Ma Joie

At the last minute, I decide to go. I hardly got any sleep last night and woke up at 3am before falling back asleep until the alarm sounds at 4:30am.

"Sarah, I think I'm not going to N'Djamena. What am I really going to do there anyway? I'll just stay."

Sarah get's up and get's ready. I still don't hear Levi, the driver, so at 5 till 5am I get up and drive the car over to the hospital. I flip on the lights in the men's ward.

"Hey, you two, get up. We're leaving at five, remember? You're supposed to be ready!"

Our two friends, Mahamat and Lamglé, slowly raise up wiping their eyes. Their "garde-malades" start pulling down the mosquito nets and taking off the sheets carefully from under their right legs, twin-casted from groin to ankle.

I'd just performed the second surgery on each of them for non-union and mal-union femur fractures. They are relatives and both were in motorcycle accidents. I tried doing an open reduction and traction for each of them first but it didn't work. I just operated again a week ago and put in plates and screws with a cast. Now, I wanted to take them to N'Djamena for an xray since ours hasn't been working for years. Besides, they lived there and this way they can convalesce at home.

I'm now awake, and since Levi still isn't here I quickly pack, grab some cold Zachée pizza from the fridge and a week old bottle of vanilla protein drink for the road and we're off.

The headlights actually make driving on the rain scourged roads easier as the shadows light up where the holes are. Dawn breaks and a cool desert morning rushes in the open windows.

I startle a brightly colored bird with several shades of brilliant blue and a super-long tail. Unfortunately, it isn't fast enough and gets taken out in mid flight by the left side of the minibuses grill going out with a quick crunch.

A short time later, after missing countless sheep, goats, horses, cattle and camels I come across an Arab donkey caravan on a one way bridge and as I've almost come to a complete stop one of those dumb asses turns into the car with a piece of wood strapped to it's side and a crinkle of glass tells me my left headlight is no more.

Moving on, two little baby goats, one black and one white with black spots streak suddenly across the highway with just enough space in them for simultaneously sickening crunches under each front wheel. A quick glance in the rearview mirror shows the white one motionless but the black one struggling with it's head and front legs while it's back legs lie stuck to the asphalt.

Rounding the corner into N'Djamena over the bridge we strain to catch a glimpse of the hippos in the river but to no avail.

We drop off Mahamat and Lamglé at the National Reference Hospital in the midst of a chaotic ER filled with bodys in various stages of casting, wrapping, dressing and IV'ing.

Sarah and I bounce around N'Djamena in the minibus over near the airport towards the National Tuberculosis Program buildings. We enter our order for TB meds and are told to go wait in the pharmacy.

A small, lean, lighter skinned Chadian with a six-o'clock shadow beard and a bright smile waves us into his office and orders a young boy to bring "Chai" while he fills our order.

His French isn't that great and when we speak a few words of Arabic he lights up and speaks clearly and slowly so we can understand, peppering his talk with the occasional French or English word.

Apparently, he did all his studies here in Arabic, which is possible, but unusual, even getting his "bac" in Arabic (the French equivalent of a high school diploma). He then studied three years of nursing and three years of pharmacy in Syria.

He mentions that Christians and Muslims are very similar. We nod in agreement. He talks about not drinking alcohol and eating pork. I mention how we don't smoke as well.

I say the most important thing in life is to make it to paradise and he agrees with multiple "inshallahs" (God willing).

We start talking about the holy books and that there is the Tawrat (Torah), the Injil (the Gospel) and the Koran. They all are God's way of communicating with Man.

I mention that the true religion is the religion of Ibrahim (Abraham) he nods.

He asks if we are married. We nod and Sarah points out that Adoum (Adam) had only Hawa (Eve) and not Maryam, Khadidja, etc. as well. He laughs and says that in Islam it is permitted to have 4 wives, but only under special circumstances.

I agree saying that yes in countries hit hard by war, like Chad where women outnumber men, I can understand that, but it's an exception and I laughingly say that there is enough trouble with one woman, why add more? He stretches out his hand to be slapped and grasped in the Chadian way of sharing a joke and laughs along with me.

He agrees, which is why he also only has one wife, besides, life is difficult and who can afford more than one wife anyway?

He then asks if we have any children. We say not yet, and he replies that Allah will give us some, inshallah.

He then calls the boy back and tells him to pour us some more tea as we continue some small talk.

Sarah mentions that we have several Korans at home.

He asks if they're in English or what language.

We say Arabic, English and French. He nods approvingly.

We finish our tea, he helps us haul out the TB meds to our van and we shake hands promising to see each other another day, inshallah.

I somehow have no doubt that I will see him again, whether on earth or not, certainly in paradise.

Sarah and I are off. We run some other errands before being called back to pick up Mahamat and Lamglé. We wander through several dirt road detours through the "suburbs" of N'Djamena (mud brick houses slightly more spread apart than in the "Grande ville") until we come to a mud plastered three roomed house with a ramshackle covered dirt "porch" which Mahamat claims as his. He apologizes saying a huge wind knocked half his wall down last May.

After helping them out onto crutches and onto a mat in the shade we are invited to sit with them. A metal bowl of water is placed before us. I try to ignore the floating things as I bring it slowly to my parched lips. A young boy is sent off for some Cokes and Grapefruit "Top". We then have some rice "boule" with some green leaf and dried fish sauce. I must be starving because as I dig into the sticky rice paste and dip it into the spicy sauce, I actually can't eat it fast enough. It just seems to hit the spot.

We then head off back to the "big city" and stop at Ma Joie's house. Ma Joie is the 8 year old girl, also a relative of Mahamat and Lamglé who also had a right femur fracture that also wasn't healed properly that we also opened and reduced and put in traction. The only difference is that she healed after two months and has been home for over a month already.

We enter a low, dank mud entrance down an open alley past some couches in various stages of fabrication until we turn into an open courtyard. There our shy, cute little friend limps towards us on one crutch. Apparently, she doesn't need it but her grandfather insisted she use it in front of us in case we expected it. We greet all 14 members of the extended family and Ma Joie makes my day by lighting up with a crooked tooth grin when I lay out my hand palm up so she can give me "five". She slaps it hard and soon all the other kids are lining up! Right before we leave, she runs off and brings us each a black plastic bag with some brightly colored African cloth as a present.

She is not only Ma Joie but Notre Joie (our joy)...