Madjeri

Hello!!

I’m doing pretty well this week. We’ve been staying with host families in a nearby village called Madjeri. It was really scary and intimidating at first, but it really is amazing what a girl can get used to. My dad’s name is Abba Abba, his wife is Fatima, and their baby son is Mordou. On Sunday night, all the host dads (no ladies) came to the compound to meet us and have a coke. Let me tell you, three mats of African men speaking only Arabic is an intimidating sight. We were all terrified all day, but when it came down to it, it was just something we had to do. Like, “God, this is scary, so take a deep breath and do it”. The first night at Abba Abba’s was nuts. Tea is such a big deal here. You sit on a mat together around a wire cookstand and tiny teapot. They seriously put about a cup of sugar in each pot. It’s delicious, but I can feel it eating away at my teeth. So far he’s made me red tea, green tea, coffee and goat’s milk. Anytime you go to someone’s house, it’s, “Chai! Chai!” Tea, Tea!” and you have to stop and sit and drink tea with them. They drink it out of glasses about the size of a large shot glass. It’s fun and delicious, but gets tiresome when you’re trying to go somewhere.

So, that first night, Fatima brought me a big metal platter of rice and mystery meat. To the ladie’s mat! Women and men eat and hang out on separate mats. I don’t know where Abba Abba eats, but it’s sure not with me and the ladies. So anyway, you eat with your hands, which is quite a skill. They’re very big on generosity, so when you stop eating, they say “Eat, Eat! There’s so much left!” So then I say “hallas-Alhumduliah!” – Enough, Praise be to God” But that first night, I sat on a mat in front of my kerosene lamp while hordes of children and men and women came up and greeted me, laughed at my Arabic, talked, sang, laughed at my Arabic, pointed, laughed at my Arabic, etc. I have never felt so – overwhelmed, in a fish bowl, like a celebrity. It was completely exhausting. I pulled out my photo flipbook (Note: pics of family and friends) and they went nuts. They still ask to see it every night. But that night, they flipped through it over and over, while I said “Mom” “Dad” “Brother”. At first, I was cool, but after about 40 minutes of it, I was blinking back tears. It was torturous. “They’re so far away and I’m all alone and I have no idea what anyone is sayingggggggg (sniff),” So I made a sleepy motion with my hands and went to my hut to cry on my mat.

Each night has gotten better though. There are 10 of us out there in “Missouri”, so we try to meet up at someone’s house. This inevitably leads to tea and a dance party. Last night we all walked the 30 minutes to Acra where the other trainees are and had a star gazing party on the banks of the Chari River. It was fun, but I am paying for it with the ring of mosquito bites around my ankles.

I am so proud of myself for how much I have learned at Abba Abba’s. I can understand a few sentences and say things like “I’m going to bed,” “I’m going to Darda” and “I’m going to ____’s house.” Hmm, notice a trend? Anyway, I can count to 10 and know a whole list of greetings. Whenever I’m on the mat with Abba or Fatima (plus the standard 20 children standing around staring), they love to tell me the names for things and then laugh hysterically when I repeat it back. At first, the laughing was kind of hurtful – I felt like they were being mean about it – but then I tried to teach them some English. When they said things back to me, it really did sound funny. So now I kind of enjoy the “what’s that” game.

I’m also learning a TON of French. They reorganized the language classes and I am in the second highest. The top class is learning classical Arabic, so hopefully by the end of training, we’ll get there too. I can’t even start to convey how much stuff I learn each day on the walk home to “Missouri”. I think to myself “Holy cow, I’m so lucky to be here!” (after playing the “what I wish we could eat right now” game with everyone, of course).

The food at Abba Abba’s really isn’t that bad, there’s just NO variety. It’s always rice and meat or ground millet or sorghum and meat. They make the millet or sorghum into this pasty stuff and form it into a bowl shape called “boule.” It’s pretty gross and is the big staple here. I can’t wait to be able to cook for myself.

I still really like the majority of our group. As things get touch, I really am starting to think that maybe we were handpicked. There are a few bad apples, but they’re tolerable. It will be sad when we all split up to our sites, but that’s still a long ways down the road.

I’m still feeling pretty healthy. We don’t get any veggies or fruits, which sucks, God, what I’d give for an apple, so I drown my sorrows in multivitamins and hope for the best. The heat and bugs don’t bother me so much anymore. Another little victory, not going crazy from sweating buckets and swatting endless mysterious critteers.

How to win over a small Chadian village:

1. Go to water pump with host mom, as always. Try to pump water, but do it really jerky and wrong.

2. Keep trying to lift metal bucket of water onto your head until someone lifts it up for you.

3. Carry half full bucket (my mom knows I can’t carry a full one) on head through town.

4. Run into chief, who you’ve never met. Introduce self to him in Arabic, with bucket on head.

5. Return to host family’s compound with bucket on head, waving to the townspeople who are doubled over with laughter.

It’s as simple as that!!

I was kind of dreading this weekend because we have to stay with the host families the whole time. So far it has been really cool. I did some hand clap games with the little girls, impressed the boys with my card shuffling. Then I went to a dance party at my friend Robin’s family’s house. The volunteers who are staying at Darda walked an hour to come to our Madjeri dance party! It’s incredible how the people dance here. Just incredible. I always try my best but inevitably fail miserably.

Okay, now it’s Sunday afternoon. I swear I’m going to send this tomorrow. I went to church with 2 other girls this morning. It was an hour walk down to Darda. On the way there, I saw the most bizarre thing I have seen so far. It’s market day in a nearby town called Mylau, so lots of people were out on their way to the market. We passed a man and lady tying up a large goat – not a smallish or medium goat, but a huge goat. They set him in this big metal bowl and strapped the bowl to their bikes. It was just this tangle of legs and legs and then a big goat head – on a bike! So they finally passed us again in Darda and the goat turned its head and gave this creepy human sounding “Help me!” cry. It was so bizarre!

Church was awesome. It was an Apostolic Church, so as far as I could understand, it was lots of hellfire and brimstone. One guy preached in French and the other translated in the local language, Bornu. I was pretty proud with the number of phrases I could make out (of the French!) It was in a mud building with mud benches and Sunday School type pictures on the wall. They didn’t have a piano, but they did have kids with drums and a big piece of metal. If I go next week, I’ll bring my tape recorder so you can hear the music. It was so cool. We met up with some other volunteers who are living with Darda hosts and one of the Dad’s took us to a funeral. The women were wailing and screaming and the men were sitting silently on a mat. Here, it doesn’t matter if you know the family, you just come and shake their hands and sit for awhile. So sit we did. Then the host Dad showed us around Darda. He made a special effort to point out the towns’ two pet monkeys, who flipped out and kept running to the ends of their chains and jerking back. It was weird and a little cruel. It was a good Sunday morning. I think I will keep going to church here. It kind of fills a hole that otherwise would make me badly homesick.

Now I’m sitting on a mat under a mango tree in our courtyard with my host dad and some neighbor ladies and kids. Me and Abba Abba are relaxing and fanning ourselves. The ladies are chopping up okra into tiny pieces to be dried. Can you believe I’m in Africa?!!

Now the big crowd is arriving, so I will wrap up for sure this time. Miss you and love you all!!

Love, Kate