7/23 /05

Being in N'Djamena for any length of time is enough to make me feel both hopeful and discouraged about the future of Chad, often in the space of one city block.

Walking down the dirt road from SIL, the missionary center Peace Corps volunteers usually stay at while we're in town, I remember how appalled I was the first time I went out to buy a semi-cold Coke. Piles of burning trash, goats and sheep scurrying back and forth eating what hasn't already caught on fire, collapsed mud-brick houses, burnt-out car shells, and open, bubbling, black sewers of unimaginable filth– walking around, it's tough to feel optimistic.

I've been in N'Djamena working for almost a month now, on a project for the new trainees coming in soon. As a brief aside, it seems so bizarre, that I've been here almost a year already– getting emails from soon-to-be stagiares with the same sort of questions I remember asking the second-year PCV's this time last year is strange, to say the least. Being in the capital for awhile has been challenging at times, for sure. On one hand it's nice to have things like air-conditioned offices, Internet access, and imported foods; on the other, it makes me realize just how awful this city really is. Any sense of civic pride is completely nonexistent– a perfect example– the Foreign Ministry building is close to the center of town, spitting distance from the Grand Marche. What other country on the planet would do nothing about the trash heaps, dirt roads with Volkswagen-sized ruts, and squadrons of beggars outside the place where foreign dignitaries arrive? Even when the Foreign Minister gets off work, it isn't much better- his house is just down the road from SIL, a dirt road that turns into a lake of thick mud every time it rains. The Foreign Minister, for God's sake! This is the official counterpart of America's Secretary of State, and the city can't be bothered to pave the road outside his house? Photography is banned in N'Djamena, ostensibly for 'national security reasons,' but I can't help but think the real reason is that the government doesn't want people to see the sheer magnitude of their incompetence.

The attitude towards development seems about the same– rather than actually take the necessary steps to improve the lives of people, money is misappropriated, or simply stolen. Teachers haven't been paid in five months, but there was plenty of money to print 500,000 'VOTE YES FOR A HARMONIOUS CHAD' posters in a referendum to extend the president's term, when the result was never in question. When you pre-fill the ballot boxes with 'yes' votes, intimidate potential voters, or simply fail to register entire towns who don't support the MPS party, it's hard to lose. Organizations that come here to help are held at arms length, and hit with exorbitant fees for the simplest things. Case in point– Peace Corps recently received a bill from the Sotel, the phone company, for almost 50 million FCFA (about $100,000), for 'line maintenance' during the five years the program had been evacuated from the country. It really seems at times that this country has no interest in being anything but a black hole in the center of the continent. Another example– the ExxonMobil oil project in the south of the country has four massive natural gas turbines, two of which power the entire oil complex, with the other two sitting idle. ExxonMobil offered to sell electricity from the ones not being used to the government, enough power to literally light up the entire country. The Chadian government turned them down. Their reasoning– they didn't want to take business away from STEE, the state-owned electric utility which charges insane rates, and can't power N'Djamena without daily blackouts. I don't mean to sound overly cynical, but it's situations like this that make me feel like asking, "what's the point of even being here?" In a country where teachers will sell the answers to the university entrance exam to their students because the government can't get its act together enough to pay their salaries, are we doing anything but making ourselves feel good for helping out the less fortunate?

That doesn't mean there aren''t a few glimmers of hope for the future of Chad. Walking down the 'ex-pat strip' of Avenue Charles de Gaulle in the center of town, well-dressed Chadians are everywhere. Inside L'Amandine, the French pastry shop, young Chadian professionals with briefcases at their feet and cellphones attached to the side of their heads sip coffee, or snack on a pain aux raisins. These aren't the Chadian elite, usually cronies of the president, but a middle class who have taken advantage of the limited educational and professional opportunities here. In the Peace Corps office, seeing our computer technician, a young Chadian guy two years older than I am, fixing our server and satellite dish, instead of a foreigner is encouraging. Somehow he managed to acquire those skills, either here or abroad, but the fact that he came home along with others like him bodes well for the future of this country.

As I'm walking down the street towards SIL the other day, the same road where I was so shocked at first, and now makes me feel so despairing for the future of Chad, I run into Valery, an English-speaking Chadian friend of mine. He lives just down the block from SIL, in a house with mud-brick walls and no electricity.

"Can I come by SIL later to ask you about something?" He asks.

"Of course, " I say.

Later that night the guard at SIL's gate lets him in, and we sit down at one of the picnic tables in the cement/tin pavilion that serves as a common area. He pulls out a thick envelope- as I glance at the contents I realize that it's an application for a Fulbright scholarship, which would give him the chance to study for several years in the US.

I'm one of two candidates left in the selection process," he says. "I'd like you to read my personal statement, to see if I've made any mistakes in English."

I look it over, as I'm reading, he says, "This is so important to me. I want to go to America, but then I want to come back, and do what I can to help my country."

Maybe there's reason to hope after all...

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