At Long Last, the day is here

 Two years ago this month, I was accepted by BMS World Mission to work with them at L’Hôpital de Guinebor II, in Chad. Tomorrow, Monday 21^st May 2012, I start!!!

Some of the friends I've
made along the way

Following two years of pre- overseas service training in Birmingham, a Diploma in Tropical Nursing in Liverpool, an intensive summer French course in Paris and then 8 months of French lessons, as well as lessons in life in the culture and climate of Chad, the day has FINALLY come- I am joining the team at the hospital! While the last 2 years have been ones of preparation, unpacking and repacking, frustrations, excitement and dreaming of what it might be like, tomorrow marks the end of the waiting and the beginning of a new, much anticipated adventure.

Thank you to all of you for your support and encouragement over the past two years and I look forward to sharing with you all that lies ahead… whatever that may be….!  

Some of the nurses I'll be working with
(looking glamorous at a party)

Some patients of the hospital

Holiday under the Chadian Sun

Last week I had the immense pleasure and joy of welcoming my Mum to sunny and increasingly hot Chad. Before coming here, I spent much time trying to convince people that Chad really is the next up and coming tourist attraction so they should really come here to visit. I suppose my Mum is biased as she’s the only one that has fallen for it and arrived with two suitcases stuffed full of goodies and letters!

Having shown her all the top tourist attractions in the city (the main square, the impressive selection of roundabouts, the hospital, my neighbourhood, friends and very excitingly, the newest ‘supermarket’ and patisserie), we headed off to a little hotel not far out of the city for the night. The next morning (after an eventful night of broken air con and scorpions!), we went in search of Elephant Rock,

The track to Elephant Rock

which does what it says on the tin-it’s a rock that looks awfully like an 

elephant! We drove there “en brousse” (through the bush) along a track which quickly descended to a path, and then to an indistinguishable, rough direction towards another bit of space, occasionally interrupted by a camel caravan. This proved to be, as well as being extremely fun (I had the Top Gear theme tune running through my head much of the time!), afforded us with some beautiful sights of Chadian village life; women in bright red scarfs riding donkeys laden with fire wood, women gathered around the scarce wells drawing water, chatting away and children playing in the sand on the outskirts of the occasional village made up of groups of round mud and straw huts.  

Then suddenly, from the seemingly endless flat, a group of rocky looking elephants emerged! I climbed up with my self- appointed guide, a little girl from the nearby village, and took in the view of infinite sand. We learnt after that boats on Lac Chad used to be tied to the elephants trunk. It would be another 45 minute drive by tarmacked road to reach the shores now.

Following all that intense physical activity, the only thing left to do was to spend the rest of the week by a pool, catching up, relaxing and jumping into the cool water to escape the 47C heat. We had a wonderful time together and I can’t thank my Mum enough for her love, support and encouragement.

International Women’s Day.

Le 8 mars… there was an ever increasing rumble of expectation and excitement as the day approached. After many discussions as to what the official material would look like, it suddenly burst onto the scene in vivid pink, yellow, green or blue, complete with flowery statements on the worth and role of women in ‘rebirth’ and ‘progression’. Then followed the flurry of activity as the tailors of N’Djamena rustled up an extraordinary variety of designs. And suddenly, it was upon us. In all its vibrancy and celebration, International Women’s Day had come to Chad and La Place de la Nation, the impressive centre of the city, was to be the location for a grand parade, of which the workers of Hopital de Guinebor II were to be a part.

While this photo (left) would win no prize for artistic skill, I enjoy it because it sums up for me the whole spirit of the day. First and foremost, some of the astonishing fashion statements that were being made; never before have I seen a lady wear, with such pride (or without come to think of it), a head scarf, plus a baseball cap, finished off with a pair of diamanté encrusted sunglasses! The tailors of N’Djamena did themselves proud; in the throng of thousands of women, I did not see 2 identical styles.

The second reason I like this photo is the women in the background. You can’t tell, but they are surrounding a car full of men and refusing to let them through. Amongst good nature cheers and only semi- serious arguments, the car was surrounded and held hostage for a good 10 minutes as it tried to cross the road packed with empowered women, ready to march.

