N'Djamena, Chad vs. Akron, Ohio

How hot does it get here? I am frequently asked this question, but never able to answer it, so I thought that I would provide the answer right here. Americans think “Africa,” they think “hot.” Of course, this is another familiar stereotype of the Dark Continent, as it isn’t hot everywhere. The highest peak in Africa is Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania and it is ice covered year round (except that with global warming, the volume of the ice cap has been reduced by 80% in the last 100 years and predicted to disappear altogether in maybe 15 years).

However, I am not on top of Kilimanjaro. This is Chad. The northern half of the country lies in the Sahara desert. Fortunately, it isn’t desert here, but N’Djamena is in the area that borders the Sahara, known as the Sahel. We get the winds, and we get the dust storms. And there is no cool sea breeze in this land-locked country in the heart of Africa to give any relief, and so we get plenty of heat too!

Dust storm season is over now, and we are at the peak of the rainy season. However, when the city planners laid out N’Djamena roads, they left out a small detail: drainage. Even with a 4X4 truck, I have to carefully navigate through the city being careful not to be swallowed up by the mud (shift of thought, not all roads are paved!)

Just for kicks, I thought it would be interesting to analyse the weather in Chad, and compare it with my hometown Akron, Ohio. I got onto weather.com, which makes some fantastic graphs showing average daily temperatures and precipitation (in English units even!). And don’t think that I am trying to deceive you here – the graphs are lined up - N’Djamena’s lowest high temperature is 4 degrees higher than Akron’s highest high temperature!)

I also looked up Conakry, Guinea on weather.com to check out the precipitation. I have seen Conakry ranked as one of the ten wettest cities on earth. However, the graph just goes blank after June - October. I think the system is a bit overloaded with a graph that only goes up to 12 inches! According to the BBC website, the average amount of rainfall in August (the wettest month) is a whopping 1298 mm (over 51 inches!). Now that is wet!

OK - now for the weather comparison:

And then, just a few other comparisons in order to respond to some of the FAQ to which I just never know the response! (All stats from Wikipedia).

Location
N’Djamena: 12°06'47" N, 15°02'57" E
Akron: 41°04'23" N, 81°31'04" W

Population
N’Djamena (2005 est.): 721,000 ; Chad (2005 est.): 9,749,000
Akron (2000): 217,014 ; US (2006 est.) 299,102,661

Time Zone:
Difference in time is 6 hours between N'Djamena (UTC+1) and Akron (UTC -5). (5 hours during daylight savings time)

Area:
Chad: 495, 753 square miles (11 times the size of the state of Ohio)
US: 3,718,695 square miles

GDP (per capita):
Chad: $1,519
US: $41,399

From the archives - Fatim story part II

Originally published September 28, 2005.
(I didn't have blogger back then!)

Dear friends,

Six months ago, I wrote to you to tell you the story of a little girl “possessed” by mysterious devils. The last I told many of you was that Fatim (pronounced Fa - teem) would fall to the ground, possessed by a reality that she accepted and that the society reinforced. Me, I was at a complete loss as to how to help Fatim; this was someone who I had known for 7 years, who was honest and a simple joy to be around, and this was difficult.

Since then, I have been unable to write with any real concrete news about her – until today. What makes today different than any other day in the last six months? Let me explain (the long version - sorry, short version not available in e-edition)…

Shortly after I wrote that last letter, Fatim showed significant signs of improvement in her health. She was returning back to normal and after a short time, I could invite her places or over to my house without fearing another possessed “fall.” She was determined to go back to school, and after spring break, she was back in the classroom.

That was in April – I was planning to leave Guinea in just a few months. What could I possibly do for Fatim to leave her in good hands? I couldn’t take her with me. I was planning to be working in Chad, another African country, and I could not take care of her with me working all of the time and traveling from time to time.

“Fatim,” I asked, “What would you think if I sent you to a boarding school – probably not in Guinea, but in Senegal or Mali?” As I mentioned before, the education in Guinea is very poor, and the education level of my family is very poor, so I thought it best to take her out of there and allow her just to come back for a visit during the summers.

Immediately, she responded yes. I picked up the phone and dialed my friend in Dakar, Senegal, with whom Fatim stayed for 6 weeks in the summer of 2004, to see if she knew of any good schools where Fatim could go. To my excitement, not only did she suggest a good school, but Fatim would not have to stay in a boarding school, but could live with her family. This was great news, I thought. But of course, I had to get permission from Fatim’s family, my host family in Guinea.

