Ecodome Chad

I stand in the darkness of the hut and tears stream down my sunburned, dirt caked cheeks. My body has reached it's limits and now my spirit has too. I've been living and working in an African village in Eastern Chad for a week now. My bed has been the packed earth of the village chief's courtyard. My food has been left over rice sweetened with a little sugar and peanut oil interspersed with a few cucumbers and the occasional boiled goat organs. My shirt has been the same one I've worn every day out on the construction site and it's ripeness cannot be described, only experienced.

I came out packed like a sardine with 5 other large Americans and a Chadian chauffeur named Issa Mahamat (Jesus Mohammed) over 900km of mostly bad subsaharan roads on a trip that lasted over 14 hours. That night I call Mahamat Saleh Abakar, our host and patron, to inform him of our safe arrival at his house in Abeche. He is his usual jovial self. I have no indication of the tragic news that will awaken me next morning before 6am. Arlo leans into my mosquito net and with a quavering voice gives me the bad news.

"James, Mahamat Saleh is dead."




"What?" I'm still groggy and wonder if I'm in dream land until the sobs and wails coming from around the courtyard jolt me awake. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, we just got a call from N'Djamena. He went to open the mosque at 4am and then, after praying went back to bed. He never woke up. They found him cold."

I get up and move out onto the sand of the courtyard towards the short brick wall separating it from the walkway to other parts of the compound. Issa Mahamat comes up to me with tears in his eyes.

"Mahamat Saleh mot," he bemoans in Arabic as he shakes his head in disbelief.

I'm assured later by the family that this won't undermine the project but that the whole family is behind us in the creation of this health center. We pick up the "Chef de Terre" (Land Chief) of the area who accompanies us out to the village where we are introduced to the chief and his second in command. We set up camp and go out to the job site where Arlo has already dug the foundations for the Ecodome we will hopefully build in the next week.



Monday I am occupied with visiting local authorities back in Abeche while the team gets working. Arlo has identified three locals, Naim, Aimé and Richard who we will soon realize are indispensable for the success of this project. They are not only amazingly hard workers but are of impeccable character. Naim especially always has a smile on his face as he motivates the local workers to move ever faster and stronger. Then as we rest in the unbearable midday heat he prepares our simple fare along with the obligatory tea. Later he helps translate, count out and distribute pills and make it possible for me to see hundreds of patients at night after our evening work session. He is tireless, humble and dedicated to his faith. None of all these responsabilities can make him miss even one of his five daily prayers. He studied Arabic in the university and can read and write it fluently as well us understand completely the Qur'an. Like any true student of the Qur'an he was led to study the other ancient scriptures as well and is familiar with the Injil and the teachings of Jesus. While at the university, he organized a dramatic troupe to do street theater to promote social awareness, health principles and to point out corruption at the hospital and elsewhere. He is one of those men in whom one instantly recognizes veiled greatness.



Aimé and Richard are quieter and more subdued yet no less hard working and dedicated in all areas of life.

Wednesday I am on the wall filling a superadobe bag and I suddenly feel as if have no strength. I'd had diarrhea once that morning but no other symptoms. Now my whole body is aching and my skin is on fire. I am drained. I manage to finish the row and then wobble down the hill to the cattle watering hole where I jump in after stripping off down to my underwear. I find temporary relief in the coolness of the shallow muddy pond. I go back to the compound and am flat out on my back for the next two days. I start treatment with antibiotics and Flagyl for amebas. I've used up all my malaria medication in treating sick kids in the village. I send someone Thursday into Abeche to buy me some and after one treatment that evening am feeling better the next day.

I have seen such suffering. No clean water, hardly any food, sick kids with pus filled eyes everywhere. Malaria, diarrhea, skin wounds, blind adults from cataracts. My simple supply of pills is soon gone and the needs are overwhelming. I get more in Abeche on Friday and that night see 50 of the 130 signed up to see me. I have no where to consult but on a mat, often with a flashlight to guide me and Naim and the village chief at my side as assistants. Saturday afternoon, I try to see the almost 100 that remain. As it gets dark I go to get my headlamp and it's gone. I flip out. Exhaustion has taken it's toll. I pack up what little meds remain and close shop. Many have come from miles away to see me. My missing head lamp just gives me an excuse to escape from the overwhelming needs that have pushed my body to it's limits.




That morning, we'd decided to hike to and climb a nearby mountain. We almost died of heat exhaustion. One of our group, Brian, had to turn back early. On the way back on a simple path through the millet fields we hear a voice thundering from under a nearby tree.

"Don't come over here unless you want to get naked and wait till the moon comes out." I glance over and see a hairy, naked body leaning with one arm casually against the trunk. Fortunately, the intervening millet stalks blur the details. In our own delirious state, none of us thinks it abnormal as we are just trying to survive ourselves. We wave goodbye and continue back to the village. It's only after downing a few liters of water and some porridge that I start to panic. We sort of realized that it wasn't good so we'd sent out Issa Mahamat and Naim along with Brian's son, Bradon in the truck to try and find him.

The locals are chastising us for our carelessness. The truck comes back with out Brian. Naim and Issa are covered from head to foot in sand. The car got stuck in the sand and had to be dug out. We head out again. I hope I can find that tree again and that Brian hasn't moved. We finally find the small path and sure enough there's Brian still under the tree. He was smart enough to recognize his limits and stayed out of the sun and heat thus saving his life.



So, Saturday night, I'm exhausted from working all week, having amebas and malaria, almost dying of heat stroke, not eating enough and seeing too much suffering. So, I find myself standing in the dark crying, bemoaning my weakness yet feeling at the end of my resources. These people have lived like this their whole lives and I am done after a week. And now I've turned away dozens of suffering people because I just can't go on.

"Father God, forgive me my weakness, only you can make me strong."