welcome

SALT 2018-19 group photo

Hello again and welcome to my first international blog post coming straight from N’Djamena, Chad. There’s a lot to catch you up on, so try to stay with me.

Two weeks ago, I arrived at the MCC US offices in Akron, Pennsylvania along with 84 other young people from around the world. The SALTers from the US and Canada and the IVEPers who are now serving in the US and Canada were all in Akron for a week of orientation before starting our year-long terms with MCC. To be completely honest, it felt a lot like summer camp except with information and discussion sessions in the mornings and afternoons instead of hiking and swimming.

Still there were plenty of breaks to play games like uno, spikeball, and balderdash, to sing, dance, talk, nap, journal, and just take some time to think about all the challenges and blessings to come in the year ahead.

Some highlights during this time include:

1. A trip to the MRC where I was instructed to throw donated clothes into a giant baler which crushed the clothes into very dense cubes for shipping and ultimately resale. We worked for two hours and only managed to fill one bale which was approximately four feet cubed. THE BALER JUST KEPT EATING MORE CLOTHES.
2. Cross-cultural learning sessions where IVEPers from West and Central Africa came together with the SALTers going to countries in that region (i.e. Chad and Rwanda) to discuss various cultural differences. We were together during at least two sessions and laughed so hard over some of the questions and answers about personal space, attitudes at work, and different conceptions of time.
3. The end of the week talent show. At the end of the week, we all came together with different performances to put on a talent show. There were dancers, singers, musicians, magicians, and other acts from all over the world and I’m so grateful for people who continue to post pictures and videos on Facebook. (My amazingly sweet roommate Christen and I put on a skit of our own for the talent show and I also helped a few friends in their acts – I danced in one and played my flute in the other.)

 

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NEW WORD ALERT (I learned this from a friend during orientation):

voluntold: verb \vol-un-TOLD\ being told to do something under the guise of being chosen as a volunteer Example: At the retreat this weekend, Sharon voluntold me to lead singing one morning because of my musical background.

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My orientation small group: (front row, left to right) Ashlee, Natascha, Chau Pi; (back row) Enliang, Safiatou, Rachel, Me, Moses

At the end of the week, we said our goodbyes and I was in the first group to leave. It was truly bittersweet to know that we were each heading out to our assignments that we had anticipated for so long, but still must be separated from so many good friends.

genesis

(en) genesis: noun \ˈdʒɛnɪsɪs\ the origin or coming into being of something

(fr) genèse: nom féminin \ʒənɛz\ origine et développement des êtres

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How did this whole “Chad thing” get started?

There is an easy answer to the question of how it is that I ended up sitting here five days out from embarking on the biggest move of my life. Sure, it would take me thirty seconds to describe how I started studying central Africa my freshman year at IU and became fascinated with countries that many people dismiss as basket cases or dead ends. I studied French, I did a few projects, I read a few books until one day I graduated and… Logically, this story finishes itself.

While all those things are true, there’s a little more to it than that.

February 2017, Marseille

As I mentioned before, I did not travel this week except for a trip to Marseille which lasted only a few hours. A French student at my university invited me and a few other international students to accompany her to a presentation she was giving to refugees and migrants who are learning French. We showed up to the community center where the presentation was to be given and found between 20 and 30 eager young men to meet us.

Over the course of the evening, I spoke with all of them: those who had traveled for two months to arrive in Marseille within the last week from Mali, Sudan, and Chad and those who were refugees from Eritrea and Afghanistan. We were given little pictures of daily activities or topics to talk about in small groups. Some of these included the words mer, boulangerie, and États Unis (USA). We went around the circle explaining what we like and don’t like. Someone said they had worked in a boulangerie as a baker. Another person said they liked to swim in the mer during the summer.

We came around to Ali. He said he wanted to visit Miami in les États Unis. He said he is the youngest in his family. He speaks French and also wanted to practice Spanish with me after he spent the last year in Madrid. I thought he was at least 30 years old, until he informed me that he turned 16 last year.

We continued around the circle. One man said he spoke five languages: English, French, Urdu, Pashto and Punjabi. Another man said he wanted to visit New York someday. As I sat with them listening to their conversation in broken French and my own broken interjections, I thought about what I must look like to them. I hold a U.S. passport in my hand. I board a plane and land on a different continent in a matter of hours. I speak with my parents and brother and sister every week.

As I sit with them, I think about the places I can only imagine that they have been on their journeys to Marseille. A two-month trek through the Sahara followed by a boat crossing at night. A crowded bus or a stuffy train. How far have they walked? Or run?

I don’t know which of them were migrants and which were refugees, but I do know that they all came to France looking for a better life. I hope with every fiber in my body that they find it.

I wrote that when I was studying abroad in the south of France. Following that first evening, I went to visit the center each week or so to hang out and practice French with the guys there. Often, I would speak with a man named Tala and his friend Obama who arrived later in March or April; both sought asylum from Chad. The two of them, their stories and their generosity with me left a nagging thought this unfamiliar country in my mind.

A year later, as I searched for something worthwhile to do with my time after graduation, I found the most perfect placement in the SALT program with MCC. It was work in impact evaluation. It was French-speaking. And it was in – of all places – Chad.

Bingo.