I suppose a week in Abéché that becomes routine, mundane, boring even—especially the week after Bahsir’s indictment that’s had the world talking—is not a bad one.
After much anticipation, preparation, thoughts of what to throw into a backpack in the case of an evacuation, we’re all still here and life is passing as usual: waking up early to the busy morning chatter of the guard’s radios, eating large meals prepared by the compound cook at lunch and dinner, working late hours in the guest house salon, and playing volleyball when time and work allows us.
And, as I habituate to life in Abéché, the news of yet another carjacking is less shocking. Following the holiday, there was another hit. This time it was AFRICARE’s national compound. Six armed men entered (apparently, simply by flashign their guns) and made away with a pick-up truck and the guards! Apparently, driving east towards the border, them bandits dropped the guards off, without harming them, in the middle of nowhere. At least two hours later, the guards made it back to Abéché, at least two hours on foot.
I was meant to travel to Bahai on Monday until the country director advised that he still recommended limited travel. Perhaps the holiday on Monday, Mohammed’s birthday, had something to do with it. I celebrated Mohammed’s birthday by working in the quiet office all day long. National staff took the day off, celebrating in their homes with their families—if they have family here that is. Many national staff have chosen to leave their homes, mostly in the south of the country, for such prestigious jobs with NGOs. These positions are so prestigious that employees in Bahai are willing to forfeit all communication with their families. No cell phone network and no (at least limited) computers available to national staff certainly make communication with difficult.
The delay did allow me a bit of exposure Abéché "night life." Friday night the NGO pilots threw a St. Paddy’s day party in their compound. There was no green beer, but plenty of young, non-Francophone, partying pilots. These guys seem to congregate in emergency, conflict-affected zones to cash in on the lucrative business of transporting humanitarians and UN employees. As with many humanitarians in my business, many of these guys worked in Congo and have moved over here to cash bank for anywhere from a couple months to a year. Also, as with humanitarians, they tend to max out and flee after a year in Abéché.
As many gatherings with expats seem to go, this night revolved around consumption of large bottles of Castel (Cameroonian) and Gala (local Chadian beer), grand stories of travel, and travel plans for R&R to come. Even just after one month, i had forgotten the pleasure of casual socializing—with people other than those with whom I work and live! The evening was cut off as curfew, 8p.m., fell, too quickly. Even if for just a couple hours, a small reminder of "normal" life—as normal as social life can be here—was refreshing.