The following two months or so was a difficult time for me. We flip-flopped back and forth on Fatim’s status. In Guinean society, the only person’s judgment that counts is the father’s, and he told me in front of Fatim that she could go to Senegal to study. Then, suddenly, Fatim changed her mind. She no longer wanted to go. This angered her father.

Even though the father technically had the final say-so, I wouldn’t take action unless Fatim accepted and the family agreed as a whole. The aunts with whom Fatim lived were worried about her sickness. You see, even though I thought that she had been cured, the truth was that she was still having episodes.

At the same time, the father and the aunts were feuding among themselves. This arguments did not stem from this particular episode, but rather from differences between them and it had been going on for several months. I was getting sick of this feud and told Fatim that I felt that they were using her as a soccer ball, using her to score their own goals against the “other team," and certain that the family situation was affecting her ability to speak out and make a decision. By the sisters, the brother was newly married and accused of supporting his in-laws and not his own family. The sisters were accused of being dishonest and out to ruin their brother's name.

This put Fatim into a situation that I never intended to launch a 13-year old into. She was seemingly being torn into two directions by warring factions in the family. Whatever her reasons were for saying that she no longer wanted to go away to study, I had to respect this. But never did I hear any convincing argument as to why she felt she shouldn’t go, so I pushed on.

Now within two weeks of my leaving the country, the first thing I did, at the father’s recommendation, was to call a family meeting. The meeting was at a respected man’s house from the village – his name is Sekou Bembeya, also known as “Diamond Fingers” after his guitar playing ability and his popularity as the guitarist of the national orchestra the Bembeya Jazz. “My father helped this family whenever they had problems, I suppose it is my turn now,” he told me. The second thing that I did was write to the Guinean woman who I call mom and send her money to come immediately to the capital. I hoped that she could help improve relations within the family.

The meeting had two topics of discussion, and first on the list was Fatim. She was not really allowed to give her opinion or speak, but it was decided that she would go. First, though, she would seek treatment in the village for her sickness. The second part of the meeting was related to the fight in the family between brother and sisters. Within one hour, peace agreements had been formulated and the warring parties were found dining at the same table (my table, as a matter of fact). The unfortunate part of the meeting was that the family continued to “kick” Fatim around, and she “fell” into her possessed state.

It is hard to understand (what does one understand in such a different culture), but what prompted her to “fall” during that meeting seems so mean-spirited that I can’t imagine it – or couldn’t until I heard it. You see, Fatim was left fatherless when she was too young to remember. She has adopted her uncle as her father and he is the only father she knows now. During the meeting, the aunt turned to her and said to her “What did my sister say to you? That your father is dead, he is dead and if you want me to, I will go and show you his grave!”

The flip-flop continued the next day, as Fatim told me she still did not want to go. With this, I went to the family – perhaps I asked them to help me talk to her first, I don’t remember. Eventually, I went there and sat down Fatim and her family. I told them that they should find a good school for Fatim – a good public school. I told them that as long as she remained in Guinea, I would not be able to support her education, manage her money, know how she was doing, or anything. I had tried everything by this point and nothing was working, and so I left the decision with the family and said should they change their mind, I was around for another 10 days or so.

The next day, everyone had changed their mind. “Fatim is going to Senegal to study.” I turned to look at Fatim “Yes, it’s true,” she said. I sat stupefied. What had changed since yesterday? I never did figure out the answer, except that putting the ball into their court really worked and maybe I had been trying too hard to control the situation.

In any case, the family made plans to send Fatim to the village for treatment after my departure. The treatment would be supervised by a witchdoctor and would consist of many prayers and sacrifices of goats, sheep, and chickens to chase away the demon. I tried to talk them out of this, but the family believed this the only way. The treatment was scheduled to last one month. This was in June.

Last week, Fatim came back from the village, apparently cured from her illness. With much assistance from a colleague there, she got her ticket and last night, she landed at Dakar’s Yoff International Airport. Tomorrow morning, she will leave with my Senegalese friend Jeanne to a city about 40 miles from the capital, which will be her new home for the next nine months. No tears, she claimed. She is very happy to be where she is now.

I know there are many sappy clichés floating around out there about the “life of a child,” particularly when UNICEF or Save the Children are doing their fundraising. (Can you name other UN organizations or non-governmental organizations? – I think these are among the most well known in the US). There is something attractive about children (more than food, it seems!). Its human nature to want to have an impact on someone’s life; it keeps us “alive” even when we are gone. And children are the most impressionable and absorb so much of what we give them. I have given what I know how to give, and now I continue to pray for the best.

