2/14/05

And on the sixth day, there was light, at least in my house. It certainly isn't pretty, with grey wires nailed all over the wall, but as of Saturday, I have electricity, from 6-12 PM each night. The contrast between the mud-brick walls, kerosene lamp, pit latrine, iPod & iBook, and Nokia is more than a little bizarre.

There are a couple schools of thought in Peace Corps about having what are considered luxuries in most of the developing world, like electricity, running water, and other things that we simply take for granted in the industrialized world. On one hand, there are those who say you can't possibly understand what it means to be a Peace Corps Volunteer unless you can take a shower with a teacup-full of water, live in a house made of mud (I've got that one covered), and eat the same thing every day for weeks on end. The other way of looking at it is to say that there's nothing wrong with taking advantage of what's available. I consider myself firmly in the second category- if there's a source of reliable electricity, a cell-phone tower, and a brand-new high school (all true in Gounou-Gaya) I say, why not?

I don't see Peace Corps as a type of penance, something requiring you to deprive yourself of every modern convenience. The fact that I have a very nice house (relatively speaking), part-time electricity, a brand-new bicycle, and a generous income (roughly $300/month, well-off for rural Chad) doesn't make me any less effective. On the contrary, I think it helps. Being able to work on lesson plans using a fluorescent light, as opposed to sweltering next to a kerosene lamp doesn't make me any less of a Volunteer. I also have no doubt that my neighbors would take advantage of these same things if they had the means- it's simple human nature.

I've touched on this briefly in other journals before, but bringing out any piece of First World technology always makes for an interesting explanation. I had a tough time trying to describe my iPod to Ertchey and Livana, smaller than the packs of FINE brand cigarettes that seem to be available in even the tiniest Chadian villages, but holds more music than either of them will likely ever hear in their life. In the end, I told them it was 'like a radio,' although it's light-years removed from the static-filled shortwave radios that most teenagers here tote around. With their crackling single speaker, the SQNNY and PANNYSUNIC battery-powered receivers are nothing like the digital technology that I transferred my entire music collection to before leaving America. By the way, those aren't spelling errors- I think it was best put by Aaron, one of the other Volunteers, when he said that we complain about the cheap plastic Chinese knockoffs we get in the States, but he, for one, never realized that there was an entire other tier of even cheaper Chinese plastic knockoffs, which go to places like Chad.

I know I'm not alone in thinking this way. The majority of the Volunteers in the areas where there is now cell-phone coverage have phones, or access to them; Josh, another Volunteer, recently told me that he wished now he had thought to bring his laptop, since he has electricity four nights a week. The fact is that Chad is developing, albeit very slowly, and if the services are available I see no reason to practice martyrdom.

My phone has proved to be an invaluable tool several times in the past couple months, most notably when I was sick with Giardia (not as bad as it sounds, honestly), but needed our doctor's approval before I could begin taking the medicine I'd been given before leaving N'Djamena. Without a cell-phone I would've needed to send a message via radio, or with one of the (extremely infrequent) taxi-brousse vans that goes to the capital. Either way, the process would've taken several days, valuable time that I would be sick for no reason. With the phone, I simply sent a text message, our doctor called me back within five minutes, and after describing my symptoms, he told me to begin taking the medicine. Simple. Also, my family is able to call me- we've spoken more times in the past few weeks than we did during the almost three months of training.

The reality is that these are small things, as luxuries go. I still live in a mud-brick house, will never have air-conditioning (even when the temperature hits 115º+), and a refrigerator is rapidly becoming a distant memory. For the time being I'm living in one of the least developed places on the planet, considered one of the most difficult (if not the most) Peace Corps posting. Without meaning to sound arrogant, I'd like to think I'm helping where I can, as well as earning plenty of bragging rights; given that, I see no problem with enjoying a few modern comforts, however small they may be.

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