves on." I freaked out and put on my jacket saying thank you a thousand times. the mosquitoes were horrible!!

After an hour of being pushed and shoved around, the two SMs and I finally got our bags.  I saw the helpful Chadian at the luggage claim and he explained how in Chad they re-screen ALL bags and check your luggage stubs matching it with the luggage before you can leave the airport. It took forever!! I was getting so frosty from being shoved that I started throwing elbows and pushing back.  I showed them that this American isn't going to be walked all over.

Although the other two SMs were guys they looked to me to lead. I seemed to know more about what was going on. That meant, I was in front and in the line of fire. I finally realized the purpose of having so many "punching bags" (these are guy friends that I hit all the time for those of you who don't know).

All in all, we found our ride and stayed in a nice evangelical hotel-like apartment. I was wonderful.  We had beds, a cold shower, and met some of the wonderful staff of Bere Hospital. Out of all the outrageous thoughts running through my head about Chad, I didn't even come close to what I experienced. Although there were many surprises I cannot complain.  The Lord provided me with helpful angels along the way.