All things new...

Everyone,

I was on my way. A strange mixture of emotions coursed through me...fear, excitement, anxiety, courage, hope, wonder, tentativeness, anticipation...I was back on the road to B�r�.

Arriving in N'Djam�na I had been struck by a profound sense of change in the air. Not just because of the time change, the culture change, the first world to third world change--no, things really were happening in Tchad's capital. We entered the airport and found everything under construction. The days were cool and rainy. Everything was green, transformed by the wet season. We'd left a desert, we found an oasis. Even the trash and smells seemed content to be temporarily hidden behind the new life bursting all around.

Sarah and I arrived with a colleague of mine from medical school, Troy Dickson, and his wife, Kim. I met Pastor Job and was thrilled with his warm, prodigal-son embrace. We registered Troy and Kim with the national security and went to the Grand Mosque to change money.

As we circled the one way street counterclockwise around the center of Islam in N'Djam�na we looked for our friend. Sure enough, he emerged from the crowd of white robed, white capped African Arabs reclining on mats in front of an empty store front.

"Al-salaam alekum."

"Wa alekum al-salaam. How are you my friend? Come, lets have some Cokes together."

We--Bichara, Job, and I--closed and locked the truck, then marched off behind our regular black market dealer. We removed our shoes, crossed the mats between the still reclining Muslims and into the empty cement room behind. We reclined on our mats as another robed Arab brought us our sodas. I carefully sipped mine and we made small talk about my trip and what was happening in N'Djam�na and Tchad in general. Apparently the roads are getting paved, the president was sick in France but is back now, and business is improving slowly.

After 15 minutes or so, I remark that I have some money to change. I ask what the going price is. I say I'd heard we were up to 530 francs per dollar. Job quickly pipes up with, "560 per dollar". Our friend immediately agrees to 530. Thus begins the bargaining. Finally, we seem at an impasse at 540. We aren't satisfied. I pull out the calculator and do some quick figures.

"Mon ami, you will make 400,000 francs (~$800) on this deal at 540 per dollar. You will admit that is a lot. If you give it to us at 550 you will still make 200,000 francs. Not bad for a few minutes work?"

He smiles broadly and nods while motioning with his hand to give him the dollars. We count it all out, I put the francs in a brown paper bag and stuff it to the bottom of my backpack. We rise to leave.

"Au revoir..." he waves.

"Agodt afe" I reply and we're off directly to the bank to deposit it. The black market has saved us approximately $2000 that would've been lost in the bank and we've established a valuable relationship.

After picking up twin medical students, Carol and Sara that night we are off to B�r� the next morning. Prior to departure, we arrange Job's plane ticket to Kenya and the finances for the start of his master's in International Development which will start the end of August.

In those brief days in N'Djaména I have heard many rumors that have plagued my mind leading to my anxious anticipation to get to Béré.

We enter Kélo by the southern roundabout instead of through the back way through the market. The landscape has been incredible: luscious green plains, full rivers, millet, rice, corn and other crops pushing to the sky which is deep blue with puffy white clouds. The only thing missing is herds of antelope, zebras, giraffes and elephants. We leave the pavement in K�lo plunging into red mud with numerous puddles spray painting the truck with a slimy coat. The roundabout takes us by the K�lo Hospital. The rumors are true: it is closed. Not a living thing can be seen.

The government health care workers are on strike. They haven't been paid in 5 months. The two hospitals closest to Béré--Kélo and Lai--are closed. Our staff is at half strength with only three nurses and one lab tech. We have gone back to Tchadian civil war era times with the three stalwart "pillars"--Anatole, Samedi, Lona--holding down the fort as they have over the years.

However, even with this grim news, a sense of excitement continues to build as we approach Béré. I recognize everything, yet it's all changed. I've never experienced this drastic change since I missed the slow transformation of the rains and have left the extreme of 130 degree weather and brown, dead landscapes for an instantaneous, 2 month change to lush tropical with 70-80 degree weather. I am excitedly filling in Troy, Kim, Sara and Carol on this and that memory associated with this and that. I am coming home.

We stop 8 km from Béré to see the hippos. We climb out and down to the edge of the river. Not 100 yards away are 7-8 large hippos showing off with grunts, gap-toothed yawns and impressive lunges out of the water. Slowly, some local passersby stop to see the strangers. We chat easily about the rains, the crops, the meanness of the hippo in general and about Marty, the fisherman bit by one of these same hippos over a year ago. Apparently, they all know him and are eager to report on his continued good health.

We hit the road, cross the river on the barge, and slosh through the muddy roads till we see the "Welcome to Béré" sign with the hospital's water tower visible over the mango trees in the distance. An indescribable feeling moves through my body, a combination of chills, warmth and the strange desire to cry and run and laugh at the same time.

As we pull in we see some of the staff in front of the church on benches. Friday evening worship is in full swing. They wave furiously and get up hurriedly to meet us in front of the house. André's grin stretches from ear to ear as he emerges from behind a large, 40 foot blue container sitting on our front lawn. He is shaking his head in joy as he embraces me with the biggest bear hug ever. In fact he can't stop laughing and hugging me. The others crowd around shaking hands, smiling, asking a million questions a minute. Bichara tries to stoically take charge of unloading our bags as there is general pandemonium. I glance over at the hospital and see two beautiful outdoor bathrooms for the patients and staff, a new walkway between Pediatrics and the rest of the hospital so we don't have to walk in the mud anymore.

André manages to get in a few words. "We weren't sure if we'd be able to finish the roofs or not...the container...what a challenge...God held back the rains as we struggled to unload all day...just after reloading it poured down...the strike...Lona, Anatole, Samedi, David...working hard...we've been blessed with the new government nurse, Josu�....you can't believe what a leader he is..." And on and on he goes.

I verify later, the roofs on the hospital ward, labor and delivery and operating room have all been repaired. My heart is filled with joy. Everyone has pulled through in my absence without a doctor, half-staffed and yet they have managed to not only not go backwards but have made a huge push forwards. Andr� sits me down two days later and explains all the important decisions, resolution of staff conflicts and other administrative things he's done and my heart swells with thankfulness.

Yes, God's hand is definitely in this place...I am relieved to see how little they really need me, yet how much they really want me...we're back, ready or not...

James