It's a good internet day! I've finally been able to upload pictures! 

(Hopefully more photos to follow *fingers crossed*)

Here is a typical picture of what it's like driving around N'Djamena. 

Believe it or not, this is a typical load for a bicycle!

This is my neighbourhood, currently flooded from the rainy season. 

This picture was taken outside the front door of a friends house, and our house is just across the pond.

And here's a shot of my courtyard at home :)

The same courtyard from another angle. This is our outdoor kitchen where we do most of the cooking. And yes, that is a turkey running around the kitchen! 

This is the main room of my house - a cozy shared living/dining space.

Yellow Sky Through a Child's Eyes

Throughout our orientation to MCC and to Chad, our country reps tried to prepare us as best they could by sharing stories about their own times of transition. One such story was about the first time they moved their family to Africa – the realization of a long term dream. Upon arrival, however, the reality of the situation was not quite the dream come true they were expecting. They found their front yard littered with broken glass and other dangers for their young children. What exactly where they doing? ...they wondered this aloud to one another, sitting on the front porch on their first day. Then as if on cue, their young daughter burst through the front door with a huge grin on her face and proclaimed, “I… LOVE it here!!” It was just the encouragement they needed, and if you read their current blogs about life in Chad, you’ll find it’s just this spirit of acceptance and joy that makes Chad feel like home for their family today.

It would be dishonest of me to write this reflection as if I have not had my own trying and emotionally exhausting experiences during these first few weeks. I have indeed had several sitting-on-the-front-porch-wondering-what-I'm-doing kinds of moments. But today, I felt my inner child bursting out the front door of my heart to exclaim “I… LOVE it here!” It’s hard to say exactly what inspired this sudden and profound explosion of love for this place. Perhaps it’s the atmosphere in the office where every little accomplishment is worthy of celebration. Perhaps it’s the conversations about things that matter and the sincerity with which I’m being embraced for who I am. Perhaps it’s that every time I see a new area of this crazy city, I’m baffled and intrigued and delighted and curious and aghast at the extraordinary, everyday lives people lead. Perhaps it’s the adventure of every meal, of eating an entire fried fish with my fingers or trying to guess at the seemingly strange ingredients in the sauces from their French names. Perhaps it's the feeling of a cool shower (dfn: fetching a bucket of cold well water and using a small plastic bowl to pour the water over one's self) – pure bliss, even for someone who has always had an aversion to cold water! Perhaps it’s the enormity of realizing (just by stepping around a bend in the road by my house) just how tremendously the torrential rains change the lives of people in Dembe every year and the resilience with which they take the damage and inconvenience in stride. Perhaps it’s the tropical vegetation, colourful lizards that scurry up and down compound walls, or the ever-present heat that envelops you like a familiar blanket everywhere you go...

Or perhaps it’s the yellow sky. 

I was told about the yellow sky when I arrived in N'Djamena, and I wasn't really sure how to imagine it. I imagined a sunset - but a sunset looms over the horizon and casts its rays in a pattern across sky and clouds. This was more like a warm glow that appeared suddenly throughout the whole sky and changed the lighting of the entire courtyard, like someone suddenly adjusted the colour on some grand, celestial set of stage lights. My senses responded instinctively, ready for the next scene to emerge, for the plot to take its turn… but my African family took no notice. In fact, they seemed to be as fascinated with my studying of the sky as I was with the celestial event itself. Within minutes the yellow shifted across the hazy city, adjusting its tone slightly from a greenish to golden palate as it settled in the west, seamlessly shifting once more to fill the sky with a cheerful, red glow as darkness swept in. I've never experienced a sunset quite like it. 

From within our compound walls, you cannot experience much of the great expanse of sky and so I took in the final reddening glow from my bedroom window. It was here that my adult self started reflecting on the response of my inner child. Context: my window stands about two feet from the tall, cinder-block wall of our compound, above which the sky is further obstructed by the pleated metal roof of the neighbour’s home. Essentially I was staring past a rather ugly facade at a small sliver of what seemed to be the most beautiful and mesmerizing performance-art I’d ever seen... This struck me as profound. Our experiences are shaped by what we choose to see, and I was so awestruck by the beauty in that sliver of sky that I hardly minded if this great ugly wall stood in my way. Through the eyes of my inner child, I had hardly noticed its presence at all. Now let me be clear: while I may have a natural bias towards optimism, I am not setting up this metaphor to propose that we should be blind to the uncomfortable situations in life. I know well the importance of observing dangers and dilemmas to build street smarts and gain insight towards creating solutions. But that said, what would happen if we also practiced viewing the world with a bias towards beauty, as though we’d never learned to judge, cast stereotypes or feel entitled? What if we reacted with the boldness and acceptance of a child when confronted with new experiences? With those dirty, uncomfortable, challenging, unnecessary, humbling, unfair, desperate, dysfunctional, underdeveloped realities of our world? Today I wonder if a moment of golden light might just be the strength of heart needed to face these realities, and the hope that may inspire everyday designers like us to make this world a little more beautiful. 