These intrepid men were not the only minority that found themselves in the marching mass. For as we approached the dignitaries, flanked by brass bands, journalists and thousands of spectators, while being directed with curt whistles and the barked orders of 2 officials, whose aim was to install such fear in us that we would not dare to let the presence of long flappy skirts and flip flops inhibit our marching, I looked up and saw a cow too had joined the parade. Draped in the official material, of course!

The day was rounded up over a feast of fish, potatoes, dancing and singing. Amongst all the sights, sounds, activities and antics of the day, it was great to be a part of such a celebration as this with my future colleagues in Chad.

A Little Road Trip

Last Friday, I excitedly set off for my first weekend away from N’Djamena since I arrived in September, to a ‘resort’ for a retreat about 1 hour away. The direction to which were as follow: Go North out of the city, take the left road opposite the Castel Beer sign and then the next left. The chances for getting lost were minimal, what could possibly go wrong?!

With a car load of fellow Nasara’s, 5 hours later we arrived! My car was obviously also very much looking forward to a decent run out of town and in its excitement totally froze- that’s right, the rear wheels decided to stop turning while driving at 60mph! Not good. Thank God there was no one on the road at that precise moment or else the results could have been very different. But I managed to keep the car on the road and we came to a grinding metal, burning rubber filled stop, diagonally right across the middle of the road. The road then refilled with its usual traffic and we were soon surrounded by lots of animated Arabic chatter as various passer-by’s stopped to provide their opinion on what went wrong and after lots of shoving and banging of hammers to release whatever had frozen we were pushed off the road.

Amazingly, in the midst of the chaos I looked up to see the familiar face of my neighbour’s taxi man and he took control of the situation, phoning for the Fifth Emergency Service- i.e. The hospital’s driver and a mechanic. As we waited for our ‘knight in a not so shiny white, not running very well Nissan’, we watched the sun near the horizon, while dreaming of the swimming pool that awaited us and enjoyed the kindness of the chief from a nearby village, who had taken his wife to our hospital just the month before!

When Dogo the hospital drive turned up I could have kissed him! Instead I did a little dance- he laughed as he is used to me, the mechanic however looked slightly scared!!

As the sun set my car was driven away (still grinding and not smelling very healthy) and we were fetched by some other friends for the weekend’s retreat, during which I reflected how well protected and looked after we had all been!

You have to worry when your 'rescue' car looks in as bad shape as the one it's rescuing!

Camels and Christmas... (better late than never!)

From Taxis to another form of Chadian transport… camels! What better way to pass a warm Christmas eve than bouncing along on the back of a camel enjoying the sights of the Chari river from our little trek across N’Djamena’s golf course. Yep, you heard right, camel riding across a golf course! The green was, well not green, and though the welcome sign warned us that golfers took priority, there weren’t many of those either. And so I, along with the Hotchkin family, passed a pleasant hour or so bobbing along, occasionally breaking out into the compulsory “We 3 Kings ..”.

Decorating a twig with tinsel, giving and receiving presents, singing carols and cheesy Christmas songs (I’m dreaming of a white Christmas being a particular favourite), watching the Snow Man and eating roast chicken complete with all the trimmings- stuffing, gravy and even (tinned) Brussel sprouts (which were truly disgusting!) meant that Christmas was passed in a similar, if not warmer way, “just like the ones I used to know”!

However, one of my favourite parts of the day was handing out presents to the children who were inpatients at the hospital over Christmas- the delight and awe that shone from their faces when they realised they could keep the little toy was so humbling and a real pleasure to behold. Of course, there were also the little ones who were just down right terrified of the Nasaras (White People) coming  towards them that no amount of present giving could diminish their screams!

It was a great way to follow up the Oscar winning performance from the hospital staff who, as angels in white lab coats and shepherds in Arab dress, recreated The Nativity, Chadian style, for the inpatients, relatives and villagers of Guinebor. Meanwhile, just behind the action of the birth of Jesus was action of a similar kind; a baby was born!