Love,
Aaron

From the archives - Fatim story part I

Originally written March 29, 2005
(before I knew about Blogger!)

Dear friends,

After 6 years in a country – especially one as small and homogenous as Guinea – one would expect to have seen it all. People talk regularly about people transforming themselves into animals, women in the village who “eat” babies in the night, love potion slipped into a man’s milk so that the he cannot conceive of an existence without the woman, body washes against evil spirits, cowry shells that tell one’s fortune, a man who urinated on the Koran and found himself with a 3- foot long member before bursting into flames, and devils that live in the rivers and the bush. However, nothing that I have seen compares to my experience of recent weeks. Anyone with a particular interest in superstition, black magic, or psychological troubles, I suggest that you read this. First, I need to give you a little background.

Many of you know that I have a “little sister” named Fatim. She is about 13 years old (date of birth unknown) and in the fourth grade. Fatim is a member of my Guinean family from my Peace Corps village. Fatim lost her father when she was very young and her mother’s location is still a bit of a mystery to me. Her grandmother often looks to me as her “replacement son” because of the support that I give to her and her granddaughter.

I have known Fatim for about half of her life now. I encouraged the family to enroll her into school and financed the materials she needed (it was about $2) in 1999. On her first day of school, she came to me and told me she was scared and wanted me to accompany her there. During the two years that I was in the village, she lived in the hut next to me and seemed to always leave an impression on visitors that I had. My mother continually asks about Fatim and is always sending her little gifts, which Fatim always appreciates.

When I moved to Conakry two years ago, Fatim was here living with her aunt. Now, my Guinean family is full of problems. The siblings (all older than me) fight. Most are uneducated and unemployed. Little support is given to the mother living in the village. The last trip that I made to the village for the Muslim holiday of the sheep, the family erupted into a huge fight. I found this quite embarrassing (Fatim admitted the same) that this should happen in front of my roommate who came with me to visit “my family.” After this fight, the mother wrote (technically, someone else wrote for her) to me to tell me that her children stole her clothes. This reminds me of when Fatim had all of her clothes stolen here in Conakry, including several items that my mother had sent. And this is the environment that Fatim has grown up in.

Today, Fatim is still living with her aunt and she attends a private school with financial support from me and my mother. Last summer, I bought her a plane ticket to go to Dakar. To explain the difference to an American about the difference between two African cities is very difficult, because for an American who has never been here – well, Africa is Africa. However, there is a huge difference between Dakar, Senegal and Conakry, Guinea. The difference shows itself particularly in my Senegalese family, where the entire family speaks French (and some English) and the girls are educated and employed. Fatim spent six weeks there with a friend of mine – a 30-year old single Senegalese woman who took Fatim under her wing during that time. Fatim also hit the height of puberty during her stay, and she is no longer the little girl that I met several years ago.

With the background finished now, let’s enter into the strange and bizarre world of Guinean superstition…

About 6 weeks ago, I got a phone call that Fatim had “fallen.” During a period of a few hours at school, she ripped up her uniform, bit her teacher, and was restrained by several people of which she remembers nothing. At the school, the teachers bought garlic, honey, and limes to drive away the devils that were responsible for this.

Since then, the number of these types of episodes has increased significantly. Fatim missed a week of school just before her exams. During exam week, she returned to school – but only for 3 days before the family kept her at home because she continues to “fall.” Just two days ago, she “fell” 3 times. She has now missed another 1-1/2 weeks of school since.

When this started, I took Fatim to a very good German doctor in town. The doctor recommended a battery of tests. I didn’t go beyond this initial visit until recently, thinking that it might be something that would go away, something related to growing up. Besides, to me Fatim was normal – I hadn’t yet seen one of her episodes.

Last weekend, I invited Fatim to my place thinking that maybe she would not “fall” in this environment. I was wrong. Just one hour after her arrival, I was organizing chairs on my balcony and Fatim was playing with the jump rope. And then “Boom.” I walk back into the living room, and there she is lying on the floor. “Fatim, wake up,” I say. Her friend Yeray standing nearby chuckles and says “She’s not sleeping.” Each time I touch Fatim, she lets out a muffled scream and her body contorts violently as if trying to escape something. Occasionally, she finds the energy to stand up and take a few steps toward the door before falling once again. A friend of mine places her hands just above Fatim and begins reciting verses of the Koran and once again, Fatim reacts, screaming and twisting. I take a seat near the large closed windows, ready to jump up should she approach them, not wanting to see my little sister fall to her death from 3 stories up. Sure enough, she gets up and tries to open the window, but by now, she has snapped out of it. I ask her later why she approached the window, and she has no recollection of it. She “fell” again the following morning, but not as animated or as long.