Home sweet home

One week ago I moved into my new home in Dembe market, N'Djamena, and began my work at Ethics Peace and Justice. This first week has been a time of ups and downs and many changes, from the excitement of arriving in my bustling neighbourhood, to food poisoning, to new customs and norms, and trying to get my bearings in a new part of the city (remember, no street addresses or road names to be found! I have a rough, hand-sketched map of key landmarks that I'm adding to all the time). Through it all, my host parents have taken me under their wing as their 7^th child, encouraging me to make myself at home as another sister in the house, teaching me everything (when to take my shoes off or cover my head or close the windows or greet people), and encouraging me that “petit a petit” I will get the hang of life here. My host father wishes that I call him “Papa Tchouadang” and has since introduced me to his friends and congregation as Michelle Tchouadang :) I could not have hoped for a warmer welcome into Chadian life. Four of the family's children are grown up and moved out, but 24 year old Olga and 13 year old Deli are still living at home. There are also many others who come and go from the house and so every day I am meeting more family and friends. Our home is in another walled and gated compound set back from the road. There are other buildings in our compound and I haven't figured out yet who lives there. The walls and all the buildings in our compound are concrete. Entering the house, there is a spacious living/dining area with several couches, a TV (with about 5 French and African channels), a large dining table and a china cabinet. Behind this living area there are three bedrooms (one of which I have to myself), a small indoor kitchen with a gas stove and sink, an outdoor kitchen (for wood and charcoal) where most of the cooking is done, and two western bathrooms with running water, toilet and shower (for which I am extremely grateful). The electricity cuts out often and apparently the water is also cut occasionally, at which point we'll depend on the well in our shared courtyard.


Hopefully I'll be posting pictures soon, but for now I'll try to describe my neighbourhood. In the Dembe area there are a couple of paved main roads, but the side roads throughout the neighbourhood are all dirt... actually right now they're more like swamps. Until the rainy season ends we'll do a lot of driving (even for short distances) in the family's 4x4 to avoid trekking through the mud. When driving through the streets of N'Djamena, nothing is really surprising... or at least the strange and surprising seem to be totally normalized. Over there is a man attaching at least half a dozen chickens to the handlebars of his bike, and there is cart carrying the leaning tower of assorted plastic containers, and up in that tree there is... no, no, not the tree with all the dangling backpacks and handbags for sale, that other tree with the man perched 2 or 3 stories up... is he a city worker? landowner? Either way, he seems to be doing maintenance on that tree in front of his home or shop by hacking away at the branches with an ax, the normal hustle and bustle of street life carrying on below... No problem. This is Chad. All the while the streets are FULL of people walking, women in colourful dresses and head scarves, children running around, people pushing two-wheeled carts full of every imaginable commodity, women in orange construction vests sweeping and shoveling piles of dust off the road, dogs laying by the curb trying to conserve energy, motos, bicycles piled high with cargo, cars, trucks, and the odd donkey cart all dodging in and out of one another's space like masters of some hidden level of Mario Kart! It's crazy; it's overwhelming; it's fun; it's unbelievable; it's home.


Over the past week many people have asked me what differences I see between Chad and Canada, and I've been trying to sort not only what is the most appropriate way to answer that question in the moment, but also how to answer the question in a broader sense for my own reflections. There is so much going on here that I think a lot of the time, you see what you're looking for. It's easy to look at the markets or streets of Dembe and see largely underdevelopment and poverty. Let's face it, as Westerners, it's an easy first impression that we are more or less conditioned to look for in Africa – mud or tin shacks, run-down looking storefronts, lack of electricity, children and people with disabilities begging in the street, trash kneaded thoroughly into every sand pile, and pools of still water breeding mosquitoes and flies and green muck that can't be healthy. This stuff is all here. It's real and it's problematic, and there are times when I haven't the foggiest idea what to make of it, let alone how to feel at home in the midst of it all. However, with a slight change in perspective it might be just as easy to see a very different reality. When we set out with the assumption that we have lots in common, we see a world full of people trying to make life and the world a little bit better, whether in Canada or Chad. With this lens I see ingenuity as people build businesses from limited assets, resilience as people rebuild homes destroyed by heavy rain, communities of people who take time for one another, take pride in their heritage, and dedicate themselves to building the best life possible for themselves and their communities. In all these ways, perhaps life in Chad is not all that different from life back home. We see what we're looking for, and here in N'Djamena I am looking for strength and possibility, and maybe a new feeling of home for this year. Petit a petit.