Taxi STOP

Becoming acquainted with the public transport system of any new city is always a bit of an adventure, and I am pleased to say that it is one that I am very much enjoying here! Each day I leave my flat for my language lessons with a degree of uncertainty, but to a greater degree, curiosity, as to what this next taxi ride will hold. Unmistakeable in bright yellow, the taxis which are obviously a remnant of French colonisation, whizz, swerve, bump, or rattle along their set route linking various points around the city to the Grand Market at the centre of town. A taxi is obtained by standing along the route and casually pointing a finger out at nothing in particular. This discrete action, that requires minimal effort and thus conserving much needed energy to sweat in the heat, is rarely missed by the closest taxi man, who peers expectantly through his cracked window screen for his next customer. Having identified the inconspicuous finger, the taxi man darts across the road, nearby cyclists, motorbikes, pedestrians, dogs retreating hastily from his path, usually just in time. Now the fun begins… how many can you squeeze into one small taxi??!  Unlike England, a taxi is not for one person or group alone, oh no. A taxi is for as many people as you can possibly squeeze in, and then, when the door can’t shut behind you, a twist, shuffle and final shove later, the door clicks shut and off we go. Ten people has been my maximum: 3 adults and 1 child in the front, 4 adults and 2 children in the back. It was a cosy experience and to be fair, many of the taxi men make the effort to ensure their customers are as comfortable as possible by providing a pillow on the handbrake, on which the middle person in the front is expected to sit on, thus allowing 2 front seat passengers.

Conversation in the taxi can range from a muttered greeting alone, to full on debates, laughter and even singing! And this is one of the many reasons why I like the taxis- you never know who your fellow travellers are going to be and quite how they will respond to seeing a ‘Nasara’ (white person) in their taxi rather than the usual 4x4s. And if conversation is limited, there is always the internal décor to peruse- patchwork upholstery, a lack of working dials in the dash board, door handles replaced with twisted wire are common place, and even on occasions, the lack of a floor!! Yet somehow, these decrepit vehicles keep going, even the complete absence of an ignition didn’t stop one taxi, but meant that every time we stopped the driver rummaged around under the steering wheel, before we lurched forward and continued on our way. Come to think of it, that was also the same taxi that made an awful grinding noise every time the driver changed gears and as we rounded a roundabout the back door flew wide open, narrowly missing a nearby motorcyclist. Thankfully on this occasion there were only 3 of us in the back so the lady sitting next to the door did not go flying out with it!

Once you’ve reached your location, you simply give the order, “Taxi STOP”, pay your 20p, uncurl yourself from pile of bodies and go on your way. Easy, entertaining and never the same experience twice… I wonder what adventures my taxi rides tomorrow will bring?

Poor Monsieur Pastèque!

Monsieur Pastèque has to be the most tolerant patient I have ever come across! He laid quietly on his bed while 11 nervous nurses each gave him a intramuscular injection, without uttering a word of complaint! 

Excellent, if a little bruised, patient!

Monsieur Pasteque

This week, saw the 11 nurses who achieved the top marks in the pre interview test, be whittled down further to 5 who will be joining the team at Hopital de Guinebor II over the coming months.  In preparation for this day of interviews, I was charged with drawing 11 bottoms, which seemed to get increasingly round and peachy! Upon these works of art, the interviewees indicated their chosen site for the intended IM injection, because, as obliging as Monsieur Pastèque was, he really didn’t look all that realistic.

I worked with Dr Andrea in the practical assessment and was overall impressed with the nurses and their abilities to address the watermelon, err, I mean Monsieur Pastèque, with some kind of realism and compassion!!

Other than watching the tense nurses every move, my other responsibility was to pour the water for the nurses from a plastic kettle when they wanted to wash their hands, Chad’s ingenious answer to the scarce availability of running water. This was not the only cultural difference I noted today; They get Coke and doughnuts here half way through the interview day!! I don’t remember the NHS ever doing that!!!

So, several doughnuts, one drugged up watermelon and several hours later, five nurses were selected and I look forward to working with them soon(ish).