Gettin Goin: The Life of a Celebrity
(Photo: Some of the family hangin in the 'backyard' of the concession)
There are two rules that stand in my hangar: 1. You may not rip reeds from the walls of the hangar to beat and shoo-off smaller children (both because it ruins the aesthetic appearance of my home and it makes the children cry); 2: You may not stare at me for more than 5 minutes without saying anything. Other than that, pretty much anything and everything goes.
Life in Chad, which from here on out is life in Moussoro, is... well, so-very-good, but also so-very-hard. After my first three weeks at site I have fled to N'Djamena to meet up with 7 other volunteers, and also to breathe. I have taken a few days to reflect on what my life is like and about here, and I offer these thoughts to you all. But keep in mind that my time is just beginning, and these are all most definitely first impressions. While completely legitimate in their own right, they represent the experiences of three weeks of a two year process.
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Most mornings I wake up at about 5:30. That's actually not true. Most mornings I wake up with the first prayer calls that are blasted from the speakers of the mosque down the street at 4, and then again at 4:30, but after both those times I can usually fall back asleep. Its at 5:30 that the morning light starts to come angling through the slats in my door, and the concession starts to hum. I can usually hear one of my sisters filling up buckets of water from the tap in the middle of the concession, another smashing away at a giant limb of a tree with the dullest and poorest excuse for an axe you'll ever see, and all the rest starting to run and fight about. I then lie in bed for an hour and either stare at the ceiling, read my book by headlamp, or reply to text messages I may have received over night. I cherish this time, in my dark room behind a closed door, because once I let it swing open and I step out into the brisk Moussorian morning (seriously, its actually like 'polartec-necessary' cold), I'm stepping out onto the stage. From that point of the early morning until I shut my door again around 8 in the evening, I can feel eyes on me at all times. I'm an over-night celebrity in Moussoro; because I'm the only white dude (my sitemate has decided to return to the States for personal reasons), because I'm American, because I throw a frisbee, because I have the uncanny ability to sit in a chair and stare at a book for hours at a time, because I am very simply 'different'. Well let me tell you why I think being a celebrity in Moussoro is so-very-good but also so-very-hard.
So-very-good: People want to know me. They want to shake my hand, and sit in my hangar, and look through my pictures, and soak up every word I try to tell them about me and my life in the exotic U.S., albeit in broken half-comprehensible french. This part of it is a lot of fun. It's good to feel 'wanted', or at least like people are interested in you. And its an exciting challenge to try to jump over the many obstacles (linguistic, cultural, physical, etc) that separate me from them and to try to explain to them what is was like the time I went skiing at Tucks, or what the chimney on my house at home is for, or why I have a picture of Stegner (my brother's dog) sleeping under his head on his couch IN his home, or what our hangars are like (What?! you don't have hangars?!), or...the list is endless. And this part is great, because its actually one third of my 'mission' as a volunteer here in Chad, to share my good-ol American self and culture with the people of my new community.
Its also so-very-good because I have a seemingly endless supply of helpers (predominantly under the age of 10, although some who are older as well) who love to show me how to find things at the market, how to light my genoun (iron-frame charcoal stove), how to make tea (you'd be amazed how many chadian children it took to accomplish this task the first time), how to... again, the list is seemingly endless. So the exchange is there. They want to know me, and I clearly want to know them or I wouldn't be here, and in that sense really everything is exciting, interesting, and fun; but...
So-very-hard: Like so many things in Chad, celebrity life presents itself as a double edged sword. It wears on you to have questioning eyes following your every move, even if they are absolutely and genuinely sincere and innocent. Children often gather around me when I take a book out to read, and this is by no means 'sit around on a mat and read aloud time'; I'm reading 'Crime and Punishment'. No, they're simply content to watch my eyes move across the page. But it wears on you. And questions, questions are great, but its frustrating for everybody when you don't yet have the linguistic ability to comprehend or answer the questions. Its essentially a daily occurrence that Ali will bring by a couple of his friends from the community, good interesting and interested people that I would like to get to know, and they start asking me questions, and all I can do is stare at them blankly with my mouth in that half open I haven't a clue what your asking me kind of way. And so they ask again, and maybe a third time, and finally I just nod and answer yes even though I haven't a clue what I am agreeing to. Day in and day out, this wears on you too.
And then there are other reasons that life in Moussoro can be so-very-hard. Like the fact that my primary project (my job) and the thing that I have been working up to for the last three months is to teach English to high school students, but all of the high school teachers in Moussoro have been striking since I arrived because they haven't been paid in three months; there is no school. Or the fact that breakfast every morning is rice, and lunch every afternoon is rice with meat gravy, and dinner every evening is boule (a play-doish dough made from millet) with okra sauce. That consistent of a menu will also wear on you. But here I go, this just sounds like I'm complaining, and no one likes that.
What it comes down to, is that my life has changed drastically and I know that I am still in the preliminary stages of adapting. Ways of life that are so new are exciting, but can also be intimidating or overwhelming, and that is what I'm currently dealing with.
Every single day at site I laugh and smile (genuinely), but I also have moments where I feel like the weight of being who I am where I am is going to suffocate me.
I will say that my host family is amazingly helpful, supportive, and fun, and I am infinitely thankful that I wound up living in the concession that I did. Most nights I sit out with all the kids under the Chadian moon and stars (like no sky you have ever seen before), wind up my crank radio, listen to music from the local station, and dance until the little ones fall asleep and the older ones leave to find a house that has a TV. This is probably my favorite time of every day.
My host father (Ali) has called me 4 times in the 3 days I've been gone, each time to see how I'm doing and to wish me a bonne fete.
I think I'm going to be alright.
Happy holidays,
Zach
posted by Zach @ 5:34 AM