This all seems very bizarre to me and every Westerner that I have discussed this with, however to the Guinean, even those who are educated, this is perfectly normal. “It’s devils that do this,” they say. “You are wasting your money to take her to the doctor – that won’t help,” they say. I didn’t listen to them – I took her to the doctor. “You need to send her to the village and get her treatment from the medicine man,” they tell me. After the tests, the doctor looks at me blankly; perhaps she has schistosomiasis, but the results are not clear. “The devil is the same devil that used to follow her father,” Fatim’s aunt explains.

A week after Fatim has taken the medication that the doctor prescribed, I am at Fatim’s house visiting and once again, Fatim “falls.” “She fell three times yesterday,” explains her aunt as she grabs a switch, whipping it through the air around the room as she shouts out insults. Fatim lies on the ground crying out as the swishing sound penetrates the air. “Yesterday I hit the bastard,” she says, “Fatim told me that the devil told her that I hit him good!” She also burns some special incense to chase away the devil. “This is a bad devil,” she says. The aunt takes a handful of medication and splashes some in Fatim’s face as she cries out. “This medicine works the best – we got it here in Conakry. This one, we got from the village. This one, we got from another medicine man and Fatim took it and vomited. This one, we also got in Conakry, but it doesn’t work so well. We know someone who is going to Dakar, and we are going to give him money to seek a reliable remedy.”

After about 30 minutes, Fatim escapes letting out a more human cry with tears in her eyes. Once she recovers and the Fatim that I know returns, I pull her aside so that I can talk with her. I really miss her, because I am used to seeing her every day of the week.

Fatim and I sit alone in the bedroom shared by Fatim, her sister, her two aunts, her cousin, and her uncle’s wife’s sister. She tells me how this devil has been with her for a very long time – she knows him very well. The devil wants to marry her, doesn’t want children, and offered her a ring and a necklace, however she refused this. Sometimes, she likes to flirt with the boys, but the devil really gets angry when this happens and makes her “fall.” Also, touching her on the back of her neck can cause her to “fall.” The devil watches her, sometimes taking the form of a human being. She doesn’t want to fall, but she can’t do anything to control it.

Fatim’s case is not at all unique in this country. Everyone has a story of someone they know who has experienced this sort of “possession.” The good news is that it seems to be almost always curable. Someone should always remain with the person, as some people have been known to wander off into the bush and “wake up” lost. A friend of mine had problems for almost three years before it was cured by a village medicine man – she missed an entire year of school because of the illness. The illness also seems to appear in waves. Sometimes schools have several cases that arrive simultaneously, and this requires a medicine man and the sacrifice of several goats or sheep to drive away the demons. Fatim admitted knowing someone else who “fell” prior to the same symptoms befalling her.

For the past week, I have been baffled by what is at the root of this illness however, after my conversation yesterday with Fatim, it has become clearer. This illness appears to be mental and she is seeing things that are reinforced and supported in this culture. She is not doing this on purpose but unconsciously. Her devil is real and she is in a real fight with her devil. As I listened to her story, I gave her some advice that I hope will help her fight her devil. “Fatim,” I said, “Each time before you eat, before you sleep, when you wake up in the morning – I want you to tell yourself these things. Believe in God and believe that he has a good life for you. God does not want this devil to control your life – this devil is bad. You have a path to follow that you and God together can determine. This devil wants only to wreck your life. You and God together are stronger than this devil and the devil cannot win. You have your education, you have your trip to Senegal this summer, and you have me leaving in just a few months, so you need to cure this illness.”

As I left, I hoped that these words will be the most effective medication yet. This story shows that we as human beings have the ability to create our own reality. Whether you believe in God or not, whether you believe in devils or not, what is important is what you believe and that it will shape your life. We all have devils, I suppose, that we sometimes allow to dominate our lives. For the moment, Fatim believes in the devil that controls her. Until she can believe differently, she is going to remain bound and chained by this demon. The conclusion to this story remains to be seen…

Aaron

PS. I saw Fatim yesterday. For the 36 hours since our conversation, she has not “fallen”.