So I have not blogged in quite some time, I apologize, but my electricity access is somewhat limited. I have just purchased a pay as you go modem which has given me a fair amount of grief, but if I have posted this blog, I have figured the issues out. Since it has been a while and I have experienced much, I am going to break down some of the more notable things I have encountered this first month (in no particular order) My poo (you don’t actually have to read this part, you can skip to the next section if you please) Yup, the kind of bowel movements I have been having here are definitely noteworthy. Since we first touched down, my stomach and bowels have been involved in some of the most ill-humoured civil war my body has ever endured. I had a regular poop one day here… that was it. The rest have been all up and down the shade of grey. Consistency is always a surprise, some days it is pure liquid, other days it’s possibly worse. The smells have been so foreign to me I am not sure they are from my body. The WONDERFUL family I am living with has a western toilet (bucket flush) that I use, and provides me with toilet paper. The only thing is that if there is no TP they have other methods that I am not familiar with so their urgency to keep the bathroom stocked is not as severe as my own western culture. I will let your imagination wonder while you consider the predicaments I have gotten myself into. The rain/weather in general First I must say that I am adjusting to their cool season quite well. I sweat all the time, sitting down, sleeping, always. But everyone sweats so I’m not worried about my sweat stains, and am kind of enjoying it. This is the rainy season (contributing to the cooler climate). The rain is really an event. When it rains it pours. There are sections of the road that won’t dry up between rains that make transportation via vehicle and foot very difficult. I LOVE the clouds here. I don’t know if it’s the pollution that is the real difference, but the weather systems are amazing to watch. The clouds are so defined; a giant thunder cloud will just stand alone in the sky. The best part about these rain clouds is the lightning they produce. Again I don’t know if it’s the climate or air quality, but these clouds produce an incredible light show. The lightning shoots through the middle of the cloud illuminating the entire body, or circle the outside like a pulsing vein. They also have no thunder until they are right on top of you. I have filmed it a few times, people look at me like I’m insane for getting excited about the things they don’t expect. Fish head soup I am very fortunate; I have been blessed with a family that can really cook. We eat tons and a wide verity of vegetables, fruits and meats. But the meat of choice is definitely fish. I don’t think that’s as much a family thing as it is a cultural thing, but we eat a lot of fish. I’ve never really appreciated how many bones are in a fish until now. They often serve the entire fish fried up. It was alarming the first time, but once you understand that everyone eats with their hands (I say hands quite intentionally not fingers, you palm that fish) the meal becomes a lot more manageable. I have also eaten a chicken gizzard (customary welcome for a visitor in the home) which was way tastier than I had expected (not only does it look a little funky for Canadian eyes, it’s TOUGH). There’s a lot more I can say about food, but I will save it for another entry. En Franҫais French has been a really interesting endeavour. I have been attending a class for the last few weeks. I start every day hating the French language; few things anger me as quickly as my own incompetence. But as the day progresses I begin to understand a new and exciting part of the language and leave the class feeling much better about the language and myself. I am just now able to have small conversations with people. Every time I walk away form a conversation in which I’ve actually spoken entirely in French I celebrate on the inside. They are few, but they are very exciting. Poverty I have a lot to say, and am not sure how I want to articulate myself. So I’m just going to ramble and hope it makes sense. I’m sure I will back track later in the year and correct myself, but these are my initial impressions. I have to say that I had some preconceived notions about what poverty looked like, and how I would emotionally respond to it. These were all incorrect. The poverty here is everywhere; I used to look at the world vision commercials with such scepticism. I thought they really had to search to find a child with mud caked into their hair and on their face wearing torn and damaged cloths. One merely has to turn off the main streets and open your eyes. We have had the opportunity to meet a few families that live in these conditions and I will tell you that there is one thing that stands out in all of the poverty I have seen, and it is this. People are happy. They are not any happier than the truly happy families you see at home, but people are not crying in the streets, they do not feel sorry for themselves. (I feel that there are much less functional families at home than here, the emphasis on family and time allotted to joined company has really challenged me (I’ll go into greater depth later))They do not ask me for money even though my very presence declares that I have disposable income I could easily share. Instead they take the opportunity to extend their hospitality and gracious joy. I was struck when we were visiting an orphan and her new family. Their home, as well as half of the homes here (total guess but I’m not nervous to say half when considering the size of the under developed areas) was built our of straw and goat feces bricks. It was a one room home with a very large family. We sat outside on a rug and we were served tea. Initially I was nervous to take the tea, but then realized that what was such a small gesture by North American standards was a much greater sacrifice for this family. They are so generous and joyful about giving it reminds me of how irrelevant the size of the gift is, but with what heart it is given. I have been reading some of Mother Teresa‘s work. She talks a lot about how one should approach poverty and giving. She speaks about the heart of giving, and the eyes through which we should view our neighbours. She speaks a lot about poverty at home, how we should prioritize caring for our family, then our neighbours. I feel kind of dumb that I had to come all the way to Africa to really learn about how we should be more aware of, and active in, the poverty in our cities. CHILDREN The children here are adorable. So cute it kills me. The range of responses to me is quite entertaining. Most of the infants I meet shy away or straight up scream. But most of the young ones are wildly interested in me and will call out “nassara” which is Arabic for white person. From time to time they will follow me for brief stretches of the road. I have even had a group of children follow me off the street into my family’s gated area. I was introduced to a young girl who would not look at me. Her father sternly told her to shake my hand (it is customary to shake everyone’s hand every time you meet. To not do is very disrespectful and personal). She extended her hand and as soon as I reached for it she withdrew hers. She then extended it half way only to withdraw it again. It was like watching my stepfather Rob trying to pick up a hot dish. So funny to watch. There is a young cousin living here named Ari. He speaks Ngambaye (the native language from a large tribe in the southern region of Chad) and is learning a bit of French. I am just learning a bit of French now, so our linguistic overlap is extremely thin. But we get along quite well. He enjoys my facial expressions and I enjoy his laugh (pictures will come). There is also a one year old child named Prince Noel (born Dec 25th) who tries to imitate my beat boxing. This is a perfect moment to explain that I cannot beat box. I understand the basic idea which is far more than these children have seen, so even my meagre imitation is wildly entertaining for them. This includes my juggling, Frisbee, and boom snap clap skills (keeping rhythm with pounding your chest, clapping your hands and snapping your fingers). I have also been called Piqué (not sure how to spell it) who is a defensive player on the Barcelona soccer team. I’ve been told we look alike. I have seen a picture and I think it’s because we’re both white… This is about half of my list of topics, but it’s raining out and I don’t want to get the second half from my room. SO I hope this instalment was satisfactory. Hopefully I will be a bit more consistent with my entries.